“Oh, Mummy is so kind!” said the little ones.
And they asked him questions in their turn: what was he going to do on earth? What was he bringing?
“I am bringing three illnesses,” said the little brother. “Scarlatina, whooping-cough and measles. …”
“Oh, that’s all, is it?” cried Tyltyl.
He shook his head, with evident disappointment, while the other continued:
“After that, I shall leave you!”
“It will hardly be worth while coming!” said Tyltyl, feeling rather vexed.
“We can’t pick and choose!” said the little brother, pettishly.
They would perhaps have quarrelled, without waiting till they were on earth, if they had not suddenly been parted by a swarm of Blue Children who were hurrying to meet somebody. At the same time, there was a great noise, as if thousands of invisible doors were being opened at the end of the galleries.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tyltyl.
“It’s Time,” said one of the Blue Children. “He’s going to open the doors.”
And the excitement increased on every side. The Children left their machines and their labours; those who were asleep woke up; and every eye was eagerly and anxiously turned to the great opal doors at the back, while every mouth repeated the same name. The word, “Time! Time!” was heard all around; and the great mysterious noise kept on. Tyltyl was dying to know what it meant. At last, he caught a little Child by the skirt of his dress and asked him.
“Let me be,” said the Child, very uneasily. “I’m in a hurry: it may be my turn today. … It is the Dawn rising. This is the hour when the Children who are to be born today go down to earth. … You shall see. … Time is drawing the bolts. …”
“Who is Time?” asked Tyltyl.
“An old man who comes to call those who are going,” said another Child. “He is not so bad; but he won’t listen or hear. Beg as they may, if it’s not their turn, he pushes back all those who try to go. … Let me be! It may be my turn now!”
Light now hastened towards our little friends in a great state of alarm:
“I was looking for you,” she said. “Come quick: it will never do for Time to discover you.”
As she spoke these words, she threw her gold cloak around the Children and dragged them to a corner of the hall, where they could see everything, without being seen.
Tyltyl was very glad to be so well protected. He now knew that he who was about to appear possessed so great and tremendous a power that no human strength was capable of resisting him. He was at the same time a deity and an ogre; he bestowed life and he devoured it; he sped through the world so fast that you had no time to see him; he ate and ate, without stopping; he took whatever he touched. In Tyltyl’s family, he had already taken Grandad and Granny, the little brothers, the little sisters and the old blackbird! He did not mind what he took: joys and sorrows, winters and summers, all was fish that came to his net! …
Knowing this, our friend was astonished to see everybody in the Kingdom of the Future running so fast to meet him:
“I suppose he doesn’t eat anything here,” he thought.
There he was! The great doors turned slowly on their hinges. There was a distant music: it was the sounds of the earth. A red and green light penetrated into the hall; and Time appeared on the threshold. He was a tall and very thin old man, so old that his wrinkled face was all grey, like dust. His white beard came down to his knees. In one hand, he carried an enormous scythe; in the other, an hourglass. Behind him, some way out, on a sea the colour of the Dawn, was a magnificent gold galley, with white sails.
“Are they ready whose hour has struck?” asked Time. At the sound of that voice, solemn and deep as a bronze gong, thousands of bright children’s voices, like little silver bells, answered:
“Here we are! … Here we are! … Here we are! …”
And, in a moment, the Blue Children were crowding round the tall old man, who pushed them all back and, in a gruff voice, said:
“One at a time! … Once again, there are many more of you than are wanted! … You can’t deceive me!”
Brandishing his scythe in one hand and holding out his cloak with the other, he barred the way to the rash Children who tried to slip by him. Not one of them escaped the horrid old man’s watchful eye:
“It’s not your turn!” he said to one. “You’re to be born tomorrow! … Nor yours either, you’ve got ten years to wait. … A thirteenth shepherd? … There are only twelve wanted; there is no need for more. … More doctors? … There are too many already; they are grumbling about it on earth. … And where are the engineers? … They want an honest man; only one, as a wonderful being.”
Thereupon, a poor Child, who had hung back, until then, came forward timidly, sucking his thumb. He looked pale and sad and walked with tottering footsteps; he was so wretched that even Time felt a moment’s pity:
“It’s you!” he exclaimed. “You seem a very poor specimen!”
And, lifting his eyes to the sky, with a look of discouragement, he added:
“You won’t live long!”
And the movement went on. Each Child, when denied, returned to his employment with a downcast air. When one of them was accepted, the others looked at him with envy. Now and then, something happened, as when the hero who was to fight against injustice refused to go. He clung to his playfellows, who called out to Time:
“He doesn’t want to, Sir!”
“No, I don’t want to go,” cried the little fellow, with all his might. “I would rather not be born.”
“And quite right too!” thought Tyltyl, who was full of common-sense and who knew what things are like on earth.
For people always get beatings which they have not deserved; and, when they
