It seemed to Toby at this time that a veil hung about him which, dim
and unreal in itself, served to make all things dim and unreal. He
did not know whether he was asleep or awake, so strange was life, so
vivid were his dreams. Mummie, Uncle John, the baby, Toby himself
came with a flicker of the veil and disappeared vaguely without
cause. It would happen that Toby would be speaking to Uncle John, and
suddenly he would find himself looking into the large eyes of the
baby, turned stupidly towards the ceiling, and again the baby would
be Toby himself, a hot, dry little body without legs or arms, that
swayed suspended as if by magic a foot above the bed. Then there was the vision of two small feet that moved a long way
off, and Toby would watch them curiously as kittens do their tails,
without knowing the cause of their motion. It was all very wonderful
and very strange, and day by day the veil grew thicker; there was no
need to wake when the sleeptime was so pleasant; there were no dark
people to kick you in that dreamy place. And yet Toby woke--woke to a life and in a place which he had never
known before. He found himself on a heap of rags in a large cellar which depended
for its light on a grating let into the pavement of the street
above. On the stone floor of the area and swinging from the grating
were a few sickly, grimy plants in pots. There must have been, a
fine sunset up above, for a faint red glow came through the bars and
touched the leaves of the plants. There was a lighted candle standing in a bottle on the table, and the
cellar seemed full of people. At the table itself two men and a woman
were drinking, though they were already drunk, and beyond in a corner
Toby could see the head and shoulders of a tall old man. Beside him
there crouched a woman with a faded, pretty face, and between Toby
and the rest of the room there stood a box in which lay a baby with
large, wakeful eyes. Toby's body tingled with excitement, for this was a new thing; he had
never seen it before, he had never seen anything before. The voice of the woman at the table rose and fell steadily without a
pause; she was abusing the other woman, and the two drunken men were
laughing at her and shouting her on; Toby thought the other woman
lacked spirit because she stayed crouching on the floor and said
nothing. At last the woman stopped her abuse, and one of the men turned and
shouted an order to the woman on the floor. She stood up and came
towards him, hesitating; this annoyed the man and he swore at her
brutally; when she came near enough he knocked her down with his
fist, and all the three burst out laughing. Toby was so excited that he knelt up in his corner and clapped his
hands, but the others did not notice because the old man was up and
swaying wildly over the woman. He seemed to be threatening the man
who had struck her, and that one was evidently afraid of him, for he
rose unsteadily and lifted the chair on which he had been sitting
above his head to use as a weapon. The old man raised his fist and the chair fell heavily on to his
wrinkled forehead and he dropped to the ground. The woman at the table cried out, "The pension!" in her shrill voice,
and then they were all quiet, looking. Then it seemed to Toby that through the forest there came flying,
with a harsh sweet voice and a tumult of wings, a bird of all
colours, ugly and beautiful, and he knew, though later there might be
people to tell him otherwise, that that was the end of everything. Children Of The Moon

The boy stood at the place where the park trees stopped and the
smooth lawns slid away gently to the great house. He was dressed only
in a pair of ragged knickerbockers and a gaping buttonless shirt, so
that his legs and neck and chest shone silver bare in the moonlight. By day he had a mass of rough golden hair, but now it seemed to brood
above his head like a black cloud that made his face deathly white by
comparison. On his arms there lay a great heap of gleaming dew-wet
roses and lilies, spoil of the park flower-beds. Their cool petals
touched his cheek, and filled his nostrils with aching scent. He felt
his arms smarting here and there, where the thorns of the roses had
torn them in the dark, but these delicate caresses of pain only
served to deepen to him the wonder of the night that wrapped him
about like a cloak. Behind him there dreamed the black woods, and
over his head multitudinous stars quivered and balanced in space; but
these things were nothing to him, for far across the lawn that was
spread knee-deep, with a web of mist there gleamed for his eager eyes
the splendour of a fairy palace. Red and orange and gold, the lights
of the fairy revels shone from a hundred windows and filled him with
wonder that he should see with wakeful eyes the jewels that he had
desired so long in sleep. He could only gaze and gaze until his
straining eyes filled with tears, and set the enchanted lights
dancing in the dark. On his ears, that heard no more the crying of
the night-birds and the quick stir of the rabbits in the brake, there
fell the strains of far music. The flowers in his arms seemed to sway
to it, and his heart beat to the deep pulse of the night. So enraptured were his senses that he did not notice the coming of
the girl, and she was able to examine him closely before she called
to him softly through the moonlight. "Boy! Boy!" At the sound of her voice he swung round and looked at her with
startled eyes. He saw her excited little face and her white dress. "Are you a fairy?" he asked hoarsely, for the night-mist was in his
voice. "No," she said, "I'm a little girl. You're a wood-boy, I suppose?" He stayed silent, regarding her with a puzzled face. Who was this
little white creature with the tender voice that had slipped so
suddenly out of the night? "As a matter of fact," the girl continued, "I've come out to have a
look at the fairies. There's a ring down in the wood. You can come
with me if you like, wood-boy." He nodded his head silently, for he was afraid to speak to her, and
set off through the wood by her side, still clasping the flowers to
his breast. "What were you looking at when I found you?" she asked. "The palace--the fairy palace," the boy muttered. "The palace?" the girl repeated. "Why, that's not a palace; that's
where I live." The boy looked at her with new awe; if she were a fairy---- But the
girl had noticed that his feet made no sound beside her shoes. "Don't the thorns prick your feet, wood-boy?" she asked; but the boy
said nothing, and they were both silent for a while, the girl looking
about her keenly as she walked, and the boy watching her face. Presently they came to a wide pool where a little tinkling fountain
threw bubbles to the hidden fish. "Can you swim?" she said to the boy. He shook his head. "It's a pity," said the girl; "we might have had a bathe. It would be
rather fun in the dark, but it's pretty deep there. We'd better get
on to the fairy ring."