Looking downward over the pavement's edge
he saw, instead of accustomed kitchen-windows, white clouds and a
wide, blue sky. I led him to the old back door of the shop, looking
pale and in need of air, and pushed him lightly and he went limply
through, for I thought the air was better for him on the side of the
street that he knew. As soon as the door was shut on that astonished
man I turned to the right and went along the street till I saw the
gardens and the cottages, and a little red patch moving in a garden,
which I knew to be the old witch wearing her shawl.
"Come for a change of illusion again?" she said.
"I have come from London," I said. "And I want to see Singanee. I
want to go to his ivory palace over the elfin mountains where the
amethyst precipice is."
"Nothing like changing your illusions," she said, "or you grow tired.
London's a fine place but one wants to see the elfin mountains
sometimes."
"Then you know London?" I said.
"Of course I do," she said. "I can dream as well as you. You are not
the only person that can imagine London." Men were toiling dreadfully
in her garden; it was in the heat of the day and they were digging
with spades; she suddenly turned from me to beat one of them over the
back with a long black stick that she carried. "Even my poets go to
London sometimes," she said to me.
"Why did you beat that man?" I said.
"To make him work," she answered.
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