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This strange anaemic order of beings was further removed from us； in fact；
than the kindly beasts who shared our natural existence in the sun。 The
estrangement was fortified by an abiding sense of injustice； arising from
the refusal of the Olympians ever to defend； retract； or admit themselves in
the wrong； or to accept similar concessions on our part。 For instance；
whenI flung the cat out of an upper window （though I did it from no ill…
feeling； and it didn't hurt the cat）； I was ready； after a moment's reflection；
to own I was wrong； as a gentleman should。 But was the matter allowed
to end there？ I trow not。 Again； when Harold was locked up in his
room all day； for assault and battery upon a neighbour's pig；an action he
would have scorned； being indeed on the friendliest terms with the porker
in question；there was no handsome expression of regret on the discovery
of the real culprit。 What Harold had felt was not so much the
imprisonment；indeed he had very soon escaped by the window； with
assistance from his allies； and had only gone back in time for his release；
as the Olympian habit。 A word would have set all right； but of course
that word was never spoken。
Well！ The Olympians are all past and gone。 Somehow the sun does
not seem to shine so brightly as it used； the trackless meadows of old time
have shrunk and dwindled away to a few poor acres。 A saddening doubt；
a dull suspicion； creeps over me。 Et in Arcadia ego；I certainly did once
inhabit Arcady。 Can it be I too have become an Olympian？
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The Golden Age
A HOLIDAY。
The masterful wind was up and out； shouting and chasing； the lord of
the morning。 Poplars swayed and tossed with a roaring swish； dead
leaves sprang aloft； and whirled into space； and all the clear…swept heaven
seemed to thrill with sound like a great harp。
It was one of the first awakenings of the year。 The earth stretched
herself； smiling in her sleep； and everything leapt and pulsed to the stir of
the giant's movement。 With us it was a whole holiday； the occasion a
birthdayit matters not whose。 Some one of us had had presents； and
pretty conventional speeches； and had glowed with that sense of heroism
which is no less sweet that nothing has been done to deserve it。 But the
holiday was for all； the rapture of awakening Nature for all； the various
outdoor joys of puddles and sun and hedge…breaking for all。 Colt…like I
ran through the meadows； frisking happy heels in the face of Nature
laughing responsive。 Above； the sky was bluest of the blue； wide pools
left by the winter's floods flashed the colour back； true and brilliant； and
the soft air thrilled with the germinating touch that seemed to kindle
something in my own small person as well as in the rash primrose already
lurking in sheltered haunts。 Out into the brimming sun… bathed world I
sped； free of lessons； free of discipline and correction； for one day at least。
My legs ran of themselves； and though I heard my name called faint and
shrill behind； there was no stopping for me。 It was only Harold； I
concluded； and his legs； though shorter than mine； were good for a longer
spurt than this。 Then I heard it called again； but this time more faintly；
with a pathetic break in the middle； and I pulled up short； recognising
Charlotte's plaintive note。
She panted up anon； and dropped on the turf beside me。 Neither had
any desire for talk； the glow and the glory of existing on this perfect
morning were satisfaction full and sufficient。
〃Where's Harold；〃 I asked presently。
〃Oh； he's just playin' muffin…man； as usual；〃 said Charlotte with
petulance。 〃Fancy wanting to be a muffin…man on a whole holiday！〃
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The Golden Age
It was a strange craze； certainly； but Harold； who invented his own
games and played them without assistance； always stuck staunchly to a
new fad； till he had worn it quite out。 Just at present he was a muffin…
man； and day and night he went through passages and up and down
staircases； ringing a noiseless bell and offering phantom muffins to
invisible wayfarers。 It sounds a poor sort of sport； and yetto pass along
busy streets of your own building； for ever ringing an imaginary bell and
offering airy muffins of your own make to a bustling thronging crowd of
your own creationthere were points about the game； it cannot be denied；
though it seemed scarce in harmony with this radiant wind…swept
morning！
〃And Edward； where is he？〃 I questioned again。
〃He's coming along by the road；〃 said Charlotte。 〃He'll be crouching
in the ditch when we get there； and he's going to be a grizzly bear and
spring out on us； only you mustn't say I told you； 'cos it's to be a surprise。〃
〃All right；〃 I said magnanimously。 〃Come on and let's be surprised。〃
But I could not help feeling that on this day of days even a grizzly felt
misplaced and common。
Sure enough an undeniable bear sprang out on us as we dropped into
the road； then ensued shrieks； growlings； revolver…shots； and unrecorded
heroisms； till Edward condescended at last to roll over and die； bulking
large and grim； an unmitigated grizzly。 It was an understood thing； that
whoever took upon himself to be a bear must eventually die； sooner or
later； even if he were the eldest born； else； life would have been all strife
and carnage； and the Age of Acorns have displaced our hard…won
civilisation。 This little affair concluded with satisfaction to all parties
concerned； we rambled along the road； picking up the defaulting Harold
by the way； muffinless now and in his right and social mind。
〃What would you do？〃 asked Charlotte presently；the book of the
moment always dominating her thoughts until it was sucked dry and cast
aside；〃what would you do if you saw two lions in the road； one on each
side； an