"Not in this term o' school," he added impressively.
All were silent a little time.
"Where have you been?" Trove inquired presently.
"Home," said the old man.
There was a puzzled look on Trove's face.
"Home?" he repeated with a voice of inquiry.
"I have, sor," the clock tinker went on. "This poor shelter is not
me home--it's only for a night now an' then. I've a grand house
an' many servants an' a garden, sor, where there be flowers--lovely
flowers--an' sunlight an' noble music. Believe me, boy, 'tis
enough to make one think o' heaven."
"I did not know of it," said Trove.
"Know ye not there is a country in easy reach of us, with fair
fields an' proud cities an' many people an' all delights, boy, all
delights? There I hope thou shalt found a city thyself an' build
it well so nothing shall overthrow it--fire, nor flood, nor the
slow siege o' years."
"Where?" Trove inquired eagerly.
"In the Blessed Isles, boy, in the Blessed Isles. Imagine the
infinite sea o' time that is behind us. Stand high an' look back
over its dead level. King an' empire an' all their striving
multitudes are sunk in the mighty deep. But thou shalt see rising
out of it the Blessed Isles of imagination.
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