But when they
were turning back towards the orchard house she suddenly began to laugh,
glancing at the old gentleman with eyes full of merriment.
"It is funny," she said, "I don't even know your name! I would like to
call you Cheiron--but you have a real name, of course."
"It is Arnold Carlyon, and I come from Cornwall," the old gentleman
said, "but you are welcome to call me Cheiron, if you like."
Halcyone thanked him prettily.
"I wish you had his body--don't you? How we could gallop about, could we
not? But I can imagine you have, easily. I always can see things I
imagine, and sometimes they become realities then."
"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Cheiron. "What would my four legs and my
hoofs do in the little orchard house, and how should I sit in my
armchair?"
Halcyone pealed with merry laughter; her laughs came so rarely and were
like golden bells. The comic side of the picture enchanted her.
"Of course it would only do if we lived in a cave, as the real Cheiron
did," she admitted. "I was silly, was not I?"
"Yes," said Mr. Carlyon, "but I don't think I mind your being so--it is
nice to laugh.
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