No one was stirring about the temple. The door was closed. But at a little distance, on a perfectly kept lawn, there were numerous square blocks of marble, and on these certain extraordinary-appearing persons were seated.

We may as well know at once that the temple was the Temple of Truth; and the persons who sat on the blocks of marble, or pedestals, were known as Truth's devotees. The names of the devotees were graved on the pedestals, and a few of those which Everychild could see were Mr.

Benevolent Inst.i.tution, Dr. Orthodox Doctrine, Mrs. Just.i.tia, Mr.

Inflexible Creed, Mr. Professional Politician and Mr. Policeman. And of course there were many others.

They were all dressed presentably enough, save that Mrs. Just.i.tia's robes were clearly of very cheap material, and the bandage about her eyes had slipped down so that one eye could be seen peeping out sharply; while Mr. Policeman had a really unsightly red nose, which made his blue uniform seem rather absurd.

The devotees of Truth sat staring straight before them. They seemed sleepy, and they continually nodded their heads like mandarins. Mr.

Policeman was the only member of the group who did not nod continually.

He was fast asleep! He stirred occasionally when a fly circled about his nose. On these occasions he waved his hand smartly before his face.

The oddest-appearing member of the group was, perhaps, Mr. Professional Politician. He wore a tiny mask with a smile like a cherub's painted on it. He kept touching the mask, as though he feared it might fall off; and when he did so it could be seen that he had an enormous, coa.r.s.e hand which did not match the false face at all.

Just the same, the temple was very beautiful; and Everychild and the giant stood gazing at it with reverence.

The giant was the first to speak. "This is the place," he said. "And beyond that door, inside the temple, is where my mother is hidden."

Everychild nodded. Presently he thought to ask: "And all those--those . . ." He really could not think how to refer to those persons on the pedestals.

But the giant understood. "We needn't pay any attention to them just now," he said. "They'll neither see nor hear us as long as we just stand here. It's only when we try to get into the temple that they become really terrible."

"And what do they do then?" asked Everychild.

"Various dreadful things. Mr. Benevolent Inst.i.tution would lock us up where we'd see the sky only now and then and where we'd have to wear uniforms, and all act alike and eat alike, and go to sleep and wake up together."

Everychild shuddered and moved closer to his companion. "Don't speak so loud, please," he said. "And what about the others?"

"Mr. Orthodox Doctrine is one of those fellows . . . well, he used to burn you, you know; but now he freezes you."

"And the others?"

"It's not easy to explain. The lady--Mrs. Just.i.tia--has a habit . . .

I hate to say it, but she's forever asking you how much money you've got, and whether you've got any influential friends (if you could only know what she means by that!)--questions of that sort, which a nice person wouldn't ask you."

"It's all very strange," whispered Everychild. "And the one with the red nose?" he asked finally.

"Mr. Policeman. He isn't really as bad as the rest of them. All he does is. .h.i.t you over the head with a club and turn you over to the lady--to her with the bandage that's always slipping off."

There was a silence, and then Everychild remarked: "Still, it's not plain why they're all sitting around here where your--your mother . . ."

"It's just a pose," said the giant. "What I can't understand is why my mother doesn't denounce them all. They do no end of harm. And it was they who drove me away from her long ago. They said I was a dangerous character, and they all conspired to ruin me. They gave me a bad name, so that everybody was willing to give me a kick in pa.s.sing--all save a few gentle hermits and shepherds and persons like that. And now--now I truly fear they've got my mother locked up in her temple, so that she's helpless. That's what we've got to do: we've got to get her out. Even if we have to break down the doors. Though of course they'll all try to destroy us if they know what we're about."

For the moment Everychild forgot the sword he carried--which the Masked Lady had given him--and forgot also what the Masked Lady had said to him about a door which would not open save in the presence of that sword. He said nervously, "Hadn't we better go away and come back some other time?"

But his companion replied resolutely, "I shall not go away. I shall wait until they are all asleep--or perhaps until she opens the door and appears."

One more question entered Everychild's mind. "But if they all hate you so," he said, "why do they all sit there now as if they did not care?"

"I doubt if they recognize me," explained the giant. "It's been so long since they saw me. They probably think we're mere idle travelers.

You know there are many such; and few of them really try to enter the temple."

And so they stood and waited, and the devotees continued to nod like mandarins. It seemed indeed that they would never go to sleep. And it came to pa.s.s at last that the giant could no longer restrain himself.

To be within reach of his lost mother, and not to be able to speak to her--it was too much!

He began to advance silently, leaving Everychild where he stood. He proceeded, step by step, in the direction of the temple. And it began to seem that he might reach the temple door without being seen.

Indeed, he actually did so. He laid his hand on the door of the temple. The door would not open! But instead, something quite dreadful happened.

In the back row of devotees sat one whom the giant had not yet seen.

It was Mr. Literal, seated on a pedestal marked with his name.

This person started up with a scream of fury. He had recognized the giant.

"Up!" he cried to his fellow-devotees. "The evil son has returned.

Up, all of you, and defend the temple!"

The others were all thoroughly aroused. They turned their eyes toward the temple and perceived the giant standing at the very door!

They sprang toward him with great fury. They quickly surrounded him.

It seemed that he must really perish before their wrath. And then--then what happened?

Everychild could not stand idle and see his friend perish. He bethought him of the sword the Masked Lady had given him. He drew the sword quickly and with a loud cry he dashed toward the temple steps.

He gained the side of the giant; and then--what is this? _The devotees all turned to cowering wretches_! They put forth their elbows to ward off imaginary blows. They slunk back like base cowards.

They had seen the sword in Everychild's hand, and they had recognized it!

Moreover, before the gleam of that sword the temple door swung open.

The giant dashed into the temple to greet his mother. He became for an instant invisible. The devotees were now slinking back to a safe distance. Everychild, without ever lowering his sword, smote them all with his glance of scorn.

And then the giant reappeared. But oh, what a change had taken place in him! He held his hands aloft in an agony of despair. He staggered down the temple steps, followed by the wondering Everychild.

"What is it?" asked Everychild in distress. "What ails you?"

They were drawing away from the temple now, and the devotees were thronging back to the open door. They surrounded it, closing it with frenzied hands.

The giant drew apart, giving no explanation to Everychild just at first. But standing alone and heart-broken he lifted his hands high.

"_She is gone!_" he cried in a hoa.r.s.e, agonized whisper.

The devotees lifted their voices in a triumphant chorus--

"She is within!"

But the giant, his hands hanging limp now, and his eyes staring into vacancy, repeated in the same hoa.r.s.e voice:

"She is gone!"