himself in a sort of hall under the water, with a pale strange light in it.  And then he turned from the horrible water-wolf and raised his sword and struck her on the head; but his blow did her no harm.  No sword made by mortal men could harm Grendel or his mother; and as he struck her Beowulf stumbled and fell.  Then the water-wolf rushed forward and sat upon him as he lay there, and raised aloft her own sharp dagger to drive it into his breast; but Beowulf shook her off, and sprang up, and there, on the wall, he saw hanging a strange old sword that had been made in the old times, long, long ago, when the world was full of giants.  So he threw his own sword aside and took down the old sword, and once more he smote the water-wolf.  And this time his sword did him good service, and Grendel’s fierce mother sank down dead upon the ground.

“Then Beowulf looked round him, and he saw lying in a corner the body of Grendel himself.  He cut off the monster’s head, and lo and behold! when he had cut it off the blade of the old sword melted away, and there was nothing left in his hands but the hilt, with strange letters on it, telling how it was made in old days by the giants for a great king.  So with that, and Hrothgar’s sword and Grendel’s head, Beowulf rose up again through the bog, and just as his brave men had begun to think they should never see their dear lord more he came swimming to land, bearing the great head with him.

“Then Hrothgar and all his people rejoiced greatly, for they knew that the land would never more be troubled by these hateful monsters, but that the ploughers might plough, and the shepherds might lead their sheep, and brave men might sleep at night, without fear any more of Grendel and his mother.”

“Oh, father!” said Milly, breathlessly, when he stopped.  “Is that all?”

But Olly sat quite still, without speaking, gazing at his father with wide open brown eyes, and a face as grave and terrified as if Grendel were actually beside him.

“That’s all for this time,” said Mr. Norton.  “Why, Olly, where are your little wits gone to?  Did it frighten you, old man?”

“Oh!” said Olly, drawing a long breath.  “I did think he would never have comed up out of that bog!”

“It was splendid,” said Milly.  “But, father, I don’t understand about that pool.  Why didn’t Beowulf get drowned when he went down under the water?”

“The story doesn’t tell us anything about that,” said Mr. Norton.  “But heroes in those days, Milly, must have had something magical about them so that they were able to do things that men and women can’t do now.  Do you know, children, that this story that you have been listening to is more than a thousand years old?  Can you fancy that?”

“No,” said Milly, shaking her head.  “I can’t fancy it a bit, father.  It’s too long.  It makes me puzzled to think of so many years.”

“Years and years and years and years!” said Olly.  “When father’s grandfather was a little boy.”