“Shan’t I?  How nice,” exclaimed Austin, brightly.  “I certainly can’t fancy myself old a bit.  How funny it would be if one always preserved one’s youthful shape and features, while one’s skin got all cracked and rough and wrinkled like that old youth over there!  The effect would be rather ghastly.  But I don’t want to grow old in any sense.  I should like to remain a boy all my life.  I suppose that in the other world people may live a thousand years and always remain eighteen.  I’m nearly eighteen myself.”

St Aubyn could not help casting a glance of keen interest at the boy as he said this.  A presentiment shot through him that that might actually be the destiny of the pure-souled, enthusiastic young creature who had just uttered the suggestive words.  Austin’s long, pale face, slender form, and bright, far-away expression carried with them the idea that perhaps he might not stay very long where he was.  A sudden pang made itself felt as the possibility occurred to him, and he rapidly changed the subject.

“I don’t think I’d let my thoughts run too much on mystical questions if I were you, Austin,” he said.  “I mean in connection with these curious experiences you’ve been having.  You have enough joy in life, joy from the world around you, to dispense with speculations about the unseen.  All that sort of thing is premature, and if it takes too great a hold upon you its tendency will be to make you morbid.”

“It hasn’t done so yet,” replied Austin.  “As far as I can judge of the other world, it seems quite as joyous and lively as this one, and in reality I expect it’s a good deal more so.  I don’t hanker after experiences, as you call them, but hitherto whenever they’ve come they’ve always been helpful and agreeable—­never terrifying or ghastly in the very least.  And I don’t lay myself out for them, you know.  I just feel that there is something near me that I can’t see, and that it’s pleasant and friendly.  The thought is a happy one, and makes me enjoy the world I live in all the more.”

“Well, then, let us enjoy it together, and talk about orchids and tulips, and things we can see and handle,” said St Aubyn, cheerfully.  “How’s Aunt Charlotte, for instance?  Has she quite forgiven you for having saved her life?”

“Oh, quite, I think,” replied Austin, his eyes twinkling.  “I believe she’s almost grateful, for when she came back from town she presented me with a gold pencil-case.  She doesn’t often do that sort of thing, poor dear, and I’m sure she meant it as a sign of reconciliation.  It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he added, taking it out of his pocket.

“Charming,” assented St Aubyn.  “That bit of lapis lazuli at the top, with a curious design upon it, is by way of being an amulet, I suppose?”

“H’m!  I don’t believe in amulets, you know,” said Austin, nodding sagely.  “I consider that all nonsense.”