“Still, you shouldn’t give up, you know,” she said.  “Maybe that’s the reason why you’re not quite happy—­because you haven’t found the truth.”

He sighed heavily.  She hadn’t comforted him, after all.  And somehow he could not tell her that what ailed him was that he was heartsick to see his parents again.  He remembered the pretty sitting room at home, and the way his father and mother used to look; and it seemed to him that if he could go back they would perhaps be happy to see him.  But he could not speak of all this to the Masked Lady.

He was greatly amazed when she said in a low tone:  “It would be the same thing over again if you didn’t find the truth before you went back.”

It was quite as if he had spoken his thoughts to her aloud!

He drew away from her uneasily; but even as he did so she received another dove which fluttered in at the window.  And as she read the message it had brought she said musingly—­almost as if she were reading the message, and not speaking to him at all—­“Everychild shall find his parents again!”

He felt that he almost loved her when he heard those words—­almost, yet not quite.  His heart beat more lightly.  He wondered where all the children had gone.  He listened for their voices.

It was then that an outer door opened hurriedly and the giant, Will o’Dreams, entered the room.  Perceiving Everychild, he stood an instant with clinched hands and uplifted face; and then he cried out in a loud voice: 

“Everychild!”

And Everychild replied, with a little of that kindly condescension which a married man feels toward a youth, “Well, my boy?”

The giant cried out with elation, “Everychild, I have found her house!”

“You have found her house?” echoed Everychild in perplexity.

“My mother’s house!  I have seen it again!  These many days, while you have been happy here, I have made countless journeys far and near.  I made a final search.  I could not give her up.  And now I have found her house—­the house where I dwelt when I was a child!”

This was good news, indeed.  Everychild knew how the heart of the giant had yearned for his mother.  He smiled delightedly.  “Ah, and so you have seen her at last!” he cried.

“I have not seen her—­no,” confessed the giant.  “They would not allow me to enter—­they who surround her.  I was but one, and they were many; and they are cruel and relentless.  But now that I have found the place which shelters her I shall not give up until I stand face to face with her again.  Dear Everychild . . .”

“Well?” said Everychild, seeing that his friend found it very hard to continue.

“I have come now to tell you we must part.  I could not remain away, remembering that I had not bade you farewell.  But now I go to watch for her until she emerges from her door, or until her followers slumber . . .  Oh, the obstacles shall be as nothing.  Only rejoice with me that I am to meet her again at last!”