“It’s too late!”

“Only two minutes.”

“And if the Fairy scolds me?”

“Let her scold.  After she gets tired, she will stop,” said Lamp-Wick.

“Are you going alone or with others?”

“Alone?  There will be more than a hundred of us!”

“Will you walk?”

“At midnight the wagon passes here that is to take us within the boundaries of that marvelous country.”

“How I wish midnight would strike!”

“Why?”

“To see you all set out together.”

“Stay here a while longer and you will see us!”

“No, no.  I want to return home.”

“Wait two more minutes.”

“I have waited too long as it is.  The Fairy will be worried.”

“Poor Fairy!  Is she afraid the bats will eat you up?”

“Listen, Lamp-Wick,” said the Marionette, “are you really sure that there are no schools in the Land of Toys?” “Not even the shadow of one.”

“Not even one teacher?”

“Not one.”

“And one does not have to study?”

“Never, never, never!”

“What a great land!” said Pinocchio, feeling his mouth water.  “What a beautiful land!  I have never been there, but I can well imagine it.”

“Why don’t you come, too?”

“It is useless for you to tempt me!  I told you I promised my good Fairy to behave myself, and I am going to keep my word.”

“Good-by, then, and remember me to the grammar schools, to the high schools, and even to the colleges if you meet them on the way.”

“Good-by, Lamp-Wick.  Have a pleasant trip, enjoy yourself, and remember your friends once in a while.”

With these words, the Marionette started on his way home.  Turning once more to his friend, he asked him: 

“But are you sure that, in that country, each week is composed of six Saturdays and one Sunday?”

“Very sure!”

“And that vacation begins on the first of January and ends on the thirty-first of December?”

“Very, very sure!”

“What a great country!” repeated Pinocchio, puzzled as to what to do.

Then, in sudden determination, he said hurriedly: 

“Good-by for the last time, and good luck.”

“Good-by.”

“How soon will you go?”

“Within two hours.”

“What a pity!  If it were only one hour, I might wait for you.”

“And the Fairy?”

“By this time I’m late, and one hour more or less makes very little difference.”

“Poor Pinocchio!  And if the Fairy scolds you?”

“Oh, I’ll let her scold.  After she gets tired, she will stop.”

In the meantime, the night became darker and darker.  All at once in the distance a small light flickered.  A queer sound could be heard, soft as a little bell, and faint and muffled like the buzz of a far-away mosquito.

“There it is!” cried Lamp-Wick, jumping to his feet.