Everychild | Page 4

so that he faced Father Time and the Masked Lady. Presently he took a step in their direction. And at length, with a very great effort, he spoke.
"Please--tell me who you are!" he said.
It was Father Time who replied. He replied in a voice which was quite thrilling, though not at all terrifying:
"We are the true friends of Everychild!"
Everychild brought his hands together in perplexity. "Friends?" he said. "I--I think I never saw you before. I may have seen your picture. Yours, I mean. Not the--the lady's. And I'm not sure I know your right name. If you'd tell me, and if--if the lady would take her mask off----"
But Father Time interrupted him. In a solemn voice he said, "Everychild, I have come to bid you leave all that has been closest to you and set forth upon a strange journey."
At this Everychild was deeply awed. Perhaps he was a little frightened. "All that has been closest?" he repeated. "My mother and father--it is they who have always been closest."
"Everychild must bid farewell to father and mother," declared Father Time.
And now Everychild was indeed dismayed. "Bid farewell to them?" he echoed. "Oh, please . . . and shall I never see them again?" He wished very much to approach Father Time and plead with him; but Father Time held up an arresting hand and spoke again, almost as if he were a minister in church.
"It is not given to Everychild to know what the future holds," he said. And then he again made a polite gesture toward the Masked Lady. "Only she can tell what the end of the journey shall be," he said.
It was now that Everychild looked earnestly at the Masked Lady. If she would only take her mask off! With a great effort he asked--"And she--will she befriend me when I have gone from my father and mother?"
With the deepest assurance Father Time replied, "Give her your affection and she will befriend you in every hour of loss and pain, clear to the end of your journey--and beyond."
"But," said Everychild, "she--she doesn't look very--she looks rather--rather fearful, doesn't she?"
"She is beautiful only to those who love her," said Father Time.
This seemed reassuring; and now Everychild ventured to address the Masked Lady directly. "And--and will you go with me?" he asked timidly.
She replied with great earnestness: "Everychild, go where you will, you have only to desire me greatly and I shall be with you."
Then it seemed to Everychild that it would not be a very terrible thing to go away, after all.
It was plain that Father Time and the Masked Lady were waiting for him to go; and so without any more ado he boldly approached the door which opened out upon the street. But his heart failed him again. He drew back from the door and cried out--"No, no! I cannot. I cannot go out that way. Is there no other way for me to go?"
It seemed to him that his heart must cease to beat when Father Time exclaimed in a loud voice--
"Go, Everychild!"
Still he hung back. "But not that way!" he repeated. "The wide world lies that way, and I should be afraid."
"I know," said Father Time, "that the Giant Fear lives outside that door. But him you shall slay, and then the way will be clear."
"I shall slay him?" exclaimed Everychild wonderingly. "How shall I slay him?"
"Do not doubt, and a way shall be found."
It was just at this moment that something very terrifying occurred. There was a stealthy step outside the door--the sort of step you hear when it is dark and you are alone. And Everychild could not help shrinking back as he stood with his fascinated eyes held on the door. He was staring at the door, yet he knew that the Masked Lady and Father Time were listening to that stealthy step too. The Masked Lady had put aside her spinning wheel, and Father Time had become very grave.
There was a brief interval of suspense and then the door began to open, inch by inch, very slowly. Two terrible eyes became visible.
Everychild knew immediately that it was the Giant Fear, though for a moment he could see nothing but the peeping eyes which leered horribly. And when the Giant Fear perceived that Everychild was terrified, he thrust the door open wide and stood on the threshold.
He was, I may tell you at once, the most hideous creature in the world. His cruel grin was too evil a thing to be described. He carried a great bludgeon. From his lower jaw a yellow tusk arose at either corner of his mouth and projected beyond his upper lip. His ears covered the whole sides of his head. His jaws were as large around as a bushel basket.
At first, after he had entered