. In the days of the guild . rubbish and picked out fragment after fragment,comparing them with keen interest. No harm is done, he said as he met Alans troubled gaze,there may be something else worth keeping here. At anyrate you shall make more blue glass. Keep the formula safeand secret. There are days in all mens work which are rememberedwhile memory endures—hours when the inspiration of a newthought is like a song of gladness, and the mind forgets thedrag of past failure. The little group in the Abbey glass-houseand the adjoining rooms where the goldsmiths worked, werepossessed by this mood
. In the days of the guild . rubbish and picked out fragment after fragment,comparing them with keen interest. No harm is done, he said as he met Alans troubled gaze,there may be something else worth keeping here. At anyrate you shall make more blue glass. Keep the formula safeand secret. There are days in all mens work which are rememberedwhile memory endures—hours when the inspiration of a newthought is like a song of gladness, and the mind forgets thedrag of past failure. The little group in the Abbey glass-houseand the adjoining rooms where the goldsmiths worked, werepossessed by this mood of delight. The chalice that Guyhad finished, the deep azure glass and the reliquary representedmore real achievement than they had to show for any day inthe past six months. There was just the difference that sep-arates the perfect from the not quite perfect. Their dreamswere coming true. The young men walked over the fields to supper at theAbbey farm, as usual, and Dame Cicely, as usual, stood in thedoor to greet AND THERE GOES \YTTAT WOULD SEAT THE KTXG OF ENGLANDTHE TTJROXK OF THE CAESARS, OroTIT TOMASO- Page 293 O\ COCKATRICE EGGS 285 How goes the work, lads? she asked, and then caughtAlan by the shoulder, crying, No need to answer. I knowby the face on thee. What hast been doing to make it shineso? Only finished a piece o work, mother, said Padraig witha grin. It takes some men a long time to do that. If theywould bide just this side of a masterpiece theyd save emselvestrouble. But they will spend all their force on the last step. Aye, said Alan, better leap clean over the Strid whileyoure about it. And for once Padraig had no more to say. Oddly enough Brother Basil also thought of the Strid thatnight—the deep and dangerous whirlpool in the grim NorthCountry had haunted him ever since he saw it. He andTomaso came back, after dark, to the crypt, and spread outthe torn manuscripts by the light of two flambeaux in thewall. None of the pages were whole, and the sc
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