This was the end of the story, and the beginning of Trustee Days for
Margaret MacLean.

She soon made the discovery that she was not the only child in the ward
who felt about it that way. Her discovery was a matter of intuition
rather than knowledge; for--as if by silent consent--the topic was
carefully avoided in the usual ward conversation. One does not make it
a rule to talk about the hobgoblins that lurk in the halls at night, or
the gray, creeping shapes that come out of dark corners and closets
after one has gone to bed, if one is so pitifully unfortunate as to
possess these things in childhood. Instead one just remembers and
waits, shivering. Only to old Cassie, the scrub-woman, who was young
Cassie then, did she confide her fear. From her she received a
charm--compounded of goose eggshells and vinegar--which Cassie claimed
to be what they used in Ireland to unbewitch changelings. She kept the
charm hidden for months under her pillow. It proved comforting,
although absolutely ineffectual.

And for months there had been a strained relationship between the Old
Senior Surgeon and herself, causing them both much embarrassment. She
resented the story he had made for her with all her child soul; he had
cheated her--fooled her. She felt much as we felt toward our parents
when we made our first discovery concerning Santa Claus.

But after a time--a long time--the story came to belong to her again;
she grew to realize that the Old Senior Surgeon had told it
truthfully--only with the unconscious tongue of the poet instead of the
grim realist. She found out as well that it had done a wonderful thing
for her: it had turned life into an adventure--a quest upon which one
was bound to depart, no matter how poorly one's feet might be shod or