the reeds, killing each as she took it out, and threading it on a
long osier that she carried. Then she knotted the osier, hung it
on her arm, picked up the pitcher, and turned to come back. And
as she turned she saw the four children. The white dresses of
Jane and Anthea stood out like snow against the dark forest
background. She screamed and the pitcher fell, and the water was
spilled out over the hard mud surface and over the fish, which
had fallen too. Then the water slowly trickled away into the
deep cracks.

'Don't be frightened,' Anthea cried, 'we won't hurt you.'

'Who are you?' said the girl.

Now, once for all, I am not going to be bothered to tell you how
it was that the girl could understand Anthea and Anthea could
understand the girl. YOU, at any rate, would not understand ME,
if I tried to explain it, any more than you can understand about
time and space being only forms of thought. You may think what
you like. Perhaps the children had found out the universal
language which everyone can understand, and which wise men so far
have not found. You will have noticed long ago that they were
singularly lucky children, and they may have had this piece of
luck as well as others. Or it may have been that ... but why
pursue the question further? The fact remains that in all their
adventures the muddle-headed inventions which we call foreign
languages never bothered them in the least. They could always
understand and be understood. If you can explain this, please
do. I daresay I could understand your explanation, though you
could never understand mine.