Polly’s heart jumped in her body when she heard it. She felt sure that it was a call， and that anyone who heard that call would want to obey it and （what‘s more） would be able to obey it， however many worlds and ages lay between. And so， though she was filled with wonder， she was not really astonished or shocked when all of a sudden a young woman， with a kind， honest face stepped out of nowhere and stood beside her. Polly knew at once that it was the Cabby’s wife， fetched out of our world not by any tiresome magic rings， but quickly， simply and sweetly as a bird flies to its nest. The young woman had apparently been in the middle of a washing day， for she wore an apron， her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow， and there were soapsuds on her hands. If she had had time to put on her good clothes （her best hat had imitation cherries on it） she would have looked dreadful； as it was， she looked rather nice.
