Nevertheless, Everychild was not at all sure that he was glad to see
her. The mask she wore really did give her a very strange appearance.
Still, he faced Hansel with a certain proud bearing. "That is it," he
said.

And then he turned about again to look at the Masked Lady, for he had
noted that there was something strange about her appearance. She had
left her spinning wheel somewhere. Now she carried the crook of a
shepherdess. One hand rested lightly on the limb of a tree. And there
were sheep not far away. Some were lying on the grass resting; and
some were moving about, their eyes and noses seemingly very much
alive--and their tails. They wiggled their tails with the greatest
energy.

"I didn't expect to see _you_ here," said Everychild.

The Masked Lady replied, again with that queer smile about her lips, "I
am very often near when you think I am far away."

And then Everychild perceived another person standing not far from the
Masked Lady: a little man wearing large spectacles and thread-bare
clothes. He was looking at nothing whatever save a note-book which he
carried in his hand, and he was scribbling intently. Occasionally he
lifted his hand high and touched the note-book with his pencil, and
drew the pencil away with a precise movement. This was when he was
making a period.

"And the--the gentleman," said Everychild. "Is he somebody who belongs
to you?"

The Masked Lady seemed surprised by this question, until she perceived
the little man with the note-book. Then she replied lightly--"Oh--him!
That's Mr. Literal. No, he doesn't belong with me. Quite the
contrary. Though I believe he likes to be seen in my company."

Everychild stared at the little man called Mr. Literal. "I don't like
his looks at all," he admitted. "Maybe he'll go away after awhile?"

The Masked Lady aroused herself slightly. "I can tell you something
about him," she said. "He's . . . you know the kind of boy who is
forever tagging along--when you want to go anywhere, I mean? Who is
forever disagreeing with you, and wanting things done in a different
way? Who winds up by tattling? A tattle-tale I think perhaps you call
it."

Everychild nodded his head. "You mean a snitch?" he asked.

The Masked Lady flinched a little, though she smiled too. "Is that the
word?" she asked. "Well, I've no doubt it's as good as another. If
you like you may think of Mr. Literal as a--a snitch."

The little man made a p