ey asked every one they could find whether he had seen her. The Tree
Man, his daughter, the Bird Fairies, and the Forest Children, not one of
them had seen or heard of her since she went away. But they all said
with one accord that she would surely come back in her own time. It was
not wise to go seeking her so. She loved them. She would return.

"Wait and be patient," they said. "Time will bring Helma."

But they were Forest People, who live long, long lives, and see far.
Eric was an Earth Child, and Ivra was not all a Forest Child. So they
found it hard to be wise and wait and do nothing but trust Helma and
know she would return.

So they went wandering all the day. They did not go home for meals,
even, after a while, but ate with the Tree Man and his daughter or the
Forest Children. Sometimes as they walked through the forest, looking
all about, even up into the trees for their mother, they would suddenly
burst into play. "Tag," Ivra would cry, tapping Eric on the shoulder,
and away she would fly, he after her, in a race that grew merrier and
merrier as it ran on. Ivra darted and twisted away when Eric thought he
had her, rolling down little hills on the snow crust, climbing trees,
jumping brooks until he was lucky enough to catch her by one of her
pigtails at last, or snatch her flying skirt. "Tag!" Then away he sped,
and the game would go on for a happy while.

But sooner or later they always stopped running, stopped laughing, and
remembered why they were wandering the wood alone. Then they would call
for Helma. Ivra's voice was shrill and sweet, and rang through the bare
woods like a birdsong. Eric's wavered a little uncertainly, as though he
doubted whether Helma knew it well enough to answer. "Helma, Helma,
Helma! Ohh Helma! Helmaa-a!"

No Helma answered. Sometimes a Forest Child came running to say, "We
haven't seen her yet, Ivra. But we are watching." The Bird Fairies
fluttered at the call and nodded their little heads uneasily. Children's
voices calling for their mother was a sad sound, and made the kindly
little creatures restless. One or two of them would fly to nestle in
Ivra's neck and whisper, "Give her time. Do not hurry her so. She will
come back."

But the children were losing faith. They went calling, seeking and
playing through the woods all the hours of daylight. At night Ivra told
Eric World Stories, World Story after World Story until sleep made them
forget.

The fifth morning of their se