me what it means. 'Twas the day
for the moor-fairies to show themselves, it comes but once in seven
years, and we've been in luck indeed."

'Then Robin told her of the laughing he, too, had heard, and of the good
news he was bringing, and together they went on to the cottage, thankful
that they had not missed the chance which had come to them by fear or
selfishness. And from that day for seven years to come anyhow it did
seem as if they were specially befriended, everything went well with
them, and so far as I remember what my grandmother said, this good turn
helped Robin on through his life. He was a grandfather himself when he
told the story, much respected through the country-side--a good, kind
man, as he had been a good, kind boy.'

Nance stopped. Rosamond gave a sigh of satisfaction.

'What a pretty story,' she said, 'and how nicely you've told it--Mrs.
Crag,' for she did not quite know what to call the old woman.

Nance smiled, well pleased. It was true; she had a real gift for
story-telling, and though her accent sounded strange, her words were so
correctly chosen, and her whole tone had so much charm about it, that it
was almost difficult to believe that she had not at some time of her
life been in a much better position than now.

'I'm right glad that you've liked my old story,' she said. 'But don't
call me Mrs. Crag, missie dear; it doesn't suit me. Say "Nance," like
the young gentlemen. I've plenty more stories packed away somewhere in
my head that I can get out for you if you care to hear them.'

'I wonder,' said Pat, 'if the fairies were seen again ever? Do you think
they kept coming back every seven years, Nance?'

The old woman shook her head.

'I can't say, Master Pat,' she replied, 'but I'm afraid those days are
over now, the world's too changed, and all the new-fangled ways frighten
the good people away.'

'Do you think there were ever fairies on _this_ moor?' said Archie. 'It
says in our story-books that there are ever so many different kinds,
some in forests, some in brooks and rivers, but I never heard of moor
ones before. Are you sure, Nance, that if we sat up all night, or got up
very, very early in the morning some particular day, we mightn't see
something queer, or hear something? Like the boy, Johnnie-- Somebody?
who climbed up the mountain on Midsummer's eve.'

'No, no, Master Archie,' said Nance. 'Times are changed, as I told you.
You'd catch nothing but a bad cold. You mustn't try