ing about her.

"It is astonishing how well I feel to-day," said his mother; "and
either my hearing has improved or you speak much more plainly than
you have done of late."

The summer days went on and passed away, the leaves were falling
from the trees, and the air was becoming cold.

"Nature has ceased to be lovely," said the Dryad, "and the night
winds chill me. It is time for me to go back into my comfortable
quarters in the great oak. But first I must pay another visit to the
cottage of Old Pipes."

She found the piper and his mother sitting side by side on the rock
in front of the door. The cattle were not to go to the mountain any
more that season, and he was piping them down for the last time.
Loud and merrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and down the
mountain-side came the cattle, the cows by the easiest paths, the
sheep by those not quite so easy, and the goats by the most
difficult ones among the rocks; while from the great oak-tree were
heard the echoes of the cheerful music.

"How happy they look, sitting there together!" said the Dryad; "and
I don't believe it will do them a bit of harm to be still younger."
And moving quietly up behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his
cheek and then his mother.

Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it was, but he did not
move, and said nothing. His mother, thinking that her son had kissed
her, turned to him with a smile and kissed him in return. And then
she arose and went into the cottage, a vigorous woman of sixty,
followed by her son, erect and happy, and twenty years younger than
herself.

The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her shoulders as she
felt the cool evening wind.

When she reached the great oak, she turned the key and opened the
door. "Come out," she said to the Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking
within. "Winter is coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter of
my tree for myself. The cattle have come down from the mountain for
the last time this year, the pipes will no longer sound, and you can
go to your rocks and have a holiday until next spring."

Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly out, and the
Dryad entered the tree and pulled the door shut after her. "Now,
then," she said to herself, "he can break off the key if he likes.
It does not matter to me. Another will grow out next spring. And
although the good piper made me no promise, I know that when the
warm days arrive next year he will come and let me o