the first notes reached them, some of his companions
ran to wake him up. Rolling to his feet, he echoed back the merry tune
of Old Pipes.

Naturally, he was very angry at being thus obliged to give up his life
of comfort, and he hoped very much that this pipe-playing would not
occur again. The next afternoon he was awake and listening, and, sure
enough, at the usual hour, along came the notes of the pipes as clear
and strong as they ever had been; and he was obliged to work as long as
Old Pipes played. The Echo-dwarf was very angry. He had supposed, of
course, that the pipe-playing had ceased forever, and he felt that he
had a right to be indignant at being thus deceived. He was so much
disturbed that he made up his mind to go and try to find out how long
this was to last. He had plenty of time, as the pipes were played but
once a day, and he set off early in the morning for the hill on which
Old Pipes lived. It was hard work for the fat little fellow, and when he
had crossed the valley and had gone some distance into the woods on the
hill-side, he stopped to rest, and in a few minutes the Dryad came
tripping along.

"Ho, ho!" exclaimed the dwarf; "what are you doing here? and how did you
get out of your tree?"

"Doing!" cried the Dryad; "I am being happy; that's what I am doing. And
I was let out of my tree by the good old man who plays the pipes to call
the cattle down from the mountain. And it makes me happier to think that
I have been of service to him. I gave him two kisses of gratitude, and
now he is young enough to play his pipes as well as ever."

The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with passion. "Am I to
believe," he said, "that you are the cause of this great evil that has
come upon me? and that you are the wicked creature who has again started
this old man upon his career of pipe-playing? What have I ever done to
you that you should have condemned me for years and years to echo back
the notes of those wretched pipes?"

At this the Dryad laughed loudly.

"What a funny little fellow you are!" she said. "Anyone would think you
had been condemned to toil from morning till night; while what you
really have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour every day the
merry notes of Old Pipes's piping. Fie upon you, Echo-dwarf! You are
lazy and selfish; and that is what is the matter with you. Instead of
grumbling at being obliged to do a little wholesome work, which is less,
I am sure, than that of a