day many of the villagers stopped in their work to listen to the echo of
the pipes coming from the woods. The sound was not as clear and strong
as it used to be when it was sent back from the rocky hill-side, but it
certainly came from among the trees. Such a thing as an echo changing
its place in this way had never been heard of before, and nobody was
able to explain how it could have happened. Old Pipes, however, knew
very well that the sound came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great
oak tree. The sides of the tree were thin, and the sound of the pipes
could be heard through them, and the dwarf was obliged by the laws of
his being to echo back those notes whenever they came to him. But Old
Pipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble if he let anyone know
that the Echo-dwarf was shut up in the tree, and so he wisely said
nothing about it.

One day the two boys and the girl who had helped Old Pipes up the hill
were playing in the woods. Stopping near the great oak tree, they heard
a sound of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said:

"Let me out! let me out!"

For a moment the children stood still in astonishment, and then one of
the boys exclaimed:

"Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found! Let's let her out!"

"What are you thinking of?" cried the girl. "I am the oldest of all, and
I am only thirteen. Do you wish to be turned into crawling babies? Run!
run! run!"

And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the valley as fast as
their legs could carry them. There was no desire in their youthful
hearts to be made younger than they were, and for fear that their
parents might think it well that they should commence their careers
anew, they never said a word about finding the Dryad tree.

As the summer days went on, Old Pipes's mother grew feebler and feebler.
One day when her son was away, for he now frequently went into the woods
to hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she arose from her
knitting to prepare the simple dinner. But she felt so weak and tired
that she was not able to do the work to which she had been so long
accustomed. "Alas! alas!" she said, "the time has come when I am too old
to work. My son will have to hire some one to come here and cook his
meals, make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I had hoped that
as long as I lived I should be able to do these things. But it is not
so. I have grown utterly worthless, and some one else must prepare the
din