f all the twenty-four, and yet--As I sat there beneath a
gnarled thorn, weary and warm with my climb, I looked into the heart of
a bluebell forest growing under a circle of gleaming silver birches,
and suddenly I heard fairy music--at least it was not mortal--and many
sounds were mingled in it: the sighing of birches, the carol of a lark,
the leap and laugh of a silvery runnel tumbling down the hillside, the
soft whir of butterflies' wings, and a sweet little over or under tone,
from the over or under world, that I took to be the opening of a million
hyacinth buds in the sunshine. Then I heard the delicious sound of
a fairy laugh, and, looking under a swaying branch of meadowsweet, I
saw--yes, I really saw--You must know that first a wee green door swung
open in the stem of the meadowsweet, and out of that land where you can
buy joy for a penny came a fairy in the usual red and green. I had the
Elf Errant in my lap, and I think that in itself made him feel more at
home with me, as well as the fact, perhaps, that for the moment I wasn't
a bit sensible and had no money about me. I was all ready with an
Irish salutation, for the purposes of further disarming his aversion. I
intended to say, as prettily as possible, though, alas! I cannot manage
the brogue, "And what way do I see you now?" or "Good-mornin' to yer
honour's honour!" But I was struck dumb by my good fortune at seeing him
at all. He looked at me once, and then, flinging up his arms, he gave a
weeny, weeny yawn! This was disconcerting, for people almost never yawn
in my company; and to make it worse, he kept on yawning, until, for very
sympathy, and not at all in the way of revenge, I yawned too. Then the
green door swung open again, and a gay rabble of wide-awake fairies came
trooping out: and some of them kissed the hyacinth bells to open them,
and some of them flew to the thorn-tree, until every little brancheen
was white with flowers, where but a moment ago had been tightly-closed
buds. The yawning fairy slept meanwhile under the swaying meadowsweet,
and the butterflies fanned him with their soft wings; but, alas! it
could not have been the hour for dancing on the fairy ring, nor the
proper time for the fairy pipers, and long, long as I looked I saw and
heard nothing more than what I have told you. Indeed, I presently lost
even that, for a bee buzzed, a white petal dropped from the thorn-tree
on my face, there was a scraping of tiny claws and the sound of two