"Why, that's not a palace; that's
where I live."
The boy looked at her with new awe; if she were a fairy---- But the
girl had noticed that his feet made no sound beside her shoes.
"Don't the thorns prick your feet, wood-boy?" she asked; but the boy
said nothing, and they were both silent for a while, the girl looking
about her keenly as she walked, and the boy watching her face.
Presently they came to a wide pool where a little tinkling fountain
threw bubbles to the hidden fish.
"Can you swim?" she said to the boy.
He shook his head.
"It's a pity," said the girl; "we might have had a bathe. It would be
rather fun in the dark, but it's pretty deep there. We'd better get
on to the fairy ring."
The moon had flung queer shadows across the glade in which the ring
lay, and when they stood on the edge listening intently the wood
seemed to speak to them with a hundred voices.
"You can take hold of my hand, if you like," said the girl, in a
whisper.
The boy dropped his flowers about his white feet and felt for the
girl's hand in the dark. Soon it lay in his own, a warm live thing,
that stirred a little with excitement.
"I'm not afraid," the girl said; and so they waited.
* * * * *
The man came upon them suddenly from among the silver birches. He had
a knapsack on his back and his hair was as long as a tramp's. At
sight of him the girl almost screamed, and her hand trembled in the
boy's.
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