WINFRIED.

"And somewhat southward toward the noon,

Whence lies a way up to the moon;

And thence the fairy can as soon

Pass to the earth below it."

Drayton.

Joan, a pleasant-faced young woman who had once been the children's

nurse, and was now married to a fisherman who owned several boats, and

was a person of some consequence among the villagers, was standing at

the door of her cottage with a baby in her arms as the children came up.

Her face beamed with smiles, but before she had time to speak Ruby

called out to her.

"How are you, Joan? We've come round to ask how baby is, but it's very

easy to see he is better, otherwise you wouldn't be so smiling."

"And here he is to speak for himself, Miss Ruby," said Joan. "How very

kind of you to think of him! And you too, Miss Mavis, my dear. Are you

both quite well?"

"Yes, thank you, Joan," said Mavis quietly. But Ruby was fussing about

the baby, admiring him and petting him in a way that could scarcely fail

to gain his mother's heart. Joan, however, though fond of both the

children, had plenty of discernment. She smiled at Ruby--"Miss Ruby has

pretty ways with her, there's no denying," she told her husband

afterwards,--but there was a very gentle tone in her voice as she turned

to Mavis.

"You've had no more headaches, I hope, Miss Mavis? Have you been

working hard at your lessons?"

"I have to work hard if I work at all, Joan," said the little girl

rather sadly.

"She's so stupid," said Ruby; "and she gets her head full of fancies. I

daresay that prevents her having room for sensible things. Oh,

by-the-bye, Joan, tell us who lives in that queer cottage all by itself

some way farther along the coast. I never saw it till the other day--

it's almost hidden among the rocks. But Mavis says she once passed it

with you, and you made her run by quickly. Why did you, Joan? I do so

want to know."

Joan looked rather at a loss.

"You mean old Adam's cottage," she said. "I really don't know why

people speak against him. He's never done any harm, indeed, he's a kind

old man. But he's come from a long way off, and he's not like the other

folk, and they got up a tale that there were queer sounds and sights in

his cottage sometimes--singing and lights late at night, that couldn't

be canny. Some spoke of mermaids swimming down below in front of his

hut and him standing talking to them quite friendly-like. But that's a

good while ago now, and I think it's forgotten. And he goes to church

regularly. You'll always be sure of seeing him there."

"Then why don't people like him?" said Mavis.

"Perhaps it's just because he is good and goes to church," said Ruby.

"I'm not at all sure that I like extra good people myself. They're so

tiresome."

"He's not one to meddle with others," said Joan. "He keeps very much to

himself, and his talking doesn't sound like ours. So they call him a

foreigner. Indeed, he's often not heard of or seen for weeks and even

months at a time, unless any one's ill or in trouble, and then he seems

to know it all of himself, and comes to see if he can help. That's one

reason why they think him uncanny."

"Did he come when baby was ill?" asked Ruby. Joan shook her head.

"No, for a wonder he didn't."

"Perhaps he's dead," said Ruby indifferently.

"We're going past that way, Mavis. Let's peep in and see."

Mavis grew rather pale.

"Ruby," she said, "I wish you wouldn't--you frighten me."

"Miss Ruby would be frightened herself. She's only joking," said Joan.

"I don't suppose there's aught the matter, still I don't think you'd

better stop at old Adam's. It isn't like as if he was one of our own

folk."

"Rubbish!" said Ruby again. "I'm off. You can send your husband to see

if the old wizard has turned us into frogs or sea-gulls, in case we are

not heard of any more. Good-night;" and off she ran.

Mavis had to follow her. There was not much fear of Ruby's really doing

anything rash, for she was by no means a very brave child, still Mavis

always felt uncomfortable when her sister got into one of these wild

moods.

"Good-bye, Joan," she said gently. "I'm so glad baby's better. I

daresay Ruby's only joking;" and then she ran along the path, which just

here in the hamlet was pretty level and smooth, after Ruby.

They had quite half a mile to go before they got to the lonely cottage.

It stood some way back from the shore, and great craggy rocks near at

hand almost hid it from sight. One might have passed by that way often

without noticing that there was any human dwelling-place there. But the

children were on the look-out.

"There," said Ruby, "the old ogre can't be dead: there's smoke coming

out of the chimney. And--oh, just look, Mavis, what a big fire he must

have; do you see the red of it in the window?"

"No," said Mavis, "it's the sun setting. Look out to sea--isn't it

splendid?"

But Ruby had set her heart upon exploring the fisherman's hut. She

began scrambling up the stones, for there was really nothing worthy of

the name of a pathway, quite regardless of the beautiful sight behind

her. And as usual. Mavis had to follow, though reluctantly. Still she

was not quite without curiosity about the lonely cottage herself.

Suddenly, when within a short distance of the hut, Ruby stopped short,

and glancing back towards her sister, lifted her hand as if to tell her

to be silent and listen. Then Mavis became conscious of the sound of

voices speaking--not old Adam's voice certainly, for these sounded soft

and clear, and now and then came a ripple of silvery laughter, very

sweet and very delicate. The little girls, who had drawn near together,

looked at each other.

"Who can it be?" said Mavis in a whisper.

"The mermaids," replied Ruby mockingly. "Perhaps old Adam has invited

them to tea."

But as she spoke there came distinctly the sound of the words "Good-bye,

good-bye," and then there was silence.

Somehow both children felt rather frightened. "Suppose old Adam's

really dead," said Ruby, looking rather pale, "and that these are--

fairies, or I don't know what, come to fetch him."

"Angels," said Mavis. "Joan says he's good. But--Ruby--I shouldn't

think angels would laugh." She had scarcely said the words when they

saw running down the rough slope from the hut the figure of a boy. He

ran fast and lightly, his feet scarcely seeming to touch the stones; he

was slight and very active-looking; it was pretty to watch him running,

even though as he came close it was plain that he was only a simple

fisher-boy, in rough clothes, barefoot and sunburnt. He slackened his

pace a little as he came near the children, then glancing at them with a

smile he lifted his dark blue cap and stopped short.

"Can I?" he began, then hesitated. He had a pleasant face and clear

grey eyes, which looked one straight in the face with interest and

inquiry.

"What do you say?" asked Ruby rather haughtily.

"I thought perhaps you had lost your way," he answered quietly.

"There's not many gentry comes round here;" and then he smiled, for no

very particular reason apparently, though his smile nevertheless gave

one the feeling that he had a reason if he chose to give it.

"No, we haven't lost our way," said Ruby; "we came here on purpose. Do

you know the old man who lives up there?" and she pointed to the hut.

"Is it true that there's something queer about him?"

The boy looked at her, still smiling.

"Queer?" he repeated.

Ruby began to feel annoyed. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Yes," she said, "_queer_. Why do you repeat my words, and why don't

you say `Miss,' or `My Lady?' Lots of the people here call me `My

Lady.' Do you know who I am?"

The boy's face had grown graver.

"Yes," he said. "You are the little ladies from the castle. I have

seen you sometimes. I have seen you in church. We always call you the

little ladies--grandfather and I--when we are talking. He has told me

about you--and--I've heard about the castle, though I've never been in

it. It's very fine. I like to look up at it from the sea."

Ruby felt a little smoothed down. Her tone became more gracious.

Mavis, who had drawn near, stood listening with great interest, and as

the boy turned towards her the smile came over his face again.

"Who do you mean by `grandfather'?" asked Ruby eagerly. "Is it old

Adam? I didn't know he had any children or grandchildren."

"Yes," the boy replied, "I'm his grandson. Was it grandfather you meant

when you said he was queer?"

"Oh," said Mavis, "Ruby didn't mean to be rude. It was only nonsense.

People say--"

"They say he's very queer indeed," said Ruby, who had no intention of

deserting her colours. "They say he's a kind of a wizard or an ogre,

and that you hear all sorts of sounds--music and talking and I don't

know all what--if you're near his cottage in the evening, and that there

are lights to be seen in it too, not common lights like candles, but

much more. Some say he's friends with the mermaids, and that they come

to see him--is that true?" and notwithstanding her boasted boldness Ruby

dropped her voice a little, and glanced over her shoulder half nervously

seawards, as if not quite sure but that some of the tailed ladies in

question might be listening to her.

The boy did more than smile now. He laughed outright; but his laugh,

though bright and ringing, was not the laugh the sisters had heard from

the cottage.

"The mermaids," he said. "No, indeed, poor little things, they never

visit grandfather."

"Well, why do you laugh?" said Ruby angrily again. "You speak as if

there _were_ mermaids."

"I was thinking of stories I have heard about them," said the boy

simply. "But I couldn't help laughing to think of them coming to see

grandfather. How could they ever get up these stones?"

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," Ruby answered impatiently. "If he's a

wizard he could do anything like that. I wish you'd tell us all about

him. You must know, as you live with him."

"I've not been long with him," said the boy. "He _may_ be friends with

the mermaids for all I know. He's friends with everybody."

"You're mocking at me," said Ruby, "and I won't have it. I'm sure you

could tell me things if you chose."

"We did hear talking and laughing," said Mavis gently, speaking almost

for the first time, "and it seemed as if there was some one else there."

The boy looked at her again, and a very pleasant light came into his

eyes--more than that, indeed, as Mavis watched him it seemed to her that

they changed in colour. Was it the reflection from the sky? No, there

was a mingling of every hue to be seen over by the western horizon

certainly, but scarcely the deep clear midsummer sky-blue they suddenly

became.

"What funny eyes you've got," exclaimed the child impulsively. "They're

quite blue now, and they weren't a minute ago."

Ruby stared at him and then at Mavis. "Nonsense," she said, "they're

not. They're just common coloured eyes. You shouldn't say such things,

Mavis; people will think you're out of your mind." Mavis looked very

ashamed, but the boy's face flushed up. He looked both glad and

excited.

"If you please, miss," he said, "some people see things that others

don't. I don't even mind that nonsense about gran and the mermaids;

those that say it don't know any better."

Ruby looked at him sharply.

"Then there is something to know," she said. "Now you might as well

tell us all about it. Is old Adam a wizard?"

"That he's not," answered the boy stoutly, "if so be, as I take it, that

a wizard means one that has to do with bad spirits--unkind and

mischief-making and unloving, call them what you will. None of such

like would come near gran, or, if they did, he'd soon send them to the

right-about. I'd like you to see him for yourself some day, but not

to-day, if you'll excuse it. He's very tired. I was running down to

the shore to fetch a pailful of sea water to bathe his lame arm."

"Then we mustn't keep you," said Mavis. "But might we really come to

see your grandfather some day, do you think?"

"I'll ask him," said the boy; "and I think he'd be pleased to see you."

"You might come up to the castle if there's anything he would like--a

little soup or anything," said Ruby in her patronising way. "I'll speak

to the housekeeper."

"Thank you, miss," said the boy, but more hesitatingly than he had

spoken before.

"What's your name?" asked Ruby. "We'd better know it, so that you can

say who you are when you come."

"Winfried," he answered simply.

"Then good-bye, Winfried," said Ruby. "Come on, Mavis;" and she turned

to pursue her way home past the cottage.

Winfried hesitated. Then he ran a step or two after them.

"I can show you a nearer way home to the castle," he said, "and if you

don't mind, it would be very kind of you not to go near by our cottage.

Grandfather is feeble still--did you know he had been very ill?--and

seeing or hearing strangers might startle him."

"Then you come with us," said Ruby. "You can tell him who we are."

"I'm in a hurry to get the salt water," said the boy. "I have put off

time already, and if you won't think me rude I'd much rather you came to

the cottage some day when we could invite you to step in."

His manner was so simple and hearty that Ruby could not take offence,

though she had been quite ready to do so.

"Very well," she said, "then show us your nearer way."

He led them without speaking some little distance towards the shore

again. After all there was a path--not a bad one of its kind, for here

and there it ran on quite smoothly for a few yards and then descended by

stones arranged so as to make a few rough steps.

"Dear me," said Ruby, "how stupid we were not to find this path before."

Winfried smiled. "I scarce think you could have found it without me to

show you," he said, "nor the short way home either for that matter. See

here;" and having come to the end of the path he went on a few steps

along the pebbly shore, for here there was no smooth sand, and stopped

before a great boulder stone, as large as a hay-cart, which stood out

suddenly among the broken rocks. Winfried stepped up close to it and

touched it apparently quite gently. To the children's amazement it

swung round lightly as if it had been the most perfectly hung door. And

there before them was revealed a little roadway, wide enough for two to

walk abreast, which seemed to wind in and out among the rocks as far as

they could see. It was like a carefully rolled gravel path in a garden,

except that it seemed to be of a peculiar kind of sand, white and

glistening.

Ruby darted forward.

"What a lovely path!" she exclaimed; "will it take us straight home?

Are you sure it will?"

"Quite sure," said Winfried. "You will see your way in no time if you

run hand-in-hand."

"What a funny idea," laughed the child; and Mavis too looked pleased.

"I'm quite sure it's a fairy road," she was beginning to say, but,

looking round, their little guide had disappeared. Then came his voice:

"Good-night," he said cheerfully. "I've shut-to the stone door, and I'm

up on the top of it. Good-night, little ladies. Run home

hand-in-hand."

The girls looked at each other.

"Upon my word," exclaimed Ruby, not quite knowing what to say, "if old

Adam isn't a wizard his grandson is. I think we'd better get out of

this as quick as we can, Mavis."

She seemed half frightened and half provoked. Mavis, on the contrary,

was quite simply delighted.

"I shouldn't wonder if this was the mermaid's own way to the cottage,"

she said. "I'm sure old Adam and Winfried aren't wizards; but I do

think they must be some kind of good fairies, or at least they must have

to do with fairies. Come along, Ruby, hand-in-hand;" and she held out

her own hand.

But Ruby by this time had grown cross.

"I won't give in to such rubbish," she said. "I don't want to go along

hand-in-hand like two silly babies. If it was worth the trouble I'd

climb up to the top of the stone and go home the proper way."

This was all boasting. She knew quite well she could not possibly climb

up the stone. But she walked on a few steps in sulky dignity. Suddenly

she gave a little cry, slipped, and fell.

"Oh, I've hurt my ankle!" she exclaimed. "This horrid white gravel is

so slippery."

Mavis was beside her almost before she had said the words, and with her

sister's help Ruby got on to her feet again, though looking rather

doleful.

"I believe it's all a trick of that horrid boy's," she said. "I wish

you hadn't made me come to see that dirty old cottage, Mavis."

Mavis stared.

"_Me_ make you come, Ruby?" she said. "Why, it was yourself."

"Well, you didn't stop it, any way," said Ruby, "and you seem to have

taken such a fancy to that boy and his grandfather, and--"

"Ruby, we must go home," said Mavis. "Try if you can get along."

They were "hand-in-hand." There was no help for it now. Ruby tried to

walk; to her surprise her ankle scarcely hurt her, and after a moment or

two she even began urging Mavis to go faster.

"I believe I could run," she said. "Perhaps the bone in my ankle got

out of its place and now has got into it again. Come on, Mavis."

They started running together, for in spite of her boasting Ruby had had

a lesson and would not let go of Mavis. They got on famously; the

ground seemed elastic; as they ran, each step grew at once firmer and

yet lighter.

"It isn't a bit slippery now, is it?" said Mavis, glowing with the

pleasant exercise. "And oh, Ruby, do look up at the sky--isn't it

lovely? And isn't that the evening star coming out--that blue light up

there; no, it's too early. See--no, it's gone. What could it be? Why,

here we are, at the gate of the low terrace!"

They had suddenly, as they ran, come out from the path, walled in, as it

were, among the broken rocky fragments, on to a more open space, which

at the first moment they scarcely recognised as one of the fields at the

south side of the castle.

Ruby too gazed about her with surprise.

"It _is_ a quick way home, certainly," she allowed, "but I don't see any

star or blue light, Mavis. It must be your fancy."

Mavis looked up at the sky. The sunset colours were just beginning to

fade; a soft pearly grey veil was slowly drawing over them, though they

were still brilliant. Mavis seemed perplexed.

"It is gone," she said, "but I did see it."

"It must have been the dazzle of the light in your eyes," said Ruby. "I

am seeing lots of little suns all over--red ones and yellow ones."

"No, it wasn't like that," said Mavis; "it was more like--"

"More like what?" asked Ruby.

"I was going to say more like a forget-me-not up in the sky," said her

sister.

"You _silly_ girl," laughed Ruby. "I never did hear any one talk such

nonsense as you do. I'll tell cousin Hortensia, see if I don't."

"I don't mind," said Mavis quietly.