class="narrative">“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