So Mr. Pithey showed himself to Ruth at his best, and though perhaps it was not a very handsome best, the direct result was a row of cottages as a thank-offering.
“Once upon a time,” began Ruth, “there was a little Earth Elemental who had made the most beautiful flower in all the world, or at least it thought it was the most beautiful, so of course, for it, it was.”
“What is an Earth Elemental?” asked Elaine Pithey.
“The Earth Elementals are the fairies who help make the plants and flowers.”
“We don’t believe in fairies,” said Elaine primly.
“She’s a bit beyond that sort of stuff,” added Mr. Pithey, looking at the small replica of himself with pride.
“Some people don’t,” answered Ruth politely, watching the little blue butterflies among the pale gold stubble, with lazy eyes. Almost she heard echoes of elfin laughter, high and sweet.
“I’ve seen them,” Moira broke out very suddenly and to Ruth’s astonishment. That Moira “saw” things she had little doubt, but even to her the little lady was reticent. Something in the Puritan self-complacence had apparently roused her in defence of her inner world.
“What are they like then?” asked Elaine, supercilious still, but with an undercurrent of excitement plainly visible.
“They’re different,” said Moira. “Some are like humming-birds, only they’ve colours, not feathers, and some are like sweet-peas made of starlight. But some of them are just green and brown—very soft.”