“Can’t—can’t I do anything for you?”
“Hush!” warned the old man. “No, I do not think you can. I do not care to divide my power with any consort. And, unless you are of noble blood I could not make you Queen of the Pipes. That would never do. Such a mésalliance would never do. My people would never stand for it—oh, never!”
“I quite understand that,” said Ruth, having difficulty to keep from smiling.
“Now go, young woman,” the man said pompously. “And do not return.”
“I will obey you,” said Ruth soberly. “If you are sure I cannot help you.”
“Hush!” he warned her again, waving his hand. “They are likely to come at any moment. And then—”
The girl backed through the bushes and stepped upon the table-like rock. She would have bade him good-bye, but he hissed after her another sibilant “hush!” and disappeared as mysteriously as he had come.
Ruth descended to the canoe and waited until they were well away from the island before she said a word to the other girls about the queer old man.