“I!” answered Kitty. “I—why, of course—I am—I am—” Then she stopped; she could not remember who she was. “Where is mamma?” she cried, frightened at forgetting.
“Mamma—you’ve no mamma—what was she like?” demanded the goat-legged creature, throwing back its goat-eared head and laughing.
“Mamma—she was—she was—talking to me—just now—why—I can’t—I can’t remember what—she was saying;” and Kitty looked blankly at the frisking being. It laughed louder and louder. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho! It sniffed the air with delight; it tumbled and gamboled about, clattering its cloven feet.
“There was Johnnie, I know there was Johnnie,” said Kitty slowly.
“Johnnie! I am Johnnie!” cried the brown creature. It ran up the tree that overshadowed the gate, and peered through the branches at Kitty.
“No, you are not Johnnie,” she answered, shaking her head. She was quite sure of that.
Down it jumped and began marching backward and forward with high steps, keeping time as to the sound of music. Its pretty boy-head was thrown back—mischief and sportiveness peeped out of its bright eyes.
Kitty thought she had never seen anything so pretty, playful, and delightful as this elfish being with its pointed ears, its tiny horns, and bit of a tail. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I!” The creature paused in its marching, laughed and sniffed the air, frisking to a measure of its own, first on one horny foot, then on the other, chanting as it frisked:
“I am what makes the kids jump, the kittens tumble, and the children dance.”