Everything seemed to be quiet and still in the forest, which was going on in its natural way, as if it had never had a fairy in its shades, and did not want one either.
Philip rose to his feet and listened attentively. Nothing was to be heard but the distant hoot of an owl.
The moon grew brighter and brighter, and very beautiful did the trunks of the old trees appear in her silvery light, seeming to assume quaint and curious shapes, as the boy gazed earnestly around him, in the hope of seeing or hearing something which might direct his next proceeding.
For some time he gazed in vain, and then, remembering that he was not forbidden to speak save to a mortal, that Pincher was probably not considered a mortal in the sense in which the word had been used, and that if he was, the command to silence had ceased with the rising of the moon, he addressed his dog in the following words:—
"Pincher, old boy, I wish you would find the glade for me. After making me hold my tongue so long, and eat nothing but bread and water, it would be a thundering shame if the fairy sold me after all!"
Pincher, on being thus accosted, looked up in his master's face, whined gently, wagged his tail, and seemed inclined to run off, as if for a hunt on his own account.
But at that moment the rustling of wings was heard, accompanied by a rumbling sound inside the oak under which Philip had been sitting, and an instant afterwards he was startled by the sudden appearance of a white owl, very similar to that which he had seen and heard in the fairy glade. She bustled out of the hollow of the tree in just such a hurry as you might fancy her to have been in if she had overslept herself and found she should very likely be late for the train, and, as soon as she got well out, she perched upon a branch for a moment, shook her head once or twice as if to be quite satisfied that she was awake, and then pronouncing in a low tone the word "Follow," flew slowly off.
Philip did not hesitate for a moment to obey the bird's directions, as he had found it answer so well to do so before. He followed as fast as he could, though of course, being but a boy, he could not keep up with a bird, and would soon have lost sight of her if the distance had been long. Instead of this, however, it was fortunately short, and before the boy had gone above a hundred yards at the most, he found himself once more at the entrance of the fairy glade.
He knew pretty well what to do this time. He advanced to what appeared to be an eligible spot, pronounced the magic words with great emphasis, and then, breaking off a branch from a neighbouring tree as before, drew the mystic circle round himself and the dog, and then stood quietly waiting to see and hear what would happen next.
He had hardly completed the circle when the same thing happened as on the previous day: the same chorus of voices all broke out in the same tune, only with words slightly different—they sang