“How did you fall in there?” I asked.
“I saw some little fish, like klinkents of rainbow, and wanted to catch them; then I slipped and soused.”
“Well,” I said, “where are you going now?”
“With you,” she answered.
I offered no resistance. I gave no thought to results, or to what my father would say when this grotesque young figure should break into his presence. Mechanically I started for home and she walked by my side, chatting. Jason strode in our rear, whistling.
“What a brute he must be!” she said once, jerking her head backward.
“Leave him alone,” I said, “or we shall quarrel. What’s a girl like you to him?”
I think she hardly heard me, for the whistle had dropped to a very mellow note. To my surprise I noticed that she was crying.
“I thought changelings couldn’t cry?” I said.
“I tell you water does not affect me,” she answered, sharply. “What a mean spy you are—for a boy.”