“Why do you? You’ve never seen a fairy in ’em.”
“No, but I ’most have. I’ve seen lots of places where they come out and dance at night. Pinkie shows ’em to me.”
“Pooh, she doesn’t know for sure.”
“No, not for sure. Nobody does. But she says most prob’ly that’s where they dance. Do fairies ever live in caves, Dick?”
“Not ’zactly fairies. But dwarfs do, and gnomes and things like that?”
“Sprites?”
“Yes, I guess so. And brownies,—real brownies, I mean; not the picture-book kind. Hello, Doll, here’s a place that looks cavy!”
Dick paused before a rough mass of soil and stones and mossy overgrowth, that did seem to bear some resemblance to the blocked-up mouth of a cave.
But it was just as much like a mere natural formation of ground, and after digging and poking around with sticks, the children concluded it was not a cave, after all.
“Oh, pshaw, we’ll never find a real cave, Dick; let’s go home. I’m getting hungry.”