"Well," returned Mr. Black, "worrying won't hurry matters, so you'd better amuse yourselves with other things—perhaps Saunders will help."
Saunders did help; nevertheless, it was hard to wait; for by this time Laddie-Billy was quite certain that he was a friendless waif, a homeless orphan, or, at best, a hopelessly lost youngster with only half a mind.
"I'd rather be dead," mourned Billy, bitterly, "than a blithering idiot."
CHAPTER XXVI
In Fairyland
MR. BLACK, hearing nothing from Billy's people and knowing that Saunders was an able guard for his precious family, remained away for three days; for he found a number of matters in Lakeville that claimed his attention. He paid his fine cheerfully, and declared ever afterwards that the day's sport was worth all that it had cost him.
Mr. Saunders proved a most delightful companion, in spite of his misfit clothing; for the tall, slender young man had borrowed stout Mr. Black's camping costume. Wherever he went he was followed by devoted Billy and the no less devoted girls. Dave liked him, too. Even Rosa Marie waddled at his heels and grunted happily when he condescended to pat her black head or her fat brown hands. It may have been his undeniably red hair that charmed Rosa Marie, but it was his voice that pleased the girls; for he proved a decidedly eloquent person. He told them the most wonderful of fairy tales, recited miles and miles of nonsense rhymes and several yards, as Bettie said, of real poetry.
But the fairy tales pleased them most because there were so many spots near Pete's Patch that seemed just like little bits of Fairyland; and sometimes Saunders' tales were cleverly fitted to these suitable surroundings. Before the three days were over, the girls were living in a veritable land of enchantment and went about with such dreamy eyes that Mrs. Crane was certain that they were all bewitched.
On the last forenoon of the useful young man's visit, Mabel, pursuing a startled brown rabbit, happened to stumble into the very heart of Fairyland. The rabbit led her out of Pete's Patch, through thicket and marsh, to an unsuspected bayou—a little bay that had once been part of the lively river but was now merely a quiet pond. Mabel found herself on the very muddy edge of a wide circular basin that was bigger than it looked. The banks were a tangled, seemingly impenetrable mass of green foliage, showing occasionally the vivid pink of a late wild rose or the dazzling white of Queen Anne's lace and meadow-sweet. More inviting than all were quantities of strange water flowers of shining white that spangled the glinting surface of the pond. These were new to Mabel and all hers for the gathering.