“Isn’t it Truth?” said Babie. “Mr. Acton said Truth was at the bottom of a well. I won’t look at the kobolds if they keep one from seeing Truth.”
“But I must get my ring and all my jewels from them,” put in Elfie.
“Should you know Truth?” asked Mr. Ogilvie. “What do you think she is like?”
“So beautiful!” said Babie, clasping her fingers with earnestness. “All white and clear like crystal, with such blue, sweet, open eyes. And she has an anchor.”
“That’s Hope?” said Armine.
“Oh! Hope and Truth go hand in hand,” said Babie; “and Hope will be all robed in green like the young corn-fields in the spring.”
“Ah, Babie, that emerald Hope and crystal Truth are not down in the earth, earthy,” said Mary again.
“Nay, perhaps Armine has got hold of a reality,” said Mr. Ogilvie. “They are to be found above by working below.”
“Talking paradox to Armine?” said the cheerful voice of the young mother. “My dear sprites, do you know that it is past eight! How wet you are! Good night, and mind you don’t go upstairs in those boots.”
“It is quite comfortable to hear anything so commonplace,” said Mary, when the children had run away, to the sound of its reiteration after full interchange of good nights. “Those imps make one feel quite eerie.”