“Oh, I’m glad I’m unearthly,” said Stella. “I’d like to be a sort of Undine. I think I am. I don’t think I’ve got a soul, because when I play I go rushing out into the darkness to look for my soul, and the better I play the nearer I get.”
Michael stopped beneath an oak-tree and surveyed this extraordinary sister of his.
“Well, I always thought I was a mystic, but, good Lord, you’re fifty times as much of a mystic as I am,” he exclaimed with depressed conviction.
Suddenly Stella gave a loud scream.
“What on earth are you yelling at?” said Michael.
“Oh, Michael, look—a most enormous animal. Oh, look, oh, let me get up a tree. Oh, help me up. Push me up this tree.”
“It’s a wild-boar,” declared Michael in a tone of astonished interest.
Stella screamed louder than ever and clung to Michael, sobbing. The boar, however, went on its way, routing among the herbage.
“Well, you may be a genius,” said Michael, “but you’re an awful little funk.”
“But I was frightened.”