"Granny's jealous of you, and I suppose she has nagged at Granf'er so long it has become a fixed habit. I'm really sorry for the old fellow, Dryad."
"Whut?"
She turned a quizzical, puzzled face.
I laughed, gently, and made known to her the meaning of the word.
"There are lots of things I'm going to tell you when I get a chance," I added. "Wouldn't you like to know about this big world, and about the many kinds of people who live in it? About the great cities, and about what people have done and are doing? Wouldn't you like to learn how the trees grow, and what makes the wind, the lightning, and the thunder? About all the birds and animals; streams, rocks and hills? Wouldn't you like to learn all these things, and lots more?"
Her eyes had widened as I talked, and now on her fresh, unlined face a wonder and a hunger grew. It seemed as if her fallow mind was struggling to emerge from some dark, concealing mist—to leap up and meet the knowledge I had promised. A look almost of distress, born of futile longing. We were moving very slowly. She spoke.
"I've—sometimes—w'en by myse'f—mos' often in the deep woods—I've felt some'n crawlin' in here"—she put her hand to her head—"some'n' that 'peared to be want'n' to say some'n'. 'N' I's diff'ernt then. I didn't wan' to go home to Granny 'n' Granf'er. I wanted to go some'r's else—way off, maybe, 'n' I'd be mis'ble 'cause I couldn't tell—couldn't make out whut 'twuz, yo' know. 'N' after w'ile it'd go 'way 'n' leave me, 'n' I wouldn't git right fur a day or so. I ast Father John 'bout it one day 'n' it looked lak it hurt 'im, 'n' he tol' me not to have them spells if I c'd he'p it. Said they wuzn't good fur me. 'N' jes' now, w'en yo' tol' me 'bout all them things you's goin' to learn me—it come back—come back lak th' crick comes down w'en it rains in th' hills—with a rush 'n' pour, 'n'—'n'—oh! I wan' to know!—I do wan' to know!"
She clasped her hands with something like a tragic gesture, and stared hard at the ground in front with forehead a-frown.
I did not answer her at once. How could I? A new facet of her many-sided nature had flashed upon me, and I was a little dazed. We reached the tree-bridge before I attempted a reply.
"I shall be here a year. Come to see me on Baldy. Or come to the place where I first found you, and I will meet you there. I'm going to give you the things for which you long. I can do it, but not with Granny or Granf'er. They would object; they would not understand."