She looked up at me—for I had climbed to the tree—dumbly, yearningly.
"I'll come," she said. It was scarcely more than a half-whisper.
I did not like to leave her in that mood.
"All right, Dryad!" I returned, cheerily. "Now tell me where that road goes."
My aim was to bring her mind back to its accustomed channel for the present. She brightened at my query.
"T' 'Ebron," she said.
"Oh! Yes! Some day soon I'm going there. I have a garden at home and I'm going there to buy seed."
She laughed at this, and I felt relieved.
"Good-by, Dryad."
I knelt on the tree, bent down and took her upheld hand in mine. It was warm, soft, and, that moment, clinging. Forerunners of dusk had come, and the gray pools of her clear eyes made me release her hand and get on my feet.