A hand was laid for a moment on Squib’s head in a touch that felt in some way like a blessing. Then Herr Adler said,—
“So you know my little friend Seppi, do you? I was on my way to find him when I fell in with another little boy friend.”
Squib looked up brightly.
“I should like to be your friend. I didn’t know little boys could count as friends with grown-up people. Seppi and I are great friends. I go and see him almost every day. He draws all sorts of things. He is very clever, and he teaches me to carve animals and things for the children at home. Will you come and see him now? He will be so pleased!”
“Yes, I should like to go if you will take me. And you shall show me your carving and Seppi’s drawings. But you must tell me your name if we are to be friends, for I am not such a clever guesser as you.”
“Oh, as for that, they just call me Squib at home.”
“Squib! Why, isn’t that a sort of firework? Now, didn’t I say you were a sprite? I suppose when you get tired of being here you just set yourself alight and go fizzling back into elf-land.”
Squib laughed delightedly.
“I wish I could! It would be jolly to go fizzling through the air and get somewhere you don’t know how! I should like that awfully! But you see I can’t. People can’t do that, can they?”
“I only heard of one man who did it and lived to tell the tale. It was at that wonderful siege of Antwerp, of which you will read when you grow up, when the citizens tried to blow up the bridge the Spaniards had thrown across the mouth of the Scheldt. In that terrific explosion there was one man lifted up off his feet, and taken right across that wide river and set down on the opposite side without being hurt, and he told his friend afterwards that all the while he believed himself a sky-rocket going off, and felt no fear, having no time or breath to think of anything as he was hurled through the air. Many people have been blown into the air, but very few have lived to say what it feels like afterwards.”