“Yes, I can be married,” said the other, “but not immediately, and in the meantime I must support this little child and myself. I have no money and how am I going to do that?”
“Oh, I wish I could help you,” cried the dryad. “Could not I live here until you are married? I really ought to do something for you, and I will never kiss you or the child.”
“But how could you help me?” said the girl, smiling.
“I don’t know,” said the dryad, reflecting, “perhaps there are some people in the village who would like to be younger.”
“Yes,” said the girl, “that might do. We could live here together and setup a kisserie. It will be very pleasant for me to have everything my own way and not to be scolded, and I shall take the best possible care of the child. I know there are people who would like to be kissed, but you will have to be very, very careful not to make mistakes.”
“Oh, I will do that!” cried the dryad. “I promise you, that, from this moment, I will never kiss anybody, old or young, unless you tell me to.”
At this moment, there was a sound of hurrying feet outside. The door was thrown open and an excited group of men and women rushed into the room.
“A dreadful thing has happened,” cried one of the women; “the constable, Johann Milder, has disappeared. He left his clothes behind him. Stranger yet, there is a little boy at his house who says he lives there, and who he is and where he came from nobody knows. We have come to see your step-mother; she is a wise woman and perhaps she may help us. Where is she? Call her quickly!”
“She is here,” said the girl, and stepping to the bed, she turned down the covering.