Then all the people pushed into the back room and when they saw the sleeping child, two women fainted, just where they stood. The others were so much astounded that not one of them could speak a word. Then the dryad, who, so far, had not been noticed, laughed out merrily. It was all so funny that she could not help it.
At this the people turned and stared at her. There were some among them who had seen dryads and they set up a great shout.
“A dryad!” they cried, “a wicked spirit, a tree witch! She has done this! She has been about with her sinful kisses.”
With one accord the villagers dashed at the dryad as if they would pound her into pieces and trample them upon the floor.
But the dryad was in the door way, between the two rooms, and she moved so quickly that they could not touch her. Had she felt free to do as she pleased, she might have rushed in among them and, in a very few minutes, have made a kindergarten of the whole company, but she had promised her dear friend, the girl, that, without her permission, she would never kiss anybody, and she could not break her word. So she fled through the open door and away, and away, and away, until she was far from the village.
It was not long before the dryad came to the great oak which was old and whose trunk was cracked.
“Ah!” she cried, “here is this tree which I would not enter, but I shall not despise it again. It will shelter me, for a time, and I must no longer remain out in this cruel world.”
So she slipped into the oak, and was so glad to feel herself safe that she kissed the inside of the tree, over and over again, telling it how thankful she was to have its protection, and to feel again as if she was at home.
It was not long before the aged oak was a hundred years younger; strong, vigorous, clad in the brightest green and able to withstand the fiercest storm.