“Why?”
“Because I'm silly. I'm never frightened at things.”
I could not help thinking of the old meaning of the word silly.
“And what was it?” I asked.
“I think it was a kind of an angel—a very little one. It had a long body and great wings, which it drove about it so fast that they grew a thin cloud all round it. It flew backwards and forwards over the well, or hung right in the middle, making a mist of its wings, as if its business was to take care of the water.”
“And what did you do to drive it away?”
“I didn't drive it away. I knew, whatever the creature was, the well was to get water out of. So I took the jug, dipped it in, and drew the water.”
“And what did the creature do?”
“Flew about.”
“And it didn't hurt you?”