"I didn't mean to steal it, Poppie. I only saw it shining, and wanted to know what it was. Suppose I push it a little further in, that the sun mayn't be able to see it?"
Poppie thought this was fun, and showed her white teeth.
"But it was you I was looking for—not in that hole, you know," added Lucy, laughing.
"I think I could get into it, if I was to put my clothes off," said Poppie.
Lucy thought it would be a tight fit indeed, if her clothes made any difference.
"Will you come with me?" she said. "I want you."
"Yes, lady," answered Poppie, looking, though, as if she would bolt in a moment.
"Come, then," said Lucy, approaching her where she stood still in the doorway.
But before she reached her, Poppie scudded, and was at the bottom of the stair before Lucy recovered from the surprise of her sudden flight. She saw at once that it would not do to make persistent advances, or show the least desire to get a hold of her.
When she got to the last landing-place on the way down, there was Poppie's face waiting for her in the door below. Careful as one who fears to startle a half-tamed creature with wings, Lucy again approached her; but she vanished again, and she saw no more of her till she was at the mouth of the court. There was Poppie once more, to vanish yet again. In some unaccountable way she seemed to divine where Lucy was going, and with endless evanishments still reappeared in front of her, till she reached the railway station. And there was no Poppie.