"Ho—e—oh! Cumulus! Nimbus! Can't you hear?"
The bustling Elf had no cause to be impatient, for she had scarcely spoken ere four forms slowly rose in the shadows of the inner cave, and began to move deliberately toward the light. The first advanced with airy footstep, shaking about her face a cloud of long curling locks, almost white. She was dressed in a white robe, covered with trellis-work patterns, inwrought with thin silvery streaks. This was Elf Cirrus.
The second sister was a plump, sober-looking Elf, whose hair was gathered in woolly puffs upon her round head, and was a curious mixture of white and black. Her robe was covered with figures of cones, hemispheres and white-topped mountains, which figures were touched here and there with many bright colors. This was Cumulus.
Elf Stratus wore a grayish robe flounced with bands of divers colors, many of them edged with bright silver and golden fringe like the rays of the setting sun. Her dark hair was worn smooth, and was crossed by a band of purple ribbons that girdled the crown.
Nimbus, the last of the four sisters, was a gloomy-looking dame, with a kind look in her eyes nevertheless, and a great purse in her hand, through the meshes of which yellow pieces of gold were seen. She was dressed in black, had a gray cloak with fringed edges thrown over her shoulders, and a dainty lace cap upon her head.
"Oho! here you are, then!" cried Madam Breeze as the Elves came forward. They all bowed as she spoke, and stood quite still when she ceased. Indeed, the sisters seemed to be curiously affected by Madam Breeze's voice; for all the while that she was speaking they gently swayed their bodies, and moved back and forth through the cave.
"Come now," said Madam Breeze, "you must be quite good-natured, you know. I have a very, very important duty for you. I want to serve my good friends the Brownies—wheeze! Here, Ensign, let me present you. These are the Cloud Elves." Lawe bowed gravely, and the sisters each made that graceful and dignified courtesy which our grandmothers were taught to be the proper thing on such occasions.
"This is what I want," continued Madam Breeze; "to-morrow morning—wheeze!—do you hear me? To-morrow morning I want to have quite clear. Keep the Gate of the Sun wide open—hoogh! Wide, I say; for we have some good work for my Lord Sol to do over there at Hillside. Stratus, do you hear, lass?—wheeze! I'm most afraid of you. You're such a regular night owl, and affect the manners of—hoogh!—of those silly humans who wake all night and go to bed at sunrise. But, mark what I say—wheeze!—you must stay at home this night. Not a flounce, not a frill, not a—hoogh!—not a—wheeze!—nothing—(confusion seize this cough!)—of all your fine toggery must be spread between the sun and the gate to-morrow morn. Do you all understand?"
Madam Breeze puffed, and bounded about in a nervous way, mightily stirred up by the necessity for making such a long speech. The sisters bowed several times, and at last Nimbus, who seemed to speak for the others, answered in a deep voice that rolled through the cave and sounded like low distant thunder: "We will keep the gate open, good Mistress Breeze. You know we are always ready to oblige you. Your pleasure shall be our law."
"Good—good! Many thanks. Don't forget. If you do—bless your hearts!—I'll blow up Brother Tempest and have him tear your fine robes into tatters. Good-bye. Come, Ensign, let us away—wheeze!" Once more squeezing herself into scant space, she got into the chariot.