“Of course—but what fairy?”
Ruth gave a delighted shriek. “Why, OUR Fairy, of course. Oh, I wonder if it looks like her.”
There came a tiny chuckle from somewhere near.
“So that’s what you think I look like,” remarked a chatty dewdrop-falling sort of voice.
Rose and Ruth whirled round and round like a couple of well spun tops. But nothing could they see except what was always to be seen, and in their excitement they didn’t even see that.
“Look, here I am, right beside my portrait,” laughed the voice.
Well, you can be sure they stared hard enough. Ruth thought she saw a slight glow, more like a light that was thinking of shining than one that had really begun its work. If you can imagine the shadow of a light, that is as like it as anything.
“HUSH, LORNA. NO ONE SHALL HURT THEM. BUT THEY MUST GO FROM HERE AT ONCE. TWO OF MY BOYS ARE SADDLING NOW!”
“No, that’s not a very good picture of me,” the fairy said, evidently giving up the hope of making herself truly visible. “I’m not a fair fairy, not at all. That may account for the difficulty you have in seeing me. I’m the brunette of the family—and my edges are a trifle indeterminate—I never could see any reason for having an edge all round you. But never mind about me. What are we going to do, now I’m here? Shall we throw open that Magic Gate for another little adventure?”