On the way Master gathered wild flowers and adorned the children with gay colors of the forest floor. They found their canoe at the landing, and got aboard and pushed across the still water. The sky had never seemed to him so beautiful and silent. From far up the mountain he could hear the twittering of a bird—no other sound. The margin of the pond was white with lilies in full bloom. Their perfume drifted in slow currents of air. His canoe moved in harmony with the silence. He could hear the bursting of tiny bubbles beneath his bow and around his paddle.
Soon they came in sight of Birch Cove. There stood the moss-covered rock at the edge of the pond, but no maiden. Master felt a pang of disappointment. A fear grew in his heart. Would she not come again? Was it all a pleasant dream, and was there no such wonderful creature among the children of men?
He shoved his bow on the little sand beach and helped the children ashore.
In a moment they heard the voice of the crow laughing as if unable longer to control himself.
"I'm going to find her," said Socky, as he ran up the deer-trail followed by Sue.
In a moment they gave a cry of delight. Edith Dunmore had stepped from behind a thicket, and, stooping, had put her arms around the children and was kissing them. The cunning crow walked hither and thither and picked at the dead leaves and chattered like a child at play.
"Oh, it has been such a long time!" said "the beautiful lady," looking fondly into the faces of. the little folk. "Where is he?"
"Over there," said Socky, pointing in the direction of the canoe. "I'll go and tell him."
"No," the maiden whispered, holding the boy closer.
"He wants to see you," said the boy,