"It would be exactly contrary to the Wizard's," and the Fairy looked serious.
"Thanks very much," interrupted Cyril; "but we do want to seek our fortunes—to go on our adventures. It's a grand thing to do," he explained, "specially for her—she's a girl. Besides, we can't cross the Brook as children."
"Don't use those catseyes and it might be possible; that is, if you are willing. Be warned! Let me carry you quickly to the other side and then run home," said the Bird-Fairy anxiously.
Cyril shook his head, so Dulcie shook hers.
"It's always 'don't,'" he muttered. "It's sure to be all right, Dulcie," he said turning to her.
"Are you sure?" she inquired vaguely, with a lingering glance at the Fairy, who had turned away sadly.
"It must be if we keep that last change as we arranged."
From the trees now issued forth sweet wood-birds of many kinds—the air was thick with them; they circled three times round the fairy ring and then all flew away, and the children were once more alone.
"Wasn't that beautiful? Ah!" sighed Dulcie, looking after them, "I wish I could be one of them and sing like them."
Hardly were the words out of her mouth when Cyril began to stare about in amazement. His sister was nowhere to be seen. Her disappearance was so rapid that the earth might have swallowed her up.