Aaron shook his head.
“I reckon those that have got to work don’t get no time for dancing.”
“I think I like the piskies the best,” said Loveday thoughtfully; “but, of course, I love them all!” she added hastily, in a louder voice, for she did not want to hurt any one’s feelings, and fairies were very easily offended, she had heard. “Of course, I love them all; but I do love the piskies very much, ’cause they work and play too; they come and do people’s work for them and look after them, and then they dance, and are such jolly little things.”
“They take care of my daddy,” said Aaron gravely. “Sometimes he’s got to be out to sea all night, fishing, and it is dark, and the wind blowing, and the rain coming down like anything.”
“My daddy has got to be out all night too, very often,” chimed in Loveday, not to be outdone in importance by Aaron, “and he’s got to drive all through the thunder and lightning and snow, and sometimes it is so slippery Betty can’t hardly walk, but daddy’s got to go ’cause somebody is ill.”
“But he doesn’t have to go on the sea,” said Aaron, “and p’r’aps be drowned.”
“He has to drive, and horses tumble down, and run away, and wheels come off and all sorts of things,” said Loveday, not to be outdone.
“But there are sharks and whales and—and torpedoes at sea,” went on Aaron; but Loveday pretended not to hear him; and suddenly it occurred to him that, if he aggravated her too much, she might begin to call him “Adolphus” again; so he hurriedly changed the conversation.
“I wish I could see some piskies at work—don’t you?” said Aaron.
“Oh yes!” sighed Loveday. “Do you think we could if we stayed up till twelve o’clock one night?”