“It’s so puzzling,” said Rafe, hesitating a little. “I don’t think it puzzles Alix so much as me; she knows more about fairy things, I think. I do so want to know if you’ve lived here a very long time. Have you always lived here—even when the old house was standing and there were people in it?”
“Never mind about always,” replied the old woman. “A very, very long time? Yes, longer than you could understand, even if I explained it! Long before the old house was pulled down? Yes, indeed, long before the old house was ever thought of! I’m the caretaker here nowadays, you see.”
“The caretaker!” Rafe repeated; “but there’s no house to take care of.”
“There’s a great deal to take care of nevertheless,” she replied. “Think of all the creatures up in the garden, the birds and the butterflies, not to speak of the flowers and the blossom. Ah, yes! we caretakers have a busy time of it, I can tell you, little as you might think it. And the stories—why, if I had nothing else to do, the looking after them would keep me busy. They take a deal of tidying. You’d scarcely believe the state they come home in sometimes when they’ve been out for a ramble—all torn and jagged and draggle-tailed, or else, what’s worse, dressed up in such vulgar new clothes that their own mother, and I’m as good as their mother, would scarcely know them again. No, no,” and she shook her head, “I’ve no patience with such ways.”
Alix looked delighted. She quite understood the old woman.
“How nicely you say it,” she exclaimed. “It’s like something papa told us the other day about legends; don’t you remember, Rafe?”
Rafe’s slower wits were still rather perplexed, but he took things comfortably. Somehow he no longer remembered any more questions to ask. The old woman’s bright eyes as she looked at him gave him a pleasant, contented feeling.
“Have you got a story quite ready for us?” asked Alix.
“One, two, three, four,” said the old woman, counting her stitches. “I’m setting it on, my dear; it’ll be ready directly. But what have you got in your basket? It’s your dinner, isn’t it? You must be getting hungry. Wouldn’t you like to eat something while the story’s getting ready?”
“Are you going to knit the story?” said Alix, looking very surprised.