But just then, a little way off, they caught sight of old Adam coming to meet them. His cottage was close by; they came upon it suddenly, for it stood half-hidden under the shelter of the hill they had been descending. Such a lovely cottage it was—so simple, yet so pretty; quite clean, with a cleanness you never see out of fairyland or places of that kind, with flowers of all kinds, forget-me-nots above all, clustering about it and peeping in at the windows.
Adam welcomed his little guests as kindly as if no unkind thought of him had ever entered Ruby’s head; he made no difference between her and Mavis, and I think this caused Ruby to feel more sorry than anything could have done.
If they had been happy that afternoon in the cottage by the sea, you can fancy how happy they were in this wonderful new fairy home of the good old man’s. There was no end to the things he had to show them and teach them, mostly, I think, about flowers; things they had never dreamt of, beauties of form and colour such as it would be impossible for me to describe. And each time they came to see him he promised to show and teach them still more. But at last Winfried said they must be going.
“I promised the princess,” he said, for now he spoke of her quite openly to the children, “that I would take you home by the time the sun sets beside the castle, and it must be near that now.”
“And how are we to go home?” asked Ruby.
“The boat is ready,” Winfried answered.
“But where’s the sea for it to sail on?” whispered Ruby to Mavis. She had not the courage to ask Winfried anymore.
“Wait and see,” said Mavis. “I don’t know, but it is sure to be all right.”
Then they bade Adam farewell, promising to come to visit him again whenever they should be allowed to do so—and rather wondering where Winfried was going to take them, they set off.
There was some reason for Ruby’s question, for so far they had seen no water at all in Forget-me-not Land. Everything seemed fresh and fragrant, as if there was no dearth of moisture, but there was neither lake, nor pond, nor running brook. Winfried mounted the hill a little way, then turning sharply, they found themselves in a sort of small wooded ravine or glen. Steps led down the steep sides to the bottom, which was a perfect thicket of ferns, mostly of the deep green delicate kind, which loves darkness and water.