'Yes, indeed,' Leonore agreed. 'I shall always pick up horse-shoes when I see them now. And if you please, Mr. Gnome——'
But her sentence was never finished, for just as she had got so far, their guide suddenly clapped his hands. There came a rush of cold air in the children's faces, so sharply, that without knowing it, they both shut their eyes. And when they opened them again, the big chamber and the busy workers had disappeared—they found themselves—still in the under-world, but in quite a different part of it.
Here the light was no longer red, but a pale pretty green—a green which did not make things or people look pale and sickly, but only cast a soft radiance, such as one sees in the woods in the early spring. And to add to this impression there was a faint sound of running or trickling water near at hand.
Hildegarde and Leonore rubbed their eyes and looked at each other; they almost felt as if they were dreaming.
'Where have we got to?' said Leonore; but as she looked about her a little she saw that they were still surrounded by the high rocks which seemed to be the walls and boundaries of the under-world.
'And how did we get here?' added Hildegarde laughing. 'It felt as if we were blown here.'
'And so you were,' said a voice beside them, and turning, they caught sight of their old friend the gnome again. 'There was no object in tiring you with walking all through our domains—what brought you was one of our little inventions—the simplest in the world—for those who understand such things,' he added with condescension.
'And if you please where are we, and what are you going to show us now?' they inquired.
'You are at the entrance to our gardens, where I am going to show you our flower designs. You have doubtless never been told how many of your upper-world plants and flowers owe their existence to us.'
'Really!' exclaimed Hildegarde; and then, as a sudden thought struck her, 'oh, I wonder,' she cried, 'if those very, very queer flowers that we see in hot-houses and sometimes in gardens too—what do they call them—or—or—? I wonder if they are invented by your gardeners.'