The change of scene was complete. It was a garden, but a very queer one. Instead of lawns of grass, there were wide spaces covered with fine glittering sand of different shades of green; the paths between were brown, and stooping closer to examine them the children found that they consisted of very small round pebbles, something like toffee drops, so smooth and yet elastic that they did not hurt the feet at all. But the flower-beds were the oddest of all. They were filled with plants and flowers of the strangest shapes and colours you can—or rather 'cannot'—imagine. And when Leonore put out her hand to touch one, she started in surprise; they were made of fine metal.
So far, they had seen no one, but just as they were beginning to wonder which way they should go, and if they were to meet no more of the inhabitants of gnomeland, they saw toddling towards them the very queerest little figure they had ever seen out of a picture-book! It was that of a very very old gnome—'the great-grandfather of all the gnomes surely,' whispered Hildegarde to Leonore. And it was with difficulty they restrained their laughter.
Nor was it easier to do so when the little man came closer to them. He was so very comical-looking. But mindful of the fairy's advice, both children kept perfectly grave and greeted the newcomer with a low courtesy.
'Well,' was all he said, and then stood wrinkling up his face, though you would have thought he could not screw it any higher than it was, and blinking up at them with his funny little eyes. Somehow they did not feel much in awe of him after all.
'Well?' he said again, this time in a more questioning tone of voice.
'If you please,' Hildegarde replied. 'May we walk through your—garden?' She could not help hesitating a little at the last word, for somehow the more she looked at the queer place they were in, the less like a garden it seemed. 'We won't pick any of the flowers.'
'You couldn't if you tried,' said the old gnome.
'Why not?' asked Hildegarde. 'I don't see any gardeners about.'
'They are all at their supper,' he replied.
'Supper,' replied Hildegarde. 'How early they must have it.'