The stream could not speak because there was no stone to splash against, but it sparkled in the sunshine (as Bevis had pushed the bough aside), and looked so pleasant that he followed it a little way, and then he came to an open place with twisted old oaks, gnarled and knotted, where a blue butterfly was playing.
"Show me the way out, you beautiful creature," said Bevis.
"So I will, Bevis dear," said the butterfly. "I have just come from your waggon, and your papa and the bailiff have been calling to you, and I think they will soon be coming back to look for you. Follow me, my darling."
So Bevis followed the little blue butterfly, who danced along as straight as it was possible for him to go, for he, like Bevis, did not like too much straightness. Now the oak knew the butterfly was there, and that was why he dropped his leaf; and so did the nut-tree bough, and that was why he drooped and let the sun sparkle on the water, and the stream smiled to make Bevis follow him to where the butterfly was playing. Without pausing anywhere, but just zig-zagging on, the blue butterfly floated before Bevis, who danced after him, the nuts falling from his crammed pockets; knocking every oak as he went with his stick, asking them if they knew anything, or had anything to tell the people in the copse near his house. The oaks were bursting with things to tell him, and messages to send, but they could not speak, as there was no breeze in the hollow. He whipped the bramble bushes with his crook, but they did not mind in the least, they were so glad to see him.
He whistled to the butterfly to stop a moment while he picked a blackberry; the butterfly settled on a leaf. Then away they went again together till they left the wood behind and began to go up the hill. There the butterfly grew restless, and could scarce restrain his pace for Bevis to keep up, as they were now in the sunshine. Bevis raced after as fast as he could go uphill, but at the top the butterfly thought he saw a friend of his, and telling Bevis that somebody would come to him in a minute, away he flew. Bevis looked round, but it was all strange and new to him; there were hills all round, but there was no waggon, and no old trench or rampart; nothing but the blue sky and the great sun, which did not seem far off.
While he wondered which way to go, the wind came along the ridge, and taking him softly by the ear pushed him gently forward and said: "Bevis, my love, I have been waiting for you ever so long; why did you not come before?"
"Because you never asked me," said Bevis.
"Oh yes, I did; I asked you twenty times in the copse. I beckoned to you out of the great oak, under which you went to sleep; and I whispered to you from the fir-trees where the squirrel played, but you were so busy, dear, so busy with Kapchack, and the war, and Choo Hoo, and the court, and all the turmoil, that you did not hear me."
"You should have called louder," said Bevis.
"So I did," said the wind. "Don't you remember I whirled the little bough against your window, and rattled the casement that night you saw the owl go by?"