"Very like yours and his, I expect; when you grow older, young woman, you'll find there's really only one dream possible for a sensible person. But you don't want to hear about my troubles. This is more in your line!" He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a flageolet, which he put to his lips.
"Listen!" he said.
To the girl it seemed as though the little tune had leapt from the pipe, and was dancing round the ring like a real fairy, while echo came tripping through the trees to join it. The boy gaped and said nothing.
At last, when the fairy was beginning to falter and echo was quite out of breath, the man took the flageolet from his lips.
"Well," he said, with a smile.
"Thank you very much," said the girl politely. "I think that was very nice indeed. Oh, boy!" she broke off, "you're hurting my hand!"
The boy's eyes were shining strangely, and he was waving his arms in dismay.
"All the wasted moonlight!" he cried; "the grass is quite wet with it."
The girl turned to him in surprise.
"Why, boy, you've found your voice."