‘What do you mean, Miss?’
‘The little imps who live in the mines and on the moors, and play mischievous tricks on mortals. They have the nature of spirits, and yet they have human shapes, and are like old men or boys. They watch treasures and veins of ore, and when mortals approach the metal, they decoy the trespassers away.’
‘Like the lapwing that pretends to be wounded, and so lures you from its precious eggs. Do you believe in pixies?’
Eve laughed and shook her pretty head. ‘I think so, Mr. Jasper, for I have seen one.’
‘What was he like?’
‘I do not know, I only caught glimpses of him. Do not laugh satirically. I am serious. I did see something, but I don’t know exactly what I saw.’
‘That is not a very convincing reason for the existence of pixies.’
Eve drew her little feet together, and folded her arms in her lap, and smiled, and tossed her head. She had taken off her hat, and the sun glorified her shining head.
Jasper looked admiringly at her.
‘Are you not afraid of a sunstroke, Miss Eve?’