So the dryad took her by the hand and they walked gaily into the beech-tree door, and the door shut behind them.
They went down and down a lot of winding stairs that were lighted only by small windows in the bark of the tree that Nora had never noticed before and could never find afterward. It [page 534] was very cool and pleasant, for they could hear the sap go singing on its way from the roots up to the branches and leaves and when a summer shower went by they could hear the raindrops as they went singing down the trunk outside to the roots. After they had reached the foot of the stairs they walked for a long way through a cool corridor. It was not quite dark, for Little People stood at every turn who seemed to be doing what fireflies do on summer nights in the grass, and each one whistling to himself as he held his softly shaded lantern aloft. Down the side passages Nora could see thousands of tiny miners at work. And what do you think they are doing?
"Digging for gold and diamonds."
They were tending the woodland plants that hang their golden blossoms in the pathways and carrying up the dewdrops that sparkle like diamonds from their leaves in the daybreak. And it was pleasant to see them work, for they were all singing.
By and by Nora and the dryad came to a place where there was a brighter light ahead, and as they drew nearer Nora could see that they had come to the bank of the pond that is below Nora's cottage, only that they were under the surface, looking up through a light so soft that it cast no shadows. And now the dryad took Nora's hand and she found herself in a little boat, no bigger than a leaf, sailing across the pond but still beneath its surface. And here she saw on every hand, working amid the mire and the mirk, such jolly little divers, who were feeding the fish and tending the pond lily roots, and, like all the others, singing at their tasks.
Now you will know of course that they were on their way to the home of the fairy queen. And it was but a short while before they were there. I need not tell you, children, how lovely is her palace, with its golden floor and silver walls and its hangings of the colors of the rainbow. Nor need I say how beautiful is her majesty herself, with wings like the most splendid butterfly and a gown like the morning and a face like the sunshine.
It seems that Nora had come upon the queen's birthday, and she was just giving the birthday honors. So Nora and [page 535] the dryad stood in the background and watched the scene. Around the throne stood gallant fairy gentlemen clad like beetles and dragon flies for splendor and ladies whose long gowns hung like the light on the waterfall of Loughmareen. But to the amazement of Nora, those who came forward to receive the honors were for the most part dressed like workmen and many of them were bent with hard labor. As each advanced and made obeisance, the royal herald read the exploit for which the rank of knighthood was about to be conferred. For one he read: "To our faithful servant who covered the lilies of Moira from the attack of the Frost King"; and to another: "To the gallant yeoman who watered the grain field of Kilvellin"; and to still another: "To him who dug the trench by the roadside and kept safe the highway to Throselwait Fair." And as each came forward the trumpets pealed in triumph, and after a gold star had been pinned upon the new knight's breast the gentlemen and ladies of the court greeted them with hearty reverence. And Nora looked in the smiling face of the dryad, but said nothing.
Then Nora herself, in a breathless moment of fear, was presented to the queen, and the queen kissed her daintily just above her lips on both sides. And suddenly Nora found herself back on her stony bench by the spring with the branches of the beech-tree waving silently before her.
"Oh, mothereen and grandmotherkin," she cried as soon as she got home, and she ran home all the way—"let me tell you about the wonderful visit I have been making out in the wildwood." And after she had told her story, mothereen said, "I think Nora has been dreaming," but grandmotherkin said, "No, daughter, I think our little acushla has had her eyes opened the day." Then Nora in triumph showed the two dimples where the fairy queen had kissed her. And do you know, my darlings, I cannot but think that she told the truth after all, for ever after, if one kissed Nora upon those two dimples or even touched them or even looked at them, she would break into the sweetest smile, and she never was gloomerin' or lowerin' any more.
[*] First published in John Martin's Book. Reprinted by special permission.