She gathered them one by one, tying her handkerchief into four knots at the corners for a basket; and so absorbed was she that she had quite forgotten the weird shadows and the strange noises in the wood, until she was startled by a voice close beside her.
Her heart gave a sudden bound, as if it were going to jump away from her without so much as saying by your leave, and turning quickly, she saw, not the old woman—although the voice had sounded curiously like hers—but a quaint pale-faced little man, with small faded-looking blue eyes that blinked in the moonlight as if the brightest of June-day suns had been shining upon him.
"SO YOU ARE FOND OF GEMS, MY LITTLE MAIDEN?"
"So you are fond of gems, my little maiden?" said the small man, in a small thin voice, winking and blinking good-naturedly as he spoke.
The child stood staring at her companion, too much astonished to answer him a word, for she, nor you, nor I, I believe, had ever seen such a curious being before. He was so small that she could have tucked him under her arm and run away with him, but his pale blue eyes had a strange light in them, like nothing seen above the ground, and she might have gone on staring at him from that day to this if her handkerchief had not slipped from her fingers, letting her stones roll here and there over the ground, whereupon she uttered a low cry of disappointment.
"Oh, never mind those," said the little man, smiling; "they are nothing but garnets. Just come with me, and I will show you stones a thousand times more beautiful."
"So you live in the country where gems grow instead of flowers?" said the child, recovering her voice and her self-possession at the same time.
"Yes," he answered; "I am the keeper of the gate, and if you will come with me, I will show you more beautiful things than any you ever dreamed of."
This invitation was just what the child wanted, and she followed the gate-keeper without another word.