Just then she saw something that sent a pang through her.
“Oh,” she cried, “look! A star has fallen! It’s straying about and can’t find its way back to its place in the sky.”
“That’s a firefly,” said the flower-sprite, without a smile.
Now, in the midst of her amazement, Maya realized for the first time why the sprite seemed so dear and kind. He never laughed at her ignorance; on the contrary, he helped her when she went wrong.
“They are odd little creatures,” the sprite continued. “They carry their own light about with them on warm summer nights and enliven the dark under the shrubbery where the moonlight doesn’t shine through. So firefly can keep tryst with firefly even in the dark. Later, when we come to the human beings, you will make the acquaintance of one of them.”
“Why?” asked Maya.
“You’ll soon see.”
By this time they had reached an arbor completely overgrown with jasmine and woodbine. They descended almost to the ground. From close by, within the arbor, came the sound of faint whispering. The flower-sprite beckoned to a firefly.
“Would you be good enough,” he asked, “to give us a little light? We have to push through these dark leaves here; we want to get to the inside of the jasmine-arbor.”
“But your glow is much brighter than mine.”