Then the Water-midden lifted both her hands, and scattered back her long pale locks over her narrow shoulders. "The Wonderstone? What, then, is that?"
Nod told her, though he felt angry with himself, all about the Wonderstone, and what magic it had wrought.
"O most marvellous Mulla-mulgar," she said, "I think, if I could see but once this Wonderstone—I think I should be never sad again."
Nod turned away, glancing over his shoulder to where, leaning amid the stars, hung the distant darkness of Mulgarmeerez. He slowly unfastened his ivory-buttoned pocket and groped for the Wonderstone. Holding it tight in his bare brown palm, he scrambled down a little nearer to the water, and unlatched his fingers to show it to the Midden. But now, to his astonishment, instead of glooming pale as a little moon, it burned angry as Antares.
The Water-midden peeped out between her hair, and laughed and clapped her hands. "Oh, but if I might but hold it in my hand one moment, I think that I should never even sigh again!" said she. Nod's fingers closed on the Wonderstone again.
"I may not," he said.
"Then," said the Water-midden sorrowfully, "I will not ask."
"My mother told me," said Nod.
But the Water-midden seemed not now to be listening. She began to smooth and sleek her hair, sprinkling the ice-cold water upon it, so that the drops ran glittering down those slippery paths like dew.
"Midden, Midden," said Nod quickly, "I did not mean to say any unkindness. You would give me back my Wonderstone very quickly?"