The mystery of the woods seemed to quicken that other mysterious self-consciousness that had been stirred by the child, Lynette. They were in tune, strung to vibrate to the same subtle, and plaintive notes. As they walked, their intimate selves kept touching involuntarily and starting apart, innocent of foreseeing how rich a thrill would come from the contact. Their eyes questioned each other behind a veil of incredulity and wonder.
“You will write to Lynette?”
“Oh, yes!”
There was a naive and half plaintive uplift of her voice towards the “yes.”
“Little Beech Leaf is a warm-hearted fairy. Do you know, I am very glad of this comradeship, for her sake.”
“You make me feel very humble.”
“No. You are just the kind of elder sister that she needs.”
He had almost said mother, and the word mother was in Eve’s heart.
“Do you realise that I am learning from Lynette?”
“I don’t doubt it. One ought to learn deep things from a child.”