“Go away, butterfly!” cried the Elf, in his shrill voice. “Come up, child! Go away, butterfly! Come up, child!”
The minute he had said this, Nibby cried out, “My stars, brother, here’s a go!” And there, on Nibby’s shoulder, in place of the butterfly, sat Merrimeg herself, with her feet dangling to the ground.
“Let me go!” screamed the Apple-Seed Elf, and Sappy the Owl gave him a kick with his foot and sent him off scampering through the grass.
“I believe she’s here, brother,” said Malkin.
“I’m sure of it, brother, I’m sure of it,” said Nibby, as Merrimeg slipped from his shoulder and stood on her feet.
“Take me home!” said Merrimeg. “Take me home quick! Don’t stand there all day, I want to go home!”
“Not very polite to-day, brother Nibby,” said Malkin.
“Not very, indeed,” said Nibby.
“Excuse me,” said Merrimeg, “but my mother’s been calling me, and I mustn’t keep her waiting.”
“Well,” said the little old Painter of Butterflies, “I guess I’d better get back to my work.”