“Hush! we have been watched—listened to!” for although I had said nothing about it to Martin, I had, several times, while we had been conversing, heard a rustling in the shrubbery, just outside the glass door of our room. Hitherto, I had taken but little notice, but now I distinctly heard a cough.
“Come along, then, and let us unearth the sly fox,” whispered Martin; and the next minute we were standing by a shrubbery near the window. Having listened patiently for some time, and heard nothing but the humming of birds and insects, Martin whispered:
“It was fancy only.”
“Then it was a very pretty fancy, too, for there it is,” I replied, as at that moment I detected the eye of the listener who had alarmed us, sparkling through the leaves and branches; and the next instant I had gently dragged forth one of the prettiest little girls I had ever seen—tall and graceful in figure, with long, flowing, golden locks; a fair complexion, tinted with red, but just then mounting with crimson blushes; fine blue eyes, and dimpled cheeks—indeed, a little fairy—yes, a fairy, although she was attired in deep mourning.
“Oh! don’t; you hurt my arm!” she exclaimed, half pettishly, half smiling, as she struggled to escape from my grasp.
“We won’t let you go; we don’t often catch real live fairies,” said Martin. “Besides, you have half killed us with fright.”
“For shame,” she replied, “for two great boys to be frightened by a little girl like me.”
“You know a mouse may frighten an elephant, if the elephant hears a strange noise and doesn’t know that it is caused by a mouse.”
“Well, then,” she replied, “I am sorry I have frightened you both; but I am sure I could not help it; it was that nasty cough.”
“But how came you to be hiding in the shrubs? Was it to listen to what we were talking about? for certainly you must have heard all we said.”