They stood facing each other on the gra.s.s, and Little Boy Blue began the following song:

"Oh, Little Bo-Peep, when the sun is shining And the birds are up in the tree; When there's never a cause for sad repining, And we're happy as we can be; When breezes blow through the vale and hollow, And glade and garden and glen, Oh, whom does your heart in its rapture follow, And whom do you think of then?"

Little Bo-Peep listened, smiling, and with her head a little to one side, until the stanza was finished, and then she replied as follows:

"Oh, Little Boy Blue, when the skies are beaming And my heart is happy and free, When the green gra.s.s smiles, where it lies a-dreaming, And the birds are up in the tree, I lift my eyes to the arch above us, So soft and tender and blue, And I know that the earth and the sky both love us, And I tenderly think of you, Of you, Of you, of you, of you!"

Then they both bowed graciously and began their dance. They advanced toward each other so that the palms of their right hands touched; and then they receded, moving obliquely; and then advanced again, touching the palms of their left hands. A moment later they had clasped both hands, holding them high, and were hopping about in a circle.

But it seemed that the song was not yet finished; and presently they were facing each other again, and Little Bo-Peep sang the following stanza:

"Oh, Little Boy Blue, when the star of even Hangs low o'er the lonely hill, When the night-wind sighs through the fields of heaven And the world is lonely and still; When you almost fear that the birds and flowers Will never waken again, And you lie and dream through the long night hours, Oh, whom do you dream of then?"

No sooner had Little Bo-Peep completed her stanza than Little Boy Blue responded:

"Oh, Little Bo-Peep, from my friendly pillow I gaze at the even star; Then I sail away on a gentle billow, Where dreaming and visions are.

And never a doubt nor a fear a.s.sails me The whole of the long night through, And the welcomest dream of all ne'er fails me, For I constantly dream of you, Of you, Of you, of you, of you!"

They repeated their dance at the end, and then, blushing and stumbling, they made their way to one of the stone benches and sat down.

All the children applauded generously; but during the silence which followed, Grettel remarked:

"For my part, I like games that have kissing in them."

Cinderella merely gazed at her, in reply to this, with lifted chin and half-closed eyes.

Then Hansel observed: "If you'd leave it to me, I'd prefer sitting at a table where there'd be something left after you'd filled yourself as full as a drum."

Prince Arthur seemed to feel that Hansel and Grettel had struck a wrong note, and he said, "Upon my word, it seemed to me that the singing and dancing weren't half bad!"

"They were just perfect," declared Everychild.

"That's really what Arthur meant," interposed Will o'Dreams.

There was almost unanimous agreement then that the song and dance had been very well done, the strongest testimony of all being offered by the little black dog, who approached Little Boy Blue and asked, quite as plainly as if he had spoken, to have the entertainment prolonged.

But as the entire band hoped to be on their way early in the morning, it was agreed, after a time, that a good night's sleep was the best thing they could have; and as the sun had now set, they went into the house, and each chose a place in which to spend the night.

The clamor of voices soon sank to a sleepy murmur; and presently there was such silence that the house might indeed have been a haunted one, just as the village superst.i.tion held it to be.

There would have been nothing more worth recording in the adventures of that day but for the fact that Everychild, at the last moment, felt an irresistible desire to explore the attic of the old house. And this he undertook to do, after all his companions had, as he supposed, fallen asleep.

CHAPTER XXI

AN ENCOUNTER IN THE ATTIC

He moved stealthily about the upper story of the house, trying this door and that. He did not wish to disturb his companions, for he knew that a sound in the dark would startle them, especially after they had been told of the rumor that the house was haunted.

The first and second doors he tried opened into empty rooms. The third and fourth, into closets. But the fifth opened to a narrow staircase; and ascending this on tip-toe, he presently found himself in the attic.

It was a very solemn place. The eaves sloped down closely as if they were a sort of hood, meant to hide something evil. There was one window at the gable end: a broken window, with fragments of gla.s.s lying about it. The light of the moon penetrated the window, making the fragments of gla.s.s glisten, and forming a pale avenue across the dusty floor.

There were old chests here and there, all mysteriously closed--perhaps locked. There were old garments hanging in obscure places. They made you think of persons lurking there in the dark. Outside the broken window an owl in a dark tree hooted mournfully.

Everychild crossed the attic cautiously. Timbers creaked beneath his feet. The smell of old, abandoned things arose. And suddenly he stopped short and clinched his hands. Beyond a pale haze of moonbeams he saw some one sitting on one of the closed chests.

That form in the gloom was perfectly motionless; and for a time Everychild tried to convince himself that here was simply another delusion--that certain old articles of furniture or clothing had been so arranged as to suggest the form of a human being.

But no, this could scarcely be. Every outline of the figure was too real. And besides, the person on the chest now moved slightly.

Everychild forced himself to advance a step, to move to right and to left, that he might learn something of that person who sat there in mysterious silence. And suddenly he found himself smiling and relaxing.

It was Will o'Dreams who sat there!

The giant had seen him at last, and he called out pleasantly, "You here too, Everychild? Come and sit down. There's room for two here on this old chest."

"I didn't know you were here," said Everychild.

"It's the very sort of place I like to visit," was the reply. "If ever you miss me, you've only to hunt for an old attic near by, and there you'll find me."

"I wonder why?" asked Everychild.

"Ah, I scarcely know. But a great many lovely persons come up into old attics--mostly children, or else quite old men or women--and I think they like to find me at such times."

"And do you never frighten them?"

The giant laughed. "I've no doubt I do, sometimes. But mostly I am of real help to them. The old things that are left in attics seem somehow different if I'm about. Some day you'll understand what I mean. And the sounds you hear in an attic, and the thoughts that come to you, seem pleasant in a way, as long as I'm near by."

Everychild realized immediately that this was true; for at that very moment the owl in the dark tree outside the broken window hooted--and the sound was not at all what it had been only a little while ago.

"It's fine to hear the owl make a noise like that, isn't it?" he asked of the giant.

"Is it?" replied Will o'Dreams with a kindly taunt in his voice.

"Suppose you tell me why."

"I'm not sure I can. But you know it makes you think of so many wonderful and strange things."

"Of what?" persisted the giant.

Everychild pondered a little, and then it seemed that he saw a sort of vision. "It makes you think of dark forests," he said, "--the very middle of them. And it makes you think of old ruined castles, with nothing living about them any more but the ivy climbing up on the broken walls."

The giant's eyes were shining in the gloom. "And what else?" he asked softly.