Leonore shuddered.

'Don't speak of frogs or toads,' she said, and she hastened on more rapidly. 'Do let us get away quickly,' she added. 'I have got such a feeling that we shall be treading on some.'

Hildegarde laughed at her.

'Nonsense,' she said, 'they couldn't live on this dry gravel or sand, or whatever it is. I expect the gnomes find them where the little streams trickle down. Oh, Leonore, I do hope we shall find our way! This path looks just exactly like the one we came in by.'

And so it did. But they had not far to go before all misgivings were set at rest by the unexpected appearance of a very fine gray donkey standing on the path before them. He was handsomely caparisoned, and a pannier hung at each side, large enough for a child of our little girls' size to sit in comfortably; and if any doubt remained in their minds as to what they were meant to do, it was soon put to flight, for as they came close up to the donkey, they saw that one pannier was labelled 'Hildegarde,'

and the other 'Leonore.'

'Oh, what fun!' they exclaimed. 'What nice arrangements the gnomes make!

This time they have not forgotten how big we are. What a beautiful donkey!'

A very quiet donkey too, apparently. He stood perfectly still while the little girls mounted into their places, which was all very well, but he showed no signs of moving after they were settled either, though they shook the reins and begged him to gee-up!

Suddenly Hildegarde turned to Leonore.

'Leonore,' she said, 'I don't believe he's a live donkey! Feel him--he's quite cold--he's like the magic horse in the _Arabian Nights_, who moved by a spring. How can we find out how to make him go?'

They had no need to do so after all. Almost before Hildegarde finished speaking, a short shrill whistle was heard, and off the same instant started the donkey!

'Up,' I should say--rather than 'off.' For, greatly to the children's astonishment, they felt themselves rising from the ground. Up, up, up they went, the light growing gradually dimmer and dimmer, till but for a round spot which gradually appeared white, high above them, they would have been in total darkness.

'Hildegarde,' whispered Leonore, 'are you frightened? It's a nice feeling, going up so fast, isn't it, but I wonder where we are going to?'

The star of white light overhead grew larger; they became able to distinguish that they were in a kind of shaft; it was not cold or uncomfortable in any way, and the panniers in which they sat were easily cushioned.

'I believe,' began Hildegarde, but she did not finish her sentence.

There came another whistle, softer and longer than the first, and something--was it a gentle hand, or the touch of a bird's feathered wing?--they could not tell--made both little girls close their eyes for a moment. And when they opened them again--where were they?

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHO SENT YOU TO KISS US, YOU BREEZES OF MAY?"]

CHAPTER VIII

TREE-TOP LAND

Where were you taught your song, little bird?

Who sent you to kiss us, you breezes of May?

There are secrets, yes secrets you never have heard, Whispered breezes and bird as they fluttered away.

_Spring Song._

Where were they?

Why, sitting on the short thymy gra.s.s just behind the Castle, not a stone's throw from the old tree trunk where they had found the little door, which the golden key had opened.

They gazed at each other, then rubbed their eyes and gazed again.

'How did we get out of the panniers?' said Hildegarde. 'I never felt anything, did you, Leonore?'

Leonore's reply was another question.

'Have we been dreaming?' she said. 'No, of course it couldn't be that, people can't dream the same dream together; it is too funny and queer.'

'It's just what it is,' said Hildegarde laughing. 'We've been to gnomeland, and now we've come back again. And after all, Leonore, we haven't been two hours away. Look at the sun, it is not near setting yet, but of course in gnomeland, as they told us, they don't count time as we do.'

She got up as she spoke and gave herself a little shake.

'I want to be sure I have not been dreaming,' she went on. 'Even though I _know_ I haven't. Pinch me, Leonore, just a nice little gentle pinch to make me feel real, and I'll pinch you in return.'

The pinching made them both laugh, which took away the dreamy feeling better than anything else.

'And now,' said Hildegarde, 'I suppose we had best make our way home--to your home I mean, Leonore, as fast as we can. Grandmamma gave me leave to stay out till sunset, and Aunt Anna will be expecting us back in time for coffee.'

'Yes,' said Leonore. 'She hoped you would come back with me after our walk; but, Hildegarde, what shall we say if they ask where we have been?'

'Say?' repeated Hildegarde, 'why, that we have been up in the woods behind the Castle. We mayn't tell anything more, and I don't believe we could if we tried. That is always the way with people who have been to Fairyland, or at least part of the way there--besides----' but she hesitated.

'Besides what?' asked Leonore curiously.

'Oh,' said Hildegarde, 'I was only going to say that I am not sure but what Aunt Anna understands a great deal more than she says. There is something very fairyish about her sometimes. I don't think she'll question us much.'

'Perhaps,' said Leonore, in her funny rather prim matter-of-fact little way, 'she has been there herself when she was a little girl.'

'I shouldn't much wonder,' Hildegarde replied, and then they turned to descend the hill towards the village street.

'Hildegarde,' said Leonore as they were walking on, 'how shall we know when we are meant to crack the next two nuts?'

'I can't tell you just now,' her little friend replied, 'for I don't know myself. But I am quite sure we shall know in good time. My fairy won't forget about us, and she will tell us somehow.'

Fraulein Elsa was looking out for them at the gate. She welcomed them with a cheerful smile.

'You are just in good time for coffee,' she said. 'Aunt Anna sent me out to look for you. Have you had a pleasant afternoon?'

'Very pleasant indeed,' Hildegarde replied. The governess asked no more, nor did Aunt Anna, who was seated at the table, where there was a tempting display of the cakes which she knew to be Hildegarde's favourites.

'I thought you would be punctual,' she said to the children; 'you have been up in the woods behind the Castle, I suspect, and I hope you have brought back a good appet.i.te?'

'Very good indeed,' they replied together, and at the same moment a funny thought struck them both. The 'collation' had not been of a kind to prevent their feeling hungry now! And Aunt Anna was quite satisfied with the way the cakes disappeared.

'I think I must be going home,' said Hildegarde a little later on.