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'How extremely pretty!

Won't you jump again?'

Child-World.

----Godmother was no longer there. She and the carriage and the ponies had completely disappeared. Maia opened her eyes and mouth with amazement, and stood staring. Waldo and Silva and Rollo too could not help bursting out laughing; she looked so funny. Maia felt a little offended.

'I don't see what there is to laugh at,' she said; 'especially for you, Rollo. Aren't you astonished too?'

'I don't think I should ever be astonished at anything about godmother,' said Rollo. 'Besides, I saw her drive off while you were kissing Silva. She certainly went like the wind.'

'And where are we?' asked Maia, looking round her for the first time; 'and what are we going to do, Silva?'

'We are going to pay a visit,' said Silva. 'Waldo and I had already promised we would when we got the message that you were coming, so godmother said she would go back and fetch you.'

'But who brought you a message that we were coming?' asked Maia.

'One of godmother's carrier-pigeons. Ah, I forgot, you haven't seen them yet!'

'And where are we going?'

'To spend the afternoon with the squirrel family. It's close to here, but we must be quick. They will have been expecting us for some time. You show us the way, Waldo; you know it best.'

It was dark in the wood, but not so dark as it had been when they were driving with godmother, for a few steps brought them out into a little clearing, something like the one where the cottage stood, but smaller. The mossy grass here was particularly beautiful, so bright and green and soft that Maia stooped down to feel it with her hand.

'I suppose no one ever comes this way?' she said. 'Is it because no one ever tramples on it that the moss is so lovely?'

'Nobody but us and the squirrels,' said Silva. 'Sometimes we play with them out here, but to-day we are going to see them in their house. Sometimes they have parties, when they invite their cousins from the other side of the wood. But I don't think any of them are coming to-day.'

Silva spoke so simply that Maia could not think she was making fun of her, and yet it was very odd to speak of squirrels as if they were people. Maia could not, however, ask any more, for suddenly Waldo called out:

'Here we are! Silva, you are going too far.'

Rollo and Maia looked round, but they saw nothing except the trees. Waldo was standing just in front of one, and as the others came up to him he tapped gently on the trunk.

'Three times,' said Silva.

'I know,' he replied. Then he tapped twice again, Rollo and Maia looking on with all their eyes. But it was their ears that first gave them notice of an answer to Waldo's summons. A quick pattering sound, like the rush of many little feet, was heard inside the trunk, then with a kind of squeak, as if the hinges were somewhat rusty, a door, so cleverly made that no one could have guessed it was there, for it was covered with bark like the rest of the trunk, slowly opened from the inside, showing a dark hollow about large enough for one child at a time to creep into on hands and knees.

'Who will go first?' said Waldo, lifting his little red cap as he looked at Maia.

'What nice manners he has,' she thought to herself. 'I think you had better go first, please,' she said aloud. For though she would not own it, the appearance of the dark hole rather alarmed her.

'But we can't all get in there,' said Rollo.

'Oh, yes,' replied Waldo. 'I'll go first, and when I call out "all right," one of you can come after me. The passage gets wider directly, or—any way there's lots of room—you'll see,' and, ducking down, he crept very cleverly into the hollow, and after a moment his voice was heard, though in rather muffled tones, calling out 'all right.' Rollo, not liking to seem backward, went next, and Maia, who was secretly trembling, was much comforted by hearing him exclaim, 'Oh, how beautiful!' and when Silva asked her to go next, saying 'Maia might like to know she was behind her,' she plunged valiantly into the dark hole. She groped with her hands for a moment or two, till the boys' voices a little way above her led her to a short flight of steps, which she easily climbed up, and then a soft light broke on her eyes, and she understood why Rollo had called out, 'Oh, how beautiful!'

They stood at the entrance of a long passage, quite wide enough for two to walk abreast comfortably. It was entirely lined and carpeted with moss, and the light came from the roof, though how one could not tell, for it too was trellised over with another kind of creeping plant, growing too thickly for one to see between. The moss had a sweet fresh fragrance that reminded the children of the scent of their other world flowers, and it was, besides, deliciously soft and yet springy to walk upon.

Waldo and Rollo came running back to meet the little girls, for Silva had quickly followed Maia.

'Isn't this a nice place?' said Rollo, jumping up and down as he spoke. 'We might run races here all the afternoon.'

'Yes; but we must hasten on,' said Silva. 'They're expecting us, you know. But we can run races all the same, for we've a good way along here to go. You and Waldo start first, and then Maia and I.'

So they did, and never was there a race pleasanter to run. They felt as if they had wings on their feet, they went so fast and were so untired. The moss gallery resounded with their laughter and merry cries, though their footfalls made no sound on the floor.

'What was the pattering we heard after Waldo knocked?' asked Maia suddenly.

'It was the squirrels overhead. They all have to run together to pull open the door,' said Silva. 'The rope goes up to their hall. But you will see it all for yourself now. This is the end of the gallery.'

'This' was a circular room, moss-lined like the passage, with a wide round hole in the roof, from which, as the children stood waiting, descended a basket, fitted with moss cushions, and big enough to hold all of them at once. In they got, and immediately the basket rose up again and stopped at what, in a proper house, one would call the next floor. And even before it stopped a whole mass of brown heads were to be seen eagerly watching for it, and numbers of little brown paws were extended to help the visitors to step out.

'Good-day, good-day,' squeaked a multitude of shrill voices; 'welcome to Squirrel-Land. We have been watching for you ever so long, since the pigeon brought the news. And the supper is all ready. The acorn cakes smelling so good and the chestnut pasties done to a turn.'

'Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Bushy!' said Silva. 'I am sure they will be excellent. But first, I must introduce our friends and you to each other. Maia and Rollo, this is Mrs. Bushy,' and as she said so the fattest and fussiest of the squirrels made a duck with its head and a flourish with its tail, which were meant for the most graceful of curtsies. 'Mr. Bushy——' she stopped and looked round.

'Alas! my dear husband is very lame with his gout to-day,' said Mrs. Bushy. 'He took too much exercise yesterday. I'm sure if he went once to the top of the tree he went twenty times—he is so active, you know; so he's resting in the supper-room; but you'll see him presently. And here are my dear children, Miss Silva. Stand forward, my dears, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Do look at their tails—though I say it that shouldn't, did you ever see such tails?' and Mrs. Bushy's bright eyes sparkled with maternal pride. 'There they are, all nine of them: Nibble, Scramble, Bunchy, Friskit, and Whiff, my dear boys; and Clamberina, Fluffy, Tossie, and sweet little Curletta, my no less beloved daughters.'

Whereupon each one of the nine, who had collected in a row, made the same duck with its head and flourish with its tail as Mrs. Bushy, though, of course, with somewhat less perfection of style and finish than their dear mamma.

'Such manners, such sweet manners!' she murmured confidentially to Silva and Maia.

Maia was by this time nearly choking with laughter—'Though I say it that shouldn't say it, I am sure you young ladies must be pleased with their sweet manners.'

'Very pleased, dear Mrs. Bushy,' said Silva; 'I'm sure they've learned to duck their heads and wave their tails beautifully.'

'Beautifully,' said Maia, at which Mrs. Bushy looked much gratified.

'And shall we proceed to supper, then?' she said. 'I am sure you must be hungry.'

'Yes, I think we are,' said Waldo; 'and I know your chestnut cakes are very good, Mrs. Bushy.'

Rollo and Maia looked at each other. Chestnuts were very nice, but what would chestnut cakes be like? Besides, it wasn't the season for chestnuts; they must be very old and stale.

'How can you have chestnuts now?' asked Maia. Mrs. Bushy looked at her patronisingly.

'Ah, to be sure,' she said, 'the young lady does not know all about our magic preserving cupboards, and all the newest improvements. To be sure, it is her first visit to Squirrel-Land,' she added encouragingly; 'we can make allowance. Now, lead the way, my dears, lead the way,' she said to her nine treasures, who thereupon set off with a rush, jumping and frisking and scuttering along, till Maia could hardly help bursting out laughing again, while she and Silva and Rollo and Waldo followed them into the supper-room, where, at the end of a long narrow table, covered with all sorts of queer-looking dishes, decorated with fern leaves, Papa Bushy, in a moss arm-chair, his tail comfortably waving over him like an umbrella, was already installed.

'I beg your pardon, my dear young friends,' he began, in a rather deeper, though still squeaky voice, 'for receiving you like this. Mrs. Bushy will have made my apologies. This unfortunate attack of gout! I am, I fear, too actively inclined, and have knocked myself up!'

'Ah, yes,' said Mrs. Bushy, shaking her head; 'I'm sure if Mr. Bushy goes once a day to the top of the tree, he goes twenty times.'

'But what does he go for if it makes him ill?' exclaimed Maia.

Mrs. Bushy looked at her and gasped, Mr. Bushy shut his eyes and waved his paws about as if to say, 'We must excuse her, she knows no better,' and all the young Bushys ducked their heads and squeaked faintly,—evidently Maia had said something very startling. At last, when she had to some extent recovered her self-control, Mrs. Bushy said faintly, looking round her for sympathy:

'Poor child! Such deplorable ignorance; but we must excuse it. Imagine her not knowing—imagine any one not knowing what would happen if Mr. Bushy did not go to the top of the tree!'

'What would happen?' said Maia, not sure if she felt snubbed or not, but not inclined to give in all at once.

'My poor child,' said Mrs. Bushy, in the most solemn tone her squeaky voice was capable of, 'the world would stop!'

Maia stared at her, but what she was going to say I cannot tell you, for Silva managed to give her a little pinch, as a sign that she had better make no more remarks, and Mrs. Bushy, feeling that she had done her duty, requested everybody to take their places at table. The dishes placed before them were so comical-looking that Rollo and Maia did not know what to reply when asked what they would have.

'An apple, if you please!' said Maia, catching sight at last of something she knew the name of. But when Mrs. Bushy pressed her to try a chestnut cake she did not like to refuse, and seeing that Waldo and Silva were careful to eat like the squirrels, holding up both hands together like paws to their mouths, she and Rollo did the same, which evidently gave the Bushy family a better opinion of the way in which they had been brought up. The chestnut cakes were rather nice, but poor Rollo, having ventured on some fried acorns which smelt good, could not help pulling a very wry face. Supper, however, was soon over, and then Waldo and Silva asked leave very politely to go 'up the tree,' which in squirrel language was much the same as if they had asked to go out to the garden, and Mrs. Bushy, with many excuses for not accompanying them on account of her household cares, and Mr. Bushy, pleading his gout, told her nine darlings to escort the visitors upstairs.

Now began the real fun of the afternoon. A short flight of steps, like a little ladder, led them to the outside of the tree. The nine Bushys scampered and rushed along, squeaking and chattering with the greatest good-nature, followed more slowly by the four children. For a moment or two, when Rollo and Maia found themselves standing on a branch very near the top of the tree, though, strange to say, they found it wide enough to hold them quite comfortably, they felt rather giddy and frightened.

'How dreadfully high up we seem!' said Maia. 'Rollo, I'm sure we must have grown smaller. The trees never looked so big as this before. It makes me giddy to look either up or down.'

'You'll get used to it in a minute,' said Waldo. 'Silva and I don't mind it the least now. Look at the Bushys, Maia, isn't it fun to see them?'

And Maia forgot her fears in watching the nine young squirrels. Had Mrs. Bushy been with them, her maternal vanity would have been gratified by the admiration their exploits drew forth. It really was the funniest and prettiest sight in the world to see them at their gambols. No dancers on the tight-rope were ever half so clever. They swung themselves up by the branches to the very top of the tree, and then in an instant—flash!—there they were ever so far below where the children were standing. And in another instant, like a brown streak, up they were again, darting hither, there, and everywhere, so that one felt as if the whole tree were alive. When they had a little worked off their spirits they squeaked to the children to join them; Waldo and Silva did so at once, for they were used to these eccentric gymnastics, and to Rollo and Maia they looked nearly as clever as the squirrels themselves, as, holding on by their companions' paws and tails, they jumped and clambered and slid up and down. So in a little while the new-comers too took courage and found the performances, like many other things, not half so hard as they looked. And oh, how they all laughed and screamed, and how the squirrels squeaked with enjoyment! I don't think ever children before had such fun. Fancy the pleasure of swaying in a branch ever so far overhead quite safe, for there were the nine in a circle ready to catch you if you slipped, and then hand in hand, or rather hand in paw, dancing round the trunk by hopping two and two from branch to branch, nine squirrels and four children—a merry baker's dozen. Then the sliding down the tree, like a climber on a May-pole, was great fun too, for the Bushys had a way of twisting themselves round it so as to avoid the sticking-out branches that was really very clever. So that when suddenly, in the middle of it all, a little silvery tinkling bell was heard to ring, and they all stood still looking at each other, Rollo and Maia felt quite vexed at the interruption.

I don't think ever children before had such fun.

'Go on,' said Maia, 'what are you all stopping for?'

'The summons,' said Waldo and Silva together. 'We must go. Good-night, all of you,' to the squirrels. Had their mother been there, I fancy they would have addressed Clamberina and her brothers and sisters more ceremoniously. 'Good-bye, and thank you for all the fun.'

'Good-bye, and thank you,' said Rollo and Maia, rather at a loss as to whether they should offer to shake paws, or if that was not squirrel fashion. But before they had time to consider, 'Quick,' said a voice behind them, which they were not slow to recognise, 'slide down the tree,' and down they slid, all four, though, giving one glance upwards, they caught sight of the nine squirrels all seated in a row on a branch, each with their pocket-handkerchief at their eyes, weeping copiously.

'Poor things,' said Maia, 'how tender-hearted they are!'

'They always do that when we come away,' said Waldo; 'it's part of their manners. But they are very good-natured.'

'And where's godmother,' said Maia, when they found themselves on terra-firma again. 'Wasn't it her voice that spoke to us up on the tree, and told us to come down?'

'Yes,' said Silva; 'but she called up through a speaking-trumpet. I don't know where she is herself. She may be a good way off. But that doesn't matter. We can tell what to do. Lay your ear to the ground, Waldo.'

Waldo did so.

'Are they coming,' asked Silva.

'Yes,' said Waldo, getting up; 'they'll be here directly;' and almost before he had left off speaking the pretty sound of tinkling bells was heard approaching, nearer and nearer every second, till the children, to their delight, caught sight of the little carriage and the tiny piebald ponies, which came dancing up to them all of themselves, and stood waiting for them to get in.

'But where's godmother?' exclaimed Maia; 'how can we get home without her?'

'All right,' said Waldo; 'she often lends Silva and me her ponies. I can drive you home quite safely, you'll see. Get in, Maia and Silva behind—Rollo and I will go in front.'

And off they set. It was not quite such a harum-scarum drive as it had been coming. Waldo did not take any flying leaps—indeed, I think nobody but godmother herself could have managed that! but it was very delightful all the same.

'Oh, Silva,' exclaimed Maia, 'I do so wish we need not go back to the white castle and Lady Venelda and our lessons! I do so wish we might live in the cottage with you and Waldo, always.'

Silva looked a little sorry when Maia spoke thus.

'Don't say that, Maia,' she said. 'Godmother wouldn't like it. We want to make you happy while you're here—not to make you impatient. If you and Rollo were always at the cottage, you wouldn't like it half so much as you do now, coming sometimes. You would soon get tired of it, unless you worked hard like Waldo and me.'

'Do you work hard?' said Maia, with some surprise.

'Yes, of course we do. You only see us at our play-time. Waldo goes off to the forester's at the other side of the wood every morning at six, and I take him his dinner every day, and then I stay there and work in the dairy till we come home together in the evening.'

'But you sometimes have holidays,' said Maia.

'Yes, of course we do,' said Silva, smiling. 'Godmother sees to that.'

'How?' asked Maia. 'Does she know the forester and his wife? Does she go and ask them to give you a holiday?'

'Not exactly,' said Silva, smiling. 'I can't tell you how she does it. She has her own ways for doing everything. How does she get you your holidays?'

'Does she get us them?' said Maia, astonished. 'Why, Lady Venelda never speaks of her. Do you think she knows her?'

'I can't tell you,' said Silva, again smiling in the same rather strange way as before, and somehow when she smiled like that she reminded Maia of godmother herself; 'but she does know somebody at the white castle, and somebody there knows her.'

'The old doctor!' exclaimed Maia, clapping her hands. 'I'm sure you mean the old doctor. Ah! that's how it is, is it? Godmother sends to the old doctor or writes to him, or—or—I don't know what—and then he finds out we need a holiday, and—oh, he manages it somehow, I suppose!'

'Yes,' said Silva; 'but as long as you get your holiday it's all right. When godmother tells us of anything we're to do, or that she has settled for us, we're quite pleased without asking her all the little bits about it.'

'I see,' said Maia; 'but then, Silva, you're different from me.'

'Of course I am,' said Silva; 'but it wouldn't be at all nice if everybody was the same. That's one of the things godmother always says.'

'Yes, like what she says about how stupid it would be if we knew everything, and if there was nothing more to puzzle and wonder about. It is nice to wonder and puzzle sometimes, but not always. Just now I don't mind about anything except about the fun of going so fast, with those dear little ponies' bells tinkling all the way. I shall be so sorry to get to the cottage, for we shan't have time to go in, Silva. We shall have to hurry home not to be too late for supper.'

Just as she spoke Waldo pulled up sharply.

'What's the matter?' called out Maia. She had been talking so much to Silva that she had not noticed the way they were going. Now she looked about her, and it seemed to her that she recognised the look of the trees, which were much less close and thick than in the middle of the forest. But before she had time to think more about it a voice close at hand made both her and Rollo start.

'Well, young people,' it said, 'you have had, I hope, a pleasant day? You, too, Waldo and Silva? It is some time since I have seen you, my children.'

It was, of course, the voice of the doctor. All the four jumped out of the little carriage and ran forward to their old friend, for to Rollo's and Maia's surprise, the two forest children seemed to know him quite as well as they did themselves.

He seemed delighted to see them all, and his kind old face shone with pleasure as he patted the curly heads of the boys and Maia, and stroked gently Silva's pretty, smooth hair.

'But you must go home,' he said to Waldo and Silva. 'Good-night, my children;' and quickly bidding their little friends farewell, the brother and sister sprang up again into the tiny carriage, and in another moment the more and more faintly-tinkling bells were all left of them, as Rollo and Maia stood a little sadly, gazing in the direction in which they had disappeared.

'And you have been happy?' said the old doctor.

'Very happy,' both replied together. 'We have had such fun.' But before they had time to tell their old friend anything more he interrupted them.

'You, too, must hurry home,' he said. 'You see where you are? Up the path to the right and you will come out at the usual place just behind the castle wall at the back.'

Rollo and Maia hastened to obey him.

'How queer he is!' said Maia. 'He doesn't seem to care to hear what we've been doing—he never asks anything but if we've been happy.'

'Well, what does it matter?' said Rollo. 'I like only to talk to ourselves of the queer things we see when we're with Waldo and Silva. I wonder what they will show us or where they will take us the next time?'

'So do I,' said Maia.

'Waldo said something about the eagles that live up in the high rocks at the edge of the forest,' said Rollo. 'He did not exactly say so, but he spoke as if he had been there. Wouldn't you like to see an eagles' nest, Maia?'

'I should think so, indeed!' replied Maia eagerly. 'But I don't think that's what they call it, Rollo; there's another name.'

'Yes, I think there is, but I can't remember it,' he answered. 'But never mind, Maia, here we are at the gate. We must run in and get ready for supper.'