The Shape of Fear | Page 9

as we went on,
treading very lightly. A little green snake ran coquettishly from us. A
fat and glossy squirrel chattered at us from a safe height, stroking his
whiskers with a com- plaisant air.
At length we reached the "place." It was a circle of velvet grass, bright
as the first blades of spring, delicate as fine sea-ferns. The sunlight,
falling down the shaft between the hemlocks, flooded it with a softened
light and made the forest round about look like deep purple velvet. My
little godchild stood in the midst and raised her wand impressively.
"This is my place," she said, with a sort of wonderful gladness in her
tone. "This is where I come to the fairy balls. Do you see them?"
"See what?" whispered one tiny boy.
"The fairies."
There was a silence. The older boy pulled at my skirt.
"Do YOU see them?" he asked, his voice trembling with expectancy.
"Indeed," I said, "I fear I am too old and wicked to see fairies, and yet
-- are their hats red?"
"They are," laughed my little girl. "Their hats are red, and as small -- as
small!" She held up the pearly nail of her wee finger to give us the
correct idea.
"And their shoes are very pointed at the toes?"
"Oh, very pointed!"
"And their garments are green?"

"As green as grass."
"And they blow little horns?"
"The sweetest little horns!"
"I think I see them," I cried.
"We think we see them too," said the tiny boys, laughing in perfect
glee.
"And you hear their horns, don't you?" my little godchild asked
somewhat anxiously.
"Don't we hear their horns?" I asked the tiny boys.
"We think we hear their horns," they cried. "Don't you think we do?"
"It must be we do," I said. "Aren't we very, very happy?"
We all laughed softly. Then we kissed each other and Elsbeth led us out,
her wand high in the air.
And so my feet found the lost path to Arcady.
The next day I was called to the Pacific coast, and duty kept me there
till well into December. A few days before the date set for my return to
my home, a letter came from Elsbeth's mother.
"Our little girl is gone into the Unknown," she wrote -- "that Unknown
in which she seemed to be forever trying to pry. We knew she was
going, and we told her. She was quite brave, but she begged us to try
some way to keep her till after Christmas. 'My presents are not finished
yet,' she made moan. 'And I did so want to see what I was going to have.
You can't have a very happy Christ- mas without me, I should think.
Can you arrange to keep me somehow till after then?' We could not
'arrange' either with God in heaven or science upon earth, and she is
gone."

She was only my little godchild, and I am an old maid, with no
business fretting over children, but it seemed as if the medium of light
and beauty had been taken from me. Through this crystal soul I had
perceived whatever was loveliest. However, what was, was! I returned
to my home and took up a course of Egyptian history, and determined
to concern myself with nothing this side the Ptolemies.
Her mother has told me how, on Christmas eve, as usual, she and
Elsbeth's father filled the stockings of the little ones, and hung them,
where they had always hung, by the fire- place. They had little heart for
the task, but they had been prodigal that year in their expenditures, and
had heaped upon the two tiny boys all the treasures they thought would
appeal to them. They asked them- selves how they could have been so
insane previously as to exercise economy at Christ- mas time, and what
they meant by not getting Elsbeth the autoharp she had asked for the
year before.
"And now --" began her father, thinking of harps. But he could not
complete this sentence, of course, and the two went on pas- sionately
and almost angrily with their task. There were two stockings and two
piles of toys. Two stockings only, and only two piles of toys! Two is
very little!
They went away and left the darkened room, and after a time they slept
-- after a long time. Perhaps that was about the time the tiny boys
awoke, and, putting on their little dressing gowns and bed slippers,
made a dash for the room where the Christmas things were always
placed. The older one carried a candle which gave out a feeble light.
The other followed behind through the silent house. They were very
impatient and eager, but when they reached the door of