The Princess Idleways Part 4

"Nor did I; we people of the woods do not wait to be spoken to--we are wiser than you. But do you really want some honey? If so, come with me and I will show you where you can find it."

"But who are you? I never saw you before," said Laura, forgetting that the little creature had already shown himself to be easily angered.

"Who am I? What difference is that to you?" said the queer little object. "Honey is honey; if you want some, come with me; if you don't, stay where you are."

"Oh, really," said Laura; "you are very kind. I do like honey, and it would be very nice with my dry oat-cake;" and, forgetting her staff, she followed the elf into the woods. He led her to a hollow tree, and, flinging his rabbit-skin away, clambered into the cavity, and came out with a great ma.s.s of glistening honey dripping from its white comb.

"Here; now let me see you eat it," said the elf, putting on his rabbit-skin again, and laying the honey-comb on a broad leaf at her feet. Laura sat down and dipped her oat-cake into the honey.

"It is delicious," said Laura. "Won't you have some?"

"I? No, indeed," said the elf, standing off and gazing at her curiously from beneath his bushy little eyebrows.

"Don't you care for it?"

"No; I'd rather sharpen my teeth on an acorn."

"But that is so bitter."

"It suits my digestion. I am a planter of bitter herbs."

"Are you? Oh, then you must know my good friend Grim?"

"To be sure I do! He came to see me a few days ago."

Laura thought Grim must be mistaken in his belief that the elves were fond of teasing children, for surely this one had been kind to her, when suddenly she remembered that she had not her staff with her. She jumped up hastily, crying out:

"Oh, my staff! my staff! I must go back and find it."

"Ha! ha!" laughed the elf, evidently amused at her alarm.

"Which way must I go?" asked Laura, anxiously.

"Any way you please, my dear. Is not the honey so good as it was?"

"Oh yes, yes, it is just as nice, and I thank you ever so much for it.

Now, please, dear Mr. Elf, let me go for my staff."

"I am not keeping you, am I?" laughed the elf, beginning a strange sort of dance, rubbing his hands together, and giving a series of jerks to the rabbit-skin.

Laura was ready to cry with vexation and alarm, but something seemed to tell her that she must control herself and not let this mischievous creature know how she felt; so, springing to her feet, she said, "I, too, can dance--see," and she waltzed away as if she were in a ball-room.

"Hurrah!" shouted the elf; "that is capital."

"Shall I teach you how to do it?" asked Laura, stopping to get breath.

"Yes; let me see the steps; go slowly. Oh, your feet are so big and clumsy I cannot copy you."

"But, Mr. Elf, you do it beautifully--really you do. Now show me, please, where the oak-trees are, that I may find my staff."

At this anxious request the elf started on a run, whooping and hallooing. Laura could do nothing else than follow him, but she found it difficult, he was so small and sprightly. Nimbly he leaped over the rocks, turning occasionally to make a queer grimace at poor Laura's efforts to keep pace with him. When it pleased him, he stopped and waited for her to come up.

A happy thought came to Laura. "Mr. Elf," said she, "I have a fine knife here. You could use it for almost anything. See, it is nearly as long as your arm, and it has a very curiously ornamented case, all of silver."

"Let me see it closer," said the elf, reaching up for it.

Laura held it high out of his reach, but his eyes evidently danced with eagerness to get it.

"A little closer--a little closer," said the elf.

"Not till I have my staff: give me that, and you shall have this," said Laura, shutting the knife and holding it still over his head.

"You have no fun in you. What do you want of your staff? Stay here in the woods, and you'll not need one. But you have not told me where you are going."

All the time he was speaking, the elf had his eyes on the knife; but Laura was guarded.

"I am going on an errand of charity, and I need my staff; please give it me. Look what a knife this is"--and she sprung the blade open again; then, a.s.suming to be weary of waiting, she said, "Well, I must go without my staff, I suppose. I have lost too much time already.

Good-morning, Mr. Elf. Your honey was very nice; I am much obliged.

Good-morning;" and she turned as if to go.

"Hoity-toity! you _are_ in haste. Well, if you must go, good-bye. Your staff is on your left-hand side, beneath the very trees before you. But how will I get the knife now?"

"Here," said Laura, only too glad to regain her precious staff; and giving the knife a toss on the gra.s.s, she ran for her stick. The elf shouted and danced again, and, shouldering the knife as if it had been a great bludgeon, he disappeared in the forest, the rabbit-skin dangling behind his back.

Laura was greatly relieved, and started on her tramp with the resolve that nothing should hinder or detain her again. All day she kept in the bed of the brook, as the Motherkin had told her to do, and as it grew afternoon and the rocks became precipitous it seemed to her that she could not go farther; but thoughts of the children inspired fresh courage. Her feet were aching, but as she reached the top of the high bank which bordered the stream, she espied a little thin curl of blue smoke rising probably from the very cottage of which she was in search.

Pus.h.i.+ng on through brambles and bushes, led by the gentle guidance of her valuable staff, she at last came to the cottage door, and, with her heart beating rapidly from excitement and fatigue, gently knocked for admittance.

CHAPTER VIII.

No answer coming to her knock, Laura pushed the door open, and saw just the same poor little room Grim had described. There were f.a.gots burning on the hearth; but though it was so poor and bare, it had an air of neatness and order as if unused. Even the forlorn little bed of straw looked as if no one had slept on it. Laura was so disappointed that she knew not what to do; but, too tired to make any search, she was about turning away when a light footfall arrested her, and she saw the figure of a weeping child coming towards the hut. Evidently this was the elder of the two children, for she had the same brown hair Grim had spoken of, but she was so much overcome by sorrow that she did not see Laura until she came quite to the door, and then she started as if with painful surprise.

"Do not be alarmed," said Laura. "I have been walking a long way, and am very tired: can you let me rest here for the night?"

"Oh yes," said the girl, with a sweet, sad smile. "I am very lonely now, but"--and she hesitated, glancing at Laura's embroidered dress--"I fear I cannot offer you anything so nice as you are used to having. I am very poor."

"But see, I have enough for both of us," said Laura, showing her flask of wine and her oat-cakes; "and I have nice warm clothing, too, which a kind friend sent to you. But where is little Fritz?"

A look of such deep pain came in the girl's pale face that Laura was sorry she had asked.

"How did you know anything about my little Fritz?" responded the girl, in a low tone.

"I will explain very soon," replied Laura; "but first tell me your name--mine is Laura."

"And mine is Kathinka, or Kathie."