And then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his cottage.  But when he mentioned the matter to his mother, the old woman became very angry indeed.  She did not believe in Dryads; and, if they really did exist, she knew they must be witches and sorceresses, and she would have nothing to do with them.  If her son had ever allowed himself to be kissed by one of them, he ought to be ashamed of himself.  As to its doing him the least bit of good, she did not believe a word of it.  He felt better than he used to feel, but that was very common.  She had sometimes felt that way herself, and she forbade him ever to mention a Dryad to her again.

That afternoon, Old Pipes, feeling very sad that his plan in regard to his mother had failed, sat down upon the rock and played upon his pipes.  The pleasant sounds went down the valley and up the hills and mountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons who happened to notice the fact, the notes were not echoed back from the rocky hill-side, but from the woods on the side of the valley on which Old Pipes lived.  The next day many of the villagers stopped in their work to listen to the echo of the pipes coming from the woods.  The sound was not as clear and strong as it used to be when it was sent back from the rocky hill-side, but it certainly came from among the trees.  Such a thing as an echo changing its place in this way had never been heard of before, and nobody was able to explain how it could have happened.  Old Pipes, however, knew very well that the sound came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak-tree.  The sides of the tree were thin, and the sound of the pipes could be heard through them, and the dwarf was obliged by the laws of his being to echo back those notes whenever they came to him.  But Old Pipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble if he let any one know that the Echo-dwarf was shut up in the tree, and so he wisely said nothing about it.

One day the two boys and the girl who had helped Old Pipes up the hill were playing in the woods.  Stopping near the great oak-tree, they heard a sound of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said: 

“Let me out! let me out!”

For a moment the children stood still in astonishment, and then one of the boys exclaimed: 

“Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found!  Let’s let her out!”

“What are you thinking of?” cried the girl.  “I am the oldest of all, and I am only thirteen.  Do you wish to be turned into crawling babies?  Run! run! run!”

And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the valley as fast as their legs could carry them.  There was no desire in their youthful hearts to be made younger than they were.  And for fear that their parents might think it well that they should commence their careers anew, they never said a word about finding the Dryad-tree.