Now trumpet-like and commanding, now tender and appealing, the mystic music danced about her capriciously.  Her feet grew weary, but the blood and the love of life had begun to move in her, too, when her whole nature was unspeakably stirred.  She paused and leaned against a tree, to listen for the pipes o’ Pan.  But all was silent; the white stillness of the enchanted forest was like that of another world.  With a sigh, she turned to the left, reflecting that a long walk straight through the woods would bring her out on the other road at a point near her own home.

Exquisitely faint and tender, the call rang out again.  It was like some far flute of April blown in a March dawn.  “Oh, pipes o’ Pan,” breathed Evelina, behind her shielding veil; “I pray you find me!  I pray you, give me joy—­or death!”

Swiftly the music answered, like a trumpet chanting from a height.  Scarcely knowing what she did, she began to climb the hill.  It was a more difficult way, but a nearer one, for just beyond the hill was her house.

Half-way up the ascent, the hill sloped back.  There was a small level place where one might rest before going on to the summit.  It was not more than a little nook, surrounded by pines.  As she came to it, there was a frightened chirp, and a flock of birds fluttered up from her feet, leaving a generous supply of crumbs and grain spread upon the earth.

Against a great tree leaned a man, so brown and shaggy in his short coat that he seemed like part of the tree trunk.  He was of medium height, wore high leather gaiters, and a grey felt hat with a long red quill thrust rakishly through the band.  His face was round and rosy and the kindest eyes in the world twinkled at Evelina from beneath his bushy eyebrows.  At his feet, quietly happy, was a bright-eyed, yellow mongrel with a stubby tail which wagged violently as Evelina approached.  Slung over the man’s shoulder by a cord was a silver-mounted flute.

From his elevated position, he must have seen her when she entered the wood, and had glimpses of her at intervals ever since.  It was evident that he thoroughly enjoyed the musical hide-and-seek he had forced her to play while he was feeding the birds.  His eyes laughed and there were mischievous dimples in his round, rosy cheeks.

“Oh,” cried Evelina, in a tone of dull disappointment.

“I called you,” said the Piper, gently, “and you came.”

She turned on her heel and walked swiftly away.  She went downhill with more haste than dignity, turned to her right, and struck out through the woods for the main road.

The Piper watched her until she was lost among the trees.  The birds came back for their crumbs and grain and he stood patiently until his feathered pensioners had finished and flown away, chirping with satisfaction.  Then he stooped to pat the yellow mongrel.

“Laddie,” he said, “I’m thinking there’s no more gypsying for us just now.  To-morrow, we will not pack our shop upon our back and march on, as we had thought to do.  Some one needs us here, eh, Laddie?”