And all the while he never saw the Irishwoman, not behind him this time, but before.

For just before he came to the riverside, she had stept down into the cool, clear water; and her shawl and her petticoat floated off her, and the green water weeds floated round her sides, and the white water lilies floated round her head, and the fairies of the stream came up from the bottom and bore her away and down upon their arms; for she was the queen of them all; and perhaps of more besides.

“Where have you been?” they asked her.

“I have been smoothing sick folks’ pillows, and whispering sweet dreams into their ears; opening cottage casements, to let out the stifling air; coaxing little children away from gutters and foul pools where fever breeds; turning women from the gin-shop door, and staying men’s hands as they were going to strike their wives; doing all I can to help those who will not help themselves; and little enough that is, and weary work for me.  But I have brought you a new little brother, and watched him safe all the way here.”

Then all the fairies laughed for joy at the thought that they had a little brother coming.

“But mind, maidens, he must not see you, or know that you are here.  He is but a savage now, and like the beasts which perish; and from the beasts which perish he must learn.  So you must not play with him, or speak to him, or let him see you; but only keep him from being harmed.”

Then the fairies were sad, because they could not play with their new brother; but they always did what they were told.  And their queen floated away down the river; and whither she went, thither she came.

But all this Tom, of course, never saw or heard; and perhaps if he had it would have made little difference in the story; for he was so hot and thirsty, and longed so to be clean for once, that he tumbled himself as quick as he could into the clear, cool stream.

And he had not been in it two minutes before he fell fast asleep, into the quietest, sunniest, coziest sleep that ever he had in his life; and he dreamt about the green meadows by which he had walked that morning, and the tall elm trees and the sleeping cows; and after that he dreamt of nothing at all.

The reason of his falling into such a delightful sleep is very simple; and yet hardly any one has found it out.  It was merely that the fairies took him.

The kind old dame came back at twelve, when school was over, to look at Tom; but there was no Tom there.  She looked about for his footprints; but the ground was so hard that there was no slot, as they say in dear old North Devon.

So the old dame went in again, quite sulky, thinking that little Tom had tricked her with a false story, and shammed ill, and then run away again.

* * * * *

When Sir John and the rest of them had run themselves out of breath, and lost Tom, they went back again, looking very foolish.  And they looked more foolish still when Sir John heard more of the story from the nurse; and more foolish still, again, when they heard the whole story from Miss Ellie, the little lady in white.