en, children, I don't know what on earth is to
become of you, when fearful things of this sort come into your heads,
and you won't let yourselves be persuaded to the contrary!"

But the baron grew very grave and thoughtful. "Felix," he said, "you
are really a very sensible boy now; and I must admit that Tutor Ink has
always, from the very first, struck me as being a very strange,
mysterious creature. Indeed, it often seemed to me that there was
something very queer about him, which I could by no means get to the
bottom of; he is not like the common run of tutors at all. Your mother
and I are by no means satisfied with him, particularly your mother. He
has such a terribly liquorish tooth of his own, there's no keeping him
away from sweet things! And then he hums and buzzes in such a
distressing way! Altogether, I can assure you he wouldn't have been
here much longer. No! But now, my dear boy, just bethink yourself
calmly; even if there were, really, any such nasty things as gnomes
existing in the world, could (I ask you now to think it over calmly and
rationally), _could_, I say, a tutor really be a fly?"

Felix looked his father steadily in the face with his clear blue eyes,
as he repeated this question. "Well," said Felix, "I never thought very
much about that; in fact, I should not have believed it myself, if the
Stranger Child had not said so, and if I had not seen, with my own
eyes, that he is a horrible, nasty fly, and only pretends to be Tutor
Ink. And then," continued Felix, while the baron shook his head in
silence, like one who does not know quite what to say, or think, "see
what mother says about his fondness for sweet things. Isn't that just
like a fly? Flies are always grabbing at sweet things. And then, his
hummings and buzzings!"

"Silence!" cried the baron. "Whatever Tutor Ink may really be, one
thing is certain; that the pheasant prince has not bitten him to death,
for here he comes out of the wood!"

At this the children uttered loud screams, and fled into the house.

For, in truth, Tutor Ink was approaching out of the wood, up the path
among the birches. But he was all wild-looking and bewildered, with
sparkling eyes, and his wig all touzled. He was buzzing and humming,
and making great springs, high off the ground, first to one side, then
to another, banging his head against the birches till you heard them
resound. When he got to the house, he dashed at the milk-jug and popped
his face into it, s