h--let us!" assented Una, her excitement, too, running like wildfire
through the wood.

And, presently, the two city girls, wafting themselves airily over
bowlders, threading their way in and out among pigmy pines, with here
and there a needled patriarch among them, came upon a forest scene that
might well have wakened Queen Mab from her sleep in a cobweb net and
made her think that some, at least, of the fairy dreams with which she
inspired mortals had come true.

A dozen, and more, of sylvan figures, the green tassels of their
Tam-o'-shanters waving like the tasseled green of the cinnamon fern
flitted busily in and out among their passive brothers, the trees, not
pines here, but a few beautiful stripling birches planted in a sunny
spot.

To these white-stemmed saplings, tall and taper-like, some of the
nymphs, maidens from thirteen to seventeen, were playing fairy
godmother, affixing to their slender trunks placards proclaiming the
exaction of dire forfeits from any wanton human churl found guilty of
mutilating a silver birch tree, stripping it even of an inch of tender
skin, thus entailing upon it decay and death.

Other of the maidens were gathering fagots for an outdoor fire to the
tune of a version of Andrew's song, not without humor in the present
crisis:

"Singing whack fol de ri do,
'Twill comfort their souls,
To get such fine fagots,
When they've got no coals!"

One, brisk spoon in hand, was busily stirring some fairy brew, batter
rather--an older figure superintending, Queen Mab herself maybe, having
a golden sunburst embroidered upon the heaving emerald of her breast.

Now! to these came forth two other maidens, emerging, breathless, from
the Pinnacle pines, and made the hand-sign of fire.

Up went gracefully a dozen green arms, in charming tableau, as the
woodland nymphs paused in their work, their curving fingers typifying
the warmth of the curling flame behind the finger--the Camp Fire welcome
to heart and hearth.

A genial flame which the Guardian--she of the golden maturity--put into
winsome words, as she approached.

"Welcome--thrice welcome,--Sisters!" she cried. "We are the White Birch
Group of Lenox, at present engaged in protecting our younger brothers,
the little trees which we planted ourselves. I am Tanpa--signifying
Birch--Guardian of the Group; in everyday life just Myra Seaver."

"And my name is Lorry--Pemrose Lorry--my ceremonial name Wantaam, a Wise
Woman