en
glance with a gaze of steady interest. Sullen and pale, but
clear-eyed--she liked the little stranger. And so she went on talking.

"I bring them milk every day. It's a long way here from my farm, but not
too far when it's for them. Helma's gone into the village, hasn't she?
When I came to Little Pine Hill this morning the snow stopped whirling
for a minute, and I caught a glimpse of her a-striding across the
fields. It's a fine way of walking she has--like the bravest of Forest
People! When I reached the Tree Man's the wind didn't stop for me, but I
spied that child, Ivra, just where I knew she'd be,--racing and chasing
and dancing with the Snow Witches out at the edge of the wood. 'It's a
pity she can't go with her mother,' I said to myself when I saw her,
'and not be wasting her time like that. The Snow Witches are no good to
any one. But--'"

Eric interrupted there, having finished his mush and pricking up his
cars at the mention of witches.

"Are they really witches?" he cried. "And have you seen them yourself?"

"What else would they be?" asked the old woman. "They're the creatures
that come out in windy, snowy weather, to dance in the open fields and
run along country roads. Ordinary people are afraid of them and stay
indoors when they're about. Their streaming white hair has a way of
lashing your face as they rush by, and then they never look where
they're going. They care nothing about running into you and knocking the
breath out of you. Then, they're so cruel to children!"

"But Ivra isn't afraid of them!" wondered Eric.

"Not she," said the old woman. "She runs _with_ them instead of away
from them. When I saw them back there they had all taken hands and were
leaping in a circle around her. She was jumping and dancing in the
center as wild and lawless as they, and just as high, too. . . . But it's a
pity she isn't with her mother all the same, going on decent errands in
the village. Only of course it's not her fault, poor child! She daren't
go into the village."

"Why _daren't_ she?" asked Eric.

"_How_ dare she?" cried the old woman. "She'd be seen, for she's only
part fairy, of course. But hush, hush!"

She clapped her hands over her mouth. "What am I telling you,--one of
the secrets of the forest, and you a stranger here? You must forget it
all. Ivra's a good child. Now don't ask me any more questions, or I
might tell you more."

But Eric had begun to wonder. What did it mean, that Ivra was