its place in this way had never been
heard of before, and nobody was able to explain how it could have
happened. Old Pipes, however, knew very well that the sound came from
the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak-tree. The sides of the tree
were thin, and the sound of the pipes could be heard through them,
and the dwarf was obliged by the laws of his being to echo back those
notes whenever they came to him. But Old Pipes thought he might get
the Dryad in trouble if he let any one know that the Echo-dwarf was
shut up in the tree, and so he wisely said nothing about it.

One day the two boys and the girl who had helped Old Pipes up the
hill were playing in the woods. Stopping near the great oak-tree,
they heard a sound of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly
said:

"Let me out! let me out!"

For a moment the children stood still in astonishment, and then one
of the boys exclaimed:

"Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found! Let's let her out!"

"What are you thinking of?" cried the girl. "I am the oldest of all,
and I am only thirteen. Do you wish to be turned into crawling
babies? Run! run! run!"

And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the valley as fast as
their legs could carry them. There was no desire in their youthful
hearts to be made younger than they were. And for fear that their
parents might think it well that they should commence their careers
anew, they never said a word about finding the Dryad-tree.

As the summer days went on, Old Pipes's mother grew feebler and
feebler. One day when her son was away, for he now frequently went
into the woods to hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she
arose from her knitting to prepare the simple dinner. But she felt so
weak and tired that she was not able to do the work to which she had
been so long accustomed. "Alas! alas!" she said, "the time has come
when I am too old to work. My son will have to hire some one to come
here and cook his meals, make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas!
alas! I had hoped that as long as I lived I should be able to do
these things. But it is not so. I have grown utterly worthless, and
some one else must prepare the dinner for my son. I wonder where he
is." And tottering to the door, she went outside to look for him. She
did not feel able to stand, and reaching the rustic chair, she sank
into it, quite exhausted, and soon fell asleep.

The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage to see if she cou