s with the long
eyelashes, her rosy cheeks, and the wind-blown hair straying from under
her hood.

"O look, Lottchen, here is a little basin of holy water, just like we
saw in the cathedral," said Trudel.

"Wood water,
Nice and brown,
In a little cup.
Wood water,
Wood wine,
Won't you drink it up?"

said a tiny voice that sounded like that of a wood-bird.

"Mother! did _you_ hear anything, mother?"

"Yes, darlings, the birds are singing so sweetly now the rain is over. I
have brought my camp-stool. I shall sit here and sketch the tree," said
mother.

"Do draw _him_," said Trudel, whose blue eyes were open wider than
usual.

"Him! Whom do you mean?" said mother.

"Why, the tree man, of course."

"Hum," said mother mysteriously, "we'll see," and she settled herself
down to sketch.

The children collected huge acorns, and laid them on a leaf in the
hollow tree. Then they stirred up the brackish "holy" water and put
their fingers in it.

"It smells like lavender and roses," said Lottchen.

"Well, you've got a funny nose; it smells to me like blackberry and
apple-tart," said Trudel.

"Ha--ha--he!" said a little voice again. Somebody was laughing. Where
could he be? Glancing round quickly the children saw a little man about
three feet high, dressed in green, wearing a long peaked cap with a
wreath of tiny oak-leaves around it. He looked very strong, although he
was small, and he stuck his arms out akimbo in a curious angular way
like the branches of an oak-tree.

"How did you know that trees were alive?" he asked the children.

They were embarrassed by the question.

"Why, of course we know they are not dead, unless they are cut down,"
they said.

The little man shuddered; then he began to wave his arms about wildly.

"_Let_ them try to cut me down, I'll knock them down. I'll fall on them
and crush their bones. I'll smash them like this stone!" Here he gave a
stone that stood near by, such a tremendous whack that sparks flew out
of it.

"Don't smash us, please, Mr Tree Man," said Lottchen trembling.

"No fear, little Miss Lottchen, no fear, you're a nice little thing, you
are; one can see that to look at you. You would _never_ cut me down,
would you?"

"Why, of course not," said Lotty.

"_I_ should not dream of such a thing either," said Trudel. "But may we
ask who you are?" Trudel continued, "You are surely not a tree?"

"Well, it's like this," said the little man; "I'm a tree, a