oon that I am speaking of, hardly had Nora
reclined upon her bench, feeling a bit drowsy no doubt with the heat,
yet not quite sleepy you know, listening to a robin singing with
the voice of Eden, when she heard a light tapping on the wall of the
largest beech, the one that was nearest to the place where she was
lying. At first when she heard this sound she thought that it was the
robin redbreast that she had noticed hopping up and down in the open
place in the sunlight, and yet she knew well that robins do not drum
upon the bark of trees like woodpeckers. So she jumped lightly up and
ran to the tree, and at once she was aware that the tapping was from
inside the tree. And between the taps that were no louder than those
of a branch against a window-pane she distinctly heard a very tiny
voice.

"How tiny was the voice, Michael aroon?"

You are asking me how tiny was the voice? Let me see if I can tell
you. You have heard the sound of the rivulet when it falls upon the
mossy stones in the pasture by the bar-way? Well, it was about as
loud as the echo of that if you should walk thirty paces away and then
listen. So Nora had to put her ear up close against the breast of the
beech-tree and even then the voice sounded no louder than the sound
of a beech-leaf when it falls from a branch into the moss-bed. But she
could hear what that voice was saying, and it was these words: "Nora,
my darling, turn the key and let me out." Nora looked around in
amazement, but sure enough, there on the breast of the beech, about
the height of her heart, was a small key of the color of the bark,
that she had never noticed before, though she had hugged that
beech-tree every morning of her life. So Nora turned the key at once,
and out stepped----"

"A fairy, Michael?"

Yes, better than a fairy, a dryad, that is a fairy of the tree. For a
fairy of a tree is as much higher in rank than a fairy of the meadow
as a duchess is than a goose-girl. She was about the size of the robin
redbreast, and she was dressed all in green, except a lovely cloak of
red that, when it was folded about her, made her look very much indeed
like the redbreast himself, and she was no bit bigger than the robin
either.

"Nora Mavourneen," said the dryad, "I have been noticing that you
seem a bit sad-hearted of late, and for no reason either that anybody
knows, so if you don't mind I will take you with me for a walk this
afternoon through fairyland, and we will see if we