Day after day she danced here, playing, as on the first meadow, the butterflies, flowers, and swallows. And now, as she danced, she seemed to float through the air, her feet almost motionless. Sometimes she would leap high and come down—float down—quite slowly. She seemed to have no weight at all, and a breeze would almost lift her off the ground and hold her up in the air. Indeed, when she ran with the wind behind her she would be blown along—blown like a leaf just above the flowers.
One day she was dancing there—dancing and leaping in the long grass, amid the blossoms. Butterflies drifted over the sunny field—butterflies of red and yellow, blue and green, black and white, orange and purple. How gracefully they flew; how delicately they alighted on the flowers; how fairy-like they were, hovering for an instant over some blossom, then dipping their wings and starting off again! Eepersip felt as though—as though she were going to be one of them; as though she were so happy that she must fly about with them, sip the honey from the flowers with them.
As she was thinking happily she heard a few faint peeps, which became louder as she danced toward a certain part of the field. Then there was a desperate twitter right at her feet, and, looking down she saw a yellow fledgling hopping towards her. She picked him up carefully and saw that he had broken his left wing. She worked a moment with her hands and pulled the bone into place. Then she made him a comfortable nest of grass and set out to see where he had come from. Looking up, she saw a nest from which a bird was peering about anxiously. Straightway she took the little one from the nest she had made, and climbed the tree with it to its own nest; upon which the mother-bird gave a twitter of joy.
After doing this Eepersip descended the tree and continued her happy dance with the butterflies until evening. Then they all found shelters under the leaves, and the stars came out, one by one. Presently Eepersip spied a flicker in the meadow—then another and still another, until the fireflies were out in full play. They gathered around Eepersip in one flaming mass, kissing her with their feathery wings. Making her way over to the pool, she saw her reflection, a shimmer of gold.
A light darted out toward her from the woods; then another and yet another, until there were hundreds of lights flickering and blinking at her from all corners of the great field—the lights of elves and gnomes, little fairies of the field. And she danced happily among them—danced until the dawn appeared on the horizon, sending away the darkness and making the stars fade into space. It flushed the whole sky with rose, sent arms of it even as far as the west; arms and streamers of colour which paled toward their tips. Little white clouds grew pink, too, and the colour was reflected on the distant mountain-tops. Again the snowfield seemed to become fire—fire which was soon quenched by the coolness of the snow. As the sun sent its first golden beams above the horizon, the colour faded, turned to yellow, and soon entirely disappeared. Then the sky was blue—deep, quivering blue, with the fluffy clouds like pearls in an azure setting.
Suddenly Eepersip saw that she was dressed in a flouncy array of spring crocuses and maidenhair ferns. Lovely flowers of pink and yellow were entwined in her hair, and butterflies fluttered around her. She danced happily and leaped high in the air. How free and light she felt in the lovely dress that had been given her!
That day Eepersip was even happier than usual. She floated about, visiting each flower, each bush and tree. She played games with the butterflies, the games she had played on the old meadow, that first summer of her life in the House without Windows. When she rested, she sat on top of a laurel-bush, and not a twig bent beneath her. The slightest breeze blew her about, changed the direction of her dance. Butterfly after butterfly flew to her, flock after flock, as if they had some message to tell her; and after each visit she was happier than before. Yes, they were messengers, these happy creatures; messengers who came to whisper her a secret—a secret from Nature, a secret of the beautiful meadow, a secret from the fairies.
And, when the sun again tinged the sky with colour, a flock of these butterflies, of purple and gold and green, came swooping and alighted on her head in a circle, the largest in front. Others came in myriads and covered her dress with delicate wing-touches. Eepersip held out her arms a moment. A gold-and-black one alighted on each wrist. And then—she rose into the air, and, hovering an instant over a great laurel-bush, vanished.
She was a fairy—a wood-nymph. She would be invisible forever to all mortals, save those few who have minds to believe, eyes to see. To these she is ever present, the spirit of Nature—a sprite of the meadow, a naiad of lakes, a nymph of the woods.
Historical Note
(By Another Hand)
In the opening week of January, 1923, there appeared on the outside of a certain door within a dingy, sunless, and cramped apartment a slip of paper bearing the following typewritten notice:
Nobody may come into this room if the door is shut tight (if it is shut not quite latched it is all right) without knocking. The person in the room if he agrees that one shall come in will say “come in,” or something like that and if he does not agree to it he will say “Not yet, please,” or something like
