back above his head, his wings folded tight. He half opened his
slumbrous eyes on the Tree Mother as the boat floated away, but before
the smile in them faded he was asleep.

There was straight, sure, even flying then to Helma's little house, set
in its snowy garden,--and down they sank to the door stone. The Tree
Mother carried Ivra, who was fast asleep, in in her arms. The fire leapt
when they entered, until the walls and floor danced with light. The Tree
Mother undressed Ivra, who never once opened her eyes, and tucked her
into bed. Then she helped Eric, who was fumbling and missing buttons in
a sleepy way. But he was awake enough to kiss her good-night. And that
was the end of everything until morning.




CHAPTER VIII

A WITCH AT THE WINDOW


When the children woke the next morning, there was no Helma. Her bed had
not been slept in. They had been too sleepy the night before to wonder
at her absence, but now they could hardly believe their eyes. The room
was strange and lonely without her. The fire had died in the night. They
sat up in their beds and talked about it.

"She always comes back before bedtime," said Ivra. "She has never stayed
away before."