out, up and down until they were too tired and hot for any more.

Then they lay up in the hay where there was a little window, looking far
out across the meadows.

Eric saw Ivra out there in the first field, wandering around alone and
now and then looking up at the barn. She must have heard their shouts
and laughter. He pointed her out to the other children. "That is my
playmate out there," he said. "Let's open the window and call to her to
come up. She'll tell us stories."

The children looked out eagerly. "But there's nobody there," they said.

Eric laughed. "No, look!" He pointed with his finger. "Over there by the
white birch. Look! She sees us." He waved. "Quick, help me open the
window."

He could not find the catch. The window was draped with cobwebs and
dusty with the dust of years. It looked as though it had never been
opened.

The little red-headed girl put her hand on his arm. She was laughing.
"Don't be silly," she said. "There's no one by the white birch. You're
imagining."

"Why, look! Of course she's there!" Eric was impatient. "She's moving
now, waving to us. Of course you see her!"

"Yes," said the jolliest of the boys. "We do see it--faintly. We've seen
it before too,--a kind of a shadow on the snow. But father says it's