"You don't know Bess; she's so executive that--"

"That she wouldn't kick eggs for anything," finished Pan, mockingly. "She
does pretty well in the Russian ballet, doesn't she?"

"Oh, I wish you could just see her in the 'Cloud Wisp'!" I exclaimed, with
the greatest pride, for Bess Rutherford has nothing to envy Pavlova about.

"I have--er--have a great desire to so behold her at some future time,"
answered Pan, with one of his eery laughs, and I could almost see hoofs
through the raw hide of his shoes. I would have ruffled the red crests off
of the tips of his ears to see if they really were pointed if he had not
stood just out of reach of my hand, where it would have been impossible to
catch him if I tried.

"You won't eat with me in civilization, you won't meet any of my friends,
and I don't believe you ever want to please me," I said as I turned away
from his provocation and began again with the scissors.

"I don't like world girls," he said with the fluty coo in his voice that
always calms the Ladies Leghorn when they are ruffled. "I only love farm
women. The moon is beginning to get a rise out of the setting sun, and
let's go away from these haunts of men to our own woods home. Come along!"
As he spoke Pan pocketed his long knife, picked up his stick and bundle,
and began to pad away through the trees down towards the spring, with me at
his shoulder, and for the first time he held my hand in his as I followed
in my usual squaw style.

In all the long dreary weeks that followed I was glad that I had had that