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And Will, seeing her there, would tear into the house and drag her by the hand forth into the sweet, rain-washed air. "An' see, Mother," he would tell her, as he haled her on to the sward beyond the arbor, "here it is, the story you told us yester-e'en. Here is the ring where they danced last night, the little folk, an' here is the glow-worm caught in the spider's web to give them light."
Thus it is that the familiar sounds of rapid and spasmodic beating on a tambourine, which tell that the charmer is collecting an audience, still prove an irresistible attraction for me as well. The ring in which I find myself is just a reproduction of that surrounding the story-teller of yester-e'en, but where his musicians sat there is a wilder group, more striking still in their appearance.
The old woman was convinced at this name. She caught Galors by the arm. "And will you take back the lamb to the dam?" she bleated. "That is all I ask," replied Galors, speaking the truth. "You may catch her, Messire you may catch her. Ah, if I could only have known of you yester-e'en! She's had but seven hours' start of you. Take the path for Thornyhold Brush, and you'll find her.
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