[Illustration: Was it fancy that he had seen a waving, fluttering form beside him?] The boy turned to look who was speaking. His first thought was that one of his companions, knowing of the trick Tony had played him, had run after him with the books. But the figure beside him was not that of one of his companions--was it that of any one at all? Gratian rubbed his eyes; the faint light that remained,--the last rays of reflected sunset--were more bewildering than decided night; was it fancy that he had heard a voice speaking? was it fancy that he had seen a waving, fluttering form beside him? No, there it was again; softly moving garments, with something of a green radiance on them, a sweet, fair face, like a face in a dream, seen but for an instant and then hidden again by a wave of mist that seemed to come between it and him, a gentle yet cheery voice repeating again-- "What of the books, Gratian? How are you going to find them?" "I don't know," said the boy. "Who are you? How do you know about them, and can you help me to find them?" But the sound of his own voice, rough and sharp, and yet thick it somehow seemed, in comparison with the soft clearness of the tones he had just heard, fell on his ears strangely. It seemed to awake him. "Am I dreaming?" he said to himself. "There is no one there. How silly of me to speak to nobody! I might as well be speaking to the wind!" "Exactly," said the voice, followed this time by a little burst of the sweetest laughter Gratian had ever heard. "Come, Gratian, don't be so dull; what's wrong with your eyes? Come, dear, if you do want to find your books, that's to say. You see me now, don't you?" And again the fresh waft passed across his cheeks, and again the flutter of radiant green and the fair face caught his eyes. "Yes," he said, "I see you now--or--or I did see you half a second ago," for even while he said it the vision had seemed to fade. "That's right--then come." He was opening his lips to ask how and where, but he had not time, nor did he need to do so. The breeze, slight as it was, seemed to draw him onwards, and the faint, quivering green light gleamed out from moment to moment before him. It was evident which way he was to go. Only for an instant a misgiving came over him and he hesitated. "I say," he called out, "you mustn't be offended, but you're not a will-o'-the-wisp, are you? I don't want to follow one of them. They're no good." Again the soft laughter, but it sounded kind and pleasant, not the least mocking. "That's right. Never have anything to say to will-o'-the-wisps, Gratian. But I'm not one--see--I keep on my way. I don't dance and jerk from side to side." It was true; it was wonderful how fast she--if it were she, the voice sounded like a woman's--got over the ground and Gratian after her, without faltering or stumbling or even getting out of breath.