Toonie could not understand what the old fellow meant, and he could not speak to him. But the poor creature clung to his feet, holding them to prevent him from taking another step; so Toonie just stooped down, and (for he was so little and light) picked him up by the scruff, and carried him by his waistband, so that his arms and legs trailed together along the ground. In the open moonlight ahead little people were all agog; bright dewdrops were shivering down like rain, where flying feet alighted--shot from bent grass-blades like arrows from a drawn bow. Tight, panting little bodies, of which one could count the ribs, and faces flushed with fiery green blood, sprang everywhere. But at Toonie’s coming one cried up shriller than a bat; and at once rippling burrows went this way and that in the long grass, and stillness followed after. The poor, dangling old man, whom Toonie was still carrying, wriggled and whined miserably, crying, “Come back, masters, for it is no use--this one sees you! He has got past me and all my poor skill to stop him. Set me free, for you see I am too old to keep the door for you any longer!” Out buzzed the fairies, hot and angry as a swarm of bees. They came and fastened upon the unhappy old man, and began pulling him. “To the ant-hills!” they cried; “off with him to the ant-hills!” But when they found that Toonie still held him, quickly they all let go. One fairy, standing out from the rest, pulled off his cap and bowed low. “What is your will, master mortal?” he inquired; “for until you have taken your wish and gone, we are all slaves at your bidding.” They all cringed round him, the cruel little people; but he answered nothing. The moonbeams came thick, laying their slender white palms graciously upon Toonie’s head; and he, looking up, opened his mouth for a laugh that gave no sound. “Ah, so! That is why--he is a mute!” cried the fairies. Quickly one dipped his cap along the grass and brought it filled with dew. He sprang up, and poured it upon Toonie’s tongue; and as the fairy dew touched it, “Now speak!” they all cried in chorus, and fawned and cringed, waiting for him to give them the word. Cudgelling his brain for what it all meant, he said, “Tell me first what wish I may have.” “Whatever you like to ask,” said they, “for you have become one of our free men. Tell us your name?” “I am called Little Toonie,” said he, “the son of old Toonie that was lost.” “Why, as I live and remember,” cried the little elderly man, “old Toonie was me!” Then he threw himself grovelling at his son’s feet, and began crying: “Oh, be quick and take me away! Make them give me up to you: ask to have me! I am your poor, loving old father whom you never saw; all these years have I been looking and longing for you! Now take me away, for they are a proud, cruel people, as spiteful as they are small; and my back has been broken twenty years in their bondage.”