"Why not? He comes here often; and you also like it here, do you not?" "But Wistik said I could not stay." "You cannot do so--now; but why could you not come back again sometime?" "Could I?" Pan's face took on a most amused, astonished look, and he puffed out his cheeks. "You dear little Vraagal! Give me your hand." Johannes laid his small hand trustfully in the broad open palm. The large hand was dark and shaggy on the outside, but white, and smooth, and firm on the inside. "Do you not know that yet? Then let Father Pan make you happy with a word. Do not forget it, mind! _Vraagal can do whatever he wills to do--everything_--if he will only be patient! But tell me now,--how did you know me?" "I have seen statues and engravings of you." "Do I look like them?" "No!" said Johannes. "I think you are much nicer. In the prints you look like the Devil." "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Pan, raising his heavy hands above his head, and clapping them together. "That is who I am, Vraagal. They have made a devil of me, so as to drive people away. But do you believe, now, that I am bad? Give me your paddy again! And now the other one!" This time Johannes laid both his own in Pan's two giant hands, and said: "I know who you are. You are good. You are Nature!" "Hold your tongue, little hypocrite, with your conceited platitudes! Are you not ashamed of yourself?" Johannes blushed deeply; tears fell from his eyes, and he wished he could sink out of sight. But Pan drew him up closer and stroked his cheek. "Now, do not cry! It is not so bad. You have come, too, out of a dreary nest. I am not evil--neither is Wistik. Only trust us." "I have told him that, too," said Wistik, earnestly and emphatically. "Little Vraagal," continued Pan, looking very serious, "there is, indeed, an evil Devil, but he is far more ugly than I am. Is it not so, Wistik? You know him. Is he not much uglier? Tell us!" Johannes never forgot the look on Wistik's face as Father Pan asked him this in a loud voice, with a keen, serious regard. The little fellow grew as pale as death, his mouth dropped open, he pressed both hands upon his stomach, and from his trembling lips came the almost inaudible word: "Horrible!" "Oh, indeed!" said Pan. "Well, I am not that. Sometime Wistik must point him out to you. He looks much more like those foolish people you have just come from than like me." "Aunt Seréna?" asked Johannes, astounded. "Is _she_, then, not good and first-rate? Is _she_ a foolish person?" "Now, now, you dear little Vraagal!" said Pan, in palliation. "Everything is relative. But it is a fact that she looks more like the Devil than I do." "How can that be?" asked Johannes, in amazement. Pan grew a little impatient. "Does that puzzle you? Then ask her to show you the little tree she has in her safe, with the golden apples growing on it. Do not forget!" "Good, good!" shouted Wistik, clapping his hands with delight. * * * * *