“They dressed as I do,” said the Fairy. “But sometimes their faces were painted green or red or blue. And I could see no good in that. Sometimes they wore tassels of hair at their belts. Ugh! I did not like that fashion. Sometimes their hands were red, and when they went away the waters of my spring were stained. Ugh! Neither did I like that. But they were brave and strong and noble. I loved the Red Men, for they lived out of doors in the sweet sunlight, as I did. They loved the fresh air and the blue sky and the green grass. They would have no stifling roof over their heads to shut out the sky; no four walls to keep off the fresh air. Ugh! I cannot breathe in a house. I stifle! I choke!” “Then how did you come to be shut up in this house?” asked Rob, wondering very much. “Listen. The White Men came to Shawmut; White Men with cows and dogs, women and children. They built houses on the Hill, near the bubbling springs, and planted corn. They drove away the Red Men, and I loved them not, for they were different. They wore ugly dark garments, hats and short cropped hair. They lived in close wigwams, and cared nothing for fresh air and blue sky. Neither did they love the trees, but cut them down to burn, and mowed the flowers for their ugly ploughed fields. The woods and the streams meant nothing to them but places wherein they might hunt and fish, which they did gloomily. For they were solemn folk and sad. They thought it wicked to laugh merrily, as the brook laughs, or to smile like the flowers. Even the little children dared not be too gay, but were afraid of their fathers!” “That must have been a horrid time for children,” said Rob. “Alas! It was indeed a sad time for everybody,” went on the Fairy. “The brave Red Men were gone. Even the rabbits and squirrels were gone. The Hill was peopled with solemn and ugly folk, who dared not be happy, and it was no longer beautiful as before. Yet I could not go away and leave my spring, my dear spring, which ran sweet and clear as ever. It was the favorite fountain of the Puritans, and crouching down under the moss and ferns I watched them come and go, gloomily, filling their buckets and pitchers. But I loved them not, and I hoped that the Red Men would come back and drive them away. But the Red Men never came again.” “And what happened next?” asked Rob, much interested.