“Just jump down on the other side and go straight ahead,” she told her. “I am sorry I cannot go with you to show you the way, but I have to spin six dreams before supper. Good-bye! I’ll see you again some day. Kiss me!” Bab stooped from the top of the wall, and kissed her. “Good-bye, dear Princess, and thank you!” she cried. But the Idle Princess had gone! Bab hurried on through the Wonderful Wood, determined not to let anything else tempt her to stop again. The way seemed clear and open now. The trees grew wider apart, and from somewhere a soft sunset light was stealing through them. Suddenly Bab heard a great voice yawning, and through the bushes stalked a tall, gray man, with a long beard, and big solemn eyes. He stared at Bab, and Bab stared at him. “Who are you?” asked Bab. Somehow his gaze made her feel sleepy. The stranger yawned again before replying. “The Sand Man,” he said, in a heavy, drowsy voice. Bab found herself yawning in sympathy. Then she started and stared. “Why, I didn’t know—” she began. “What?” asked the Sand Man, dreamily. “That you—that you—well, that you _were_, you know!” she stammered. Truly this Make Believe Land was a queer place! She would expect to meet the Man in the Moon next, or the Old Woman who Sweeps the Cobwebs off the Sky! “You may meet them both, if you like,” said her new acquaintance, though she had not spoken. Bab jumped. “I didn’t say a word!” she exclaimed. “No,” returned the Sand Man, “but you thought.” “Oh!” she murmured, “I didn’t know—” “There are many, many, many, many things you do not know,” remarked the Sand Man, so calmly that she could not call him rude, though she felt rather uncomfortable. She resolved to make friends with this queer creature. He was not merry and sweet, like the dear Idle Princess, but he looked as though he knew a great deal, and she felt quite a respect for him. “I wonder,” she said timidly, “if you would tell me why they call you the Sand Man.” “Sit down,” he said gravely, “and I will tell you. But you must be very still while I talk.” They sat down on a soft bank of moss, and the Sand Man began. “Where I live,” he said, speaking in a low, slow voice, “there is a whole world of sand. It doesn’t lie out flat, like the desert, but in heaps and hills and waves, like the moors or the ocean. And down in the hollows it is soft and dark and cool, but up on the tops of the hillocks it is warm and bright. And when you lie on one of these hillocks, and look up at the blue, hot sky, a little lazy wind comes stealing along, and shifts the sand ever so slightly, and it begins to slide—and slide—and slide very softly, and you slide with it until—” “Oh, dear!” sighed Bab, sleepily. “I’m afraid I’m going to sleep!” “If you do, it is all the better,” said the Sand Man, calmly. “You will understand me much more clearly when you are asleep.” And he went on: