Ninnie-Dinnie did not get home till quite late in the afternoon, and when Joan asked her where she had been so long, she said a little Skavarnak would not let her come before, and that he stood in the path barring the way, till a dinky little woman in a bluish cloak came over the moor, and then he sped away through a hole in a carn.
'What a funny thing!' said Joan; 'hares generally keep out of folks' way. He must be different from other little hares.'
'I am sure he must be,' she said, setting the Pail on the dresser.
'Have 'ee brought the sunbeams?' asked Joan, turning her gaze to the bucket.
'Yes; and by-and-by, when the sun begins to set, you will be able to see them.'
Joan, thinking her Ninnie-Dinnie was pretending--for she saw when the child came into the kitchen that the Pail contained nothing--only laughed.
When the great round sun dropped down to his setting, the crippled woman, happening to turn her face to the dresser, saw a tongue of white flame rise out of the Pail, and on its tip burnt a ruby star!
It startled her almost out of her senses at first; but as it did not grow bigger, but only increased in beauty, she gazed at it with wondering delight.
As the evening darkened over the moor, and the Hooting Carn was dim in the distance, the light in the Pail grew exceedingly beautiful, and took all manner of shapes and colours, and made the room where Joan sat as lovely as the dear Small People's Country, Ninnie-Dinnie said--how she knew, it did not occur to her foster-mother to inquire.
''Tis magic!' cried the woman, looking round the room, 'an' I don't understand it one bit.'
'P'r'aps,' said the child softly, 'it is the dear Little People's way of showing how grateful they feel for your kindness to your little Ninnie-Dinnie.'
'I haven't been kinder than I ought,' began Joan; 'and--'tis raining, surely,' she broke off, as a trickle of water fell on her ear. ''Tis queer, too! There's no sign of wet weather in the sky.'
The child went to the window and looked out.
'There is a tiny stream of water coming down the road,' she said. 'I believe 'tis the little brown Pool coming for its sunbeams.'
'It is,' said the little maid, looking out again, 'and it has made itself into a dark ring outside our door.'