then from the woods over the river came a multitude of fairy echoes, sweet, elusive, silvery, as if all the “horns of elfland” were blowing against the sunset. Anne and Diana exclaimed in delight.
“Now laugh, Charlotta . . . laugh loudly.”
Charlotta, who would probably have obeyed if Miss Lavendar had told her to stand on her head, climbed upon the stone bench and laughed loud and heartily. Back came the echoes, as if a host of pixy people were mimicking her laughter in the purple woodlands and along the fir-fringed points.
“People always admire my echoes very much,” said Miss Lavendar, as if the echoes were her personal property. “I love them myself. They are very good company . . . with a little pretending. On calm evenings Charlotta the Fourth and I often sit out here and amuse ourselves with them. Charlotta, take back the horn and hang it carefully in its place.”
“Why do you call her Charlotta the Fourth?” asked Diana, who was bursting with curiosity on this point.
“Just to keep her from getting mixed up with the other Charlottas in my thoughts,” said Miss Lavendar seriously. “They all look so much alike there’s no telling them apart. Her name isn’t really Charlotta at all. It is . . . let me see . . . what is it? I think it’s Leonora . . . yes, it is Leonora. You see, it is this way. When mother died ten years ago I couldn’t stay here alone . . . and I couldn’t afford to pay the wages of a grown-up girl. So I got little Charlotta
