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He sighed.
Two months can be a long time. A very long time.
“Come on,” said Guinevere, leaning against him on the window seat. “Let’s go out and look for fairy tracks, okay?”
Ben tore himself away from the sight of the empty sky and nodded. “I saw some down by the pond yesterday,” he said.
“Good.” Guinevere led the way to the garden gate. “We’ll try there first, then.”
“Dress warm,” Vita Greenbloom called after them. “There’s a smell of autumn in the air this morning.”
“Wait a minute, I’m coming, too!” cried Twigleg, scrambling hastily down the table leg.
“But this time, you must translate everything they say to us,” said Guinevere, putting his knitted jacket on him. “Promise?”
“Even if those fairies just talk more nonsense?” snapped Twigleg.
“Yes, even then,” replied Guinevere. “I want to hear their nonsense, too.”
Ben grinned. Then he picked up Twigleg and followed her outside.
Yes, two months could be a long time. But not with a sister like Guinevere.
o;Even if those fairies just talk more nonsense?” snapped Twigleg.
“Yes, even then,” replied Guinevere. “I want to hear their nonsense, too.”
Ben grinned. Then he picked up Twigleg and followed her outside.
Yes, two months could be a long time. But not with a sister like Guinevere.
