“Indeed I do. But my father and mother will be so anxious about me, I must make haste—first up the mountain to tell my mother, and then down into the mine again to let my father know.”
“Very well, Curdie; but you can’t get out without coming this way, and I will take you through the house, for that is nearest.”
They met no one by the way, for, indeed, as before, the people were here and there and everywhere searching for the princess. When they got in Irene found that the thread, as she had half expected, went up the old staircase, and a new thought struck her. She turned to Curdie and said:
“My grandmother wants me. Do come up with me and see her. Then you will know that I have been telling you the truth. Do come—to please me, Curdie. I can’t bear you should think what I say is not true.”
“I never doubted you believed what you said,” returned Curdie. “I only thought you had some fancy in your head that was not correct.”
“But do come, dear Curdie.”
The little miner could not withstand this appeal, and though he felt shy in what seemed to him a huge grand house, he yielded, and followed her up the stair.