"Haven't I, little partner?" he inquired, with infinite tenderness. "Well, that's a grave omission, isn't it? I'll tell you one now." As she sank down contentedly in his lap, and settled her outspreading little skirt primly about her: "What shall it be about?" "A fairy story," she suggested. "A fairy story about a little girl." He sat for a moment, in thought; at length he began: "Well, once upon a time, there was a little girl--a fairy princess." "Was she pretty?" "Beautiful. Beautiful as she was good, good as she was beautiful. She was a wonderful, wonderful princess. There was a fairy prince, too," he went on, "a handsome, dashing--a prince that everyone loved and admired and honored." She nodded, seriously. "Yes," she said. "Go on." "Now in the part of the country--it was called the Land of the Great Unrest--there lived a gnome who was a friend of the prince and princess. Do you know what a gnome is?" Little brows were bent deep in mental flagellation. Then, at length, very eruditely, she ventured: "No'm is when you say no to a lady, isn't it?" He laughed, a little; then, seriously: "That's a different kind of a gnome. The kind of a gnome I mean is a fat man, with long, thin legs and a big, round body and a funny face." "Oh, now I know!" she cried. "There's a picture of one in the book that you gave me for my birthday. Only this one had whiskers and a funny cap-- like a cornucopia." He nodded. "That's the fellow," he agreed. "That's the kind I mean--only all of them don't have whiskers; and some of them wear yachting caps, or panamas, or most anything.... Well, the prince and the princess loved one another, and they got married." "That was nice." "Yes," he added; "for them. But it wasn't for the gnome. You see, the gnome loved the princess, too." "Did she know it?" He shook his head. "No one knew it but the gnome," he returned. "And the prince and princess were very happy. Then a little princess came to live with them, and they were happier yet." "A little princess like me?" she queried, interestedly. "Very much like you," he assented. "And what did the gnome do?" "Why," he replied, "the gnome just went away and lived in a hole in the ground, all alone." "Didn't he ever come out?" "Yes; he used to come out sometimes to tell fairy stories to little girls. But he had to go back again, all alone." She sighed most dismally and said: "Poor, old gnome." "Poor, old gnome," he repeated. "And then--?" she prompted. "That's all." "Isn't there any more?" "No." She gazed up at him, disappointedly. "I don't think that's a very nice story," she declared. "Don't you?" he said; "I'm sorry, little partner. I didn't mean to tell you that story. I--"