“Oh, she took hold of my hand and led me a long way through such nasty streets, and to the nastiest house you ever saw in all your life. It made me awful ill all over.” “And what did you do, you poor child?” “I went dead—stone dead!” said the little guest, and then she paused in her speech and applied herself diligently to the “bread and butter with sugar on it.” “But you came to life again,” said Harcourt, with a smile. “Oh, yes; I came to life again,” said the imp, with her mouth full of bread and butter with sugar on it. “I always do. I’m used to it—I mean, I am getting used to it.” “Used to what, my dear?” “Used to going dead and coming to life again. I know it sounds as if I wasn’t possessed of common sense to say so, but it is the truth, for all that. I have been dead several times since I lost Lady,” added the elf, with a deep sigh. “Do you mean you fainted?” “Fainted? I don’t know what you are talking about ‘fainted.’ I went dead—stone dead—dead as a doornail! and I’ve gone dead two or three times, and the last time I was dead was in that horrid, nasty house.” “And when you came to life again——” “Oh, yes; when I came to life again I was out in the street, wrapped up in this—phew!—shawl, and lying on the ragged old woman’s lap, and she sitting on the cellar door, close by the stoop where you found me,” said the child, and then she stopped to take a draught of milk from the cup. “And so you found that all your nice clothes had been taken off you, and this ragged shawl wrapped around you?” “Yes; but, you see, I reckon it rained while I was dead, and my clothes must have got wet, and that poor, old, ragged woman took off my wet clothes and hung ’em to dry, and put her own poor shawl round me. I do think she had nothing else to wrap me up in, poor old thing, and it was good in her to do it, too. But, all the same, I wish she hadn’t; I’d rather be soaked to the skin than wear anything so nasty—wouldn’t you?” “I think I should,” answered the young man, quite sincerely. “It’s awful, you know—just awful! But one must have patience. Oh! what will Lady say to me when she sees me in this?” “We must try to get you a nice suit of clothes to take you in to Lady.” “Oh! will you—will you? That will be so jolly nice! Thank you ever so much, sir.” “Where did that woman leave you, my dear?” “Oh, just where you found me.” “What did she say when she left you?” “Didn’t I tell you? She said she was going to ask a boy to tell her which was the nearest way to get to the house.” “Which house?” “Lady’s house.” “My dear, do you mean Goblin Hall?” “’Course I do. Everybody knows Lady’s house is named Goblin Hall.” “And do you think it is anywhere near this place?” “I don’t know. I reckon it is. Not among the houses, though. Among the hills, and woods, and the trees and flowers. That’s where Lady’s house is.”