Willie had started up to run out and rectify this omission, but on being assured that the fairy liked tea almost as well without as with cream, and that there was no cream to be got near at hand, he sat down again and continued to do the honours of the table. First he made the fairy sit up in bed, and commented sadly on her poor thin neck as she did it, observing that she was nothing better than a skeleton in a skin. Then he took off his own jacket and put it on her shoulders, tying the arms round her neck. Next he placed a piece of board in front of her, saying that it was a capital tray, and on this he arranged the viands neatly. "Now, then, go at it, Ziza," he said, when all was arranged. Ziza, who received his attentions with looks that were wonderfully gleeful for one in her weak state of health, went at it with such vigour that the bread was eaten and the tea drunk in a few minutes, and the supply had to be renewed. When she was in the middle of her second round of buttered toast (for Willie had toasted the bread), she stopped suddenly. "Why don't you go on?" asked Willie. "Because you have not eaten or drunk one mouthful yet." "But I'm lookin' at you, and ain't that better? Howsever, if ye won't go on, I'll not keep you back," and with that Willie set to work, and, being uncommonly hungry, did what he styled "terrible execution among the wittles." For some time the nurse and patient ate in comparative silence, but by degrees they began to talk, and as they became more confidential their talk became more personal. "D'you like bein' a fairy?" said Willie, after a lull in the conversation. "No, I don't," replied Ziza. "Why not?" "Because--because--I don't like the kind of things we have to do, and-- and--in short, I don't like it at all, and I often pray God to deliver me from it." "That's strange, now," said Willie, "I would have thought it great fun to be a fairy. I'd rather be a little clown or a he-fairy myself, now, than anything else I know of, except a fireman." "A fireman, Willie?" "Yes, a fireman. My brother, Blaz--a--Frank, I mean, is one, and he saved the lives of some people not long since." Of course Willie here diverged into a graphic account of the fire in Beverly Square, and, seeing that Ziza listened with intense earnestness, he dilated upon every point, and went with special minuteness into the doings of Frank. When he concluded, Ziza heaved a very deep sigh and closed her eyes. "I've tired you, Ziza," exclaimed Willie, jumping up, with a look of anxiety, and removing the tea-board and jacket, as the child slipped down under the clothes. He asked if she wanted to go to sleep. "Yes, for I'm _very_ tired," she sighed languidly; then added, "but please read to me a little first." "What book am I to read you?" said Willie, looking round the room, where no book of any kind was to be seen. "Here, it's under the pillow." Willie put his hand under the pillow and pulled out a small pocket-Bible.