“Well, you are some little fiend at arithmetic,” pronounced Wendell with great relief. “Glad you are satisfied,” said the Pixie. “Of course you understand that if you can’t perform my tasks, you belong to me.” “Well, I might as well belong to you as to Miss Ounce,” ruminated Wendell. “Come on with your first task. I suppose it will be water in a sieve from the Charles River or something like that. They always are.” “I should say not,” said the Pixie with scorn in his voice. “That might be all very well for the old Kobold that lives under Flag Staff Hill. It’s just his style, in fact. He’s using the same stuff he did when Merlin was practicing. No, I like to advance with the best thought of the time. I’m no back number. Trust me, _I_’ll find something up to date.” “Well, speed up,” said Wendell. “What do you want me to do?” “How should I know?” said the Pixie. “Give me time. I’ll drop around to-night and let you know.” Just as he was speaking, the door opened, and in came Miss Ounce, and maybe Wendell didn’t jump! He started so conspicuously that Miss Ounce fixed him with an accusing eye and said, “Well, Wendell, up to mischief, I suppose, instead of doing your work.” “No, Miss Ounce,” said Wendell, noting with relief that the Pixie was nowhere in sight, and promptly handed over his papers. “Um, um!” murmured Miss Ounce. “Very good! Might be neater. Every one right, though. Now, Wendell, why is it that when you can do such excellent work as this, you have such a shocking daily record? Yes, _shocking_ is the word.” Wendell knew the answer to that, but he didn’t give it. He took his lecture silently, standing first on one foot and then on the other, but his mind was on the magic task that the Pixie was to set him, and as soon as he could he slid out of the room. CHAPTER III THE PIXIE’S FIRST TASK The Pixie came that evening, true to his word. Wendell, undisturbed by fractions, luxuriously idling over his fairy books, looked up suddenly and there sat the funny little fellow on the foot of the bed. “How are you?” said the Pixie. “I didn’t have time to say good-bye to-day. Your Miss Ounce turned the door-handle too quickly.” “That’s all right,” said Wendell. “Are you ready to spring my first task yet?” “Yes, _sir_,” said the Pixie gleefully. “And you can’t say it isn’t up to the minute. You must bring me an aeroplane that you have found traveling underground.” “Why, there’s no such thing,” said Wendell vexedly. “An aeroplane traveling underground! How silly! An aeroplane doesn’t travel underground. How can it?” “Don’t ask me,” shrugged the Pixie. “How should I know? You can’t expect me to make up the tasks and think up the answers too. Be reasonable.” And he vanished. Wendell was greatly cast down. “It’s a fool task,” he said as he went to bed. “In fact, it’s impossible.”