“Taffy stood beside the Captain of the Jane Ellen while the rose-red faded into yellow, and palest green, and violet, and a few large stars came out, one by one. Then,—faint at first, then, brighter and brighter,—the stars that told Taffy Little Bear was at his post! And a great shout went up from all the ships, that must have reached the sky! It seemed to Taffy that the stars glowed brighter, and he could almost feel the touch of soft fur, softer than anything in the world, and a little thrill went to his heart, that said: ‘You see, Taffy dear, I’m here!’ “Then the fifty-two ships set sail in every direction, and the Jane Ellen was alone once more. And all night long, as she went on her way, whenever Taffy looked up at the Northern sky, the Sailor’s Star hung over the Pole. But Little Bear swung slowly, slowly around it, watching, watching the ships that were sailing to all quarters of the world. And on every ship the sailors said:— “‘God bless the Little Bear!’” As the Princess came to the end the children grew very still. When she had spoken the last word no one stirred for a moment. Then they all stirred at once. The Kitten slid off from her big chair and came straight across to sit on the Princess’s silken knee, and the Others with her, to crowd as close as they could,—to talk about it and ask all the questions they had saved for the end, not to interrupt the story. And they had a great deal to say, and had saved a great many questions. “You did understand, didn’t you, Kitten?” said the Princess. “I knew you would.” The Kitten nodded, and wriggled on the Princess’s knee. “Could you feel it prickle?” she asked. “‘Little thrills,’ she means,” Phyllisy suggested. “Um-m,” said the Kitten. “That night—you said he brought a message.” “But you were asleep,” said the Princess. “I heard. Would it hurt?” “No, indeed! It was a little warm thrill that went to my heart.” “The same as Taffy,” said Pat. “Just the same,” said the Princess. Then Miss Phyllisy brought her the rosy hat, and she pinned it on; for there were long shadows across the sloping lawn and the petunia bed; only the high steps down the terrace were still in the sun. III THE COMET AND THE POLE STAR “How did they fasten the stars on him?” asked the Kitten. She didn’t say who “he” was, but they knew, though it was quite another time. “With a half-hitch and another half-hitch, then belay,” said the Princess, promptly. “Much better than sewing them, or pins. Don’t you think so?” “Pins would stick him,” agreed the Kitten. “Whereabouts did they fasten them?” asked Pat. The Princess reached out her arm and picked a narrow pointed shell out from the hard sand. It lay broad and brown between them and the gray sea, worrying, whiteand-green at the other edge. Out over the sea whitish-gray fog was waiting all around in a circle. It went up and joined the gray sky over; and a salt smell blew out of it.