Saying this, she led the astonished Florio to a cottage of twisted vines and roots, built by herself and her attendant elves. The walls were brilliant with innumerable glow-worms and fireflies, which sparkled like living gems; the floor was soft with scented rushes. Garlands of roses festooned the rooms, in one of which was a table filled with fruit. Smiling with glee, Florella watched her young friend's admiration, which ended in complete astonishment when from an adjoining apartment came Franz and Rosa, the goatherd and his sister. His joy was now complete, but when he turned to thank Florella she was nowhere to be seen. Thus it came to pass that we know of the famous gardener and seedsman Florio, whose plants are of boundless celebrity, and whose cultivated blossoms outrival the famous exotics of the world. In this forest he lived, and raised from season to season every flower that grows. No frost seemed to touch them, no drought withered them, for Florella was true to her promise of reward, and in addition to giving Florio a home, gave him also health and wealth and fame. The elves were always on guard against moles and injurious worms, the fairies sprinkled the seeds and protected the young buds, and basking in the sunshine outside the cottage door was always to be found Florio's pet, the red fox, whom Florella for a time had chosen to be his guardian. Franz and Rosa also induced their family to leave the Alpine snows for the beautiful land of flowers. BOREAS BLUSTER'S CHRISTMAS PRESENT "'_Tis an ill wind that blows no good_." CHAPTER I It had been a hard, cold, cruel winter, and one that just suited old Frozen Nose, the Storm King, whose palace of ice was on the north shore of the Polar Sea. He had ordered Rain, Hail, and Snow, his slaves, to accompany Lord Boreas Bluster on an invasion of the temperate zone, and when they had done his bidding he harnessed up his four-in-hand team of polar bears and went as far south as he dared, just to see how well they had obeyed him. How he roared with laughter when he found nearly all vegetation killed, and the earth wrapped in a white mantle as thick as his own bear-skins piled six feet deep! There was no nonsense about that sort of work. "Catch any pert, saucy little flowers sticking up their heads through such a blanket!" said Frozen Nose to himself. "No, no; I've fixed 'em for a few years, anyhow. They're dead as door-nails, and Spring with all her airs and graces will never bring them to life again. Ugh! how I hate 'em and all sweet smells! Wish I might never have anything but whale-oil on my hair and handkerchiefs for the rest of my life!" "There's no fear but what you will, and stale at that," said the ugliest of his children, young Chilblain, giving his father's big toe a tweak as he passed, and grinning when he heard Frozen Nose grumble out, "There's the gout again, I do believe!"