"Are You Comfortable?" Inquired the Cuckoo 71 He Flapped His Wings, And Instantly a Palanquin Appeared at the Foot of the Steps 88 She Peered in with Great Satisfaction 153 "But I May See You Again," Said Phil 177 It Was Rowed by a Little Figure 224 "Now, these little folks, like most girls and boys, Loved fairy tales even better than toys. * * * * * And they knew that in flowers on the spray Tiny spirits are hidden away, That frisk at night on the forest green, When earth is bathed in dewy sheen-- And shining halls of pearl and gem, The Regions of Fancy--were open to them." "... just as any little child has been guided towards the true paradise by its fairy dreams of bliss."--E. A. Abbott. I THE OLD HOUSE [Illustration] "Somewhat back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country seat." Once upon a time in an old town, in an old street, there stood a very old house. Such a house as you could hardly find nowadays, however you searched, for it belonged to a gone-by time--a time now quite passed away. It stood in a street, but yet it was not like a town house, for though the front opened right on to the pavement, the back windows looked out upon a beautiful, quaintly terraced garden, with old trees growing so thick and close together that in summer it was like living on the edge of a forest to be near them; and even in winter the web of their interlaced branches hid all clear view behind. There was a colony of rooks in this old garden. Year after year they held their parliaments and cawed and chattered and fussed; year after year they built their nests and hatched their eggs; year after year, I _suppose_, the old ones gradually died off and the young ones took their place, though, but for knowing this _must_ be so, no one would have suspected it, for to all appearance the rooks were always the same--ever and always the same. Time indeed seemed to stand still in and all about the old house, as if it and the people who inhabited it had got _so_ old that they could not get any older, and had outlived the possibility of change. But one day at last there did come a change. Late in the dusk of an autumn afternoon a carriage drove up to the door of the old house, came rattling over the stones with a sudden noisy clatter that sounded quite impertinent, startling the rooks just as they were composing themselves to rest, and setting them all wondering what could be the matter. A little girl was the matter! A little girl in a grey merino frock, and grey beaver bonnet, grey tippet and grey gloves--all grey together, even to her eyes, all except her round rosy face and bright brown hair. Her name even was rather grey, for it was Griselda.