Nearer and nearer came the steps, the lilacs rustled as if shaken, and presently the roll of paper vanished. A pause, and then the little voice exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise,-- "Why, there's a hole! I never saw it before. Oh! I can see the street. How nice! how nice!" "She likes the hole! I wonder if she will like me?" And, emboldened by these various successes, Johnny took another peep. This was the most delicious one of all; for he looked right into a great blue eye, with glimpses of golden hair above, a little round nose in the middle, and red lips below. It was like a flash of sunshine, and Johnny winked, as if dazzled; for the eye sparkled, the nose sniffed daintily, and the pretty mouth broke into a laugh as the voice cried out delightedly,-- "I see some one! Who are you? Come and tell me!" "I'm Johnny Morris," answered the boy, quite trembling with pleasure. "Did you make this nice hole?" "I just poked a brick, and it fell out." "Papa won't mind. Is that your bird?" "No; it's me. I whistled." "It's very pretty. Do it again," commanded the voice, as if used to give orders. Johnny obeyed; and when he paused, out of breath, a small hand came through the hole, grasping as many lilies of the valley as it could hold, and the Princess graciously expressed her pleasure by saying,-- "I like it; you shall do it again, by and by. Here are some flowers for you. Now we will talk. Are you a nice boy?" This was a poser; and Johnny answered meekly, with his nose luxuriously buried in the lovely flowers,-- "Not very,--I'm lame; I can't play like other fellers." "_Porverino_!" sighed the little voice, full of pity; and, in a moment, three red-and-yellow tulips fell at Johnny's feet, making him feel as if he really had slipped into fairy-land through that delightful hole. "Oh, thank you! Aren't they just elegant? I never see such beauties," stammered the poor boy, grasping his treasures as if he feared they might vanish away. "You shall have as many as you like. Nanna will scold, but papa won't mind. Tell me more. What do you do over there?" asked the child, eagerly. "Nothing but paste pictures and make books, when I don't ache too bad. I used to help mother; but I got hurt, and I can't do much now," answered the boy, ashamed to mention how many laces he patiently picked or clapped, since it was all he could do to help. "If you like pictures, you shall come and see mine some day. I do a great many. Papa shows me how. His are splendid. Do you draw or paint yours?" "I only cut 'em out of papers, and stick 'em on this wall or put 'em in scrap-books. I can't draw, and I haven't got no paints," answered Johnny. "You should say 'haven't any paints.' I will come and see you some day; and if I like you, I will let you have my old paint-box. Do you want it?" "Guess I do!" "I think I _shall_ like you; so I'll bring it when I come. Do you ache much?" "Awfully, sometimes. Have to lay down all day, and can't do a thing." "Do you cry?"