Without finishing his sentence he unfolded a pink parasol and tossed it into the air. It sailed away, slowly at first, then more rapidly as the light wind caught it and carried it out of sight beyond the lilac-bush. “I won’t need it till it begins to rain,” he explained, “so they might as well have it.” “Who?” gasped Billy. “The sunbeams. If a sunbeam gets wet he’s done for. Haven’t you ever noticed that?” Billy thought he had noticed something of the kind. Anyway the sunbeams all disappeared directly it began to rain. But being just an ordinary little boy, he was much more interested in the conversation of the wonderful stranger than he was in sunbeams, and that is why he asked: “What is your name, if you please?” “My name is Nimbus and I live in the clouds with the other fairies. I was named after one of the clouds.” “But,” objected Billy, “I don’t believe in fairies.” “Very well,” said Nimbus briskly, “keep right on don’t believing. It doesn’t disturb me in the least.” “And besides,” said Billy, “there couldn’t be such a thing as a Geography Fairy.” “How do you know?” demanded Nimbus. “Because,” said Billy, “I have never seen one.” “Nonsense!” returned Nimbus. “Did you ever see a noise?” “No,” Billy admitted, “I don’t think I ever did. At least I don’t remember ever having seen one.” “Well, do you believe that there _aren’t_ any noises?” Billy had no reply that seemed suitable, and so he said nothing. Apparently not caring whether he got an answer or not, Nimbus leaped lightly from the lilac blossom and, picking up an irregular sunbeam that filtered through the bush, he set it carefully on edge against the brim of Billy’s hat. [Illustration: “We’ll take this sunbeam with us”] “They get tired lying flat on their backs so much,” he said. “We’ll take this one with us when we go. When we’re hungry we’ll eat it.” “But we’re not going anywhere,” said Billy. “At least _I_ am not. I’ve got to go into the house and put the toys away in a few minutes.” “Tut! tut!” said Nimbus. “Doesn’t the proverb say ‘Never do anything to-day you can just as well put off until to-morrow’? Let’s enchant a trolley car and go look after the Equator. I ought to be there now. That’s my job, looking after the Equator. I’ve left the Equine Ox there, but he has such a habit of getting indigestion in one of his four stomachs, and sometimes in all of them, that he is very inattentive to business.” “Indigestion in four stomachs must be terribly distressing,” said Billy. “But what is an Equine Ox?” “You surely see one twice a year,” said Nimbus. “But they are always around. They have to be somewhere.” “I suppose they do,” said Billy, “but what are they?” “Their names are Vernal and Autumnal. Here’s a poem I wrote about them once. My friends say I am conceited about my poetry, but I’m not. I don’t think it is as good as it really is.”