About him were many voices, and there were points of light and trails, and flashes of gold, such as the silver fish had scattered in the water. There was darkness, too, reaching beneath to clutch him. The grubbiest grub clung tightly to the shaft of green. "What am I doing here? What am I doing here?" he asked himself, and his back ached and his sides ached, and his heart was numb with aching. "Why, you are waiting for the morning," said a little voice beside him. "Don't be frightened. I've seen your kind before. You came up from the mud, and if you wait till daylight you'll have wings and fly away. The children in the big house will clap their hands and say, "Look, look, another dragon-fly! Your wings are like rainbows." "You can't be laughing at me," said the grubbiest grub; "your voice is kind." "Why should I laugh?" said the little voice. "I am one of the grass-blade spirits, and I love all things with wings." "But I have no wings," said the grubby grub, "and it seems darker." "No, no," said the grass-blade spirit. "It's only the moon gone for a moment. But, oh!" she cried, as the moon flickered through on the broad green shaft again, "your shell has broken open." And sure enough, there sat a pale wisp of a dragon-fly in the moonlight. "But I have no wings," he cried in disappointment. "I cannot fly." "Only wait," said the grass-blade spirit, and he waited in eager, trembling excitement. He waited while the stars turned round the heavens and the moon sank. Then his heart lifted up, and he felt his wings, and he flew. He flew, trembling, quivering, white but touched with iridescent colour, on, on above the pointed shaft, on still in the dawn. The grass-blade spirit watched. "Yes! yes!" he cried from below; "splendid—O beautiful spirit—but higher!" Higher he went, and then he sank exhausted. "You have found your dream," cried the grass-blade spirit, as the dragon-fly felt the warmth about him. He opened his eyes. He saw blue and gold and yellow of sunlight flashing in the dawn. About him was fragrance and rest and peace. "I love you," said the iris flower, where he had fallen; "and I have waited for you—it is day." So the poor grub, with the funny, blinking eyes and the puffy face had fallen on the petals of a great sweet iris flower. Of course, as you know, every flower is the house of a fairy. And this house was a palace of blue flowers veined in gold, and blue fringes and tassels in the inmost inner room, where the wonderful fairy lived who was the flower princess. The iris-flower princess rose from her couch of lavender and gold. It was then that she said, "I have waited for you—it is day." And it was day, sparkling and gleaming on all the grass-blades. The grubbiest grub—who was a dragon-fly prince now, in green velvet and a silken cloak, shimmering like wings behind him—and the flower princess stood on the flower palace steps, and looked out across the grass-blades.