But, when they try it, they get just the same answer as Tom did. For, when he asked the second fairy, she told him just what the first did, and in the very same words. Tom was very unhappy at that. And, when Ellie went home on Sunday, he fretted and cried all day, and did not care to listen to the fairy’s stories about good children, though they were prettier than ever. Indeed, the more he overheard of them, the less he liked to listen, because they were all about children who did what they did not like, and took trouble for other people, and worked to feed their little brothers and sisters instead of caring only for their play. And, when she began to tell a story about a holy child in old times, who was martyred by the heathen because it would not worship idols, Tom could bear no more, and ran away and hid among the rocks. And, when Ellie came back, he was shy with her, because he fancied she looked down on him, and thought him a coward. And then he grew quite cross with her, because she was superior to him, and did what he could not do. And poor Ellie was quite surprised and sad; and at last Tom burst out crying; but he would not tell her what was really in his mind. And all the while he was eaten up with curiosity to know where Ellie went to; so that he began not to care for his playmates, or for the sea-palace or anything else. But perhaps that made matters all the easier for him; for he grew so discontented with everything round him that he did not care to stay, and did not care where he went. “Well,” he said, at last, “I am so miserable here, I’ll go; if only you will go with me?” “Ah!” said Ellie, “I wish I might; but the worst of it is, that the fairy says that you must go alone if you go at all. Now don’t poke that poor crab about, Tom” (for he was feeling very naughty and mischievous), “or the fairy will have to punish you.” Tom was very nearly saying, “I don’t care if she does;” but he stopped himself in time. “I know what she wants me to do,” he said, whining most dolefully. “She wants me to go after that horrid old Grimes. I don’t like him, that’s certain. And if I find him, he will turn me into a chimney-sweep again, I know. That’s what I have been afraid of all along.” “No, he won’t—I know as much as that. Nobody can turn water-babies into sweeps, or hurt them at all, as long as they are good.” “Ah,” said naughty Tom, “I see what you want; you are persuading me all along to go, because you are tired of me, and want to get rid of me.” Little Ellie opened her eyes very wide at that, and they were all brimming over with tears. “Oh, Tom, Tom!” she said, very mournfully—and then she cried, “Oh, Tom! where are you?” And Tom cried, “Oh, Ellie, where are you?” For neither of them could see each other—not the least. Little Ellie vanished quite away, and Tom heard her voice calling him, and growing smaller and smaller, and fainter and fainter, till all was silent.