almost ever since he could recollect anything. He made some cynical remarks prompted by his manhood, but it was like much manly cynicism, only from the lips, no deeper. “I thought fairies were all dead,” he said. “Oh, Nello; when you know they are spirits and never die! they are hundreds and hundreds of years older than we are, but they never die; and it is always children that see them. I thought she would tell us to do something----” “I would not do something,” said Nello; “I would say, ‘Old woman, do it yourself.’” “And do you know what would happen then?” said Lilias, severely; “whenever you opened your mouth, a toad or a frog would drop out of it.” “I should not mind; how funny it would be! how the people would be surprised.” “They would be frightened--fancy! every word you said; till all round there would be things creeping and creeping and crawling all over you; slimy cold things that would make people shiver and shriek. Oh!” said Lilias recoiling and putting up her hands, as if to put him away; “the frogs! squatting and jumping all over the floor.” At this lively realization of his problematical punishment, Nello himself grew pale, and nervously looked about him. “I would kill her!” he cried, furiously; “what right would she have to do that to me?” “Because you did not obey her, Nello.” “And why should I obey her?” cried the boy; “she is not papa, or Martuccia--or Mary.” “But we must always do what the fairies tell us,” said Lilias, “not perhaps because they have a right--for certainly it is different with papa--but because they would hurt us if we didn’t; and then if you are good and pick up the sticks, or draw the water from the well, then she gives you such beautiful presents. Oh! I will do whatever she tells _me_.” “What kind of presents, Lily? I want a little horse to ride--there are a great many things that I want. Do fairies give you what you want, or only what they like?” This was a puzzling question; and on the spur of the moment Lilias did not feel able to answer such a difficulty. “If you do it for the presents, not because they ask you, they will not give you anything,” she said; “that would be all wrong if you did it for the presents.” “But you said----” “Oh, Nello; you are too little, you don’t understand,” cried the elder sister, like many another perplexed authority; “when you are older you will know what I mean. I can tell you things, but I can’t make you understand?” “What is it he cannot understand?” said Mary, coming suddenly upon their confidential talk. The two children came apart hastily, and Lilias, who had two red spots of excitement on her cheeks, looked up startled, with lips apart. Nello laughed with a sense of mischief. He was fond of his sister, but to get her into trouble had a certain flavour of fun in it, not disagreeable to him. “It is about the fairies,” he cried, volubly. “She says you should do what they tell you. She says they give you beautiful presents. She says, she----”