and blooming until in
time we rise again as sprites from out their flowers."

"Then you were once another sprite?" asked Maya, tense,
breathless with interest.

The earnest eyes said yes.

"But I have forgotten my earlier existence. We forget everything
in our flower-sleep."

"Oh, what a lovely fate!"

"It is the same as that of all earthly creatures, when you
really come to think of it, even if it isn't always flowers out
of which they wake up from their sleep of death. But we won't
talk of that to-night."

"Oh, I'm so happy!" cried Maya.

"Then you haven't got a wish? You're the first person I've met,
you know, and I possess the power to grant your dearest wish."

"I? But I'm only a bee. No, it's too much. It would be too great
a joy. I don't deserve it, I don't deserve that you should be so
good to me."

"No one deserves the good and the beautiful. The good and the
beautiful come to us like the sunshine."

Maya's heart beat stormily. Oh, she did have a wish, a burning
wish, but she didn't dare confess it. The elf seemed to guess;
he smiled so you couldn't keep anything a secret from him.

"Well?" He stroked his golden hair off his pure forehead.

"I'd like to know human beings at their best and most
beautiful," said the little bee. She spoke quickly and hotly.
She was afraid she would be told that so great a wish could not
be granted.

But the sprite drew himself up, his expression was serious and
serene, his eyes shone with confidence. He took Maya's trembling
hand and said:

"Come. We'll fly together. Your wish shall be granted."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI

WITH THE SPRITE

And so Maya and the flower-sprite started off together in the
bright mid-summer night, flying low over the blossomy meadow.
His white reflection crossing the brook shone as though a star
were gliding through the water.

How happy the little bee was to confide herself to this gracious
being! Whatever he were to do, wherever he were to lead her
would be good and right, she felt. She would have liked to ask
him a thousand questions had she dared.

As they were passing between a double row of high poplar-trees,
something whirred above them; a dark moth, as big and strong as
a bird, crossed their way.

"One moment, wait one moment, please," the sprite called.

Maya was surprised to see how readily the moth responded.

All three alighted on a high poplar branch, from which there was