d is poisonous, and it was not at all what
was wanted. And finally the children grew tired of looking for it and
gave it up.

But there lived on the island a little girl, too small yet to go to
school. Her father had served in the dragoons, and owned a little farm,
but he was rather poor than rich. His only treasure was his little
daughter, whom everybody in the village called "Little Bluewing,"
because she always wore a ski blue dress with wide sleeves, which
fluttered like wings when she moved. There is, by the bye, a little blue
butterfly whom the people call bluewing; you can see it in the summer
sitting on the tall blades of the grass, and its wings resemble a flax
blossom; a fluttering flax blossom with antenna instead of filaments.

Little Bluewing, the dragoon's little bluewing, that is, was not like
other children; she always talked very sensibly, but she often said
queer things, and everybody was puzzled to know where she got them from.
All living things loved her, even the animals; fowls and calves ran up
to her when they saw her, and she even dared to stroke the bull. She
frequently went out by herself and stayed away a long time, but when
anybody asked her where she had been, she could not tell. But she had
had the most wonderful adventures; she had seen strange things; she had
met venerable old men and women, who ha told her no end of wonderful
stories. The dragoon let her do as she liked, for he knew that a
guardian spirit was watching over her.

***

One morning Little Bluewing went out for a walk. She ran through fields
and meadows, singing songs which nobody had ever heard, and which came
into her heart from nowhere. The morning sun shone brightly and seemed
so young, as if it had only just been born; the air was fresh and sweet,
and the evaporating dew cooled her little face.

When she came to the wood, she met an old man in a green dress.

"Good morning, Little Bluewing," said the old man, "I am the gardener at
Sunnyglade; come and look at my flowers."

"Too much honour for me," answered Little Bluewing.

"Not at all, for you have never ill-used flowers."

They walked together to the strand and crossed a little bridge, which
led to an islet.

On the islet was a wonderful garden. Every flower, large and small, grew
there, and everything was in order, just as if the garden had been a
book.

The old man lived in a house which was built of growing ever-green
trees-pines, fir trees, and juni