ht," said Fairyfoot. "Why did she do it?"

"Mad," answered the little man--"that was what was the matter with her.
She was always losing her temper like that, and turning people into
awkward things, and then being sorry for it, and not being able to change
them back again. If you are a fairy, you have to be careful. If you'll
believe me, that woman once turned her second-cousin's sister-in-law into
a mushroom, and somebody picked her, and she was made into catsup, which
is a thing no man likes to have happen in his family!"

[Illustration: "WHY," EXCLAIMED FAIRYFOOT, "I'M SURPRISED!"]

"Of course not," said Fairyfoot, politely.

"The difficulty is," said the little man, "that some fairies don't
graduate. They learn to turn people into things, but they don't learn how
to unturn them; and then, when they get mad in their families--you know
how it is about getting mad in families--there is confusion. Yes,
seriously, confusion arises. It arises. That was the way with my
great-aunt's grandmother. She was not a cultivated old person, and she
did not know how to unturn people, and now you see the result. Quite
accidentally I trod on her favorite corn; she got mad and changed me into
a robin, and regretted it ever afterward. I could only become myself
again by a kind-hearted person's saving me from a great danger. You are
that person. Give me your hand."

Fairyfoot held out his hand. The little man looked at it.

"On second thought," he said, "I can't shake it--it's too large. I'll sit
on it, and talk to you."

With these words, he hopped upon Fairyfoot's hand, and sat down, smiling
and clasping his own hands about his tiny knees.

"I declare, it's delightful not to be a robin," he said. "Had to go about
picking up worms, you know. Disgusting business. I always did hate
worms. I never ate them myself--I drew the line there; but I had to get
them for my family."

Suddenly he began to giggle, and to hug his knees up tight.

"Do you wish to know what I'm laughing at?" he asked Fairyfoot.

"Yes," Fairyfoot answered.

The little man giggled more than ever.

"I'm thinking about my wife," he said--"the one I had when I was a robin.
A nice rage she'll be in when I don't come home to-night! She'll have to
hustle around and pick up worms for herself, and for the children too,
and it serves her right. She had a temper that would embitter the life of
a crow, much more a simple robin. I wore myself to skin and bone taking
car