ing of this for a month or more,
though it must have begun almost at once.

"I blame myself for it, myself only. I ought, of course, to have
remembered that children are more likely to see fairies than
grown-ups; but then--why did Florrie keep it all secret? Why did she
not tell her mother, or me, that she had seen a fairy in Bran's
kennel? The child was as open as the day, yet she concealed her
knowledge from both of us without the least difficulty. She seemed the
same careless, laughing child she had always been; one could not have
supposed her to have a care in the world, and yet, for nearly six
months she must have been full of care, having daily secret
intercourse with Thumbeline and keeping her eyes open all the time
lest her mother or I should find her out. Certainly she could have
taught me something in the way of keeping secrets. I know that I kept
mine very badly, and blame myself more than enough for keeping it at
all. God knows what we might have been spared if, on the night I
brought her home, I had told Mary the whole truth! And yet--how could
I have convinced her that she was impaling some one with her arm
while her hand rested on the bar of the bicycle? Is not that an
absurdity on the face of it? Yes, indeed; but the sequel is no
absurdity. That's the terrible fact.

"I kept Thumbeline in the kennel for the whole winter. She seemed
happy enough there with the dogs, and, of course, she had had Florrie,
too, though I did not find that out until the spring. I don't doubt,
now, that if I had kept her in there altogether she would have been
perfectly contented.

"The first time I saw Florrie with her I was amazed. It was a Sunday
morning. There was our four-year-old child standing at the wire,
pressing herself against it, and Thumbeline close to her. Their faces
almost touched; their fingers were interlaced; I am certain that they
were speaking to each other in their own fashion, by flashes, without
words. I watched them for a bit; I saw Bran come and sit up on his
haunches and join in. He looked from one to another, and all about;
and then he saw me.

"Now that is how I know that they were all three in communication;
because, the very next moment, Florrie turned round and ran to me, and
said in her pretty baby-talk, 'Talking to Bran. Florrie talking to
Bran.' If this was wilful deceit it was most accomplished. It could
not have been better done. 'And who else were you talking to,
Florrie?' I said. She