d dinner with them, while their little
girl--Alice, they called her--took me round the gardens and grounds to
show me all the beauties of the place. Some preparations were going on
at the end of the lawn, which was opposite the front of the house; a
marquee was being erected, several swings were being put up, while the
lawn itself was being mowed. My conductress informed me these
preparations were to celebrate her birthday, which was the day after.

"In the evening, the squire himself walked to Ascot House with me,
where he saw the doctor's wife, and asked her to allow me to visit
them on the morrow, as his little girl was going to entertain a host
of young friends, the number of which would not be complete unless I
made one of them. Permission was given, and I went to bed to dream of
the pleasures the morrow was to bring.

"I was up early enough on the following morning, no such thing as
oversleeping one's-self when there was a prospect of pleasure in view.
(How well it would be if we--you and I, young reader--could be as
active when duty and not pleasure calls!) I oiled and scented my hair
to perfection, put on my best frilled shirt, made Jim, our odd boy,
polish my boots until he could see his face in them; discarded my
straw hat and took to the chimney-pot (_i.e._ my best beaver), saw
that there was not a speck of dirt on my clothes, viewed myself all
over in the glass, nearly dislocated my neck in trying to get a
glimpse of my back, but found my efforts fruitless; and finally put on
my best kid gloves, after which I found I had still two hours to
spare, and dinner to eat in the meantime.

"The time went by, and at length I set out for my destination, with
both a bounding heart and a bounding step, the one keeping pace with
the other, as though there existed some private agreement by which
they acted in unison, and fulfilled the requirements of the old
proverb, 'A light heart, a light step.'

"I was kindly welcomed by the squire and his lady, and by them
introduced to their two sons, who had returned the same day from
visiting friends; they both thanked me heartily for the service I had
rendered to their sister, whom, they said, they 'would not have had
hurt for the world.' This I could well believe, as I watched her
darting hither and thither, like a good little fairy, in and out among
her friends, with a word for one, a kiss for another, and a caress for
a third.

"'I am so glad you are come,' said the fairy