came a steep bank sloping down to Big Run
which, a little further on, emptied into the river.

It was a wild, romantic spot and full of charm for the two little girls
whose fancies pictured all sorts of possible things. The hollows, in the
scraggy willows bending over the stream, might be the hiding-places of
nymphs or fairies; yonder soft sward dotted with buttercups and daisies,
might be the favorite spot for a midnight revel; among those rocks
queer little gnomes might live. Florence was especially struck with it
all. She had never been quite so near to such a picturesque spot, and
now nothing would do but that they should climb the fence and explore
further.

"There isn't a soul anywhere to be seen," said Florence, "and it will be
perfectly safe."

"Suppose we should meet a fierce dog," Dimple, a little more cautious,
suggested.

"Oh, no, we're not likely to at all. Dogs are not going to such a place
as that, at least, I don't think so. It would be perfectly fine to go
out on one of those willow trees, and hang our feet over the water."

"Suppose we should slip and fall in."

"Oh, we'll be careful; besides the branches of the trees hang so far
over the stream that we couldn't fall very far, anyhow, and it is very
shallow there. We'll only get a wetting and it's such a hot day I
shouldn't mind if we did. If we should sit there very quietly we might
see fairies."

"Do you believe there are fairies, really?"

"Why, yes,--I'm not sure. There may be, you know. Wouldn't it be funny
to see a tiny little being, in a red cloak or a spun-silver robe, come
out from the hollow of a tree and say, 'Maiden, your wish shall be
granted'?"

"What wish?"

"Any wish we happen to be making at the time. Come on, Dimple, I am just
crazy to go." And Florence put her foot on the fence and was soon over,
Dimple following.

It was not so easy as it seemed, to get out on the trees, and they
decided not to attempt it, but thought they would wander along the brink
of the stream, and in doing this they discovered all sorts of wonderful
things in what Florence called the Fairy Dell: moss-grown rocks from
which sprung tiny bell-shaped flowers; a circle of wee pink toadstools,
which indeed seemed fit for the elfin folk; a wild grapevine with a most
delightfully arranged swing on which the two girls "teetered" away in
great joy; shining pebbles, bits of rose-colored quartz, a forest of
plumy ferns, and all such like things, over which