ena saw in front of her a high wall of bright green
grass, with steps cut in it.

"'Up here,' said her little friend, 'are our fish-ponds. Would you like
to see them?'

"Lena nodded her head. She was getting quite used to wonderful things,
but the more she saw the more she wanted to see. She followed the little
man up the steps, and when she got to the top she stood silent with
surprise and delight. Of all the pretty wonders he had shown her, what
she now saw was the prettiest. Six tiny lakes lay before her, and in
each a fountain rose sparkling and dancing. And the fish that were in
each lake rose up with the waters of the fountain and glided down them
again as if almost they had wings. In each pond the fish were of
different colours. There were, let me see, six ponds, did I not say?
Yes--well in the first the fish were gold, in the second silver, in the
third bronze; and in the three others even prettier, for in them the
fish were ruby, emerald, and topaz. I mean they were of those colours,
and in the water they gleamed as if they were made of the precious
stones themselves. Lena gazed at them in perfect delight, and held out
her hands so that the spray from the fountains fell on them, half hoping
that by chance some of the fish might drop into her fingers by mistake.

"The little man looked at her and smiled, but shook his head.

"'No,' he said, as if he knew what she was thinking, 'no, you cannot
catch them, just as you could not have gathered the flowers.'

"Lena looked disappointed.

"'I would so like to take some of them home,' she said, gently.

"'It cannot be, child,' said the little man. 'They would have neither
life nor colour out of their own waters. There are many, many more
things to show you, but I fear the time is over. I must take you home
before the moon sets.'

"'But mayn't I come again?' said Lena. She had not time to hear the
little man's answer, for again there came the quick rushing sound of the
quantities and quantities of little feet, and again a sort of cloudy
feeling came over Lena. She tried to speak again to the brownie, but her
voice seemed to have no sound, and all she heard was his shrill whistle.
It grew shriller and shriller till at last it got to sound not a whistle
at all, but more like a cock's crow. And just then Lena opened her eyes,
which she did not know were closed, and what do you think she saw? The
morning sun peeping in at the lattice-window of her bedroom, and
light