s happen together, you've a good chance of seeing
a fairy--or at least a much better chance than if they didn't.

The one I'm going to tell you about was a real, naughty little fairy.
Properly speaking, there were two of them, and one was naughty and one
was good, but perhaps you would have found that out for yourself.

Now we really _are_ going to begin the story.

It was Tuesday afternoon, about half-past three,--it's always best to
be particular as to dates,--and I had wandered down into the wood by
the lake, partly because I had nothing to do, and that seemed to be a
good place to do it in, and partly (as I said at first) because it was
too hot to be comfortable anywhere, except under trees.

The first thing I noticed, as I went lazily along through an open place
in the wood, was a large beetle lying struggling on its back, and I
went down directly on one knee to help the poor thing on its feet
again. In some things, you know, you can't be quite sure what an insect
would like; for instance, I never could quite settle, supposing I were
a moth, whether I would rather be kept out of the candle, or be allowed
to fly straight in and get burnt; or, again, supposing I were a spider,
I'm not sure if I should be _quite_ pleased to have my web torn down,
and the fly let loose; but I feel quite certain that, if I were a
beetle and had rolled over on my back, I should always be glad to be
helped up again.

So, as I was saying, I had gone down on one knee, and was just reaching
out a little stick to turn the beetle over, when I saw a sight that
made me draw back hastily and hold my breath, for fear of making any
noise and frightening the little creature away.

Not that she looked as if she would be easily frightened; she seemed so
good and gentle that I'm sure she would never expect that any one could
wish to hurt her. She was only a few inches high, and was dressed in
green, so that you really would hardly have noticed her among the long
grass; and she was so delicate and graceful that she quite seemed to
belong to the place, almost as if she were one of the flowers. I may
tell you, besides, that she had no wings (I don't believe in fairies
with wings), and that she had quantities of long brown hair and large,
earnest brown eyes, and then I shall have done all I can to give you an
idea of what she was like.

Sylvie (I found out her name afterward) had knelt down, just as I was
doing, to help the beetle; but it needed mor