was gone.

I looked about in all directions for the little creature, but there was
no trace of her--and my "eerie" feeling was quite gone off, and the
crickets were chirping again merrily, so I knew she was really gone.

And now I've got time to tell you the rule about the crickets. They
always leave off chirping when a fairy goes by, because a fairy's a
kind of queen over them, I suppose; at all events, it's a much grander
thing than a cricket; so whenever you're walking out, and the crickets
suddenly leave off chirping, you may be sure that either they see a
fairy, or else they're frightened at your coming so near.

I walked on sadly enough, you may be sure. However, I comforted myself
with thinking, "It's been a very wonderful afternoon, so far; I'll just
go quietly on and look about me, and I shouldn't wonder if I come
across another fairy somewhere."

Peering about in this way, I happened to notice a plant with rounded
leaves, and with queer little holes cut out in the middle of several of
them. "Ah! the leaf-cutter bee," I carelessly remarked; you know I am
very learned in natural history (for instance, I can always tell
kittens from chickens at one glance); and I was passing on, when a
sudden thought made me stoop down and examine the leaves more
carefully.

Then a little thrill of delight ran through me, for I noticed that the
holes were all arranged so as to form letters; there were three leaves
side by side, with "B," "R" and "U" marked on them, and after some
search I found two more, which contained an "N" and an "O."

By this time the "eerie" feeling had all come back again, and I
suddenly observed that no crickets were chirping; so I felt quite sure
that "Bruno" was a fairy, and that he was somewhere very near.

And so indeed he was--so near that I had very nearly walked over him
without seeing him; which would have been dreadful, always supposing
that fairies _can_ be walked over; my own belief is that they are
something of the nature of will-o'-the-wisps, and there's no walking
over _them_.

Think of any pretty little boy you know, rather fat, with rosy cheeks,
large dark eyes, and tangled brown hair, and then fancy him made small
enough to go comfortably into a coffee-cup, and you'll have a very fair
idea of what the little creature was like.

"What's your name, little fellow?" I began, in as soft a voice as I
could manage. And, by the way, that's another of the curious things in
life that I