e, the little old man would
exclaim, "There, I told you so! an unfortunate young man, of surpassing
beauty, enchanted in this dreadful shape by a wicked fairy! That's plain
to be seen! No wonder he utters such cries of distress!" and then they
both groaned together, and waggled their heads, and blew their noses so
exactly in time with two yellow silk pocket handkerchiefs, that people
thought two fishmen must be blowing their horns at once. Did _you_
ever? Well, _I_ never did!

[Illustration: THE OLD MAN AND WOMAN LOOKING FOR FAIRIES.]

One fine morning the little old man and woman went out to take a walk on
the common; for the house stood right beside the road, in an empty field
of scrubby grass, with no fence round it. Just behind the house, to be
sure, was a paling, which enclosed a garden about as big as a good-sized
dining table, where the little old man and woman grew one or two
cabbages, two or three tomatuses, three or four potatuses, and four or
five radishes, for their own eating; but all the rest was just open
common. The old woman had a large basket in her hand, all ready to pop
down over any fairies she might see lying asleep in a bluebell, and the
old man was leaning heavily on his stick, as he was rather feeble, and,
besides, had the rheumatism in his big toe.

"Dear me, Timmy," said the old woman, "what a good thing it would be,
now, if we could only find a kind fairy who would move our house for us
somewhere nearer the village. Now that poor old Dobbin is dead--killed,
I've no doubt, by a wicked enchanter--we can no longer get around from
place to place without stirring a step from the house; and we are so far
away, that we can't walk over to take tea with any of our neighbors. Do
let us keep a sharp lookout as we walk along, and see if we can't find
a fairy ring or a fairy flower."

"With all my heart!" said Tim; and so they tottered along, peering very
hard into all the bushes, and hurrying to examine every little patch of
grass that looked greener and brighter than the rest, in the hope that
it was a fairy ring. All at once, the little old man stopped short, and
pointed with his stick at a beautiful spray of foxglove.

"There!" cried Mr. Timmens.

"Where?" cried Mrs. Timmens.

"Right before your eyes!" said the little old man. "Don't you see it? A
fairy foxglove, as my name is Timmy Timmens!"

"My goodness gracious, stars, and what's-his-names!" cried the little
old woman; "so there is! as su