sails of the boat, which was
now shooting swiftly away from the shore; but at the question he looked
up and pointed towards the top of the steps with his golden wand.

Grace looked and saw a lovely little temple built of inlaid coloured
marbles.

"Is that really the back of our dear old black cabinet?" she cried. "How
pretty it is! I wonder why we have never found it out."

"Everything has two sides," said the old man, "and one is always more
beautiful than the other; and, strange to say, the best side is
generally hidden. It can always be found if people wish for it; but as a
rule they don't care to take the trouble."

Grace looked very earnestly into the priest's face while he spoke; and
after he had finished she was so long silent that at last he asked,
"What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about your face," she answered. "You won't think me
rude, will you?"

"No, certainly not."

"Well, of course, you are just my dear old Indian priest, with the
strange, dark face and nice white beard, exactly like I have always
known you, only ever so much bigger and taller; and I'm sure that long
wand is much finer than the little gold bar you generally hold; but I
can't help thinking you are just a little like my mother's Uncle Jacob,
who left us the Magic Cabinet. I have often looked at him in the album,
and your eyes have a look in them like his. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," answered the old man, smiling kindly; and then he went
back to the sails again, because the boat was nearing a little island.

"Are we going to get out here?" asked Grace.

"Yes; you want me to do something for you, don't you?" And then,
without waiting for an answer, he pulled some silken cords, which folded
up the purple sails like the wings of a resting-bird, and the boat
grounded gently, and without the slightest shock, on a mossy bank.

Taking the little girl in his arms, the old man sprang ashore. Bright
flowers and ripe fruits grew in abundance on this fairy-like island, and
birds of gorgeous plumage flew hither and thither, filling the sunny air
with music.

But the old priest did not seem to notice any of these things. He led
Grace by the hand up the mossy bank, and through a thicket of flowering
shrubs into a glade, in the centre of which he halted and said, "Now,
what is it to be?"

"Oh, I can't choose," said Grace, looking eagerly up into his face. "You
know I want mother to be quite well; and I don't want y