of yours!" he said to her father,
when Eyebright had gone upstairs with the tray. "She seems all
imagination, and yet she has a practical turn, too. It's an odd
mixture. We don't often get the two things combined in one child."

"No, you don't," replied Mr. Bright. "Sometimes I think she has too
much imagination. Her head is stuffed with all sorts of notions picked
up out of books, and you'd think, to hear her talk, that she hadn't an
idea beyond a fairy-tale. But she has plenty of common sense, too, and
is more helpful and considerate than most children of her age. Wealthy
says she is really useful to her, and has quite an idea of cooking and
housekeeping. I'm puzzled at her myself sometimes. She seems two
different children rolled into one."

"Well, if that is the case, I see no need to regret her vivid
imagination," replied his friend. "A quick fancy helps people along
wonderfully. Imagination is like a big sail. When there's nothing
underneath it's risky; but with plenty of ballast to hold the vessel
steady, it's an immense advantage and not a danger."

Eyebright came in just then, and as a matter of course went back to
her perch upon her new friend's knee.

"Do you know a great many stories?" she asked suggestively.

"I know a good many. I make them up for Charley sometimes."

"I wish you'd tell me one."

"It will have to be a short one then," said Mr. Joyce, glancing at his
watch. "Bright, will you see about having my horse brought round? I
must be off in ten minutes or so." Then, turning to Eyebright,--"I'll
tell you about Peter and the Wolves, if you like. That's the shortest
story I know."

"Oh, do! I like stories about wolves so much," said Eyebright,
settling herself comfortably to listen.

"Little Peter lived with his grandmother in a wood," began Mr. Joyce
in a prompt way, as of one who has a good deal of business to get
through in brief time.

"They lived all alone. He hadn't any other boys to play with, but once
in a great while his grandmother let him go to the other side of the
wood, where some boys lived, and play with them. Peter was glad when
his grandmother said he might go.

"One day in the autumn, he said: 'Grandmother, may I go and see
William and Jack?' Those were the names of the other boys.

"'Yes,' she said, 'you can go, if you will promise to come home at
four o'clock. It gets dark early, and I am afraid to have you in the
wood later than that.'

"So Peter promised. He had a