a happy child; while Dart waved
his tail like a banner as he cried joyfully,--

"The Kobolds said it would be so because you tried so hard to be and do
good! Now you can go home and lead a happy life in Fairyland."

Bud could only clap her hands and laugh for joy, and try to see the
beautiful wings she had worked and waited for so long.

"Thank you very much for all your kindness to me, dear Dart; I will come
again and see you and the little men if I can. Now I must go and try to
fly before I set out for home," she said, and hastened to the door,
where wood violets were watching for her with eager blue eyes, while the
robins, wrens, and linnets sang to welcome her.

There was no need to learn how to fly; the lovely wings lifted her
lightly up, and away she went like a new-born butterfly glittering in
the sunshine. It was so delightful that she could hardly bear to come
down to the earth again; so she perched on a high branch of the old oak
and took a peep at Dart's home before she said good-by to him.

"How shall I find my way to Fairyland?" she asked, eager to be off, for
the longing was stronger than ever in her heart.

"I have come to show you the road," answered a shrill small voice, as a
splendid humming-bird lit on the branch beside her, its breast sparkling
like a jewel, and its long bill full of honey, while its quivering wings
made the softest music.

"I am ready! Good-by, dear friends! good-by, great world! I love you,
but I must go to my own people," cried Bud, and with a flash of the blue
and silver wings she was gone.

But for many a winter's night her story was told by the Kobolds as they
spun around their fire; and for many a long day did bird and bee,
beetle, ant, and flower, love and remember little Bud.

XI.

THE FLOWER'S STORY.

[Illustration: So they chose a sunny spot on a lonely moor, where the
earth was rich, and a brook kept it moist, and there they planted the
seeds and tended them carefully.--PAGE 257.]

Marion had been ill, and was still so weak that she had to lie on her
bed many hours each day trying to sleep and rest. One winter afternoon
when the snow fell quietly outside and the room was very still, with
Nurse dozing in her chair, the kitten purring on the rug, and nothing
new or pretty to look at but a bunch of pansies in a glass beside the
bed, Marion said to herself with a sigh,--

"If I only had some one to tell me a story I should be able to get
through this