ose front doors," advised Grandmother,
"because Mrs. Wasp lives there, and might not understand; although if
you let her alone she will not hurt you. Just let me tell you something
about her."

So Lindsay listened while Grandmother told the story:--

Once there was a little elf, who lived in the heart of a bright red
rose, just like the roses we have been talking about.

There were many other elves who lived in the garden. One, who lived in a
lily which made a lovely home; and a poppy elf, who was always sleepy;
but the rose elf liked her own sweet smelling room, with its crimson
curtains, best of all.

Now the rose elf had a very dear friend, a little girl named Polly. She
could not speak to her, for fairies can only talk to people like you and
me in dreams and fancies, but she loved Polly very much, and would lie
in her beautiful rose room, and listen to Polly's singing, till her
heart was glad.

One day as she listened she said to herself, "If I cannot speak to
Polly, I can write her a letter;" and this pleased her so much that she
called over to the lily elf to ask what she should write it on. "I
always write my letters on rose petals, and get the wind to take them,"
said the rose elf. "But I am afraid Polly would not understand that."

"I will tell you," answered the lily elf, "what I would do. I would go
right to Mrs. Wasp, and ask her to give me a piece of paper."

"But Mrs. Wasp is very cross, I've heard," said the rose elf timidly.

"Never believe the gossip that you hear. If Mrs. Wasp does seem to be a
little stingy, I'm sure she has a good heart," replied the lily elf. So
the rose elf took courage, and flew to Mrs. Wasp's house, where, by good
fortune, she found Mrs. Wasp at home.

"Good morning Mrs. Wasp," called the little elf, "I've come to see if
you will kindly let me have a sheet of paper to-day."

"Now," said the wasp, "I have just papered my house with the last bit of
paper I had, but if you can wait, I will make you a sheet."

Then the rose elf knew that Mrs. Wasp had a kind heart; and she waited
and watched with a great deal of interest while Mrs. Wasp set to work.
Now, close by her house was an old bit of dry wood, and Mrs. Wasp sawed
it into fine bits, like thread, with her two sharp saws that she carries
about her. Then she wet these bits well with some glue from her mouth,
and rolled them into a round ball.

"Oh, Mrs. Wasp!" cried the rose elf, "I'm afraid I am putting you to too
m