r, Tyltyl soon said politely:

"You are rather like our neighbor, Madame Berlingot...."

[Illustration: She herself helped Mytyl]

Tyltyl thought that, in saying this, he was paying the Fairy a
compliment; for Madame Berlingot's shop, which was next door to their
cottage, was a very pleasant place. It was stocked with sweets,
marbles, chocolate cigars and sugar dolls and hens; and, at fair-time,
there were big gingerbread dolls covered all over with gilt paper.
Goody Berlingot had a nose that was quite as ugly as the Fairy's; she
was old also; and, like the Fairy, she walked doubled up in two; but
she was very kind and she had a dear little girl who used to play on
Sundays with the woodcutter's Children. Unfortunately, the poor little
pretty, fair-haired thing was always suffering from some unknown
complaint, which often kept her in bed. When this happened, she
used to beg and pray for Tyltyl's dove to play with; but Tyltyl was
so fond of the bird that he would not give it to her. All this,
thought the little boy, was very like that which the Fairy told him;
and that was why he called her Berlingot.

Much to his surprise, the Fairy turned crimson with rage. It was a
hobby of hers to be like nobody, because she was a fairy and able to
change her appearance, from one moment to the next, as she pleased.
That evening, she happened to be ugly and old and hump-backed; she had
lost one of her eyes; and two lean wisps of grey hair hung over her
shoulders.

"What do I look like?" she asked Tyltyl. "Am I pretty or ugly? Old or
young?"

Her reason for asking these questions was to try the kindness of the
little boy. He turned away his head and dared not say what he thought
of her looks. Then she cried:

"I am the Fairy Berylune!"

"Oh, that's all right!" answered Tyltyl, who, by this time, was
shaking in every limb.

This satisfied the Fairy; and, as the Children were still in their
night-shirts, she told them to get dressed. She herself helped Mytyl
and, while she did so, asked:

"Where are your Father and Mother?"

"In there," said Tyltyl, pointing to the door on the right. "They're
asleep."

"And your Grandad and Granny?"

"They're dead...."

"And your little brothers and sisters.... Have you any?..."

"Oh, yes, three little brothers!" said Tyltyl.

"And four little sisters," added Mytyl.

"Where are they?" asked the Fairy.

"They are dead, too," answered Tyltyl.

"Would you like to see them again?"