tle, so old, English like me,
but with the manner of the great world. When he sat down he took care
not to hurt one of my flowers.

"I fear I'm trespassing," he said, "in your royal gardens. May I
introduce myself? My name is Nisted--Jared Nisted, once an army
chaplain, now a tourist."

Was he real, or had I imagined him? "My name is Kate," I answered. "My
husband would be ever so pleased to make you welcome. But he's away."

"And are you lonely?"

"Not now." Somehow the pain and fear were gone as though they dared not
stay in the serene presence of this dear old saint. "Are you sure," I
ventured, "that you're not a--"

"Fairy? Believe me, dear lady, I'm a very commonplace little person.

"A humble admirer of yours, one Tearful George, has been kind enough to
bring me here in his buck-board, which has complaining wheels, a creaky
body, and such a wheezy horse. He, Tearful George I mean, contracted for
seventy-five dollars to bring me to paradise and back; but as we creaked
our passage through that weird black forest, I feared my guide had taken
the pathway which leads to the other place. I confess, the upper forest
frightened me, and now, having come to paradise, I don't want to go
back." He sighed. "George," he added, "is making camp up yonder. Mrs.
Smith, will you laugh at me very much if I tell you a fairy tale? It's
quite a nice one."

"Oh, do!" I begged.

"Well," he began, "you know where the three birch trees are all using a
single pool as their mirror?"

Of course these were the Three Graces. Mrs. O'Flynn and I had known for
months past that the spot was haunted.

"Each of them," said my visitor, "seems to think the others quite
superfluous."

That was true. I asked him if any one was there.

"A lady, yes."

"That's the minx," I whispered. "She's a fairy. But don't tell my
husband. You know he laughs at me for being so superstitious."

"Indeed. Fact is, Mrs. Smith, she was bathing, and George insisted, most
stupidly I think, on watering his horse at that pool. I mounted guard,
with my back turned, of course, and tried to persuade the good man to
water his horse elsewhere. He couldn't see any sanguinary lady in the
rosy pool, and you know the poor fellow has but a very meager choice of
words. He reviled me, and my progenitors, and if you'll believe me, my
dear mother was not at all the sort of person George described. He made
me feel so plain, too, with his candor about my personal appearance. An