rew flowers for
it to tread on. To try to crown its fair head with their tiny hands. To
show that they were fond of it, and loved it; and that there was not one
ugly, wicked, or accusatory creature to claim knowledge of it--none but
their playful and approving selves.

His thoughts were constant to her image. It was always there.

She sat plying her needle, before the fire, and singing to herself. Such
a blithe, thriving, steady little Dot! The Fairy figures turned upon him
all at once, by one consent, with one prodigious concentrated stare, and
seemed to say, "Is this the light wife you are mourning for?"

There were sounds of gaiety outside, musical instruments, and noisy
tongues, and laughter. A crowd of young merry-makers came pouring in,
among whom were May Fielding and a score of pretty girls. Dot was the
fairest of them all; as young as any of them too. They came to summon
her to join their party. It was a dance. If ever little foot were made
for dancing, hers was, surely. But she laughed, and shook her head, and
pointed to her cookery on the fire, and her table ready spread; with an
exulting defiance that rendered her more charming than she was before.
And so she merrily dismissed them, nodding to her would-be partners, one
by one, as they passed out, with a comical indifference, enough to make
them go and drown themselves immediately if they were her admirers--and
they must have been so, more or less; they couldn't help it. And yet
indifference was not her character. Oh no! For presently there came a
certain Carrier to the door; and, bless her, what a welcome she bestowed
upon him!

Again the staring figures turned upon him all at once, and seemed to
say, "Is this the wife who has forsaken you?"

A shadow fell upon the mirror or the picture: call it what you will. A
great shadow of the Stranger, as he first stood underneath their roof;
covering its surface, and blotting out all other objects. But, the
nimble Fairies worked like bees to clear it off again. And Dot again was
there. Still bright and beautiful.

Rocking her little Baby in its cradle, singing to it softly, and resting
her head upon a shoulder which had its counterpart in the musing figure
by which the Fairy Cricket stood.

The night--I mean the real night: not going by Fairy clocks--was wearing
now; and, in this stage of the Carrier's thoughts, the moon burst out,
and shone brightly in the sky. Perhaps some calm and quiet light had
risen als