breeze, until Annabelle could have easily
sworn that those were Indian fairies. And beyond lay the woods, dark
and mossy and cool, and there many a something mysterious could have
sprung into being, for in the recess was a silvery pool where the
children played barefooted. A summer mist like a thin veil hung over the
scene, and the breeze whispered tales of far-away lands.

Hist! Something stirred in the hazel bush near her. Can I describe
little Annabelle's amazement at finding in the bush a palace and a tall
and dark-faced fairy before it?

"I am Amunophis, the Lily of Ethiopia," said the strange creature. "And
I come to the children of the Seventh Veil."

She was black and regal, and her voice was soft and low and gentle like
the Niger on a summer evening. Her dress was the wing of the sacred
beetle, and whenever the wind stirred it played the dreamiest of music.
Her feet were bound with golden sandals, and on her head was a crown of
lotus leaves.

"And you're a fairy?" gasped Annabelle.

"Yes, I am a fairy, just as you wished me to be. I live in the tall
grass many, many miles away, where a beautiful river called the Niger
sleeps." And stretching herself beside Annabelle, on the lawn, the fairy
began to whisper:

[Illustration: The Black Fairy]

"I have lived there for over five thousand years. In the long ago a city
rested there, and from that spot black men and women ruled the world.
Great ships laden with spice and oil and wheat would come to its port,
and would leave with wines and weapons of war and fine linens. Proud and
great were the black kings of this land, their palaces were built of
gold, and I was the Guardian of the City. But one night when I was
visiting an Indian grove the barbarians from the North came down and
destroyed our shrines and palaces and took our people up to Egypt. Oh,
it was desolate, and I shed many tears, for I missed the busy hum of the
market and the merry voices of the children.

"But come with me, little Annabelle, I will show you all this, the rich
past of the Ethiopian."

She bade the little girl take hold of her hand and close her eyes, and
wish herself in the wood behind the cornfield. Annabelle obeyed, and ere
they knew it they were sitting beside the clear water in the pond.

"You should see the Niger," said the fairy. "It is still beautiful, but
not as happy as in the old days. The white man's foot has been cooled by
its water, and the white man's blossom is ch