overed figure coming swiftly along the sidewalk. "I can see
that you found him. You've lost the first number, but they won't scold
you--not this time."

The girl turned a radiant face upon him. "Thank you," she said, shaking
the snowy crystals from her skirt. "I don't care now if they do. I
should have lost more than that if I had stayed."

VIII. TOINETTE AND THE ELVES*

* Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Co.

SUSAN COOLIDGE

The winter's sun was nearing the horizon's edge. Each moment the tree
shadows grew longer in the forest; each moment the crimson light on the
upper boughs became more red and bright. It was Christmas Eve, or would
be in half an hour, when the sun should be fairly set; but it did not
feel like Christmas, for the afternoon was mild and sweet, and the wind
in the leafless boughs sang, as it moved about, as though to imitate
the vanished birds. Soft trills and whistles, odd little shakes and
twitters--it was astonishing what pretty noises the wind made, for it
was in good humor, as winds should be on the Blessed Night; all its
storm-tones and bass-notes were for the moment laid aside, and gently as
though hushing a baby to sleep, it cooed and rustled and brushed to and
fro in the leafless woods.

Toinette stood, pitcher in hand, beside the well. "Wishing Well," the
people called it, for they believed that if any one standing there bowed
to the East, repeated a certain rhyme and wished a wish, the wish would
certainly come true. Unluckily, nobody knew exactly what the rhyme
should be. Toinette did not; she was wishing that she did, as she stood
with her eyes fixed on the bubbling water. How nice it would be! she
thought. What beautiful things should be hers, if it were only to
wish and to have. She would be beautiful, rich, good--oh, so good.
The children should love her dearly, and never be disagreeable. Mother
should not work so hard--they should all go back to France--which mother
said was si belle. Oh, dear, how nice it would be. Meantime, the sun
sank lower, and mother at home was waiting for the water, but Toinette
forgot that.

Suddenly she started. A low sound of crying met her ear, and something
like a tiny moan. It seemed close by but she saw nothing.

Hastily she filled her pitcher and turned to go. But again the sound
came, an unmistakable sob, right under her feet. Toinette stopped short.

"What is the matter?" she called out bravely. "Is anybody there? and if