een; so she shut the window,
went back to bed and presently in the midst of her amazed and excited
thoughts fell asleep.

She waked in the morning, with a queer, doubtful feeling. Had she
dreamed, or had it really happened? She put on her best petticoat and
laced her blue bodice; for she thought the mother would perhaps take
them across the wood to the little chapel for the Christmas service. Her
long hair smoothed and tied, her shoes trimly fastened, downstairs she
ran. The mother was stirring porridge over the fire. Toinette went close
to her, but she did not move or turn her head.

"How late the children are," she said at last, lifting the boiling pot
on the hob. Then she went to the stair-foot and called, "Marc,
Jeanneton, Pierre, Marie. Breakfast is ready, my children. Toinette--but
where, then, is Toinette? She is used to be down long before this."

"Toinette isn't upstairs," said Marie from above. "Her door is wide
open, and she isn't there."

"That is strange," said the mother. "I have been here an hour, and she
has not passed this way since." She went to the outer door and called,
"Toinette! Toinette!" passing close to Toinette as she did so, and
looking straight at her with unseeing eyes. Toinette, half frightened,
half pleased, giggled low to herself. She really was invisible, then.
How strange it seemed and what fun it was going to be.

The children sat down to breakfast, little Jeanneton, as the youngest,
saying grace. The mother distributed the porridge and gave each a spoon
but she looked anxious.

"Where can Toinette have gone?" she said to herself. Toinette was
conscious-pricked. She was half inclined to dispel the charm on the
spot. But just then she caught a whisper from Pierre to Marc which so
surprised her as to put the idea out of her head.

"Perhaps a wolf has eaten her up--a great big wolf like the 'Capuchon
Rouge,' you know." This was what Pierre said; and Marc answered
unfeelingly:

"If he has, I shall ask mother to let me have her room for my own."

Poor Toinette, her cheeks burned and her eyes filled with tears at this.
Didn't the boys love her a bit then? Next she grew angry, and longed to
box Marc's ears, only she recollected in time that she was invisible.
What a bad boy he was, she thought.

The smoking porridge reminded her that she was hungry; so brushing away
the tears she slipped a spoon off the table and whenever she found the
chance, dipped it into the bowl for a mouthfu