he was really
in a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into the
parlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry that
broke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A lady
was standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quickly
growing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figure
she was watching for so anxiously.

The noise of the door opening made her look round.

"Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? You
didn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?"

"Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms.

But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filled
her eyes as for a minute or two she listened to the cooings and
caressings of the mother and son.

Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her.

"Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She's
the little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has no
mother," he added in a lower tone.

The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did not
seem surprised.

"I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her
face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's.

And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the
anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once
to tell of her being safe at the farm.

But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had had
some nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested.

"And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she asked
presently.

"I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland,
and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come,
and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained
Phil.

"And _was_ it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.

Griselda shook her head as she replied--

"Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough.
The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it
for ourselves, mustn't we?"

She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that _she_
understood.

"Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly.
"But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."

Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil
away,