he time, or we should have bought a savings-box; but
lots of people save their money in stockings, and we settled that we
would. An old stocking would not do, because of the holes, and I had
not many good pairs; but we took one of my winter ones to use in the
summer, and then we thought we could pour the money into one of my
good summer ones when the winter came.

What we most of all wanted a fairy godmother for was about our
"homes." There was no kind of play we liked better than playing at
houses and new homes. But no matter where we made our "home," it was
sure to be disturbed. If it was indoors, and we made a palace under
the big table, as soon as ever we had got it nicely divided into rooms
according to where the legs came, it was certain to be dinner-time,
and people put their feet into it. The nicest house we ever had was in
the out-house; we had it, and kept it quite a secret, for weeks. And
then the new load of wood came and covered up everything, our best
oyster-shell dinner-service and all.

Any one can see that it is impossible really to fancy anything when
you are constantly interrupted. You can't have any fun out of a
railway train stopping at stations, when they take all your carriages
to pieces because the chairs are wanted for tea; any more than you can
play properly at Grace Darling in a life-boat, when they say the old
cradle is too good to be knocked about in that way.

It was always the same. If we wanted to play at Thames Tunnel under
the beds, we were not allowed; and the day we did Aladdin in the
store-closet, old Jane came and would put away the soap, just when
Aladdin could not possibly have got the door of the cave open.

It was one day early in May--a very hot day for the time of year,
which had made us rather cross--when Sandy came in about four o'clock,
smiling more broadly even than usual, and said to Richard and me,
"I've got a fairy godmother, and she's given us a field."

Sandy was very fond of eating, especially sweet things. He used to
keep back things from meals to enjoy afterwards, and he almost always
had a piece of cake in his pocket. He brought a piece out now, and
took a large mouthful, laughing at us with his eyes over the top of
it.

"What's the good of a field?" said Richard.

"Splendid houses in it," said Sandy.

"I'm quite tired of fancying homes," said I. "It's no good; we always
get turned out."

"It's quite a new place," Sandy continued; "you've never been the