ove to read them all, but I wouldn't be allowed to read the
fairy tales," with a sigh.

"Why not?"

"Uncle doesn't approve of them."

"What a pity!" cried Blanche. "I wonder why. Do you think he would let
you if I were to ask him? I could take him my 'Grimm' and show him what
splendid tales they are."

"Would you dare to?" asked Marjory, awestruck by her friend's bold plan.

"Dare to? Of course I should. I can't think why you are so frightened of
Dr. Hunter, he looks such a dear old thing. If he were a cow or a bull
it would be different," laughing; "but you don't seem a bit afraid of
them, with their great horns and bulging, glaring eyes."

"That's just where we're different," said Marjory, laughing too. "You're
afraid of animals and not of people, and I'm afraid of people and not of
animals."

"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid to ask about the fairy tales. I shall tell
him that of course we don't really believe in them in our everyday
heads, but they are nice to think about, and to think perhaps some day a
fairy thing might happen."

Marjory laughed. "Isn't that believing in them?"

"No, not really. I can't quite explain what I mean."

"I've made fairies for myself," said Marjory. "There are plenty of them
in the garden, and I understand what they say. They know me quite well,
and I only have to sit very quietly and hardly breathe, and I can hear
them. They live in the flowers, and you can hear them ringing their tiny
little bells and talking to one another, so low that it is only just a
whisper."

"Do go on," urged Blanche.

"I don't know if you would be able to hear them. Peter says he can't;
but then he's old and deaf, and he says he never thought of listening
when he was young."

"What made you think of it?"

"Nothing; it just came. I seem to have known about the flower fairies
all my life. I miss them so in the winter, when they all go away under
the ground to their winter palace, and I am always so happy when I see
the first snowdrop come. I always go and kiss her, and tell her how glad
I am to see her, and how brave I think she is to be the first to come;
and I promise her that if a hard frost comes I will put some nice leaves
round her to keep her warm."

"Why, this _is_ a fairy tale. What does your uncle say?"

"I have never told him; it wouldn't be any good. He would only tell me
to sew my seam, or knit my stocking, or do something useful."

"But couldn't you make him understand?"

Marjor