his teeth as if he would best like to snatch her, and munch her
up, and swallow her down all in a minute.

But Dame Dorothy was enchanted with her bright little visitor; for, to
tell the truth, the callers-in were very rare that year at the woodside
cottage, and the widow's heart often yearned for some one to speak to.

The white fairy inquired how it was that so few flowers were seen in the
garden, and so few birds' nests under the eaves of the cottage; and why
Dame Dorothy did not take her knitting that fine morning, and enjoy the
bright sun in the doorway?

The widow looked melancholy, and heaved a deep sigh; but the black dog,
who had overheard every syllable, sneaked away with a low growling
noise, and knocked down a chair on purpose to indicate his malice.

"I shall return another day," said the good little fairy as she rose to
take leave, "and bring you such a sweet nosegay fresh from the forest,
to decorate the table and cheer your heart, because," she added, quite
in a whisper, lest Nero might hear her--"because I am sorry to see you
have none left in your flower-beds."

From this day forth Dame Dorothy's dog was "poorly." He skulked about
the garden, keeping to the gravel walk, with drooping ears and tail
between his legs. And by-and-by he began to leave his food untasted.

The poor widow noticed the change, and became anxious. Then presently
she grew more uneasy; and at last, greatly concerned about her
favourite's health, she set about cutting him out a warm coat for the
autumn out of her own best velvet mantle, for she was sure he had taken
the influenza.

By-and-by she observed that Nero grew worse on the days of the bright
little fairy's visits; that no sooner did the white robe and the golden
hair cross the threshold than he would move away from the fireside,
slink whining under the tables and chairs, and pass outside the house
altogether.

Yet Dame Dorothy could not help loving the sunny fairy who every time
fetched a lovely posy of sweet-scented flowers from the forest; to say
nothing of her winning voice, her musical laughter, her gentle, loving
eyes.

And the village children trooped often now past the woodside cottage,
for they wanted to catch a glimpse of the fairy as she went in and out;
and they were quite overjoyed when she spoke to them.

At last one day Dame Dorothy, who had got into the habit of telling the
fairy everything, thought she would consult her about her dog.

"Ah me, m