lied, "I take a _great_ interest in racing. I love it. I
can give you all sorts of hints."

I thought it was a pity she hadn't called a week or two earlier. I might
have been a richer woman by a good many pounds.

"And there are so many kinds," continued the Queen earnestly. "Now in a
butterfly race it's always best just to hold on and let them do as they
like. It's not a bit of use trying to make them go straight. Rabbits are
better in that way, but even rabbits are a little uncertain at times. Full
of nerves. But have you ever tried swallow-racing?" she went on
enthusiastically. "It's simply splendid. You give them their heads and you
never know _where_ you may get to. But, anyway, it doesn't really matter in
the least afterwards who wins; it's only while it's happening that you feel
so thrilled, isn't it?"

I didn't acquiesce very whole-heartedly. I'm afraid my thoughts were with
my lost guineas. It _had_ rather mattered afterwards. I really had been
very foolish.

"You look depressed," said the Fairy Queen. "Can I help you? I'm really
extremely practical. You know, don't you," she leaned forward and looked at
me earnestly, "that I should be delighted if I could assist you with any
advice?"

I hesitated. Just before she came I had been anxiously considering as to
how I was going to make one hundred pounds do the work of two during the
next few weeks; but somehow I didn't quite like to mention such material
matters to the Queen; it didn't seem suitable.

I looked up and met her kind eyes fixed on mine with an expression of the
gentlest interest and solicitude.

"I wonder," I said, still hesitating, "whether you know anything about
stocks and shares?"

"Stocks and shares," she repeated slowly, looking just a little vague and
puzzled. And then--"Oh, yes, of course I do, if that's all you want to
know."

I felt quite pleased now that I had really got it out.

"If you could just give me a useful hint or two I should be tremendously
grateful," I said. Already thousands loomed entrancingly before me. Already
I saw myself settled in that darling cottage on the windy hill above
Daccombe Wood. Already--

"I think I had better get a pencil and paper," I said. "My memory's
dreadful."

But the Fairy Queen shook her head.

"I'll write it down for you," she said, "and you can read it when I'm gone.
That's so much more fun. But I don't need paper."

She drew a tiny shining implement from her pocket and, picking up