last drop was drained, and then she would kiss him and tell him that
he was her dear, brave boy, and would some day thank her for making him
drink the fairies' potion. He soon found that if he drank the contents
of the loving-cup early in the morning, he tasted nothing but the sweet
nectar, whereas if he put it off until noon, he could not taste anything
but the sour vinegar, and when he delayed the drinking of it until
night, it seemed as if the whole contents of the cup had changed to
gall, and he would be days and days getting over the bitter taste. So
being a sensible boy, he learned to drink it as soon as it was mixed.

Each year he grew more loving and thoughtful of others, more like the
wood-fairies in his effort to make the world around him beautiful.
Little by little he gained the power which the wood-fairies alone can
give--the wonderful power of knowing just what is going on in the hearts
of the people about you, even when you do not speak to them or they to
you.

If he chanced to meet a sad-faced man or woman on the street, his
beautiful eyes seemed to say more tenderly than words could say, "I see
you are in trouble and I feel _so sorry_ for you." If he passed a group
of merry makers, his smile was so bright that they knew it meant "What a
lot of fun you are having! I am so glad!" As he grew older his hands
became almost as wonderful as his eyes, or his smile. If he found a
little child crying over a broken toy he would stop and mend it, and in
a few moments the tears would be gone and the little one would go off
laughing or singing, hugging his mended toy.

Sometimes a young girl would come to him with a beautiful picture which
she had been embroidering on a screen, but which had been spoiled by
some crooked, careless stitches, and he would patiently sit down beside
her and would point out to her just where the wrong stitches had been
put into the picture, and would help her take them out. Then he would
show her how to put in the right kind of stitches and she would go away
happy and contented, ready to work day by day on the lovely screen with
which she was someday going to make her future home beautiful.

Now and then a young musician would find that his silver flute played
only harsh discords instead of sweet melodies and he would grow
discouraged and be ready to throw it away, when Philip would come along
and pick up the flute quietly and examine it and discover that the
jarring sounds came because