answered Thistle, and roamed away into the wood, following a brook till
he came to the lake where he used to play with Gauzy-wing. As he stood
wondering how to find the nixies, he heard a faint cry for help, and
presently found a little frog with a broken leg, lying on the moss.

"I tried to jump too far, when a cruel child was going to tread on me,
and fell among the stones; I long for the water, but can drag myself no
farther," sighed the frog, his bright eyes dim with pain.

Thistle did not like to touch the cold thing, but remembering his own
unkindness to the dragon-fly, he helped the poor froggie to a fallen
oak-leaf, and then tugged it by its stout stem to the waterside where he
could bathe the hurt leg and bring cool draughts in an acorn cup.

"Alas! I cannot swim, and I am very tired of this bed," cried poor Hop
after a day or two, during which Thistle fed and nursed him tenderly.

"I'll pull a lily-pad to the shore, and when you are on it we can sail
about wherever we please, without tiring you," and away went the elf to
find the green boat.

After that they floated all day, and anchored at night, and Hop got well
so fast that soon he could dive off and paddle a bit with his hands, or
float, using his well leg to steer with. Thistle had talked about the
water sprites, but Hop was rather a dull fellow, and lived in the mud,
so he could tell him nothing. One day, however, a little fish popped up
his head and said,--

"I know, and for kind Lilybell's sake I'll show you where they live."

Then Thistle left grateful Hop to his family, and folding his wings
plunged into the lake after the silvery fish, who darted deeper and
deeper till they stood in a curious palace made of rosy coral at the
bottom of the sea. Gay shells made the floors and ornamented the walls.
Lovely sea-weeds grew from the white sand, and heaps of pearls lay
everywhere. The water sprites in their blue robes floated here and
there, or slept in beds of foam, rocked by the motion of the waves.

They gathered round the stranger, bringing all sorts of treasures for
him. But he did not care for these, and told them what he wanted. Then
little Pearl, the gentlest of the sprites, said:

"You must help the coral-workers till the branches of their tree reach
the air; because we want a new island, and that is the way we begin
them. It is very dull work, but we cannot give you the crown till that
is done."

Thistle was ready to begin at once, and