wo.
Eva thought the elves were good to do such work, and went on to a
humming-bird which lay in a bed of honeysuckles, with the quick colors
very dim on its little breast and bright wings very still.

"I was shot with an air-gun, and my poor head still aches with the
dreadful blow," sighed the poor bird, trying to sip a little honey with
his long beak.

"I'm nearly well," chirped a cricket, whose stiff tail had been pulled
off by a naughty child and nicely put on again by a very skilful elf.

He looked so cheerful and lively as he hopped about on his bed of dried
grass, with his black eyes twinkling, and a bandage of bindweed holding
his tail firmly in place till it was well, that Eva laughed aloud, and
at the pleasant sound all the sick things smiled and seemed better.

Rows of pale flowers stood in one place, and elves watered them, or tied
up broken leaves, or let in the sunshine to cure their pains,--for these
delicate invalids needed much care; and Mignonette was the name of the
nurse who watched over them, like a little Sister of Charity, with her
gray gown and sweet face.

"You have seen enough. Come to school now, and see where we are taught
all that fairies must know," said Trip, the elf who was guiding her
about.

In a pleasant place they found the child elves sitting on pink daisies
with their books of leaves in their hands, while the teacher was a
Jack-in-the-pulpit, who asked questions, and was very wise. Eva nodded
to the little ones, and they smiled at the stranger as they rustled
their books and pretended to study busily.

A class in arithmetic was going on, and Eva listened to questions that
none but elves would care to know.

"Twinkle, if there were fifteen seeds on a dandelion, and the wind blew
ten away, how many would be left?"

"Five."

"Bud, if a rose opens three leaves one day, two the next, and seven the
next, how many in all?"

"Eleven."

"Daisy, if a silk-worm spins one yard of fairy cloth in an hour, how
many can he spin in a day?"

"Twelve, if he isn't lazy," answered the little elf, fluttering her
wings, as if anxious to be done.

"Now we will read," said Jack, and a new class flew to the long leaf,
where they stood in a row, with open books, ready to begin.

"You may read 'The Flower's Lesson' to-day, and be careful not to
sing-song, Poppy," said the teacher, passing a dainty book to Eva that
she might follow the story.

"Once there was a rose who had two little