ficiently piquant to tempt the cook's intellectual
palate; and in the absence of these, if it happened also to be Jane's
"evening out," Mary would occasionally produce a well-thumbed copy of
the _Arabian Nights_, or some old volume of fairy tales, from which she
read aloud.

How I enjoyed those evenings with the old Eastern romancist! How I
revelled in the imaginary delights and wonders of fairydom! Of course I
pictured myself the hero of every story, the truth of the most
outrageous of which it never occurred to me to doubt. Sitting at Mary's
feet, on a low stool before the fire, with the old cat blinking and
purring with drowsy satisfaction upon my knee, I used to gaze
abstractedly at the glowing coals, now thinking myself the prince in
"Cinderella," now the happy owner of "Puss in Boots," and now the
adventurous Sindbad. There was one story, however--I quite forget its
title--which, in strong contrast with the others, instead of affording
me gratification, was a source of keen annoyance and vexation to me
whenever I heard it. It related to a boy who on one occasion had the
good fortune to meet, in the depths of the forest, a little old man in
red cap and green jerkin--a gnome or fairy, of course--who with the
utmost good-nature offered to gratify any single wish that boy might
choose to express. Here was a glorious chance, the opportunity of a
lifetime! The boy's first thought was for ginger-bread, but before the
thought had time to clothe itself in words the vision of a drum and
trumpet flashed across his mind. He was about to express a wish for
these martial instruments, and a real sword, when it occurred to him
that the fairies were quite equal to the task of providing gifts of
infinitely greater value and splendour than even these coveted articles.
And then that unfortunate boy completely lost his head; his brain
became muddled with the endless variety of things which he found he
required; and he took so long a time to make up his mind that, when, in
desperation, he finally did so, the unwelcome discovery was made that
his fairy friend, disgusted at the delay and vacillation, had vanished
without bestowing upon him so much as even one poor ginger-bread
elephant. It was that boy's first and last opportunity, and he lost it.
He never again met a fairy, though he wandered through the forest, day
after day, week after week, and year after year, until he became an old
man, dying at last in a state of abject p