s it not like some little bad fairy
running along to hurt them?"

It was very hot, and Bab's eyes shut after she had said that, and when
she opened them again she forgot the bad fairy, she was so shocked to
see the splash of ink on the paper. And then she felt the sun warmer and
warmer, and she shut her eyes once more.

"Look again," said a very little voice, but very sweet, oh, so sweet!

So she did look again. She saw all the beautiful painted fairies and
butterflies had risen up alive from the page, and were dancing and
gliding round and round it, never passing off the border to the outside
or the inside. It was a lovely sight to see, and little Bab laughed and
clapped her hands. Then a very grand and proud-looking fairy slipped out
of the dance, and stationed herself in front, where she could take a
good look at Bab.

"Little girl, why did you do that?" said the fairy, severely.

"Oh, what, please?" Bab was a brave child, but she did feel a little
shaky and nohow just then.

"Brought the bad fairy Blackame to creep in among us and eat up our
butterflies."

And had Bab really the power to bring a fairy Blackame over there when
she thought it was only a splash of ink? And she looked with a sort of
terror on the bad fairy Blackame when she thought she had brought her,
and could not send her away.

"Oh, fairy, fairy!" she cried, "do forgive me. But can that wretched
little black splashy thing--for you really _can't_ call it a splash--eat
your butterflies when there are so many of you to fight for them, and
they've got heaps and heaps of wings to fly away with?"

"But how can we manage that?" replied the fairy, sharply, "when we are
too timid to fight and the butterflies are too brave to fly away."

"Well, that _is_ inconvenient," sighed Bab; "but don't you think, since
the butterflies are so brave--how I do like them for being so
brave!--don't you think they might fight a little?"

"Butterflies fight!" screamed the fairy. "Were butterflies ever seen to
fight since the first butterfly? What will you say next? I think you are
a very disagreeable little girl. First you bring down Blackame, and then
you want to set all our dear pretty butterflies fighting."

"It was you who said they were so brave," murmured Bab, half penitent
and half injured.

"And pray, is there any reason why I should not be permitted to say that
butterflies are brave?" asked the fairy, with a sort of deadly
politeness.

"And so much a