ey threw themselves face down in a bed of rushes,
as if in a great fear; but after a little other children came about
them, and they got up and followed her almost bravely. She noticed
their fear, and presently stood still and held out her arms. A little
girl threw herself into them with the cry, "Ah, you are the Virgin out
o' the picture!" "No," said another, coming near also, "she is a sky
faery, for she has the colour of the sky." "No," said a third, "she is
the faery out of the foxglove grown big." The other children, however,
would have it that she was indeed the Virgin, for she wore the Virgin's
colours. Her good Protestant heart was greatly troubled, and she got
the children to sit down about her, and tried to explain who she was,
but they would have none of her explanation. Finding explanation of no
avail, she asked had they ever heard of Christ? "Yes," said one; "but
we do not like Him, for He would kill us if it were not for the
Virgin." "Tell Him to be good to me," whispered another into her ear.
"We would not let me near Him, for dad says I am a divil," burst out a
third.

She talked to them a long time about Christ and the apostles, but was
finally interrupted by an elderly woman with a stick, who, taking her
to be some adventurous hunter for converts, drove the children away,
despite their explanation that here was the great Queen of Heaven come
to walk upon the mountain and be kind to them. When the children had
gone she went on her way, and had walked about half-a-mile, when the
child who was called "a divil" jumped down from the high ditch by the
lane, and said she would believe her "an ordinary lady" if she had "two
skirts," for "ladies always had two skirts." The "two skirts" were
shown, and the child went away crestfallen, but a few minutes later
jumped down again from the ditch, and cried angrily, "Dad's a divil,
mum's a divil, and I'm a divil, and you are only an ordinary lady," and
having flung a handful of mud and pebbles ran away sobbing. When my
pretty Protestant had come to her own home she found that she had
dropped the tassels of her parasol. A year later she was by chance upon
the mountain, but wearing now a plain black dress, and met the child
who had first called her the Virgin out o' the picture, and saw the
tassels hanging about the child's neck, and said, "I am the lady you
met last year, who told you about Christ." "No, you are not! no, you
are not! no, you are not!" was the passionat