At last they came to the great chamber, where the Queen sat on a magnificent throne of ice, and when she saw the crowd she started to her feet. "Have you brought it? Have you brought it?" she cried eagerly. "Have you brought me the magic chain?"

"Yes," shouted the dwarfs all together, "we have brought it."

Then they stood still, and Teddy went on up the steps along.

"Where is it?" asked the Queen, and she stretched out her hands.

"It is here," said Teddy. Very slowly he drew it out from under his cloak, and then suddenly he threw it over her. "And now take it!" he cried.

It was in vain that the Queen struggled and cried; the more she strove, the closer the chain drew about her, for it was a magic chain. At last she stood still, panting. "Who are you?" she asked.

Then Teddy raised his hand, holding it open so that she could see the ruby. "I am King Fireheart," he cried; "and now take your own real shape, wicked enchantress that you are."

At these words the black-browed Queen gave a cry that changed, even as she uttered it, to a croak, and a moment after she was nothing but a great black raven that spread its wings, and flew away over the heads of the dwarfs, out of the window and on out of sight.

Then Teddy turned and walked out of the great ice-chamber and down the hall, followed in silence by the dwarfs. As he went, the spearsmen started forward to lay hands upon him, but as soon as they saw the ruby ring they stood, every man stiffened just as he was, some leaning forward with outstretched arm, some with their spears lifted, some with their mouths open, but all of them turned to ice.

When Teddy and the dwarfs had reached the mountain road again they turned and looked back toward the castle.

A warm south wind was blowing, and the aurora borealis had faded away. Already the castle was beginning to melt; the spires and turrets were softening and dripping down. There was a warm red light over everything, like the light of the rising sun.

"And now," cried the dwarfs, "will your Majesty come up to your own royal castle?"

"Yes," answered Teddy, "I will come."

* * * * * * *

"Quick! quick!" cried the Counterpane Fairy. "It's time to come back."

Teddy was at home once more. There was the flowered furniture, and the fire burning red upon the hearth. "Tick-tock! tick-tock! tick-tock!" said the clock.

"I must go," cried the fairy, hastily, "for I heard your little cousin opening and shutting the side door."

"Oh, wait!" cried Teddy. "Won't you wait and let her see you too?" But the fairy was already disappearing behind the counterpane hill. All he could see was the top of her pointed hood. Then that too disappeared. The door was thrown open and Harriett came running in bringing a breath of fresh out-of-doors air with her. Her cheeks were red, and she looked very pretty in her embroidered apron and pink ribbons.



CHAPTER SEVENTH. THE RAINBOW CHILDREN.

IT was Sunday afternoon, and everything was very still.

Teddy had been allowed to sit up that morning for the first time since he had been ill. He had put on the little blue dressing-gown that mamma had made for him, and she was so funny about getting him into it, and wheeling the chair over to the window, that Teddy had laughed and laughed.

After that he sat at the window looking out and watching the chickens in the yard below, and the people going along the street.

Teddy's mamma was going to church, but his father stayed home with the little boy, and told him stories, and drew pictures with a blue pencil on a writing-pad; pictures of "David Killing Goliath," and of "Daniel in the Lions' Den."

Then he drew a picture of the house in the real country where he and mamma and Teddy were going to live some time—a house with a barn, and horses, and cows, and pigs, and a pony that Teddy could ride when he came in to town to school.

The morning flew by so quickly that the little boy was surprised when mamma came back from church, and said it was almost time for luncheon.

She looked at the pictures that papa had drawn, and smiled when Teddy told her about them; but very soon she began to talk seriously with papa. She told him she had stopped in at Mrs. McFinney's on her way home, and that she had been wondering whether something couldn't be done for little Ellen McFinney's lameness. She felt so sorry for her.

Papa said the child ought to be sent to a hospital, and he thought that if that were done she could be cured. Mamma said that she thought so too; but that someone had been talking to little Ellen, and frightened her so that she cried whenever the hospital was talked of, and her mother would not send her unless she felt willing to go.

Then mamma spoke of how lonely it must be for the little girl there in the house by herself all the day, while her mother was out at work, with so little to amuse her.

"Mamma," said Teddy, "why can't little Ellen have some of my books to amuse her—some I had when I was sick? Because, you know, I'm well now, and don't need them any more."

"That's a very good idea," said mamma, looking pleased. "You may choose the ones you will give her, and perhaps papa will leave them with her when he goes out for a walk this afternoon."

"Well," cried Teddy, eagerly, "I think I'll give her the Ali Baba book and Robinson Crusoe, and I think, maybe, I'll give her Little Golden Locks too."

Mamma brought the books, and they tied them up in a neat package, and just as they finished there was a little rattle of china outside the door, and in came Hannah with Teddy's luncheon, and a great yellow orange that Aunt Pauline had sent him.

After luncheon mamma made Teddy lie down for a while to rest. The Venetian shutters were drawn, so that all the room was dimly green, and then mamma and papa went out and left him alone.

Teddy lay there for what seemed to him a long time. The house was very still, and the afternoon sun shone in through the slats of the shutters in golden chinks and lines.

Teddy wondered where mamma was, and why she didn't come back, for it seemed to him that he had been alone almost all the afternoon, though really it had not been for long.

Presently he heard someone humming cheerfully back of the counterpane hill, and as soon as he heard it he felt sure that the Counterpane Fairy must be coming.

Sure enough in a few minutes she appeared at the top and stood looking down at him with a pleasant smile. "Oh, Mrs. Fairy, I knew that was you!" cried Teddy.

"Did you?" said the fairy, sitting down on top of his knees. "And then did you think, 'Now I shall see another story'?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Teddy, eagerly. "I hoped you would show me one."

"Then I suppose I'll have to," said the fairy. "And what square shall it be this time?"

"There's one close by you," said Teddy, "and it's most every color, like a rainbow. Will you show me that story?"

"Yes," said the fairy, "I'll show you that. Now fix your eyes on it." Then she began to count.

"FORTY-NINE!" she cried.

* * * * * * * *

Teddy and little Ellen McFinney were running along, hand in hand, over a rainbow that stretched across the shining sky like a bridge. The clouds above them shone like opals, and far, far below was the green world, with shining rivers, and houses that looked no larger than walnuts.

"Can't we run fast?" said Teddy. "I think we go as fast as an express train; don't you, Ellen?"

"I know a faster way to go than this," said the little girl.

"Do you?"

"Yes, I do. Let go of my hand, and I'll show you." She drew her hand away from Teddy, and very slowly she leaned back against the air as though it were a pillow, then she gave herself a little push with her feet, and away she floated so lightly and easily that Teddy could hardly keep up with her.

"Oh, Ellen!" cried Teddy, "will you teach me to do that?"

"Yes, I will," said Ellen. So she stood up and showed Teddy how to take a long breath, and how to push himself, and then he found he could do it quite well, and when Ellen began to float too, they could go along together hand in hand just as they had before.

Suddenly a thought crossed Teddy's mind, and he cried, "Why, Ellen, I thought you were lame!"

"So I am," said the little girl.

"But you can run and float."

"Yes, I know, but that's because I'm dreaming."

"Why, no, Ellen, you can't be dreaming," said Teddy, "for I'm here too."

"Well, I don't know," said Ellen, "but I think I'm dreaming, because I've often dreamed this way before."

Teddy thought of this for a little while, but it was not pleasant to think that he was in a dream. After a while he said: "Ellen, don't you know, if you're lame you ought to go to a hospital? My mamma says so, and my papa says so too."

An ugly expression came into Ellen's face. "That's all you know about it," she cried. "You don't catch me going to a hospital. Why, I heard of a girl that went to a hospital and—"

She was interrupted by a soft burst of laughter, and looking about Teddy saw that he and she had floated right into midst of a group of little children, who were running along the rainbow bridge. They were all such pretty little children, with soft shining faces and bare feet, but they did not quite look like any children that Teddy had ever seen before.

Each little child carried in its hand a bunch of flowers, and they were such flowers as the little boy had never dreamed of. Some of them moved on their stalks, opening and closing their petals softly like the wings of butterflies, some shone like jewels, and some seemed to change and throb as if with a hidden pulse of life.

Ellen, who had stopped floating, caught Teddy by the coat and hung back timidly when she saw the children, but Teddy spoke to the one nearest to him. "Where did you get your flowers?" he asked.

"From the garden at the other end of the rainbow," said the little child, smiling at him.

"Give me one?"

"Oh, no, I can't!" answered the child, staring at him with big eyes. "They're for someone else."

"Whom are they for?"

"You can come along and see."

"Oh, say," whispered Ellen to Teddy, "let's go back!" But Teddy answered: "No, no! Come on and see where they're going." So Ellen reluctantly followed him, and they joined the other little children journeying along the rainbow.

The strange little children seemed very happy, and they laughed and talked together in their soft, clear voices, though Teddy could not always understand what they said. He could understand best the little boy to whom he had spoken first. Teddy asked him again where they were going, and this time the little boy (he seemed to be the captain of the band) told him that they were going down to the earth. He said that every week they had a holiday, and then they crossed the rainbow bridge, and carried the flowers from their flower-beds down to the little earth children.

"But what little children?" asked Teddy, curiously.

"Oh, you'll see!" answered the little boy, laughing, and then he began to talk with the others, and Teddy could no longer understand him.

It was not long after this that Teddy saw before him the end of the rainbow, and where should it go but right through the window of a great square yellow house, set back of a high wall and in the middle of a lawn.

"Oh dear! we can't get to the end of it after all," cried Teddy, and the next thing he knew the little children were walking through the window just as if nothing were there, and he and Ellen were following them.

"Where are we?" asked Ellen, looking about her, half frightened and yet curious.

"I can't think," said Teddy. "Seems as if I knew, but I can't think."

They were in a long, bare, clean room, and on each side of it were rows of little white beds, and in each bed lay or sat a little child. A few of the children were asleep, most of them were awake, but all looked pale and thin. Here and there at the sides of the beds grown-up people were sitting, sometimes showing the children pictures or books, and sometimes reading to them.

The children from the rainbow walked slowly up the aisle between the row of beds, and, strangely enough, no one seemed to look at them or pay the least attention, any more than if they had not been there, and at last Teddy began to believe that they could not see them.

Often the little strange children stopped to smooth a pillow or to softly stroke the cheek or hand of one of the little earth children.

Here and there one would linger behind the others, by some bed, and after a moment would lay its bunch of flowers on the pillow. Then the little child in the bed would turn its head and smile, even if it were asleep, and its face would shine as if with some inward happiness. The whole room seemed filled with the perfume of flowers, and Teddy wondered that no one paid any attention to it.

At last they came to a bed where a little child was lying fast asleep, and a woman was sitting beside the child and fanning it. Suddenly its eyes opened, and the moment they turned toward the rainbow children, Teddy knew that it saw them.

It lay looking for a moment and then it smiled and feebly tried to wave its hand. "What is it, dear?" asked the woman, bending over the child, but it paid no attention to her, for it was gazing at the rainbow children.

"Oh, he sees us! he sees us!" they cried, clapping their hands joyfully. "He'll be coming across the rainbow soon."

Then the rainbow children gathered about the bed and began talking to the child, but Teddy could not understand what they said to it. The little child on the bed seemed to understand them though, and it smiled and tried to nod its head.

"Come soon! Come soon!" cried the little children, waving their hands to it as they moved away, and the eyes of the child on the bed followed them wistfully, as though it were eager to follow.

Teddy and Ellen still went with the other little children, and a moment after they were out on the rainbow bridge again, high up above the world, but they were alone, for the little strange children were gone.

Ellen stood still and drew a long breath. "Oh! wasn't that lovely?" she sighed. "I wonder where it was!"

"I know where it was!" cried Teddy suddenly. "I remember now, for I saw a picture of it in one of papa's magazines. That was a hospital, Ellen."

"A hospital!" cried the little girl.

"Yes, a hospital."

Ellen did not say anything for some time, but at last she drew another deep breath. "Well, if that's a hospital I shouldn't mind going to a place like that," she said.

The rainbow had faded away, and Teddy was back in the great high-post bedstead again, with the silk coverlet drawn up over his knees, and the Counterpane Fairy still sitting on top of the hill. Teddy lay looking at her for a while in silence. "Mrs. Fairy, was that a true story like the others?" he asked her at last.

"How should I know?" asked the fairy. "Do I look as though I knew anything about rainbow children? You'd better ask Ellen McFinney; maybe she can tell you."

"Well, I will," said Teddy. "I mean to ask her just as soon as ever I'm well."

He did not have to wait for that, however, for the very next day his mother told him that little Ellen had at last consented to be taken to the hospital, and that perhaps when he saw the little girl again she would be able to walk and run about almost like other children.



CHAPTER EIGHTH. HARRIETT'S DREAM.

TEDDY had begged mamma to ask Harriett to come over and play with him after school, but not to tell her that now he was no longer in bed, so when the little girl came running in she was very much surprised. "Why, Teddy, you're well again, aren't you?" she cried.

"Yes, now I'm well again," said Teddy "and mamma says we may each have a little sponge-cake, and she's going to let us blow soap-bubbles. Would you like to blow soap-bubbles, Harriett?"

"Yes, I guess so," said Harriett.

So mamma made them a bowl of strong suds, and brought out two pipes, and the children played together very happily for quite a time. Sometimes they threw the bubbles into the air and tried to blow them up to the ceiling; sometimes the children put their pipes close together, so that the bubbles they blew were joined in one lopsided globe.

Last of all they set the bowl on a chair, and kneeling beside it put their pipes into the suds, and blew and blew until quite a soap-bubble castle rose up and touched their noses with wet suds.

Teddy felt a little tired and soapy by that time, so mamma put all the things away, and read them some stories from Grimm's Fairy Tales.

After that Harriett said she must go home, and indeed it was almost supper-time, so mamma helped her put on her little hat and coat and kissed her good-bye.

Teddy was very tired by the time supper was over; he felt quite willing to be put to bed, and as soon as he was there he sank into a doze.

When he awoke again he was alone; it was quite dark outside, but mamma had set a lamp behind the screen. By its dim light Teddy saw the Counterpane Fairy's brown hood appearing above the hill, and he heard her sighing to herself: "Oh dear! oh dear!"

"Oh, Mrs. Fairy!" cried the little boy, almost before she had reached the top of the hill, "I'm so glad you've come, for I don't know when mamma will be here. Won't you show me a story?"

"In a minute! in a minute!" said the fairy. "As soon as I can catch my breath."

Teddy was so afraid that mamma would come in that he could hardly wait, and when the Counterpane Fairy told him that she was ready and that he might choose a square, he made haste and pointed out a silvery gray one. Then the fairy began to count. "FORTY-NINE!" she cried.

* * * * * * * *

Teddy was walking down a long, smooth, gray road. There was a silvery mist all about him, so that it was almost as though he were walking through the sky, and the road seemed to begin and end in grayness.

He knew that somewhere behind him lay his home, and that in front was the place where he was going, but he did not know what that place was.

At last he reached the edge of a wide gray lake as smooth and as shining as glass. Beside him on the beach a little gray bird was crouching. "Peet-weet! peet-weet!" cried the little gray bird.

It was so close to Teddy's feet that it seemed to him that with a single movement he could stoop and catch it. Very softly he reached out his hand and the little bird did not stir. "Peet-weet! peet-weet!" it cried. Suddenly with a quick movement he clutched it. For a moment he thought that he felt it in his fingers, all feathery and soft and warm, and then the voice of the Counterpane Fairy cried, "Take care! you're rumpling my cloak!"

Teddy dropped the bird as though it had burned him, and there it was not a bird at all, but the Counterpane Fairy, who stood smoothing down her cloak and frowning. "Oh! I didn't know that was you; I thought it was a bird," cried Teddy.

"A bird!" cried the fairy. "Do I look like a bird?"

Teddy thought that she did, for her nose was long and thin, and her eyes were bright like those of a sparrow, but he did not like to say so. All he said was, "I wonder why I came here?" for now he knew that this was the place that he had been coming to.

"I suppose you came to see the dreams go by," said the Counterpane Fairy. "I often come for that myself."

"The dreams go by!" said Teddy. "I don't know what you mean."

"Do you see that castle over yonder?" asked the fairy, pointing out across the lake. Teddy looked as hard as he could, and after a while he thought he did see the shadowy roofs and turrets of a great gray castle through the mist.

"I think I do," he said.

"Well," said the fairy, "that is where the dreams live, and every evening they go sailing past here, on their way to the people who are asleep, and I generally come down to see them go by. Look! look! There goes one now."

A little boat, as pale and light as a bubble, was gliding through the mist; in it was seated a gray figure, and as it passed the island it turned its face toward them and waved a shadowy hand. Presently two more boats slid silently by, and then another. "Oh, I know that dream!" cried Teddy; "I dreamed that dream once myself."

Now there was a little pause, and then the dreams began to go past so fast that Teddy lost count of them.

At last one of the boats gilded out of the line of the rest, and over toward where Teddy was standing, running up smoothly onto the gray beach, and out of it hopped a queer, ugly little dream, with pop eyes and big hands and feet. As soon as he found himself on shore he cut a caper and cracked his shadowy fingers.

"Who are you?" asked Teddy, curiously.

"Oh, I'm just a dream," said the little figure.

"Well, what are you coming here for?" asked Teddy; "I'm not asleep."

"I know you're not," said the dream, "and I'm not coming to you. I'm going to a little girl named Harriett."

"Oh, I know her!" cried Teddy. "She's my cousin. But why are you her dream? You're not pretty."

"I know I'm not pretty," answered the dream, "and that's why I'm going to her. She was to have had such a pretty dream to-night, but she ate a piece of plum-cake before she went to bed, so now I'm going to her instead of the other one."

"What was the other one like?" asked Teddy.

"There it is," said the dream, pointing toward the boat. And now Teddy saw that another gray figure was in it. As he looked, it slowly and sorrowfully stepped from the boat and came up the beach toward them. It was very beautiful, and in its hand it carried a great bunch of shining bubbles, fastened to a stick by parti-colored ribbons, just as Teddy had seen Italians carrying balloons, only these bubble-balloons were growing and shrinking and changing every moment, just as though they were alive.

As she came toward them the ugly dream frowned and shook his hands at her. "Go away! Go away!" he cried. "There's no use your following me around this way. You sha'n't be dreamed to-night."

"I think you might let me go into her dream with you," said the pretty dream, sorrowfully. "She didn't know she oughtn't to eat the plum-cake."

"Well, you sha'n't," said the ugly dream. "She ain't going to have any dream but me, and I'm going to look just as ugly as I can. I'm going to do this way," and the naughty little dream put his thumbs in the corners of his mouth, drawing it wide, and at the same time drew down the outside corners of his eyes with his forefingers, just as Teddy had seen the boys at school do sometimes. Then the dream hopped up into the air and cut a caper. "Ho, ho!" he cried, "won't it be fun? You can come along and see me frighten her, if you want to." This last he said to Teddy.

Teddy thought him a very naughty, ugly-tempered little dream, but still he went with him, wondering all the time how he could induce him to let the pretty dream go to Harriett, and as they walked up the road together the pretty dream still followed them, carrying her bunch of bubbles.

They went on and on, until they came to a place where the ground was rough, and broken up with a number of black holes. The ugly dream went from one to another of these, pausing, and laying his ear to their edges.

"What are you doing?" asked Teddy.

"Hush! can't you see I'm listening?" said the dream crossly.

At last, after pausing at one of them, he turned to Teddy and nodded his head. "This is it," he said; "this is where Harriett lives."

"Why, it isn't at all!" cried Teddy, indignantly. "My cousin Harriett doesn't live in a hole! She lives in a great big house with doors and windows."

"Well, anyway, this is her chimney," said the dream, "and it's the only way to get into her house from here. If you want to come, come; and if you don't want to, why, stay," and the dream sat down on the edge of the hole.

Teddy hesitated. "If I went down that way, I think I'd fall and hurt myself," he said at last.

"Pooh! No, you wouldn't if you took my hand," said the dream. "I always go this way, and it's as easy as anything."

So Teddy sat down on the edge of the hole, and grasped the dream's shadowy fingers in his. Then they pushed themselves off the edge, and down they went through the darkness.

Teddy felt so frightened for a minute that he quite lost his breath, but he held on tight to the dream's fingers, and soon they landed, as softly and lightly as a feather, right in the nursery of Aunt Paulina's house, and the pretty dream was still following them.

"And now begins the fun," whispered the dream.

The house was very still, for everyone was fast asleep. The moon shone in through the window, making the room bright, and beyond the open closet door Teddy could see the toys all arranged in order just as Harriett had left them, (for she was a tidy little girl), and Harriett herself was tucked into her little white bed in the room beyond.

Teddy felt so sorry to think of her having such an ugly dream that he stood still. "You won't frighten her very much, will you?" he asked.

"Yes, I shall!" said the ugly dream. "I'll frighten her just as much as ever I can; I'll make her cry."

"No, you mustn't," said Teddy, almost crying himself. "I won't let you."

"You can't help it," cried the dream, tauntingly.

Suddenly a bright thought came into Teddy's mind. "Anyway, you're not so very ugly," he said. "Harriet has a Jack-in-the-box that's a great deal—oh! ever so much uglier than you."

"I don't believe it," said the dream.

"Yes, she has," said Teddy; "and it's right there in the closet."

"Then I'll get it, and make myself look like it." With that the dream crawled into the closet, and pushed back the hook of the box where Jack lived, and pop! up shot the most hideous little man that ever was seen, with a bright red face and white whiskers. "Hi! he is ugly!" cried the dream with delight, and sitting down before the box he began to make his face like the Jack's.

Then softly and quickly Teddy closed the closet door, and turned the key in the lock, fastening the dream in. "Hi there! let me out! let me out!" cried the dream, beating softly on the door with its shadowy hands.

"No, I won't," cried Teddy. "You can just stay in there, you ugly dream, for the pretty dream is going to Harriett now." Then he turned to the pretty dream and took her by the hand, and her face shone as brightly as one of her own bubbles.

Together they ran into Harriett's room, and there she lay in her little white bed, with her eyes closed and her curls spread out over the pillow, and when they came in she smiled in her sleep.

The dream shook the bubbles above the bed, and the dimples came into Harriett's cheeks. "Oh! pretty, pretty!" she whispered with her eyes still closed. "Oh, Teddy? isn't it pretty?"

"Yes, it is pretty!" cried Teddy.

* * * * * * * *

"Did you call me, dear?" asked mamma, opening the door.

Teddy was back in his own room, and all he could see of the Counterpane Fairy was the tip of her brown hood disappearing behind the counterpane hill, and that was gone in an instant.

"Oh, Mamma! it was such a pretty dream," cried Teddy.

"Was it, darling?" said mamma. "Try to go to sleep again, dear, for it is very late, and you can tell me all about it to-morrow. Good-night, my little boy."



CHAPTER NINTH. DOWN THE RAT-HOLE.

THE next day Teddy was allowed to go about and follow mamma into the sewing-room, where he had the little cutting-table drawn out and his toys put on it, and played for a long time.

In the afternoon Harriett stopped for a little while, and as soon as Teddy saw her his thoughts went back to the Counterpane Fairy and the story, and he cried out: "Oh, Harriett! I know what you dreamed last night."

"What did I dream?" asked Harriett.

"Why, you dreamed about the soap-bubbles and me; didn't you?"

"How did you know I dreamed that?" asked Harriett.

Then Teddy told her all about standing by the lake and seeing the dreams go past, and how he had shut the ugly one up in the toy-closet.

Harriett listened with great interest. "Wasn't that a funny dream?" she cried when he had ended.

"A dream!" said Teddy. "Why, that wasn't a dream, Harriett. That's the story the Counterpane Fairy showed me. And don't you know you did dream about the bubbles?"

Harriet was silent awhile as if pondering it, and then she said, "My canary-bird flew away this morning."

"Who let it out?" asked Teddy, with interest. "Did you?"

Harriett hesitated. "Well, I didn't exactly let it out," she said. "I guess I forgot to close the door after I cleaned its cage." Then she added hastily: "But mamma hung the cage outside the window, and she says she thinks maybe it'll come back unless someone has caught it."

Teddy wanted to hear a great deal more about the canary, but Harriett said she must go now, so he was left alone again to play with his toys.

After dinner his mother went down-town to buy a present for Harriett, for the next day was to be the little girl's birthday. Teddy wanted to get her a bag of marbles, but she thought perhaps she would be able to find something Harriett would like better than that. She would look about and see.

Before she went she made Teddy lie down on the bed, and covered him over with the silk quilt, so that he might rest for a while. Then she kissed him and told him to try to take a nap, and promised to be back soon.

After she had gone Teddy dozed comfortably for a while. Then he grew wide awake again, and turning over on his back he raised his knees into a hill, and lay looking out of the window, and wondering when mamma would come home, and what she would bring with her.

"You're not asleep, are you?' asked a little voice from his knees.

"Oh, Counterpane Fairy, I'm so glad you've come," cried Teddy, "for mamma has gone down-town, and I was just beginning to get lonely."

There was the familiar little figure in the brown cloak and hood, seated on top of the counterpane hill, and as he spoke she looked down on him smilingly. "I suppose the next thing will be a story," she said.

"Oh! will you show me one?" cried Teddy. "I wish you would, for I don't know when mamma will be home."

"Very well," said the fairy. "Perhaps I can show you one before she comes back. Which square shall it be this time?"

"I've had the red, and the yellow, and the green, and ever so many: I wonder if that brown one has a good story to it."

"You might choose it and see," said the fairy. So Teddy chose that one, and then the fairy began to count. "One, two, three, four, five," she counted, and so on and on until she reached "FORTY-NINE!"

* * * * * * * *

"Why, how funny!" cried Teddy.

He was nowhere at all but on the back door-step, and he sat there just as naturally as though he were not in a story at all. Then the back gate opened, and in through it came a little withered old woman, wearing a brown cloak, and a brown hood drawn over her head. "Why, Counterpane Fairy!" cried Teddy, but when she raised her head and looked at him he saw that it was not the Counterpane Fairy after all, but an old Italian woman carrying a basket on her arm.

"You buy something, leetle boy?" she said.

"I can't," said Teddy. "I haven't any money except what's in my bank, but I'll ask Hannah and maybe she will."

So saying he ran into the kitchen. The clock was ticking on the wall, and the room smelled of fresh-baked bread, but it was empty. Opening the door of the stairway, Teddy called, "Hannah! Hannah!" There was no answer; it all seemed strangely still upstairs. "She must have gone out," Teddy said to himself.

When he went back to the outside door the old Italian had put down her basket and was sitting on the step beside it. She did not seem at all surprised when he told her he could not find anyone. "You not find anyone, and you not have money," she said. "Then I tell you what I do; you put your hand in dis baskit, and I give you what you take; I make what you call 'present.'"

"Will you really?" cried Teddy.

"Yis," said the little old woman, smiling, and her smile was just like the smile of the Counterpane Fairy.

"And you'll give me whatever I take?"

"Yis," said the little old woman again.

Teddy put his hand in under the cover and caught hold of something hard and cold. He pulled and pulled at it, and out it came; it was a little iron shovel.

"You take something more," said the little old woman. Teddy hesitated, but when he looked at her again he saw that she really meant it, so he put his hand in and this time he pulled out a large iron key.

"Now try once more," said the little old woman, and this third time it was a rat-trap baited with cheese, that Teddy drew from the basket.

"But what shall I do with them?" he asked.

"You keep dem," said the old Italian, "and you find you need dem by and by." Then she rose, and pulling her cloak over the basket she took her staff in her other hand and hobbled down the pathway.

Teddy slipped the key into his pocket, and holding the shovel and the trap he ran down to the gate to open it for her. He stood looking after her as she went on down the street, her staff striking the bricks sharply, tap! tap! tap! Her back was certainly exactly like the Counterpane Fairy's.

As he walked slowly up the path swinging his shovel by the handle, he noticed that there was a rat-hole just back of the rain-butt, and he thought what fun it would be to dig it out, so he put the cage down on the ground and set to work with his shovel.

The earth broke away from the rat-hole in great clods, and he found it so easy to dig that very soon he had made quite a big hole.

Then he saw that down in this hole there was a flight of stone steps leading into the earth. "Why, isn't that funny!" said Teddy. "Right in the back yard, too. I wonder where they go!"

Tucking the shovel under his arm and taking the trap in his hand, Teddy stepped into the rat-hole and began to go down the stairs.

He went on down and down and down, and at last he came to an iron door, and it was locked. Teddy tried it and knocked, but there was no answer. He listened with his ear against it, but he heard nothing, and he was just about to turn and go up the stairs again, when he remembered the key the little old woman had given him.

He pulled it out of his pocket, and when he tried it in the keyhole it fitted exactly. He turned it, the door flew open, and Teddy stepped through.

Beyond was a cave, just such as he had often wished he could live in, with a rough table and chair, old kegs, and a heap of rubbish in one corner. On each side of the cave was a heavy door studded with iron nails. "I will just see where these doors lead to," said Teddy to himself, laying his trap and his shovel behind one of the kegs.

As he reached the first door and put his hand on it he heard someone singing the other side of it as sweetly and clearly as a bird, and this is what the voice sang:

"In field and meadow the grasses grow; The clouds are white and the winds they blow. Out in the world there is much to see, If I were but free! If I were but free!

"My wings were bright and my wings were strong; I plumed myself and I sang a song: Where is the hero to rescue me, And set me free? And set me free?"

The song ended and Teddy opened the door.

Within was another room that looked almost like the first, only there was a fireplace in it, and in front of this fireplace a young girl was sitting.

As soon as Teddy opened the door she looked over her shoulder, and when she saw him she sprang to her feet with a glad cry and clasped her hands. "Oh!" she cried, "have you come to rescue me?"

"Who are you?" asked Teddy, wondering at her.

She was very beautiful. Her eyes were as bright and black as a sloe, her hair shone like threads of pure gold, and she wore a long cloak of golden feathers over her shoulders.

When Teddy spoke she answered him, "I am Avis, the Bird-maiden."

"And how did you come here?" asked Teddy.

Then the Bird-maiden told him how she used to live in a golden castle that was all her own; how she ate from crystal dishes and bathed every morning in a little marble bath-tub, and had nothing to do all day but swing in her golden swing and sing for her own pleasure. But after a while she grew tired of all this and began to wonder what the outside world was like, and one the day the sun was so bright and the air so sweet that she left her home and flew out into the wide, wide world.

That was all very pleasant until she grew tired and sat down on a stone to rest. Then a great brown robber came and caught her and carried her down into his den, and there he kept her a prisoner in spite of her tears and prayers, and there she must wait on him and keep his house in order; every day he went out and left her along, coming back loaded down with food or golden treasure that he had stolen.

"But why don't you run away?" asked Teddy. "I would."

"Alas! I can't," said the Bird-maiden, "for whenever the robber-magician goes out he locks the door after him, and I have no key to open it."

Then Teddy told her that he had a key that would unlock the door and that he would save her.

The Bird-maiden was very glad, but she said they must make haste, for it was almost time for the robber to come home; so she wrapped her cloak around her, and Teddy took her by the hand and together they ran to the door.

They had hardly reached the outer cave, however, when Teddy heard a loud bang that echoed and re-echoed from the walls.

"Alas! Alas!" cried the Bird-maiden, shrinking back and beginning to wring her hands, "we are too late. There comes the robber, and now we will never escape."

She had scarcely said this when in marched the robber-magician sure enough. He wore a great soft hat pulled down over his face, and he had a long brown nose and little black beads of eyes. His mustache stuck out on each side like swords, and he carried a great sack over his shoulder.

The robber-magician threw the sack down on the floor and frowned at Teddy from under his hat. "How now!" he cried. "Who's this who has come down into my cavern without even so much as a 'by your leave'?"

Teddy felt rather frightened, but he spoke up bravely. "I'm Teddy," he said, "and I didn't know this was your cave. I thought it was just a rat-hole."

"A rat-hole!" cried the robber-magician, bursting into a roar of laughter. "A rat-hole! My cave a rat-hole! Ho! ho! ho!'

"Yes, I did," said Teddy, "and I didn't know it was yours, but if you want me to go I will."

"Not so fast," said the robber. "Sometimes it is easier to come into my cave than to go out, and you must sit down and have some supper with me now that you are here."

Teddy was quite willing to do that, for he was really hungry, so he and the robber drew chairs up to the table, and the Bird-maiden, at a gesture from the robber, picked up the sack that he had thrown upon the ground, and out from it she drew some pieces of bread and some bits of cold meat. It did not look particularly good, but it seemed to be all there was, so when the robber began to eat Teddy helped himself too.

The robber-magician did not take off his hat, and he ate very fast; after a while he leaned back in his chair and began to tell Teddy what a great magician he was, and about his treasure chamber.

"There," he said, "is where I keep my gold. I have gold, and gold, and gold, great bars and lumps and crusts of gold, all piled up in my treasure chamber." At last he rose, pushed back his chair, and bade Teddy follow him and he should see how great and rich he was.

Leading the way across the cave, he unlocked the third door, and flinging it open stepped back so that Teddy might look in. As he opened it a very curious smell came out.

Teddy stared and stared about the treasure chamber. "But where is the gold?" he said.

"There, right before your eyes," said the robber. "Don't you see it?"

"Why, that isn't gold. That's nothing but cheese," cried Teddy.

"Cheese! cheese!" cried the robber-magician, stamping his foot in a rage; "I tell you it's gold."

"It isn't! it's cheese!" said Teddy. "Look! I have some just like it; I'll show you," and running to the keg where he had left his trap he pulled it out and held it up for the robber to see.

As soon as the robber-magician saw the cheese in the trap his fingers began to work and his mouth to water. "Oh, what a fine rich piece of gold!" he cried. "How do you get it out?"

"I don't know," said Teddy. "I don't think it comes out."

"There must be some way," cried the robber. "Let me see," and taking the trap from Teddy he put it down on the floor and began to pick and pry at the bars, but he could not get the cheese out, and the more he tried the more eager he grew. "There's one way," he muttered to himself, looking up at Teddy suspiciously from under his slouch hat.

"How is that?' asked Teddy.

"If one were only a rat one could get at it fast enough," said the robber-magician.

"Yes, but you're not," said Teddy.

"All the same it might be managed," said the magician. Again he tore and tore at the bars, and he grew so eager that he seemed to forget about everything but the cheese. "I'll do it," he cried, "yes, I will." Then he laid of his great soft hat, and crossing his forefingers he cried:

"Innocent me! Innocent me! As I was once again I will be."

And now the magician's nose grew longer, his mustache grew thin and stiff like whiskers, his sword changed to a long tail, and in a minute he was nothing at all but a great brown rat that ran into the trap.

"Click!" went the trap, and there he was fastened in with the cheese.

It was in vain that he shook the bars and squeaked.

"Quick! quick!" cried the Bird-maiden, "let us escape before he can use his spells." She caught Teddy by the hand, and together they ran to the door that led to the stairway. "Your key! Oh, make haste!" cried the Bird-maiden, breathlessly.

In a moment Teddy had unlocked the door they had passed through, and it had swung to behind them. Up the stairs they ran, and there they were standing in the sunlight near the rain-butt.

"I am free! I am free!" cried the Bird-maiden, joyously. "Oh! thank you, little boy. And now for home." She caught the edges of her cloak and spread it wide, and as she did so it changed to wings, her head grew round and covered with feathers, and with a glad cry she sprang from the earth and flew up and away and out of sight through the sunlight.

"Why, it's Harriett's canary!" cried Teddy.

* * * * * * * *

"And now I must go," said the Counterpane Fairy.

Teddy was back in the India-room. The sun was low, and a broad band of pale sunlight lay across the foot of the bed. The fairy was just starting down the counterpane hill.

"Was it really Harriett's canary?" asked Teddy.

"I haven't time to talk of that now," cried the Counterpane Fairy, "for I hear your mother coming. Good-bye! good-bye!"

And sure enough she had scarcely disappeared behind the counterpane hill when his mamma came in.

"Oh, Mamma!" cried Teddy, "do you think Harriett's canary came back?

"I don't know, dear," said his mother. Then she put a little package into his hand. "Do you think Harriett will like that?" she asked.

When Teddy opened the bundle he saw a cunning little bisque doll that sat in a little tin bath-tub. You could take the doll out and dress it, or you could really bathe it in the tub.

"Oh! isn't that cute!" cried Teddy, with delight. "Won't little Cousin Harriett be pleased!"

"I hope she will," said mamma.



CHAPTER TENTH. THE COUNTERPANE FAIRY SAYS GOOD-BYE.

TEDDY was to go out-doors the next day if it was mild and pleasant. The doctor had come in that morning for the last time to see him. "Well, my little man," he had said, giving Teddy's cheek a pinch, "can't be pretending you're a sick boy any longer with cheeks and eye like these. Now we'll have you back at school in no time, and then I suppose you'll be up to all your old tricks again."

Later on the little boy had gone downstairs for dinner, for the first time since he had been ill. Everything there had looked very strange to him, and as if he had not seen it for years.

He had felt just as well as ever until he tried to chase the cat, Muggins, down the hall, and then his legs had given way in a funny, weak fashion that made him laugh.

After dinner Muggins followed him upstairs, and curling down under a chair went fast asleep. Teddy took his blocks and built them about the chair, so that when the cat woke he found himself built up inside a little house.

However, a door had been left, and he poked his nose and his paw through it, and then the whole front wall went down with a noisy clatter, and Muggins scampered down to the kitchen with his tail on end. Teddy had to laugh; he looked so funny.

Papa came home from his office earlier than usual that afternoon, bringing with him a bundle of long, smooth sticks and a roll of tissue papers, and spent all the rest of the time between that and supper in making a great kite for Teddy. He told the little boy that if the next day were fine he would fly it for him, and that he might ask some of the boys to come and help.

Teddy had never seen such a large kite before. When papa stood it up it was a great deal taller than the little boy himself. The gold star that was pasted on where the sticks crossed was just on a level with his eyes.

So much seemed to have happened that day that very soon after supper Teddy felt tired and was quite willing to let mamma undress him and put him to bed.

It felt very good to lie down between the cool sheets again, and very soon Teddy's eyelids began to blink heavily, and he was already drifting off into that blissful feeling that comes just as one is going to sleep, when he became dimly conscious of a faint sound of music.

At first, half asleep as he was, he thought that it must be little Cousin Harriett winding up the music-box in the room, and then he suddenly started into consciousness with the remembrance that he was alone and that it couldn't be Cousin Harriett. She was at home; in bed perhaps, already.

The music seemed to sound quite near him, and it was very sweet and soft. Now that he was awake it sounded more like the voice of the singing garden than anything else.

Suddenly a faint rosy light appeared at the foot of the bed, and standing in it was the most beautiful lady that Teddy had ever seen. She was quite tall,—as tall as his own mother, and not even the fairy Rosine, or the Bird-maiden,—no, nor the Princess Aureline herself, had been half as beautiful.

But though the lady was so lovely there was something very familiar about her face. "Why, Counterpane Fairy!" cried Teddy.

The Counterpane Fairy, for it was indeed she, did not speak, but smiling at Teddy she moved softly and smoothly, as though swept along by the music to the side of the bed, and, still smiling, she bent above the little boy.

As he looked up into the face that leaned above him, it seemed to change in some strange way, and now it was the old Italian woman who had given him the presents from her basket; a moment after it was the face of the little child who had talked with him upon the rainbow; no, it was not; it was really the Counterpane Fairy herself, and no one else.

Closer and closer she leaned above him, seeming to enfold him with faint music and light and perfume. "Good-bye," she whispered softly. "Good-bye! little boy."

"Oh, Counterpane Fairy! where are you going? Don't go away!" cried Teddy.

"I'm not going away," said the fairy. "I shall be beside you still just as often as ever, only you won't see me."

"But won't there be any more stories?" cried Teddy, in dismay.

"Sometime, perhaps," said the Counterpane Fairy, "but not now, for to-morrow you'll be out and playing with the other boys, and after that it will be your school and your games that you'll be thinking of."

"Oh, Counterpane Fairy, don't go!" cried Teddy again, reaching out his arms toward her; but they touched nothing but empty air. Waving her hand to him and still smiling, the Counterpane Fairy slowly, slowly faded away. With her too, faded the rosy light and the perfume that had filled the room; only the faint sound of music was left. Then it too died away.

Teddy sat up and looked about him. The room was very still and dim. He heard nothing but the ticking of the clock. The half-moon had sailed up above the dark tops of the pine-trees on the lawn outside, and by its light he saw the great kite that papa had made him, as it stood propped up on the mantle. The gilt star in the middle of it shone.

It was true that he was no longer a little sick child. To-morrow he would be out-of-doors again, and shouting and playing with all the other boys.

THE END