Kitty clapped her hands against her ears, not to hear her naughty sprite crying out “Silly, silly!” She was surrounded by the children; they tried to force sweet, cool fruit and sugar-plums between her lips. All the while that craving for good things that was not hunger or thirst fought against her like a wolf; but she went blindly on resisting.
How long the struggle lasted she could not tell, but all at once Kitty knew her enemies had left her.
That faint peal of distant Christmas bells again sounded in her ear, and looking up she found herself on the steep and narrow path, the star shining above her.
“Conquered! conquered! Good old Kitsy! good old Kitsy!” sang her guardian child, in the old familiar comforting words, as he fanned her with his rosy wings. He seemed brighter, rosier than ever.
The sprite glared at her with wild eyes, full of disappointment.
“I shall never reach my journey’s end,” cried Kitty, bursting into tears. “If I could but rest a little while—just a little while—before going on further through that dreadful wood.”
“Look, you may rest; the star has stopped,” said her guardian child, pointing.