"This is Titania," said the little fellow proudly, snuggling his hand into his aunt's. "She knows more fairy tales than there are in all the books. You never heard such lovely tales as she can tell. Another, please, Titania!"
"Not now, darling."
"Please, please! The one about the moon maiden and the stars."
The dark eyes were pleading, and the small mouth quivered. The child looked too ill to be reasoned with.
"Don't mind us," blurted out Marjorie, with a catch in her voice. Dona was blinking some tear-drops out of her eyes.
Then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Norton, beforetime the cold, self-contained, strict house mistress, dropped her mask of reserve, and, throwing a tender arm round Eric, began a tale of elves and fairies. She told it well, too, with a pretty play of fancy, and an understanding of a child's mind. He listened with supreme satisfaction.
"Isn't it lovely?" he said, turning in triumph to the girls when the story was finished.
"We must trot now, darling," said his aunt, laying him gently back on the pillow. "What? More presents? You lucky boy! Suppose you open them after we've gone. You'll be such a tired childie if you get too excited. I'll send Lizzie up to you. Say good-bye to your fairy ladies."
"Good-bye, darling Bluebell! Good-bye, darling Silverstar! When am I going to see you again?"
Ah, when indeed? thought Dona and Marjorie, as they walked down the steep dark stairs of the little inn.