"Dear Fancy," said the Queen, placing her hand tenderly upon Charley's shoulder, "here is a lovely mortal who has suffered from his infancy; but all his pain has not been sufficient to sour his temper, or conquer his gratitude and love for the blessings and mercies which remain to him. As flowers spring from the dust, so have love, and truth, and every noble quality, sprung from the dark and bitter suffering of his life. For this I love him, and will strive to make the few days left to him on earth less sad, less painful; and I will do this by showing him all our fairy life. I have sent for you to ask you to exhibit, for his amusement, some magic bubbles; I would like him to look at them now."
For answer, the little elf bowed gracefully, dipped her pipe in the foaming dew, and began to breathe softly through the stem.
Soon the thin bubble rose in the twinkling fire-fly light. At first it was all of a gray-dark color; but out of this dark, like the sun breaking through the mist, bright golden and ruby tints began to appear.
It grew in size and splendor, till at last the fairy gently waving the pipe, the bubble slowly and gracefully floated away, and up a little, and then poised itself, and rested just before Charley.
It was like a moving picture in an oval frame. Within appeared a large and handsome parlor; a number of beautiful little children were grouped about the room, evidently waiting for some event to happen. Presently a baby-boy entered—a perfect bud of beauty. His fine and snowy-white garment was daintily embroidered and trimmed after a most royal fashion, with ivy leaves. Upon his beautiful head, crowned with light and lovely pale golden curls, was a wreath also of ivy.
With his luminous starry eyes uplifted, and the dimples peeping in and out of his rose-pink cheeks, he went around and offered a welcoming kiss to every one in the room. It was his birthday. Two sweet, happy years, had been unfurled in his little life, and the children were now gathered together in honor of the event.
Charley gazed with lips apart, intent and eager.
All at once he exclaimed,—
"Why! it is Howard! little Howard! Why, yes! and there is sweet little Carrie, his sister, with the beautiful wreath of roses, and the roses on her dress! Oh! what wonders I am seeing!"
As he spoke, a lady entered, Howard's loving and lovely mother, with an immense paper bag, and proceeded to fasten it to the chandelier in the centre of the ceiling; then some one else came in, and spread a large white sheet upon the carpet immediately underneath.