"Ah!" said my father one day, when he found me ranging the ivory parallelograms in the parlor, "ah! you like that better than all your playthings, eh?"
"Oh, yes, papa!"
"You would be very sorry if your mamma were to throw that box out of the window and break it for fun." I looked beseechingly at my father, and made no answer.
"But perhaps you would be very glad," he resumed, "if suddenly one of those good fairies you read of could change the domino-box into a beautiful geranium in a beautiful blue-and-white flower-pot, and you could have the pleasure of putting it on your mamma's window-sill."
"Indeed I would!" said I, half-crying.
"My dear boy, I believe you; but good wishes don't mend bad actions: good actions mend bad actions."
So saying, he shut the door and went out. I cannot tell you how puzzled I was to make out what my father meant by his aphorism. But I know that I played at dominos no more that day. The next morning my father found me seated by myself under a tree in the garden; he paused, and looked at me with his grave bright eyes very steadily.
"My boy," said he, "I am going to walk to—,"a town about two miles off: "will you come? And, by the by, fetch your domino-box. I should like to show it to a person there." I ran in for the box, and, not a little proud of walking with my father upon the high-road, we set out.
"Papa," said I by the way, "there are no fairies now."
"What then, my child?"