“I’ve been with you all the time,” she said. “I wish I could do something more for you. Is there anything you want?”
The great Mathematician who was Edwin ran his hand over his thin hair.
“No,” he said, “no.” And then he remembered the school and Simpkins minor and the old desk he used to keep firework fusees in. “Unless,” he added, “you could make me young again.”
She dropped a little tear, clear as a solved problem.
“I can’t do that,” she said. “You can’t have everything. The only person who could do that for you is the Love Fairy. If you had found her instead of me you would have been always young, but you wouldn’t have invented the Hypernebular Hypothesis.”
“I suppose I shall never never find her now?” said Edwin, and as he spoke he looked out of the window to the garden, where a girl was gathering roses.
“I wonder!” said she. “The Love Fairy doesn’t live in schooldesks or books on Fourth Dimensions.”
“I wonder!” said Edwin. “Does the Love Fairy live in gardens?”
“I wonder!” echoed the Arithmetic Fairy, a little sadly, and she spread her bright wings and flew out of the open window and out of this story.