"How lovely they are!" thought Phil. "And so these really are fairies. I never saw any before. They have wings like little white butterflies, and how tiny their hands and feet, and what graceful motions they have as they dance over my harp! They seem to be examining it to find out where the music comes from; but no, of course they know all about it. I wonder if they would talk to me?"
"Of course we will be very glad to," said a soft little voice in reply to his thoughts.
"I was afraid I would frighten you away if I spoke," said Phil, gently.
"Oh no," replied the fairy who had addressed him; "We are in the habit of talking to children, though they do not always know it."
"And what do you tell them?" asked Phil, eagerly.
"Do you tell them all they want to know?"
"Oh no," laughed the fairy, with a silvery little voice like a canary-bird's. "We cannot do that, for we do not know enough to be able to: some children are much wiser than we. I dare say you are."
"Indeed I am not," said Phil, a little sadly; "There are so many things that puzzle me. I thought that perhaps, as you came from the stars, you knew something of astronomy."
"What a long, long word that is!" laughed the fairy again. "but we are wind fairies; and yet the Father of the Winds is called Astraeus: that sounds something like your long word, does it not?"