“This was a very big word for such a little girl, but she got it out quite correctly. Besides, she knew very well what the word meant, because she had seen it so often on the back of a book on her sister’s book-shelf. ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.’
“Thistledown squirmed and wriggled and began to grow warm and cross.
“‘I don’t know any stories. And I never had any adventures—except once,’ he added, remembering something all at once.
“‘Oh, please do tell me about it,’ coaxed the little girl.
“She looked so pretty, and besides, she held him so firmly, that Thistledown saw that the sooner he told his story the sooner he would be free, so he began at once:
“‘It happened so long ago that I may forget parts, but I’ll tell it the best I know how. I was flying home from a party one afternoon and as it was almost dark I was in a good deal of a hurry. Pretty soon, down at the edge of a field of tall grasses, I saw an old firefly poking about as if he were looking for something. I stopped to see what was the matter, for it was too dark to hope to find anything, and the old firefly’s lantern gave out hardly any light at all.
“‘I supposed his light was dim because the old fellow was too lazy to make it shine brighter. I had seen the gnomes blowing up their forge fires with a pair of bellows to make them burn brighter and I supposed the firefly’s lantern worked the same way. So I got behind the old fellow as he stooped to look under a clump of violet leaves, and I gave a quick, sharp little blow—pouf—like that, at his lantern. But what do you suppose happened? It went out!
“‘I was terribly surprised and a bit frightened, for that horrid old firefly thought that I had done it on purpose. He whirled around before I could spread my wings, and caught hold of me.
“‘“You wicked, wicked little sprite!” he exclaimed, almost squeezing the breath out of me. “How dared you, oh, how dared you!”
“‘I never dreamed he could move so fast and I was too surprised to get out of his way. If you have ever had a firefly on your hand you know how sticky their legs feel. Well, the old firefly held me by all his legs, squeezing me tight and mussing my party feathers. Lifting me off the ground, he flew away with me, scolding all the while.