There was once a little girl who was not like other girls at all; for instead of running and jumping and dancing, she could only walk a little way, and she had to have two crutches to help her. All day long she sat in her chair and kept quite busy reading, or playing “just pretend;” for you know when you play “pretend,” you can change yourself to a fairy, or a bird, or an enchanted princess, or anything you have in mind; and then, of course, the time passes swiftly. So the little girl’s days passed pleasantly. But at night, after she was in her bed, and the house was quiet, and every one asleep, the pain would come, and that was so dreadful that the tears would follow. Now the little girl’s hands were lame, and it was difficult to wipe away the tears; so that she had to leave them in her eyes, and sometimes because of them she could not see the kind old moon that shone down on her bed, or the bright stars that danced and sparkled for her.
One night the little girl was very sorrowful, for she had heard the doctor telling her mother that she would never be any better, and that she might live many years before the kind death-angel came for her.
“Open your eyes wide and look at me.”
And now the tears had entirely blotted out the moonlight; everything was in a blur. She was trying to brush them away, when the sweetest, softest voice said, “Do not brush them away, dear; open your eyes wide and look at me.”
She did as the voice commanded, and saw the loveliest, strangest lady that one can imagine. She was so tall, so fair, with such bright eyes, smiling lips, soft waving hair; and she seemed made of some material so fine and delicate, that the little girl felt that, if she would try to smooth her face or clasp her hand, she would feel only substance light as air.
Her dress was a soft, floating, waving material like the most delicate chiffon; it waved and floated about her with every motion. She bent down and kissed the little girl’s forehead, and the kiss was like a soft breath of damp air on her face. The sweet voice spoke.
“If you had wiped the tears away, you could not have seen me, for I am one of the children of the Mist. Come with me, little Princess of tears; you shall be one of us, and I will show you where we dwell.”
So the little girl took the Mist Lady’s hand, and they passed through an open window.
The little girl found herself floating softly along through the moonlight beside her companion. Her garments were like the lady’s, of the softest, finest, misty chiffon, and seemed to bear her up as though she floated on a fleecy cloud.