Look to the Star that shines above,
E’en though you cull the flowers below.”
“I wonder if they mean our Star of Love,” said little Cis.
“Perhaps so,” said Hal, “though I don’t see it anywhere just now.”
Hal stooped down to where the little dwarfs were hiding themselves under the leaves, but somehow they and the big stalks seemed to get all mixed up, and he then could see nothing but the stalks, and began to think he must have dreamt all the rest.
Just then a Maori hen, with an inquisitive air, came out of the fern, and Hal, seeing it, cried out,—
“By-the-bye, old thief, where are those buttons of mine you stole?”
“I don’t know,” replied the hen. Indignant mutterings were uttered by some other hens gathering round:—
“We never stole any buttons, it must have been some country cousin of ours; we never think of stealing anything,” protested the crowd indignantly.