“And floats them to you upon dew?” asked Mr. Wake, “or does a spider throw them to you with a silver, silken thread?”
“No,” I responded, “she puts a blue charm on the upper right hand corner, and the letter comes to me!”
“And something of a marvel at that,” commented Mr. Wake. Then he dismissed fancies, and added, “You have heard from her?”
“Twice,” I answered, “I had a letter yesterday, and one that was posted only an hour after it came to-day.”
“I’ve a certain feeling—a want for seeing how fairy godmothers write,” said Mr. Wake.
“It’s in my pocket,” I told him, and we stopped and I fumbled around until I found the large, stiff square.
“There—” I said. Mr. Wake took it.
“No doubt you think me a strange old chap,” he said.
“Oh, no,” I answered, “a great many people are interested in writing nowadays.”
“It isn’t that, but your fairy godmother brought to my mind the years when I believed in fairies. . . . A very nice writing, isn’t it? I think it is most charming, don’t you, Jane?”