"Oh, don't!" cried the boy, half distressed by the oft-repeated thanks. "If you only knew how we like it! It's so jolly, you know. Besides," he added, "I want you to do something for me now, Mr. Baldhead, so that will turn the tables. A shower is coming up, and it is early yet, so I need not go home for an hour. So, will you not tell us a story? We are very fond of stories,—Bruin and Pigeon Pretty and I."
"A story! a story!" cried every one, eagerly.
"A story, hey?" said the good hermit, smiling. "With all my heart, dear lad! And what shall the story be about?"
"About fairies!" replied Toto, promptly. "I have not heard a fairy story for a long time."
"So be it!" said the hermit, after a moment's reflection. "When I was a boy like you, Toto, I lived in Ireland, the very home of the fairy-folk; so I know more about them than most people, perhaps, and this is an Irish fairy story that I am going to tell you."
And settling himself comfortably on his moss-pillows, the hermit began the story of—
CHAPTER XIII.
GREEN JACKET.