He looked so cheerful and lively as he hopped about on his bed of dried grass, with his black eyes twinkling, and a bandage of bindweed holding his tail firmly in place till it was well, that Eva laughed aloud, and at the pleasant sound all the sick things smiled and seemed better.
Rows of pale flowers stood in one place, and elves watered them, or tied up broken leaves, or let in the sunshine to cure their pains,—for these delicate invalids needed much care; and Mignonette was the name of the nurse who watched over them, like a little Sister of Charity, with her gray gown and sweet face.
"You have seen enough. Come to school now, and see where we are taught all that fairies must know," said Trip, the elf who was guiding her about.
In a pleasant place they found the child elves sitting on pink daisies with their books of leaves in their hands, while the teacher was a Jack-in-the-pulpit, who asked questions, and was very wise. Eva nodded to the little ones, and they smiled at the stranger as they rustled their books and pretended to study busily.
A class in arithmetic was going on, and Eva listened to questions that none but elves would care to know.
"Twinkle, if there were fifteen seeds on a dandelion, and the wind blew ten away, how many would be left?"
"Five."
"Bud, if a rose opens three leaves one day, two the next, and seven the next, how many in all?"
"Eleven."
"Daisy, if a silk-worm spins one yard of fairy cloth in an hour, how many can he spin in a day?"