"Oh, shurrup!" growled her brother. "Much better lend me your paint-box."
But she didn't hear him; taken up with her fancies she continued excitedly—
"I know what I'll do. I'll try and tempt her to come. Perhaps I may even have a fairy godmother without knowing it!"
And she began to dance about, singing—
"Tra-la-la, fairy godmother,
Come to me now, I pray;
Visit a little girl who is longing for you
And will do anything you want.
Tra-la-la, fairy godmother, come."
It wasn't very good poetry, but Norah hadn't time to polish it up.
"Oh, I say! How can I do my lessons with all this going on?" exclaimed Wilfrid. And flinging his things together he bounced out of the room and banged the door behind him.
Norah wasn't sorry he was gone, and danced once more all round the room singing; then knelt down, and, stretching out her arms towards the crocuses which were so stiff and upright in their indifference, she said plaintively—
"Come, dear fairy godmother, I want you!"
And lo! between Norah and the window there suddenly appeared a little old woman in a long cloak, whose features were hidden by the large hood she wore.