Hal's eyes were good and his faith was great.
"Zes, zes," he cried. "I does see it—kite plain, Peggy."
"Well, Hallie," Peggy continued, "that's my secret."
"Is it the fairy cottage, and is the little girl zere now?" Hal asked, breathlessly.
Peggy hesitated.
"It is a white cottage," she said. "Mamma told me. She looked at it through a seeing pipe."
"What's a seeing pipe?" Hal interrupted.
"I can't tell you just now. Ask mamma to show you hers some day. It's too difficult to understand, but it makes you see things plain. And mamma found out it was reelly a cottage, a white cottage, all alone up on the hill—isn't it sweet of it to be there all alone, Hallie? And she said I might think it was a fairy cottage and keep it for my own secret, only I've telled you, Hal, and you mustn't tell nobody."
"And is it all like Baby's best sash, and are there cakes and f'owers and cows?" asked Hal.
"I don't know. I made up the story, you know, Hal, to please you. I've made lots—mamma said I might. But I've never see'd the cottage, you know. I daresay it's beautiful, white and gold like the story, that's why I said it. It does so shine when the sun's on it—look, look, Hal!"