"I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland, and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come, and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained Phil.
"And was it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.
Griselda shook her head as she replied—
"Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough. The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it for ourselves, mustn't we?"
She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that she understood.
"Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly. "But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."
Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil away, are you?" she whispered.
"No, I have come to stay here," she answered; "and Phil's father is coming too,
soon. We are going to live at the White House—the house on the other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad, children?"