"Fairy Godmother," said Barbara, "I should like a drink."
Fairy Godchild
"Fairy Godchild," answered Eloise, "you shall have one. What do you want—rose-dew, lilac-honey, or a golden lily full of clear, cool water?"
"I'll take the water, please," laughed Barbara, "but I want more than a lily full."
Eloise brought a glass of water and managed to give it to Barbara without spilling more than a third of it upon her. "What a pretty neck and what glorious shoulders you have," she commented, as she wiped up the water with her handkerchief. "How lovely you'd look in an evening gown."
"Don't try to divert me," said Barbara, with affected sternness. "I'm wet, and I'm likely to take cold and die."
"I'm not afraid of your dying after you've lived through what you have. Allan says you're the bravest little thing he has ever seen."
The deep colour dyed Barbara's pale face. "I'm not brave," she whispered; "I was horribly afraid, but I thought that, even if I were, I could keep people from knowing it."
"If that isn't real courage," Eloise assured her, "it's so good an imitation that it would take an expert to tell the difference."