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And so the story went on. All the wholesome things of the country that children like had come from one and another. And each had been as happy in giving as Billy could possibly be in receiving. The fairies, gnomes, and elves, danced, sang, and retired; elves and gnomes crouching close against trees and rocks, the fairies withdrawing only to reappear one by one as the music went on, here and there, high in the trees; and each had a tiny light on her brow. But just over Flora and Sun, poised and upheld by invisible wires, stood the Queen of the Fairies, crown, wand, and shoulders fire-tipped, her arms waving, her filmy draperies continually fluttering, fanned by an artificial breeze. Over all fell a rain of rose leaves. Choosing a piece of bright yellow chalk she began to inscribe the golden text on the blackboard. She pressed too hard and the chalk cracked and fell to the floor. Pete Stolway vaulted out of his chair to capture the yellow pencil, but he had the misfortune to step on both the pieces of crayon, crushing them to sand, a heap of yellow grit..
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“But if your steamer works you don’t want its secrets peddled round; and girls always blab.” “Too much?” he interrupted; “is anything I have in this world too much to give for the life of my wife and child? Didn’t your son save them both? Save May Nell from—” He turned away and did not attempt to finish his sentence. St. Elmo looked at the specimens in his hand. “These pansies is most deaded. I fink I’ll fwow them away,” he declared. “Now you’re Fair Ellen and I’m defending you at Goblin Cave!” He thrust her behind him, held her tight with one arm, while he flourished the carving knife and called on Clan Alpine’s foes to appear..
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