"'I never dreamed he could move so fast and I was too surprised to get out of his way. If you have ever had a firefly on your hand you know how sticky their legs feel. Well, the old firefly held me by all his legs, squeezing me tight and mussing my party feathers. Lifting me off the ground, he flew away with me, scolding all the while.

"'"You are a vicious little vagabond," he said. I don't know what he meant, but those are the very words he used and I know they meant something disagreeable. He thought I had blown out his light, just for mischief. "But you shall be punished for it," he went on. "I'll see to it. I shall take you to the King himself!"

"'I grew more and more frightened. His voice was so very cross and he clutched me so tight. Then, too, we were flying along through the dark over fields I had never visited before. I have always been afraid in the dark' (here the little girl nodded her head understandingly and looked about her at the bright sunshine gratefully). 'And the gra.s.ses rustled so queerly. I began to be afraid that they, too, meant to do me harm.

"'At last, after we had been flying for what seemed to me to be hours, we reached a sort of open place, all bare and cold looking, with high rocks all about it. There were thousands of fireflies inside this place, all with their lanterns brightly burning. On one side a great many flies were bunched together to light a kind of throne, and on this throne sat the King and Queen of the Fireflies. My heart was in my mouth as my captor carried me across to them, for the King was ever so much bigger than any of the other fireflies and I did not know what he might do to punish me.

"'There were two or three other fireflies talking to the King, but they all stopped and moved aside when they saw the old firefly coming up with his lantern gone out, and carrying me.

"'"Why, what's this, what's this?" asked the King in a surprised voice as the fly sank down, all out of breath, at the foot of the throne.

"'"Oh, Your Majesty," he gasped, as soon as he could get breath enough to speak, "I was hunting for corn-flowers down in the big meadow, trying to find enough honey to finish my supper before it grew too dark, for you know I am growing old and my light was giving out."

"'"Yes, yes, I know," replied the King kindly. "We have all felt very sorry about it. And I am greatly shocked to see that it has now gone out altogether."

"'"Ah, but hear how that happened, Your Majesty. I was hunting about, very busy and never dreaming of the dreadful thing that was to happen, when this little creature"-he did not call me a vicious little vagabond to the King, but his voice sounded as if he would like to-"stole up behind me and blew out my light!"

"'Everybody exclaimed at this and crowded about the old firefly to tell him how sorry they were. I was sorry too, as sorry as I could be, for I had not known that the firefly's light was dim because he was growing old. I had not meant any harm, but rather to help him. I tried to explain this to the fireflies but no one would listen when I talked about the gnomes and their forge fires. I thought the Queen was listening, for she kept looking at me; but she did not say anything.

"'The King ordered me off to prison, and appointed the old fly, whose light I had blown out, to be my keeper. There were two other guards to the prison too, and it was horrid. My prison was a long, narrow crack in one of the brown rocks and I don't know how long a time I spent there.

It seemed like years. At the back, very cold and dark indeed, was my bed. The front looked down on the open s.p.a.ce which, I learned, was called the throne glade, and one could see everything that went on. But the two keepers always sat one on each side of the door, and the old fly in the middle so that I could not see out. If the King went by, or anything interesting happened, I would try to peep over their shoulders, but the guards scolded me so and made such unkind remarks that I was ready to cry.

"'It was a dreadful time. I was getting thinner, for I was not used to living in the dark and I did not like the things they gave me to eat. My wings were getting so weak from not being used that I began to be afraid they would never hold me up again.

"'The only thing that was at all pleasant was a visit from the Queen.

She was very kind and said that she had heard what I said about not meaning to injure the old fly, but that I must understand that almost as much harm and sorrow happened in the world through "not meaning to" as from real naughtiness. She said that it is always dangerous to meddle with things we don't know about and most dangerous of all to meddle with fire. And I promised her that I would never do it again.

"'The keepers were a little more kind to me after the Queen's visit and I tried to show the old firefly, whose lamp I had blown out, that I was sorry. I was hoping that the Queen would send some one to set me free, but she did not and it was very lonely. I began to be afraid I should have to stay in that gloomy prison all the rest of my life.

"'Then, one day, a young firefly came bustling up to the prison in great excitement. The King and Queen had been invited to a big party given by the June beetles, and all the fireflies were asked to go along to help light up the party. The June beetle's country was pretty far off and the fireflies would have to start early in the afternoon to reach it before dark. Every single one of them was to go except my old keeper, who was left to guard me.

"'"Of course I would not be wanted anyhow," I heard him say crossly.

"I'm of no use without my lantern."

"'I was very sorry that the poor old fly had to stay behind and miss the party, but I realized that my chance had come to escape. So, every day, while the three guards sat in the doorway, busy watching what went on below and talking about the party, I stayed in the dark corner beside my bed and exercised my wings by lifting myself up to the ceiling and down again on them, to bring back the strength.

"'At last the day of the party arrived and every single firefly had gone except my old keeper and me. We sat side by side in the doorway and watched the sun go down. I really think the old fly was as unhappy to have me sit in the doorway as he had been to miss the party. But he could not fill up the whole doorway by himself, although he crowded me a great deal, nor could he forbid me to stay there, so I sat and looked down at the throne glade and tried to see where the opening was that led back to the world.

"'It always got dark early in this place and as soon as the sun had set, the old fly got up and said I must go to bed. I got up without saying anything and he turned around and started back toward my bed, thinking that I was following right behind. You remember that his light was out and he could not see.

"'But I did not lose a second of time. The instant his back was turned I spread my wings and flew down into the throne glade. My poor wings were so weak that I almost fell, but they soon got stronger as I skimmed through the fresh air. The old fly did not miss me at first, and I had time to get out through the narrow opening of the glade before he realized what had happened and started to follow me.

"'My wings grew stronger every minute, and I was oh, so happy to be free and on my way back to my own dear, sunshiny world again, that I did not feel a bit frightened when presently I heard the blind old fly coming after me. He was oh, so cross! He could not see me at all and could only tell where I was by the rustle of my wings. But although he was older than I he was stronger and could fly faster. I heard him coming closer and closer. What if I should be captured again! I should die, I knew!

"'On I flew, faster and faster, and at last I found myself again in the field of high gra.s.ses near the edge of which I had first seen the old fly. The noises and darkness of the gra.s.ses had frightened me then, but now they seemed like home to me. I was too tired to fly another inch, so I just dropped down, right into the middle of a clump of gra.s.ses.

"'It was now much too dark to see anything and the gra.s.ses made such a rustle in the wind that the old firefly did not miss the sound of my wings at first and had flown quite some distance ahead before he realized that I was not in front of him any longer. Then, how angry he was! He knew that I must be hiding somewhere near by, and he went b.u.mping back and forth over the field, hitting his poor head against stalks and getting crosser every minute. He flew quite close to me two or three times and I held my breath for fear he would pounce upon me.

But after a long, long time he gave up hunting for me and flew angrily away.

"'And not any too soon, either, for the moon came out presently and shone so bright that he could have seen me down in the clump of gra.s.ses at once. I waited until I was quite sure that he was out of sight and would not come back, then I sprang up and flew home as fast as my poor weak wings would carry me. And you may be sure that I have kept out of the way of fireflies ever since.'

"Thistledown stopped talking, quite out of breath and tired with his long story.

"'It was a very interesting story,' said the little girl, 'and I thank you very much for telling it to me. And I'll remember, too, what the Queen of the Fireflies told you about not meddling,' she added thoughtfully.

"Then the little girl stood up, still holding Thistledown gently in her chubby hand.

"'I am going to do what you did to the firefly-only I hope it won't hurt you,' she said. 'Get behind you and say pouf-like that,' and puffing out her rosy cheeks, she sent Thistledown sailing merrily away through the warm, sunshiny air."

Letty ended her story with a little laugh.

"I feel as out of breath as Thistledown did, when he had finished his adventure," she laughed.

"Ho!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Christopher, who had nearly burst in his effort to keep his promise not to interrupt. "He couldn't have blown out the old firefly's lamp. They're not made that way. They're a part of the firefly-the light they make, I mean. The person who wrote that story did not know very much about beetles and things."

The curtains parted in an up-stairs window and a smiling face looked down upon them.

"I know who wrote the story, Kit," called Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. "Can you guess?" she asked merrily.

Letty looked up with her face all aglow, enlightened by Mrs.

Hartwell-Jones's expression.

"Oh, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones," she exclaimed, "you don't mean to say that you wrote it!"

"Yes," laughed the lady gayly. "I wrote it ever so many years ago. How wonderfully you remembered it, my dear."

"I loved it," replied Letty simply. "But I should never have believed it then if any one had told me that some day I should know the writer," and she sighed happily.

"I'll write another one some time-just for you and Janey," promised Mrs.

Hartwell-Jones. "And now wouldn't you children like to drive Punch and Judy into the village to carry some of my things to Mr. Parsons' house?"

The twins jumped up with a whoop. They were always delighted to go for a drive in the pony carriage.

CHAPTER XI

CHRISTOPHER GOES FOR THE MAIL

When Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty drove away from Sunnycrest in the pony carriage, amid a general waving of pocket handkerchiefs and shouts of farewell, everybody looked at everybody else rather blankly, as if something had happened and n.o.body was quite sure just what it was.

"Mrs. Hartwell-Jones said that we had done so much to brighten her life," grandmother told grandfather, when they were talking it all over on the veranda that afternoon. "But it seems to be the other way on. It is she who has done us all good. We shall all miss her and Letty, each for different reasons. I enjoyed my talks with Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and the children were perfectly happy with Letty."

"We shall all of us miss Letty," agreed grandfather.

"Yes, Jane is disconsolate and Huldah declares that her cake will never be so good again."