side to the other.

[Illustration: The Sand-fairy blew himself out]

"Not so bad," it said dreamily. "But really, Robert, you're not quite
such an angel as you look." Robert almost blushed.

The wings were very big, and more beautiful than you can possibly
imagine--for they were soft and smooth, and every feather lay neatly in
its place. And the feathers were of the most lovely mixed changing
colors, like the rainbow, or iridescent glass, or the beautiful scum
that sometimes floats on water that is not at all nice to drink.

"Oh--but how can we fly?" Jane said, standing anxiously first on one
foot and then on the other.

"Look out!" said Cyril; "you're treading on my wing."

"Does it hurt?" asked Anthea with interest; but no one answered, for
Robert had spread his wings and jumped up, and now he was slowly rising
in the air. He looked very awkward in his knickerbocker suit--his boots
in particular hung helplessly, and seemed much larger than when he was
standing in them. But the others cared but little how he looked,--or how
they looked, for that matter. For now they all spread out their wings
and rose in the air. Of course you all know what flying feels like,
because everyone has dreamed about flying, and is seems so beautifully
easy--only, you can never remember how you did it; and as a rule you
have to do it without wings, in your dreams, which is more clever and
uncommon, but not so easy to remember the rule for. Now the four
children rose flapping from the ground, and you can't think how good the