was angry with him. How unkind he was to say that--but I wasn't always
kind to him. And once I said that I wished a bear would eat Pierre up.
That was because he broke my cup. Oh, dear, oh, dear. What a bad girl
I've been to them all."

"But you could be better and kinder if you tried, couldn't you?" said
the inward voice. "I think you could."

And Toinette clasped her hands tight and said out loud: "I could.
Yes--and I will."

The first thing to be done was to get rid of the fern-seed which she
now regarded as a hateful thing. She untied her shoes and shook it out
in the grass. It dropped and seemed to melt into the air, for it
instantly vanished. A mischievous laugh sounded close behind, and a
beetle-green coat-tail was visible whisking under a tuft of rushes. But
Toinette had had enough of the elves, and, tying her shoes, took the
road toward home, running with all her might.

"Where have you been all day, Toinette?" cried the children, as,
breathless and panting, she flew in at the gate. But Toinette could not
speak. She made slowly for her mother, who stood in the doorway, flung
herself into her arms and burst into a passion of tears.

"Ma cherie, what is it, whence hast thou come?" asked the good mother
alarmed. She lifted Toinette into her arms as she spoke, and hastened
indoors. The other children followed, whispering and peeping, but the
mother sent them away, and sitting down by the fire with Toinette in
her lap, she rocked and hushed and comforted, as though Toinette had
been again a little baby. Gradually the sobs ceased. For a while