FAIRIES I HAVE MET
the grass was thick and soft, and there he made up his mind to stay. It was not, of course, the very best kind of place for a fairy, but, after all, it was quiet and near his friends, and he was terribly tired of moving about from rose to rose and from daisy to daisy. So he thought he would make the best of it.
Very soon he felt quite at home in the grass-patch at the end of the yard. Every morning, of course, he had to attend to the grass and see that it was always fresh and green, for it is the business of every fairy to take care of the place he lives in. He does it instead of paying rent. Then, after polishing his wings nicely and making them shine like opals, he would fly across the brick wall and have a chat with the grass-fairies and flower-fairies in the garden.
His life went on in this quiet and comfortable way for some time.
But one morning poor Flitterwing received a great shock. He was very busy cleaning the grass with a dewdrop, and thinking how strong and tall the blades had grown since he first began to take care of them. They were a good deal taller than himself now, and he was not able to see over them. So, when he heard a heavy footstep clattering across the yard, he peered between the blades of grass to see who was coming.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” he cried, “here’s that dreadful gardener! I’m sure he’s going to turn me out!”
He quickly dropped the crumpled cobweb soaked in dewdrop with which he was rubbing the green blades, and folding his wings closely round him he hid himself in the grass, and waited to see what was going to happen.
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