THE COUNTERPANE FAIRY.
EDDY was to go out-doors the next day if it was mild and pleasant. The doctor had come in that morning for the last time to see him. "Well, my little man," he had said, giving Teddy's cheek a pinch, "can't be pretending you're a sick boy any longer with cheeks and eyes like these. Now we'll have you back at school in no time, and then I suppose you'll be up to all your old tricks again."
Later on the little boy had gone downstairs for dinner, for the first time since he had been ill. Everything there had looked very strange to him, and as if he had not seen it for years.
He had felt just as well as ever until he tried to chase the cat, Muggins, down the hall, and then his legs had given way in a funny, weak fashion that made him laugh.
After dinner Muggins followed him upstairs, and curling down under a chair went fast asleep. Teddy took his blocks and built them about the chair, so that when the cat woke he found himself built up inside a little house.
However, a door had been left, and he poked his nose and his paw through it, and then the whole front wall went down with a noisy clatter, and Muggins scampered down to the kitchen with his tail on end. Teddy had to laugh; he looked so funny.
Papa came home from his office earlier than usual that afternoon, bringing with him a bundle of long, smooth sticks and a roll of tissue papers, and spent all the rest of the time between that and supper in making a great kite for Teddy. He told the little boy that if the next day were fine he would fly it for him, and that he might ask some of the boys to come and help.
Teddy had never seen such a large kite before. When papa stood it up it was a great deal taller than the little boy himself. The gold star that was pasted on where the sticks crossed was just on a level with his eyes.
So much seemed to have happened that day that very soon after supper Teddy felt tired and was quite willing to let mamma undress him and put him to bed.
It felt very good to lie down between the cool sheets again, and very soon Teddy's eyelids began to blink heavily, and he was already drifting off into that blissful feeling that comes just as one is going to sleep, when he became dimly conscious of a faint sound of music.
At first, half asleep as he was, he thought that it must be little Cousin Harriett winding up the music-box in the room, and then he suddenly started into consciousness with the remembrance that he was alone and that it couldn't be Cousin Harriett. She was at home; in bed perhaps, already.
The music seemed to sound quite near him, and it was very sweet and soft. Now that he was awake it sounded more like the voice of the singing garden than anything else.
Suddenly a faint rosy light appeared at the foot of the bed, and standing in it was the most beautiful lady that Teddy had ever seen. She was quite tall,--as tall as his own mother, and not even the fairy Rosine, or the Bird-maiden,--no, nor the Princess Aureline herself, had been half as beautiful.
But though the lady was so lovely there was something very familiar about her face. "Why, Counterpane Fairy!" cried Teddy.
The Counterpane Fairy, for it was indeed she, did not speak, but smiling at Teddy she moved softly and smoothly, as though swept along by the music to the side of the bed, and, still smiling, she bent above the little boy.
As he looked up into the face that leaned above him, it seemed to change in some strange way, and now it was the old Italian woman who had given him the presents from her basket; a moment after it was the face of the little child who had talked with him upon the rainbow; no, it was not; it was really the Counterpane Fairy herself, and no one else.
Closer and closer she leaned above him, seeming to enfold him with faint music and light and perfume. "Good-bye," she whispered softly. "Good-bye! little boy."
"Oh, Counterpane Fairy! where are you going? Don't go away!" cried Teddy.
"I'm not going away," said the fairy. "I shall be beside you still just as often as ever, only you won't see me."
"But won't there be any more stories?" cried Teddy, in dismay.
"Sometime, perhaps," said the Counterpane Fairy, "but not now, for to-morrow you'll be out and playing with the other boys, and after that it will be your school and your games that you'll be thinking of."
"Oh, Counterpane Fairy, don't go!" cried Teddy again, reaching out his arms toward her; but they touched nothing but empty air. Waving her hand to him and still smiling, the Counterpane Fairy slowly, slowly faded away. With her too, faded the rosy light and the perfume that had filled the room; only the faint sound of music was left. Then it too died away.
Teddy sat up and looked about him. The room was very still and dim. He heard nothing but the ticking of the clock. The half-moon had sailed up above the dark tops of the pine-trees on the lawn outside, and by its light he saw the great kite that papa had made him, as it stood propped up on the mantle. The gilt star in the middle of it shone.
It was true that he was no longer a little sick child. To-morrow he would be out-of-doors again, and shouting and playing with all the other boys.
