ashes, building with earth or snow, playing with wind and water, and in
a hundred other ways. Sometimes the answer to a question would take up
the playtime of a whole day.

But now Eric was to hear his first story, World Story or any other kind.
Can you imagine how it would feel if to-day you were to hear the first
story of your life?

"All ready?" asked Helma.

The silence in the room said plainer than words that all was ready for
the World Story. This time it was a story about a man named Saint
Francis, and a story after Eric's own heart.

Almost as fast as the story went the work of Helma's fingers. But Ivra
was neither so swift nor so skilled, and the leggins were dropped many
times from forgetful hands because all her thoughts were gone away
following the story.

Yet somehow the leggins got done, and the jacket and trousers got done,
and even a little round cap, and all before dusk. For a finishing touch
Helma sewed two soft little brown feathers she had picked up in the snow
one on either side of the cap,--which gave Eric, small as they were and
soft as they were, a look of flying.

Then nothing remained but the sandals, and because Eric was well rested
by then, he was allowed to help at them. They were cut from the strip of
brown leather, and Helma showed Eric how to shape them and sew them
himself. So after supper he stood attired, all in brown, a pale, happy
child, ready for his first party.