spatula she used for that purpose still in her hand; and a
fresh and larger puff of the unsavoury blue smoke accompanied
her entrance. She came forward, however, gravely, and without
the slightest embarrassment, to receive her cousin's somewhat
unceremonious "How do, Fleda?" and, keeping the spatula still
in one hand, shook hands with him with the other. But at the
very different manner in which Mr. Carleton _rose_ and greeted
her, the flush on Fleda's cheek deepened, and she cast down
her eyes and stepped back to her grandfather's side with the
demureness of a young lady just undergoing the ceremony of
presentation.

"You come upon us out of a cloud, Fleda," said her cousin. "Is
that the way you have acquired a right to the name of Fairy?"

"I am sure, no," said Mr. Carleton.

Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour showed
that she understood both speeches.

"Because, if you are in general such a misty personage," Mr.
Rossitur went on, half laughing, "I would humbly recommend a
choice of incense."

"O, I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda,
ingenuously. "Cynthy, wont you, please, go and do it! And take
this with you," said she, holding out the spatula.

" She is as good a fairy as _I_ want to see," said her
grandfather, passing his arm fondly round her. "She carries a