poems, bound in dark blue morocco. Inside was written: "From
another admirer of 'Hiawatha.'"

She started up with a rapturous exclamation, and the two men paused
in their talk, each unable to help watching the beautiful little
face all aglow with happiness. Erica almost danced round the room
with her new treasure.

"What HEAVENLY person can have sent me this?" she cried. "Look,
father! Did you ever see such a beauty?"

Science went to the winds, and Raeburn gave all his sympathy to
Erica and Longfellow. "The very thing you were wishing for. Who
could have sent it?"

"I can't think. It can't be Tom, because I know he's spent all his
money, and auntie would never call herself an admirer of
'Hiawatha,' nor Herr Haeberlein, nor Monsieur Noirol, nor any one
I can think of."

"Dealings with the fairies," said Raeburn, smiling. "Your
beggar-child with the scones suddenly transformed into a beneficent
rewarder."

"Not from you, father?"

Raeburn laughed.

"A pretty substantial fairy for you. No, no, I had no hand in it.
I can't give you presents while I am in debt, my bairn."