beside them and showed them how to spread their wings, and pushed them
with her beak, and gradually the fluttered farther and farther into the
darkling woods, their cries growing fainter and then dying away until
all Teddy could hear was the Father Owl's voice, very faint and far
away. "Who-o-o! Who-o-o!" Then it too died away, and the woods were
still.

After a while the moon set and Teddy began to feel very sleepy.

Then a little breeze sprang up; the light grew clearer and the east was
red, and at last the sun peeped over the top of the hill opposite.

As the first beam struck old Granddaddy Thistletop's tree, Teddy started
to his knees, gazing out down the hill-slope. There were the four
black-and-yellow butterflies flying directly toward the tree as fast as
their wings could carry them, and on the two foremost ones were old
Granddaddy Thistletop himself and the beautiful Rosine.

They drew rein at the knot-hole, and the old fairy, skipping from his
butterfly and never pausing to fasten it, tottered straight to Teddy and
threw his arms about his neck. "Our preserver!" he cried. "And to think
I should have called you a gamblesome elf! But never mind; I will make
it up to you."

Suddenly he turned and caught the blushing Rosine by the hand. "Here!"
he cried; "she is yours, and you shall live with us, and learn to turn
your toes up, and we will all be happy together."

"But--but--" cried Teddy, starting back, "don't you know? I'm not an
elf at all. I'm---"