"Harriett, why don't you go home and get it, and then perhaps you could
have diner up here with me; wouldn't you like that?"

"Yes, but maybe Aunt Alice doesn't want me to stay."

"Yes, she does," said Teddy. "I know she does, because she said she was
so glad to have you come and amuse me."

"Well, I'll go home and ask my mother. I don't know whether she'll let
me."

"You won't stay long, will you?"

"No, I won't," promised Harriett. Then she put on her jacket and hat
and ran down-stairs.

Teddy went on with his painting by himself for a while, but it seemed to
him Harriett was gone a long time. He called his mother once, and she
came to the foot of the stairs and told him she couldn't come up just
yet.

Then Teddy began thinking of the Counterpane Fairy, and the stories she
had shown him. He wondered if she wouldn't come to see him to-day. She
always came when he was lonely, and he was quite sure he was getting
lonely now. Yes, he knew he was.

"Well," said a little voice just back of the counterpane hill, "it's not
quite so steep to-day, and that's a comfort." There was the little fairy
just appearing above the tops of his knees,--brown hood, brown cloak,