By this time Nelly began to wonder how it happened that she found so
many more injured things than ever before. But it never entered her
innocent head that Tony had searched the wood and meadow before she
was up, and laid most of these creatures ready to her hands, that she
might not be disappointed. She had not yet lost her faith in fairies,
so she fancied they too belonged to her small sisterhood, and
presently it did really seem impossible to doubt that the good folk
had been at work.

Coming to the bridge that crossed the brook, she stopped a moment to
watch the water ripple over the bright pebbles, the ferns bend down to
drink, and the funny tadpoles frolic in quieter nooks, where the sun
shone, and the dragon-flies swung among the rushes. When Nelly turned
to go on, her blue eyes opened wide, and the handle of the ambulance
dropped with a noise that caused a stout frog to skip into the water
heels over head.

Directly in the middle of the bridge was a pretty green tent, made of
two tall burdock leaves. The stems were stuck into cracks between the
boards, the tips were pinned together with a thorn, and one great
buttercup nodded in the doorway like a sleepy sentinel. Nelly stared
and smiled, listened, and looked about on every side. Nothing was seen
but the quiet meadow and the shady grove, nothing was heard but the
babble of the brook and the cheery music of the bobolinks.

"Yes," said Nelly softly to herself, "that is a fairy tent, and in it
I may find a baby elf sick with whooping-cough or scarlet-fever. How
splendid it would be! only I could never nurse such a dainty thing."

Stooping eagerly, she peeped over the buttercup's drowsy head, and saw