biggest telescope in the world.

They were not green like those of Earth, but blue--blue as if each
blade of grass were a blade of violet. And each field was thickly
planted with bright little gleams like fireflies, winking, winking
through the night.

And here and there was a great big star, like the Star Lady herself,
walking about--no, it wasn't that--they were _floating_ about the
meadows. How Marmaduke wished he knew the word she had said they used
in the skies for "walking."

"Are they stars or angels?" he asked her.

"Yes and no," she replied. Her answer was very strange, but she
wouldn't explain it.

Suddenly Marmaduke thought of a question he had often asked people
down on Earth. He could put it to the Star Lady and see if she would
give the same answer as Mother. It was an old, old question that
little children have asked ever since the world began.

"Who made the stars?" it was.

"God," she answered gently, "at least He made the big ones--but not
the little ones."

"And who made them?"

"Oh, the people on earth. Perhaps you made a few yourself," she added.