Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1923-04-28
THE PALACE OF
THE FAIRIES
"a Child. Story
By EDNA BENTLEY HANCOCK

A little girl who had all the toys
imaginable, was leaning against a
high board fence which enclosed the
garden at the rear Of her home, cry
ing. Suddenly, she lifted her head
and listened; then she peeped through
a crack in the fence into the yard be-
yond. Someone else was crying too.
She heard a sob, but she could not see
al yone. After a while she called,
"Come here to this crack where am.
I want to see you."
"Whom are you talking to-" a.
querulous voice asked. "Me?"
eyes, you, if you're the one that's
crying" answered the little girl.
A sorrowful, childish figure moved
slowly along the outer side of the
fence, and then, all at once, two big
brown eyes were looking into two big
blue ones. And the lashes were all
wet.
"Humph!" grunted the brown-eyed
boy. If I'd known it was you, I'd
have kept right on crying"
"And i'll had thought it was you,
1 would not have called" The blue
eyes flashed and their owner turned
angrily away.
ooh, say! Come on back. It's lone
some over here. I'm tired Of rocking
horses and tops and marbles and ev-
erything else," he continued, as the
little girl relented and came slowly
back. Then,, "What have you got to
play with"
"Same old things: dolls, Teddy
bears, games, and"
Gee! Amt it fierce?" he interrupt
ed. 81 wish there was something diff
ferent, somewhere"
$50 do l." heartily agreed Agnes.
For that was the girls name, and the
name of the boy was Roger. They
Fwere neighbors, and their parents
were very well-to-do. These children
had much that many children do not
have; yet they were fretful and dis
contented.
It isn't what we have that makes us
happy; nor what we have not that
makes us unhappy. It's something
within. Some folks call it disposition,
others call it temperament, and still
others speak Of it as the spirit. What
ever it may be, at the moment the
throes Of restless, resentful dissatis-
faction held these two children in
thrall. They were rebellious, miser-
able.
While they were talking, breeze
stirred the branches of the apple tree
under which they stood, and a shower
of apple blows fell all round them. So
thick they lay, the earth was fairly
hidden by the coverlet of pink and
white.
"Look like snow, don't they?"
queried Roger as Agnes stopped to
gather some of the fallen petals.
eyes, but they're prettier; they are
white and pink too, and not cold bit.
And-oh, SMELL" urged Agnes, inhal-
ing their fragrance. aren't they
sweet?"
Climbing upon the fence, Roger
caught an overhanging bough and
breaking off a bunch of blossoms,
buried his nose in it. "Um-m-m!
They are sweet" he assented.
Just then, the strangest thing hap
pened. Right there in the very center
of the pinkest blossom stood the TIM
est, most beautiful creature he had
ever seen.
Jumping quickly down, he called.
AS she peered through the fence,
Agnes caught sight Of the tiny person
nesting among the appleblows.
cts fairy, Roger, really and
truly fairy" she exclaimed, clapping
her hands joyously.
eyes, am fairy" spoke low,
sweet voice. I am queen Of the fairies.
This tree is our palace; thousands of
my subjects dwell here" Spreading
her gauzy wings, she continued, "We
were sleeping as we sometimes do in
the daytime, when we heard you cry
ing. Tears affect us strangely. We
were created to make people happy.
We do not like to fail in our mission. !
So, rising from our beds, we called to
our big brother, the wind, to send our
chariots through the air."
"Were there fairies on all those
petals?" breathlessly asked Roger.
EYES,"
"Where are they now?" inquired
Agnes her eyes filed with wonder. I
can't see them anywhere.
"They have returned to their slum-
ber," the queen replied. 'Their work
is done. AS we fluttered to earth,
your disconnected murmerings ceased.