I told him my name quite gently, for he was much too small to be angry
with.
"Duke of Anything?" he asked, just looking at me for a moment,
and then going on with his work.
"Not Duke at all," I said, a little ashamed of having to confess it.
"Oo're big enough to be two Dukes," said the little creature.
"I suppose oo're Sir Something, then?"
"No," I said, feeling more and more ashamed. "I haven't got any title."
The Fairy seemed to think that in that case I really wasn't worth the
trouble of talking to, for he quietly went on digging, and tearing the
flowers to pieces.
After a few minutes I tried again. "Please tell me what your name is."
"Bruno," the little fellow answered, very readily. "Why didn't oo say
'please' before?"
"That's something like what we used to be taught in the nursery,"
I thought to myself, looking back through the long years (about a hundred
of them, since you ask the question), to the time when I was a little
child. And here an idea came into my head, and I asked him "Aren't you
one of the Fairies that teach children to be good?"
"Well, we have to do that sometimes," said Bruno, "and a dreadful
bother it is." As he said this, he savagely tore a heartsease in two,
and trampled on the pieces.
"What are you doing there, Bruno?" I said.
"Spoiling Sylvie's garden," was all the answer Bruno would give at
first. But, as he went on tearing up the flowers, he muttered to
himself "The nasty cross thing wouldn't let me go and play this
morning,--said I must finish my lessons first--lessons, indeed!
I'll vex her finely, though!"
"Oh, Bruno, you shouldn't do that!" I cried.
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