But when they heard about
the pretty strange dog who came to market all alone, they knew at last
where Wylie went, every Tuesday night. And they loved her better than
ever.
Wasn't it wise of the dear little dog to go and work for other people when
her own work was taken away? I fancy she knew that the best people and the
best dogs always work hard at something. Any way she did that same thing
as long as she lived, and she was always just as gentle, and silky-haired,
and loving as at first.
LITTLE DAYLIGHT[1]
[Footnote 1: Adapted from _At the Back of the North Wind_, by George
Macdonald.]
Once there was a beautiful palace, which had a great wood at one side. The
king and his courtiers hunted in the wood near the palace, and there it
was kept open, free from underbrush. But farther away it grew wilder and
wilder, till at last it was so thick that nobody knew what was there. It
was a very great wood indeed.
In the wood lived eight fairies. Seven of them were good fairies, who had
lived there always; the eighth was a bad fairy, who had just come. And the
worst of it was that nobody but the other fairies knew she _was_ a fairy;
people thought she was just an ugly old witch. The good fairies lived in
the dearest little houses! One lived in a hollow silver birch, one in a
little moss cottage, and so on.
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