The next day Miss Schuyler came, as she had promised, and brought a physician—­a good, kind surgeon—­who examined Phil, and pulled this joint and that joint, and touched him here and there, and found out where the pain was, and what caused it, and said nice, funny things to make him laugh, and told him he hoped to make him a strong boy yet.  And then they whispered a little about him, and Joe was sent for, and a carriage came, and Phil was wrapped in a blanket and laid on pillows, and taken out for a drive alone with Miss Schuyler, who chatted with him, and got him more flowers; and when they came back there was a nice dinner on a tray, and ice-cream for his dessert, and Joe was to stay with him until Lisa came home; and before Lisa came there was a nice new trunk brought in, and several large parcels.  And Phil thought he had never seen such a day of happiness.  After his dinner and a nap, and while Joe Sat and played on his violin, Phil sketched and made a lovely little picture of flowers and fairies, in his own simple fashion, to give to Miss Schuyler.  And then Lisa came home, and the parcels were opened; and there were nice new dresses for Lisa, and a pretty, thin shawl, and a new bonnet; and for Phil there was a comfortable flannel gown, and soft slippers, and fine handkerchiefs and stockings; and Phil found a little parcel too for Joe with a bright bandanna in it, and the old man was very happy.

“It seems like Christmas,” said Joe.

Phil thought he had never seen quite such a Christmas, and said, “It seems more like Fairy-land, and I only hope it will not all fade away and come to an end, like a bubble bursting.”

“To me,” said Lisa, “it is God’s own goodness that has done it all, for it was He who gave Miss Schuyler her warm, kind heart.”

“And, Joe,” said Phil, “we are to go to the country, and you are to go with us; is not that nice?”

“Very nice, Phil.  I’m glad Miss Rachel’s found out your father was her friend.”

Then Joe took up his violin again, and played “Home, Sweet Home,” and “Auld Lang Syne”; and Phil fancied the violin was a bird, and sang of its own free-will, and thinking this reminded him how soon he would hear the dear wild birds in the woods, and he wondered if the fairies would come to him there.

Then Joe went home, and Lisa had errands to do, and again she put the wind harp in the window, and left Phil alone, keeping very still in expectation of another visit from his fairy friend.

CHAPTER VI

THE FAIRY’S STORY

“I promised you a story,” said the little voice, to his ear again.

“Yes, I know you did; can you tell it now?”

“To be sure I can, if I only have time.  I did not bring any of my people to-night; they are helping some of the herb elves.  It is a little late in the season, and some blossoms have been slow in opening, so that we have to urge them.”