So the children shouted,—­

“Hurrah for Peter and Merry, and down with fine ways and fine clothes!”

And then they gave three cheers so loud, that the fathers and mothers, and grandpas and grandmas, and uncles and aunts, and brothers and sisters, heard them, as they sat at dinner in the governor’s house; and all came trooping home in a great hurry to see what was the matter.

But when they heard the story, and found how well the children were going on, they said,—­

“We could teach them nothing better than what they are learning for themselves.  We may let them alone.”

So they all went back to the governor’s house, and spent the rest of the week, and”—­

“Tea is ready, Mrs. Legrange,” said James at the parlor-door.

CHAPTER V.

The runaway.

Tea was over, and the little guests made ready to go home.  Cousin Tom, declining Mrs. Legrange’s invitation to dinner on plea of another engagement, delighted Miss Minnie Wall’s heart by offering to wait upon her home, but rather injured the effect of his politeness by taking Willy and Jerry Noble upon the other side, and talking pegtop with them as glibly as he talked opera with the young lady.

As for the rest, some went alone, some with their nurses, some with each other.  Little Bessie Rider was the last; and, when the nurse did not come for her as had been promised, Mrs. Legrange bid Susan lead her home, leaving ’Toinette in the drawing-room till her return.

“And I must go and lie down a little before I dress for dinner,” continued she to ’Toinette.  “So, Sunshine, I shall leave you here alone, if you will promise not to touch anything you should not, or to go too near the fire.”

The little girl promised; and, with a lingering kiss, her mother left her.

Alone in the twilight, ’Toinette sat for a while upon the rug, watching the bright coals as they tinkled through the grate, or rushed in roaring flame up the chimney.

“I wish I was a fire-fairy, and lived in that big red hole right in the middle of the fire,” thought ’Toinette.  “Then I would wear such a beautiful dress just like gold, and a wreath on my head all blazing with fire; and I would dance a-tiptoe away up the chimney and into the sky:  and perhaps I should come to heaven; no, to the sun.  I wonder if the sun is heaven for the fire-fairies, and I wonder if they dance in the sunset.”

So ’Toinette jumped up, and, running to one of the long windows, put her little eager face close to the glass, and looked far away across the square, and down the long street beyond, to the beautiful western sky, all rosy and golden and purple with the sunset-clouds; while just above them a great white star stood trembling in the deep blue, as if frightened at finding itself out all alone in the night.