“That,” said the girl, excitedly, “is miraculous!”

“Isn’t it?” he said, delighted as a boy at her praise.  “What card will you choose?”

And he handed her a pack.

“The ace of hearts, if you please.”

“Draw it from the pack.”

“Any card?” she inquired.  “Oh! how on earth did you make me draw the ace of hearts?”

“Hold it tightly,” he warned her.

She clutched it in her pretty fingers.

“Are you sure you hold it?” he asked.

“Perfectly.”

“Look!”

She looked and found that it was the queen of diamonds she held so tightly; but, looking again to reassure herself, she was astonished to find that the card was the jack of clubs.  “Tear it up,” he said.  She tore it into small pieces.

“Throw them into the air!”

She obeyed, and almost cried out to see them take fire in mid-air and float away in ashy flakes.

Face flushed, eyes brilliant, she turned to him, hanging on his every movement, every expression.

Before her rapt eyes the multicolored mice danced jigs on slack wires, then were carefully rolled up into little balls of paper which immediately began to swell until each was as big as a football.  These burst open, and out of each football of white paper came kittens, turtles, snakes, chickens, ducks, and finally two white rabbits with silly pink eyes that began gravely waltzing round and round the room.

“Please stand up and shake your skirts,” he said.

She rose hastily and obeyed; a rain of silver coins fell, then gold, then banknotes, littering the floor.  Then precious stones began to drop about her; she shook them from her hair, her collar, her neck; she clenched her hands in nervous amazement, but inside each tight little fist she felt something, and opening her fingers she fairly showered the floor with diamonds.

“Can’t you save one for me?” he asked.  “I really need it.”  But when again she looked for the glittering heap at her feet, it was gone; and, search as she might, not one coin, not one gem remained.

Glancing up in dismay she found herself in a perfect storm of white butterflies—­no, they were red—­no, green!

“Is there anything in this world you desire?” he asked her.

“A—­a glass of water——­”

She was already holding it in her hands, and she cried out in amazement, spilling the brimming glass; but no water fell, only a rain of little crimson flames.

“I can’t—­can’t drink this—­can I?” she faltered.

“With perfect safety,” he smiled, and she tasted it.

“Taste it again,” he said.

She tried it; it was lemonade.

“Again.”

It was ginger ale.

“Once more.”

She stared at the glass, frothing with ice-cream soda; there was a long silver spoon in it, too.

Enchanted, she lay back, savoring her ice, shyly watching him.