who took care of her, and it was not long before her timidity was forgotten in her tender and trusting affection for him.  She learned to watch for his coming, and to feel that she was no longer lonely.  It was through him that her uncle permitted her to send to the cure a sum of money large enough to do all that was necessary.  It was through him that the poor woman and her children were clothed and fed and protected.  When she was well enough, he had promised that she should help him among his own poor.  And through him—­though she lost none of her sweet sympathy for those who suffered—­she learned to live a more natural and child-like life, and to find that there were innocent, natural pleasures to be enjoyed in the world.  In time she even ceased to be afraid of her Uncle Bertrand, and to be quite happy in the great beautiful house.  And as for Uncle Bertrand himself, he became very fond of her, and sometimes even helped her to dispense her charities.  He had a light, gay nature, but he was kind at heart, and always disliked to see or think of suffering.  Now and then he would give more lavishly than wisely, and then he would say, with his habitual graceful shrug of the shoulders—­“Yes, it appears I am not discreet.  Finally, I think I must leave my charities to you, my good Norris—­to you and Little Saint Elizabeth.”

THE STORY OF PRINCE FAIRYFOOT

PREFATORY NOTE

“THE STORY OF PRINCE FAIRYFOOT” was originally intended to be the first of a series, under the general title of “Stories from the Lost Fairy-Book, Re-told by the Child Who Read Them,” concerning which Mrs. Burnett relates: 

“When I was a child of six or seven, I had given to me a book of fairy-stories, of which I was very fond.  Before it had been in my possession many months, it disappeared, and, though since then I have tried repeatedly, both in England and America, to find a copy of it, I have never been able to do so.  I asked a friend in the Congressional Library at Washington—­a man whose knowledge of books is almost unlimited—­to try to learn something about it for me.  But even he could find no trace of it; and so we concluded it must have been out of print some time.  I always remembered the impression the stories had made on me, and, though most of them had become very faint recollections, I frequently told them to children, with additions of my own.  The story of Fairyfoot I had promised to tell a little girl; and, in accordance with the promise, I developed the outline I remembered, introduced new characters and conversation, wrote it upon note paper, inclosed it in a decorated satin cover, and sent it to her.  In the first place, it was re-written merely for her, with no intention of publication; but she was so delighted with it, and read and reread it so untiringly, that it occurred to me other children might like to hear it also.  So I made the plan of developing and re-writing the other stories in like manner, and having them published under the title of ’Stories from the Lost Fairy-Book, Re-told by the Child Who Read Them.’”