“Your resolution to do something you don’t like.  What is it, Hermione?”

“To knit up again the stocking the cat pulled out.  I quite dislike the idea.”

“Then set to work by all means, Hermione.  You will at least have the comfort of ‘beginning by a little aversion;’ but I warn you beforehand, not to set your heart upon the disagreeableness lasting very long, and if you find yourself shortly, as happy as ever over the stocking, do not be puzzled and vexed any more, but thank God as I do, that, so far at least, you are spared one of the troubles of life.  The trouble of an indolent, discontented mind.”

An affectionate embrace was exchanged between Mother and Daughter; and the latter, with the assistance of her Governess, recommenced the unlucky grey stocking, and was working assiduously at it when her young friends arrived.

It was a curious sight to the Fairies to see two of their god-daughters together, as they now did.  But the conviction was forced upon them, that, for the present at least, Hermione had the balance of happiness in her favour.  Whatever their amusements were,—­whether looking over curiosities, playing with dolls, or any of the numerous games invented for the entertainment of the young, Hermione’s whole heart and attention were in the matter, and she was as much engrossed as over learning at other times, and quite happy.  With poor Aurora it was not so; the childishness of the play every now and then annoyed her; there was no food for her vanity, in playing with children; they cared nothing about her beauty; the gayest and most good-natured face has always the most charms for them, and this did not suit Aurora at all, and ever and anon her thoughts wandered, and her wishes too.

For ever straining into the future!

“I cannot make out your Fairy gift at all, Ambrosia,” said Euphrosyne, “and I begin to suspect you have not given her one.”

“We are all growing philosophical, I perceive,” said Ambrosia, smiling.  “Who could think you would have guessed that my happy child has had no Fairy gift at all.  But she has, I assure you.  What do you say to the Philosopher’s Stone?  It is quite clear that me has got something which TURNS EVERY THING SHE TOUCHES INTO GOLD.”

* * * * *

What is the Philosopher’s Stone?  I hear my little readers exclaim.  There is no such thing, my dears, nor ever was; but the chymists in old times, who were very ignorant, and yet knew that many wonderful things had been done by the mixture of minerals and metals, and the curious effects some had upon others, guessed that yet more wonderful things might be found out by searching, and they got into their heads that it might be possible to find, or make, a stone that would have the power of turning every thing it touched into gold.  In the same manner, the doctors of those times fancied there might be such a thing made as a draught that would turn old people into young ones again.  This was called “The Elixir of Life.”  But I do assure you these old fellows never did discover either a Philosopher’s Stone, or an Elixir of Life.