A WAY OUT OF THE PRESENT UNREST.

“A penny for your thoughts,” I said to Kathleen.

“I like that,” said Kathleen indignantly.  “A penny was the market value of my thoughts in 1914.  Why should butter and cheese and reels of cotton go up more than double and my thoughts stay the same?”

“Twopence,” I offered.

“I said more than double,” she remarked coldly.

I plunged.  “Sixpence,” I said.

“Done!”

“I’ll put it in the collection bag for you next Sunday,” I added hastily.

“Well, I was thinking of Veronica’s future.  I was wondering what she was going to be.”

“When we went to the Crystal Palace,” I said gently, “I rather gathered that she wanted to be the proprietor of a merry-go-round.  They were dragons with red-plush seats.”

“She might go into Parliament,” said Kathleen dreamily; “I expect women will be able to do everything by the time she’s grown up.  She might be a Cabinet Minister.  I don’t see why she shouldn’t be Prime Minister.”

“Her hair’s just about the right length now,” I said.  “And perhaps she could give me congenial employment.  I wouldn’t mind being Minister of Transport.  There’s quite a good salary attached.  But of course she may have ideas of her own on the subject.”

Feeling curious, I went in search of Veronica.  I found her at a private dance given by the butterflies and hollyhocks at the other end of the lawn.  When she saw me she came to meet me and made her excuses very politely.

“We’ve just been wondering what you’re going to be when you’ve stopped being a little girl,” I said.

“Me?” said Veronica calmly.  “Oh, I’m going to be a fairy.  You don’t want me to be anything else, do you?” she added anxiously.

Even the Prime Minister’s post seemed suddenly quite flat.

“Oh, no,” I said.  “I think you’ve made a very good choice.”  But she was not quite satisfied.

“I shall hate going away from you,” she said.  “Couldn’t you come too?”

“Where?”

“To Fairyland.”

“Ah!” I said, “that takes some thinking about.  Could we come back if we didn’t like it?”

“N-no, I don’t fink so.  I’ve never heard of anyone doing that.  But you’ll love it,” she went on earnestly.  “You’ll be ever so tiny and you can draw funny frost pictures wiv rainbows and fold up flowers into buds and splash dew-water over everyfing at night and ride on butterflies and help the birds to make nests.  Fink what fun to help a bird to make a nest!  You’ll love it!”

“Is that all?” I said sternly.  “Are you keeping nothing from me?  What about witches and spells and being turned into frogs?  I’m sure I remember that in my fairy tales.”

“Oh, nothing that matters,” she said quickly.  “You can always tell a witch, you know, and we’ll keep out of their way.  An’ if a nasty fairy turns you into a frog a nice one will always turn you back quite soon.  It’s all right.  You mustn’t worry about that.  There won’t be any fun if you don’t come too, darlin’,” she ended shamelessly.