“Ah,” said naughty Tom, “I see what you want; you are persuading me all along to go, because you are tired of me, and want to get rid of me.”

Little Ellie opened her eyes very wide at that, and they were all brimming over with tears.

“Oh, Tom, Tom!” she said, very mournfully—­and then she cried, “Oh, Tom, where are you?”

And Tom cried, “Oh, Ellie, where are you?”

For neither of them could see the other—­not the least.  Little Ellie vanished quite away, and Tom heard her voice calling him, and growing smaller and smaller, and fainter and fainter, till all was silent.

Who was frightened then but Tom?  He swam up and down among the rocks, into all the halls and chambers, faster than ever he swam before, but could not find her.  He shouted after her, but she did not answer; he asked all the other children, but they had not seen her; and at last he went up to the top of the water and began crying and screaming for Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid—­which perhaps was the best thing to do, for she came in a moment.

“Oh!” said Tom.  “Oh dear, oh dear!  I have been naughty to Ellie, and I have killed her—­I know I have killed her.”

“Not quite that,” said the fairy; “but I have sent her away home, and she will not come back again for I do not know how long.”

And at that Tom cried bitterly.

“How cruel of you to send Ellie away!” sobbed Tom.  “However, I will find her again, if I go to the world’s end to look for her.”

The fairy did not slap Tom, and tell him to hold his tongue; but she took him on her lap very kindly, just as her sister would have done; and put him in mind how it was not her fault, because she was wound up inside, like watches, and could not help doing things whether she liked or not.  And then she told him how he had been in the nursery long enough, and must go out now and see the world, if he intended ever to be a man; and how he must go all alone by himself, as every one else that ever was born has to go, and see with his own eyes, and smell with his own nose, and make his own bed and lie on it, and burn his own fingers if he put them into the fire.  And then she told him how many fine things there were to be seen in the world, and what an odd, curious, pleasant, orderly, respectable, well-managed, and, on the whole, successful (as, indeed, might have been expected) sort of a place it was, if people would only be tolerably brave and honest and good in it; and then she told him not to be afraid of anything he met, for nothing would harm him if he remembered all his lessons, and did what he knew was right.  And at last she comforted poor little Tom so much that he was quite eager to go, and wanted to set out that minute.  “Only,” he said, “if I might see Ellie once before I went!”

“Why do you want that?”

“Because—­because I should be so much happier if I thought she had forgiven me.”

And in the twinkling of an eye there stood Ellie, smiling, and looking so happy that Tom longed to kiss her; but was still afraid it would not be respectful, because she was a lady born.