that they were kindly eyes, always either crying or laughing. Then her figure was anything but graceful, being short and stumpy; and she waddled terribly when she walked. All this prevented any one from thinking her in the least interesting, and so no one ever thought of inquiring whether she had a story, and if so, what was it? And yet Nurse Dinah was one of those beings whose stories are written in letters of gold; but the angels write them, not men, and that is why we so seldom are able to read them. Nurse Dinah loved all her nurslings almost as dearly as their own mother did; but Hermione she loved better, for she understood her. Yes, this commonplace old woman, who said herself that she was born to be a drudge, scrubbing and rubbing floors and children's faces all her days, ay, and gloried in it, too, narrow-minded old dame, understood Hermione, for had she not taught her herself? Had she not filled her head with quaint, wise sayings-golden maxims, some of them—and sweet old stories of far away times of the world and Cornertown? had she not taught her songs and rhymes, of mother love, and sister love, and lover love, and another love besides? Had she not taught her to believe in heaps of things that she had never seen, and this was the best lesson of all, although Nurse Dinah never having gone to a ladies' college, some chaff may have got in with the wheat. But Hermione had learnt all her lessons; some sitting at Nurse Dinah's knee in the firelight, some while watching Nurse Dinah "drudge about as she called it, and very much the better for it Hermione was, and very dearly she loved this extremely commonplace old woman, And so it came to pass that Hermione was quite happy with Nurse Dinah for a friend, to say nothing of the creatures in Dark Dell to whom Hermione was a queen, for she had conquered all their shy wild bird hearts for ever. And in the meantime, as I have said, Christmas drew near, and Hermione stood in Dark Dell before the Little Fir-tree, gazing with wondering eyes at the Snow Flower, the gift of the departed snow. "The very thing," said Hermione; "this Fir-tree is just exactly what I want, and this lovely flower, what can it be? It looks like a snow-flake; I never saw anything so beautiful." The heart of the Fir-tree beat violently, so violently that his branches began to tremble; for it is quite needless to remark that Hermione being the dark-eyed princess of his dreams, he had immediately fallen in love with her. "How beautiful she is," he said to himself, and felt very glad that he had so fair an ornament as the Snow Flower. "It is a little bent," said Hermione, contemplating the Fir-tree; "but that does not matter at all, it will just fit into that niche in the wall, and then how beautiful that flower will look when the lamps are lit. I must get the boys to root up the tree, and carry it away." "What does that mean, I wonder?" said the Firtree to himself, after Hermione had gone. “Perhaps I am going to be made a king; at all events I am not afraid. Something beautiful is sure to happen to me, or else the Snow Flower would not have come to me thus in the dead of winter. The world comes round to those who will but wait.'" The next day a little crowd of boys, led by Hermione, came into Dark Dell, bringing with them a light cart in which Nurse Dinah sat in great majesty. The boys would never have attempted to come into the haunted wood without Nurse Dinah to take care of them, and as it was too far for her to walk, waddling being very tiring, she had to be brought in a cart. "Laugh away, my dears," she said, as the boys cheered at Nurse Dinah in a cart. "I always did say that I should ride in my carriage some day, and here I am in a cart, next thing to it. 'He that bodes himself a silk gown is sure to wear a sleeve of it.'" At which the boys cheered louder than ever, for this was one of Nurse Dinah's favourite sayings, she made use of it on all occasions. In fact it was to her what the Fir-tree's motto was to him; and indeed, if you come to examine them, you will find they have much the same meaning, only the Firtree's is perhaps the more poetical of the two. Nurse Dinah was very much astonished, as well she might be, at the sight of the Snow Flower: she |