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the morning. He sat and thought till the tears rose to his eyes, and he sobbed outright.

“It’s a shame,” he said, “a dreadful shame. I think it’s too bad;” and he seized the poker, and gave the fire a great dig.

“For pity’s sake, don’t do that again,” said a small voice from the flames; “it’s enough to break one to bits.”

Jack stopped crying and looked into the fire. There he saw a little figure, the strangest he had ever beheld, balancing itself skilfully on the top of a piece of burning coal. It was just like a little man, not more than three inches high, dressed from head to foot in orange-scarlet, the colour of flame, and wearing on his head a long pointed cap of the same colour.

“Who are you?” asked Jack, breathlessly.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to ask questions?” said the mannikin, winking one eye. “However, if you very much want to know, I’m a fire-fairy.” .

“A fire-fairy!” repeated Jack, still staring and breathless.

“Yes; is that so very strange?”

“But I don't believe in fairies,” said Jack,