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“With proper care there is no reason why one should go out after one is three hundred years old,” said the little man, settling himself comfortably into a corner of burning coals. “Before that age we are very delicate, and the least wind is dangerous.”

“But where do you live—where do you come from?” asked Jack.

“We live in the very middle of the earth, where there is always a nice comfortable fire; but when you have fires alight up here, we have to come up and attend to them.”

“Then do you come to lamps and candles as. well?” said Jack, “for they are fire.”

“We leave that to the young folks,” said the little man, with a yawn; “I never come up for anything less than a coal fire.”

Jack was silent for a little; then he said,—

“I wonder I never saw you before.”

“I have always been there; so it has been only your own stupidity,” said the gnome.

“I wish I could get into the fire with you,” said Jack; “I should so much like to see what it’s like.”

“You couldn’t come without a proper dress,”