Christmas-Tree Land (Musaicum Christmas Specials). Mary Louisa Molesworth

had been cleared for some distance round where it stood, and a space enclosed by a rustic fence of interlaced branches had been planted as a garden. A very pretty little garden too. There were flower-beds in front, already gay with a few early blossoms, and neat rows of vegetables and fruit-bushes at the back. The cottage was built of wood, but looked warm and dry, with deep roof and rather small high-up windows. A little path, bordered primly by a thick growing mossy-like plant, led up to the door, which was closed. No smoke came out of the chimney, not the slightest sound was to be heard. The children looked at each other.

      'What a darling little house!' said Maia in a whisper. 'But, Rollo, do you think there's anybody there? Can it be enchanted, perhaps?'

      Rollo went on a few steps and stood looking at the mysterious cottage. There was not a sound to be heard, not the slightest sign of life about the place; and yet it was all in such perfect order that it was impossible to think it deserted.

      'The people must have gone out, I suppose,' said Rollo.

      'I wonder if the door is locked,' said Maia. 'I am so thirsty, Rollo.'

      'Let's see,' Rollo answered, and together the two children opened the tiny gate and made their way up to the door. Rollo took hold of the latch; it yielded to his touch.

      'It's not locked,' he said, looking back at his sister, and he gently pushed the door a little way open. 'Shall I go in?' he said.

      Maia came forward, walking on her tiptoes.

      'Oh, Rollo,' she whispered, 'suppose it's enchanted, and that we never get out again.'

      But all the same she crept nearer and nearer to the tempting half-open door.

      CHAPTER III.

       THE MYSTERIOUS COTTAGE.

       Table of Contents

      '"A pretty cottage 'tis indeed,"

       Said Rosalind to Fanny,

       "But yet it seems a little strange,

       I trust there's naught uncanny."'

       The Wood-Fairies.

      Rollo pushed a little more, and still a little. No sound was heard—no voice demanded what they wanted; they gathered courage, till at last the door stood sufficiently ajar for them to see inside. It was a neat, plain, exceedingly clean, little kitchen which stood revealed to their view. Rollo and Maia, with another glance around them, another instant's hesitation, stepped in.

      The floor was only sanded, the furniture was of plain unvarnished deal, yet there was something indescribably dainty and attractive about the room. There was no fire burning in the hearth, but all was ready laid for lighting it, and on the table, covered with a perfectly clean, though coarse cloth, plates and cups for a meal were set out. It seemed to be for three people. A loaf of brownish bread, and a jug filled with milk, were the only provisions to be seen. Maia stepped forward softly and looked longingly at the milk.

      'Do you think it would be wrong to take some, Rollo?' she said. 'I am so thirsty, and they must be nice people that live here, it looks so neat.' But just then, catching sight of the three chairs drawn round the table, as well as of the three cups and three plates upon it, she drew back with a little scream. 'Rollo,' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, half with fear, half with excitement, 'I do believe we've got into the cottage of the three bears.'

       'Rollo,' she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling, half with fear, half with excitement, 'I do believe we've got into the cottage of the three bears.'

      Rollo burst out laughing, though, to tell the truth, he was not quite sure if his sister was in fun or earnest.

      'Nonsense, Maia!' he said. 'Why, that was hundreds of years ago. You don't suppose the bears have gone on living ever since, do you? Besides, it wouldn't do at all. See, there are two smaller chairs and one arm-chair here. Two small cups and one big one. It's just the wrong way for the bears. It must be two children and one big person that live here.'

      Maia seemed somewhat reassured.

      'Do you think I may take a drink of milk, then?' she said. 'I am so thirsty.'

      'I should think you might,' said Rollo. 'You see we can come back and pay for it another day when they're at home. If we had any money we might leave it here on the table, to show we're honest. But we haven't any.'

      'No,' said Maia, as she poured out some milk, taking care not to spill any on the tablecloth, 'not a farthing. Oh, Rollo,' she continued, 'such delicious milk! Won't you have some?'

      'No; I'm not thirsty,' he replied. 'See, Maia, there's another little kitchen out of this—for washing dishes in—a sort of scullery,' for he had opened another door as he spoke.

      'And, oh, Rollo,' said Maia, peering about, 'see, there's a little stair. Oh, do let's go up.'

      It seemed a case of 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' Having made themselves so much at home, the children felt inclined to go a little farther. They had soon climbed the tiny staircase and were rewarded for their labour by finding two little bed-rooms, furnished just alike, and though neat and exquisitely clean, as plain and simple as the kitchen.

      'Really, Rollo,' said Maia, 'this house might have been built by the fairies for us two, and see, isn't it odd? the beds are quite small, like ours. I don't know where the big person sleeps whom the arm-chair and the big cup downstairs are for.'

      'Perhaps there's another room,' said Rollo, but after hunting about they found there was nothing more, and they came downstairs again to the kitchen, more puzzled than ever as to whom the queer little house could belong to.

      'We'll come back again, the very first day we can,' said Maia, 'and tell the people about having taken the milk,' and then they left the cottage, carefully closing the door and gate behind them, and made their way back to where they had left Nanni. It took them longer than they had expected—either they mistook their way, or had wandered farther than they had imagined. But Nanni had suffered no anxiety on their account, for, even before they got up to her, they saw that she was enjoying a peaceful slumber.

      'Poor thing!' said Maia. 'She must be very tired. I never knew her so sleepy before. Wake up, Nanni, wake up,' she went on, touching the maid gently on the shoulder. Up jumped Nanni, rubbing her eyes, but looking nevertheless very awake and good-humoured.

      'Such a beautiful sleep as I've had, to be sure,' she exclaimed.

      'Then you haven't been wondering what had become of us?' said Rollo.

      'Bless you, no, sir,' replied Nanni. 'You haven't been very long away, surely? I never did have such a beautiful sleep. There must be something in the air of this forest that makes one sleep. And such lovely dreams! I thought I saw a lady all dressed in green—dark green and light green,—for all the world like the fir-trees in spring, and with long light hair. She stooped over me and smiled, as if she was going to say something, but just then I awoke and saw Miss Maia.'

      'And what do you think we've seen?' said Maia. 'The dearest little cottage you can fancy. Just like what Rollo and I would like to live in all by ourselves. And there was nobody there; wasn't it queer, Nanni?'

      Nanni was much impressed, but when she had heard all about the children's adventure she grew a little frightened.

      'I hope no harm will come of it,' she said. 'If it were a witch's cottage;' and she shivered.

      'Nonsense, Nanni,' said Rollo; 'witches don't have cottages like that,—all so bright and clean, and delicious new milk to drink.'

      But Nanni was not so easily consoled. 'I hope no harm may come of it,' she repeated.

      By the lengthening shadows they saw that the afternoon was advancing, and that, if they did not