"_Isn't_ it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on the
soft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'm
sure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland is
hidden somewhere here, if only we could find it."
"If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but,
any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come here
very often."
Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work to make themselves a house in
the centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed it
very much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood and
big stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes up
with bracken and furze.
"And if the fairies _do_ come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleased
to find a house all ready, won't they?"
Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dry
leaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it was
quite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they were
very hot and very tired and _rather_ dirty.
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