120 WHAT DAISY SAW ONE NIGHT.

Sheltering straw. The bat on which the fairy rode went
straight to this place, where it was let loose, and crept instantly
into a crevice; a cracked stone had given way, leaving a sort
of little cave in the wall. This was her home, and she had
her little ones there.

‘Get off your bat,” said the fairy, ‘and I will hang him
up outside. It is not convenient having such a crowd here.”

Then Daisy noticed that the bat had neat little hooks on
his wings, by which he could hang himself up to the thatch head-
. downwards, hiding his bright eyes aud furry nose between his
wings, which folded themselves across his face. The fairy’s
bat moved in a way of its own, hooking itself warily along till
it managed to get into the hole. Daisy and the fairy stayed
outside to watch, and they saw the bat give milk to her young
ones just as the cow feeds its calf.

‘““T thought bats were a kind of bird, they foal just aS a
said Daisy. ‘‘ I thought they made nests and laid eggs

“Then you thought wrong,” said the fairy. ‘I advise
you not to think, if you can’t think any wiser than that.”

“They have wings, anyhow,” said Daisy, rather in-
dignantly.

‘“ You have legs,” said the fairy, ‘‘and so has a goose. So
you must be a goose according to ¢hat way of settling things.
You might as well say that everything with legs must be a little
girl, as say that everything with wings must be a bird. A bat
lays no eggs, and is covered with fur instead of feathers. It is
no more a bird than I am. But while we are wasting time
here the ball will be beginning. Ill saddle your bat if you
will wait a moment.”

The fairy went away and came back again very fast, carry-
ing a velvet dock-leaf, which he doubled up and placed on the
bat’s back, where it made a lovely soft saddle. |