54 THE FAIRY-FOLK OF THE BLUE HILL.

“Very well,” replied the blue dragon-fly
waving them back, “then I will await their
return. Follow me.”

Away flew the dragon-fly, followed at a re-
spectful distance by her attendants.

So light was the blue dragon-fly, and so
strong her gauzy wings, that before long she
reached Blue Hill that she knew to be the
headquarters of the giants. As she soared up
the hill, she all at once heard the regular click
of hammers, and the sound of voices keeping
time with the blows. As she approached, she
saw, on the side of the hill that looks toward
the setting sun and which, then as now, re-
flected his last rays, hundreds of little gnomes
at work with their tiny hammers.

Sturdy of limb, with peaked caps, peaked
beards, and grave faces, the little band worked
industriously away, and the blue dragon-fly
lighted on a tree near by, and listened to the
song they sang :—

“Spirit of yon leafy dell,
Grant, we beg, a fairy well.
May its waters, fresh as dew,
Flow only for the good and true.
Should the bad and false pass by,