in the meantime my little visitor was glancing about the room with piercing eyes that seemed to take in everything.

"H'm!—writer, I suppose?" he said, nodding his head towards my desk, which was as usual littered with papers. "What line? You don't look very clever," and he glanced at me critically from under his bushy eyebrows.

"I only write books for children," I answered, "and one doesn't have to be very clever to do that."

"Oh, children!" said the little Yellow Dwarf—as I had begun to call him in my own mind. "No, you don't have to be clever, but you have to be—er—by the way, do you write fairy stories?" he interrupted himself to ask.

"Sometimes," I answered.

"Ah! then I can put you up to a thing or two. I'm partly a fairy myself.

"You see, it's this way," he went on hastily, seeing, I suppose, that I looked somewhat surprised at this unexpected piece of information. "Some hundreds of years ago—oh! ever so many—long before the present Japanese Empire was founded, in fact, there was a man named Shin Shira Scaramanga Manousa Yama Hawa——"

"Good gracious!" I exclaimed.

"Don't interrupt," said the little Yellow Dwarf, "it's rude, and besides, you make me forget—I can't even think now what the rest of the gentleman's name was—but anyhow, he was an ancestor of mine, and that much of his name belongs to me."

"How much?" I inquired.

"Shin Shira Scaramanga Manousa Yama Hawa," repeated the Yellow Dwarf; "but you needn't say it all," he added hastily, seeing, I suppose, that I looked rather distressed, "Shin Shira will do; in fact, that's what I am always called. Well, to continue. This ancestor of mine, part of whose name I bear, did something or other to offend his great-grandmother, who was a very influential sort of a fairy—I could tell you the whole story, but it's a very long one and I'll have to tell you that another time—and she was so angry with him that she condemned him to appear or disappear whenever she liked and at whatever time or place that she chose, for ever."

"For ever?" I inquired incredulously.

"Why not?" asked Shin Shira. "Fairies, you know, are immortal, and my ancestor had fairy blood in his veins. Well, to make a long story short, the spell, or whatever you choose to call it, which his great-grandmother cast over him, didn't work in him, nor in his son, nor even in his grandson; but several hundreds of years afterwards I was born, and then it suddenly took effect, and I have always been afflicted with the exceedingly uncomfortable misfortune of having to appear or disappear whenever the old lady likes, and in whatever place she chooses.

"It's terribly awkward at times, for one minute I may be in China taking tea with a Mandarin of the Blue Button, and have to disappear suddenly, turning up a minute later in a first-class carriage on the Underground Railway, greatly to the surprise and indignation of the passengers, especially if it happens to be overcrowded without me, as it very often is.

"Not but what it has its advantages too," he added thoughtfully, "and this very power of being able to disappear suddenly has just got me out of a most serious dilemma."

"Won't you tell me about it?" I inquired with considerable curiosity, for I was beginning to be very interested in this singular little person's account of himself.

"With pleasure," said Shin Shira; and settling himself more comfortably in "the Toad," resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, and placing the tips of his fingers together, he told me the following story.

"The very last place in which I appeared before turning up here, was in the grounds of the Palace belonging to the Grand Panjandrum—"

"Where is that situated, if you please?" I ventured to inquire.

Shin Shira gave me a quick glance.

"Do you mean to say that you actually don't even know where the land of the Grand Panjandrum is?" he asked. "H'm! well," he continued as I shook my head, "I remarked a short time ago that you didn't look very clever, but really, I couldn't have believed that you were so ignorant as all that. You'd better look it up in your atlas when I am gone, I can't bother to explain where it is now—but to resume my story. I appeared there, as I said, and in the middle of the kitchen garden all amongst the cabbages and beans.

"I could at first see nobody about, but at last I heard somebody singing, and presently came upon a man carrying a basket in which were some cabbages that he had evidently just gathered.

"Although he was singing so cheerfully, his head was bound up with a handkerchief, and I could see that his face was badly swollen.

"When he had come a little nearer, I bowed politely and inquired of him what place it was, for my surroundings were quite strange to me, it being my first visit to the neighbourhood.

"He told me where I was, and explained that he was the Grand Panjandrum's Chief Cook, and that he had been to gather cabbages to make an apple pie with."

I was about to ask how this was possible, when I caught Shin Shira's eye, and I could see by the light in it that he was expecting me to make some inquiry; but I was determined that he should not again have the opportunity of remarking upon my ignorance, so I held my tongue and said nothing, as though gathering cabbages in order to make an apple pie was the most natural thing in the world to do.

He waited for a moment and then continued—

"I stood talking to the man for some time, and at last I asked what was the matter with his face.

"'I've the toothache,' he said ruefully, 'and that's why I was singing; I'm told that it's a capital remedy.'

"'I'll see if I can't find a better one,' said I, taking up this little book, which I always carry with me." And Shin Shira held out for my inspection a tiny volume bound in yellow leather, with golden clasps, which was attached to his girdle by a long golden chain.

"This," he explained, "is a very remarkable book, and has been in our family for many hundreds of years. It contains directions what to do in any difficulty whatsoever, with the aid of the fairy power, which, as I have told you, I inherit from my fairy ancestor.

"The only difficulty is that, as I am partly a mortal, sometimes (owing perhaps to my fairy great-great-great-grandmother being in a bad temper at the moment) the fairy spell refuses to work, and then I am left in the lurch.

"This time, however, it worked splendidly, for I had only to turn to the word 'Toothache' to discover that the fairy remedy was to 'rub the other side of the face with a stinging nettle, and the pain and swelling would instantly disappear.'

"Fortunately there were plenty of nettles to be found in a neglected corner of the garden, and I quickly applied the remedy, which worked, as the saying is, 'like magic,' for the Grand Panjandrum's Chief Cook's face resumed its normal size at once, and the pain vanished immediately.

"It is needless to say that he was very grateful, and we were walking back to the Palace, where he had just promised to regale me with some of the choicest viands in his larder, when we met, coming towards us, a most doleful-looking individual, clothed in black and wearing a most woebegone visage.

"'It's the Court Physician,' said the Cook; 'I wonder why he is looking so melancholy. May I venture to ask, sir,' he inquired respectfully, 'the occasion of your sorrow?'

"'I am to be executed to-morrow by the Grand Panjandrum's order,' said the Court Physician dolefully, wiping a tear of self-pity