She remembered now
everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up
to her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself,
had she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right
over the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had
passed the night. It so entranced her that she could think of
nothing else.
"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!" she cried.
Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now
knew that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it
began to grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce
believe it was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain
her now. It always remained as complete as ever, but it became
smaller and smaller, and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the
snow crept closer, lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the
size of a little dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you
could see the smoke and the door-handle and the roses on the wall,
every one complete. The glow-worm fight was waning too, but it was
still there. "Darling, loveliest, don't go!" Maimie cried, falling on
her knees, for the little house was now the size of a reel of thread,
but still quite complete. But as she stretched out her arms
imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself, and
where the little house had been was now one unbroken expanse of snow.
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