Her name suited her, for she was an elf, a sprite, a creature so fairy-like and beautiful that she seemed unearthly.
"Muvver sended for oo," cried Fay, as Jane kissed her, "an' oo never tome." "I didn't know, Fay; but I've come now." Fay was a child of outdoors, of the garden and ditch and field, and she was dirty and ragged.

But rags and dirt did not hide her beauty.

The one thin little bedraggled garment she wore half covered her fine, slim body.

Red as cherries were her cheeks and lips; her eyes were violet blue, and the crown of her childish loveliness was the curling golden hair.

All the children of Cottonwoods were Jane Withersteen's friends, she loved them all.