LITTLE SWORD AND THE INKMAKER Out across the shining expanse of Silverwater, now lying unruffled by any breath of wind, went flickering a little blue butterfly, as blue as if a gentian blossom had taken to itself wings or a speck of sky had fluttered down to meet its bright reflection in the lake.

It was a foolish expedition for the little explorer, so far from shore, and over that lonely, treacherous element which has such scant mercy for butterflies.

The turquoise wings dipped and rose, sometimes coming so close to the water that the Babe caught his breath, thinking the frail voyager's eyes were unable to distinguish between the crystal purity of the water and that of the air.

At last a wing tip, or more likely the tip of the velvet tail, brushed the surface.

It was only the lightest touch; and instantly, suddenly, as if startled by the chill contact, the azure flutterer rose again.