When Marjorie's nurse went out, it was Shaun who took Marjorie to play in the park. Sometimes they stayed in the big gardens of Marjorie's home, and Shaun told stories.

But occasionally the little girl liked to go where she would meet her friends.

On such a day Shaun and Marjorie were playing ball with the children in the park. They were throwing the ball to one another.

Shaun was standing among them like a giant. He was trying to be gentle as he threw the ball. But all at once his strength let go and over the tree tops went the ball.

"O-oh, what a terrible throw!" sneered a small boy.

Shaun ran and brought back the ball. He tried to be more careful. But once he threw it into the duck pond, and at last he lost it altogether. He heard a child snickering as he came back from an unsuccessful search.

Marjorie said, "Let's go home. I'm tired, anyway."

She looked cross, but she did not say a word to Shaun on the way home.

That night Shaun was dressing to help the butler serve dinner. He looked at his big hands.

He looked at his strong arms and sighed, "Och! Shaun O'Day is too big to be the playmate of a fairy princess!"

But he did not worry until later.

Then that evening when he was helping wash dishes, the cook said, "Watch out, boy. You'll break the dishes yet, with your big, clumsy hands."

He tried so hard to be careful. He tried too hard, perhaps, for what cook had warned him of came to pass. He broke a precious cup and saucer.

The other servants said nothing, but smiled behind their hands.

Cook, however, cautioned, "Mind you don't do that again, boy."

Shaun went to his room with a heavy heart that night. What was the matter? Was he too big, too clumsy?

Would he never learn to be deft and quick like Perkins the butler? Or neat and brisk like the chauffeur Paul?

Oh, well, he could only try. He could be very careful. But anyway, Marjorie still loved his tales.

He could tell stories and amuse the Princess. That was one thing none of the others could do. He fell asleep smiling.

A few days later, Marjorie told him that she was planning a birthday party. She told him about all the amusements they were to have. Many children were to be asked.

They would have ice cream and cake and chocolate in the garden under the trees. Shaun would serve them.

They would play games, and Shaun would tell them stories. Oh, that was to be the best part of all, Marjorie thought.

Shaun and the little girl planned the party together. Shaun suggested an Irish game, and Marjorie said it would be fun to play it.

So the day arrived. It was a shiny spring day. It was a pretty sight to see the little boys and girls running about and playing together in the green garden.

Marjorie cried out, "Come now! Shaun will show you how to play his game."

And the tall lad stood among the little children. He tried to make them understand what fun it was to play an old Irish game.

It was a game that Shaun had played and that Shaun's father had played and perhaps Shaun's father's father.

But these young Americans did not like it. They said so. They turned their backs and refused to play it.

So Marjorie said, "Then Shaun will tell us a story."

The children gathered around Shaun and he began: "Once upon a time in old Ireland—"

"Will there be any wars in the story?" asked one of the children—a boy, of course.

Shaun twinkled and replied, "Perhaps."

Then he went on. He was telling a fairy tale. The boys began to realize that it was not about wild Indians and wars. They twisted and fidgeted. They dug their heels into the ground, and one boy pinched another. He squealed aloud.

"S-sh!" said one girl. "Stop making that noise!"

But the boys did not want to listen.

One boy stood up and said, "Who wants to hear about fairies?"

"I don't! I don't!" yelled the others.

Marjorie frowned.

The boys ran away, shouting, "Come on! Let's play robbers."

Marjorie said, "They would have liked Shaun's story. They should have listened. It was awf'lly 'citing! But he hardly started to tell it."

By this time the group was scattered. Even the little girls were whispering together.

Shaun got up and walked away. He walked to a bench at the other end of the garden and sat down. He was thinking very deeply.

He sat there until he heard his name called. He had to go into the house to help bring out ice cream and cake and chocolate to Marjorie's guests.

As he served little ice cream boats and flowers and animals, his thoughts were far away. The crystal and gold of the plates and goblets did not seem so lovely as before.

Everything on the table swam before Shaun's eyes. Even the children's faces seemed blurred. He heard their talk and laughter in a dream.

He was very unhappy.

"Oh, Shaun, do look what you're doing!" cried a voice in distress.

Shaun looked in horror at what he had done. He had poured hot chocolate over the tablecloth. It was trickling down over a little girl's dress.

Perkins the butler grabbed the chocolate pot out of Shaun's hand.

He muttered, "Clumsy fellow!" and started mopping up.

The little girl began to cry.

Shaun went into the kitchen for a fresh napkin. When he came out to the party again, he heard the children snickering and whispering among themselves. As he approached the table, they stopped. He knew they were making sport of his clumsiness.

He looked at Marjorie. There were tears in her brown eyes, and she was biting her lip. That night Shaun packed his few things and left a letter for Marjorie.

He told her that he was too clumsy to stay in the home of a princess any longer. He told her that he should never forget her kindness to him.

Then he wrote another letter and put a stamp on it. He walked out of the big house with the letter in one hand and his old Irish carpet bag in the other.

He walked along the bright city streets until he came to a mail box. He kissed the letter and then dropped it into the box.

Dawn O'Day read the letter a few weeks later in Ireland.

This is what it said:

"My Dawn O'Day—

"At last I am leaving the fairy folk. My fingers have grown too clumsy and my arms too big for the dainty likes of the Good People. Those elves, the children of this bright world, do not be wanting Shaun O'Day any more.

"And so, little Eileen, I am coming back to you and Ireland. And in my pocket is silver and gold to buy us a wedding and a cottage.

"But the cottage will not be in that New Island. 'Twill be in the old Emerald Isle.

Your Shaun."

Shaun sold everything he had but an old suit of clothes. He bought a ticket on a boat going to England and sailed away from New York.

As the big ship left behind her the great American city, the Irish lad saluted and murmured, "Farewell, fairyland. 'Tis too grand you are for the likes of a simple lad like me. But, och, a wonderful, great fairyland you are!"

Slowly the stately harbor disappeared from view.