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glass, were backed by small, beautifully woven curtains that Keith guessed had been rags they’d unraveled and blended together again. Little details gave away clues to the identity of the occupants of each house. Marm, one of Holl’s—and Keith’s—best friends, had carved an ornamented trellis-work surrounded by the figures of animals on the wall that faced away from the road. This season, the trellis was covered by climbing green grapevines. Marm’s wife, Ranna, was a celebrated wine-maker.
    Without knowing Holl’s personal taste, or Maura’s skill with a garden, Keith would still have picked out the sixth cottage as theirs. Neat as hospital corners, the little borders around the edges of the tiny house glowed with beauty. Garnet tea roses, proportionately accurate for the Little Folk, grew closest to the house, bracketing the dark walls with spots of rich color. Autumn flowers were just coming into bloom. Hummocks of blue asters dotted the dark beds. Most particularly, on either side of the doorposts grew a handful of white bellflowers, a token and a tribute to Holl’s difficult journey overseas to win his lady’s hand. Keith grinned as he rapped on the roof’s edge with his knuckles.
    Inside, he heard hubbub, and Holl, his cheeks red, peered out the curtained window.
    “It’s you, then,” Holl said, pulling the door open. “Miss here won’t take her sleep. I’ve been walking her up and down for an hour. I think she knows there was company coming.” Without shifting the bundle in his arms he rolled his shoulders to ease them. “Will you take her so I can stretch a bit?”
    “Boy, she’s grown, hasn’t she?” Keith said, accepting his ‘niece’ in his two hands. The baby, still hairless and toothless, looked like any baby he’d ever seen, except that her eyes were already turning green to match her mother’s, and no Big baby ever sprouted those ornately-whorled ears. The points were just a little softer than an adult’s, the way a kitten’s ears were rounder than a cat’s. Asrai recognized Keith and cooed at him before her attention wandered off again after the next pretty shadow. He cradled her on one elbow and felt around in his pocket.
    “Asrai?” he said softly. “Hey, baldy, I’m talking to you.”
    The baby’s cloudy eyes wandered up to his face, and focused just for a second. With surprising speed, her tiny fist shot up and grabbed. She pulled down, trying to get her captured handful into her mouth.
    “Aaagh!” Keith breathed, trying not to yell. He put his hand up to get between the baby and his cheek. “Holl, help. She’s got my whiskers.” Keith’s whiskers, a magical Christmas present from the Little Folk some three years before, were tangible but invisible to the average eye.
    Holl sprang forward to undo Asrai’s fist, and picked the invisible strands by touch one by one from between her fingers. “There, there. Well, there’s no doubt now she’s got the second sight, is there?”
    “You sound pleased,” Keith said, rubbing the sore place where his offended vibrissae were rooted. “Why didn’t you tell me she’d grab?”
    “My apologies. She’s always taking handfuls of her mother’s hair,” Holl explained, a little embarrassed, “but yours was too short to catch. I didn’t think of the whiskers. We don’t know what she can see, if you follow. We’re new at being parents. Any fresh discovery is as if it’s the first time it’s ever happened in the world. Is it all right?”
    “No problem,” Keith said. “I guess they can’t be pulled out, can they?” He glanced down at the baby, who wasn’t at all upset to have her new discovery taken away from her. He put his hand back into his pocket. “Hey, kid, you know I brought you something for yourself.” The baby’s eyes fixed on his hand as he waved a blue rubber ring at her. “Look. Teething toy.”
    “It’s a little soon for that, Keith Doyle,” Holl protested.
    “Nope, my mom said teething