{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_75166/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_75166","id":"gutenberg_75166","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75166","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales","Millers -- Juvenile fiction","Siblings -- Juvenile fiction","Storytelling -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"[Cover Illustration]\n\n                                STORIES\n                           TOLD BY THE MILLER\n\n                            BY VIOLET JACOB\n                 AUTHOR OF \u201cIRRESOLUTE CATHERINE,\u201d ETC.\n\n                           WITH ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n                                 LONDON\n                   JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.\n                                  1909\n\n\n\n\n                                   TO\n                              MY BOY HARRY\n\n\n\n\n                                CONTENTS\n\n               1. STORIES TOLD BY THE MILLER\n               2. THE STORY OF THE WATER-NIX\n               3. THE KING OF GROWGLAND\u2019S CROWN\n               4. THE STORY OF MASTER BOGEY\n               5. THE TREE OF PRIDE\n               6. THE STORY OF FARMYARD MAGGIE\n               7. THE FIDDLING GOBLIN\n               8. THE WITCH\u2019S CLOAK\n               9. CONCLUSION\n\n\n\n\n                          LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n               1. \u201cONCE . . . THE MILLER\u2019S MAN SAW HER\u201d\n               2. \u201cTHEN THE BIRD TOLD HER THE WHOLE PLOT\u201d\n               3. \u201cSHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT\u201d\n               4. \u201cSHE WOULD SCARCE ANSWER HER FATHER WHEN HE\n                    SPOKE\u201d\n               5. \u201cMAGGIE TOOK IT AND BEGAN TO ROCK IT ABOUT\u201d\n               6. \u201cWHIRLING HER SPANGLED VEIL, SHE BEGAN TO\n                    GLIDE ABOUT\u201d\n               7. \u201c\u2018WHO ARE YOU?\u2019 INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                       STORIES TOLD BY THE MILLER\n\n\nJanet and little Peter lived in an old white-washed cottage that stood\nin a field by the border of the mill-pool. It was a tiny,\nweather-stained cot, to which a narrow path led through a gap in the low\nwall of the highroad. Across the road stood the mill itself, grey,\nwindowless, and solid, with stone steps leading up to a door, through\nwhich, on a grinding day, you could hear the noise of the machinery and\nsee the dusty atmosphere within. Peter and Janet thought the mill-field\nover the road a charming place; and so it was, for at one end the\noverflow from the tree-hidden dam poured down its paved slide in a white\nwaterfall, to wander, a zigzagging stream, through the field and out,\nunder the road, to the pool near their cottage. From the farther side of\nthe dam the mill-lead ran evenly below the gnarled roots of the trees\nshadowing its course, and was lost in that dark hole in the wall behind\nwhich the flashing wheel turned. The water came racing out to join the\noverflow and dive with it through the causeway, coming up in the pool\nbeyond. From there it meandered over the country into the river, which\ncarried it to the sea. On wild days in winter you might hear the roaring\nsound of the North Sea beating against the coast.\n\nJanet and her brother were orphans, and their lives were very hard; for\ntheir grandmother, with whom they had been lately sent to live, was a\ncruel old woman who beat poor little Peter when she was out of temper.\nJanet came in for rough words, and blows, too, sometimes, although she\nwas almost seventeen, and old enough to take care of herself. Many a\ntime she longed to run away, but in her heart she knew that she would\nnever do so because she could not leave her brother alone. She was a\ngood girl, and a pretty one besides, for her hair was like the corn and\nshe was as slender as a bulrush. The neighbours whose boys and girls\npassed on their way from school would not let their children have\nanything to do with little Peter, for many thought that his wicked old\ngrandmother was a witch. The children had made a rhyme that they used to\nsing. It was like this:\n\n             \u201cPeter, Peter, the witch\u2019s brat,\n             Lives in the house with a green-eyed cat!\n             Peter, Peter, we jump for joy,\n             Throwing stones at the witch\u2019s boy!\u201d\n\nAnd then sometimes they would throw them, but not when Janet was by, for\nshe would catch them and shake them.\n\n\u201c_You_ are the green-eyed cat!\u201d they would shout, as they saw her angry\nface. But they took care to run as they said it.\n\nIn spite of their troubles, the brother and sister were not always\nunhappy, for there were many things they liked. One was the crooked old\ncherry-tree that grew between their cottage and the pool, and when the\nleaves turned fiery rose-colour in the autumn Peter would pick them up\nas they dropped and make them stand in rows against the wood-pile,\npretending they were armies of red soldiers. The brightest and reddest\nones were the generals, the paler ones the privates. And the wild\ncherries tasted delicious.\n\nOne day Peter was crying bitterly. The old woman had beaten him and he\nwas very sad.\n\n\u201cCome away,\u201d said Janet. \u201cWe will go to the mill, for I can hear the\ngrinding going on. No one will notice if we slip into the field, and we\ncan look right in and see the wheel itself.\u201d\n\nPeter forgot all about his trouble and stopped crying, for she had never\nallowed him to go so near the wheel before. They set off and went round\nthe back of the mill buildings. Oh, how charmed he was! Janet lifted him\nup and he looked through the big hole. Round and round went the great\nspokes of the wheel, and the water, clear as crystal in the darkness,\ndripped from it and fell in showers into the brown swirl below. The\nsides of the walls were green with slime and little clumps of fern, and\nthe long mosses streamed down like tresses of emerald-coloured hair. At\nlast he drew back and she sat him on the ground. Then they turned round\nto go home, and nearly jumped out of their skins, for there was the\nmiller looking at them. He was a tall young man, with a brown face and\nclothes covered with white dust; even the leather leggings he wore were\nwhite, and his hat, which he had pushed back, was white too.\n\n\u201cWell, my man,\u201d said he to Peter, \u201cand what do you think of the wheel?\u201d\n\nPeter did not know what to say, he was so much taken aback.\n\n\u201cWhen I was a little boy,\u201d said the miller, \u201cI was just like you, and\ncouldn\u2019t keep away from a mill-wheel if there was one within twenty\nmiles. \u2018When I\u2019m a man,\u2019 said I, \u2018it\u2019s a miller I\u2019ll be.\u2019 And a miller I\nam.\u201d\n\nBut little Peter was still too much startled to understand friendliness.\nHe pointed to the cottage over the road.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t tell grandmother we came here?\u201d he asked, his eyes filling\nwith tears.\n\n\u201cNot I,\u201d said the miller.\n\n\u201cShe would beat him if you did,\u201d remarked Janet.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s bad,\u201d observed the miller, pushing his hat farther back. \u201cI had\na grandmother, too, when I was a little lad; she had a great cap and\nhorn spectacles.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd did she beat you?\u201d said Peter, gaining courage.\n\n\u201cNot she!\u201d exclaimed the miller. \u201cBut she used to comfort me if anyone\nelse did. Such fine tales she used to tell me, too\u2014some out of a book\nand some out of her head! I\u2019ve got the book in the house now.\u201d\n\nLittle Peter loved stories more than anything in the world, and every\nmoment he was growing less afraid of the miller.\n\n\u201cOh, tell me one!\u201d he cried. \u201cPlease tell me one!\u201d\n\n\u201cSit down, then,\u201d he said, \u201cand you, too, my pretty lass. The first I\ncan mind her telling me was about this very mill. Would you like to hear\nabout that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes!\u201d cried little Peter.\n\nAnd so they sat down by the mill-lead, and the miller began his story.\n\n\n\n\n                       THE STORY OF THE WATER-NIX\n\n\nMy grandmother was a wonderful woman (said he): there was nothing she\nheard that she ever forgot and she had a good education at her back,\ntoo. Not a thing happened but she could make a story out of it, and on\nthe days when she went to market she used to take me with her in the\ncart; she would drive and I sat up beside her, and it was then I heard\nfrom her what I am going to tell you now.\n\nLong ago there lived in the deep water round the wheel a Water-Nix. She\nwas the most beautiful lady ever seen, though it was not many had the\nluck to catch sight of her, for she seldom came out of her hiding-place\nnear the walls. A body might live here a year and never see her. But\nsometimes, on light nights, she would dive under the door and swim out,\nand even sit up on the bank, with her thin white smock trailing in the\nwater. Once\u2014so grandmother said\u2014the miller\u2019s man saw her perched upon\nthe wall by the road, just where the stream runs under it. The drops\nwere falling off her white feet on to the grass\u2014so he told\ngrandmother\u2014and though there was only a little crescent like a sickle\nin the sky that night, he could see the water-lilies twisted in her\nhair. She was laughing and holding up her arms at the moon.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cONCE . . . THE MILLER\u2019S MAN SAW HER.\u201d]\n\nAnd have _you_ ever seen her? inquired little Peter, his eyes round.\n\nNever, said the miller. Well, to go on: Sometimes she would get through\nthe causeway and go and lie in the pool over yonder near your cottage,\nfloating and sending the ripples widening in great circles round her.\n\nNow, it happened one day that the Nix was in her place, hidden behind\nthe door near the wheel, when a pedlar passed by on the road. He had a\npack on his back, gold rings in his ears and a staff in his hand; for he\nwas a lusty fellow, landed off a ship that had come in from the Baltic,\nand was travelling inland to sell what wares he could carry. He was\nsinging as he went, and the Nix came out and swam close under the walls\nto hear him. He sang of the sea, and there was something in his voice\nthat reminded you of the wind droning in the rigging. (How grandmother\nknew that I don\u2019t know, for she wasn\u2019t there to hear him; but she had\nonce been in a ship off the coast of Jutland, so I suppose she guessed\nit.)\n\n            \u201cOut and home and out again,\n              As the tide rolls heavily,\n            With the ship to steer and the fog to fear,\n              By the grey banks near the sea.\n\n            \u201cHand to the helm and heart to the blast,\n              And face to the driving rain,\n            And the sea runs high to the glowering sky\n              As we sail for the North again.\n\n            \u201cHark to the mermaids off the shore,\n              As they sing so bonnilie\n            Through the rocks and caves to the sounding waves\n              In the grey lands out at sea,\n              In the caves across the sea.\u201d\n\nShe had never heard such words or such a tune in her life, and she rose,\nhead and shoulders, out of the water, crying to the pedlar to sing it\nagain. But when he saw the yellow hearts of the water-lilies round her\nhead, he took them for gold, and he leaned over the little wall and made\na snatch at them. The Nix dived under again and went back like a flash\nto the darkness by the wheel.\n\nBut all day long she sat there, singing to herself all she could\nremember of the song of the pedlar; she was like one possessed:\n\n                 \u201cBy the grey banks near the sea,\u201d\n\nshe sang, rocking herself about,\n\n                   \u201cIn the caves across the sea.\u201d\n\nNow, as time went on her longing grew stronger and stronger: all the day\nshe thought of the sea and the grey caves of the coast, and all night\nshe sat on the wall, looking out eastwards and listening for any sound\nof water that might come inland. (It was at this time that the miller\u2019s\nman saw her.) Why this happened to her I can\u2019t tell, for I don\u2019t know.\nPerhaps her relations were those sea-kelpies that haunt the Baltic.\n\nBe that as it may, one night she crept out of the pool and followed the\nbanks of the wet ditch by which it escapes, making for the river. It\nmust have been a queer sight to see her as she went, with her wet\ngarments clinging round her, running down the fields; I always used to\nfancy when I was a boy how she would look from side to side, afraid of\nbeing seen, and how she would stop here and there to listen for the sea.\nShe reached the marshes and ran out till she felt the incoming tide\nabout her feet. The steeple of the town and its lights were strange to\nher, but long before she got near them, the water was deep, and she swam\nunder the bridge and out through the shipping in the harbour till she\nheard the surf and saw the white line over the bar.\n\nOutside the sea was thundering and booming, and the salt spray flew in\nher face, for a rough night was setting in. Farther and farther she\nswam, and soon she felt the current running strong with her towards the\ncliffs that stand miles out and look towards Denmark. The gulls came\nswooping over her, but she did not care; she had seen them at times\nscreaming behind the plough in the fields round the mill. But, as the\nwind rose and the waves lifted her up and tossed her, she grew\nfrightened; for all she knew of waters was the stillness of the pool.\n\nThe storm was louder as night went on, and by morning she was so much\nbuffeted about that she lay floating among the seaweed. She had no\nstrength left to go one way or another, and at last she was cast up on a\nbit of sandy shore and sat under the cliffs wondering what to do, for\nthe place was strange and she was afraid of all the world. A track wound\nupwards, so she followed it till it brought her out high above the\nsands. The size of the sea bewildered her and she gazed about for some\nplace in which to hide.\n\nClose by was a little circle of tumble-down wall; she looked over it\ninto a tangle of weeds, and saw what seemed to her the strangest thing\nof all, for she did not know it was a deserted graveyard. If she had she\nwould have been no wiser. The crosses leaned sideways out of the rank\nthistles and hemlock. Some of the stones lay flat, with only their\ncarved corners sticking out and some had the shape of tables; some were\nno more than broken pieces. But one of the graves had once been a very\ngrand place, with a little building over it to shelter the stone; its\nroof was battered in, but it had a helmet and strange words cut above\nthe doorway. The Nix made her way to it through the hemlock; in she went\nand crouched against its farthest corner. It was the quietest spot she\nhad seen. She was so weary that she did not know what to do, and the sun\ndazzled her, for it was growing strong and she was accustomed to dark\nplaces.\n\nShe had lain there some time when she heard steps not far off. Someone\nwas coming along the ridge of the cliffs. In another minute a brown goat\nhad jumped into a gap in the circle, and stood staring in as though it\nwere counting the tombstones, moving its upper lip from side to side.\nGoats seldom passed the mill, and she was half scared at its beard and\nwagging ears and the horns above its solemn face. As she looked a boy\nappeared behind it\u2014a rough-looking boy, with a shock of yellow hair and\na switch in his hand to drive the beast with. When he saw her he set up\na loud cry of terror, for he did not expect to find anyone in such a\nplace, and he had never seen a Water-Nix in his life. Then he took to\nhis heels, and the goat galloped after him, baaing as it went. The Nix\nlay quite still; she could not think why anyone should run away like\nthat.\n\nShe curled herself closer into her refuge.\n\nPresently she heard a noise like the beating of pots and pans and voices\ncoming nearer. She crept to the wall and looked over. A whole crowd of\nboys was coming with sticks in their hands, shouting, and as they caught\nsight of her, they cried louder, brandishing them. Some even had the\nhandles of old brooms and the goat-boy was at their head, beating a tin\nkettle. \u201c_There_ she is!\u201d he cried.\n\nThen the poor Nix understood that they had come out after her, and she\nclimbed out of the graveyard on the side nearest the sea and began to\nrun for her life. She rushed down a narrow path winding among great\nboulders, and, when she was exhausted, she crept behind one of them and\nlay there till the voices had died away and she thought her pursuers had\ngiven up the chase. When all was still she rose and went on, not knowing\nwhere to go for peace. Great tears stood in her eyes as she thought of\nthe mill and the trees by the dam.\n\nIn time she came to a huge crag standing out into the waves and joined\nto the land by only a neck of rock no wider than the top of a wall. She\nhad no fear of growing giddy, for she knew nothing of the uncomfortable\nthings that happen to human beings, so she crossed it. The place looked\nso lonely that she was sure there could be nobody there. When she was\nover she turned the corner of a rock and found herself at the foot of a\nhigh wall, pierced by little shot windows and broken by a heavy iron\ndoor. In her astonishment she sprang back, for in front of it stood a\ntall man with a fierce face and eyes like a hawk. The Water-Nix turned\nand fled. Poor thing! she did not get far, for he bounded after her and\ncaught her by the wrist. She struggled and fought, but it was no good;\nhe seized her in his strong arms, and carried her in through the door.\n\nNow, inside the door was the court of a great tower, which was hidden on\nthe landward side by the top of the crag, and the man with the fierce\nface was a robber who had made his home in it. The people who lived in\nthe country round were terrified of him, for he would come out at night\nand harry their villages, robbing both rich and poor. No one could catch\nhim, because the narrow crossing over which the Nix had come was the\nonly way of getting at the tower, and he and his men would shoot from\nbehind the loopholes, killing all who approached. They could not get at\nhim from the sea, for the rock ran straight down into it like a wall and\nnobody could climb it.\n\nThe robber dragged the Nix into his tower, not because he wanted to kill\nher, but because he had no wife to be mistress of it, and he thought\nthat so beautiful a lady would be the very person. He was not at all\ncruel to her, and he brought her all the finest things in his\ntreasure-house. He offered her jewels he had plundered, necklaces of\npearls and diamonds stolen from the merchant ships he had attacked; for\nhe was a pirate too and his galleys were anchored in the deep water of\nthe caves below his rock. But she scarcely looked at them; the only\nornament she cared for was her wreath of water-lilies that she used to\npluck from the mill-pool.\n\nBut at last the time came when he got angry. \u201cTo-night I am going out,\u201d\nhe said. \u201cThe only thing I have not stolen is a wedding-ring, and now I\nwant one. I shall land at the first village up the coast, for I know\nthat the fishermen are at sea, and at the first house I go to I will\nseize the wife\u2019s wedding-ring. To-morrow we will be married with it.\u201d\n\nAmong the robber\u2019s captives was a priest he had taken prisoner, so he\ntold him that he must be ready to marry them as soon as he could get\nback with the ring. The priest was sorry for the Water-Nix and did not\nwant to do it.\n\n\u201cYou will have to,\u201d said the robber, \u201cor you shall be thrown into the\nsea.\u201d\n\nThen the poor Water-Nix wrung her hands and cried and sobbed so\npiteously that the priest\u2019s heart smote him, and he cudgelled his brains\nto think of some plan to save her. At last he found one. As soon as the\nrobber\u2019s back was turned he said: \u201cBring me the diamond necklace that he\ngave you and I will see what we can do.\u201d\n\nWhen he had got it he went to one of the robber\u2019s men.\n\n\u201cLook at this,\u201d said he. \u201cIf you will open the great door to-night when\nyour chief is gone, and let us all three out, you shall have it the\nmoment we reach the mainland. It is so valuable that, if you sell it,\nthe price will enable you to live honestly for the rest of your days.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t care for honesty,\u201d said the robber\u2019s man.\n\n\u201cWell, never mind about being honest,\u201d said the priest. \u201cYou can be rich\nwithout that.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a grand idea,\u201d replied the other. \u201cThe robber is a cruel\nmaster, so I will do as you say. But if you don\u2019t give me the necklace\nthe moment we get out of sight of the tower, I will kill you and the\nWater-Nix too.\u201d\n\nSo when it was dark, and the robber\u2019s galley had rowed away, the priest\ntook the necklace, hiding it under his clothes, and he and the Nix stole\nout to the door. Everyone was asleep or drinking but the man who waited\nfor them with the key he had contrived to get.\n\nThey let themselves out so noiselessly that no one heard them, for the\nrobber\u2019s man had oiled the lock, and when they reached the mainland the\npriest gave him the necklace.\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m off. Good luck to you!\u201d he said, as he snatched it. Then he\ntook to his heels and ran off with his treasure.\n\n\u201cAnd now I think that is all I can do for you,\u201d said the priest. And he\nleft the Water-Nix standing where she was, without so much as giving her\nhis blessing. The sooner he could put a few miles between himself and\nthe robber\u2019s tower the better, he thought.\n\nThe Nix looked round and round about her. Below lay the sea, moaning and\nwashing the shore, and not far off was the outline of the little\ngraveyard in the faint starlight. She ran on along the cliffs, for far\naway a few lights of the town by the river\u2019s mouth could be seen\ntwinkling in a row, and she knew that up that river lay the mill. As\nmorning dawned she found herself in a thick wood. She was glad, for what\nshe had seen of people made her wish to get as far from them as\npossible, and she determined to hide all day in the wood, and travel on\nall night. She ran far in among the trees, and threw herself down on a\nbank and fell asleep, for she was almost worn out and her feet ached\nfrom the rough ground.\n\nShe had slept a long time when she woke and saw, to her dismay, that\nsomeone else was sitting on the bank, quite near. He was a long, thin,\npale young man, with lank, untidy hair and shabby clothes, and he was\nreading aloud to himself out of a book on his knees. As she moved he\nturned and saw her over the fallen trunk behind which she lay. He shut\nhis book, taking care to keep a finger between the leaves to mark the\nplace, and looked calmly at her. He was the first person she had met who\ndid not seem surprised to see her. All the same, she prepared to run\naway.\n\n\u201cYou needn\u2019t be afraid,\u201d said the student\u2014for that is what he was. \u201cI\nnotice that you are a Water-Nix, and, that being so, you are the very\nperson I should wish to see. This is a poetry-book that I am reading;\nthe writing is fine enough, but there is nothing in it as fine as what\n_I_ am going to write. I am going to make a poem. Three days, I assure\nyou, have I wandered in this wood trying to think of a subject for it,\nand now I have it. It shall be no less than my meeting with yourself.\u201d\n\nAnd he said a long sentence in Latin, which the Nix could not\nunderstand; but, then, neither could she understand much of anything\nelse he had said, so it didn\u2019t matter.\n\n\u201cAh, yes, you are a Water-Nix,\u201d he continued\u2014\u201c_Nixiana Aquatica_.\u201d\n\nAnd he took a pencil out of his pocket and scribbled down a note on the\nmargin of his book.\n\nIt was some time before he left off saying learned things, and began to\nconsider how his companion had come to a place so far from the river,\nwhere not even a stream ran through the trees. He listened to the tale\nshe told him with astonishment, and at last he put aside his book and\npromised to help her to find the way to the mill. He was very sorry for\nher, though now and then he would forget her presence as he pulled out\nhis pencil to write down the beginning of the poem he meant to make.\n\nWhen night came the student and the Nix started off. He walked in front,\nand she went after him, like a dog following its master. In the morning\nthey hid in an overgrown quarry, for she was much too frightened to go\nabroad in the daylight; and thus they travelled till, after midnight on\nthe second day, they found themselves close to the highroad which ran\ntowards the mill-pool. They sat down to rest. All was so still that you\ncould hear sounds ever so far off, and they soon made out that someone\nwas coming to meet them. Then a man passed on the road; they could not\nsee him, but he was singing to himself. And what he sang was this:\n\n            \u201cOut and home and out again,\n              As the tide rolls heavily;\n            With the ship to steer and the fog to fear,\n              By the grey banks near the sea,\n              In the caves across the sea.\u201d\n\nThe Nix held her breath as the pedlar\u2014for it was he\u2014went by, and when\nhe began the second verse the thought of everything that had happened\nwent from her. All she could hear or remember was the beating of the\ngrey sea, calling her with its compelling voice.\n\nWithout a word she got up and followed the pedlar and left the student\nsitting by himself in the dark. He sat open-mouthed.\n\nBack to him from the distance came the sound of footsteps and the\nfloating refrain.\n\n\u201cBless me!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cBless me! _Nixiana Maritima!_\u201d\n\nBut it was too dark to write that down on the margin of his book.\n\nThe pedlar walked on singing, and she kept a little way behind him,\ntreading softly. On they went till the first streak of daylight broke in\nthe sky, for he was on his way to the town; he had sold all his wares\nand meant to go to sea again in the first ship he could find leaving the\nharbour. When they entered the streets all the world was asleep, and\nthey passed through the town unnoticed. Beside the quay a forest of\nmasts stood dark against the sky, and here the pedlar halted, looking\nabout him. Then he turned and saw the Nix.\n\n\u201cHullo!\u201d he cried roughly. \u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d\n\nBut before he could get nearer she dived into the water. The pedlar\nbegan to shout. In a minute the place was awake, for at the sound of his\nvoice men sleeping in their boats at the quay\u2019s edge leaped ashore to\nsee what was the matter, windows were opened in the houses, and everyone\nwas calling out to know what had happened.\n\nThe Nix looked back and saw the crowd collecting. She swam for the\nharbour\u2019s mouth with all her strength, and she was so afraid that they\nmight put to sea and follow her that by the time the sun rose she was\nmiles out in the clear waters. All was blue around her, sky and wave,\nand the land lay behind, a faint line in the sunshine. The great ocean\nwas as calm as her own pool by the mill and her heart sang as she went\nout farther and farther. It seemed to her that the voice\u2019s of the\nmermaids the pedlar had sung about were resounding from all the caves on\nthese haunted shores. She had never been so happy.\n\nShe went on and on. Time and space and distance were as nothing;\neverything was falling from her but the sense of a great joy.\n\nFar in the distance something was steering fast to meet her, making\nwhite splashes on the blue expanse, and soon she could see a face and\nbrown arms rising above the surface. A great sea-kelpie was coming\ntowards her, the seaweed trailing from his hair and his shoulders\nbreasting the water. As they met he held out his hand.\n\nShe put hers into it. Then they swam out till the coast was no more, and\nthe remembrance of the world of men was no more, and disappeared\ntogether into the mists of the North.\n\n                 *        *        *        *        *\n\nThe miller ceased, and little Peter sat spellbound for a while, for he\nhad forgotten everything but the adventures of the Water-Nix.\n\n\u201cAnd what happened to her?\u201d he said at last.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t tell you any more,\u201d replied the miller; \u201cand how grandmother\nknew as much as that I don\u2019t know, though, to be sure, she understood\nmore than most people about everything.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe kelpie would take care that she came to no harm,\u201d said Janet.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re right there,\u201d said the miller. \u201cI make no doubt but they\u2019re\nliving happily among the sea-caves hundreds of miles away.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the man with the untidy hair\u2014you haven\u2019t told what happened to\nhim,\u201d said the little boy.\n\n\u201cAh yes, there\u2019s more to be said about him,\u201d answered the miller. \u201cHe\nwrote his poem, and it made him rich. There was so much Latin in it that\npeople thought it wonderful. That brought him in a heap of money. He\nmarried and had a large family, and one of his daughters was my\ngrandmother. She was a fine girl, and it seemed to him a bad come-down\nin life when she married the miller and came to live here. But they were\nvery happy, for all that, and it was from the miller\u2019s man she heard the\nstory of the Water-Nix.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it because your great-grandfather was a poet that you can tell\nstories so well?\u201d asked Janet, with some awe.\n\n\u201cWell, it might be,\u201d said the miller. \u201cAnyhow, it\u2019s a fine notion. I\nnever thought of it before.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                     THE KING OF GROWGLAND\u2019S CROWN\n\n\nIt was almost a week before the brother and sister saw the miller again,\nbut one evening as Janet was coming down the road he jumped over the\nwall from the mill-field.\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the little boy?\u201d he asked. \u201cI hope your grandmother has not\nbeen bad to him again.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Janet, \u201cshe\u2019s very cross, but she hasn\u2019t beaten him for more\nthan a week.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou go and fetch him,\u201d said he. \u201cI have been looking for the book I\ntold you about\u2014grandmother\u2019s story-book. I\u2019m not busy to-night, and we\ncan sit in the field, and I\u2019ll read him a story.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow lovely!\u201d cried Janet. \u201cI\u2019ll run and bring him at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and mind _you_ come back, too,\u201d called the miller after her.\n\nIn a few minutes she returned, with Peter jumping and clapping his hands\nbeside her, and when they had found a nice place, they sat down to read.\n\nThey sat on the roots of a tree by the mill-lead, with the water\nbabbling at their feet. The book was old and tattered, and,\nunfortunately, there were no pictures in it, but they did not mind that.\nThey could see just as good pictures for themselves, in their own minds\u2019\neyes.\n\n\u201cI will read you a story about three brothers,\u201d said the miller to\nPeter; \u201cand there\u2019s a magpie in it, too, and a pretty young woman like\nyour sister.\u201d\n\nAnd he opened his book and began:\n\nThere was once upon a time a widow who had three sons; they were fine,\nstrong young men, and the two elder thought themselves more than\ncommonly clever. The youngest did not think much about anything but his\nbusiness, which was to keep the sheep, look after the horses, and supply\nthe pot with the game he brought home. He was a hard worker, and when he\nlay down at night, he was glad enough to sleep, though the others would\nusually sit up scheming how they might grow rich. He thought them rather\ngrand fellows, all the same, and quite expected they would do something\nwonderful.\n\nOne day the widow called them all and told them it was high time they\nsaw something of the world. \u201cTo-morrow morning you shall all be off\nround it,\u201d she said to the eldest. \u201cYou must start facing east, your\nnext brother facing west, and when you meet in the middle at the other\nside you can compare all you have learned. As for you,\u201d she went on,\nturning to the youngest, \u201cyou shall start southward, and no doubt will\nbe in time to fall in with them and profit by their knowledge.\u201d She also\nhad a great opinion of her elder sons.\n\nSo off they went, and when they had gone half round the world, the two\nelder brothers came face to face at the other side in a sandy hollow.\nThey sat down and began to talk.\n\n\u201cWell, brother, and what have you done?\u201d asked the second.\n\n\u201c_Done!_\u201d exclaimed the first brother; \u201cwhat do you mean? I haven\u2019t made\na penny or seen anybody I think as well of as myself. There is nothing\nto be got by giving oneself all this trouble. The world is an overrated\nplace, I can tell you. What have _you_ got out of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing,\u201d said the second; \u201cand I agree heartily with every word you\nhave said.\u201d\n\nAt this moment they looked up and saw the third brother coming over a\nhillock. He did not look much more prosperous than themselves.\n\n\u201cWe won\u2019t tell him,\u201d they said; \u201cwe will pretend we have done wonders\nand made our mark, and then we\u2019ll get a pretext to be rid of him before\nhe finds out the truth. It would never do for him to lose his respect\nfor us.\u201d\n\n\u201cHi!\u201d cried the youngest brother, \u201cthis is luck indeed!\u201d And when he had\ngreeted them he sat down beside them in the sand.\n\n\u201cHullo! how are you?\u201d said the eldest.\n\n\u201cOh, well enough,\u201d replied he.\n\n\u201cAnd how have you got on, and how much money have you made?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no money,\u201d replied the young man, \u201cbut I think I have picked up a\nlittle experience.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh!\u201d cried the others in a breath. \u201cThat\u2019s all very well, but it\nisn\u2019t good enough for _us_.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you rich, then?\u201d asked the youngest.\n\n\u201cRich?\u201d cried the eldest, \u201cdid you say rich? I am rolling in gold. I\nhave a great shop in which the merchandise of four kingdoms changes\nhands, and my counting-house is so fine that two Emperors drove up last\nSunday and asked if they might be allowed to go over it. I said yes, of\ncourse. There was a Bishop in the carriage, too.\u201d\n\nThe youngest brother\u2019s eyes grew round. \u201cWell, that\u2019s grand indeed,\u201d he\nsaid.\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d broke in the middle brother\u2014\u201cI have no taste for buying and\nselling; in fact, I think it rather low. But a lady fell in love with\nme, so I married her. She inherited money from a Duke, who is her uncle,\nand she asks nothing better than I should spend it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, well!\u201d exclaimed the youngest.\n\nThen he looked curiously at his companions. \u201cAnd how is it,\u201d said he,\n\u201cthat such great people as you have come here on foot? I should have\nimagined you would have arrived on horseback or in carriages.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, we live so close by that it was not worth while disturbing the\nservants,\u201d they replied quickly.\n\n\u201cThen you live in the nearest town and in the same house?\u201d continued he.\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d answered the second. \u201cMy wife cherishes me so that she\ninsisted upon my brother living with us, for fear I should feel\nhomesick. It was very good of her, but what an idea to be homesick for\nsuch a hole as our mother\u2019s farm, when I live in the finest house in the\nmarket-square!\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, brothers,\u201d said the youngest, \u201cI think all this is capital, and\nso much so that I shall certainly go back with you at once. I will start\nfor home early to-morrow, but you shall give me a lodging for the night,\nand I promise you that I shall rejoice at the sight of your prosperity.\nI have slept under the stars every night since I began journeying, and a\ngood soft bed will be a treat to me. Besides which, I shall see my\nsister-in-law and be able to tell mother all about her.\u201d\n\nAt this the elder men\u2019s faces fell, but there was nothing for it but to\ngo back by the way they had come to the nearest town. However, their\nbrother walked behind as they went, so they had time to invent a way out\nof their difficulties. When they reached their destination, they paused\nat the town gate, telling him to stay where he was while they went to\nprepare for his coming.\n\n\u201cAll right, then,\u201d said he, \u201cbut in five minutes I shall follow.\u201d\n\nThey could not help smiling at his innocence, for they intended to\nescape as quickly as they could.\n\n\u201cHow are you going to find the way?\u201d they inquired.\n\n\u201cWhy, haven\u2019t you been telling me that you live in the finest house in\nthe market-square? I shall soon find that.\u201d\n\nThis was rather a blow to the others, for they knew that he was swift of\nfoot and that they would not get far in five minutes.\n\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter,\u201d whispered the middle brother; \u201cI know a fine trick.\nWe will have dinner and a night\u2019s lodging at his expense, and in the\nmorning we will be off before he is awake, and leave him to pay the\nreckoning. Come, look sharp, or he will be after us.\u201d\n\nWith that they ran to a large, handsome inn which stood in the middle of\nthe market-square. It had a tower on it, and an entrance good enough for\nan Alderman\u2019s family.\n\n\u201cLandlord,\u201d said the middle brother, \u201cI am a gentleman from a distance,\nand in a most unexpected dilemma. Help me out of it, and I can assure\nyou you shall profit. A great lord, finding that I am in the town, has\nsent me a message. You must know that he is under heavy obligations to\nme, and has sworn that on the day I am married he will give me a\nthousand crowns as a wedding gift. Now, I am not married at all; but if\nhe arrives and can be made to believe I have a wife, he will immediately\nredeem his word. My plan is simply this: I shall entertain him well at\nyour inn, and, if you have a daughter\u2014or even a decent-looking\nserving-maid\u2014who will sit at the head of the table during dinner and\nact as though she were mistress of the house, I will divide the sum with\nyou the moment I receive it. Should he go back from his word, there will\nbe no harm done, and I will pay you liberally for your hospitality. I\nwill give the girl a new gown, too, as a remembrance of her assistance.\u201d\n\nNow, the landlord was the first rogue in the kingdom, and the scheme so\npleased him that he nearly died of laughter.\n\n\u201cYou are a sharp one!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cWhy, I have a daughter clever\nenough to act any part in the world, and she shall do her best, you may\nbe sure. Come, I will get ready a good dinner and take down the\nsignboard, so that the place shall appear as a private house.\u201d\n\nBy the time he had done this and acquainted the girl with the plan, a\nloud thumping was heard at the door, and the third brother stood\noutside.\n\nNow, the landlord\u2019s girl was goddaughter to a witch, and very beautiful;\nshe had also learned some useful things from her godmother, who had\nbrought her up till she was sixteen and obliged to return and help her\nfather with his inn. So, when the plot was explained, she said: \u201cI hope\nno harm will come of it,\u201d and before getting ready to preside at the\ntable, she took a good look at the two men.\n\n\u201cThey have rascals\u2019 faces,\u201d she said to herself.\n\nShe then ran to a top window, and looked out to see what sort of a\nperson the great lord who was coming to dinner might be.\n\nIt chanced that, as she leaned out, the third brother glanced up.\n\n\u201cIf that is my brother\u2019s wife,\u201d said he, \u201cshe is indeed a beauty!\u201d And\nhe sighed, wishing that such luck had come his way.\n\nWhen the girl saw his face, she thought:\n\n\u201cThat is no great lord, but he is a handsome fellow, for all that. I\nwill see, at least, that he gets the best of everything in the house.\u201d\n\nSo when the table was spread, and before the three brothers came into\nthe dining-room, the girl said to the magpie that hung in a cage behind\nthe window-curtain:\n\n\u201cTake notice of every word that is said to-night, and repeat it to me,\nor I will wring your neck!\u201d\n\nThe magpie promised, and she went forward to receive the guest.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d said the second brother, \u201cis madam, my wife.\u201d\n\nWith that the youngest brother kissed his sister-in-law heartily.\n\n\u201cI knew he was no fool,\u201d said the girl to herself.\n\nAs dinner progressed she made herself so pleasant that the room rang\nwith joy and merriment, and she pressed all the most delicate dishes on\nthe youngest brother; nor did she fail to notice that whenever he\naddressed either of his companions as \u2018brother,\u2019 which he did\nfrequently, the two exchanged covert glances of annoyance.\n\n\u201cAll is not right here,\u201d she exclaimed under her breath, \u201cfor, were he\nthe great lord they say, there are no two men alive who would more\nwillingly call him a relation!\u201d And she smiled rather slyly.\n\n\u201cWhy do you smile, wife?\u201d asked the second brother.\n\n\u201cMy love,\u201d replied she, \u201cat finding so great a personage a member of\nyour family.\u201d\n\nNo one knew what to say, for the youngest brother feared she was\nlaughing at them all, and the two elder were sure of it.\n\nHowever, time flew, the wine sparkled, the hot roast dishes smoked, and\nit was hard to say which of the four was in the best humour.\n\nWhen the feast was done the girl got up, and, taking a silver\ncandlestick from the table, said:\n\n\u201cHusband, I see that our guest is weary with travelling and his eyes\nheavy with sleep. I myself will show him the guest-chamber, and assure\nmyself that the servants have made his bed well.\u201d\n\nSo saying, she led the youngest brother to the room prepared for him,\nwalking before him with the lights. As he went he could not cease\nadmiring the fine plaits of dark hair which hung down her back and\nregretting that the evening was over and he would be so soon deprived of\nher company.\n\nWhen they got to the bedchamber, she made every pretext to remain away\nfrom the dining-room as long as possible, smoothing the pillows and\ndrawing the window-curtains close, that the starlight might not disturb\nhis sleep. When she had bidden him good-night, she went downstairs as\nslowly as she could.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cTHEN THE BIRD TOLD HER THE WHOLE PLOT.\u201d]\n\n\u201cI had no notion it was so late!\u201d she exclaimed as she entered. \u201cNow\nthat my part is done, I may tell you two gentlemen that the longer you\nsit here burning our oil and occupying our best room, the more you will\nbe charged for it. Now, tell me if you are satisfied with my\nperformance, and then take my advice and go to bed for the sake of your\npockets. There is a good room ready for you upstairs.\u201d\n\nThe brothers congratulated her on the way she had played her part, and\nwent off. Nothing could have suited them better, for they meant to slip\nout of the house and be gone long before dawn broke.\n\nWhen the girl had showed them the way, she ran downstairs to the\nmagpie\u2019s cage.\n\n\u201cQuick, quick!\u201d she cried, \u201ctell me everything those knaves said to each\nother while I was taking the stranger to the guest-chamber.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, mistress,\u201d exclaimed he, \u201cwe have indeed dined in evil company!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have not dined at all,\u201d she said, \u201cand never shall if I hear not\nevery word of their talk.\u201d\n\nThen the bird told her the whole plot, for the brothers had discussed it\nopenly in her absence. \u201cBesides all this,\u201d he concluded, \u201cthey mean to\nrun away in the night and leave the young man to pay the reckoning.\u201d\n\nAt this the girl ran straight upstairs and locked the two brothers in;\nshe took off her shoes and turned the key so softly that they heard\nnothing. Afterwards she slipped out into the yard, and, taking a harrow\nwhich lay in the outhouse, drew it under their window and turned it with\nthe spikes uppermost, to deter them from jumping out. She then knocked\nat the door of the guest-chamber.\n\n\u201cCome out!\u201d she cried through the keyhole; \u201cthere is knavery afoot!\u201d\n\nWhen the youngest brother opened the door she told him all, and when he\nhad hurried on a few clothes he came down to the dining-room to hear\nwhat the magpie had discovered.\n\n\u201cI shall be out of this as quick as I can,\u201d he remarked when the bird\nhad finished. \u201cMy only grief is that I shall never see you again. I am\nreally very glad you are not my brother\u2019s wife, for I had much rather\nyou were mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo had I,\u201d said the girl.\n\nSo they determined to depart together.\n\n\u201cYou are never going to leave me behind!\u201d exclaimed the magpie.\n\n\u201cWell, then, come along,\u201d said the young man, opening the cage door.\n\u201cWhen you are tired of flying you can have a lift on my shoulder; I am\nnot going to let my wife trouble herself with your cage.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not your wife yet,\u201d said the girl, tossing her head.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s easily mended,\u201d replied the youngest brother.\n\nSo they crept softly out of the inn and took the road long before the\nsky showed signs of morning. But at last the east grew grey in the\ndarkness and bars of rose-colour hung over the sea of primrose and gold\nfrom which the sun was about to rise. They sat down beside a stream to\nrest, for they had come a good long distance.\n\n\u201cFly into the nearest tree,\u201d said the youngest brother to the magpie,\n\u201cand wait till the risen sun shows you the nearest steeple. Where there\nis a church there will be a priest, so, when you have directed us to it,\nyou can go there yourself and rouse him. We will follow and wait in the\nchurch porch till you bring him to marry us.\u201d\n\nAs soon as it was fully light the bird obeyed, and having lit on a\nchurch steeple, he called to a man in the road below to direct him to\nthe priest\u2019s house.\n\nThe priest was just getting out of bed, but he ordered the magpie to be\nadmitted. When he had heard his request he promised to set out with his\nprayer-book as soon as he had eaten his breakfast, and the bird, after\nthanking him courteously, flew off again to the church. \u201cI forgot to ask\nwho you are,\u201d called the priest after him, with his mouth full.\n\n\u201cI am a near relation of the bride\u2019s,\u201d said the magpie as he sailed\naway.\n\nBy the time the engaged couple reached the porch they found the holy man\nawaiting them, and were immediately married. The magpie gave the bride\naway and offered some advice upon the married state, for he was a\nwidower and knew what he was talking about. \u201cNow go,\u201d he said, \u201cand I\nwill return to the steeple, where I shall find snug enough quarters.\nThree is an ill number for a honeymoon.\u201d\n\nSo the husband and wife went to the village and found a suitable\nlodging; they meant to stay there for the next few days, till they\nshould decide where they should live.\n\nAs the sun set that evening the magpie sat on the steeple meditating on\nlife. The bright glow struck through the ivy-leaves, and he was much\nastonished at seeing something glittering so brightly in the light that\nhe was almost dazzled. The shine came from behind a great tangle of\nfoliage which clothed the tower. He hopped down and thrust his beak in\namong the ivy. There, in a hole scooped carefully among the stones, was\na heap of jewels such as he had never seen in all his days. There were\nropes of pearls, chains of diamonds and rubies, and emeralds in heaps.\nIt was with difficulty that he could resist screaming aloud, so great\nwas his astonishment, and he was all the more shocked when he reflected\nthat this cunningly-made storehouse of wealth must be the handiwork of\nrobbers.\n\n\u201cI fear that the world is a terribly wicked place,\u201d he observed; \u201cI must\nlook into this. I will remain here till night and see what roguery is\ngoing on.\u201d\n\nSo when night was come he concealed himself with great caution in a\nniche. When midnight had struck and the moon\u2014now at her full\u2014blackened\nthe shadows, he heard a rustling below and saw the head of a man\nappearing above the belfry stair. He was a wicked-looking ruffian and\nwas followed by another who held something hidden under his cloak. The\nmagpie poked his head round the corner of his niche. The two thieves\nwent straight to the hole behind the ivy, and, having looked in at their\nstolen wealth, sat down on the church roof.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said the one who had come up first, \u201cwhat is this great\ntreasure that you have taken?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may well ask,\u201d replied the other, \u201cfor it is no less than the King\nof Growgland\u2019s crown. Here\u2014you may try it on if you like.\u201d\n\nAnd he pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth. His companion snatched it,\nand, when he had untied the knots, there came out such a blaze in the\nmoonlight that the magpie was almost blinded.\n\nThe crown glowed and shone. It had spikes of gold with knobs of rubies\non the top, and pearls as big as marrowfat peas were studded round the\ncirclet. In front was a fan-shaped ornament half a foot high and one\nmass of emeralds and diamonds. The thief set it on his own knavish head\nand turned round and round that his friend might admire his appearance.\n\n\u201cThere now, stop that,\u201d said the other at last; \u201cI have had enough of\nyour masquerading. Not even a crown can make you like a gentleman.\u201d And\nhe whipped it off and thrust it into the hole. Then he drew the ivy\nacross it, and, after a few more rough words, the robbers disappeared as\nthey had come.\n\nWhen morning dawned the magpie flew to the house where the youngest\nbrother was lodging with his bride. He pecked the window with his beak\nand cried to the young man, \u201cHere is great news! Follow my advice, and\nyou will find your fortune made. Now tell your wife to go to the town\nand buy a piece of fine silk to make a bag. While she is doing this you\nmust procure a hammer, a piece of pointed iron and a yard of string; you\ncan get a pickaxe and shovel from the shed where the sexton keeps his\ntools. All these you must hide in a bush which I shall show you in the\nchurchyard. Ask no questions; and, when evening falls, meet me with the\nbag and all these things behind the church.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he flew away.\n\nNow, the girl knew very well that the magpie was no ordinary bird, and\nshe obeyed him carefully; she rose and went into the town and bought a\npiece of red silk. Having made the bag, she gave it to her husband, and,\nat the time appointed, he met the magpie behind the church with all the\nimplements he had got together.\n\nThe bird directed him to leave the pickaxe and shovel in the porch, and\nthey went up to the roof by the belfry stair. When the youngest brother\nsaw the treasure he was speechless, but the magpie gave him no time to\nexamine the jewels.\n\n\u201cListen to me,\u201d he said, \u201cand we are rich for ever. (I say \u2018we\u2019 because\nI feel you will not forget my poor services.) Do you see an iron bar\nthat sticks out into space on the side of that flying buttress? It is\nplaced there to hold a swinging lamp, and there are five steps by which\nthe sexton approaches it to hang up the light. As you see, they also\nstand out into space. Tie this piece of string round my leg, and, when I\nhave flown up and alighted on the iron bar, twist the other end round\nit, so that I may seem to be fastened to it as to a perch; but do not\nknot it, or make it really secure. To do this you must reach the bar by\nthese steps.\u201d\n\nWhen the young man heard this, his flesh crept, for he was not\naccustomed to high places and, the steps being on the outer wall, the\nleast giddiness might plunge him headlong into the churchyard, fifty\nfeet below; but, being a manful fellow, he climbed up and twisted the\nstring so neatly round the bar that no one could have supposed the\nmagpie to be anything but a prisoner.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the bird, \u201ctake your hammer and the piece of iron and loosen\nthe three top steps till they will not bear more than a child\u2019s weight.\u201d\n\nWhen the youngest brother had done this, the magpie told him to hide\nhimself in a ditch in the churchyard, and not to come out till he was\ncalled by name.\n\nAfter midnight the robbers came to look at their treasures, and did not\nnotice the magpie sitting on the bar. Indeed, had they done so, they\nwould have paid little heed, supposing him to be some ignorant bird who\nhad no interests beyond his own food. They sat down on the roof as they\nhad done before, and, taking out the jewels, began to count them. They\nmade a large heap and placed the crown on the top. All at once the\nmagpie flew up in the air as far as the string would permit, and cried\nin a loud and dreadful voice, \u201c_Help! help! The King of Growgland\u2019s\ncrown is stolen!_\u201d\n\nAt this the thieves were so much horrified that they dropped their\nbooty, and ran wildly to and fro on the roof searching for some hidden\nperson, and, when they came close to the place where the iron bar was,\nthe magpie flew up again, crying the same words more terribly than\nbefore.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll soon choke his noise,\u201d exclaimed the robbers; and with one accord\nthey began to climb the steps. But the youngest brother had done his\nwork well: the stones were loose, and in another moment they had fallen\nheadlong through the air, and were lying with their necks broken in the\nchurchyard.\n\nThe magpie then called his friend, who brought the pickaxe and shovel,\nand when they had buried the two robbers they went up again to the roof,\nand put the King of Growgland\u2019s crown into the red silk bag.\n\n\u201cWe know who this belongs to, and we will certainly restore it,\u201d said\nthe magpie; \u201cthe rest we will keep as some slight remuneration for our\ntrouble.\u201d\n\nThere were enough jewels to make fifty people rich for life. It _was_ a\nhaul! The youngest brother praised the magpie, and, taking off his\nshirt, knotted the tails together and filled it up to the neck with\nprecious stones. It was almost light before he got back to his wife and\nshowed her what the magpie\u2019s good sense had accomplished.\n\nIn a few days the magpie set out for the kingdom of Growgland, scarcely\nmore than a hundred miles away, and demanded to see the King. He found\nthe whole city in a ferment and everyone distracted. The King had grown\nquite thin, and the head of the police had been sent to prison for being\nunable to find the thieves.\n\n\u201cIf your Majesty will start the day after to-morrow,\u201d said the magpie,\n\u201cand go a day\u2019s journey from the city, you will meet a young man and a\ngirl on horseback carrying a red silk bag. Your Majesty may wring my\nneck if it does not contain the crown of Growgland.\u201d\n\nAt this everyone was electrified, and the King, with a great retinue,\nstarted and encamped a day\u2019s march off, that the crown of Growgland\nmight be received with all due ceremony. As evening came on the magpie\ngrew a little nervous, for the King had placed a guard over him to do\nhim honour (at least, that was what he said); but the bird knew very\nwell that it was done so that he should not escape if the crown failed\nto appear. But at last he saw his friends approaching. Being now rich,\nthey rode fine horses and were dressed as befitted great personages. The\nKing sat on the royal throne (which was a folding one, and so had been\nbrought with him), and the youngest brother, having related his story,\ngave the red silk bag into his hands. Before parting with him His\nMajesty presented him with a sum of money that, even had he not been\nrolling in wealth already, would have made him independent for life.\n\nAfter this, the magpie and his friends set out for the town in which\nthey had left the two elder brothers and a few days later dismounted\nbefore the inn. The harrow was still in its place, prongs uppermost, and\nat the window, far above it, two forlorn-looking faces were to be seen.\n\nThe landlord came out, transported with surprise at the fine appearance\nof his daughter and the youngest brother.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d he said, pointing to the upper window, \u201care the two knaves who\nhave deceived me, and whom I have kept locked up ever since you left.\u201d\n\nAt this the imprisoned pair perceived who it was that had arrived.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d they shouted, \u201chere is the great lord come to pay our debts! Did\nwe not assure you that he would come?\u201d\n\nAnd they rained abuse upon the landlord.\n\n\u201cLet them out and I will make it good to you,\u201d said the youngest\nbrother.\n\nSo the two miscreants were freed, and a sorry sight they were; for, as\nthe price of each day of their detainment the landlord had demanded a\ngarment, and their clothes were almost at an end. One had only a shirt\nleft; and the other one garter and a piece of an old tablecloth in which\nhe had wrapped himself for decency. The inn servants shouted with\nlaughter as they came running out. The youngest brother and his wife\nlaughed too; and as for the magpie, he was so delighted that he nearly\nchoked, and had to be restored with strong waters.\n\n\u201cI still prefer my experience to your money,\u201d remarked the youngest\nbrother to his relations.\n\n\n\n\n                       THE STORY OF MASTER BOGEY\n\n\n\u201cThis time it will have to be a tale I remember hearing grandmother\ntell,\u201d said the miller one evening, \u201cfor I\u2019ve left my book in the town.\nThe cover was so battered that it had to be mended.\u201d\n\nThey were sitting on the steps of the mill. Every week now, and\nsometimes twice between Sunday and Sunday, they spent a delightful time\nwith their friend. Little Peter thought he was the finest man in the\nworld; and Janet, though she said little, was quite sure there was no\none like him. And, indeed, they were not far wrong, for he was the most\nsplendid miller that anybody ever saw; he was like a big boy at heart,\nthough he was a grown-up man with a mill of his own and a horse and cart\nin the stable.\n\nThere was once a square house (he began) that stood in a garden. Outside\nthe garden were great trees which had been there for more than a hundred\nyears, and when the wind blew high and the gales raged in the autumn,\nthey swayed about and creaked so that anyone might think they must fall\nand crush everything near them; but they never did. Up in the top story\nof the house was a row of windows belonging to the rooms where the\nchildren lived, and, as the blinds were often left up, you might see the\nlights inside and the shadows of the nurse and the little girls moving\nabout.\n\nNow, high up in the highest tree visible from the nursery lived a family\nof Bogeys. They were very nice people. There was Father Bogey and Madam\nBogey and young Master Bogey, their son.\n\nThe children had no idea that they lived there, for they never showed\nthemselves, but lurked hidden in the dark shadows of the boughs. When\nthe wind blew they swayed hither and thither with the branches, and when\nthe nursery blinds were up and the firelight shone behind them, Master\nBogey, who was inquisitive, would sit staring and trying to make out\nwhat was going on in the room.\n\n\u201cHow I should love to get in and see what it is like!\u201d he would say to\nhis parents.\n\nAnd Madam Bogey would answer: \u201cNonsense! Your father and I have lived\nhere for ages, and have never tried to get in. We know very well what is\nour business and what is not. You can see the little girls every morning\nas they come down the avenue with their nurse, and you know that their\nnames are Josephine, Julia and Jane. What more can you want?\u201d\n\nAnd Master Bogey would say no more. But that did not prevent him from\nbeing as inquisitive as ever.\n\nEvery day as the little girls came out for their walk he would peer down\non them, unseen. Each had her doll in her arms, and the two elder ones\nwould talk to theirs and carry them as carefully as though they were\nbabies. But Jane was always scolding hers; once, even, she threw the\npoor thing roughly on the ground. She did not suspect for a moment that\nMaster Bogey was looking down at her, horrified.\n\nAt last, one night in winter, his curiosity grew more than he could\nbear; for he had not heard the front door bolted nor the key turned, and\nhe knew that he might never have such a chance of getting into the house\nagain. The snow lay deep, and his parents were snoring in the fork of\nthe branches in which the family spent the winter months. Overhead, the\nstars were clear and trembling in the frost and the nursery firelight\nshone red through the curtains. He slid down, ran across the white\nground and up the front-door steps. Yes, the handle went round in his\ngrasp, and in another moment he was standing in the hall.\n\nIt was easy to see that the servants had been careless that night; not\nonly was the door unlocked, but the lamps were left burning too. As\nMaster Bogey paused at the foot of the wooden staircase, it was all he\ncould do not to turn and run, for the wall beside it was hung with\nfamily portraits of fierce gentlemen and bedizened ladies who stared at\nhim dreadfully. But he was a sensible fellow, and, as most of them were\nhalf-length pictures, he decided that people who had no legs couldn\u2019t\nrun after him. He ventured to touch one, and, finding it wasn\u2019t a living\nthing at all, he grew as bold as brass and began to look about him.\nChristmas was not long over; the yew and the holly were still wreathed\nabove the frames, making him wonder how these little pieces of trees\ncould have got inside the house. There were swords and spears and old\nfire-arms too, whose use he could not understand. Up he went softly,\nnearly jumping out of his skin when a step creaked under his foot, and\nhe found himself at last on the nursery threshold. The door was ajar and\nthe firelight bright in the empty room, so in he went.\n\nBut suddenly he gave a most terrible start, for the room was not empty\nat all; three dolls were sitting on three chairs, watching him intently,\nand two of them were looking very severe.\n\n\u201cMay I ask, sir, who you are?\u201d demanded the one nearest to the hearth.\n\nMaster Bogey was speechless. He turned to run away.\n\n\u201cStop, sir!\u201d cried the doll again, \u201cand be good enough to answer me, or\nI will alarm the house. Who are you? I insist upon knowing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Master Bogey,\u201d he stammered.\n\n\u201cLa! what a name!\u201d exclaimed the doll upon the next chair. And she held\nup her fine satin muff and giggled behind it.\n\n\u201cYes, and what a shock of hair!\u201d said the other. She held up her muff\nand giggled too.\n\nPoor Master Bogey was ready to cry.\n\nThe two dolls who had spoken were almost exactly alike: they had round\npink faces and round blue eyes; on either side of their cheeks hung\nbeautiful golden curls\u2014no wonder they laughed at the black mop on his\ndusky head. They really were the most elegant ladies. They wore frilled\nsilk pelisses, with handsome ruffles at the neck; large silk hats, tied\nunder their chins with bows, and enormous sashes. On their feet were\nopenwork socks and bronze shoes with rosettes; their muffs we know all\nabout. The only difference between them was that one was dressed in blue\nand the other in pink. Their mouths were like rosy buttons; to look at\nthem, who could guess that such rude words had ever come out of them?\n(My grandmother always used to make that remark, for she had a good\nbringing-up and knew manners.)\n\nThe third doll was not nearly so fine as her companions. To begin with,\nshe had no muff, and her sash was tied round her waist, and not halfway\ndown her skirt, which showed at once she was out of the fashions in the\ndoll world. Her frock was plain and torn and she had lost one shoe; all\nthe same, she had a dear little face. When she saw poor Master Bogey\u2019s\ndowncast looks, she got off her chair and went to him.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t mind what they say,\u201d she said. \u201cThey have just got new dresses\nand it makes them proud. They mean no harm. Your hair is very nice, and\nit is a great blessing to have so much.\u201d\n\nYou may fancy how grateful Master Bogey was!\n\nShe held out her hand, and he took it.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d she said, \u201clet us go and sit at the other end of the room. You\nare a stranger, and I have heard nurse say that one should always be\npolite to strangers.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT.\u201d]\n\nSo they went, and the ladies in blue and pink cried out \u201cPooh!\u201d very\nloud and both at the same time.\n\n\u201cTake no notice,\u201d whispered the doll.\n\nIt was not long before she persuaded Master Bogey to confess his\ncuriosity about the house and the people in it, and he began to enjoy\nhimself immensely. He heard all about the pictures that had astonished\nhim so much, and how the holly and yew branches had managed to get on to\nthe frames, and about the Christmas party which was just over. He saw\nthe rocking-horse, and even had a ride on it; the cupboard where nurse\nkept the jams for tea, and the door which led to the attics overhead.\nBut the most delightful part of all was when he led his companion to the\nwindow and showed her the tree in which he lived standing black in the\nwhiteness and the starlight.\n\n\u201cYou can\u2019t see my parents, for they are asleep,\u201d he remarked; \u201cbut I\n_think_ that round sort of bump where the branches fork is the back of\nmy mother\u2019s head. I wish you could see all of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes she know where you are?\u201d asked the doll.\n\n\u201cWell, no,\u201d replied he, \u201cshe doesn\u2019t; she had gone to bed when I left,\nand I really couldn\u2019t wake her. But I\u2019ll tell her everything in the\nmorning, and all about you, and how charming you are.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid she\u2019ll punish you,\u201d said the doll, sighing. \u201cI only hope she\nwon\u2019t throw you out of the tree.\u201d\n\n\u201cGracious!\u201d cried Master Bogey, \u201cwhat an idea! Why, my mother is the\nbest mother in the world! I know what put that into your head, all the\nsame. I saw one of the little girls throw her doll on the ground once,\nwhen I was looking down from the branches. It wasn\u2019t you, I trust?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed it was,\u201d said she; \u201cthat was Miss Jane, and I am her doll. I am\nvery unhappy, for she is dreadfully cruel to me. Sometimes she bangs me\non the floor and puts me in the corner for hours. And look at my\nclothes! The others are lucky\u2014they belong to Josephine and Julia. They\nhave each got a new dress, but this ragged one is all I have, and only\none shoe.\u201d\n\nThe tears ran down her face, poor little thing!\n\n\u201cShow me Miss Jane, and I will go and kill her!\u201d cried Master Bogey, in\na rage.\n\n\u201cOh no, no!\u201d begged the doll. \u201cIf you did that, I might be thrown away.\nNo one would care to keep a shabby thing like me. I might be flung into\nthe ashpit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI would soon go and fetch you if you were,\u201d said Master Bogey\ngallantly. \u201cBut show me Jane; if I could even shake my fist at her I\nshould be happier.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you promise not to do any harm if I take you to the\nnight-nursery?\u201d said she.\n\nHe promised, and they went, hand in hand, down the long passage to the\nroom where Josephine, Julia and Jane slept.\n\nThey went in on tiptoe. The sisters were sleeping in a row in their\nlittle white beds with frilled curtains; they really looked very pretty\nwith their hair lying spread upon the pillows.\n\n\u201cThat is Josephine,\u201d said the doll, pointing to the eldest, \u201cand the\nnext is Julia, and the one nearest the door is Jane, my mistress.\u201d\n\nJosephine and Julia were smiling in their sleep, but as they looked,\nJane turned over and tossed, grinding her teeth.\n\n\u201cI am afraid she is having a bad dream,\u201d explained the doll.\n\n\u201cServe her right! I wish she could have two at once!\u201d said Master Bogey.\n\nAt last he thought it was time for him to be getting home, and the doll\nsaid she would go down with him to the hall. He was very sad, for he did\nnot know when he should see her again; and she was sad, too.\n\n\u201cThe very first time they leave the door open I will come back,\u201d said\nhe.\n\n\u201cOh, I hope it will be soon!\u201d she said. \u201cWhenever Jane is bad to me I\nwill think about you, and every night I will look out and try to see\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I will look for you,\u201d replied Master Bogey, as he slipped out of\nthe front door.\n\nNext morning he told Madam Bogey all that he had done, and, though she\nread him a long lecture on curiosity, she could not help being\ninterested.\n\n\u201cA good whipping is what Jane wants,\u201d she remarked, \u201cand if I were her\nnurse she should get it.\u201d\n\nEvery night the doll and Master Bogey looked across the snowy space to\ntry and get a glimpse of each other, but, though he could see her\nagainst the firelight through the windows, she could not see him where\nhe sat in the dim tangle of branches. Madam Bogey watched too, but she\nwas short-sighted and soon gave it up, though her good heart ached to\nthink of the poor little creature and all she had to endure. She and\nMaster Bogey talked about it a great deal.\n\nOne night, as he looked from his tree towards the nursery, he saw Miss\nJane, with one of her sisters, standing by the window-sill. He knew it\nwas Jane, because she was the only one of the little girls who had a\npigtail; he could see its outline as it hung behind her head, with a bow\nsticking out, like a fat insect, at the end of it.\n\nEach had put her doll to stand on the window-sill, inside the pane. He\ncouldn\u2019t tell whether it was the blue or the pink lady who was there,\nbut he saw the shadow of a smart hat. He hoped very much that his friend\nwas looking out for him, and he waved his hand. All at once she slipped\non the sill and fell out of sight! He saw Jane stoop down, her pigtail\nsticking out farther than ever as she did so, and drag her up by the\narm, shaking her\u2014oh, so cruelly! She began to slap her, first on this\nside, then on that; he almost fancied he could hear her crying. Again\nand again she struck her, and Master Bogey shouted and threw up his arms\nin despair. Oh, how hard it was that he could not reach her!\n\n\u201cMother!\u201d he cried. \u201cOh, mother! Look! look!\u201d\n\nUp came Madam Bogey, hurrying to see what was the matter with her son.\nWhen she saw how dreadfully the poor doll was being treated, she was\nalmost as angry as he was; and after Jane and her sister had disappeared\nfrom the window with their dolls, she still sat talking to him. It was\nquite late when he went to bed at last, and she stayed beside him and\nheld his hand. He cried himself to sleep with rage and pity.\n\nNow, Father Bogey had been away for some time on business, and when he\nreturned next day his wife and he had such a long consultation that\nMaster Bogey thought it would never be done. They sent him to a\ndifferent tree while it was going on. He sat there rather crossly,\nlooking at them as they nodded and shook their heads and nodded again.\nHe knew it was all about something very interesting. When they called\nhim back he was quite pettish.\n\n\u201cSit down, boy,\u201d his father began, very solemnly, \u201cand try to look more\nintelligent. When I was your age I was setting up house. As you are an\nonly child I have tried not to spoil you, and I may say that, on the\nwhole, you have been a good son; but now it is time you were settled. I\nhear from your mother that you have made the acquaintance of a young\nlady in the house opposite. From what you have told your mother of her\nmanners, she must be of a good disposition and naturally refined. If you\nhave any mind to marry her she shall have a hearty and fatherly welcome,\nand your mother and I will give up the whole of the top branches to you.\nYou had better think it over.\u201d\n\nMaster Bogey did not take long to do that. He clapped his hands with joy\nwhen he thought that he might see his dear doll again, and never part\nfrom her any more, for he knew that she would be thankful to escape from\ncruel Jane and the rude ladies in blue and pink. The only difficulty\nwas, how was he to get at her?\n\nEvidently the servants had been blamed for their carelessness. Since his\nadventure the front door had been locked and the windows bolted as soon\nas it grew dark. He ran round the house every night, looking eagerly for\nsome chink or crack large enough for him to squeeze himself in through;\nbut there was nothing big enough, for he was a well-grown lad, and as\ntall as his father.\n\nAt last a bold plan came into his mind. He decided to get in in broad\ndaylight, hiding in some empty room till everyone had gone to bed and\nthen making his way to the nursery. As soon as he could persuade his\nlove to elope with him, they would steal downstairs, unlock the front\ndoor, and let themselves out. When he told Madam Bogey of this plan she\nwas in a dreadful state, and said it was much too dangerous; but he was\ndetermined. It is terrible to think what love will do!\n\nSo one afternoon he began to make his way to the house by short stages.\nFrom tree to tree he dodged, and just before dusk he had reached a small\nyew growing in a shrubbery near the front-door steps without being seen\nby anyone. He heard the great bell clang which called servants and\nstablemen to tea; and when he thought they were all safe in the\nservants\u2019 hall, he flew up the steps like a lamplighter, and in at the\ndoor. Opposite to it was a large drawing-room, which the doll had told\nhim was never used in winter, and in he went. There was a sofa there,\nwith a long chintz cover touching the floor; and he crawled under this,\nand lay down as still as a mouse. How his heart beat when a maid came to\ndraw the curtains! How he longed to catch her by the ankle and make her\nscream! But he did nothing so silly; he only lay and longed for the\nnight, when he might get upstairs.\n\nIt was so still that his own footsteps made him jump. It was quite dark,\ntoo, as the lamps were out, and he could only feel his way; but he got\nsafely to the top of the nursery stair, and began tiptoeing up the\npassage. A chink of light under the day-nursery door showed him the fire\nwas still in.\n\nOne thing is certain, and that is that luck favours brave people. Master\nBogey went in, and the first thing he saw was his dear doll at the\nwindow, looking out, no doubt, for a glimpse of himself in the tree. The\npink lady and the blue lady were asleep in their chairs by the hearth,\ntheir eyes shut, their muffs in their laps and their hats tied firmly\nunder their chins.\n\nThe poor doll ran to him and put her arms round his neck. She looked\nvery woebegone and her clothes were more tattered than ever. She had no\nshoes at all now.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve come to take you away,\u201d said Master Bogey. \u201cYou must come back to\nmy tree and we will be married at once, and then I can see you every day\nfor the rest of my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you _really_ mean it?\u201d asked the doll.\n\n\u201cYes, yes!\u201d cried he. \u201cCome at once, this very moment, before anyone\ncatches us. My father and mother are waiting for you, and we are to have\nthe top branches to live in.\u201d\n\nThe poor little thing could hardly believe her ears. She liked Master\nBogey better than anyone she had ever seen, and now she was going away\nfrom cruel Jane, and the blue and pink ladies, who sneered at\neverything. She held his hand tight and they went stealing out. She was\nso happy she did not know what to do.\n\nThey felt their way along safely till they got almost to the hall, and\nthen, alas! alas! Master Bogey missed his footing on the last flight of\nstairs and rolled from the top to the bottom. Bump, bump, he went, and\nlanded in a heap on the mat. He had just time to pick himself up before\na door opened and the mother of Josephine, Julia and Jane came out of\nher bedroom with a candle in her hand. She could not see into the hall,\nbut she began to come downstairs.\n\nMaster Bogey and the doll went straight to a corner where rows of coats\nhung from pegs, and got behind the thickest fur cloak they could find.\nHe took her up in his arms, so that her little white feet should not\nshow underneath it; his own black ones he kept quite still. In the light\nof the candle they only seemed like dark shadows.\n\nThe lady held up her light and looked round. She was much prettier than\nany of her daughters, and though her hair was now in a pigtail like\nJane\u2019s, it really suited her. She peeped under tables and behind chests,\nand then she came to the row of cloaks and began prodding them to see if\nanyone was hidden behind them. It was an awful moment.\n\nWhat saved them was the fact that Bogeys are seldom very tall; though\nyoung Master Bogey was such a fine-grown lad, he was scarcely three feet\nhigh. Jane\u2019s mother prodded the cloak just above his head and passed on\nwithout feeling anything. Just then a man\u2019s face looked over the\nbanisters above.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing there?\u201d cried Josephine, Julia and Jane\u2019s father.\n\n\u201cI thought I heard a noise,\u201d said the lady, \u201cso I came to look.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cyou are always imagining burglars. Go back to\nbed, and don\u2019t be such a goose.\u201d\n\nWhen she had gone, Master Bogey and his love came out of their\nhiding-place. It took but a moment to unlock the door and draw the\nbolts. They shut it softly after them and ran down the steps and out\ninto the shadows, where Father Bogey and Madam were waiting to embrace\ntheir daughter-in-law.\n\nThen they all went up into the tree, where, as I have heard, they lived\nhappily together ever after.\n\n\n\n\n                           THE TREE OF PRIDE\n\n\n\u201cTo-day it\u2019s the book\u2019s turn,\u201d said the miller to his friends as the\nlight was fading one evening. \u201cLast time we heard about Bogeys and\npeople of that sort, but to-day we\u2019ll have a Princess, and King\u2019s Courts\nand fine company.\u201d\n\n\u201cI like hearing about grand ladies,\u201d observed Janet.\n\n\u201cYes, I like them well enough, too,\u201d replied he; \u201cthat is, if they\u2019re as\ngood and as beautiful as some lasses I have seen.\u201d\n\nHe looked rather hard at Janet, and she blushed.\n\n\u201cOh, never mind talking!\u201d broke in little Peter, pulling the miller\u2019s\nsleeve. \u201cIt\u2019s the story I want. If you don\u2019t begin quick the light will\nbe gone; the rooks are coming home already, and soon we shall have to go\nin to supper.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou needn\u2019t do that, for you shall come to supper with me in the mill,\u201d\nsaid the miller. \u201cHow would you like that?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe daren\u2019t,\u201d said Janet.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll go and make it right with your grandmother myself,\u201d he replied.\n\u201cShe\u2019ll be glad enough, maybe, for there\u2019ll be all the more left in the\nlarder to-morrow. Sit still till I come back.\u201d\n\nAnd he jumped over the wall. They watched him pass the pool and\ndisappear into the white cottage.\n\n\u201cOh, how delightful!\u201d shouted little Peter, turning head over heels.\n\nIn a few minutes the miller returned. The old woman had promised\neverything he wanted. It is a funny thing how often young men can manage\nwitches. They all went into the mill.\n\n\u201cSo now to business,\u201d said he, as he sat down and took up his book.\n\nIn a kingdom far from this everyday earth a great city sat royally in\nits surrounding plain. It had domes and towers, temples and fortresses,\nand in it lived a Princess whose goodness and beauty were known for\nmiles round. The plain was vast and fertile, but here and there patches\nof wilderness lay like islands among the crops; and a winding stream\nwandered, now through their richness, now through tangled briars and\nunfrequented tracks.\n\nBy one of these it made a loop, encircling a spot where the turf was\ncleared of undergrowth and a great tree thrust its gnarled roots through\nthe grass. The few who passed this place looked upon it with no little\nawe, for the tree was inhabited, and even on a calm day its boughs might\nbe seen rocking to and fro, as though moved by some unruly breeze. Its\nleaves were large and glossy, its limbs spreading like the limbs of an\noak, and in spring it bore white, waxy flowers, heavily scented and\nshaped like open tulips; in the heart of each was a cluster of stiff\ngolden stamens.\n\nThe upper branches were haunted by an old man whose long robe gave him\nthe appearance of a wizard. Though he had lurked in the tree for\ngenerations, time had not robbed him of his activity, for he would swing\nhimself to earth every morning to drink of the stream, and, in summer,\nto wash the dust from the leaves and blossoms, which he tended as\ncarefully as a gardener might his plants. The dwellers in the city knew\nnothing of his existence; but the dwellers in the fields near the tree\nhad sometimes seen him descend from it to the earth, and remembered\nhaving heard in their childhood that it was called the \u201cTree of Pride.\u201d\n\nOne autumn day all the city was making holiday, for the Princess had\nbeen betrothed to a King from a far country and was starting with a\ngreat following to meet him ten leagues from its walls. Her father\naccompanied her, and she rode on a white horse shod with silver; she was\nso beautiful and charming that there was not a man in the whole retinue\nwho did not envy the unknown King. Her brown hair, looped up behind her\nhead, fell almost to the stirrup, and she wore a coif woven of burning\ngold. Her cloak was embroidered with rose and purple and patterns of\nstars, and its gold fringes swung as she rode. Her eyes were like the\nstill, moon-haunted pools of a moorland.\n\nIt chanced that the procession had been delayed in leaving the city, so\nthat by sunset the place where it was to encamp was yet many miles off.\nThe Princess was tired, and a man-at-arms was sent out to look for some\nspot where the tents might be pitched and water found for the horses. He\nsoon came back to say that within a mile was a stretch of grass\nsurrounding a large tree and watered by a stream. In a short time they\nreached it, and encamped for the night.\n\nNext morning, when they had risen betimes to continue their way, the\nPrincess caught sight of the tree, which was a dream of beauty; for\nautumn was at its full, and the fruit was heavy where the flowers had\nbeen. As she stood to admire it, a rustling was heard in the branches,\nand an old man descended, swinging himself from bough to bough and\nholding a piece of fruit, round and ripe; he leaned down and offered it\nto her.\n\nWhen she had accepted the gift, the Princess mounted, and the whole\ncompany returned to the beaten track and went forward on their road. The\nsun grew hot, and as noonday came on she ate the fruit, thinking that\nshe had never tasted anything so delicious.\n\nThey rode by brook and meadow, by hill and wood, and soon everyone began\nto wonder at the change which had come over the Princess. Those whom she\nhad looked upon as friends all her life were now commanded to rein back,\nthat they might not offend her dignity by their presence. She would\nscarce answer her father when he spoke, and, whereas in the early part\nof her journey she had taken pleasure in the beauty of the landscape,\nshe now blamed the road as unfit for her horse\u2019s feet to tread.\n\n\u201cNot content with dragging me out to meet this sorry fellow,\u201d she said,\n\u201cyou must needs bring me by ways only fit for peasants.\u201d\n\nHer father and his people looked aghast. Never before had they heard her\nspeak in such a manner.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cSHE WOULD SCARCE ANSWER HER FATHER WHEN HE SPOKE.\u201d]\n\nWhen the shadows were long they halted again, and soon they could\ndistinguish a company of horsemen between them and the hills. The\nPrincess withdrew to her tent, for she knew that the distant spearmen\nmust be the unknown King\u2019s following, and that in a short time she would\nbe summoned to receive him. She called her maids, and when they had\ndressed her in her state robes, she took a knife and made a slit in the\ncurtains that she might see the King\u2019s arrival without being seen. As\nshe stood watching the little band advancing, she was surprised to hear\nher father\u2019s voice almost beside the tent. She ran towards the place,\nand, cutting another slit, looked through and saw him in conversation\nwith a man-at-arms, who had just dismounted from the steaming horse he\nheld.\n\nHe was dressed from head to heel in russet leather, and a steel helmet,\nwith spreading steel wings, was on his head. He was tall and brown, and\nhis white teeth gleamed as he smiled. \u201cSire,\u201d he was saying, \u201cI beg you\nto forgive this unceremonious coming. When I saw your tents on the plain\nand knew that the Princess was so near, I could contain myself no longer\nand galloped forward with all speed. I will not dare to enter her\npresence till my people have arrived, and I have cast off the dust of\nthe road. But wait I could not. I hope your Majesty will forgive me.\u201d\n\nAnd so this rash, leather-clad soldier was the King\u2014this careless,\ndusty fellow who was loosening his horse\u2019s girths as any common groom\nmight do! Did he think to thrust himself thus, without ceremony, into\nthe following of a royal Princess?\n\nBehind her curtains she turned away, biting her lips, and she was still\nfrowning when her father entered.\n\n\u201cDaughter,\u201d said he, \u201cthe King is here and I have spoken with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what is he like?\u201d inquired she, her voice cold with scorn.\n\n\u201cHe is the most gallant-looking gentleman that ever I saw,\u201d said the old\nman.\n\nThe Princess turned her back.\n\nAn hour later father and daughter waited to receive their guest in a\nlong tent hung with fine stuffs and wreathed in garlands. The whole of\ntheir retinue stood around, and, at the far end, the Princess sat on a\ncarved chair, her eyes on the ground and her face as pale as ivory,\nnever looking at the opposite door, by which her suitor was to enter.\n\nAt last the hangings were drawn wide and he came in. He still wore his\nrusset brown, but it was now of silver-studded velvet which clung to him\nlike a glove, and as he went forward a murmur of admiration ran through\nthe crowd; for he walked like some kingly animal, and his eyes sparkled\nunder his dark brows. \u201cHere is a King indeed,\u201d whispered the bystanders.\n\nThe Princess scarcely glanced at him. She curtseyed low as he\napproached, but when he would have taken her hand, she drew back, her\nlip curling.\n\n\u201cYour Majesty does me an honour for which I have no desire,\u201d she said;\n\u201cand if I have brought you to the meeting-place only to refuse your\nhand, you will pardon it the more readily as you yourself like ceremony\nso little.\u201d\n\nSo saying, she turned and left everyone standing speechless.\n\nWhen the company had dispersed, the Princess declared that she would set\nout next morning for the city. There was nothing left for the King to do\nbut to depart by the way he had come, and, furious and mortified, he\nreturned to his own camp to throw off his velvet and resume his leather\nand steel; he meant to go at once. His heart was hot within him, for the\none look he had had at the Princess was enough to set it in a flame. She\nwas so beautiful that he had never seen her like, and even through his\nanger there was a sharp stab of regret for what he had lost. Heartless\nas she seemed, and ill as she had treated him, he would have given the\nworld for her. While his men and horses were getting ready, he went out\ninto the night, and turned his steps to a little thicket of birches\nwhich stood with their glimmering stems not far from the camp. The\ndarkness was moist and chill, and some of the Princess\u2019s men had lit a\nfire on the outskirts of the trees, and were sitting round it. He drew\nclose to them under cover of the wood, and saw an old soldier in the\ncentre of the circle who was talking to his companions. \u201cIf I had my\nwill,\u201d he was saying, \u201cI would fell the tree to the ground, and the old\ngoblin should die with it. He should pay for turning the sweetest, most\nbeautiful lady in the world into such a jade! I remember her from the\ntime she was no higher than my sword, and until she tasted that accursed\nfruit there was no creature more beloved in the kingdom\u2014and with\nreason, too. And look at her now!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is all this talk?\u201d asked a new-comer, as he joined the group in\nthe firelight. \u201cNot but what Her Highness has given us enough to talk\nabout for some time to come.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, it is just that,\u201d continued the first speaker; \u201cthere\u2019s the matter\nplain. She has eaten of the Tree of Pride. I saw it myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Tree of Pride?\u201d cried the others\u2014\u201cwhoever heard of that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are young men,\u201d the old soldier went on, \u201cand you were not born, as\nI was, in a hut in these fields, where all the tales of the country\nround were common talk. My home was in sight of the Tree of Pride, where\nwe camped last night, and many\u2019s the time I\u2019ve seen the old man sitting\namong the boughs like an evil bird. Whoever tastes of it, rich or poor,\nman or woman, young or old, becomes mad with vanity and pride. And but\nyesterday the Princess stood under the branches, and the old man reached\ndown and offered her the fruit. She took it, poor lady, and thanked him,\nunderstanding nothing. I\u2019ve more than a mind to turn aside and slay him\non the way back.\u201d\n\nThe King waited to hear no more; he stole through the trees and back to\nhis own camp: he was determined to start at once for the Tree of Pride.\nHe rode all night, taking only a couple of men with him, and in the\nmorning sunlight he saw it raising its heavy head above the plain. He\ndrew up almost under the boughs and dismounted. There, peering down on\nhim, was the wizened face of the old man, smiling elusively as he\nplucked a cluster of fruit and began climbing down to offer it. The King\nwaited until he had reached the lowest arm of the tree, and then,\ninstead of taking the gift, he seized his garment and dragged him to the\nground.\n\nThe old man shrieked and struggled, but the King held him fast, and,\nthrowing him on the grass, stood over him while his two soldiers bound\nhim hand and foot.\n\n\u201cLook!\u201d cried the King, when they had done this, \u201chere is my blade,\nready to plunge into your evil body. Because the Princess ate the fruit\nyou gave her, her whole heart is changed. You have only one chance of\nlife. I will spare it if you tell me the remedy that can turn her into\nher true self.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no remedy,\u201d he said, fixing his malicious eyes on the King.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said the young man, \u201cI will prevent anyone else from sharing the\nPrincess\u2019s fate.\u201d\n\nAnd he raised his arm.\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d screamed the other. \u201cI will tell you everything! Only let me go\nand I will promise never to offer the fruit to anyone again.\u201d\n\n\u201cLie still,\u201d said the King. \u201cYou will tell me the cure before you move\nand then I will cut down the tree. Go to the nearest hut and borrow an\naxe,\u201d he added, turning to one of his men.\n\n\u201cNo! no!\u201d cried the old man again; \u201ccut it down and all will be lost!\nOnly unbind my hands and I vow I will make the mischief right.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will be loosed when you have spoken,\u201d replied the King.\n\n\u201cTell your soldiers to go away,\u201d said the prisoner at last; \u201cfor the\nthing is a secret.\u201d\n\nThe King told his men to raise him, and when they were alone the old man\nbegan.\n\n\u201cYou will need patience,\u201d said he. \u201cThe winter must come and go before\nthe tree whitens again, for it is only the blossom that can cure the\npoison of the fruit. When spring comes you must make a crown of the\nwhite flowers and take it as a gift to the Princess. If you can persuade\nher to wear it\u2014if only for a few moments\u2014her heart will change, and\nshe will once more be the woman she was.\u201d\n\nThe King\u2019s face fell. It was full six months of waiting and it seemed\nlike an eternity.\n\n\u201cNow let me go!\u201d cried the old man again.\n\n\u201cI will unbind you, as I promised,\u201d said the King, \u201cbut from now till\nthe day we return together to pluck the flowers I will not lose sight of\nyou\u2014no, not for an hour\u2014until your words are proven. Come, hold out\nyour hands and feet, and I will cut the cords. Then we will turn our\nfaces to my kingdom.\u201d\n\nAnd the prisoner was mounted and led away between two men-at-arms in the\nKing\u2019s troop.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nWhile these things were happening, the Princess was on the road home.\nHaving arrived, she shut herself up in her rooms and would hardly deign\nto go outside the walls of her garden, or to notice anyone. When her\nfather was with her she treated him as though he were an intruder, and\nthe slightest difference of opinion between them threw her into a fury.\n\nShe would pace up and down the corridor, her figure erect, her head\nthrown back; in her eyes was the look of one scarce conscious of her\nsurroundings. And indeed, her soul had strayed into another world\u2014the\nworld of pride, and self and hardness of heart.\n\nTime went, and the leaves of the Tree of Pride lay thick round its foot.\nWinter\u2019s white veil covered plain and city, and the Princess, in her\npalace, drew every day farther from humanity; only the King, in his\ndistant kingdom, hoped on, waiting for spring.\n\nBut in the old man, his prisoner, a mighty change was being wrought, and\nhis malignant spirit was beginning to go from him. He had never before\nbeen brought so close to a noble human being. As the King had said, so\nhe had done, and in the winter which followed his return he had hardly\nallowed his hostage out of his sight for an hour: waking, he kept him at\nhis side, and sleeping, he lay across his barred door.\n\nBut, even while so much was at stake, he could not neglect his daily\nwork, and so it came about that where he went the old man had to go\nalso. While he sat in council he was at his left hand; when he dealt out\njustice he was present; and when he was occupied with his army\u2014the\npride of his soul\u2014he was still beside him. He saw how the King made\nhimself as one of his soldiers, how he shirked no work, took no\nadvantage; he saw his gay and noble heart his joy in living, his prowess\nin all feats of arms, the love his troops bore him\u2014and as he saw, his\nwithered nature grew soft. And so it was that by the time the young buds\nbegan to show on the branches and the season drew near for their journey\nto the Tree of Pride, captive though he was, he would have laid down his\nlife for him willingly.\n\nAll the earth was bursting into youth as the two rode over the plain and\napproached the tree. The scent of its blossoms was blowing towards them,\nheavy on the air. The flowers were thick about the ends of the green\nshoots, the petals, half closing, like cups, over the golden hearts\nwithin them. The King cut a few handfuls with his knife while his\ncompanion plaited them into a wreath, and when it was made, they mounted\nand rode into the city.\n\nWhen they arrived, they went to a small inn, and the King, not wishing\nhis presence to be known, sent a messenger to the palace, giving him a\nsum of money. With this he was to bribe the servants to carry news to\nthe Princess that two strangers, having discovered a treasure, desired\nto offer it to her. In this manner they hoped to induce her to receive\nthe crown. On the following day the man returned, having reached the\nPrincess\u2019s ear, and bringing leave for the strangers to approach. So\nthey presented themselves.\n\nThey placed the wreath upon a velvet cushion, and the King waited in a\ndark corner of the Princess\u2019s antechamber, while the old man, whose face\nwas hidden by a magician\u2019s hood which he had procured, entered and laid\nthe gift at her feet.\n\n\u201cRoyal lady\u2014\u2014\u201d he began, but his voice dropped, for the Princess\u2019s\nglance fell on the flowers, and she rose from her chair, her eyes alight\nwith wrath and her lips trembling. Instead of the rich jewels she had\nimagined, there lay before her a simple wreath\u2014beautiful exceedingly,\nbut with a beauty for which she had ceased to care. There was nothing\nabout the offering that could add to her splendour. Any peasant girl,\nhaving leisure to weave such a crown, might wear it without pride and\nwithout remark.\n\nAnd as she sprang up, her eyes met those of her rejected suitor, who had\ndrawn the curtains of the antechamber a little aside in his suspense.\n\nWhen the old man raised the cushion, she seized the wreath and tore it\nin pieces, scattering the petals, like snowflakes, on the floor.\n\nThe King went from the palace in despair and returned to his lodging. He\nhad hoped so fiercely and so long that life seemed almost to have come\nto an end. He mounted his horse, and, bidding the old man farewell,\ndetermined to return to his kingdom and his soldiers, putting the\nthought of the Princess from him for ever. Before he went he gave him a\nthousand gold pieces, and made him promise to return to the Tree of\nPride and cut it down. As the city walls faded behind him, he looked\nback at them with a sigh. For the first time he had lost interest in\neverything, and he knew that it was no longer his pleasure to which he\nwas returning; but he had not forgotten that it was still his duty.\n\nNow, it chanced that, while the Princess refused the crown, there stood\nby the chair a certain lady-in-waiting. She was no longer young, but she\nhad been a beauty in her day and had seen much of men and matters. She\nhad been at the Court for years and her heart was heavy at the change\nshe saw in her mistress. She was a shrewd woman, and it did not escape\nher notice that the person who offered the crown wore a hood like those\nshe had seen on the heads of magicians; besides this, she marvelled that\ntwo strangers, one of whom did not even show himself, should wish to\ngive the Princess what any one of her servants might pluck from the\nhedge. The old man had scarcely disappeared before she made up her mind\nthat here was some mystery she did not understand. Unobserved, she\ngathered up the broken flowers, and that evening she sent a page\nsecretly to discover where he lived, and to desire him to meet her,\nafter dark, at the foot of the palace garden. She also sent the key of a\nlittle door by which he might enter unobserved.\n\nWhen the page found him, the old man was on the point of leaving the\ncity. He was sad, for he had just parted from the King; but he was\nresolved, when he should have destroyed the Tree of Pride, to follow him\nto his own country and spend the rest of his life in his service. When\nhe received the lady\u2019s commands, he did not hesitate to obey them.\n\nThe watchmen were crying ten o\u2019clock as he stood in the starlight inside\nthe little door. He trembled, for he suspected the summons might lead\nhim into some trap; but to serve the King he was ready to venture all,\nand he only hoped the morning might not find him at the bottom of a\ndungeon. He was considering these things when the lady appeared. He was\nabout to speak when she held up her hand.\n\n\u201cI am the Princess\u2019s chief lady-in-waiting,\u201d she began, \u201cand her welfare\nis to me as my own. I have sent for you that I may ask you, for her\nsake, what reason you had for bringing such a gift. She has everything\nthe world can offer, and I am certain that you would not have brought\nher such a present as a common flower wreath if there had not been some\nhidden virtue in it.\u201d\n\nThe old man fell down before her, clinging to her skirt and kissing its\nhem.\n\n\u201cMadam!\u201d he cried, \u201conly persuade the Princess to wear it and all that I\nhave is yours! The King, who loves her, and whose heart she has broken,\nhas made me rich for the rest of my days, but I will give it all up to\nyou if you will only induce her to wear it, even for a moment.\u201d\n\nThen the lady remembered the King, for she had been at her post when he\nreceived his dismissal, and, under her breath, she had called the\nPrincess a fool. She had lived long enough in the world to know a man\nwhen she saw one.\n\n\u201cI never take bribes,\u201d she said, \u201cnor, as a rule, do I tolerate those\nwho offer them; but if you will tell me the truth, I will do my best to\nbring the King and my mistress together.\u201d\n\nSo the old man told her all.\n\nWhen the lady returned to the palace, she took the fragments of the\nwreath and put them carefully together. The petals she collected and\nsewed into their right places with fine silk; it was so deftly done that\nno one could suspect them of having been broken.\n\nThe next day there was to be a banquet at the palace, and before the\ntime came for the Princess to get ready, the lady took one of her maids\naside. \u201cWhile you are fastening the pins of Her Royal Highness\u2019s veil,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cand before you put on her crown, you must scream as though\nyou had pricked your finger. Do as I tell you and ask no questions, for\nI myself will be present and keep her wrath from you.\u201d\n\nSo when the Princess sat before her mirror, the maid brought her veil\nand began to fasten it, while the lady stood by with the wreath\nconcealed in her wide sleeve. All at once the girl shrieked aloud: \u201cOh!\noh! I have torn my finger with a pin!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou unmannerly jade!\u201d cried the lady, \u201cwill you make all this to-do\nwhile Her Highness is dressing? Off with you, and I will fasten the\ncrown myself.\u201d\n\nAnd she thrust her from the room and took her place.\n\nSuddenly the Princess looked up into the glass, and saw, instead of her\ncrown, the wreath of half-opened flowers with their golden centres\nglowing through her hair. She put up her hand to tear the thing from her\nhead; but just as she was going to do so, her lips trembled, and she\nleaned, sobbing, against the table, her face buried in her hands.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nGreat was the joy in the palace that night. The Princess sat at her\nfather\u2019s side with a strange look in her eyes, but her speech was gentle\nand her voice soft. The lady-in-waiting watched her, smiling. She had\ngiven the true history of the wreath, and she wondered what would\nhappen.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nBefore dawn next morning the Princess rose. Without a word to anyone,\nshe ordered her horse to be brought, and, riding by the quietest\nstreets, left the city while the world was yet asleep. She took with her\na heavy purse full of gold, which she hid in the trappings of the\nsaddle, and her spaniel, Girofl\u00e9, which she carried on her knee. A\nmantle was thrown over her head, that her face should not be seen, and\nunder it she still wore the wreath of flowers. Her way took her past the\nold man\u2019s lodging, and there she stopped.\n\n\u201cCome out!\u201d she cried. \u201cHere are some gold pieces. Go to the stable,\ntake the best mule you can find, and follow me. I have vowed to wear the\nwreath from the Tree of Pride until I can mend the heart that its evil\nmagic has broken. I have determined to seek out the King and ask his\nforgiveness for all I have done.\u201d\n\nThe old man desired nothing better. In a few minutes he came from the\nstable, leading a fine strong mule, and, as soon as he was mounted, they\nset off, and passed through the city gate while the sun was still rising\nthrough the mist.\n\nNow, the little dog, Girofl\u00e9, was not in the best of tempers, for he\nresented his position very much. He had spent a pampered youth in the\nroyal palace, and was now entering on a worldly and selfish middle age.\nHis mistress had always made a great deal of him, and she now took him\nwith her, because she feared his arrogant manners would earn him scant\nconsideration in her absence. She knew that he thought himself a great\ndeal better than her chief lady-in-waiting, and, in the days before her\nown pride blinded her to everything else, she had often rebuked him\nsharply. He sat curled up under her cloak, putting his nose out now and\nthen, and sniffing to show his contempt for everything they passed.\n\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d said he to the Princess\u2019s horse, \u201cthat when one travels in\noutlandish places one is justified in addressing those whom one would\nnot be called upon to notice at home. I shall, therefore, speak to you.\nBe good enough to inform me where we are going.\u201d\n\nNever having been inside the palace, the horse had not met Girofl\u00e9\nbefore, though he had often heard tell of him. His honest heart burned\nat the little creature\u2019s insolence, but he answered civilly, not wishing\nto annoy the Princess.\n\n\u201cI have been told nothing, either,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cNo one supposed you had,\u201d replied Girofl\u00e9, \u201cbut one imagines that a\nbeast of burden should know his way about the country.\u201d\n\n\u201cHold your peace, sirrah!\u201d exclaimed the Princess. \u201cI allow no one to\nspeak to Amulet like that. It would be well for you if you were but half\nas useful and brave as he is.\u201d\n\n\u201cI prefer to be ornamental myself,\u201d said the little dog, impudently.\n\n\u201cYou may change your mind when I set you down to run,\u201d replied she,\nslapping him.\n\nThey travelled steadily day by day, sleeping at night in such country\ninns as lay in their road. These were not very grand places, but the\nPrincess cared for no discomfort, thinking only how she might get\nforward on her way. The old man rode a few paces behind, sometimes\ncarrying Girofl\u00e9. The little dog was light, but what he lacked in weight\nhe made up in noise, for he barked ceaselessly, and nothing but threats\nof making him walk could keep his tongue still.\n\nAt last, one evening, as it grew late, they came to the borders of a\nforest which stretched, like a dark sea, across the horizon. A red\nstreak from the departed sun glared angrily over the tree-tops, and they\nhurried on towards a miserable little house where they hoped to get a\nlodging. When they reached it, they found it to be an inn, but so mean\nand tumble-down was it that its walls seemed hardly able to hold\ntogether. A rough-looking man was leaning out of an upper window.\n\n\u201cCan we lodge here?\u201d asked the Princess as she stopped before the door.\n\u201cThere are only myself, my servant, and my little dog.\u201d\n\nThe man nodded, and came to take Amulet and the mule to the stable. She\ndismounted and went in, carrying Girofl\u00e9 under her arm.\n\n\u201cHeavens! what a place!\u201d he exclaimed, as he peeped from under her\ncloak. \u201cSurely we are never going to spend the night here!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe forest is in front,\u201d said she, \u201cand we cannot find our way through\nit at this time of night. We have no choice but to stay where we are and\nbe thankful that we have a roof over our heads. Listen! do you hear the\nwind? There will be a storm before morning.\u201d\n\nAs she spoke a kind of moan ran through the air and the trees began to\ntoss to and fro. A great splash of rain fell against the window. Girofl\u00e9\nsaid no more, but when food was brought and the Princess sat down to\nsup, he remained in a corner of the room, his face to the wall, and an\nexpression on it impossible to describe.\n\n\u201cCome here, Girofl\u00e9, and have some food,\u201d said the Princess, as she sat\nat the table.\n\n\u201cI am glad you call it food,\u201d said he; \u201cfor my part, I should have\ncalled it garbage.\u201d\n\nThe landlord, who was serving, looked at him angrily.\n\n\u201cI suppose you have never seen a spaniel of good family before, fellow?\u201d\nsnapped Girofl\u00e9, as he met his eye.\n\n\u201cGirofl\u00e9, behave yourself!\u201d cried the Princess.\n\nThe landlord left the room, muttering.\n\nSo there Girofl\u00e9 sat till his mistress had retired to bed; then he came\nout and went to warm himself by the hearth, for, the corner being cold,\nhis exclusive demeanour had chilled him. Soon the landlord returned to\ntake away the dishes.\n\n\u201cOh, you are there, are you, little viper?\u201d said he.\n\nAt this Girofl\u00e9 turned upon him with such a torrent of impertinence as\nthe man had never heard before. He had sharpened his tongue for years\nupon every member of the royal household, including the King himself,\nand the landlord, who soon found he was no match for him, grew almost\nfrantic.\n\nHe rushed upon the little dog, trying to reach him with his foot and a\nsoup-ladle which he held; but Girofl\u00e9 tore about round the table and\nbehind such furniture as there was, only darting out now and then to get\na good snap at his heels. The Princess, who was not yet undressed, came\ndownstairs to see what was the matter; for what between the landlord\u2019s\nroars, Girofl\u00e9\u2019s barks, the overturning of chairs and the wind and rain\noutside, the noise was really frightful.\n\n\u201cWhat is all this?\u201d she cried, standing in the doorway.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll soon show you!\u201d bawled the landlord. \u201cI\u2019ll show you that an honest\nman is not to be insulted for nothing! Out with you\u2014you and your vile,\nill-conditioned cur! Princess indeed! He says you are a Princess\u2014but,\nPrincess or not, out you go! Not another moment do you stop under this\nroof!\u201d\n\nJust then he managed to reach Girofl\u00e9 with the ladle, and the little dog\nsprang out, yelping, into the passage.\n\n\u201cCome, off with you!\u201d cried the landlord. And, before the Princess had\ntime to say a word, he had opened the door and thrust her out into the\nnight. It was fortunate for her that she had hidden the bag of gold in\nher girdle, for he slammed the door behind them, and they could hear the\nkey turn and the bolts shoot into their places.\n\nBy this time Girofl\u00e9 was whining. She took him by the scuff of the neck\nand shook him. \u201cIf I did what was right, I should leave you to perish in\nthe nearest ditch,\u201d said she.\n\nBut, all the same, he was so small that she had not the heart to let him\ndie, so she took him up, and ran to the stable, where the old man had\nlaid himself down for the night beside Amulet and his mule. Girofl\u00e9\nwhined and snarled all the time.\n\nThere was nothing for it but to start off again; they could not even\nremain in the stable, for the landlord was shouting from the window to a\ncouple of men to turn them out. All they could do was to mount and ride\ntowards the forest, where at least the branches would give them some\nshelter from the pouring rain.\n\nWhen they entered it, the darkness was such that they could scarcely see\ntheir way. There were no stars to guide them, so, after stumbling about\nfor some time, they began to search for a place in which they could be\nsheltered from the wind. By the light of the little lantern that the old\nman carried with him, they saw a bank covered with distorted tree-roots,\nsome of which had been torn from the ground in a gale. They spread\nleaves and bracken in a hollow underneath one of these, and the Princess\nlay down to rest, with her cloak drawn about her, and Girofl\u00e9, who was\nby this time much subdued, curled himself at her feet. The old man and\nhis mule disposed themselves a little way off, and Amulet stood in as\nsnug a spot as he could find. The noise of the swishing branches\noverhead sounded like the waves of the sea.\n\nBut at last the wanderers fell asleep, and the storm had abated and the\nmoon come out when the Princess heard Amulet plunging and stamping, and\nsat up, rubbing her eyes. By the light of the crescent showing through a\ngap in the trees, she saw a host of dark creatures surrounding them on\nall sides. She could not imagine what they were. Their great wings were\noutlined sharply against the moonlight, and, though their faces were\nhidden, she was aware of their bright eyes fixed upon her. One figure in\ntheir midst came towards them holding a tall spear; a crown of pale\ngreen flickering flame was on his head. Girofl\u00e9 jumped up barking and\nthen fled to his mistress\u2019s skirts, his tail between his legs. In a\nmoment the tall figure strode after him and pierced him to the heart\nwith his spear. As he bent over his victim, the Princess could see that\nhe had the face of a bat.\n\nThen, at a signal from him, the whole host came about them; they were\nseized, and Amulet, who had tried to attack the Bat-King with his teeth,\nwas taken also; for, gallop and stamp as he might, the fluttering wings\nclosed him round on every side, so that there was no escape. The mule\nfled at once.\n\nWhen they were all safely secured, the Bat-King went on before them and\nhis people followed, leading their prisoners into the heart of the\nforest.\n\nAnd there we must leave them, for we must return to the King, and hear\nwhat happened to him after his parting with the old man.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nWhen he reached home, the King threw himself into his old pursuits as if\nnothing had happened; but his heart was so sore that they gave him\nlittle joy, and, instead of spending his spare hours in hunting with his\nlords and gentlemen, he only longed to be alone. When he had leisure he\nwould ride off by himself for days at a time, searching for new scenes\nand new thoughts. He would go out across the borders of his kingdom, by\ntowers and rivers and high castles, sometimes wandering through towns\nand sometimes passing nights alone in the waste places of the hills.\n\nOne evening he came to the foot of a chain of rocky mountains, and\nstopped, looking up at the crags which towered above his head. Their\nshapes were so weird that he wondered whether their spires and pinnacles\nhad been carved out by human hands, or whether an earthquake had cast\nthem up in the likeness of men\u2019s work. A track wound up and disappeared\namong them, and he turned his horse\u2019s steps into it.\n\nHe had reached a considerable height when he came suddenly to a chasm so\ndeep that he could not see its bottom. The rock on either side was worn\nsmooth, as though with the passing of many feet, and the opening was\nnarrow enough for a man to stride across without difficulty. The horse\nstopped, and the rein being loose on his neck, snuffed delicately at the\nstrange gash that divided his path; then he picked his way over it,\nsnorting and cocking his ears. They were scarcely ten yards on the\nfarther side when there was a loud cracking noise, and, looking back,\nthe King saw that the chasm had split wider asunder and now yawned\nbehind him like the mouth of a pit. The horse dashed forward, and had\ngone some distance before his rider could check him. When at last they\nstood still, they had come to a smooth face of high rock, with a wide\nledge at its foot, over which the track went.\n\nCrowning its summit, some feet above their heads, ran a battlemented\nwall, and on it sat a woman who looked down at the King while she\nsupported herself with one white arm. Whirling vapour floated behind\nher, through which appeared the outline of a fantastic castle whose\ntowers seemed to climb to heaven. Her hair was bound about with cords of\nsilver and livid purple poppies. Their petals were dropping down and\nfalling in the King\u2019s path. A dull dark blue garment was wound round her\nwhich left only her bare arms free and trailed over the wall below her\nfeet, mixing with her heavy plaits and the silver tassels at the ends of\nthem.\n\nShe smiled, bending forward till she looked as though she must fall from\nher high place; she was like some great unearthly gull poised upon a\nwave\u2019s crest.\n\n\u201cSoon it will be too dark to travel among these precipices,\u201d she cried.\n\u201cCome up, O King, before the light falls. The way winds up to my gates.\u201d\n\nAnd, indeed, the path took a turn at the end of the ledge, and, twisting\nlike a ribbon, vanished in the vapour.\n\nThere was no going back, for the chasm was behind him, and the light, as\nshe said, was failing; so he rode upwards till he came to a gate whose\ntop was lost in the clouds. It opened, disclosing a castle, and inside\nit the lady was coming to meet him, her draperies trailing behind her\nand the silver tassels on her plaits making a tinkling sound as they\nswept the stones. A noiseless person came from a doorway and led away\nhis horse.\n\nShe was very beautiful. Her pale face and scarlet lips and her\nheavy-lidded eyes made him think of things he had seen in dreams, and a\nfaint misgiving touched him as he followed her. Before the castle was a\nterrace, on the wall of which he had seen her sitting above him as he\nentered. He passed through stone galleries, over whose sides he thought\nhe could see wild faces staring; the misgiving deepened with every step.\n\nShe went before him to a chamber hung with curtains, and when she had\nleft him, another silent servant brought him fresh clothes and began to\nunbuckle his spurs. When he had put off his belt and sword, the servant\ntook them from him and turned to the door.\n\n\u201cGive me my sword,\u201d said the King; \u201cI never part with that.\u201d\n\nHe stretched out his hand to take it, but as he did so his companion\nvanished on the spot where he had stood. Then he saw that the walls were\nhung with images of demons, and that snakes\u2019 heads peered from the\ncorners. He looked out of the window, to see nothing but whirling\nvapours. When a messenger came to tell him that the lady awaited him to\nsup with her, he followed gloomily, for he knew he was in the stronghold\nof an Enchantress.\n\nShe was sitting at a table, on which a feast was spread, and she made\nhim as welcome as though he had been some long-expected guest. Her voice\nwas mellow as the voice of pigeons cooing in the woods, but it seemed to\nhim that a gleam of cruelty lurked in her eyes. After dark, a chill fell\nin the air, and they drew close to a fire of logs which glowed at one\nend of the hall. A silent-footed company of musicians came, playing on\ninstruments the like of which he had never seen, and one in their midst\nbegan to sing:\n\n              \u201cBoughs of the pine, and stars between,\n              In woods where shadows fill the air\u2014\n              Oh, who may rest that once hath been\n                    A shadow there?\n\n              \u201cSounds of the night, and tears between,\n              The grey owl hooting, dimly heard:\n              Can footsteps reach these lands unseen,\n                    Or wings of bird?\n\n              \u201cDays of the years, and worlds between\u2014\n              Oh, through those boughs the stars may burn;\n              The heart may break for lands unseen,\n              For woods wherein its life has been,\n                    But not return!\u201d\n\nThe King sat listening, his head leaning upon his hand, and when he\nlooked up, the Enchantress\u2019s eyes were fixed on him with the cruel look\nhe could not fathom. He sprang up and begged leave to retire; he was\nweary, he said, for he had ridden a long distance. At the door of the\nhall he asked her to tell her servants to return his sword. \u201cWe have\nnever been parted yet,\u201d said he.\n\nShe broke into a laugh. \u201cTo-morrow,\u201d she said, waving him away. And when\nhe would have spoken again, he found himself alone.\n\nHe rose very early next day and left the castle without meeting anyone;\nthe gates were open, and he went all round the walls, hoping to come\nacross some path which would take him out of the hills and lead him to\nthe plains below. He was now sure that he was a prisoner. He remembered\nwith a shudder how the rock on either side of the chasm was worn by the\nfeet that had passed over it; and, having found only precipices on the\nnorth side of the castle, he determined to follow the track by which he\nhad come, and see if some path, no matter how dangerous, might be found\nby which he could escape.\n\nComing down towards the chasm, he could hardly believe his eyes, for the\nsides had closed together, and it was no wider than when he had first\nseen it. He ran forward, but as he reached the brink it opened with the\ncracking noise he had heard before, and he found himself standing on the\nedge, looking into a gulf of mist. He turned back, disheartened; and as\nhe crossed the ledge under the wall, he looked up to see the\nEnchantress, perched upon her height, watching him and smiling.\n\nDay after day he lived on, a free prisoner. Each evening when he left\nher he asked for his sword, and each evening her laugh was the only\nanswer he got. He did not know that the Enchantress had sat countless\nyears upon the ramparts of her castle, waiting, like a spider, for her\nprey; that all her life had been spent in entrapping and imprisoning\nmen. Some she had slain, some she had kept in dungeons, and some had\ndashed themselves down into the ravines or perished among them in their\nefforts to escape.\n\nBut she had no intention of killing the King or of casting him into a\ndungeon; of all those she had entrapped, he was the one she liked best,\nand every day she fell more deeply in love with him. She would stand by\nhim on the highest tower of the castle, showing him all the wonders of\nthe landscape and telling him tales which almost made him forget his\ncaptivity; she gave him rich gifts, and plied him with such wines and\ndelicacies as, King though he was, he had never tasted. Each morning a\nservant brought him new clothes and jewels to choose from, but it only\nmade him long more fervently for his russet leather and his sword. Each\nevening she would send for her musicians and sit by him till far into\nthe night, listening to the unearthly melodies they played. But he cared\nneither for her nor for them.\n\nHis thought was always of escape, but, to throw her off her guard, he\nbehaved as though life was growing endurable. He kissed her hand night\nand morning, he sought her company, he did all that he could to flatter\nher; but in reality he hated her false smile and soft voice, and only\nthe hope of releasing himself made him able to play his part.\n\nOn the first night of every week the Enchantress would disappear, going\nout in a car drawn by great owls, and not returning till dawn. He longed\nto go with her, because he was weary for a change of scene, and because\nhe thought it possible that he might find some chance of escape. So one\nevening, seeing that she was about to depart, he sighed heavily.\n\n\u201cLady,\u201d he said, \u201cif you knew how long these evenings seem to me when\nyou are away, you would never have the heart to go.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre not all my dancing-girls and musicians here to while away the\ntime?\u201d replied she, looking very softly at him.\n\n\u201cWhat do I care for them?\u201d said he. \u201cIs there one who has a voice like\nyours, or a face to be compared with yours? No, no. If I have to part\nwith you, my only wish is to be alone.\u201d\n\nThe Enchantress was delighted.\n\n\u201cI must go, nevertheless,\u201d she said. \u201cFor a long time past I have spent\nthe first night of every week in a visit to the Bat-King, who rules over\nan enchanted forest some leagues from here. If I were to disappoint him,\nhe would never forgive me. I have to go after dark and return before\nsunrise, as he can only see at night, and spends his days sleeping among\nthe trees.\u201d\n\nThe King made as though he were jealous.\n\n\u201cAnd who is this Bat-King that he should rob me of you?\u201d he cried in an\nangry voice.\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said the Enchantress, laughing, \u201cthere is only one thing\nfor it\u2014you must come too. For I cannot vex the Bat-King by my absence,\nand you can delight yourself with my company while we go and come.\u201d\n\nThen, as though she guessed his thoughts, she continued: \u201cIf I did not\nknow you loved me, I would tell you that you need not hope to escape\nfrom me in the forest. The Bat-King has millions of subjects, and he has\nonly to sign to them to put you to death should you attempt it.\u201d\n\nThey went out, and on the ramparts her chariot waited her. The King\ncould not tell what it was made of, but it looked like one of those\nclouds that cross the setting sun before a stormy night; six enormous\nowls were harnessed to it and stood ready for a flight, their yellow\neyes fixed on space. A servant handed a long scourge of plaited twigs to\nthe Enchantress. When she and the King had seated themselves, the car\nrose into the air, and they were soon rushing across the sky.\n\nAway they went, leaving the earth far under them; they flew over towns\ntwinkling with lights and rivers which lay in the darkness like shining\nsnakes. Sometimes a heavy bird of prey would pass on its way beneath\nthem, and sometimes the cry of a nightjar would come up from below. At\nlast they came upon a dark mass covering many miles, which the\nEnchantress told him was the forest of the Bat-King. A curious twilight\nshone through the branches, caused by the presence of many glow-worms.\nThe owls lit upon an open patch among the trees, and she got out of the\ncar, telling the King to remain beside her as he valued his life. The\nowls crouched near, ruffling as they settled.\n\nIn a short time they saw a dark-winged figure coming towards them, whose\ncrown of pale flame threw furtive shadows on the tree-trunks. The\nEnchantress went to meet him, and for some time the two friends walked\nup and down at a little distance from the King. He looked above and\naround for some chance of escape. Once he thought of springing into the\nowl chariot, but the Enchantress had taken her whip of plaited twigs\nwith her, and he feared that without it the owls might refuse to fly. He\nfelt under his doublet for a dagger which he had managed to lay hands on\nafter his sword had been taken, and which he had kept carefully hidden\never since. Then a sound made him glance upwards, and he saw that the\nboughs of the trees were a mass of gigantic figures, winged and carrying\nlong nets; they jibbered and laughed, making as though they would throw\nthem over him. It was plain that there was no hope of escape, and that\nhis only chance would be on the homeward way, when he might stab the\nEnchantress, and with her plaited switch force the owls downwards to\nearth. But he shuddered at the thought of killing a woman, even though\nshe were a fiend. He turned over these things in his mind till he heard\nher calling.\n\n\u201cCome!\u201d she was saying. \u201cIt may please you to see some of your own kind.\nHis Majesty has got two prisoners he is keeping in the forest, and I am\ngoing to look at them. You need not think we shall leave you. I hear\nthat the woman is beautiful, so you can tell me if you think her as\nbeautiful as I am.\u201d\n\nThey followed the Bat-King for some distance. The thickness of the\nforest was surprising; twisted roots were woven together in the most\nwonderful manner, and starry blossoms swayed to and fro in the night\nwind. The Bat-creatures came crowding behind, close on their footsteps.\n\nAt last they reached a place where some trees stood round a grassy\ncircle; in the centre of it were two figures.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said the Bat-King, \u201chere are my prisoners. In the night, when my\npeople are awake, they are watched on all sides, and in the day, while\nwe sleep, one touch of my spear raises such a wall of bush and brier\nthat they may try for ever to get through it in vain.\u201d\n\nHis eyes gleamed with malice. \u201cStand, woman!\u201d he cried, \u201cstand up and\nlet the Enchantress see you!\u201d\n\nA lady rose and stood before them, and, as she looked up at her\ntormentor, her eyes met those of the King. For a moment he remained dumb\nwith horror, then, with a shout, he sprang upon the Bat-King, hurling\nhim to the ground and battering his head against the earth.\n\nThe Enchantress shrieked and the Bat-people came round in dozens. They\noverpowered the King, dragging his enemy from under him, and in another\nmoment he also found himself a prisoner.\n\nThe Bat-King, who was now on his feet, rushed at him with his spear, but\nthe Enchantress threw herself between them.\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d she cried, \u201cyou shall not kill him! He is mine! No one shall\nharm him. I love him and he loves me!\u201d\n\nAt this the King, beside himself with rage, turned upon her.\n\n\u201cI would sooner die than be near you another day,\u201d he cried. \u201cI hate you\nas I hate sin itself! There is only one person in the world I love, and\nthat is this Princess.\u201d\n\nThe Enchantress\u2019s face grew white; all her beauty seemed to have faded.\nShe pressed close to him, her fingers opening and shutting, as though\nshe would tear him to pieces.\n\n\u201cI hate you!\u201d he exclaimed again. \u201cWoman though you are, if my hands\nwere free, I would kill you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou all shall die,\u201d said the Enchantress. \u201cFirst you shall see the\nwoman die, you traitor; then her companion; then you shall die yourself.\nNo one lives to offend me twice.\u201d\n\nThen she turned to the Bat-King. \u201cSend for your subjects,\u201d she cried,\n\u201cand let us kill them before I leave this forest. I will not go back to\nmy castle till I have seen them slain with torments.\u201d\n\nThe Bat-King held up his spear, and his creatures came flocking from\nevery thicket till the place looked like a billowy sea of black wings.\n\nThe King\u2019s heart sank; he cared little for torment and pain or the loss\nof his own life, but he could not bear the thought of seeing the\nPrincess die. But she looked bravely at him.\n\n\u201cWe have met again,\u201d she said, \u201cso I am happy. And now we are going to\ndie for each other.\u201d Then she turned to the old man. \u201cGirofl\u00e9 is dead,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cand they have taken Amulet\u2014I know not where; but you have\nstayed to the end with me. I have nothing to reward you with, but I will\ndo all I can for you. Lady,\u201d she continued, \u201cneither I nor the King\nwould ask for our lives, even if you were willing to grant them. But\nthis old man, my faithful servant, has done you no harm. I beg you to\nspare him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe shall die first, that you may see it,\u201d replied the Enchantress, with\na look of hatred.\n\nBut at this moment there was a sudden movement among the Bat-people, and\nall their dark arms were raised, pointing in one direction. For, far\naway eastward, beyond the tree-trunks, the first pale streaks of morning\nlay along the edge of the world.\n\n\u201cIt is too late,\u201d cried the Bat-King. \u201cIn a few minutes the dawn will be\nupon us, and we shall not be able to see.\u201d\n\nEven as he spoke the Bat-creatures were hurrying back to their trees,\nblinking in the growing light. His eyes were getting dimmer every\nmoment, and the Enchantress saw that she must put off her vengeance.\n\n\u201cWhen I return, this night week, we will kill them,\u201d said she. \u201cKeep\nthem for me, for I will not lose the sight for twenty kingdoms.\u201d\n\nAnd she went off in haste, for she feared that her owls might not reach\nthe castle ere the full blaze of day.\n\nBefore the Bat-King left his prisoners, he struck his spear on the\nground, and a wall of briers rose around them, shutting them in. As soon\nas they were alone, the King, who still had his dagger hidden upon him,\nbegan to try and cut a way through with it. But as fast as he cut one\nstem, another grew in its place, and he found his work useless; there\nseemed nothing to do but to sit and wait for the end. In a week the\nEnchantress would return to see them put to death, and he could only\npromise himself that, while he had his concealed weapon, he would sell\nall their lives dear. Neither he nor the Princess had any hope of\nescape, for even should they be able to get through the tangled walls,\nthey knew that the Bat-creatures could easily prevent their getting out\nof the forest.\n\nAt night, when the Bats were astir, the Bat-King would make the wall\ndisappear, for he liked to look at his captives and tell them how little\ntime they had left. In this way several days went by.\n\nNow, the Princess had worn her white wreath till every bit of blossom\nhad fallen, so that by the time she arrived in the forest it was\nscarcely more than a twist of withered leaves. She had taken it off\nreluctantly and thrown it down close to the place where they were now\nconfined, and one day, as she and her lover paced their prison, they saw\nthat the damp earth had revived the dying shoots and that they had put\nforth fruit. It lay on the earth, ripe and purple, and when night had\nfallen, and the Bat-King walked abroad, he saw what he took to be a\nspray of plums lying tossed at the foot of a tree. He ate one, and,\nfinding it delicious, did not stop till he had devoured the whole.\n\nThat night the Bats rushed up and down the forest in dismay, for they\ncould not think what had happened to their monarch. He would suffer none\nto approach him. No one could do his bidding fast enough to escape his\nwrath; no one was fit to stand in his presence; no one could make a low\nenough obeisance as he passed. But the strangest thing of all was that,\nwhen dawn broke, instead of hastening to his tree till the light should\nbe gone, he protested that he was able to see as well in the sunshine as\nin the dark. To one so great as himself, he said, day and night were the\nsame. He stumbled about, feeling the way with his spear, and by the time\nthe Bats were asleep he came to the place where the Princess and her\ncompanions were. He had forgotten the wall he should have raised round\nthem; he had forgotten how dangerous it was to approach the King\nunguarded; he had forgotten everything but his own fancied greatness.\n\nThe King watched him come; his hand was on his dagger, his eyes on fire.\nAs he drew near he sprang upon him and stabbed him to the\nheart\u2014once\u2014twice. It was all over in a moment, quietly, and the\nBat-King died without a groan, for his enemy\u2019s hand was over his mouth.\n\nBy noon they had dug a hole deep enough for his body, and, having taken\nhis clothes, his wings and his spear, they laid him in it, treading down\nthe earth and covering the place with leaves.\n\nThen they took the old man and dressed him in the Bat-King\u2019s garments.\nThey fastened the wings to his shoulders in as natural a way as they\ncould. They put the spear in his hand, the flaming crown on his head,\nand with the dagger they cut off his long beard. With flint and steel\nthey lit a fire, and, burning some wood, smeared his face with the ash\ntill it was as dark as that of their dead enemy. His own clothes they\nrolled up and hid in a hole. When all this was done the old man made a\nwhistling noise, such as he had heard the Bat-King make to call his\nsubjects, and the evil creatures trooped round, staggering blindly about\nin the daylight.\n\nWhen they were gathered at a little distance, he told them, in a voice\nas like that of their leader as he could make it, that the Princess\u2019s\nservant was dead. He showed them the mound in the grass, under which, he\nsaid, he had made the other two prisoners bury him. A murmur of approval\nran through the Bat crowd. The creatures could scarcely see the speaker,\nbut they were anxious to keep their Sovereign in a good temper, so they\npretended to understand everything. It was evident that they had no\nsuspicions.\n\n\u201cIf we are to escape,\u201d said the Princess, under her breath, \u201cI must have\nmy dear Amulet back, I will never consent to leave him here.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow!\u201d cried the old man, \u201cbring me the white horse that the woman rode\nupon. Fetch him immediately, for I intend to go afoot no more.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-night, your Majesty, to-night?\u201d cried they, astonished. \u201cWe cannot\nsee in this blinding light!\u201d\n\n\u201cObey me at once,\u201d roared the old man, \u201cor I will have fifty of you\nexecuted after sunset! Is the greatest monarch on earth to walk like the\nlowest of his people?\u201d\n\nThe Bats disappeared in all directions, for the Bat-King had kept the\nhorse tied up in a distant spot; in their alarm they strayed all over\nthe forest, but at last some of them got to the place where he was\ntethered.\n\nThe Princess watched eagerly for her favourite. \u201cDear Amulet,\u201d she\nwhispered to him when he arrived, \u201chave no fear and we shall yet escape.\nI have sent for you that I may free you. Do all you are bid, for he who\nyou think is the Bat-King is our friend who has come all the way with\nus.\u201d\n\nThen the old man mounted; he dismissed the crowd, but kept back one of\nthe Bat-creatures, whom he drove before him with his spear to guide him\nto the edge of the enchanted forest. The Bat could scarcely see, but\nwhen he stopped, he beat him with the spear-shaft till he found the way\nagain.\n\nThe King and Princess remained behind; they feared to rouse the\nsuspicions of their enemies by going with him, as evening was far spent\nand the time when they would see clearly was drawing near. Besides\nwhich, they did not know how far distant the forest\u2019s edge might be, nor\nwhether the Princess would be able to reach it on foot by dark.\n\nBefore long the old man returned. He had freed Amulet at the borders,\nbidding him stay near the wood\u2019s outskirts till his mistress should be\nable to join him. He had then slain the guide with his spear, lest he\nshould bring word to his fellows of what had happened. The Princess\nrejoiced that her dear Amulet was safe, and the three companions sat\ndown to discuss their escape. The King had a plan which they hoped to\ncarry out that night, for the week had gone by and the Enchantress was\ncoming.\n\nThe glow-worms were shining and the Bats going about again with open\neyes when the owl-chariot was seen. The old man took a dark cloak which\nhad belonged to the Bat-King, and, muffling his head and face with it,\nwent to meet the Enchantress. As she stepped out of her car he cried:\n\u201cAlas, lady! I have bad news. The old man is dead, and the pleasure of\nslaying one of these wretches is lost. I kept him alive as long as I\ncould, but his captivity told on him and he died.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is of no consequence,\u201d said she. \u201cIt is the other two who concern\nme most. We will make it yet worse for them. But why do you keep your\nface hidden?\u201d\n\n\u201cFair one,\u201d replied he, \u201cflying in the daylight, I bruised my cheek\nagainst a tree, and I would not that you should see it.\u201d\n\nShe laughed. \u201cAnd why is your voice so strange?\u201d she asked again.\n\n\u201cIt is the folds of the cloak that muffle it,\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cAnd how is it,\u201d she went on, seating herself on the grass, \u201cthat you\nhave made no preparations for the execution?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll is ready,\u201d he said; \u201conly wait till I call up my people, and you\nshall choose the manner of their deaths.\u201d\n\nThen he gave a call, and the Bat-creatures surrounded them.\n\n\u201cBats!\u201d he cried, pointing to the Enchantress, \u201cfall upon this woman and\nslay her where she stands.\u201d\n\nAnd almost before she had time to scream they had set upon her, and\nwhile she raved and struggled they beat her with their heavy wings,\nsmiting her till she died.\n\nThen the King and Princess sprang into the owl-chariot, the old man\nfollowing. Before the Bats discovered how they had been deceived, the\nKing took the plaited switch which was lying in the car and lashed the\nowls till they flew up far above the heads of the tossing crowd. The\nBat-creatures rose with one accord into the air and followed in a great\nflight, but the owls were swifter, and soon the forest was passed and\nthe pursuers fell back, fearing the open country.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nWhen the lovers and their companion came down to earth and lit on the\nground, they found Amulet waiting near the place where the old man had\nleft him, and they passed the rest of the night peacefully under the\nstars.\n\nNext day they began their homeward journey, and in time reached the city\nin the plain where the Princess lived; and there she was married to her\nlover with great splendour. Amulet and the old man went with her to her\nhusband\u2019s kingdom, and on the way thither they stopped to see the Tree\nof Pride cut down.\n\nThen they rode on, the King and his Queen side by side, and disappeared\nover the plain and beyond the blue hills into their new life.\n\n\n\n\n                      THE STORY OF FARMYARD MAGGIE\n\n\nOne Saturday afternoon when the miller had let his man go out, he was\nstanding at the mill door above the steps, with the white dust whirling\nbehind him like a mist. He saw Peter and his sister near the witch\u2019s\ncottage, and he waved his hand and shouted to them to come. He was\nsmoking, but knocked the ashes out of his pipe, for he was certain that\nlittle Peter would ask for a story. He liked telling him stories better\nthan reading out of his grandmother\u2019s book, because he could look at\nJanet all the time, instead of keeping his eyes upon the words. He began\nto rack his brains for something new.\n\n\u201cA story! a story!\u201d cried little Peter, as soon as he had got within\nearshot.\n\n\u201cBut I have none left in my head,\u201d said the miller, teasing him.\n\n\u201cThen there is the book,\u201d said Peter. \u201cI\u2019ll go for it.\u201d\n\nIt was a long time since he had stopped being afraid of the tall man in\nthe white hat.\n\n\u201cNo! no! no!\u201d cried the miller. \u201cCome here and sit on the sacks, and\nI\u2019ll think of something. We\u2019ll go up and shut the sluice in a few\nminutes, and by that time no doubt something new will come into my\nmind.\u201d\n\nJanet came in and sat down, and the dust settled on her yellow hair till\nshe looked like a snow-powdered fairy on the top of a Christmas cake.\nThe miller thought it beautiful. As for little Peter, the creaking\nmachinery was enough to keep him happy, and when they went to shut the\nsluice-gate, he danced and jumped the whole way there.\n\n\u201cSo here we\u2019ll stay,\u201d said the miller, when the water was turned off and\nthey were sitting on a fallen tree at the edge of the mill-dam. \u201cI have\njust remembered the story of Farmyard Maggie.\u201d\n\nLong before you were born, and before I was born either (began the\nmiller), there lived at the farm over yonder a little girl. She was an\norphan, like you, but she had not even a grandmother to share her roof\nwith her. In summer she slept by the hedge, and in winter she would slip\ninto the stable and lie by the farm horses. And when it was autumn, and\nthe stacks stood in rows in the rickyard waiting to be threshed, she\nwould crawl in under them through the little hole that is left for the\nair to pass through and to keep them from heating. There she slept as\nsnug as if she were in a house. She was called \u201cFarmyard Maggie,\u201d\nbecause it was her business to look after the fowls in the yard.\n\nPoor little body! she had not a very happy life of it. They were rough\nfolk at the farm, for the farmer was miserly and his wife was cruel, and\noften she did not get enough to eat. But the farm men were kind and\nwould sometimes give her a crust of bread or a bit of cheese from their\nown dinners; and once, when it was cold, a ploughman brought her a pair\nof shoes that belonged to his own little girl, for he did not like to\nsee her poor little toes on the frosty ground. The horses were kind\nalways, and were careful not to kick her or tramp on her when she took\nrefuge in their stalls; but, unfortunately, they were proud, and when\nthey had on their fine harness with the brass crescents that swung\nbetween their ears, they would not notice her. They were high creatures.\n\nMaggie took care of the poultry well. She knew all the cocks and hens\nand little chickens, and even the waddling, gobbling, ducks, whom she\nfetched home each evening from the pond at the foot of the hill, thought\nwell of her\u2014that is, when they had time to think of anything but their\nown stomachs, which was not often, certainly. But she had two great\nfriends who loved her dearly. One was a little game-fowl who was as\nstraight on his legs as a sergeant on parade, and the other was a large\nCochin-China cock who looked as if he wore ill-fitting yellow trousers\nthat were always on the verge of coming off. The gamecock despised the\nCochin-Chinaman a little, for he thought him vulgar, but he was a great\ndeal too well-bred to show it. Besides which, their affection for Maggie\nmade the two birds quite friendly.\n\nOne autumn afternoon, when the mist hung over the stubble and the\nbrambles were red and gold, Maggie sat crying just over there by the\nroadside. She was most dreadfully unhappy, for a duck was lost and the\nfarmer\u2019s wife had told her that she must go away and never come back any\nmore. She had turned her out of the yard without so much as a sixpence\nor a piece of bread to keep her from starving.\n\nPresently the Cochin-China cock passed by, and when he saw she was in\ntrouble, he came running towards her as hard as he could, with great\nawkward strides and his neck stuck out in front of him.\n\n\u201cOh, what _is_ the matter?\u201d he cried. And Maggie put her arms round him\nand told him everything.\n\nWhen he knew what had happened he was in as great a taking as herself,\nand he walked up and down, flapping his wings distractedly and making\nthe most heartrending noises in his throat.\n\n\u201cI must go for Alfonso,\u201d he said at last.\n\nAlfonso was the gamecock.\n\nI can tell you there was a to-do when the birds got at the bottom of the\naffair! They stood, one on either side of their poor friend, begging her\nnot to cry; and Alfonso was anxious to fight everybody, from the bantam\nup to the great bubbly-jock who scraped his wings along the ground and\nturned blue about the neck if you whistled to him. All the fowls knew\nthat something terrible had happened.\n\n\u201cBut what is the use of your fighting, dear Alfonso?\u201d said Maggie. \u201cIt\nwould do me no good, and the poultry are all innocent. They have done me\nno harm.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not so sure about those sly fat huzzies of ducks. What business\nhave they to look after themselves so badly? I have a good mind to go\ndown and have a few words with the drake.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no\u2014pray don\u2019t,\u201d said Maggie. \u201cThe best thing I can do is to go\naway and be done with it.\u201d\n\nThe Cochin-Chinaman was weeping hoarsely: he had no dignity.\n\n\u201cI never thought to leave my family,\u201d he cried, \u201cbut this is the last\nthey\u2019ll see of me. I shall go with you.\u201d\n\nAlfonso was rather shocked, for he had very proper ideas.\n\n\u201cAnd leave your wife?\u201d he exclaimed.\n\n\u201cShe is in love with the Dorking cock, so she can stay with him. I have\nknown it for some time. There he is, standing on one leg by the\nwood-pile.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will come too,\u201d said the game-fowl, who was a bachelor, \u201cbut do you\ngo on. I will just go and break every bone in the drake\u2019s body, and I\ncan catch you up before you are out of sight.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, no! no! Promise you won\u2019t do that!\u201d implored Maggie.\n\nIt took some time to persuade him to be quiet, but at last it was done.\n\n\u201cIt is better to get the business over at once,\u201d said the Cochin-China\ncock. \u201cIf Alfonso is ready, we will start.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd pray, who says I am not ready for anything?\u201d inquired the other.\n\u201cAnyone who wants to eat his words has only to come to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut nobody says it,\u201d replied Maggie soothingly. \u201cI am sure no one ever\nhad two such dear, brave friends as I have.\u201d\n\nAnd with that the three set forth on their travels.\n\nThey went up the road that runs north, round the other side of the dam,\nfor they were anxious to get as far as possible without being seen, in\ncase anyone should come after them to try and make the cocks go back.\nSometimes they ran, they were in such a hurry. At last they came to\nwhere the old gipsy track crosses the way, and turned into it; feeling\nmuch safer for the shelter of the whins and bushes in that green place.\n\nAll round them there were tangles of bramble, red and copper and orange,\nand fiery spotted leaves. Where it was damp the dew still lay under the\nburning bracken and the yellow ragwort stood up like plumes and feathers\nof gold. Here they went slower, pushing through the broom, whose black\npods rattled as they passed. In front of them a little string of smoke\nwas rising, and when they reached it, they found that it came from the\nchimneys of a caravan which was drawn up in a clearing.\n\nMaggie and her two friends crouched down and looked at it through the\nbracken. They saw a large blue van and a battered-looking green one,\nwhich stood with their shafts resting on the ground. A couple of horses\ngrazed, unharnessed, a few yards away. In a circle of stones burned a\nfire, over which hung a black caldron, and a woman, with a string of red\nbeads round her neck, was nursing a baby on the top step of the blue\nvan.\n\n\u201cOh, what a lovely baby!\u201d whispered Maggie, as she gazed at them.\n\n\u201cSo it is,\u201d replied the Cochin-China cock amiably. Alfonso turned up his\nbeak, for he had no domestic tastes.\n\n\u201cI must go a little nearer,\u201d said Maggie. \u201cOh, look! the woman can see\nus. I really will ask her to show it to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cMa\u2019am,\u201d she said, making a curtsey, \u201cmay I look at your little child?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: \u201cMAGGIE TOOK IT AND BEGAN TO ROCK IT ABOUT.\u201d]\n\nThe woman exchanged glances of rather contemptuous amusement with a man\nwho had come out of the van and stood behind her. Then she held the baby\nout to Maggie, and Maggie took it and began to rock it about as if she\nhad minded babies, and not poultry, all her life.\n\n\u201cWell, I never!\u201d said the man. He wore small gold rings in his ears.\n\nAt this moment there arose a most furious noise from some fowls that\nwere wandering about among the van wheels, where a fight was beginning.\nAlfonso had already managed to pick a quarrel with someone of his own\nsex, and the hens were screeching as the two birds crouched opposite to\neach other, making leaps into the air and striking out until the\nfeathers flew.\n\n\u201cAlfonso! Alfonso! stop this moment!\u201d screamed Maggie. \u201cOh! what a way\nto behave!\u201d\n\nBut she could not get at him because of the baby she held.\n\n\u201cHe has dreadful manners,\u201d moaned the Cochin-China cock. But he would\nnot have said that if Alfonso had been able to hear him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the man, vaulting down the steps, \u201cthat\u2019s the finest little\ngame-bird I ever saw.\u201d\n\nAnd without more ado he separated the fighters and pushed Alfonso under\na basket that stood upside down near the van. There was a hole in it,\nand through this Alfonso stuck his head and crowed at the top of his\nvoice.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing to him?\u201d cried Maggie. \u201cHe is my friend, and we are\ntravelling together.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s mine now,\u201d replied the man, \u201cfor I\u2019m going to keep him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I can\u2019t part from him\u2014you have got no right to take him away.\u201d And\nthe tears rushed to Maggie\u2019s eyes at the thought.\n\n\u201cBest come along too,\u201d said the woman, who spoke little.\n\n\u201cOh yes\u2014and perhaps I could mind the baby,\u201d exclaimed Maggie.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019d have to,\u201d said the woman. \u201cWe don\u2019t keep people for nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there\u2019s him too,\u201d said Maggie, pointing to the Cochin-Chinaman. \u201cI\ncan\u2019t leave him either. He always goes with Alfonso and me.\u201d\n\nThe man laughed. \u201cYou\u2019re the queerest lot _I_ ever saw,\u201d said he. \u201cBut I\nsuppose we must have you all.\u201d\n\nAnd so it was settled.\n\nMaggie was very much relieved to find that the party was to move away\nearly next morning, and she took care to keep as much out of sight as\npossible. But the rest of the evening passed without their hearing or\nseeing anything of the people at the farm, and she hoped that no one had\ndiscovered their absence. As soon as it was light next day the horses\nwere harnessed, and the three truants set out with their new friends.\n\nThere was another member of the party who came back to the camp just as\nthey were starting, and who drove the green van. His name was Dan, and\nhe was the brother of the man with the gold earrings, a clean-shaved\nbrown young fellow, with dark smooth hair which came forward in a flat\nlock over either ear. He wore a cap made of rabbit-skin, and he looked\nafter the two horses. Though he took little notice of Maggie she was not\nafraid of him, for he had a self-contained, serious face, and was so\ngood to the beasts that she knew he must be kind.\n\nBesides this work he did nothing in the camp. His brother was a tinman,\nbut Dan left the pots and pans alone; and it was only when the party was\nat village fairs that his talents came into play. The horse which drew\nthe smaller van and did the lighter work was a bright chestnut with a\nfine coat, which Dan groomed ceaselessly. Both animals followed him like\ndogs, and he could do whatever he pleased with the chestnut, which could\njump almost anything. When he rode him, barebacked, at the big fairs,\nthe crowd would look on open-mouthed, shouting as he cleared the hurdles\nand dropping their pence into the rabbit-skin cap when it was carried\nround. Once an ill-natured fellow had stuck a thorn into the horse\u2019s\nflank as he was led by, and Dan had blacked both his eyes before leaving\nthe fair. When the vans were settled in one place, he would often be\nabsent for days together, and nobody knew where he went.\n\nMaggie soon found out that they were making for some woods a few days\u2019\njourney off. She was very happy, for she had seen so little of the world\noutside the farmyard that every new place amused her. The woman was\nfriendly to her in her silent way when she found how careful she was of\nthe baby. Maggie soon learnt to dress and tend it; and she swept out the\nvans, lit the fires, and in the evening sat on the top step, talking to\nAlfonso and the Cochin-China cock. They were quite contented too, though\nthey did not live so well as they had done at the farm.\n\nThey travelled on, by villages and hill-sides, by moors and by roads.\nThe trees flamed with autumn, and the rose-hips were turning red. At\nlast they drew up in a grassy track which ran through an immense wood,\nwhere the sighing of the air in the fir-branches rose and fell in little\ngusts, and grey-blue wood-pigeons went flapping away down the vistas of\nstems. Maggie had never imagined such a place, and when the camp was set\nout and she lay down, tired, to sleep, she promised herself that, if she\nhad a free moment on the morrow, she would go and see more of it.\n\nIt was the next afternoon that her chance came, and off she set, looking\nback now and then, to make sure of finding her way home. How tall the\nbracken was! The bramble, that in woods keeps its living green almost\ninto the winter, trailed over the path, and there were regiments of\ntable-shaped toadstools, crimson and scarlet and brown. The rabbits fled\nat her step, diving underground into unseen burrows, and the male-fern\nstood like upright bunches of plumes. She was so much delighted by all\nthis that she went on, and on, until the sound of a voice singing to a\nstringed instrument made her stand still to listen.\n\nNot far off was another camp, much like the one she had left. There were\nseveral tents, and people were moving about; but the music came from\nclose by, on the other side of an overturned fir whose roots stood up\nlike wild arms. She stole up and peeped round the great circle of earth\nwhich the tree had torn out with it in its fall, and in which ferns and\nrough grass had sown themselves. She _was_ surprised!\n\nOn his face in the moss lay Dan, his elbows on the ground, his chin in\nhis hands. His rabbit-skin cap was pulled over his eyes, and the gold\nrings which, like his brother, he wore in his ears gleamed against his\ndark neck.\n\nA girl sat near him, playing on a little stringed instrument, such as\nMaggie had never seen before. Her voice reminded her of the\nwood-pigeons, and the twang of the strings as she struck them was both\nsharp and soft at once. The blue of her eyes and the pale pink colour of\nher cheeks made Dan look almost like an Indian by contrast with her. She\nhad ceased singing, but Maggie kept as still as possible in hopes of\nhearing some more.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a good thing I left Alfonso at home,\u201d she thought; \u201che would have\nnever stayed quiet. I won\u2019t breathe, and perhaps she\u2019ll begin again.\u201d\n\nDan was silent too, though he never took his eyes off his companion\u2019s\nlips. Soon she touched the strings again and played a few notes that\nsounded like a whisper.\n\n\u201cThis is called \u2018The Wind in the Broom,\u2019\u201d she said:\n\n          \u201c\u2018Wind, wind, in the forest tall,\n          Do you stir the broom where my lass is waiting?\n          Pale lass, in the witch\u2019s thrall\u2014\n          For the witch is by, and she may not call.\n          (O the long, long days that my lass is waiting!)\n            Gold broom, with your flowers in bloom,\n          Wave,\u2019 says the lad: \u2018it is time for mating.\u2019\n\n          \u201c\u2018Lad, lad, in the witch\u2019s wood,\n          There is no more hope when the spell is spoken;\n          Lost lad, is the sight so good\n          Of the empty place where your love has stood?\n          (O the long, long days that her heart has broken!)\n            Dead broom, be your bare pod\u2019s doom\n          Black,\u2019 says the witch, \u2018for a sign and token.\u2019\n\n          \u201c\u2018Bold broom, by the witch\u2019s door,\n          Will you hide my lad as his step steals nigher?\n          Sleep, witch, on the forest floor;\n          You are drugged by the broom-flowers\u2019 scented core.\n          (O the smouldering fumes of its golden fire!)\n            Burn, broom, in the forest\u2019s gloom,\n          Glow,\u2019 says the lass, \u2018like the heart\u2019s desire.\u2019\n\n          \u201c\u2018Wind, wind, round the witch\u2019s lair\n          There\u2019s a lad and lass that no spell can sever;\n          Sing, wind, in the broom-flowers there,\n          For you sing good-bye to an old despair.\n          (O the long, long days, that are done for ever!)\n            Gold broom, with the silken plume,\n          Laugh,\u2019 says the wind, \u2018because love dies never.\u2019\u201d\n\nMaggie was so much absorbed in the song that she came forward a little\nfrom behind the root. Though Dan had not turned his head she saw that\nhis watchful eyes were on her, and she prepared to move away. The girl\nturned round; her face was so sweet that Maggie spoke up.\n\n\u201cI was only listening to the song,\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cCome and sit beside me,\u201d said the singer. \u201cMy name is Rhoda. Who are\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s the girl from our camp,\u201d said Dan.\n\nLong after he had gone back to feed the horses Maggie sat talking to her\nnew friend. She told her all about Alfonso and the Cochin-Chinaman, and\nhow they had all run away from the farm. Though Rhoda was grown up and\ncould not understand fowls when they spoke, she listened with great\ninterest, and Maggie promised to bring the two cocks to visit her. When\nshe got home Dan was putting a rug on the chestnut horse, for the nights\nwere growing colder. He seemed to look at her with a new interest.\n\n\u201cDo you like Rhoda\u2019s songs?\u201d he asked suddenly.\n\n\u201cOh yes.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe makes them for me,\u201d said Dan.\n\n\u201cI am going to take Alfonso and the other cock to see her,\u201d continued\nMaggie. \u201cPerhaps I shall go to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I had better come with you. There are wild-cats in the wood,\u201d\nobserved Dan shortly. And he went into the green van and said no more.\n\nAfter that Maggie managed to slip away nearly every day to see her\nfriend in the other camp. Sometimes she took the birds with her, and\nsometimes she left them at home. Dan and his brother had gone off to a\nfair in the neighbourhood, which was to last several days.\n\nOne afternoon as she sat with Rhoda under the trees, a man came towards\nthem from the tents. He had a long pointed nose, and was very grandly\ndressed for a gipsy, for he wore a bright-coloured scarf and waistcoat\nand his fingers were covered with silver rings. Maggie thought him very\nnice, for he joined them and seemed to admire Alfonso very much. The\nlittle cock strutted about, ruffling himself out as the man watched him.\nHe loved notice. The gipsy threw him a handful of corn from his pocket,\nand when he went off again to the tents, he kept looking back with a\nsmile. Rhoda took up her guitar once more for she had laid it down at\nhis approach, though she was in the middle of a song.\n\n\u201cI never sing to _him_,\u201d she said.\n\nIt was a pleasant time they spent in the fir-woods, and Maggie began to\nthink there could be nothing better than life in the caravan. She loved\nthe open air and the blue mists, the silver spider webs and the winking\neyes of the little fires that were lit among the trees at night. She\nloved the whispering branches and the red toadstools and the sceptres of\ntall ragwort, that were beginning to fade as the days went by. She did\nnot want to leave the place, and, besides that, she did not want to\nleave Rhoda.\n\nBut early one morning, as she was gathering wood a little way from the\nvan, she glanced up to find Rhoda standing before her. Her guitar was\nunder her arm and a little bundle in her hand.\n\n\u201cI have come to say good-bye,\u201d said she. \u201cYes, I am going, and you must\nnot tell anybody. I can\u2019t stay any more in our camp. I shall take my\nguitar and go and make my living by singing at fairs, as I have done\nbefore. So I\u2019ve come to say good-bye to you first.\u201d\n\nMaggie was too much surprised to answer.\n\n\u201cIt is because of the man you saw,\u201d continued Rhoda, \u201cthe man I will not\nsing for. He is the richest gipsy in the country, and I hate him; but he\nloves me. My mother says I must marry him. He has given her presents of\nmoney and necklaces and fine clothes, and she has promised me to him.\nThey don\u2019t know I have gone, but by to-night I shall be miles away, and\nI will never come back. He is the most hateful man in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now I shall never see you any more!\u201d cried Maggie.\n\n\u201cOh, but I hope you will,\u201d replied Rhoda. \u201cI like you, and you like me,\nand when you are at a fair some day, you\u2019ll hear my guitar, and come and\nspeak to me and be glad to see me. You will, won\u2019t you?\u201d\n\nAnd she turned away towards the edge of the wood, and Maggie went a\nlittle distance with her.\n\n\u201cMay I tell Dan?\u201d she asked, as they parted.\n\n\u201cOh, Dan knows,\u201d said Rhoda.\n\nThen she went away through the tree-stems into the open country, and\nMaggie stood at the outskirts of the wood watching her until she\ndisappeared among the shorn fields, looking back and waving her hand.\n\nShe was sad for a long time after that. Dan said nothing of what he\nknew, and when she tried to speak to him, he got out of her way. She did\nnot even tell Alfonso or the Cochin-Chinaman what had happened; though,\nto be sure, it would have been safe enough, for, even if they had spoken\nof it, no one but herself could have understood them. Once she saw the\nrich gipsy with the evil face and silver rings prowling about the vans,\nwhich made her so frightened that she got into one of them and locked\nherself in. No one else had seen Rhoda when she came to say good-bye,\nand there was nothing to do but to keep her own counsel and hope that in\ntime she might meet her friend again.\n\nThe Cochin-China cock was as happy as possible. He did not care for high\ncompany, and the few fowls that ran about the van wheels and travelled\ntogether in a basket on the roof when the family was moving were good\nenough for him. He forgot that he had ever had a wife and family, though\nhe had wept so loudly when he left them to follow Maggie; and now he had\nchosen for a partner a young speckled hen, who was bewitched by his\nyellow trousers and deep voice.\n\nAlfonso, on the contrary, had grown prouder than ever; and when he\ndiscovered that the man with the gold earrings meant to make a deal of\nmoney by backing him to fight other cocks in public, he was extremely\nhappy. He longed for spring to come, for then the vans were to make a\ntour through many villages and towns, and he would have the chance of\nmeeting all sorts of champions in single combat. He had found this out\nthrough the Cochin-Chinaman, who was a gossip, and whose new wife told\nhim everything that went on. But Maggie knew nothing about it, for\nAlfonso would not tell her, and promised to thrash his friend if he did\nso. Alfonso knew that if anything were to happen to himself it would\nbreak her heart. Sometimes his conscience blamed him for deceiving her,\nbut he did not listen to it; it seemed to him that he heard the crowing\nof whole crowds of upstart birds, and his spurs itched.\n\nIt had grown quite cold when the time came for them to leave the woods.\nDan and Maggie were to go off in the green van at sunrise, and the woman\nwith her husband and baby were to follow after midday. Dan knew the\nplace for their next camp, and he and his companion were to get\neverything ready, and have fires lit and water carried by the time the\nfamily arrived with its belongings and the cocks and hens.\n\nIt was a pleasant journey; the roads were good and the sun shone. They\nsat with their feet on the shafts, and Dan talked more than he had ever\ntalked before. He told Maggie of his youth and the tents among which he\nwas born; of his half-Spanish mother, who had died in the cold of a\nsnowy winter; and of his father, who had beaten him with a strap till he\nhad learnt to ride better than any of the other boys. She heard how he\nand his brother got enough money to buy the van and the horses, and how\nhe had met Rhoda at a great gipsy gathering; how she had sung \u2018The Wind\nin the Broom\u2019 for him by a camp-fire when all their companions had gone\nto sleep; how they had sat till the morning came and the stars went out\nlike so many street-lamps in the daylight. Then he said very little\nmore, and sat with his cap pulled over his eyes, whistling the tune of\n\u2018The Wind in the Broom\u2019 till the journey was done.\n\nThey had come to an old quarry cut into the hollow of a hill-side. Dan\nunharnessed the horse, and they began their work. It was getting dark\nwhen they heard approaching wheels and saw their friends coming up the\nwinding road. Maggie could hear the Cochin-Chinaman\u2019s hoarse voice\nproclaiming his arrival and distinguish in the dusk the smaller basket\ntied on the top step of the van, in which Alfonso, according to custom,\ntravelled alone. The Cochin-Chinaman\u2019s wife, who was greedy, was already\nmaking a disturbance and demanding to know how soon they might expect\ntheir evening meal.\n\nIt was late by the time Maggie was able to prepare it. She turned it out\nin a heap and let the birds loose. They rushed at it, pushing and\nstruggling to get the best bits, the speckled hen screaming to her\nhusband to protect her from the other hens, and to see that she was not\nrobbed of her share. Then Maggie took Alfonso\u2019s little plate, and,\nputting a few nice spoonfuls in it, went up the van steps.\n\nBut she opened the basket and looked in, to find that Alfonso was gone.\n\n                     *      *      *      *      *\n\nThen indeed there was consternation in the camp. Maggie\u2019s tears fell\nfast and heavy down her cheeks as she sat looking into the empty basket.\nThe whole family came out at her call and stood bewailing itself in\ndifferent ways. The man with the gold earrings swore, the wife fixed her\ndark gaze on her weeping servant, and Dan hung about trying to comfort\nMaggie. But she cared for none of them, and only when the\nCochin-Chinaman hurried from his food to her side did she dry her eyes.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s gone! he\u2019s gone!\u201d she wailed, \u201cand we shall never see him again. O\nAlfonso! Alfonso! how I loved you!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe basket was fastened down when you saw it first, and that shows that\nsomeone has taken him. If he had fallen out it would have been open,\u201d\nsaid Dan.\n\n\u201cI took fine care not to let anyone see him,\u201d observed his brother; \u201che\nwas too good a bird to run risks with.\u201d\n\nAt this Maggie started up.\n\n\u201cIt is the man with the silver rings!\u201d she exclaimed\u2014\u201cthe rich gipsy in\nthe wood! Oh, it is all my fault! If it had not been for me he would\nnever have seen Alfonso.\u201d\n\nAnd that was the most cruel idea of all.\n\nThat night, when everyone was asleep, she got up and packed her bundle.\nShe was afraid to say good-bye to her friends for fear she should be\nprevented from going to seek her lost comrade, and she had made up her\nmind to leave everything and travel this difficult world till she should\nmeet him again. She was certain the wicked-looking gipsy in the wood had\nstolen him before the blue van left its last camping-ground, and she\nresolved to go back to the place where they had all been so happy, to\nsee whether, by some contrivance, she might steal him from the tents.\nPerhaps he was miserable himself, poor Alfonso! She was broken-hearted\nas she crept out of the van. She could make out the heavy figure of the\nCochin-Chinaman roosting with his wife upon a shaft. He got down and\ncame running to her, striding and sprawling with his great awkward legs.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t say a word\u2014I am going to find Alfonso,\u201d began Maggie. \u201cIf anyone\nhears me I may be stopped, and then I shall die of despair. Hush! hush!\nDon\u2019t open your beak to screech like that, or they\u2019ll all come out.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou care more for Alfonso than for me,\u201d wailed the cock, as loudly as\nhe dared. \u201cYou think nothing of bidding good-bye to me!\u201d\n\nShe could not answer, for she knew it was true. She loved Alfonso best.\n\n\u201cBut we shall both come back together, Alfonso and I,\u201d she replied. \u201cI\ncan leave you because I know you are quite happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m glad you think so,\u201d replied he. \u201cNever you marry if you want peace.\nWhat that speckled baggage has made me endure is beyond all telling!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I thought you were so comfortably married!\u201d exclaimed Maggie.\n\n\u201cOh, what I have gone through!\u201d he went on\u2014\u201cwhat I have endured! She is\nso greedy that I never get a bite. She is so violent that I have had to\ncall in help or not keep a feather on my body. And she has told all the\nothers that I left the farm we came from because I was afraid of the\nbantam cock. She has no heart and no manners\u2014only claws and a tongue!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen come with me,\u201d said Maggie. \u201cWe shall be very poor, and perhaps\nstarve, but we shan\u2019t be lonely.\u201d\n\n\u201cFamily life is dreadful,\u201d said the Cochin-Chinaman. \u201cI\u2019ll come.\u201d\n\nIt took many hours to get back to the woods, and they were both tired\nand hungry by the time they saw the long line of dark trees stretching\naway before them. Maggie had brought some food with her, which she\nshared with her friend; but they did not dare to eat much, as they had\nto make it last as long as possible. They tried not to think of their\nbad prospects as they trudged along. They did not enter the woods till\ndusk, for they knew that if the rich gipsy saw Maggie, he would guess\nwhat had brought her back, and hide Alfonso more carefully than ever.\nThey found the spot where their camp had been, and rested there a little\nbefore going into the heart of the wood. Maggie knew every step of the\nway, every clump of yellowing ferns, every trail of bramble, and the\nCochin-Chinaman, who was not observant, was glad to follow her blindly.\nWhen once they caught sight of the tents, he was to run on and prowl\nabout in the undergrowth, calling to Alfonso in his own language. As\nnobody but the gamecock would understand what he said, he was to shout,\ntelling him Maggie was there, and the two birds were to settle a way of\nescape. These were fine schemes, and would, no doubt, have succeeded\nbeautifully; but alas! and alas! when they came to the root beside which\nRhoda had sung her songs to Dan, they saw that the place was empty and\nthe tents gone. The only traces remaining of the camp were the little\nblack circles of ashes on the ground, which showed where the fires had\nbeen.\n\nIt was chilly comfort to think that, if Alfonso had been stolen only a\nday ago, the gipsy could not have gone far. He had horses and carts, and\nthere was not much chance of overtaking him for the two poor footsore\nfriends, even if they knew which way he went. It was too dark now to see\nthe traces of his wheels on the soft moss, and they could go no farther\nthat night. Nevertheless, Maggie would not give up her quest, and the\nCochin-Chinaman, great yellow booby of a fellow as he was, vowed that he\nwould never leave her. He blubbered as he said it, but he meant it, all\nthe same.\n\nWhen morning broke their hearts were very sad. Where were they to go?\nWinter was coming on, and they had no money and hardly any food, and\nunless they begged as they went, there was nothing they could do for a\nliving. But they made up their minds either to die or to rescue their\nfriend, and started at daybreak to follow the track of footprints and\nwheel-marks which took them to the dusty highroad. The cock picked up\nall sorts of odds and ends by the way, and a friendly blacksmith who was\neating bread and cheese at the door of his smithy gave Maggie a share of\nit. They slept in an empty barn that night, and the next day found them\non the outskirts of a little country town.\n\nThey were eager to get to it, hoping to hear news of the gipsy, or to\nfind his tents pitched in the neighbourhood. The cock had cut his foot\non a piece of broken glass by the roadside, and was so lame that he\ncould scarcely walk. He sat on Maggie\u2019s shoulder, but he was so heavy\nthat he prevented her from getting on fast. Sometimes she put him down,\nand he limped a little way, but she always had to take him up again.\nWhen they reached the first houses, the people ran out to look at the\namusing sight, and when they heard how the strange pair of comrades were\ntalking together, they held up their hands. \u201cWas ever anything like that\nseen before?\u201d they cried.\n\nSoon there was quite a crowd. The whole street turned out to listen,\nthough, of course, no one could understand a word. Maggie took the\nopportunity of explaining that they were very poor, and asked for some\nfood. A woman offered them a hunk of bread and a plate of broken meat,\nwhich they took gratefully.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s worth while paying for such a show!\u201d she exclaimed. And everybody\nagreed with her, though only a few were willing to put their hands in\ntheir pockets.\n\nAll at once a great clatter was heard, and a running footman came racing\nalong the road, shouting as he went and pushing people out of the way\nwith his staff.\n\n\u201cRoom! room!\u201d he cried. \u201cMake way for the Lord Bishop\u2019s carriage!\u201d\n\nA splendid open coach came in sight, drawn by four white horses with\npurple plumes on their heads and driven by a gold-laced coachman. A fine\nfat Bishop sat in it, dressed in purple. Gold tassels hung from his hat,\nand opposite to him sat a servant armed with a silk pocket-handkerchief\nwith which to flick the dust of the road from the episcopal person.\nEverybody bowed to the earth.\n\n\u201cWhat is all this crowd for?\u201d demanded the Bishop, stopping his coach.\n\nWhen he heard that a girl was to be heard talking to a Cochin-China cock\nin his native tongue, he was immensely surprised, and ordered Maggie and\nher companion to come before him. The woman who had given them meat and\nbread pushed her forward.\n\n\u201cYour Reverend Holiness will die o\u2019 laughing to hear them,\u201d she\nexclaimed.\n\n\u201cSpeak, girl,\u201d said the Bishop. \u201cAddress the bird, and tell him to\nreply.\u201d\n\nWhen he had heard the conversation that followed, he could hardly\nbelieve his senses. The servant with the silk handkerchief grinned from\near to ear, the coachman on his box turned round to listen, and the\nfootmen who stood on a board behind the carriage gaped.\n\n\u201cYou are evidently a highly intelligent little girl,\u201d said the Bishop,\n\u201cand it is a scandal that you should be tramping the roads. I have a\nlarge aviary at my palace and you shall come to look after it. I really\nnever thought to find a person who could speak to birds. Some of mine\nare very tiresome, and you will be able to make them hear reason. I will\nsee that you are properly clothed and educated.\u201d\n\nBut Maggie refused, and explained that she was going to seek Alfonso.\n\n\u201cTut, tut, tut!\u201d said the Bishop. \u201cIf the cock is as valuable as you\nsay, he will be well cared for. You will have a good education at my\npalace, and be clean and tidy.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t want to be clean and tidy, and I shouldn\u2019t like to live in\na palace,\u201d cried Maggie.\n\nAll the servants tittered.\n\n\u201c_Nonsense!_\u201d said the Bishop. \u201cEveryone wants to be clean and tidy, and\neveryone would like to live in a palace.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I can\u2019t!\u201d exclaimed Maggie\u2014\u201cindeed I can\u2019t!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no such word as \u2018can\u2019t\u2019 in the English language,\u201d said the\nBishop.\n\n\u201cCome! come!\u201d said Maggie to the Cochin-Chinaman, \u201cwe must get away as\nquick as we can!\u201d\n\nThe Bishop could not understand what she said, but he saw she was\npreparing to run.\n\n\u201cI fear you are one of the many people who do not know what is good for\nthem,\u201d said he. \u201cGet into the carriage immediately. The footmen will\nhelp you in, and you may sit opposite to me.\u201d\n\nAnd before you could count ten they had sprung from their places, opened\nthe door, and lifted her in. With a hoarse agonized screech the\nCochin-Chinaman leaped up and flew heavily into the coach. He came\nthrough the air like a cannon-ball.\n\n\u201cReally, this is too much!\u201d exclaimed the Bishop. \u201cI cannot be made\nridiculous by having this creature sitting in front of me as we go\nthrough the streets.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is the only friend I have got left,\u201d sobbed poor Maggie, bursting\ninto tears as the footmen tried to seize the cock\u2019s legs.\n\nThe Bishop was far from being an unkind man; indeed, he had a great\nreputation for charity, both public and private.\n\n\u201cTut, tut!\u201d he said; \u201clet him come. But he can\u2019t sit there opposite to\nme. Put him under the seat.\u201d\n\nAnd so Maggie, thankful to keep him at any price, stuffed him\nunderneath, and pressed her feet against him, to comfort him. The\nfootmen were inexpressibly shocked. Then they all drove off to the\npalace.\n\nThe palace was a truly imposing place, with cupolas and courts, porches\nand statues; and, being outside the town, it was approached by an avenue\na mile long. A wide stream flowed round one side of it, and the great\nentrance gates were covered with crests and glorious devices. Behind it\nwas an aviary full of bright-coloured birds, who screamed and fought and\nmade such a terrible din that, when the carriage drew up, the\nCochin-Chinaman was taken from under the seat trembling. Maggie was\nshown a hut which she was to inhabit, built in a little remote yard, and\nan old chicken-coop was brought and filled with straw to make a bed for\nthe cock. The Bishop ordered that food should be given them, and told\nMaggie she was to begin her duties on the morrow.\n\nShe did not like her place at all. The birds in the aviary were nearly\nall foreign, so she did not know their language; and those she could\nunderstand were rude and turbulent, and made the most heartless jokes\nabout the poor Cochin-Chinaman\u2019s yellow trousers. But there was no use\nin grumbling. The Bishop was determined that she should stay and look\nafter the aviary; he disapproved of vagrants and gipsies, and had\nsettled that she was to be brought up respectably. She could not get\naway, because she was never allowed to leave the place alone; so she\nconsoled herself by thinking that, as winter was at hand, she would be\nlikely to starve were she still tramping the road; and then she would\ncertainly never see Alfonso again.\n\nAnd so time went by and she lived at the palace, feeding and tending the\nforeign birds, and cheered by the company of her faithful comrade, who\ngrew fat on the crumbs from the Bishop\u2019s kitchen and took care not to\ndisplay his yellow trousers within sight of the aviary.\n\nSoon it grew bitterly cold. The snow fell, and Christmas came and went;\nand then, at last, the young New Year grew strong, and birds began to\nsing and trees to bud. The little yard in which the hut stood was\nsurrounded by an ivy-covered wall with a small iron gate in it, and\nthrough the latter she could see the ground slope down to the still,\nwide stream that passed the palace like a crawling silver snake.\n\nThe bars of the gate were firm in their places, for she had tried them\nall and they would not move; they were so closely set that she could not\nsqueeze herself out between them. She would press her face against them,\nlooking out enviously at every passing insect that was free. In the wood\nover the water squirrels jumped about, or sat up like little begging\ndogs, with their tails over their heads. The Cochin-Chinaman could fly\nout of the yard, but what was the use of that when he could not take her\nwith him? She would sit by the gate while he stood on the top of the\nwall describing to her all the things he could see.\n\nOne spring afternoon, as they passed their time thus, a sound of music\ncame floating from some distance. It was very faint, but as it drew\nnearer Maggie sprang up, crying to the cock to fly out and see what it\ncould mean.\n\nFor the tune was the tune of \u201cThe Wind in the Broom.\u201d\n\nNearer and nearer it came. She could faintly hear the words. \u201cGold\nbroom, with your flowers in bloom,\u201d sang the voice.\n\nThe cock leaped down, and, running and flying, he rushed along the green\nbanks of the stream as hard as he could. The town was behind him at the\nfar side of the palace, so he was molested by no one; and there, sure\nenough, coming to meet him at the water-side, was Rhoda with her guitar\nslung on her shoulder. Oh, how he longed to speak! but, as she could not\nunderstand his talk, there was no use in saying anything. But he took\nher by the skirts and began dragging her along.\n\n\u201cYou are Maggie\u2019s Cochin-Chinaman!\u201d she cried.\n\nHe hurried on before her, and she followed as fast as she could run.\n\nHow delighted the two friends were at meeting again! Rhoda stood outside\nthe gate, and Maggie held her hand through the bars, and they told each\nother all that had happened since they parted.\n\n\u201cI will get you away from here, see if I don\u2019t!\u201d said Rhoda. \u201cThen we\nwill start off together to find Alfonso, for I can make enough to keep\nus all by singing. I am quite rich already.\u201d She pulled a little bag out\nof her bosom.\n\n\u201cFeel how heavy it is,\u201d she said.\n\nAt last Rhoda went away. She said that she would not return till she had\nthought of a good plan for Maggie\u2019s escape, and she commanded the cock\nto roost every night on the yard wall; for she would come back under\ncover of night, and wake him by throwing up a stone at him when her plan\nwas ready.\n\nRhoda was very clever\u2014the making of songs and music was not the only\nthing she understood. When she found that the iron gate was fastened by\na bolt, and that the bolt was held in its place by a padlock, she went\noff to the town and bought a file, and next night she returned and began\nto saw away. She did it from the outside, so that no one who might\nchance to come into the yard could see any mark on the bolt. When\nmorning came it was cut through all but a little piece. Up the stream, a\nshort way above the palace, was a house whose walls stood almost in the\nwater, and near it a little boat was moored to a stake in the bank. This\nboat she determined should carry them all out of the Bishop\u2019s reach.\n\nOn the second night, therefore, when it was dark, and she guessed the\npalace people were in bed, she came stealing along to the gate. There\nwas the cock at his post, fast asleep. When she had filed through the\nlast bit of the bolt, she woke him with a stone, and signed to him to go\nand fetch Maggie. Then she ran to the boat, cut its rope with her knife,\nand, jumping into it, rowed quickly down to where her friends were\nwaiting.\n\nHow smoothly and how fast the water carried them along, as they ran into\nthe current and the tall mass of the palace dropped behind them! Rhoda\nhad the oars, and the cock sat in the bottom of the boat beside the\nguitar. Maggie was so much delighted to be free that she did not speak a\nword. The fields and the alder-trees slipped by, and when the spring day\nbroke, she saw the tufts on the willows and the yellow stars of the\ncelandines shining among the roots. She felt quite sure now that\neverything would go right.\n\nThe whole day they rowed on, and when they thought themselves far enough\nfrom the Bishop to be safe, they jumped on shore and let the boat drift\nout of sight. Then they started off to seek their fortunes once more.\n\nIt was a hard life they led as they roamed the country, but they were\ncontented with it. They got enough money to keep themselves from want by\nRhoda\u2019s singing, and the cock contrived to pick up many scraps by the\nway. They went to every village they saw, and every town; at every fair\nor market they were to be seen, Rhoda with her guitar and Maggie\nsearching up and down for news of the rich gipsy and his tents. As the\nmonths went by she began to despair, but she never faltered or forgot\nAlfonso.\n\nOne day they were approaching a little hamlet, and, as they were within\nsight of its roofs, groups of people passed them. Men wore their best\ncoats and women their best gowns; little children ran along with holiday\nfaces, and horses and cattle went by in droves. The horses had their\ntails plaited up with coloured ribbons, and some had roses stuck in\ntheir brow-bands, for it was the day of a great fair and all sorts of\nshows and amusements were going on.\n\nThe road was full of people. Just in front of Rhoda and Maggie some men\nwere plodding along, laughing and joking, and one of them turned round,\ncalling to another, who lagged behind the party.\n\n\u201cCome on! come on!\u201d he shouted. \u201cYou\u2019ll have to step out if you want to\nsee the cock-fight.\u201d\n\nMaggie followed at their heels like a dog. They thought she meant to beg\nand told her roughly to go away. But she took no notice, and ran after\nthem, listening breathlessly to their talk, for they were speaking of\nthe wonderful game-bird belonging to a gipsy who had beaten every cock\nin the countryside. To-day he was to fight the greatest champion of all,\na bird which had been brought fifty miles to meet him. One of the men\npulled out a large silver watch the size of an apple. It came up from\nhis pocket like a bucket out of a well.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019re too late!\u201d he exclaimed.\n\nAnd they all began to run.\n\nMaggie and Rhoda ran too. And the Cochin-Chinaman straddled and flapped\nafter them, raising a trail of dust and volleys of abuse from everyone\nhe passed.\n\nBy the time they reached the village a great crowd were dispersing in\nall directions. It was chiefly made up of men, and, as our friends\npushed through the throng, scraps of conversation came to their ears.\n\n\u201c_He\u2019ll_ never fight again,\u201d said one.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019ll take down the pride of that gipsy fellow, with his money-bags\nand his rings,\u201d said another.\n\nMaggie ran faster and faster till she came to an open space that had\nbeen cleared in the middle of the village green. A man was walking off\nwith a cock in his arms, while a string of people followed, clapping him\non the back and shouting. They were all leaving the spot where the\nlong-nosed gipsy stood staring at something that lay at his foot. It\nlooked like a bundle of rags as he rolled it over with his boot. \u201cHe\u2019s\nno more use to me,\u201d said he, turning away with a shrug of his shoulders,\n\u201cso he can die if he likes.\u201d\n\nMaggie threw herself down and took poor Alfonso in her arms. Blood was\noozing from between his beautiful feathers, and his eyes were closed.\nNobody noticed her as she carried him away, followed by Rhoda and the\nCochin-Chinaman. Her tears were falling thick on him, blinding her, so\nthat she could hardly see where she was going, and she almost ran into a\ndark young man who was coming towards them. It was Dan\u2014Dan, with his\ngold earrings and rabbit-skin cap. Rhoda poured out the story of their\nsearch to him, and he took them to a pond, where he poured water down\nAlfonso\u2019s throat and felt his breast to see if his heart was still\nbeating.\n\n\u201cRun and meet my brother,\u201d he said to Rhoda; \u201cour vans are just coming\ninto the village. Tell him from me to go and settle with that long-nosed\nthief. I\u2019ll come and help him when I see whether Alfonso\u2019s dead or not.\u201d\n\nSo Rhoda ran.\n\nAnd now we are coming to the end of the story. Alfonso was not dead, and\nhe did not die; he was nursed back to life by Dan and Maggie; but he\nnever fought again, for his back was dreadfully injured, and he was lame\nfor the rest of his days. The three friends returned to their old life\nin the vans, for Maggie had been much missed, and was received back with\njoy. Neither was Rhoda left behind, because she soon became Dan\u2019s wife\nand went to live with him in the green van.\n\nThe Cochin-Chinaman married again, but this time with better luck; for\nhe chose a good dame of suitable age, who knew the world far too well to\nwish to quarrel with anyone in it.\n\nAnd Alfonso, in spite of his crippled body, was not unhappy. He limped\nround the van wheels or sat in his basket on the step, looking out on\nthe green woods and blue distances of their various places of sojourn.\nHis fighting days were done, but he was well content; for those who have\ntaken their share in life are those who can best bear to see it go by\nand accept their rest.\n\n\n\n\n                          THE FIDDLING GOBLIN\n\n\nOne day they were in the miller\u2019s garden. He had white rose-bushes on\neither side of his door and a box-tree by the gate.\n\n\u201cHere is the book!\u201d cried little Peter, who had dashed into the house,\nand now came dancing out with the volume in his hand. \u201cI\u2019ve been peeping\ninside, and there is such a fine bit about a man beating a big drum.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou rascal!\u201d said the miller. \u201cWho told you you might touch my book? I\nshall put you into the mill-pond for that!\u201d\n\nAnd he began to chase the little boy about, shouting and jumping over\nthe flower-beds. It was really splendid.\n\nJanet stood by laughing.\n\n\u201cBe quiet, Peter, or you\u2019ll drop the book!\u201d she exclaimed.\n\n\u201cIf he promises to read about the drum-man I\u2019ll be as quiet as a mouse,\u201d\nshrieked Peter.\n\n\u201cI promise, I promise,\u201d said the miller, stopping beside a row of\ncabbages.\n\nSo when Peter gave him the book and had settled down to listen, he\nbegan.\n\nThere was once upon a time a widowed Baron who had a lovely daughter.\nShe was so beautiful that she seldom went out of the castle gates,\nbecause people stared at her so much that it made her quite\nuncomfortable. Her name was Laurine, and she could dance so wonderfully\nthat she looked more like an autumn leaf sailing in the wind than a\nhuman being. Her chestnut hair floated all round her, and her grey eyes\nshone like stars through a mist.\n\nNow, in spite of all this, the Baron, who was only her stepfather, was\nmost anxious to get rid of her by marriage, for he was a lazy old man,\nand did not like the trouble of looking after her; he liked to have his\nown house to himself. He let this be known far and wide, and the very\ngreatest Princes and gentlemen came courting Laurine, which gave him\nmore trouble than ever, for she persisted in refusing every one, and the\nexpenses of their entertainment went, consequently, for nothing.\n\nAt last he could stand it no longer, and one morning, after a whole\nbatch of suitors had been turned away, he sent for her to his room. He\nwas sitting up in bed looking frightfully angry, and when she came in he\nroared and beat his cane on the bed-clothes. He always took it to bed\nwith him, so that he might bang the servants if they made too much noise\nwhen they called him in the morning.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, sir?\u201d asked Laurine, making a very pretty curtsey.\n\n\u201cMatter!\u201d shouted the Baron; \u201cthe matter is that I\u2019m tired of you and\nyour airs, and I have made up my mind to stand them no longer. Married\nyou shall be. I am going to give out a notice to be posted up everywhere\nthat, in ten days from now, the first twelve gentlemen who send in their\nnames to me are to come here, bringing a musical instrument each; and\nthe one who plays best shall have your hand in marriage. Now, it\u2019s no\ngood crying. I have made up my mind, and the messenger carrying the news\nshall go out to-day. You have had the choice of all the grandest persons\nin the country, and now you must just take what you can get. So get out\nof my sight!\u201d\n\nAnd he laid about so furiously that Laurine burst into tears. This time\nshe was at her wits\u2019 end, and could not think what to do.\n\n\u201cOh, my lady!\u201d said her maid when she heard what had happened, \u201cyou must\nget advice from a Goblin I know. He is the cleverest person in the whole\ncountryside, and he will be able to find some way out of it. Only say\nthe word, and I will go at once to fetch him.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo! go!\u201d cried Laurine.\n\nNow, in a wood not far off lived a Goblin who was well known to his\nneighbours as one of the finest musicians in the world. He was rich too,\nand it was said that he had a grander house than the King himself hidden\nin the heart of the wood. But, for all that, he generally chose to live\nin a little thatched hut near the edge of the trees, playing on his\nfiddle and coming occasionally into the village, where he was greatly\nhonoured for his wisdom in spite of his strange appearance. He was only\nabout four feet high and quite black; but he had thin legs and arms, a\nround, fat body and a head like a turnip. In spite of this he dressed in\nthe very height of the fashion, with a pointed hat and feather, doublet\nand hose and a short cloak. He was called \u2018The Fiddling Goblin.\u2019\n\nHe entered Laurine\u2019s presence with a low bow, though he was rather out\nof breath; for when he had received the message from the waiting-woman,\nhe had made the large billy-goat which he rode gallop the whole way. It\nwas a magnificent animal, with an action like a horse, and the men who\ntook charge of it when he dismounted in the courtyard were lost in\nadmiration of his handsome saddlery. It was easy to see he was a man of\nnote.\n\n\u201cWhat you must do is this,\u201d said the Goblin, when Laurine had finished\nher story: \u201cAs soon as you hear the names of the twelve suitors, write\nprivately to each one. I will compose the letter for you, and this is\nwhat you must say:\n\n    \u2018SIR,\n\n    \u2018Being extremely anxious for your success\u2014, I am writing to\n    give you a piece of important advice. My stepfather has offered\n    my hand to the finest musician; but his _real_ purpose is to\n    give it to the one who will play loudest and longest, and most\n    effectually drown the efforts of the rest. Therefore, I beg you,\n    if you love me, to play stoutly against all others, and,\n    whatever anyone may say or do, neither stay nor stop till you\n    have silenced them all.\u2019\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d continued the Goblin, \u201cthe noise will be so frightful that the\nillustrious Baron, who is irritable, will drive the whole party out of\nthe house, and meanwhile you can escape in the turmoil. If you will come\nto my hut I will take you to a palace I have, deep in the wood, where\nyou can hide till his wrath is over.\u201d\n\nLaurine was charmed with his wisdom, and having given him a lock of her\nhair as a keepsake, dismissed him with many words of gratitude,\npromising to do exactly as he had said.\n\nNow, it happened that there lived at some little distance off a young\nman of good parentage who had fallen madly in love with Laurine. He was\nbrave and handsome, but he was so poor that he had never come forward as\na suitor, believing that the Baron would not so much as receive him.\nWhen he heard of the proclamation he tore his hair.\n\n\u201cWhat a chance I\u2019ve missed!\u201d he cried. \u201cIf I could play even a\nshepherd\u2019s pipe I would go. But I cannot so much as do that.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have got ten days to learn in,\u201d said a friend of his, who was\npractical.\n\nSo he bought a pipe and began to take lessons from the man who kept the\nsheep, and one day when he was practising Laurine\u2019s letter was brought\nto him. He was simply overjoyed.\n\n\u201cI may be a poor musician!\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cbut I have the strongest arm\nfor miles round, and now it will stand me in good stead!\u201d\n\nAnd with that he rushed off to the nearest town and bought a big drum,\nthe biggest that could be got for money; and, going into a solitary\nfield, he laid about it daily, for practice, with such effect that\npeople for miles round were deafened.\n\nWhen the great day came, Laurine sat in state beside her stepfather and\nall the musicians were ranged in a row a little way in front of them.\nThere were fiddles and flutes, trumpets and harps, dulcimers and guitars\nand the big drum in the middle.\n\nWhen the Baron had taken his seat, he made a sign to a man who had a\nlarge golden harp to begin. But no sooner was the first chord struck\nthan the whole assembly burst into sound with a stupendous crash. The\nfiddlers sawed their fiddles as though they would cut them to pieces,\nthe trumpeters blew and brayed, the flutes shrieked, the harps and\ndulcimers twanged, and the young man with the drum fell upon it as\nthough it had been his enemy. The Baron leaped up and roared for\nsilence, but his voice might have been the cooing of a distant dove for\nall the good it did. The noise grew more and more terrible, and at the\nfirst convenient opportunity Laurine put her hands over her ears and\nrushed from the hall.\n\nAway she ran through the courtyard. It was empty, because everybody had\ngone to see what the awful disturbance could mean, and the castle gates\nwere open. She flew out like an arrow, taking the shortest way to the\nwood and rushing along with her hair streaming behind her, and at last\nshe came to the hut where the Goblin lived; she never stopped till she\ngot safely into it.\n\n\u201cDid I not give you sound advice?\u201d said he as she sat down, breathless.\n\n\u201cOh, excellent,\u201d she replied, panting. \u201cBy this time I am sure my\nstepfather has driven the whole lot out of doors.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now I must hide you away,\u201d said the Fiddling Goblin, stepping out\nof the door and searching the country up and down with his rolling eye.\n\nAs soon as she had recovered her breath they plunged into the wood. Dusk\nwas beginning to fall, for the musical competition had taken place late\nin the evening. At last they came to a place where there was nothing but\nhorse-chestnut trees in full bloom. The Goblin struck his heel upon the\nground, and, to Laurine\u2019s astonishment, the white flowers of the\nchestnuts on either side became suddenly lit up, looking like so many\nblazing candles on so many Christmas trees.\n\nThe avenue of light stretched away before them, narrowing to the\ndistance, and when they had walked to the end of it, they found\nthemselves in front of a magnificent mansion with a high steep roof\ncovered with golden weathercocks. \u201cThis is my house,\u201d observed the\nGoblin, \u201cand here you will be a welcome guest for as long as you like.\nNo one can find the path to it unless I light up the horse-chestnut\ncandles to show the way, so you will be perfectly safe from your\nstepfather.\u201d\n\nWhen the door was opened Laurine found herself in a beautiful hall.\nThere were golden staircases, woven curtains, groves of myrtle-trees in\npots; and servants came from every corner of the place to wait upon her.\nThe Fiddling Goblin told her to use everything as though it were her\nown, and then left her, promising to return upon the morrow.\n\nWe must now return to the Baron\u2019s castle, and hear what happened after\nLaurine\u2019s flight.\n\nThe noise went on without intermission: the more the Baron raved, the\nmore furiously the musicians played. It seemed as though the howling\ndeep and all the thunder of the firmament were let loose together. The\nair was alive with vibration and everyone rushed about in terror, as\nthough he were crazy. As the pandemonium grew the young man with the big\ndrum began to be depressed, for the sound of his drum was getting\nswallowed up in the shrill blare of the trumpets. But he set his teeth\nand went on harder and harder, and at last he struck it with such\nviolence that it broke in two and the drumstick went right through at\none end and came out at the other.\n\nThere was no use in going on any more; he was vanquished, and all hope\nof winning the beautiful Laurine was gone. In despair he threw the\nremaining drumstick to the farther end of the hall and strode out of the\ncastle to avoid his sad thoughts and the terrific noise that still\nraged. Once clear of the place, he sat down on a stone, and, burying his\nhead in his hands, thought of all he had lost. He determined to leave\nthe country and seek his fortune far away from the scene of his\ndisappointment; so when he got up, he walked straight forward, without\ncaring where he went, and soon found himself on the edge of a wood. It\nwas growing dark, and he wandered on, meaning to take the first shelter\nthat offered itself for the night.\n\nA little way on was a thatched hut, and when he saw that the door was\nopen and the place empty, he went in. He scarcely troubled to look\nabout, he was so weary, and soon he threw himself down full-length on\nthe hearth and fell asleep.\n\nIt was about midnight when he awoke with a start and saw the Fiddling\nGoblin sitting on a chair by the fire, preparing to tune his violin. He\narose at once, and began to apologize to him for his presence.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t mention it,\u201d said the Goblin, \u201cand pray sit down again. I will\nplay you a tune upon the fiddle.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, anything but that!\u201d cried the young man, leaping up in horror. \u201cI\nhave heard so much noise to-day that the very sight of any musical\ninstrument is death to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are one of the suitors who came to play before the Baron for\nthe hand of the beautiful Laurine!\u201d exclaimed the Goblin.\n\n\u201cI am indeed,\u201d replied he, \u201cand why I am not dead I don\u2019t know.\u201d And\nthen he told him the whole story. They talked almost till daybreak.\n\nNow, as the Goblin listened he began to like the young man, and as he\nsaw how brave and handsome he looked, he had a mind to help him; for he\nthought the best thing that could happen to Laurine would be to get such\na fine fellow for a husband.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t despair,\u201d said he, at the end of the history. \u201cI think I can do\nyou a good turn, for I must tell you that Laurine is at my big house not\nfar from here at this moment. Does she know you by sight?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hardly think so,\u201d replied the young man. \u201cI have often watched her as\nshe walks abroad, but I don\u2019t think she has ever noticed me. There was\nsuch a crowd in the hall while the music went on, and such a turmoil,\nthat, as I was behind the drum, it is likely she never saw me at all.\nAnd yet she wrote to me as if she had every wish I should succeed. I\ncan\u2019t understand it.\u201d\n\nThe Goblin looked so sly that it was frightful to see him.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d he continued, \u201cto-morrow I am going to my house, and she will be\nthere. If you have a mind for it, I will take you with me, and you will\nthen have the chance of making yourself agreeable.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are too kind!\u201d cried his companion; \u201cbut on what pretext can I\nintrude on her? She has probably repented of her letter.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs she does not know you by sight, I will say you are my nephew,\u201d\nreplied the Goblin; \u201cso mind you call me \u2018uncle.\u2019 You can address me as\nUncle Sackbut. We are a musical family, and all named after instruments.\nOne of my brothers is called Shawm and the other Hautboy. What is your\nname?\u201d\n\n\u201cSwayn,\u201d said the young man.\n\n\u201cVery well, Nephew Swayn,\u201d said the Goblin, \u201cto-morrow we will set out.\u201d\n\nWhen they arrived at the Goblin\u2019s house, Swayn was astonished at its\nmagnificence; but he had no time to think of anything but Laurine, and\nto hope that, if she had ever seen him, she would not recognize him. He\ncould not imagine why she had not so much as looked his way after\nwriting such a condescending letter. But the Goblin bade him keep up\nheart, and in they went.\n\nShe was sitting among the myrtles when they approached, and the Goblin\nintroduced his friend, being careful not to mention his name.\n\n\u201cThis is my nephew,\u201d said he, \u201cmy sister\u2019s only son. He has come to pay\nme a visit, and as I have no room for him in my hut, I propose that we\nshall both keep you company here.\u201d\n\nLaurine received them in the most charming manner, and so much pleased\nwas the Goblin that he spent all day in practising his fiddle, so that\nthe young people should be left together. In this manner two whole weeks\nwent by. They spent a delightful time, and Swayn grew more hopeful every\nday. They strolled in the gardens, they hunted in the woods, and it was\nevident that Laurine looked upon him with great favour.\n\nOne morning he and the Goblin were together on a terrace where there was\na little green arbour.\n\n\u201cSwayn,\u201d said the Goblin, \u201cit is high time that you asked Laurine to\nmarry you. I think so well of you that I mean to leave you this house\nwhen I die, though you are not my nephew at all; and while I live you\ncan stay here with me, whether you have a wife or not.\u201d\n\n\u201cUncle Sackbut,\u201d said Swayn, \u201cI can hardly believe such good fortune!\nHow little I thought when I threw away my drumstick and left the Baron\u2019s\ncastle what luck was in store for me!\u201d\n\nAt this moment there was a movement in the arbour, and Laurine, who was\nin it and had heard every word they said, came rushing out.\n\n\u201cAnd so you are not the Goblin\u2019s nephew at all?\u201d she cried. \u201cAnd you are\none of those horrible musicians who came to play? I will go away at\nonce!\u201d she shrieked. \u201cI will never see you again! I will not stay here\nanother hour!\u201d\n\nThen she turned to the Goblin. \u201cGood-bye,\u201d she said. \u201cNever, never will\nI forgive you for deceiving me!\u201d\n\nAnd, before they could stop her, she had rushed out of the garden into\nthe wood.\n\nThey ran after her, they shouted, they called, they implored\u2014nothing\nwas of any use. She fled so swiftly that they could not even see which\npath she had taken. At last, after a long time, they gave up the search.\nThey felt very much crestfallen.\n\n\u201cWe shall never see her again, I fear,\u201d said the Goblin; \u201cshe has gone\nback to the Baron\u2019s castle, and the best thing we can do is to try and\nthink of something else. We have made a terrible mess of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs for me,\u201d said Swayn, \u201cit is not so easy to think of something else\nas you fancy. I shall go off and try to better my fortunes elsewhere.\nWhat I am to do I don\u2019t know. It is a sad thing that I am a gentleman,\nfor I have learnt no trade, and now, though I have every will to work,\nthere is nothing I can do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a good mind to come with you,\u201d remarked the Goblin. \u201cI can\nalways return here if I get tired of it, and we can pass for uncle and\nnephew still. I\u2019ll take my fiddle, and we will make our living by it.\nYou can play the drum.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey won\u2019t go well together,\u201d said Swayn moodily.\n\n\u201cWhat of that?\u201d cried the Goblin. \u201cVery few people have any ear for\nmusic. You\u2019ll see\u2014they\u2019ll be delighted, and pay us well.\u201d\n\nSo next day the two comrades set out together. The Goblin locked up his\nhouse, put his fiddle in a bag, and when Swayn had procured a new drum,\nthey left the wood by its farther edge and made for the boundary of the\nkingdom, which was not far off.\n\nAt the first village they came to they determined to try their luck, so,\nhaving found the village green, the Fiddling Goblin mounted the steps of\nthe market-cross, and struck up with his bow, while Swayn, at a little\ndistance, kept time with the drum. Soon figures began to appear at every\ndoor, and women left their houses and men their work; children came\ncapering up, and everybody\u2019s feet could be seen tapping the ground. When\nthe Goblin at the market-cross saw that, he stood on tiptoe, and looking\nround with a shout, burst into the fastest country dance he could think\nof. In one moment the whole crowd was stamping, chass\u00e9ing, and\npirouetting to the music, seizing one another round the waist, and\nswaying like corn in the wind. On and on they played, till the Goblin\nhad lost his hat and Swayn\u2019s arm ached, and the people were whirling\nround in fours and sixes together instead of in couples. It was as if\nthe whole world had gone mad. When at last the Goblin stopped and signed\nto his friend to go round and ask for money, it poured in so handsomely\nthat they were able to go to the nearest inn and take the best lodgings\nto be got.\n\nWhen they looked out next morning, there was a crowd under their\nwindows.\n\n\u201cCome out! come out!\u201d cried the people. \u201cCome out and play!\u201d Their feet\nwere going already at the very recollection of the music.\n\nSo the friends set up again at the market-cross and played as they had\ndone before; and from far and wide, people, hearing of their fame, came\npouring into the village to dance. No work was done, and none of the\nchildren were sent to school, for their parents were too busy dancing to\nattend to the matter. Besides which, the schoolmaster had taken to his\nbed, having sprained his ankle in hopping and skipping.\n\n\u201cWe must depart,\u201d said the Goblin, \u201cor everyone will go crazy.\u201d\n\nSo they rose in the night and made off, while the world was snoring\nafter its exertions. They went travelling on towards a great city, and\nat each village they made enough money to lodge well; but they were\nalways obliged to leave secretly in the night, because the people would\nnever consent to their departure.\n\nWhen they got to the capital their fame had run before them, and even\nthe very King and Queen were at the palace windows to see them arrive.\nBy twelve o\u2019clock next day the Lord Mayor and his family had made\nthemselves so ridiculous by the way in which they had kicked their legs\nabout that the King was displeased, and ordered the music and dancing to\nbe stopped. He could not hear the music himself, because his business\nroom was in the centre of the palace, and the walls were thick.\n\nBut when the decree went out, there rose such a howl of rage that the\nCourt feared a rebellion. People were rushing about in bands, crying:\n\u201cDown with the King! Down with the palace! Down with everybody! Hurray\nfor the Fiddling Goblin! Three cheers for the Big Drum!\u201d\n\nThe end of it was that the soldiers were called out, and Swayn and the\nGoblin were thrown into prison. The Lord Mayor, whose antics had done so\nmuch harm, took charge of the drum and the fiddle and locked them up in\nthe town-hall, and peace reigned once more.\n\nAnd now we must hear something of what happened to Laurine when she ran\naway from the Goblin\u2019s house in such a hurry.\n\nShe found it very difficult to get free of the wood, but she did so at\nlast, and, by good fortune, came out on the side nearest to her\nstepfather\u2019s castle. But when she arrived there the first thing she saw\nwas the Baron himself looking out of a high window. At the sight of her\nhe began to shout with fury and to beat the window-sill with his cane,\njust as he had beaten the bed-clothes.\n\n\u201cOff!\u201d he roared, \u201chussy that you are! I have done with you. I have\nfound out all about you. Not content with being the plague of my life,\nyou encouraged all these knaves to break my head with their detestable\nnoise, and I have been at death\u2019s door ever since. Off you go, or I will\nlet loose the dogs! You will soon see what a mistake you have made in\nrefusing all these husbands, for you will have to get your own living as\nbest you can.\u201d\n\nAnd he drew in his head, banging the window till the iron bars rattled.\n\nLaurine turned to go, trembling, for she could hear the dogs which were\nkept to chase away beggars howling inside the gates. She dared not even\nbeg a piece of bread from the servants, and she knew she could never\nfind her way back to the Goblin\u2019s house.\n\nShe turned sadly away and wandered on till sundown, when a charitable\npeasant-woman in a village shared her supper with her, and allowed her\nto rest in a barn when night came on. But Laurine could not sleep for\nthinking how she was to save herself from starving and what she could do\nto earn enough to keep herself alive. If she were to offer to work as a\nservant, people would laugh at her white hands and delicate ways.\n\nThe next day, before she departed, she thanked the woman, and said: \u201cNow\nI will do something to amuse you and your children, for it is all the\npayment I can make.\u201d\n\nAnd so saying, she began to dance.\n\nNever had anybody seen anything like her dancing; the village people\nthought she must be a fairy and were almost afraid to go near her. She\ngathered up her hair in both hands, whirling it round and round her like\na scarf; her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground. It was wonderful.\nEveryone came to look on.\n\nIt so chanced that there passed by a fine chariot, in which sat a\nred-faced, crooked old lady, very grandly dressed; and when the dame\nbeheld the crowd, she let down her window and shouted to her coachman to\nstop, that she might see the dancing. At the end of the performance she\nthrew Laurine a purse.\n\n\u201cHere, girl!\u201d she cried, \u201cthat is for you if you will come with me. I am\ngoing to give a great feast to-morrow night, and want some new\nentertainment for my guests. Get in quickly, if you have a mind to come,\nfor I can\u2019t waste any more time here. The whole of the nobility are\ncoming to the party, and I have a great deal to arrange.\u201d\n\nLaurine picked up the purse, thankful for such luck, and they drove away\nto the nearest city.\n\nAs soon as they got there, Laurine, who was determined to do her best,\ntook some gold pieces from the purse and went out to see the merchants\u2019\nwares. She bought the most beautiful dress that could be got for money,\na girdle of jasmine, a long veil covered with spangles and a pair of\ngolden shoes. Then she came back and practised all the steps she could\nthink of, so as to be perfect in them by evening.\n\nThe feast was gorgeous. Several Kings came to it, and even one aged\nEmperor, who was so much startled by the thunder of applause that he was\ncarried out for dead. The dancing was the talk of the city from end to\nend, and the only dreadful part of it was that the lady who had given\nthe entertainment grew jealous because no one talked of her and her\nhospitality, while every tongue was wagging about the lovely dancer.\n\nBut Laurine cared very little; she knew that her fortune was made, and\nshe determined to leave the place and travel about, dancing at the\nvarious towns through which she passed. When she had taken leave of the\nlady she set out.\n\nWherever she went, crowds came to see her dance and criers went before\nher to tell people what a treat was in store for them. Her stepfather,\nhearing news of her success, sent a messenger after her, commanding her\nto return, for he wished to share in her grandeur; but she only laughed,\nand pursued her way.\n\nAt last she drew near the capital city in which Swayn and the Goblin\nwere imprisoned, and the whole place was in a shiver of excitement at\nher approach. When she got there a deputation waited on her, bringing\nall the town musicians with it, that she might chose the best among them\nto play for her dancing.\n\nOne after another, she refused them all. There was not one she\nconsidered good enough to be of any use; and she grew quite impatient,\nsaying she would depart next day without dancing at all unless something\nvery much better could be found.\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d said the Lord Mayor, \u201cit is quite true we have nobody fit to\naccompany your ladyship, except a young man and a Goblin, who are,\nunfortunately, in prison; but if we could get the King to release them\nso that they could play for you, they could be put back into prison\nafterwards quite easily.\u201d\n\nSo the heads of the city appealed to the King, and as the King was\nextremely anxious to see Laurine, he made no difficulty about the\nmatter.\n\n\u201cCertainly, certainly,\u201d said he; \u201cyou can release the Goblin and his\nnephew at once. We can always execute them if they are troublesome\nafterwards.\u201d\n\nAnd so Swayn and his pretended uncle were taken out of prison and set to\nplay in the courtyard of the house where Laurine lodged, that she might\njudge of their talents.\n\n\u201cThat will do beautifully,\u201d said she. \u201cI will dance at nine o\u2019clock this\nevening.\u201d\n\nBut she did not think of looking out of the window.\n\nNine o\u2019clock came, and the crowd was assembled; and when she saw who the\nmusicians were, she was almost too much annoyed and astonished to begin.\nBut there sat the King with the Queen in her best robes, and all the\nlords of the kingdom, and she was not sure that they would not throw her\ninto prison too were she to disappoint them. So she gave a sign to the\nGoblin to strike up, and, whirling her spangled veil, began to glide\nabout like the shadows on a windy moonlit night.\n\n[Illustration: \u201cWHIRLING HER SPANGLED VEIL, SHE BEGAN TO GLIDE ABOUT.\u201d]\n\nBy the time she had finished, the whole court was spellbound and she\nherself almost in tears from excitement, the Goblin had played so\nrapturously. Gold was showered upon her, flowers were thrown to her in\nbasketfuls, and the King whipped off his crown, dug out the biggest ruby\nwith his pocket-knife, and presented it to her himself.\n\n\u201cNow then!\u201d cried the head of the police to the Goblin, \u201cback to prison\nwith you! And tell that fierce-looking nephew of yours to go quietly, or\nit will be the worse for him!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you will come with me as my musician,\u201d said Laurine, \u201cI will beg the\nKing on my knees to let you go. I have never danced to such playing in\nmy life. Will you come?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot without Swayn,\u201d said the Goblin.\n\n\u201cBut I hate the drum,\u201d said Laurine.\n\n\u201cThen he need not play it,\u201d replied he.\n\n\u201cAnd I don\u2019t want _him_,\u201d continued Laurine.\n\n\u201cIt is both or neither,\u201d said the Goblin.\n\n\u201cOh, very well, then,\u201d said she, turning away. \u201cHe can come as my\nservant.\u201d\n\nSo she went to the King the very next day, and the King, seeing an\nexcellent chance of getting rid of the prisoners without the expenses of\nan execution, consented.\n\nSo the Lord Mayor gave the Goblin back his fiddle, and the three set out\non their travels together.\n\n\u201cUncle Sackbut tells me that you object to the drum,\u201d said Swayn to\nLaurine, \u201cso I\u2019ll leave it behind, and I shall have all the more time to\nattend upon you.\u201d\n\nCertainly he made a most valuable servant. He cleaned her little gold\nshoes, he robbed all the jasmine-bushes to make her girdles, and when\nanyone annoyed her, he looked so big and fierce that people were only\ntoo glad to get out of the way.\n\nThey travelled about for a whole year, and Laurine was beginning to be\ntired of such a restless life. When they came to a grim-looking town\nbuilt on a rushing river, she made up her mind to dance there for the\nlast time; for the Goblin had begged her to return with him to his house\nin the wood, and she had promised to do so. Swayn was to come too, for\nthere was no doubt that it was impossible to get on without him.\n\n\u201cPatience,\u201d said the Goblin to him, \u201cand all will come right.\u201d\n\n\u201cPatience is a long word,\u201d replied Swayn.\n\nAs they approached the town gates a crowd of sour-looking men came out\nto meet them with fierce eyes and frowning faces.\n\n\u201cYou need not come here, thinking to bewitch us with light ways and\nmountebank tricks,\u201d they said to Laurine. \u201cWe have heard about you, and\nwe know that you are a witch!\u201d\n\n\u201cA witch! a witch!\u201d they shouted.\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d cried someone in the crowd, \u201cshe has even got a Goblin for her\nmusician!\u201d\n\nThen they all began to cry \u201cWitch! witch!\u201d at the top of their voices,\ntill she could hardly hear herself speak. And in a moment they had\nsurrounded her and were dragging her away.\n\nOh! how the poor Goblin stamped and raved! but, unfortunately, he was\ntoo small to hurt anyone much. Swayn began knocking down everybody he\ncould reach, but there were so many that he was soon overpowered.\n\n\u201cIt is the witch we want! It is the witch we want!\u201d cried the people.\n\nThe crowd turned back to the town. Some seized Laurine by the wrists,\nand some by her long hair, and the rest held her companions while they\nhurried her through the city gates, leaving them outside. Then the doors\nwere locked, and they lost sight of her.\n\nAs Laurine was dragged along the streets, a very good idea came into her\nhead. She was quite sure that, by hook or by crook, Swayn would try to\nrescue her, so she managed to pluck the flowers from her jasmine girdle,\nand to drop them behind her as she went, that he might see which way she\nhad gone; and when there were no more left, she plucked off the leaves,\nand dropped them too. Just when the very last leaf was gone, they came\nto a little stone cell built by the parapet of the city wall, where it\nwas low and overlooked the river. Into this dreadful place they thrust\nher, turning the key in the great lock, and calling to her that they\nwould come in the morning to drown her in the water below. One man was\nleft to stand outside and guard the door, and he tied the large key to\nhis belt.\n\nIt was quite dark in the cell, for only a little light could come in at\na barred window, whose sill she could just reach by standing on tiptoe.\nPoor Laurine wept bitterly when she thought that she was going to be\ndrowned next morning, and she cried all the more when she remembered how\nunkind she had been to Swayn, and how much he loved her. She wished she\nhad not been so cruel. How often she had thrown her gold slippers at him\nand told him he had not made them shine enough, when he had spent hours\nrubbing and polishing them! How many times she had seen him sad and\nheavy with the weight of her scornful words! She was afraid that, even\nif he got into the town, the jasmine flowers would be so much trampled\nthat he would not guess what they were. She took off her little gold\nshoes and put them up on the window-sill, just inside the bars. \u201cIf he\npasses he will see them,\u201d she said. The man outside was so near the wall\nthat the depth of the sill hid them from his sight.\n\nSwayn was only waiting till it was dark to get into the town. The river\nran all round it, but he could swim well, and he had noticed a place\nwhere the wall was low and a beam stuck out which he thought he could\nreach with a leap. When the moon was up he left the Goblin in a thicket\nand plunged into the river, and, once across, he ran along under the\nwalls till he came to the big beam. After one or two attempts he managed\nto spring up and clasp it with his hands, and then he swung himself up\nwithout much difficulty, and was soon standing on it, looking down into\nthe moonlit streets of the city.\n\nNobody was about. The ground was much higher on the inside, so he let\nhimself down easily, but, as he had no notion where they had taken\nLaurine, he did not know which way to go. He met few people in the\ndeserted streets, and as the whole of the crowd which had captured her\nwas sitting planning how it should drown her on the morrow, no one had\nany idea who he was.\n\nHe was almost in despair, when he noticed a jasmine flower lying at his\nfeet; then he saw that there was another farther on, and yet another\nafter that, and he knew that she had dropped them that he might trace\nher. He followed the track through several streets, and as he went he\nkept singing, that she might hear his voice if she were anywhere near.\n\n                \u201cLaurine, Laurine, the jasmine white\n                Shines like a star in the darkest night,\u201d\n\nhe sang. He dared not call, for fear of disturbing the sleeping town.\n\nAt last he came to where flowers and leaves stopped, near an open space\nby the town wall. Close to it was a little stone cell with a barred\nwindow and a door, in front of which lay a sleeping man, with a key tied\nto his belt. It was easy to see that no one could get in without\nawakening him.\n\nSwayn looked up to the window above the sleeper\u2019s head, and saw the two\nlittle shoes placed together on the sill. He crept nearer, and sang\nagain:\n\n                \u201cLaurine, Laurine, the jasmine white\n                Shines like a star in the darkest night\u201d;\n\nand in a moment he heard a voice inside the cell singing softly:\n\n              \u201cSwayn, Swayn, nearer tread:\n              Love lives on when the stars are dead.\u201d\n\nHe came a little closer and sang:\n\n                \u201cLaurine, Laurine, throw your veil:\n                Dead men\u2019s lips can tell no tale.\u201d\n\nThen the spangled veil was thrown through the window-bars, and he caught\nit as it fell.\n\nStealthily he went up to the sleeper and cut the heavy key from his belt\nwith his knife; then, as the man stirred, he thrust the veil into his\nmouth to stop his cries, and, seizing him in his strong arms, flung him\nover the low parapet into the river swirling below. In another moment he\nhad unlocked the door of the cell and was embracing Laurine, while she\nasked his forgiveness for all her unkindness and promised to marry him\nif they managed to get out of the city alive.\n\nThere was an old piece of tattered sacking lying in a corner of the\nprison, and she took off her rich dress and wrapped the horrible rag\nabout her. They tucked away her long hair and tied a bandage over her\nface, so that she looked like some wretched beggar, and, when they had\nlocked the door and pitched the key into the river, she set off down the\nsilent streets, Swayn following a little way behind. They hid in a dark\nalley near the town gates, and waited till the hour should come to\nunlock them at dawn. The sentry on duty was not the same man who had\nclosed them after Laurine on the preceding day, and he let the poor\nbeggar go through with a jeer. As for Swayn, following at a little\ndistance, he took no notice of him beyond bidding him a friendly\ngood-morning. So the lovers were soon in the open country, pressing\nforward to the thicket where the Fiddling Goblin had promised to wait\nfor his nephew\u2019s return.\n\nYou may be sure that they spared no haste in getting away. By the time\nthe sun was high they had reached a village, where they procured horses.\nAll the money that Laurine had made by her dancing was kept by the\nGoblin tied up in a bag with his fiddle; so they lacked no means of\ngetting forward, and they turned their heads towards the country from\nwhich they had started.\n\nWhen they reached the wood they could have shouted for joy. As they came\nto the middle of it the Goblin stamped his heel, and all the candles of\nthe horse-chestnut trees burst into a blaze of light, for they had been\naway a whole year, and it was the season of blossom again. Swayn and\nLaurine promised to live with their uncle Sackbut, and never to leave\nhim any more.\n\nThey were soon married, with great pomp and solemnity, the only drawback\nbeing that the Goblin could not make up his mind whether to be best man,\nor give away the bride, or play the wedding music on his fiddle. But the\nmatter was happily settled by his doing all three.\n\n\n\n\n                           THE WITCH\u2019S CLOAK\n\n\nPeter and Janet and the miller stood on the rising ground by the farm;\nthe sound of the wheel came to them, and the whir of grinding. Before\nthem lay the tidal marshes that stretched to the seaport town. It was\nthe same town through whose streets the Water-Nix followed the pedlar\nwhen she left dry land for the last time to swim out and join the\nwater-kelpies. It looked like a blue shadow-town now, cut sharp against\nsky and sea, with its tall steeple reflected in the wet sand.\n\n\u201cI have often had it in my mind to tell you a strange story my\ngrandmother heard about a man who lived in that place,\u201d said the miller,\npointing across the salt marsh.\n\n\u201cIs it true?\u201d asked Peter.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s more than I know,\u201d replied his friend, \u201cfor I never asked my\ngranny, and maybe if I had, she couldn\u2019t have told me. If you like the\nstory you can think it true, and if you don\u2019t we\u2019ll say it isn\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you ever been in that town?\u201d the miller asked Janet.\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cWell, just where you see the steeple rising and the glint of the sun on\nthe weathercock is the High Street. It\u2019s a wide road, with windows\nlooking down on it from either side; and at the end, as you go to the\ndocks, is an old house with carved gable-ends, and in a niche of its\nwall is the statue of a man.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd is that the man the story is about?\u201d inquired little Peter.\n\n\u201cThe same,\u201d said the miller. \u201cBut, to tell you about him, I must begin\nsomewhere very far away from the place where the old statue stands.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow far?\u201d asked inquisitive Peter.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d answered the miller, \u201cbecause nobody I\u2019ve ever seen has\nbeen there.\n\n    \u201cOnce upon a time, long, long ago, there was a Princess who had\n    five handsome elder sisters.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I thought you were going to tell about the man!\u201d cried Peter.\n\n\u201cIf you listen hard enough, you\u2019ll hear the grass grow,\u201d said the\nmiller, \u201cand if you listen long enough, you\u2019ll hear about the man.\u201d\n\nOnce upon a time, as I said before, there was a Princess who had five\nelder sisters, the most beautiful ladies ever seen; and their father\nthought a deal of them, but not much of the youngest, who was small and\nnot nearly so pretty. But she was very nice, all the same, and the thing\nshe loved best was to go hunting after flowers. Nobody cared what she\ndid or where she went, and she spent all her days wandering in woods and\nvalleys looking for her plants. There was little she did not know about\nthem, and if she had not been a Princess, with no need to work, she\nmight have made her fortune by writing books about them and their\nhistories. One day as she roamed about she came to a place she had never\nseen before\u2014a little valley full of great trees, with a winding stream\nrushing through it like a silver thread. Beside the water grew a clump\nof the most lovely yellow irises.\n\nShe liked the spot so much that she returned to it every day; and she\nwould sit for hours at a time beside the iris-bed, with her elbows on\nher knees, dreaming about wonderful foreign plants she had never seen\nand the strange descriptions of them she had read in books.\n\nFarther up the valley, beyond the trees, could be seen the roofs of a\ncastle which stood on towering rocks. She did not know who it belonged\nto, so one day, as she sat by the water, she said aloud: \u201cI wonder who\nlives there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe witch, the witch!\u201d sang the iris-flowers behind her. The sound went\nthrough them like a sigh.\n\nShe started and turned round, but there was no one to be seen; and again\nas she looked the flowers repeated: \u201cThe witch, the witch!\u201d\n\nThen she asked them many more questions, but nothing would they say.\nPerhaps it was all they knew, or perhaps what she took for words was\nonly the rustling of the long stiff leaves one against the other. But\nthat\u2019s as may be. In any case, it roused her curiosity so much that she\nrose and went off towards the castle. She had no sooner got among the\ntrees than by came the witch herself.\n\n[Illustration: \u201c\u2018WHO ARE YOU?\u2019 INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN.\u201d]\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d inquired the old woman.\n\nThe Princess explained, and politely asked to be forgiven for\ntrespassing.\n\n\u201cPray don\u2019t apologize,\u201d said the witch, \u201cand do me the favour to give me\nyour arm as far as my castle. I have, as you see, no staff, and I am not\nso young as I was.\u201d\n\nThe Princess agreed willingly, and they walked on together. The old\nwoman was wrapped in a trailing black cloak, and her hair hung over her\neyes, like the hair of all other witches. She seemed rather a pleasant\nbody, though her nose and chin were certainly a little too near\ntogether. When they had climbed as far as the castle gate, she invited\nher companion to come in and rest, and the Princess, who feared nobody,\nfollowed her. They sat down together at a window overlooking the valley;\nfrom it she could see the winding water and the clump of irises.\n\n\u201cIt is the most fortunate thing in the world that I met you,\u201d began the\nold woman, \u201cfor I am much in need of advice from somebody. My difficulty\nis this: I have grown very tired of being a witch, and I wish to leave\nmy profession and become like other people. I am learning, as you have\nnoticed, to do without my crooked staff. Last week I sold my broomstick\nand bought a very pretty little brown horse instead, and I have given my\nblack cat to a friend. My appearance is still not quite what I could\nwish, and I really do not know what kind of clothes to get, nor how to\narrange my hair. Other witches can tell me nothing, for they know as\nlittle as I do, but your advice would be the greatest help to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall be very pleased to do anything I can,\u201d said the Princess.\n\n\u201cIf you will consent to stay with me for a few days till my wardrobe is\ncomplete, I shall be more obliged than I can say,\u201d continued the old\nwoman. \u201cUse my house as your own, and everything in it.\u201d\n\nAnd so it was all arranged in five minutes.\n\nThe Princess was uncommonly useful. She brushed the witch\u2019s hair and\npinned it up tidily, and made her a fine lace head-dress, which gave her\na dignified air. She sent to the nearest town for silks and brocades and\nbuckled shoes, and, instead of the crooked staff that her friend missed\nso much, she bought her a handsome stick with an amber head.\n\nThe witch was delighted, for she looked both refined and venerable as\nshe stood before her glass.\n\n\u201cHere!\u201d she exclaimed, taking up her old black cloak, which lay on the\nfloor, \u201cthis must be thrown away.\u201d\n\nShe was just going to cast it upon the fire when the Princess stopped\nher.\n\n\u201cOh no, no!\u201d she cried, snatching it from her, \u201cdon\u2019t destroy it. Pray,\npray give it to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat for?\u201d exclaimed the witch. \u201cA Princess in a witch\u2019s cloak? A\npretty idea, indeed!\u201d\n\nBut the Princess clung to it.\n\n\u201cSurely you will not refuse me,\u201d she said, \u201csince you do not want it any\nmore! How often have I heard you say that you could fly wherever you\nliked in it? Think what it would be for me if I were able to go off in\nit to foreign countries, and see all the wonderful plants I have heard\nso much about! Only give it to me and I will be your debtor for life.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, after all, why not?\u201d said the witch. \u201cOne good turn certainly\ndeserves another. Keep it, my dear. If you put it on, and hold out your\narms like wings on either side, it will take you up into the sky, and\nyou can sail along like a ship. When you wish to descend, just fold your\narms and you will come down to earth quite gently.\u201d\n\nThe Princess took her treasure and locked it up in her own chamber, for\nfear the witch should change her mind. The next day she bade her\nfarewell, and, throwing on the cloak, spread out her arms. Up she went,\neasily and gently, and when she had decided where she should go, she\nturned her face southwards and was soon far, far away, a little speck\namong the clouds. The witch looked after her till she could see her no\nmore.\n\nShe was now in the seventh heaven of joy. She went to every country she\nhad ever heard about. She saw the sea-pinks and water-asters of lonely\nislands known only to screaming gulls; she stood in forests where\ncreepers were thrown like veils over the branches and the air was heavy\nwith the scent of fringed and spotted orchids, purple and mauve and\ncream-yellow. She wandered beside lakes, walled in by solemn trees that\nhid the sun and strewn with red and white lilies; she saw the groves of\ncherry-blossom that hang on the steep gorges of blue hills far away, and\nthe giant palms and scarlet flowers of the South. At last, after many\nmonths of wandering, she flew northward and up the coast of the North\nSea till she was right over the town before us.\n\nIt was midnight as she stood, wrapped in her black cloak, on the topmost\npoint of the steeple. The folds fluttered and crackled, as you may hear\na flag flutter and crackle if you stand by a flagstaff on a tower; but\nno one noticed it or saw her, for everyone but the watchman was in bed,\nand _he_ was asleep too, though he was paid to be awake. In the bright\nmoonlight she sailed down to the empty pavement of the High Street,\namong the dark shadows of the gable-ends. It was winter now and the\nfrost was iron-hard over the whole country. She went quickly through the\nstreets, for she did not care for towns, determining that when the sun\nrose next day she would be well on her way back to the witch\u2019s castle in\nthe valley. But she was rather tired and wanted a few hours of sleep\nfirst. She left the town and flew up this very road and past the\nmill\u2014so I have heard\u2014till she came to an old deserted cottage that\nonce stood not far from here by the wayside. (There were still a few\nstones of it left when I was a child, and I used to pass it on my way to\nschool.) The nettle-stalks were all frozen round it as she pushed\nthrough the broken door, meaning to lie down and sleep in shelter till\nmorning. She had nothing to fear from the cold, for among the cloak\u2019s\nother useful qualities was the power of keeping the person inside it\nperfectly warm. She was exceedingly surprised to see by the moonlight\nthat someone else was in the miserable hovel.\n\nA little starving boy was lying on a pile of straw in the corner. His\npoor face was thin and blue with cold, and he had crept into the hut\nbecause it was the only refuge he could find. He had walked all day,\nbegging from door to door, for he had neither home nor friends nor food,\nand was worn out with fatigue and hunger. He lay, scarcely knowing where\nhe was, for his wits were beginning to go, and when the Princess came in\nhe was very near death. Strange dreams were in his brain. The moon\nstruck brilliantly on a little window in the wall and the bitter cold\nhad covered it with wonderful frost-flowers. It was the last thing he\nhad seen before he closed his eyes, and he seemed to himself to be\nlooking deep into a white forest that had grown up from the panes. Oh,\nhow freezing it was! The forest was all made of frozen ferns and seaweed\nand feathers, like the white images on the glass. It stretched far, far\naway in alleys of fantastic sparkling fronds and glittering branches.\nHow thick the strange, beautiful things grew! He had been once told\nthat, if he was a good boy, when he died a white angel would come and\ntake him to a place where he would never be sad or hungry any more. He\nwas not sure that he did not see someone coming to him between the stems\nof the frozen forest. Perhaps it was the white angel.\n\nHe tried to sit up, but he was too weak. Poor little man, he had just\nenough life left in him to see that what he had taken for an angel was a\nwoman in a black cloak.\n\nThe Princess went to him and bent over him. Then she took him up under\nthe warm folds, bound him to her breast with her girdle, and hurried out\nof the hut. She spread out her arms, and, sailing with him into the\nwintry sky, flew over land and sea till she arrived at the witch\u2019s\ncastle.\n\nThe witch was overjoyed to see her come back, for she had been away half\na year. They took the little boy and put him in a warm bed, in which he\nlay for many long days. But he was fed with the best of food, and such\ncare was taken of him that when he got well he was able to run about and\nplay in the valley and be happy from morning till night. They were so\ngood to him that he soon forgot he had ever had any troubles at all.\n\nThe witch and the Princess got on so well together that they determined\nnot to part, and they had plenty to do, looking after their charge and\nteaching him all the things he should know\u2014how to read and write and\nsay his prayers, and how to answer nicely when he was spoken to. When\nthe Princess went, as she did every year, to find new flowers in foreign\nlands, he went with her, and helped her to carry back roots and seeds,\nwhich they planted in the valley; for the cloak was so large that, even\nwhen he grew bigger, there was room in it for them both. She taught him\nall her own knowledge, and as time went by and he grew up to be a man,\nhe became even more learned than herself. He was very clever and so\nhardy and strong that nobody would have believed him to be the little\nwretched child who had lain starving in the hovel.\n\nAt last the time came when he was ready to go out into the world to seek\nhis fortune. The parting gift that the Princess gave him was the black\ncloak. He was to have it on condition that he would come back once every\nyear to go to some foreign land with her, and to visit the witch. He was\ngiven a small sum of money to start life with; and, as he was anxious to\nsee the country of his birth and the hut in which he had been found, he\nwrapped himself in the cloak and came down, as the Princess had done, at\nmidnight into the town across the marsh.\n\nHe was a fine, sensible fellow. Though he had lived in a castle, and\nperhaps because he had been brought up by a real Princess, he had no\nsilly notions and was ready for any work he could find. He hired a\nmodest lodging, and, going to the director of a large public garden that\nhad been made in the town, he asked to be employed as a gardener. There\nwas only one place vacant, and that was the very lowest, but he took it\neagerly. His work was to wheel barrows, and sweep leaves, and cut grass,\nbut he did it as carefully and put as much heart into it as if he was\nraising priceless flowers; for the Princess had brought him up strictly,\nand made him understand that honest work can only be made mean by the\nmeanness of the person who does it.\n\nEvery year, when he had a few weeks\u2019 holiday, he returned to the witch\u2019s\ncastle. No one saw him go, and no one saw him come back, and nobody knew\nhow he managed to get the marvellous plants that he brought back with\nhim. Very soon he was no longer an under-gardener, but the head of all,\nand by the time he was turning grey he had become the greatest botanist\nand teacher in the country. Learned men came from all parts of the\nkingdom to talk with him in his house with the carved gable-ends in the\nHigh Street of yonder town.\n\nTime went by, and his fame spread all over the world. He grew old and\nhis hair turned white, but still he went about wrapped in the black\ncloak, from which he never parted. His white beard flowed over his\nbreast as he sat and wrote the books which helped to make him famous, or\nwalked over the country, comparing plants and teaching his pupils out of\nhis stores of wisdom. But at last he grew too infirm to walk long\ndistances, and strangers coming to the town would look with awe upon his\nvenerable figure as he passed through the streets. Everyone loved him,\nrich and poor alike.\n\nAnd so it came to be that a great banquet was given in his honour, and\nthe learned from all countries met together.\n\nIt was the middle of summer, and the hall in which it took place was\ndecorated with flowers. A laurel-wreath hung over the chair in which he\nwas to sit, costly fruits were brought from far-away lands, and the hall\nwas filled with the glory of blossoming plants, many of which he had\ncarried home with him as tiny seeds from his journeys. Wise men were\nthere and beautiful ladies, students and great personages. All had come\nto see him and to hear him speak. The town was thronged\u2014you would think\nthere was no room in it for so much as one additional person.\n\nWhen the feast was over he rose and began his speech, and silence fell\nupon everyone. Though he was frail and old, his voice was clear as he\ntold them of the countries he had wandered in\u2014the distant islands, the\ntropics, the golden East. No one imagined he had been so far afield, and\nhis listeners wondered how he had contrived to make such voyages, for\nthey knew that he was not rich and lived very simply in the old house at\nthe end of the street. But everybody was enthralled; his life of work,\nhis modesty, his great age and wisdom adorned him, in the eyes of his\npupils and the assembled guests, like the jewels of a crown.\n\nWhen the long speech was over he sat down, leaning back in his chair\nunder the laurel-wreath, for the effort he had made was great. The\nguests remained respectfully in their places; they saw that he was weary\nand would need rest before he could listen to their congratulations. For\na moment he closed his eyes, and when he opened them, a wonderful change\nseemed to have come over the scene before him.\n\nThe green boughs that filled the hall and the vases of flowers on the\nlong tables were changing before his failing sight. Instead of the tall\nsheaves of roses a white forest was rising up, deep and pure, a forest\nthat he had seen before. On either side the frost-flowers hung\nsparkling, their snow-crystals thick in the maze of white feathers and\nseaweed and ferns. The sprays and branches crowded on him in their\ndazzling myriads, dense and high, and far down the white vista into\nwhich he looked a figure was coming\u2014a white figure. It was the angel.\n\nHe rose and grasped an outstretched hand.\n\n\u201cHe is gone,\u201d said the guests. \u201cThe exertion has been too much for him.\u201d\nAnd his pupils and friends came round him, the tears standing in their\neyes.\n\nAt that moment a gust of wind ran through the open doors of the hall,\nand the black cloak, which its owner had laid on a window-sill before he\nsat down at the table, was blown from it and flew out into the air. No\none saw it go, but it rose on the sudden wind and sailed upwards, above\nthe town, above the steeple, and disappeared like a dark cloud into the\ndistant spaces of sky.\n\n                 *        *        *        *        *\n\n\u201cSome day,\u201d said the miller to little Peter, \u201cI\u2019ll take you to the town\nin my cart and show you the statue of that man in the wall of the old\nhouse.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you\u2019ll let me hold the end of the reins and the whip, and drive\ntoo, won\u2019t you?\u201d shouted the little boy.\n\n\u201cWell, perhaps I will,\u201d laughed the miller, \u201conly Janet must come too,\nto keep you in order.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CONCLUSION\n\n\nIt was not long after this that the miller kept his promise. The horse\nwas harnessed and away they drove to the town. He and Janet sat\ntogether, with Peter between them; the little boy held the end of the\nreins in one hand and the whip in the other, shouting and flourishing\nthe lash about and thinking that coachmen were even better people than\nmillers. Janet was happy too. She sat smiling and holding the tail of\nhis coat, for fear he should overbalance himself and fall out into the\nroad.\n\nThey left the cart at an inn, and went to see the house with its statue\nin the niche of the wall and carved gable-ends turned towards the\nstreet. It was now inhabited by poor families, whose washing flapped\nfrom the upper story like a row of banners over the head of the stone\nimage. They stood on the pavement of the High Street and looked up to\nthe giddy point of the steeple, where the weathercock twirled, more than\na hundred feet in the air; they wondered at the quaint houses, with\ntheir outside staircases and their little wooden triangles of drying\nhaddocks nailed against the wall. Then they strolled to the docks and\nstood at the place from which the lovely Nix had dived into the salt\nwater. The tide lapped and gurgled against the quays, and the wind sang\nin the rigging of the ships alongside, and the fair-haired sailors\ntalked in a foreign tongue, shouting to the fishwives who passed in\ntheir blue petticoats and amber necklaces along the cobbled roadway. The\nlighthouse stood on the promontory and the North Sea rolled and heaved\noutside the bar. It was a delightful holiday.\n\nWhen they were tired of that they went out towards the seashore. The\ngulls were wheeling over the bents and sea-grass, and the sands lay\nsmooth and fine to the edge of the waves. Little Peter rushed off to\nplay, leaping about and throwing stones and gathering shells, while his\ncompanions sat upon the sand-dunes watching him.\n\n\u201cJanet,\u201d said the miller, \u201cI hear that your grandmother is going to\nleave the cottage by the pond and go away to some other place. Is that\ntrue, do you think?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid so,\u201d replied she.\n\n\u201cAnd you will go too?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes,\u201d said Janet; \u201cwe have no other home.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut little Peter will miss his stories.\u201d\n\nJanet sighed. \u201cIndeed he will,\u201d she answered, sadly. \u201cThere is not much\nelse we have in the way of pleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I can\u2019t let you go,\u201d the miller went on, \u201cand what\u2019s more, I won\u2019t.\nJanet, if you\u2019ll marry me and come and live with me at the mill-house,\nI\u2019ll see that you are happy for the rest of your life. Do you think you\ncould like me enough for that?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I can\u2019t leave Peter,\u201d she exclaimed; \u201cI could never be happy to\nthink of him all alone, and perhaps being cruelly used.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut suppose he came too?\u2014there\u2019s plenty of room for him. Will you say\nyes, Janet, or shall we ask him to settle it for us?\u201d said the miller.\n\u201cWill you promise to marry me if he says yes?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said she.\n\nAnd so they drove home together when the sun was getting low.\n\n\u201cPeter,\u201d said the miller, \u201cdon\u2019t you think it would be a good plan if I\nmarried Janet, and you were to come and live with me and learn to be a\nmiller too? You should have cake for tea every other day, and a pair of\nfine blue trousers, and a whipping-top of your own, and a kite, and I\u2019d\ntell you a new story every Sunday afternoon.\u201d\n\nPeter\u2019s eyes grew round.\n\n\u201cAnd should I be all white with flour like your man?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom head to foot,\u201d said the miller.\n\n\u201cHooray! hooray! hooray!\u201d shrieked little Peter, jumping about in the\ncart.\n\n\u201cTake care, take care,\u201d cried Janet, \u201cor you will make the horse run\naway.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat settles it,\u201d observed the miller. \u201cWe\u2019ll be married next week.\u201d\n\nAnd so they were.\n\n             BILLING AND SONS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD\n\n\n\n\n                           TRANSCRIBER NOTES\n\nMisspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple\nspellings occur, majority use has been employed.\n\nPunctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors\noccur.\n\nIllustrations have been relocated due to using a non-page layout.\n\n[The end of _Stories Told by the Miller_ by Violet Jacob]","title":"Stories told by the miller","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":45736}