{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_79122/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_79122","id":"gutenberg_79122","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/79122","summary":null,"tags":["Children's stories, American","Fairy tales"],"text":"_The_\n                              Mouse Miller\n                           AND OTHER STORIES\n\n                         _By_ COOKE DON-CARLOS\n                   Author of \u201cVirginia\u2019s Inheritance\u201d\n\n                             [Illustration]\n\n                              DAVIS & BOND\n                        PUBLISHERS OF GOOD BOOKS\n                             BOSTON - MASS.\n\n\n\n\n                            COPYRIGHT, 1917,\n                            BY DAVIS & BOND\n\n\n\n\n                          TABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n               I  THE BAKER OF COBLENTZ\n              II  A DAUGHTER OF THE STARS\n             III  THE BROOM MASTER\n              IV  ROSE-MARIE AND THE WITCH O\u2019 WOODS\n               V  TOODLES AND THE GRAY LADY\n              VI  LITTLE HANS AND THE KOBOLDS\n             VII  THE MOUSE MILLER\n            VIII  ALICY\u2019S ADVENTURE\n              IX  JEHAN THE GOLDHAIRED\n\n\n\n\n                            THE MOUSE MILLER\n\n\n\n\n                                   I\n\n                         THE BAKER OF COBLENTZ\n\n\nOne Christmas Eve, the glow of the setting sun reddened the spires and\ndomes of Coblentz and lit up a little window set in the upper half of\nBaker Gottlieb\u2019s door as he looked out on the narrow, snowy street.\nIt was lined with ugly little shops like his, with two or three tall\nold houses with quaint overhanging eaves and high chimney-pots, the\nonly exception to the general shabbiness being the mansion of the\nHerr Professor at the corner, a handsome house set well back in its\nhigh-walled garden, as if it shrank from the poverty about it, though\nits master owned most of the buildings in sight.\n\nAs the sunlight faded from the street, a last beam lingered over the\ngreat house at the corner. \u201cLike a glow from the comfort within,\u201d\nsighed poor Gottlieb, with envy in his heart, for his flour bin stood\nnearly empty, the few pfennigs brought in by the day\u2019s baking would\nbarely eke out the rent due on the morrow, and the one loaf left on his\ncounter would be his only Christmas feast.\n\nGottlieb was turning toward the end of his shop where the oven stood\nwhen the door opened and two women came in,--the Herr Professor\u2019s\nhousekeeper, a buxom young female, following a ragged, aged dame who\nproduced three bent and blackened coins and quaveringly asked for a\nloaf.\n\n\u201cNay, mother, I have but one loaf for my own needs,\u201d answered the baker\nkindly. \u201cBesides, flour has risen in price, and it takes ten pfennigs\ninstead of three to buy a loaf.\u201d\n\nThe housekeeper broke in briskly:\n\n\u201cMy good man, I must have that loaf. There are guests at the Herr\nProfessor\u2019s, and I need bread for croutons.\u201d And she fumbled in an\nample purse hanging at her side with her keys.\n\n\u201cNay, mistress, I must eat, as well as your master\u2019s guests, and this\nloaf is all I have for my Christmas dinner.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you shall have thirty pfennigs,\u201d cried she good-naturedly. \u201cOnly\nhaste, Master Gottlieb, for my supper waits!\u201d\n\nAs Gottlieb extended the loaf, the old dame exclaimed:\n\n\u201cAlas, I must perish! for I am too weak and old to go farther. Other\nshops are sold out, and I have had naught to eat since yesterday!\u201d And\nshe turned away, still gazing with longing eyes at the one loaf.\n\nUnder Gottlieb\u2019s ragged apron beat a kind heart, and thrusting the loaf\ninto her hands, he bade her begone and keep her pfennigs for Christmas.\nSo, mumbling thanks, she shuffled away, leaving the housekeeper shaking\nher fist at poor Gottlieb.\n\n\u201cWhat?\u201d she screamed. \u201cYou insult me, housekeeper of the Herr\nProfessor? Refuse thirty pfennigs and give the loaf away? Oh, you shall\ndearly rue this, Master Gottlieb! There will be no bakeshop here next\nrent day. My brother is the Herr Professor\u2019s agent!\u201d And she flounced\nout, banging the door behind her.\n\nAfter a bite to eat, the baker lit a candle and sat a long time staring\ninto the embers of his oven fire, and when the room was cold and the\ncandle burned out, he went sadly to bed, feeling that disaster had\nindeed come upon him.\n\nIn the Christmas dawning, a loud knocking at his door awakened him.\nOpening it, he found his friend Hans, the shoemaker from across the way.\n\n\u201cA Merry Christmas!\u201d cried he. \u201cSee, my good daughter has come in\nfrom the country with gifts which I share with thee. Here are eggs,\nmilk, butter, and dried grapes. And now haste you and make a Christmas\npudding, for I must be back over ere my coffee cools.\u201d And the jolly\nshoemaker was across the street while Gottlieb was trying to thank him.\n\n\u201cGod is good!\u201d thought Gottlieb, \u201cand now I can bake kuchen and sell\nthem, and that, at least, will buy my Christmas dinner, even if I must\npack from here to-morrow.\u201d\n\nAs he was whistling over his dough, the agent came for the rent. \u201cOn\nChristmas day, too!\u201d thought the poor baker, as he counted it out from\na broken mug. \u201cSurely, the Herr Professor is a hard man.\u201d\n\nThe agent laughed. He was stout, with a wart on his nose, and wore a\nblue coat.\n\n\u201cHis agent is, baker,\u201d he growled. \u201cYou are to be out of this\nto-morrow. I shall let the shop to a bookseller, baker. The Herr\nProfessor will be pleased!\u201d\n\nGottlieb tried to plead for time, but the agent would not stay to\nlisten, and taking up his tall staff, he went out, still repeating,\n\u201cThe change will much please the Herr Professor. Baker, the Herr\nProfessor will be much pleased!\u201d\n\nAs Gottlieb began his baking, he comforted himself with the thought\nthat perhaps he could go as cook\u2019s helper at some inn or bakery, and\nsurely his friend, the cobbler, could lodge him for a time.\n\nWhen the cakes were made, he set them, very plump and tempting, on his\ntray, and, donning his worn cloak, went out in the snowy morning.\n\nPeople were hurrying to church, the bells were all ringing, and every\none cried \u201cMerry Christmas\u201d but poor Gottlieb.\n\nBy dinner time he had sold but half his cakes, and he gladly took an\ninnkeeper\u2019s offer to give him a meal for the rest. And after dining\nwell in the servants\u2019 hall, he went away with such broken food as was\ngiven him, and a much lighter heart.\n\nAs he passed down an alley way, the wretched outcasts came out of their\nhovels to beg, but seeing his poor clothes, they did not stop him, and\nhe hurried on until he came to one hovel more wretched than the rest.\nIt was hardly more than a heap of stones, with no door save a gaping\nhole in its toppling walls. Inside, Gottlieb saw the old woman who had\nbeen in his shop yesterday. She was crouched on the earthen floor,\nwrapped in rags, and only moaned when he called \u201cMerry Christmas!\u201d\n\nGottlieb went up to her. \u201cWhat did you buy with your three pfennigs,\nmother?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey stole my loaf and the coins, and I starve and freeze on Christmas\nDay!\u201d And she fell to moaning again.\n\n\u201cAt least you shall not freeze,\u201d cried Gottlieb, and he ran to a corner\nshop to buy fuel, and soon had a fire blazing in her cracked iron\nbrazier, and his own poor coat hung over the doorway.\n\nThen the dame, who had neither moved nor spoken, arose and shook off\nher rags. She grew straight and tall, a white robe floated about her,\nand her face was beautiful and bright, for on her forehead gleamed a\nstar which shone so brightly that Gottlieb must shade his eyes.\n\nThen she smiled on him and said, in a voice like the sweetest music:\n\n\u201cI am the Christmas Fairy, born when Bethlehem\u2019s star first rose. I\nshall never die nor the star\u2019s light cease to shine as long as men love\nand are merciful. You have given all that you have, and my reward is\nthree wishes; but remember, wealth, fame, nor power can give happiness,\nnor plenty a contented heart.\u201d And so saying, she laid a sprig of\nfir-tree in his hand and vanished.\n\nGottlieb looked around the empty firelit hut and rubbed his eyes. Could\nhe be dreaming? No; there burned the fire he had kindled, there lay the\nold crone\u2019s rags, and in his hand was the fir sprig. He sniffed its\nspicy fragrance as he went from the alley way into the street, passing\nthe Herr Professor\u2019s house.\n\nThe street was dark, save for the pale gleam of the starlight; but\nlights shone here and there behind holly-wreathed lattices, and the\nHerr Professor\u2019s house was all aglow with warmth and welcome, for the\ncounsellor would sup there to-night. Servants hurried to and fro with\nsteaming platters, and the Herr Professor and his family stood at the\ngreat open door to welcome the great guest.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d sighed Gottlieb as he passed, \u201cif I were the Herr Professor,\nhow happy I should be!\u201d Then he felt his form grow stout and robust,\nhis hair curly and long. In the twinkling of an eye, the gift of the\nChristmas Fairy had worked, and he, Gottlieb, was the Herr Professor,\nand his tall, thin wife was bowing, too, and his children clapped their\nhands and chorused shrilly, \u201cYou are welcome, Herr Professor!\u201d\n\nThe great counsellor walked proudly into the velvet-hung room, and\nwhen he had been unrolled from his many fur wraps and shawls, and the\nhousekeeper, now very meek and attentive, had carried them away, they\nwent in to the table, all set out in fine array with all manner of good\nthings, and a man servant to help the housekeeper serve them.\n\nBut the supper was a failure. The counsellor felt it a condescension\nthat he should dine with a plain professor, and showed this by his\npatronizing ways and the rude manner in which he contradicted his host.\nGottlieb, the professor, was wretched,--vexed that his gold plate had\nnot been put on the table, envious that his old schoolmate should be so\nhigh above him in rank, and furious at his sneering manner.\n\n\u201cAs if I, a Breneke, was not as good as a Schollenbergh!\u201d he fumed to\nhimself. \u201cWhy should he be counsellor and I only a professor? Oh, I\nwish I were he! I should--\u201d\n\nBut before he could think another thought, Gottlieb felt his jaws grow\nlong, his body lean, his head rather bald, his good stuff coat changed\nto velvet, and--he was seated in the counsellor\u2019s chair, Counsellor\nSchollenbergh himself!\n\n\u201cThe wine was bad,\u201d he thought, \u201cand the heavy pastry gave me\nstomach-ache. How stupid are these Brenekes! Why did I ever come to\nsup with such inferior persons?\u201d And the counsellor arose and said\nhaughtily that he wished his carriage called, as he desired to take\nleave of them. \u201cMatters of state, good Herr Professor; I must away.\u201d\nAnd he was speedily stalking out to his carriage, after a cold farewell\nwhich left the poor Herr Professor very sore at heart.\n\nYet as he wrapped himself warmly and settled back into the handsome\ncoach, the counsellor sighed. He thought of his own great, cold,\nmansion, where no little children welcomed the Christ-child\u2019s\nbirthday; of his baby\u2019s name carved on his family tomb, and of his\nfair, proud wife who cared only for his wealth and name, and was now\ndancing, with no thought of him, you may be sure, at the count\u2019s ball.\nTears of loneliness wet the counsellor\u2019s eyes as he gazed out on the\ndark street, and by the light from the cobbler\u2019s window he read, above\na tiny shop-door, \u201cGottlieb the Baker,\u201d and said aloud, \u201cAh, within\nthere sleeps an honest fellow, with not a worry or a care, no doubt. I\nwish I were as care-free as Gottlieb the baker,--nay, I wish I were he!\u201d\n\nBang--bang! Pound--pound! Pushing his yellow nightcap back, Gottlieb\nsat up in bed. It was the morning after Christmas, and as the gray\nlight came through the frosted window at which he stared, he finally\ndecided that the noise of pounding came from his shop door below.\n\nRunning down in his shirt, he found Hans the cobbler lifting a great\nbundle from the step. Beside it lay a branch of fir, which Gottlieb\npicked up ere he closed the door on Hans, who laid the bundle on the\ncounter and laughed at the baker\u2019s dress.\n\n\u201cRun for your trousers, man,\u201d he cried, \u201cyou are still asleep! This\nbundle is yours, left by the Herr Professor\u2019s housekeeper an hour ago.\nAnd as you did not open your door, I was afraid of thievery and waked\nyou.\u201d\n\nBy the time Gottlieb was dressed, the cobbler had made up a roaring\nfire, and together they opened the parcel. It contained a warm cloak, a\nbox of sweets, a stuffed goose from Strasburg, a goodly leather purse\nwith five silver thalers therein, and a letter sealed with a red wafer\nand addressed to \u201cMaster Gottlieb the Baker.\u201d And this was the letter:\n\n        \u201cMASTER GOTTLIEB:\n\n      \u201cMy housekeeper was angry on Christmas Eve, but in proof that\n      she repents, sends the goose, and begs that you continue in\n      your shop, serving my household. My family join me in the other\n      gifts. Your act of charity has taught us a lesson in the spirit\n      of Christmas giving, and at your unselfish conduct we are most\n      edified and pleased.\n\n                                                      \u201cGUSTAVE BRENEKE.\u201d\n\nWhen Hans had been told the story of the two women (though Gottlieb\nsaid no word of his later meeting with the old dame), he shook hands\nheartily and said, \u201cThat is well, friend Gottlieb,\u201d and went away,\nafter accepting an invitation to dine off the goose that very evening.\n\nOnce alone, Gottlieb stood looking at the gifts, and turning the sprig\nof fir in his hands, said:\n\n\u201cI wonder did I dream it all,--what part of my Christmas day was real,\nand what part a dream. Here is the fir branch the Christmas Fairy gave\nme, and I am sure I had those three wishes.\u201d\n\nSmiling gently, with a great peace in his heart, he set about preparing\nthe goose for the oven, and as it began to send up a savory smell, he\nlaid the fir branch on the fire and, still shaking his head dubiously,\nsaid:\n\n\u201cAt least part of it is real, for, as the agent said, the Herr\nProfessor was pleased.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                   II\n\n                        A DAUGHTER OF THE STARS\n\n\nLong ago a young hunter said to his mother, \u201cI will go and hunt for\nbuffalo.\u201d But she answered, \u201cIt is far to go, and evil may befall you!\nTarry a little, my son.\u201d\n\nSo he laid away his bow and spear and stayed at her bidding. That\nwas in winter; but when the spring rains had washed the earth clean\nand bright and carpeted the prairie with flowers, again he took his\nweapons, and, resisting all pleading, he went away from his village\njust as the sun rose.\n\nThe prairie grass was sweet and cool to his feet; the larks were\ncalling cheerily, and his heart was very happy; and he went on, miles\nand miles away from home, until the sun told him it was noon; so he\nstopped at a spring to eat the parched corn his mother had given him.\nBending to drink, he saw a leaf floating on the water, and on it a\nwounded cricket. It chirped feebly, and the young hunter cried, \u201cNo,\nlittle brother, you shall not drown!\u201d and took him out of the water.\n\nResting on a grass blade, the grateful insect shrilled its thanks, and\nsaid:\n\n\u201cAcross the prairie is a purple hill. On this hillside you will find\nsomething worth seeking; but take care to keep what first comes to you,\nfor if you do not, you will mourn all your life.\u201d\n\nThe young hunter laughed at the thought of finding something on the\nhillside and mourning all his life; yet he promised to be careful, and\nwent on his way.\n\nAlthough he walked far, he found nothing. At last, tired and hungry,\nhe decided to go home, yet, knowing how the villagers would laugh if\nhe returned empty-handed, thought to hunt a little longer. So, though\nthe sun was down and the stars were out, he persevered, until in the\ndistance he saw a purple hill outlined against the dying fire of the\nsunset.\n\nRemembering the cricket\u2019s promise, he hastened on, and just as twilight\nfaded into night, he discerned, among the trees upon the hillside, a\nglobe of light, and heard delicious music.\n\nDown, down the dazzling ball floated to the foot of the hill, and\nhe saw that it was a great golden basket, out of which sprang twelve\nlovely maidens in gossamer robes like moonlight. Joining hands, their\nmusic swelled into a song, to which they danced in and out among the\ntrees, while fireflies flitted through the dusk and the starlight fell\nsoft and pale over the prairie.\n\nIn vain he called to them; they did not heed, but wove in and out in\ntheir graceful dance, singing sweetly. Their long, dark hair hung over\ntheir glittering robes like dusky mantles, and their faces were like\nlilies and roses, save one who moved more lightly than the rest. Her\nface was like a pearl, her eyes two sapphires darkly blue, and her hair\nfell in a shower of gold to her feet.\n\nOf all the beautiful ones, this one seemed the brightest, and the\nhunter followed them, vainly endeavoring to stay her, though she moved\non softly as a cloud.\n\nBut at last the dancing feet paused, the song died away into a sweet\nrefrain. With beating heart and panting breath, the young hunter came\nnear and stretched out eager hands towards the brightest one; but she\nglided away, leaving in her stead one of the darker beauties. Then,\nforgetful of the cricket\u2019s warning, he released her and sprang forward\nwith a cry, clasping the maiden he desired. Her bright hair sweeping\nover him obscured his sight for a moment, but he heard a plaintive\nminor chord, which died away in the distance, and when he could see,\nthe dancers were fled, leaving the golden-haired maiden alone with him.\n\nThere in the starlight he wooed her. But she told him she was not of\nhis kind and that it would not be well for him to take her for wife.\nBut he would not have no for answer, and when she refused him, wept,\nand said she would go with him. Then he kissed her, and she took his\nhand and went back with him to his people. So the hunter did not return\nfrom his hunt empty-handed.\n\nThe village people marveled at her beauty and did homage to her. But in\nprivate his mother wept, saying, \u201cHe has wed a daughter of the stars,\nand he cannot be happy.\u201d\n\nBut the star maiden, though she did not mingle with the people nor join\nin the work of the women, seemed to love her husband very much. And at\nnight, when the village slept and the fires were low, she would sit\nout upon the prairie with his head on her lap and sing him songs of\nthe sky, or tell tales of her beautiful home beyond the seven golden\nmountains, across the seven golden bridges, in the land of the seven\ngolden fountains; and it seemed to the young hunter that he was the\nhappiest man in all the world.\n\nAutumn came; the flowers faded, the grass grew sear upon the prairie,\nand the men of the village said, \u201cCome, it is time for the fall hunt.\u201d\n\nSo, sorrowfully he bade his beautiful wife good-by and set off for the\nhunting-ground. When night was come and the village all asleep, the\nhunter\u2019s mother was awakened by a soft sighing, and, looking up, saw\nthat her son\u2019s wife stood at the tepee door with her hand stretched\nup to the stars. And when the mother asked why the young wife sighed,\nshe answered, \u201cO mother dear, I long for home.\u201d Then she began a sad,\nsweet song that made the tears stand in the old mother\u2019s eyes; but its\nmusic soon lulled her to sleep, and when she awoke it was morning, and\nthe young wife was gone. But by and by she came with her robe full of\nrushes and her feet all wet with dew, for she had walked far over the\nsear grass to a little pond where they grew.\n\nWhen the hunter\u2019s mother asked what she did with the rushes, she\nanswered, \u201cI shall weave a basket,\u201d and she sat all day weaving and\nweaving; but though the basket grew under her skilful fingers, night\ncame and it was not finished.\n\nAnd that night she sighed as before and said, \u201cMother dear, I long for\nhome.\u201d And in the morning she was gone, but presently came again with\nmore rushes, and sat to weave as before; and when the old mother said,\n\u201cDaughter, you weave a great basket,\u201d she answered, \u201cNot greater than\nmy need, mother,\u201d and worked away until nightfall, when it was finished.\n\n\u201cHow pleased your husband will be, daughter, at the fine basket you\nhave woven, when he comes on the morrow!\u201d But the son\u2019s wife answered,\n\u201cNay, he will like it not,\u201d and fell to sighing in the night as before,\nand answered the mother\u2019s questionings with \u201cAh, mother dear, I long\nfor home!\u201d\n\nThen she sang a sad, sweet strain in her own language. \u201cWhy, it is as\nif it were farewell!\u201d cried the mother; but her eyes grew heavy, and\nwhen she awoke, her daughter was gone, and the great basket, too.\n\nWhen noon had come and the wife did not return, she was afraid, and\nwhen at night her son, laden with game, entered the village with the\nrest of the hunters amid the shouts of the people, he cried, \u201cMother,\nwhere is my wife?\u201d\n\nThe mother wept and could not tell him.\n\nAll night the people of the village searched and called, all night\ntheir torches lit the prairie, but no trace of the beautiful wife could\nthey find; and at last, worn and spent, the young hunter staggered into\nhis mother\u2019s tepee at daybreak and fell asleep on a mat before the\nfire, and in a dream he thought his wife came to him and kissed him,\nthat her golden hair swept over his breast and her tears fell upon his\nface. Then a plaintive minor chord sounded through the tepee, and he\nawoke.\n\nOn his cheek was a drop of water like a splash of rain, and upon his\nbreast lay one long golden hair; but his bride was not there. Days went\nby, but she did not return, and finally the young hunter made a long\njourney to a wise woman who, when she heard his story, shook her head\nand said, as had his mother, \u201cYou wedded a daughter of the stars and\nyou could not be happy, for she could never be satisfied with earth\nlife, and longed for home. So she made a basket of rushes secretly, and\nby help of a charm ascended to her father.\u201d\n\nWeeping bitterly, the hunter went away over the dreary prairie. The\nsnow fell fast and the cold winds wailed about him.\n\nOn, on he went, not knowing whither, until in the chill dusk of a\nwinter\u2019s twilight, he saw in the distance the purple hill where he had\nwooed his star maiden.\n\nIn vain hope of her return, he tried to reach it, but, weary and spent\nwith sorrow, his limbs refused to carry him farther, and he sank down\nas the night closed over the prairie and fell asleep. Then the soft\nsnow covered him with its white blanket and he never woke again.\n\nYears have gone, and the people of the young hunter have vanished like\nthe daughter of the stars, but the springtime still brings the flowers\nto deck the prairie and the fireflies still flit at evening among the\ntrees on the purple hill, and if you will walk there in the gathering\ntwilight, you will hear the plaintive call sounding from the hillside.\nSweet, low, and sad it rings out, never changing its mournful cadence.\n\nThey say it is a night bird which sings there when daylight is fading,\nbut it is the spirit of the young hunter calling to the daughter of the\nstars.\n\n\n\n\n                                  III\n\n                            THE BROOM MASTER\n\n\nThere was one time an old man who had three sons, and the two eldest\nwere bold, bright lads of whom he was proud; but the youngest was so\ndull a lout that they called him \u201cDumbling,\u201d and he must always sit at\nthe lowest place at table and wait on all the others. He wore ragged\nclothes and fared hardly until it came time for his father to die.\n\nThen the father said to the eldest son, \u201cI give thee the roan horse,\nthe house and all therein. Keep it!\u201d\n\nTo the second he said, \u201cI give thee the gray mare and the little field\nwith all therein. Till it!\u201d\n\nAnd to poor Dumbling he said: \u201cThou art good for nothing save to be a\nscullion; so take the old broom behind the door!\u201d\n\nFor many days after the funeral, the elder brothers spent all their\nmoney in carousing, and the house stood cluttered and unattended;\nand the little field lay untilled and unwatered. Only the hearth fire\nburned brightly, for Dumbling brought in wood and swept the hearth\nclean from day to day.\n\nWhen the money was all gone and the cellar empty of meat and drink, the\nelder brothers rode away, telling Dumbling he could stay and starve.\n\nWhen he had eaten his last crust, poor Dumbling bethought him that he\nmust now fare forth into the wide, wide world and seek his fortune. But\nas he turned from the cold hearth to go, the house lay all dusty and\ncluttered before him; so he took the old broom from behind the door\nand set the house to rights, sweeping it clean. Then lo! from where I\ncannot tell you, he swept up a rusty brown leather knapsack.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said he, \u201cI\u2019ll not go forth empty-handed.\u201d So he swung it over\nhis shoulder, took his broom in hand, and set out.\n\nBut as he passed the little field, he thought: \u201cFather said \u2018till\nit\u2019; so dig I must.\u201d And he set to work with such a good will that by\nevening he had spaded it. Then he stopped to rest by a scarecrow that\nhad been set up to frighten the birds. About this straw man hung an\nold cloak of faded green.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said Dumbling, \u201cthou art better clad than I.\u201d And he put the\ncloak across his own shoulders and set out to seek his fortune just\nas the sun went down. He walked and walked for a long time, until the\nstars spangled the dark sky and the owls began to hoot in a large wood\nto which he now came.\n\nSeeing no other path but that which entered the forest, Dumbling\npressed on, and suddenly heard a loud quarreling and shouting of rough\nvoices from behind a clump of bushes. Peeping through them, he saw by\na smoldering fire three robbers, with long mustaches, and with fierce\npistols in their belts and broadswords at their sides, engaged in a\nwrangle over a bag of gold.\n\nRunning suddenly among them, Dumbling seized the money and was gone\nlike a flash; and when he had run a mile or so, he marveled to find\nthat he was not pursued. But you must know that the green cloak from\nthe scarecrow\u2019s back was one that rendered its wearer invisible, and\nthough the robbers saw their booty disappear, they each accused the\nother, not being able to see Dumbling at all.\n\nWhen Dumbling had walked a great distance, it began to grow so dark\nthat he had to feel his way until he saw a faint light, which he found\ncame from a little hut with a candle in its window.\n\nKnocking at the door, it was opened by a ragged old woman who peered\nout, much frightened to hear a voice so near and see nothing. For a\nwhile Dumbling enjoyed her dismay; then he entered, closed the door\nbehind him with a bang, and removed the green cloak, when the dame saw\na poorly clad lad with tousled hair, and an old broom in his hand.\n\nThen she cried out that he must depart at once, as she was the servant\nof three bloody robbers, who would murder them both if they should come\nhome.\n\n\u201cWell, I only ask a bite and a sup and a sleep by the fire,\u201d said\nDumbling. But she wept and wrung her hands, saying her throat would\nsurely be cut, and that there was not even a moldy crust in the\ncupboard.\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d said Dumbling, \u201cI have worked and traveled fasting for a day.\nHow I wish this old knapsack held a capon and a pottle of good wine\ntherein!\u201d And he pulled at the rusty buckles until it flew open. And\nthere, indeed, was a lusty, smoking capon and an earthen pottle of\nfine wine, with a long, crusty loaf, for this knapsack was enchanted,\nand its owner would never want food.\n\nYou may be sure they dined well, and then, when the dame had fallen\nasleep by the fire, Dumbling took up his broom to clean the hearth,\nwhen he swept up--from where, I cannot tell you--an old pair of leather\ntop-boots.\n\nJust then a great hullabaloo arose outside. It was the robbers\nreturning, and their horses\u2019 feet were tramping nearer and nearer, when\nthe old woman awoke with a cry of \u201cFly!\u201d and, seeing the boots, she\ntold Dumbling that none could hear or catch their wearer, as they were\nthe seven-league boots of silence. So, pulling them on and taking up\nhis luggage, Dumbling stepped swiftly and invisibly out the door as the\nrobbers entered, and was far away from there in a jiffy, I can tell you!\n\nAnd by midnight he had come to a large city which was all illuminated,\nand where bells were all ringing, though the citizens who crowded the\nstreets were mourning and seemed sorrowful.\n\nDoffing the invisible cloak, Dumbling stopped before the door of a\nhandsome mansion, in whose portico sat an old man in a ragged black\ncloak, looking sadly out at the lights. And in reply to a salutation,\nhe answered civilly enough, and noting the lad\u2019s strange burden,--the\nknapsack, the boots, the bag of gold, great cloak, and old birch\nbroom,--he asked him whither he went and what he did for a living.\n\n\u201cWhy, as for the first, honored master,\u201d answered Dumbling, \u201canywhere!\nAnd for a vocation, I may say I am a broom master, for this birch broom\nand these things you see upon me are all I am master of in this world.\u201d\n\nAfter some talk, the two struck a bargain. Dumbling should serve in the\nold man\u2019s house for a penny a day. And before they went to rest, his\nmaster told him the reason for the illumination of the city, and why\nhe, the owner of so fine a mansion, must be served by a strange lad at\na penny a day.\n\nThe king of that city had a daughter fairer than moonlight, but more\nblack-hearted than midnight, for she was a wicked witch and would marry\nno one of her many suitors who could not make her shiver. And this none\ncould do, for she had a heart of ice, and many a prince, noble and\ngentle, had failed in this endeavor and had had his head cut off and\nhung on the garden wall to scare the birds away.\n\nDumbling\u2019s master had seven sons, all of whom tried to make the\nprincess shiver, and all of whom now lay headless in the churchyard,\nwhile the poor father had vainly spent his vast fortune in the king\u2019s\ncourts trying to save them. But no unsuccessful suitor lived, for the\nlaw was, \u201cHe who fails dies.\u201d\n\nAnd now the son of a great king had sent heralds to declare his intent\nto win the lovely princess, and so the town was all ablaze with rockets\nand strings of lanterns in honor of his coming.\n\nFor some days after his arrival in the city, Dumbling pondered on all\nthis as he moved about the mansion, serving his master faithfully for a\npenny a day, though he often eked out the scanty board with food from\nhis enchanted knapsack. The poor master, however, never noticed this,\nso sad was he at his great losses.\n\nSoon the king\u2019s son came with a great retinue, and fell into ecstasy\nover the beauty of the princess. But he fared no better than all the\nrest, and his head would certainly have graced the wall had not his\nfaithful followers rallied around him, fought a fierce fight with the\nking\u2019s soldiers, and, having slaughtered many and burned part of the\ntown, marched away vowing vengeance.\n\nNow was the poor old king more anxious than ever to wed his daughter,\nfor, with a great war threatening, he knew he must secure a rich\nand powerful ally in the shape of a son-in-law. So he redoubled his\nefforts, even sending the princess riding through all the countryside\non a milk-white, silver-trappinged palfrey, with forty noble maidens in\nher train, that all might see her beauty.\n\nSo it was that Dumbling, the broom master, saw her from his high\nbalcony as he shook out a dusty tapestry. He marveled at her long,\ngolden hair falling across her horse\u2019s flanks, and her rose-leaf face,\nlike some rare flower, smiling at the shouting people; for, though she\nhad bereaved half the city by her wickedness, they could but worship\nher beauty. She, looking up on the balcony, saw only a rosy-cheeked\nserving man waving a tapestry, and smiled up at him, as she did on all\nmen. That smile won the broom master\u2019s heart, and he thereafter could\nthink of nothing but the princess, and he finally went to his master,\nasking a holiday, that he might go and win the princess for his wife.\n\n\u201cAlas, my poor servant,\u201d cried his master, \u201chave you lost your wits?\u201d\nAnd he told again the long list of gentles and nobles whose heads hung\non the garden wall. But go Dumbling would and must.\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said the master, \u201cif it must be, go sweep the courtyard\nyet once more, and tell me what you find there.\u201d\n\nSo the broom master swept the flagging clean, and lo! he turned up--I\ncannot tell you from where--a great stone; whereupon up gushed a\nfountain, colder than the mountain snows and sparkling with hundreds of\ntiny gold and silver fishes, a lovely sight in the morning sunlight.\n\n\u201cTake thou this cask,\u201d said Dumbling\u2019s master, \u201cand fill it. My sons,\nscorning my advice, would have none of it; but it may save your head.\u201d\n\nWondering, but obedient, the broom master set his cask, the cloak,\nboots, and broom into a donkey cart and drove away.\n\nAs he passed down the street, neighbors said, \u201cWhither away, broom\nmaster?\u201d And when he answered, \u201cTo wed the king\u2019s daughter,\u201d they\nlaughed, yet were sorry, too. For all liked Dumbling, and one cried:\n\u201cThey\u2019ll never let you in with those rags! Come, I\u2019ll lend you my coat.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf clothes be needed, neighbor,\u201d answered the broom master, \u201cI can\nsoon provide for that.\u201d And thanking him, Dumbling drove the little\ngray donkey to the king\u2019s own tailor, and, taking out the bag of\nrobbers\u2019 gold, soon had a suit of handsome velvet all overlaid with\nsilver, a hat with a long, long plume, and stockings of silk above his\ngold-buckled shoes. Then to the king\u2019s own barber clattered the cart,\nand when, towards evening, his toilet was completed, the broom master\ncame forth as curled and perfumed an exquisite as ever took the palace\nstairs.\n\nWhen he arrived in the palace yard, he threw his reins to an astonished\ngroom, and bade the porter carefully to carry up the cask to the king.\nBut as it was wrapped in the green cloak, the fellow marveled at this\nstrange, handsome fellow who gave him a burden that he could not see.\n\nHis Majesty gave a willing audience to this new suitor, not dismayed\nby his queer equipage or the old boots and broom tucked away under his\narm; for wooers of the princess had come in strange guise. He also\nconsented to the broom master\u2019s demand that the princess must not know\nof his coming, and that he must see her asleep.\n\nThese arrangements made, the two sat down to supper, and afterwards\ndrank their wine and talked of this and that until the palace bells\nrang midnight, and the king gave the order that the broom master be\nshown into the garden where the princess slept in summer.\n\nThe broom master, with the cask, broom, boots, and cloak in one great\nbundle on his back, followed a page through the silent palace out into\nthe silent rose perfumed garden.\n\nHere the loveliest princess in all the world slept on a bed of white\nsatin upon a marble portico overlooking the lake, and her ladies,\nwearied by the heat of the midsummer night, slept also upon cushions on\nthe steps below her, instead of watching, as was their duty.\n\nThe broom master\u2019s heart gave a leap as he saw her, so fair, asleep in\nthe starlight. He wrapped his cloak about him, donned the seven-league\nboots of silence, and, walking softly to her couch, turned out the\ncask of icy water, which, being under enchantment, had but grown the\ncolder as it stood.\n\nUgh! The icy shower drenched her lacy robe and wet her through and\nthrough, the tiny fishes splashed and wriggled coldly all about her,\nand, waking with a cry, \u201cI shiver! Oh, I shiver!\u201d she saw that she was\nconquered at last.\n\nThen, with a loud scream of rage, she turned herself into a great black\neagle and flew out of the garden away across the prairies. But the\nseven-league boots could fly, too. So after her sped the broom master,\nflogging her with the birchen broom, until she was glad to alight in\na forest and turn herself into a roaring lion; but the broom master\nbelabored her so hard she was forced to take to the air again, this\ntime turning into a lovely white swan; and he, following in her wake,\nflogged and flogged until the blood stained her white feathers, and\nshe was forced to turn again toward the palace garden. And just at\ndaybreak, with drooping pinions and plaintive cries, she flew over the\ngarden wall and, dropping her swan form, fell at the broom master\u2019s\nfeet. Then the golden sun rose over the fair garden, where all the\nsweet flowers stretched their little lovely faces up to smile at him,\nand all the birds woke to chant his praise.\n\nThen the sleeping ladies woke, too, to see their mistress, all draggled\nand disheveled, seated on her couch by the side of a handsome lad, who\nwas kissing her as if he never meant to stop and vowing to make her a\nkind and loving husband.\n\nThis he did, for the next day they were wed amidst great rejoicing, and\nthe broom master and the king\u2019s daughter lived happily forever after.\n\n\n\n\n                                   IV\n\n                   ROSE-MARIE AND THE WITCH O\u2019 WOODS\n\n\n                                   I\n\nA long time ago, in a village at the edge of the Harz mountains,\nlived a stone-cutter and his wife, with their children, Eldwald and\nRose-Marie.\n\nThe children were left much alone at home in the little stone cot on\nthe outskirts of the town, for their father was away all day at the\nquarry, and their mother sewed at the burgomaster\u2019s house almost all\nthe year round, leaving them each morning when breakfast was over.\nAfter setting out their luncheon of black bread and cheese, she would\nkiss them and say:\n\n\u201cEat when you are hungry, my children, and _do not go near the woods_.\u201d\n\nNow, there were no fearful beasts or poisonous snakes in the wood. It\nwas a lovely place, with long aisles of green trees carpeted with moss,\nwhere all manner of pretty, harmless, woodland creatures loved to\nplay, and all manner of bright flowers and berries grew among the tall\nferns and brambles.\n\nLovers walked the wood unafraid, and the elders of the village were\nwont to stroll about its edge on sunny Sabbath afternoons.\n\nBut still the sweet, green wood held danger for the little ones, and\nmany a home had been bereft because of it. For in the very heart of the\nwood lived a wicked witch, sometimes seen in the dark, flitting here\nand there like a shadow. They called her the \u201cWitch o\u2019 Woods,\u201d and more\nthan one brave hunter kept a silver bullet in his box for her. For you\nmust know that only a _silver_ bullet will kill a witch. And though no\none had ever been close enough to get a shot at the dreadful creature,\nthe whole village hated and feared her, with just cause, as you shall\nsee.\n\nWhenever a child who was disobedient or naughty strayed into the wood,\nshe changed it into a pretty little rabbit, and hippety-hop it went\nthrough a little tunnel which led straight into her den. And as the\nyears went by and every now and then a child would disappear, the\nvillagers would cry, \u201cThe Witch o\u2019 Woods!\u201d In time there came to be a\nsong about it, which mothers sang to their babies to a sad, sad tune:\n\n      \u201cStay out of the wood\n      If you know what\u2019s good.\u201d\n\nThis song Rose-Marie knew well, as she did the story of the witch, and\nshe never ventured across the great green meadow lying between their\nhouse and the wood, where the geese fed and squawked all day, and where\nshe sometimes must venture for her mother\u2019s five geese when Fritz, the\ngooseherd, who was old and forgetful, failed to drive them home.\n\nOne bright summer morning, Rose-Marie and Eldwald played in front of\ntheir home, and all at once a great butterfly flew over their heads,\nwith wings of purple and gold. For a moment it hovered above them, and\nthen settled on a rose-bush not far away. With a cry of joy, Eldwald\nran toward it, but it sailed in circles just above his reach, leading\nhim out across the meadow toward the wood.\n\nDespite Rose-Marie\u2019s cries, the boy followed it, and though she ran\nafter him as fast as she could, she reached the edge of the wood to\nsee the bit of purple and gold flitting far down its dim aisles, with\nEldwald running after it.\n\nPoor Rose-Marie called and searched for him vainly for some hours, and\nwhen it was noon and he had not returned, she hurried to the village\nand sobbingly broke the news to her mother.\n\nSoon the stone-cutter and a crowd of his neighbors were searching the\nunderbrush of the forest. But though they searched until sunset, and\nall night torches flared among the trees, no trace of the lost boy\ncould they find.\n\nNow all was changed in Rose-Marie\u2019s home. The mother sat all day at the\nwindow gazing with tear-stained eyes at the wood that had swallowed\nup her child. The father came and went, white and silent, and poor\nRose-Marie\u2019s little heart ached and ached for their sorrow, and grieved\nover her lost playmate. Night after night, she lay awake on her little\nbed in the loft, thinking of Eldwald and trying to plan some way\nto find her brother; for she would not believe, as did many of the\nvillagers, that Eldwald was dead, but felt sure that the Witch o\u2019 Woods\nhad turned him into a rabbit, and that he was a prisoner far within the\nheart of the forest.\n\nAs she lay one night watching the stars through her open window, the\nnight wind whispered among the leaves of the vine which wreathed it,\nand the moon, rising like a great golden shield over the tower of the\nchurch, seemed to smile down upon her. A nightingale trilled faintly\nfrom the wood.\n\nIt was as if some far-away voice called her, and springing up, she\nslipped on her gown, and, taking her shoes in her hand, stole softly\ndown the ladder and across the stone floor of the kitchen. She could\nhear her parents\u2019 heavy breathing from the cupboard bed in the corner,\nand trembled as she took down her father\u2019s knapsack from behind the\ndoor, and in the darkness felt for bread and cheese on the shelf\nnearby. Putting these, with a cup, into the knapsack, she opened the\ndoor carefully and stole out into the moonlight.\n\nThe flowers slept, drenched in dew, faintly sweet about her. The trees\nstirred in the soft air, and a bird twittered drowsily in its dream.\nFar away, a dog barked and an owl hooted. The crickets chirped so\nloudly in the grasses as she passed that her heart stood still for\nfear they should waken her mother. They seemed to say, \u201cWhist, whist!\nRose-Marie runs away!\u201d And in the meadow pond the frogs took up the\ncry: \u201cCroak, croak! Rose-Marie runs away!\u201d\n\nEldwald\u2019s pet cock stirred in his sleep and cried shrill and high,\n\u201cCock-a-doodle-doo! Rose-Marie runs away!\u201d And this woke the doves in\nthe house eaves, who murmured peevishly, \u201cCoo-hoo! Who runs away?\u201d\n\nYet, despite all these alarums, little Rose-Marie ran swiftly on across\nthe meadow, and at last came to the edge of the wood. Turning to look\nback at the little stone house sleeping so peacefully in the moonlight,\nthe tears stood in her eyes, and stretching her hands out to it, poor\nRose-Marie cried, \u201cO, good-by, dear home! Good-by! Good-by!\u201d And thus\nsaying, she pushed on into the darkness of the wood.\n\n\n                                   II\n\nOn and on went Rose-Marie, over moss and fern, stopping now and then in\nthe darkness to loosen a bramble from her gown. But save for a stumble\nand a lash from some low-hanging bough, nothing happened to frighten\nher.\n\nAt last, as her feet began to falter, it seemed as if tiny lights\ngleamed here and there through the thickets, and when she sank at\nlength upon a mossy knoll at the foot of a great oak-tree, a faint\nhumming came to her ears, like the far-away singing of gnats, and\nfinally, as she was dropping asleep, the sound seemed to change into a\nkind of chant.\n\n      \u201cSee, oh, see,\n      On every tree,\n      What lamps are shining (ting, ting, ting).\n      They are eyes\n      Of fireflies,\n      To light your wandering (ting, ting, ting).\n      And sweetly sleep, dear Rose-Marie,\n      We watch will keep, and guard o\u2019er thee;\n      And ne\u2019er a danger cometh nigh\n      When fairies chant a lullaby.\u201d\n\nAnd so, to the chime of faint fairy bells, Rose-Marie fell softly\nasleep and dreamed of little Eldwald and their home.\n\nWhen she awoke, the sun was high, though but few of his rays could\npierce the green gloom about her. At her side lay a large leaf heaped\nhigh with bright berries. Springing up, she vainly sought for the giver\nof this gift, but heard nothing save the trickling of a tiny rill\nnearby, and saw nothing but a flash of crimson as a redbird flew before\nher.\n\nAfter a little prayer of thankfulness, she ran to wash her face in\nthe little stream, and ate a hearty breakfast from her store of food,\nfinishing with the fairies\u2019 berries, for she decided it must be those\nlittle people who had gathered them, for fairies always stand ready to\nhelp good children, and when once you start to do a good thing, though\nit seems hard, hundreds of little helpers spring up unseen on every\nside to aid the task.\n\nCheered and refreshed, Rose-Marie went on her way until, at evening\nshe came to a barren, rocky opening in the woods. Through the trees, a\nlong red beam of light seemed pointing like a fiery finger at a dark\npool which lay there, dull and slimy, amid blasted trees and withered\nrushes, which seemed to shrink back from the dead, dark water.\n\nHigh above it towered a cliff, rough with boulders and dark with dusky\npine, and at its base, just beyond the margin of the pool, she could\nsee a dark opening, or cave, which seemed very narrow and deep.\n\nIt was a sad place at all times; but to a little girl alone at\nnightfall, it seemed a frightful place. As she paused, shivering, a\nchant of tiny voices buzzed in her ear:\n\n      \u201cNow human love\n      Must dare and fare\n      Where fairies fear to tread.\u201d\n\nDarkness fell suddenly, strange noises sounded about her, and from the\ncave in the cliff came a faint whimpering sound like the noise of many\nlittle animals crying weakly. With a sinking heart, Rose-Marie knew\nthat this place must be the place she had come so far to seek. This was\nthe den of the Witch o\u2019 Woods.\n\n\n                                  III\n\nGathering courage, Rose-Marie at last ventured into the dark opening\nbefore her. The way led downward; it was slippery, and now and then\ndrops of water fell upon her. At last she came into a small square\nchamber. In one corner was a stone fireplace, wherein a few logs\nsmoldered. Wood was piled on each side. Dried herbs and bones hung from\nthe rafters, and one or two rude shelves were crowded with utensils and\nstrange objects whose names she did not know. A low, rough bedstead\nfilled another corner, and one or two heavy benches were pushed against\nthe walls. Rose-Marie was so busy in staring about her that she did\nnot notice a little person who sat on a low stool by the fire, until\na malicious chuckle startled her, and looking closely, she could just\nmake out in the dim light a little old lady in a dull brown garb, with\nhigh pointed cap pulled well down over a dark little face. Two very\nbright eyes peeped at her, and the witch\u2019s nose went down as her thin\nmouth turned up in a shrill laugh, that echoed through the cavern and\nwas answered by a whimper from somewhere beneath her feet.\n\nRose-Marie\u2019s heart stood still. But she set her lips firmly and made a\nlittle courtesy and said, \u201cGood evening, mother!\u201d\n\nThe Witch o\u2019 Woods jumped up with a startled look on her face.\n\n\u201cHoity-toity! Here is the first mortal that ever spoke to me. Come\nhither, girl, and let me see the only being in the Harzberg who does\nnot fear the Witch o\u2019 Woods.\u201d\n\nAs she stood there leaning on her tall cane, Rose-Marie thought she\nlooked like a figure carved out of brown wood, and so she did, all but\nher eyes, which were piercing, though they did not look unkind now.\n\n\u201cBut I _am_ afraid, ma\u2019am,\u201d said Rose-Marie. \u201cBut I had to come for my\nbrother Eldwald; and O madam, if you have changed little Eldwald into a\nrabbit, I beg that you will release him, for my mother weeps all day,\nand my father cannot work for sighing. I will serve you faithfully and\nwell if you will only let him go.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d said the witch, though she knew it already, being\na witch.\n\n\u201cI am Rose-Marie, the daughter of Hans, the stone-cutter,\u201d answered the\ngirl, with another courtesy.\n\n\u201cGo to the corner cupboard, Rose-Marie, and take down some supper on a\nplatter you will find there, and then we shall see what we shall see.\u201d\n\nIn the cupboard was a nice plump cake, all iced, with a knife lying by,\nand it said, \u201cEat me!\u201d On a shelf above stood a finely baked capon in a\nsilver dish, and it cried, \u201cEat me!\u201d And by its side stood a handsome\nbottle of wine, which gurgled, \u201cDrink me!\u201d And down on the lowest shelf\nof all stood a little brown loaf and an earthen cup of milk, which said\nnothing at all; these Rose-Marie took and placed on the platter as she\nhad been told, and going to a bench near the fire, began to eat with\ngood appetite.\n\n\u201cHum,\u201d said the witch, \u201cnot greedy. Why did you not take the good\nthings in the cupboard, stone-cutter\u2019s daughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, they did not seem suitable for me, ma\u2019am, and I thought that,\nhad you intended such grand provisions for my eating, you would have\nmentioned it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHad you eaten them, you would now be a hare with the others,\u201d growled\nthe witch, very much disappointed.\n\nWhen Rose-Marie had eaten and set away the platter and cup, the witch\nshowed her a pallet where she might sleep. And after a little prayer,\nthe tired girl lay down and slept as peacefully as if she had been in\nher own little bed.\n\nThe Witch o\u2019 Woods sat mumbling by the fire all night long, trying to\nchange Rose-Marie into a rabbit; but try as she could, all her magic\nfailed. For when we send up a thought of thankfulness and ask help of\nthe Love that is ever near, a beam of light comes down like a lovely\nangel and guards us from all harm. So at dawn the Witch o\u2019 Woods sat\ncold and cross by her dead fire, and wondered to find a power greater\nthan her own.\n\nThen she roused Rose-Marie, who hustled about busily, and soon had the\nchamber bright with a crackling fire, clean as a good sweeping could\nmake it, and a hot breakfast smoking before the old witch, who for the\nfirst time in years found herself comfortable.\n\nWhen they had eaten, she took up her staff and a great sack of grain,\nwhich she spilled over the whole room until it fell into every crack\nand crevice.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said she, \u201cI shall try you. If you serve me well three days and\ndo the tasks I set you, you shall go free with little Eldwald; but\nif you fail, he will remain a little hare and you shall be my slave\nforever, and never again see the sun. By the time I return to-night,\nthis spilled grain must be back in its sack, and, mind you, not one\nkernel must be lost!\u201d\n\nAnd with that she went out, and slammed the heavy door behind her,\nbolting it fast.\n\nRose-Marie\u2019s heart sank; but she glanced at the rush-broom in the\ncorner, and crying, \u201cAt least I can try,\u201d set to work. But though she\npersevered until noontime, only a small part of the grain had been\ngathered.\n\nResolved, however, not to despair, she sat down to eat the bread and\ncheese the witch had left out for her, when she heard the whimpering\nthat had frightened her the night before, and seeking for the sound,\nshe opened a trap-door in the floor, to find there a cage filled with\nall kinds of rabbits. These were the poor little children the Witch\no\u2019 Woods had caught, and there was a snow-white one that reached his\nlittle paws through the cage and cried more piteously than the rest,\nwith tears in his little round eyes. And this, she knew, must be little\nEldwald.\n\nBreaking up her food, she divided it among them, and watered them in a\nbowl from a huge piggin of water that stood behind the door. Then she\nswept and cleaned their cage as well as she could through the bars, put\nstraw in it from her pallet, and after caressing and reassuring little\nEldwald, she shut them up again for fear the witch would come.\n\nThen she went back to her task, but began to despair as the afternoon\nwore away and she had made so little progress. At last she sat down by\nthe hearth to weep, and her tears fell into the cold ashes; when far\nabove her head she heard a soft \u201cCooee-cooee,\u201d and found by stepping\ninside, she could look up the chimney, on the rim of which sat six\npretty wood-doves, cooing and preening their feathers.\n\n\u201cCooee, Rose-Marie,\u201d they called; for the fairies had told her story,\nand all the little woodland creatures were ready to help her. \u201cWhy do\nyou weep?\u201d\n\nThen Rose-Marie explained her plight, and down flew the six wood-doves.\nIn a jiffy their sharp beaks \u201cpecked, pecked,\u201d here and there, their\nkeen eyes spying out every grain, and by the time the sun went down,\nthey had filled the sack and left not one kernel outside. Then, with\na soft \u201cCooee,\u201d they disappeared up the chimney, and Rose-Marie, much\nrelieved, set about getting supper, which the witch found smoking hot\nwhen she came in at dark.\n\nShe gasped when she saw the great sack of grain standing in a corner,\nbut, poke and pry as she might, she could not discover one kernel left\nout. So she was forced to sit down to her nice supper, and, looking at\nher as they sat eating, Rose-Marie thought she was not so brown nor so\nwrinkled as she had been.\n\nAt bedtime, after her usual prayer was said, Rose-Marie lay down on\nher hard bed and was soon fast asleep, leaving the witch staring into\nthe fire, and there she sat all night, as before; and, as before,\nher magic failed. In the morning she awoke Rose-Marie, and when they\nhad breakfasted, she emptied a great jar of peas into the ashes, and\nrepeating her commands, she hobbled away. And Rose-Marie thought she\nwas taller and straighter than she had been.\n\nRose-Marie picked up peas and put them into the jar, but gained little\nheadway; and at noon she fed and tended the little captives under the\nfloor.\n\nAnd when, some hours later, she gave up in despair, declaring\nthat the peas seemed to grow more rather than less, she heard a\n\u201cscratch--scratching\u201d at the door, then a \u201cgnawing--gnawing,\u201d and\nfinally, through a tiny hole they had gnawed at the door\u2019s bottom, came\na mole, a squirrel, and a chipmunk; and, bowing low before the weeping\ngirl, they cried:\n\n\u201cWe will help you, Rose-Marie!\u201d\n\nMy, how sharp claws and teeth did fly! How furry coats did flash to and\nfro over the floor, here and there and everywhere, until every pea was\nsafe in the jar, and they whisked out of the hole in the door just as\nthe witch\u2019s steps sounded in the passage outside.\n\nShe came in to find Rose-Marie dishing up supper by the bright\nfireside, and had to confess that every pea was in the jar and the\nsupper the best she had ever eaten, for Rose-Marie had baked little\ncakes in the warm ashes, and set out a pot of honey and one of fresh\nbutter which she had found in the cupboard.\n\nAnd that night it was the same as before: after her prayers were said,\nlittle Rose-Marie slept safely and well, and the magic of the Witch o\u2019\nWoods failed.\n\nTherefore, on the third morning she awoke the girl with a rough shake,\nand when ready to go away, she took two great pails of water and\nemptied them over the stone floor of the cavern, where the water stood\nhigh enough to run over Rose-Marie\u2019s wooden shoes. And bidding the girl\nsee to it that the pails were full when she returned, the Witch o\u2019\nWoods went out, chuckling with glee, for well she knew that no power on\nearth could gather spilled water.\n\nWhen she was gone, poor Rose-Marie climbed on a bench to be out of the\nwet, and cried and cried and cried, and all the little captives under\nthe floor cried with her.\n\nIt was nearly noon, when down the chimney flew a sleek, pretty\nswallow, with so merry a chirp that Rose-Marie smiled before her tears\nwere dried.\n\nWhen he had heard her troubles, he sat for a moment on the mantel-shelf\nwith bowed head, for this, indeed, seemed a task too hard for any bird\nor beast. At last he broke into an excited trill.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d he chirped. \u201cFar, far away to the north, over the icy plains\nof Norway into the ever-frozen fastness of the Arctic night, dwells the\nnorth wind. He alone can help us. If I can find my friend the gull,\nand he can carry the news, and north wind will come, you are saved.\nCheep--cheep.\u201d And off he flew, like a rocket.\n\nBut Rose-Marie was not a whit comforted by his words, for there were\nso many \u201cifs\u201d in the way. And who knew, if the gull found north wind,\nwhether or not he would leave his beloved ice-floes, where he herds his\ngiant flocks of white polar bears, as farmers herd sheep, or drives the\nseals far out to sea, as he blows great gusts over the bergs upon the\npoor ships that flounder at their base.\n\nWho could believe that so great a king would come far south to aid a\npoor little peasant maid? And Rose-Marie\u2019s tears began to flow afresh,\nwhen a little song which her mother had taught her seemed to ring in\nher ears:\n\n      \u201cIf God is All-in-all,\n      His children cannot fear.\u201d\n\nOver and over she hummed the comforting words all the long afternoon,\nwhile the little rabbits whimpered for food, as she could not open\ntheir pen for the water.\n\nBut the world is full of charity for them that follow Love\u2019s way. And\nthe swallow found the gull, the gull found the north wind, and when he\nheard the story of Rose-Marie and the Witch o\u2019 Woods, he laughed long\nand loud, until great icebergs splintered about him; and, wrapping his\nglittering white mantle about him, he flew southward, cooling the air\nas he went, until, for forty years afterward, all Germany talked of the\n\u201ccold summer.\u201d\n\nDown, down he flew, until it was nearly sunset when the forest on the\nHarzberg came in sight. Down, down to the top of the chimney of the\nwitch\u2019s den, and with one kind \u201cHalloo\u201d to Rose-Marie, he blew an icy\nblast down the chimney, which froze the water on the witch\u2019s floor,\nand, cracking it with her broom handle, Rose-Marie soon had it all in\nthe pails again, and by the time the Witch o\u2019 Woods came, the nice, hot\nfire had melted the ice until the great pails stood brimming with water\nand the floor was dry and clean.\n\nAnd then there was a great ado! The Witch o\u2019 Woods shrieked and raged.\nShe shook her enchanted staff at Rose-Marie, and in vain tried to utter\nwords of magic. Failing to do this, she turned, in turn, into a bear,\na wolf, and a great black eagle. But Rose-Marie stood firm by the\nfireplace, and, having now learned that evil had no real power, she did\nnot feel afraid.\n\nFinally, after some moments of such goings-on, the Witch o\u2019 Woods began\nslowly to change back into her own shape. And yet it was not she who\nat last stood there, slender and straight, with shining golden hair\nfalling from a green, leafy crown, but a beautiful fairy, who smiled at\nRose-Marie as if she enjoyed her surprise.\n\nFor love and goodness can change even ugly witches into fairies, and\nthat is what they had done. And the Witch o\u2019 Woods was gone forever,\nand in her place was a lovely fairy of the woods, who loved and\ncherished every woodland creature ever afterward.\n\nThen the fairy, still smiling kindly, opened the door of the little\ncage under the floor, and out trooped a lot of little children, among\nthem little Eldwald, whom you may be sure was clasped in Rose-Marie\u2019s\narms.\n\nThen said the wood fairy:\n\n\u201cCome, let us leave this dark place and go out into the greenwood and\nsunshine. But before I go, you shall all be recompensed.\u201d And, going to\nthe side of the cavern, she drew forth the great treasure of the Witch\no\u2019 Woods--gold and jewels, diamonds, pearls, and rubies--and divided it\namong them.\n\nBut to Rose-Marie she gave the most beautiful of all--a great\npink-hearted pearl, set round with blazing diamonds. \u201cThis,\u201d said the\nwood fairy, \u201cis small pay for the service you have done me; but you\nhave love, the pearl of great price, in your heart, dear, and that no\nmoney can buy, and nothing can take it away. But this jewel shall some\nday crown the diadem of a princess, and Rose-Marie, the stone-cutter\u2019s\ndaughter, shall wear it.\u201d\n\nWhich proved all too true; for years afterward, when Rose was grown\nup, a handsome prince came riding over the Harzberg--But that is\nanother story, for another time.\n\nAnd the wood fairy, with Rose-Marie and the other children, danced out\nof the black cavern into the bright sunshine. And how the birds sang\nabove them in the green boughs! And how the perfume of the flowers came\nfrom the thickets! And the way opened broad and smooth before them as,\nwith filled hands and joyous hearts, Rose-Marie and the other children\nwent home.\n\n\n\n\n                                   V\n\n                       TOODLES AND THE GRAY LADY\n\n\nIf Toodles had not been cross that morning at breakfast, because she\ncould not have nine buckwheats, she might have gone to the pantomime\nwith mamma and Uncle Charles, and all that I am going to tell you would\nnot have happened. But Toodles--her real name was Mary, but Uncle\nCharles called her Toodles, because that was the first word she had\never spoken--got out of her bed \u201cwrong side\u201d (that\u2019s what nurse said).\nShe fretted because it was raining, cried when her hair was combed,\nand was so naughty at the breakfast table that she was sent up to the\nnursery in disgrace, and went to her dolls\u2019 house with her lips stuck\nout and a very deep frown on her pretty little face.\n\nDear me, how the poor dolls suffered that morning! Geraldine, the big\nbisque dolly, was put to bed, after a severe spanking, just because\nshe would shut her eyes when Toodles wanted her to lie on the couch\nand pretend to read from the little Testament, with which Toodles was\nnot allowed to play. Then Cadet, the woolly doll with bead eyes, fell\ninto the cistern when his mother took him out in the back entry for\nwater. There was plenty in the nursery, but it was fun to turn the\ncistern crank and see the water run into the pitcher. But after Cadet\nwas drowned, Toodles felt so sad that she shut up the doll house and\nwent to look for the cat.\n\nIt was Saturday. Mamma and nurse were busy, so the little girl was\nleft alone in the dining-room, where the cat lay asleep, her gray paws\nstretched out before her, and her gray head upon them. Monnie-cat was\ndreaming of mice, for she groaned, snorted, and twitched her claws. But\nToodles did not care anything about that; she picked up the kitty and\nsat herself in the deep window-seat. Monnie yawned reproachfully, and\nstruggled to free herself. Then, I regret to say, Toodles slapped her\nand called her a hateful old thing, bursting into tears, all out of\npure bad temper. Just then cook began to set the table for luncheon,\nand asked Toodles to run up-stairs for the key to the linen closet.\nToodles was usually very obliging, but to-day she said she wouldn\u2019t,\nand was so cross that cook called her a \u201csassy little missy,\u201d which\nmade the tears fall faster than ever.\n\nBy the time luncheon was served, mamma came in with Uncle Charles,\nwho tried to get his niece into a better humor. But she sulked until\nhe took out three pink tickets and said to mamma, \u201cBy the way, Emily,\nhere are tickets to \u2018Humpty-Dumpty.\u2019\u201d Oh, then how Toodles clapped her\nhands! But mamma looked grave and shook her head. \u201cNo, we cannot go,\nCharles, Mary has been too naughty to-day to go anywhere; you can take\ngrandma and Josie.\u201d\n\nToodles cried and cried, \u201cquarts,\u201d she afterward told me; but mamma\nwas firm. So Uncle Charles went after grandma and Josie, and mamma\ntalked to the child for a long time, telling her how she wished to\nsee \u201cHumpty-Dumpty\u201d herself, but would not, because she could not let\nher naughty little daughter go. Then Toodles was sorry, and promised\nto be good, and mamma, after giving her two chocolate wafers, and\nHans Andersen\u2019s tales to read, went back to the sewing, leaving her\nalone with Monnie, who had eaten her luncheon, too, and now purred\nforgivingly as she rubbed against Toodles\u2019 feet.\n\nToodles gave her half of a wafer because she had slapped her--and that\nwas real repentance, for the wafers were delicious--then took her up\nin the window-seat, where she sat blinking her green eyes at the rain,\nwhile Toodles read \u201cThe Elfin Hill\u201d aloud.\n\nWhen it was finished, she said to Monnie, \u201cNow, dear, don\u2019t you wish\nit was all really true, and we could see the elf girls dance in the\nmoonlight?\u201d But Monnie only switched her tail, sitting up so demurely\nthat Toodles cried, \u201cWhy, kitty, you look just like a little gray lady!\u201d\n\nThen a funny thing happened: Monnie\u2019s fur grew long, her paws changed\ninto hands and feet, and she stood up, a little lady with long gray\nhair nearly covering her gray dress.\n\nToodles\u2019 eyes grew round with astonishment as the gray lady spoke in\nsuch a soft little voice: \u201cO dear me, O dear me! So much to be done\nbefore they come,\u201d and then turned to hurry away down a passage which\nseemed to open right in the wall. Toodles started up, for the gray lady\nwas hollow, like a mask, and she remembered that the lizards running\nup and down the elfin hill had said that the elf girls were hollow, so\nhad always to keep front face. \u201cMy! Then this must be the old elf girl\nherself!\u201d and Toodles ran after her as fast as she could. The passage\nwas long and dimly lighted, with doors on either side, which had names\nprinted on them in large gilt letters.\n\nToodles paused long enough to read some of them, and skipped\ndelightedly when on one she saw \u201cLittle Claus,\u201d on another \u201cThe Robber\nGirl;\u201d and on one whence came a cold draught was the name, \u201cThe Ice\nQueen.\u201d From this door she ran away at once, I can tell you! and if you\nhave ever read Hans Andersen, you will know why.\n\nBy this time, the gray lady had turned the corner and gone out of the\npassage. As the door closed behind them, Toodles found herself on a\ngreat heath. It was night, and the wind swept across the dark waste,\nabove which the stars glowed like golden lamps in the far-off sky.\nOn they went, until suddenly they came upon a hillock, which seemed\nto spring up right at their feet. On this Toodles stumbled and fell,\nfrightening a large lizard who sat there. By the time the little\ngirl had seated herself on the top of the hillock, the gray lady had\nvanished. So Toodles sat there saying to herself, \u201cAnd so it is true,\nafter all, and soon the old Norwegian and his sons will come, and the\nelf king\u2019s daughters will dance.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, child,\u201d said a petulant voice close to her ear, as the old\ngray lizard rose on her tail to catch a better glimpse of her in the\ndim starlight. \u201cOf course, as soon as the moon rises, the elf hill will\nopen, and then I fancy we shall see what good society is. I myself am\nunable to go about much, on account of my large family; but I assure\nyou I am well connected, being closely related to the dragon and the\nrockshaft.\u201d\n\nFor some moments the lizard droned on, using such large words that\nToodles could not understand half she was saying and began to get tired\nand cross, when the moon rose suddenly, big and round, over the elfin\nhill, looking so near that the little girl was half afraid, though he\nsmiled on her very kindly.\n\nThen there were sounds of music. The elfin hill opened and seven lovely\nlittle maidens came out, with scarfs of woven moonshine and gowns of\npearly mist. The gray lady (or the old elf girl, as we must now call\nher) followed, her long hair fastened up under a glittering crown.\nAnd she leaned upon the arm of a great rosy old man, whom Toodles\nrecognized, by his bearskin cap and sealskin coat, as the old Norwegian\nhimself. The three sons lay asleep back of the elfin hill, for the elf\nking had turned them out when they had drunk too much wine and shouted\nand trod upon the ladies\u2019 toes in dancing.\n\nNow the elf king joined the group, his high crown shining in the\nmoonlight like a hundred glowworms. The music inside became louder and\nlouder as the musicians marched out on the greensward. Twelve very\nlarge black crickets were the fiddlers, twelve very green grasshoppers\nplayed the bass viol, and six very fat brown locusts beat the drums\nthey carried under their wings.\n\nSo gay was the music and so bright the moonshine that Toodles and\nthe lizard joined hands and danced around the glittering, whirling\ncircle of the elfin folk, where the old Norwegian whirled the elf girl\nuntil her long gray hair fell down. Round and round they circled,\nfaster and faster, until they were but a whirl of color and light.\nLouder and louder shrilled the music. The big moon sailed up into\nthe deeper blue of the sky, as if he, too, marched to the music, and\nas if the stars must hop out of his way or be run over. Faster and\nfaster, until Toodles grew so excited that she sat right down, and fell\nover the elfin hill into their very midst. A shrill chorus of tiny\ncries went up, the dark heath seemed to melt from under the child;\nthe whirling figures vanished; the moon and stars faded out into the\ncheerful firelight of the dining-room; and Toodles found herself on the\nwindow-seat, rubbing her eyes, with Uncle Charles holding out to her\na picture of a funny clown, and mamma smilingly saying, \u201cWhy, you and\nMonnie have both been asleep in the window-seat!\u201d\n\nBut this is just what Toodles ever afterward denied.\n\n\n\n\n                                   VI\n\n                      LITTLE HANS AND THE KOBOLDS\n\n\nA long time ago, near a village of the Oberharz, was a little house\nof rough stone, with gay wallflowers growing in the mossy patches on\nits thatched roof. Its windows were small and crooked, and a bake-oven\nbulged the wall on one side of its low vine-studded door.\n\nIn the clean swept yard, marigolds marched in two yellow ranks up the\nbroken flagged walk, and a tall linden drooped over the attic window of\nits high pitched roof, where little Hans and his sister Gerta slept.\n\nBehind the house was the forest, and then the mountain crags, all very\nquiet, with only a goat\u2019s bell tinkling now and then, or the twit of\na swallow. And up beyond the house and forest and crags was the great\nmountain, the Vorharz.\n\nOn the mountain, the streams ran bright and clear over bolder and\nsmooth, pebbly bottom, lingering in cool ferny places where the\nquaking aspen bent and sweet red raspberries grew.\n\nOn the mountain, the rough crags and peaks loomed barely about the\nshadowy canons and valleys, on up to where the everlasting snows gleam\ncoldly under the starlight, or glow, roseate, in the light of the\ndawning.\n\nLittle Hans was bold and wayward, and if it had not been for Gerta,\nhe would have given their parents no end of care. But she, being a\nyear older, looked after him, and at nightfall she often had to go in\nsearch of him, for he was always running here and there, in forest and\nvillage, even venturing up on the crags, which were brown rocks, bare,\nsave for a bit of juniper or a stunted fir-tree jutting from the side\nof the mountain, with dark caves where the most daring goatherd or\nbravest hunter feared to go.\n\nThese they called the berg caves. And when the oldest grandmother in\nthe village sat before her fire late one afternoon with a little crowd\nof children about her, little Hans stood by her chair to hear her tales\nof the kobolds, who haunted the berg caves. Woe betide him who slept\nbeside one of them, for he would vanish, and the world would know him\nno more, for he toiled deep inside the mountain, a slave to the Kobold\nking, until some one was brave enough to venture by night within the\ncaves and, reaching the king\u2019s throne, demand the prisoner\u2019s release.\nBut never, said the grandmother, never in all the years, had one been\nfound willing to go; and never had one who vanished thus returned.\n\nIt became twilight as she talked, and little Hans\u2019 mother was bustling\nabout in their home setting forth the supper. So Gerta must run to the\noldest grandmother\u2019s house and bring home little Hans.\n\nAt supper, he was full of the kobolds; but his father declared it was\nno good luck to talk of the little folk. \u201cBut father, last night, when\nall were abed, I heard you and mother speak of how poor we are and how\nyou dreaded the long winter coming. In the mountains, father, are all\nkinds of gold and precious stones, Grossmutter says.\u201d But his father\nstopped his chatter, and, supper over, they were soon all abed.\n\nBut long after all was quiet and the cricket was chirping by the\nsmoldering hearth, Gerta heard little Hans mutter in his sleep. \u201cSilver\nand gold and all manner of precious stones;\u201d and when she awoke in the\nmorning, the attic window stood open and little Hans was gone.\n\nHe had climbed from the roof into the linden-tree and gone off in the\nmoonlight to hunt the gold of the kobold king.\n\nGoatherds and chamois hunters for miles around aided in the search for\nhim, as well as the village neighbors; but after a week of seeking, the\nlost boy could not be found, and he was mourned as dead. But not by\nlittle Gerta. She was very sure, in her heart, that he was far within\nthe berg caves, a slave to the kobolds; but as no one believed her, she\nfinally came to say no more about it. Yet every day, as she followed\ntheir goats as they minced daintily along to join the village herd, she\nfell into a way of asking every swift-winged swallow, every darting\nfish, every golden butterfly, \u201cWhere is little Hans?\u201d\n\nOne evening, at sunset, when all the peaks were rose, and all the\nvalleys purple patches on the dusky mountainsides, and the goatherds\u2019\nhorns blew sweet and high as they gathered their flocks,--just then,\nas she stood by the dripping basin of the spring in her garden, she\nsaw a toad slip out from beneath and sit with half shut jeweled eyes,\ndarting his slender tongue to catch the midges dancing in the last\nsunbeams.\n\nAgain little Gerta asked, as she had so often, \u201cOh, where is little\nHans?\u201d And a tiny, lisping voice answered, \u201cServing the kobolds under\nOberharz.\u201d\n\nThe toad then hopped away, and Gerta, hardly believing her ears, could\nnot be sure that it was he who had spoken; yet as he went through\na broken place in the wall, he turned his head and blinked at her\nknowingly. But when she told her father and mother, they thought she\nhad dreamed it.\n\nAll that night little Gerta could not sleep. The tree-frogs chirped\n\u201cLittle Hans,\u201d the sleeping swallows, twittering under the eaves in\ntheir dreaming, seemed to sound his name. A nightingale came and sat\nin the linden-tree, and the moon peered palely in from behind the dark\nlittle bird with the silvery voice singing of lost love and longing.\n\u201cShe means little Hans,\u201d thought Gerta, and two big tears slipped down\nher cheeks.\n\nAt that hour when the world wakes and turns over in its bed to sleep\nagain until sunrise, when the cocks were crowing the shrill high\ncall of the false dawn, she could endure it no longer. Running to the\nwindow, she looked out into the dark, starry sky. The air was chill,\nand she shivered as she began to dress. Taking her little red, hooded\ncloak, she climbed over the window-sill and out into the linden-tree.\n\n\u201cO mother-linden, do not let me fall!\u201d she whispered, and the rustling\nnew leaves seemed to answer, \u201cClimb down and do not fear.\u201d\n\nSoon Gerta was on the ground, soon across the yard and garden, and into\nthe forest. Strange to say, the trees that seemed so dark from her\nwindow seemed now but great lacy fans, through which the stars sparkled\nlike spangles; and a smooth, mossy path lay under her feet, as she\nhurried on, eager to reach the berg caves.\n\nThe trees were now farther apart, and as Gerta went higher, the bare\nrock began to show, with only a bit of juniper or a stunted fir here\nand there.\n\nThen the crags overhung her, and in the starlight the little sister\nclimbed and climbed, cold and dizzy. But she kept on until, as she\npulled herself up over a ledge, she stumbled over something soft and\nfurry, and sat down with a gasp as a small, squeaky voice said crossly,\n\u201cLook where you are going, child; you nearly spoiled my fine velvet\ncloak.\u201d Two bright eyes gleamed at her, and sharp little teeth snapped\nat her hand.\n\n\u201cAh, Herr Mole,\u201d cried Gerta, never heeding his bad temper, \u201ctell me,\nhave you seen little Hans? Is he in the kobolds\u2019 cave?\u201d\n\nHerr Mole was not really cross, and he liked Gerta\u2019s respectful\naddress. On her finger shone a thin silver ring.\n\n\u201cWell, now,\u201d answered he, \u201cI have seen him lately, and if you will give\nme that shining band on your finger for a bracelet, I\u2019ll tell you.\u201d\n\nAfter slipping it on his front paw, Herr Mole continued:\n\n\u201cLittle Hans came this way when the moon was first quarter, and went\nstraight into a band of kobolds making their usual rounds.\u201d\n\nGerta looked about anxiously. \u201cDo not be afraid; it is too near morning\nfor them now. They carried him inside the berg, and if you will go to\nthe entrance up above us there, my friend, the great white owl, will no\ndoubt help you find him.\u201d\n\nSo saying, Herr Mole hurried away, turning his paw this way and that to\nget a good look at his new bracelet.\n\nAt the mouth of the cave, Gerta was stopped by a stern \u201cWho--Who are\nyou?\u201d And there were two fiery balls of light above her head in the\ncenter of the dark arch. But it was only the great white owl, who came\ndown at her call and was very polite when he heard she had been sent\nby his crony, Herr Mole. \u201cOh, yes,\u201d he had seen little Hans go by with\nthe kobolds; but Gerta must give him that shining clasp at her throat\nbefore he would tell her how to follow. Gerta slipped off the little\nbrass cloak clasp and hung it around his neck on her hair-ribbon.\n\nThe great white owl then led her inside the cave and showed her a point\nof light far down in its black depths.\n\n\u201cThat is the light of the kobolds\u2019 fire, and all day and half the night\nmust little Hans delve coals to keep it bright, for if it should die,\nthe kobolds would all fall asleep and not wake again for a thousand\nyears. Do not be afraid of the dark, little Gerta, for to eyes that\nreally see there is no darkness.\u201d\n\nThen Gerta noticed that, though all was black as night, she could see\nquite well indeed, and she left the great white owl sitting like a big\nball of down, his eyes rolling like yellow moons as he craned his great\nround head to admire his necklace.\n\nWalking resolutely on over the slippery, mossy stones, Gerta was\nfinally stopped by a whirr and a shrill \u201cCheet--cheet,\u201d like the twit\nof a swallow and a mouse\u2019s squeak combined. Something big and dark\nfanned her cheek, and down flew a big black bat, menacing her with\nsharp teeth and extended claws.\n\n\u201cGood evening, Frau Bat,\u201d cried Gerta in a trembling tone, for the bat\nlooked very big and fierce. \u201cHave you seen little Hans? The great white\nowl sent me this way in search of him!\u201d\n\nFrau Bat drew back, mollified by this respectful address. \u201cIndeed,\nchild, I have seen little Hans. I know you both from having flitted\npast your attic window many an evening as you went to bed. But before I\ntell you news of him, you must give me that pretty red cloak to line my\nnest.\u201d\n\nSo Gerta gladly laid the cloak at Frau Bat\u2019s feet, who directed her\nhow to slip unseen into the kobold hall, and gave her this counsel:\n\n\u201cDo not speak, laugh, or eat while you are in the hall! Put this bit\nof my fur into your shoe, and you will be invisible to all but little\nHans. And if you can find a way to quench the kobold fires, they will\nall fall asleep for a thousand years, and little Hans will be free.\u201d\n\nThanking her kindly, Gerta passed on, and finally came into a large\nhall, where glittering pendants hung from the high rocky ceiling; and\nall around the room sat queer little brown men, with long beards and\npointed caps, wherein a tiny lamp glared. Taller and stouter and with\na far longer beard of snowy white, sat the kobold king on a golden\nthrone, with a crown of gold on his head; and his light burned brighter\nthan all the rest.\n\nBefore each kobold was a little table laid with a fair white cloth,\nwhereon were rich foods in golden dishes and silver goblets of\nsparkling wine. In the center of the hall was a sort of iron brazier of\ngiant size, and in it flamed a great fire. From time to time a stooped\nblack figure toiled up from a pit behind the king\u2019s throne with a sack\nof coal on its back, and when it came shrinking into the light, jeered\nand taunted by the kobolds, poor Gerta thought her heart would break,\nfor the poor slave who fed the fire was little Hans dressed in sooty\nrags and his fair face and yellow locks black as ink. He rarely lifted\nhis head, but as he turned for more fuel, a kobold, rougher than the\nrest, pushed him against the brazier, and they laughed at his scream\nof pain as the burning sleeve scorched his arm. Gerta, forgetful of\neverything, ran behind the little man, and, catching him by his beard,\npounded him over the head with his heavy silver cup.\n\nThen they all jumped from their seats, rushing about to find what had\nhurt their comrade; but, Gerta, invisible, had slipped through the\ncrowd, beckoned little Hans to follow her, and run down into the coal\npit, where she stifled her brother\u2019s cries of joy in her apron.\n\nAs it was nearly dawn, the time when the kobolds sleep for an hour,\nthey were left alone, for each kobold fell asleep right where he sat\nor stood as the sun began to rise, and the sister and brother plotted\nand planned, though she could speak only by signs, until Hans was again\ndriven to his task, and they began the day\u2019s work of digging the\nprecious ore inside the mountains, and melting it into ingots of gold\nand silver.\n\nHow hungry poor Gerta grew as the day went on! Fortunately, she had in\nher pocket a bit of bread and cheese left from last night\u2019s supper; but\nas night came on again and the fairy tables came up out of the floor at\na nod from the kobold king, it was all she could do not to snatch a bit\nof the rich food they threw about, those more kind even tossing bits to\ntheir little slave.\n\nHungry, and fearing discovery, in spite of the bat fur in her shoe,\nGerta sat all the evening behind the kobold king\u2019s throne, plotting and\nplanning some way to put out the fire, as she could not take Hans away\nwith her, for he was not invisible, and a kobold lamp glowed in the cap\nfitted on his head with a magic word, so that it would not come off,\nhowever hard they pulled.\n\n\u201cI must have help, or I\u2019ll never do it,\u201d she said to herself as the\nlong, dark day dragged on. \u201cI\u2019ll go to Frau Bat and see what she can\nsay.\u201d\n\nSo back went little Gerta, climbing up the long, slippery way from the\nmine until she found Frau Bat asleep, hanging head downward in a most\nalarming way. She was so vexed at being waked that she squeaked and\nshowed all her sharp little teeth, and only said crossly, \u201cI told you\nif the fires went out, they\u2019d all fall asleep and never wake up.\u201d Nor\nwould she say one word more, it mattered not how much Gerta begged.\n\nFinally, in despair, she went farther up, to the cave\u2019s mouth. Over the\ndoor the white owl was perched, like Frau Bat, asleep. When she had\nwakened him by standing on tiptoe and tweaking his tail feathers, he\nsaid \u201cHoo--hoo\u201d very loudly, and would have fallen asleep again, when\nshe cried, \u201cO sir, how can we put out the kobolds\u2019 fire?\u201d\n\n\u201cFire?\u201d said he, sleepily. \u201cWhy water puts out fire. Any _dummkopf_\nknows that, girl!\u201d\n\nAnd to sleep he went, and though she even dared throw some small\npebbles up at him, he never stirred or opened his eyes, until, in\ndespair, she went outside, almost blinded by the lovely evening\nsunshine that flooded the crags with light and made every leaf and\nberry as bright as a jewel in a queen\u2019s diadem.\n\nAfter some searching among the rocks, she found Herr Mole\u2019s house,\nwhere he, too, was curled asleep in his fine, black velvet cloak, with\nher ring shining on his little black paw in fine style. He was sleepily\nstupid, and all he could answer to her questioning as to how she was to\nget water on to the kobolds\u2019 fire was, \u201cOn top of the mountain there\u2019s\na spring. Go away, child; if I lose my regular sleep, my cloak loses\nits gloss.\u201d\n\nIn vain Gerta begged him to tell her how a spring on top of the\nmountain could help her put out the kobolds\u2019 fires far underground; all\nhe would do was to yawn and keep murmuring, \u201cI must get my sleep--I\nmust get my sleep.\u201d\n\nIt was getting along toward evening, and Gerta could see the smoke\nfrom her home curling up, a faint blue streak against the rosy sky.\nShe was hungry and discouraged; but she reasoned that if she went\nhome, they would not let her return, nor, indeed, believe any of her\nqueer adventures. So, not knowing what else to do, she climbed up on\nthe bergside, pausing now and then to eat the berries which jeweled\nthe bushes on every side. When she had climbed a long way, she heard a\ngreat screeching and flapping of wings over her head, and looking up,\nsaw a great eagle flying about, uttering the most piercing cries. Then\nshe saw the trouble it was in. One of its young had fallen from the\nnest, and its legs had caught under a stone that its fall dislodged.\nAnd there it lay, almost at Gerta\u2019s feet, its bright little eyes\nglazing and its little beak only croaking feebly. Taking the stone in\nboth hands, Gerta dropped it over the cliff. She then lifted the young\nbird in her apron, and, climbing up on a high ledge, laid it down,\nwhere the old birds soon ministered to it; and after a while, Gerta saw\nit rise and hop feebly about.\n\nThen the eagle cried down to Gerta, in its high, harsh voice, \u201cThank\nyou, child. If you need help, call for the eagles, and you shall find\nit near at hand by the time of a wing\u2019s fanning.\u201d\n\nOn climbed Gerta in the dying sunshine, determined at least to reach\nthe spring on top of the mountain, as the creatures seemed to think it\nmight aid her, though she had not the faintest gleam of an idea as to\nhow it could do so.\n\nComing around a sharp corner where stood a small, stout pine-tree, she\nheard a faint, panting cry, and saw a little red squirrel lying limply\nagainst a limb, faint and bleeding, while a large hawk pecked and\npierced him with his sharp beak till all poor squirrel\u2019s fuzzy sides\nwere red.\n\nSeizing a stone, Gerta threw it straight and true, and it landed on the\nhawk\u2019s back with such a bang that, hurt and frightened, he flew away,\nscreaming in disappointment.\n\n\u201cYou have saved my life, child,\u201d chattered the squirrel, \u201cand should\nyou need help, call on the squirrel, and he will come.\u201d\n\nThanking him, Gerta hurried on, and reached a large, dark spring almost\non top of the mountain just as the sun went down, and sat down beside\nit, as the twilight fell, a lonely, tired little soul, almost at the\nend of her endurance. So she added a few more drops of water to the\nspring by weeping into it. But then the stars came out, so calm and\nbright that they seemed to cheer her as she thought how changeless\nthey were. As she glanced back to earth, she saw a gleam from a nearby\ncrevice, and, looking nearer, saw to her wonder that she could look\nright down into the kobolds\u2019 cave, where the kobolds were about to wake\nfrom their day\u2019s rest, and were even now shoving and pushing little\nHans about.\n\n\u201cWater puts out fire,\u201d said little Gerta, and clapped her hands at\nthe idea. If she could but turn the waters of the spring down upon the\nkobolds\u2019 fire! If a channel were made to turn the spring into the cave\nall at once in one grand splash, out would go the fire, and little Hans\nwould be free!\n\n\u201cNow it\u2019s time for the squirrels to help me,\u201d said Gerta, and she\ncalled, \u201cCome, little fuzzy-tails, come and help little Gerta!\u201d\n\nThen from every side came a chattering, bright eyes flashed, plumy\ntails waved. Strong, tiny claws scratched, scratched, at the loose dirt\nand stones, and soon the waters of the great spring began to drip, to\nrun, and then--splash! They went down the crevice in the ceiling of\nthe kobolds\u2019 cave, soaking the great brazier with its flaming coals,\nflooding the cavern deeply all about; and each little brown kobold man\nsat or lay asleep, just where he was, and little Hans fled quickly up\nthe steep, dark way to the cave\u2019s mouth, free at last!\n\nBut now, alas! in the starry darkness Gerta stood alone on the\nmountain, and the liberated spring had cut a deep chasm between her and\nthe road by which she had come. The round moon rode up the eastern sky\nand peered kindly at her. She could hear little Hans\u2019 shrill call of\n\u201cGerta, O Gerta!\u201d but she could not go to him.\n\n\u201cOh, now I must have wings to descend, indeed,\u201d cried little Gerta, and\nclapping her hands she called, \u201cHelp from the great eagles!\u201d And, sure\nenough, black wings flashed between Gerta and the moon, and two great\neagles caught her by her stout little homespun gown, and down, down\nthey flew to the cave\u2019s mouth, where the sister and brother were soon\nclasped in each other\u2019s arms.\n\n\u201cNow home,\u201d said Gerta to little Hans. \u201cAnd mother will certainly have\nto give us a hot supper.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                  VII\n\n                            THE MOUSE MILLER\n\n\nIn the olden times, the city of Perth was a dour city, even when the\nsun shone, for the houses were tall and narrow and sad colored, and\nlittle and crumbling, and the streets were narrow, too, and muddy. But\nwhen the winter\u2019s mist blows in from the north seas and December\u2019s\nsleets begin, then it is a very cold and dreary place, indeed.\n\nSo young David found it one winter\u2019s morning, when the night mail had\ngalloped and creaked and snorted up to the door of the Boar\u2019s Head Inn.\nHis father had just passed away in Dunfermline, leaving but a hut,\nan acre, and a cow; and his mother, having much ado to find food for\nherself and the cow, sent David, a gawk of a lad of sixteen, to Perth\nto a cousin, of whom, save for his name and trade and the memory of a\nfairing with him when she was as young as her son, she knew nothing. So\nyoung David, when he got out of the coach, had no notion as to where\nhe should go.\n\nA servant stood at the door of the Boar\u2019s Head, holding it open for\nthe travelers, and from the icy pavement David glimpsed a bright fire,\na neatly sanded floor, and a counter with shining bottles and plates\nof smoking hot food set out on it. But, having only a few pence, he\nwas afraid to go in, and was turning away with his bundle over his\nshoulder, when the man cried:\n\n\u201cIn wi\u2019 ye, lad! and have a hot cup of tea and an oat-cake for a penny.\u201d\n\nSo David, thus encouraged, went inside and stole into the\nchimney-corner to sit on a great settle, where he was soon warm and\ncozy, with his earthen mug of steaming tea and a well buttered oat-cake\nto eat with it. As the servant gave him his breakfast, David asked if\nhe knew of a tradesman by the name of Alexander Hutton; but the fellow\nshook his head, and David, after his breakfast was finished, sat gazing\ninto the fire, wondering what to do next, when he heard an old man\nacross the hearth from him, seated on a settle as tall as his own,\nlaugh.\n\n\u201cZander Hutton, a tradesman,\u201d he cried, and his funny, brown face\nwrinkled up like a nutcracker under his sparse white hair. \u201cHey,\nlad, there beant many in Perth now who know Zander; but we were both\ntradesmen fifty years ago. By good thrift, I saved, and live in ease;\nbut old Zander dwells up an alley beyond the cathedral. Ask for the\nragpicker, and you\u2019ll find him.\u201d\n\nNow was poor David more aghast than ever. That he had come to seek aid\nfrom a ragpicker promised badly; but he paid his penny at the bar and\nwalked out into the cold, gray morning, turning toward the gold-crossed\nspires of the cathedral. \u201cAt least,\u201d he thought stoutly, \u201cZander Hutton\nmay know of some way I can get my living, even if he does pick up rags\nfor his own.\u201d\n\nUp the long High Street, around the cathedral close, and then down\na narrow, miry alley, with the odds and ends of the backs of houses\nsticking out into it, and all the odds and ends of Perth\u2019s poor folk\nsticking out of them, overflowing windows and doors, cursing, laughing,\nfighting, singing; and right in the midst of it all was a dingy, low,\ndirty shop, with a wooden stair outside, leading to a dingier, dirtier\nattic above, and this was the place David had come to seek. Inside,\nthe room was piled high with rags and bottles, with sacks of bones and\nheaps of rubbish of every description; and right in its midst sat a\nlittle, old, red-eyed man, on a broken stool, who could hardly be told\nfrom the other rubbish, so brown and dirty and ragged was he. And yet,\nwhen David spoke his name, he answered civilly enough and got off the\nstool to open the half-door, which he kept barred, he explained, to\nkeep out the bad boys, who were the torment of his life. Even as David\nwent inside, a gang of ragged street urchins yelled about the door:\n\u201cOld rags--old tags! Old ragged, tagged Zander! Where\u2019s your gold, Old\nTags? Bring out the bags of money you count so late at night in your\nattic.\u201d\n\nThen followed shrieks and yells and catcalls, and David, who had been\ntaught in his village to respect age, ran out angrily upon them, and\nsoon dispersed them with his cudgel.\n\n\u201cCome in, stranger lad,\u201d old Zander chuckled, patting him on the back.\n\u201cNow what can I do for so brave and fine a lad?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am David, your cousin Allyce\u2019s son,\u201d said David, \u201cand I\u2019ve come to\nPerth to seek my fortune, as my mother is a widow and too poor to help\nme. She told me you had a kind heart and would find me work.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so I will,\u201d said the old man. \u201cIn this very fine shop there is\nmuch to do,--bottles to sort, rags to pick, chains to weigh, and a long\nbeat to walk up and down the alleys of the town, and my old legs grow\nlame and my back stiff under my pack. You shall have a penny a day,\nAllyce\u2019s David, lodge above the shop, and feed yourself save for a wee\nbit o\u2019 porridge of a morning. Come, I\u2019ll show you where to take your\nbundle.\u201d And he hobbled nimbly outside into the alley and up the broken\nwooden stair, with David following with a very wry face; for if you set\nout to make your fortune, you would never think to begin at ragpicking\nat a penny a day.\n\nThe attic was dark and cold and dirty, like the shop, and such of his\nstock as Zander could not put in the shop was piled here. There were\na ragged mattress on the floor, a few battered pieces of furniture,\nand David was right glad to throw down his bundle and descend with his\ncousin to eat a scanty meal of porridge, which the old man scraped into\na cracked bowl from a pot hanging above a very small fire in the back\nof the shop.\n\nThen \u201cTo work--to work,\u201d the old man cried. And all day long, until the\nlights came out and the big cathedral bell tolled six, did his cousin\nZander keep David hard at it. Then he gave him a penny and showed him a\ncart around the corner where a man sold a bit of bread and dripping and\na cup of coffee for just that much. And tired and half fed, David went\nto his cold bed at the end of his first day in Perth.\n\nAll that long, cold winter David picked rags, sorted rags, collected\nrags; never quite warm, never quite well fed; and the chief of his\ndiscomfort lay in the mice that infested his attic. They nibbled his\nclothes by day and raced across the floor at night, even daring to\nfrisk over his bed, until, in despair of getting rest and sleep, he\nfell to making little traps for them, and finally caught them all save\none, the oldest and wisest, who was, indeed, the king of all the mice,\nthough David, of course, did not know that. He did know, however, that\nhe vainly saved bits of bacon and cheese from his scanty supper, and\nvainly baited this trap and that; the King of Mice frisked about the\nattic unafraid, until he became a pet instead of a pest, and ran out\nto feed on the choice bits that David carried in his pockets.\n\nOutside the attic window was the roof of a tenement, and here prowled a\ngreat black tomcat, gaunt and hungry, like all the alley cats, preying\nupon sparrows and unwary pigeons, and often, on moonlit nights, peering\nmalevolently through the window-panes upon David\u2019s mouse.\n\nOne night Zander came up for some of his plunder and opened the window,\nand David, entering a few moments later, saw Tom spring from the window\nwith poor mousy in his teeth. Through the window went David after the\ncat, and though the roof was slippery and steep, he climbed intrepidly\nup to the very comb, and there had the luck to seize Sir Tom by his\ntail, and in the mew of pain he let out, the mouse fell from his jaws,\nscuttled down the tiles, and was soon safe up a drain-pipe, where all\nTom\u2019s mewing or scratching failed to reach him.\n\nThat night Davy had a queer dream. He thought that he saw his mouse\ngrown taller and walking on his hind legs with much dignity. Six\nmilk-white lady mice held up his tail, and on his head was a very shiny\ngold crown. Around him came mice of every size, kind, and color, and\nthey all paid him homage and cried, \u201cHail to the king!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis human,\u201d said he to an old white-whiskered fellow at his side,\nwhose collar and mace proclaimed him a chancellor, \u201chas saved the\nking\u2019s life, and all my subjects must now serve him. He came far to\nseek his fortune and found only hard fare and uncongenial tasks. Yet\ncheerfully and well has he done them, and to-morrow he shall find his\nreward.\u201d\n\nThen all grew dark, the mice disappeared, and old Zander was calling to\nDavid from the foot of the stair that it was dawn, and he must start\nearly on his tour of the town. So, with pack on back and stick in hand,\nDavy started out, whistling, just as the town was waking, thinking of\nhis strange dream and half believing that something would come of it.\n\nYet nothing new came his way that day, save that his rounds took him\npast the back door of a mercer\u2019s shop, where a pretty girl called out\nto him to come and take away the rubbish from their bin. He entered a\nsmall, low room, where sat five or six women, laughing and chatting\nand winding linen thread on little reels for the shop. As he emptied\nthe rubbish bin, the shopman called out to them to hurry, and the girl\nwho had smiled on Davy answered somewhat pertly that if there was some\nfaster way to wind thread, they would certainly get through sooner, as\nthey made little enough as it was.\n\nLater in the day, David passed the prison windows where the French\nprisoners were confined, and stopped with a small crowd that lingered\nthere, intent on a very ingenious cage which one of them had made, with\na wheel at one end turned by a treadmill, wherein a pretty squirrel ran\nround and round.\n\nThat night the wind blew so that the whole house shook, and the crazy\nwindows rattled and the shutters banged, until sleep quite left Davy,\nand he lay thinking over his dream of last night and of his day\u2019s\nrounds. And all at once there popped into his head an idea. The thread\nwomen turned the reel over and over to wind their thread; if bobbins\nwere strung on a post that turned, why could you not wind many at a\ntime, and if one had a wheel like the French prisoner\u2019s, why would that\nnot wind the thread better than the hand?\n\nHe fell asleep turning the idea over in his mind, and dreamed of his\nmouse again. This time the mouse said, \u201cTo-morrow I send my subjects\nto aid you,\u201d and sure enough, in a forgotten trap set far back in a\ncorner, Davy found three pretty, bright-eyed little mice, who did not\nseem at all afraid. And you may be sure that Davy was early back at\nthe prison window, studying the wheel cage. And that night he started\nmaking one, and by the light of his tallow dip, secreted from Zander\u2019s\nscant store, in an evening or two he had as neat a cage for his mice as\nhad the French prisoner for his squirrel, only across its end were four\nreels strung, and by much coaxing he got a penny from old Zander and\nbought a little thread. That night it was quickly and smoothly wound,\nand he sold it for two pennies the next day.\n\nAnd this was the beginning. He fed his little winders well, and as more\ncame into the trap, let each three go free. And always more came, and\nmore, until there was quite a row of little cages, and Zander wondered\nto find his young ragpicker get fat and rosy, for his thread now kept\nhim well fed.\n\nDays went by. Spring came, and old Zander went out with the winter,\nleaving his shop and rags to Allyce\u2019s boy, with a bag of coins, not\ngold, indeed, as the street boys had cried, but enough to clean out the\nshop, buy thread and materials for wheels, and start Davy up a thread\nmanufactory. For he now began to make reels that were turned by hand,\nwinding twenty bobbins at once, and his little mice were long ago set\nfree.\n\nIn a year he had moved from Zander\u2019s alley and set up in a decent\nstreet, with his mother, come from Dunfermline, to keep his house.\n\nAnd because he must needs tell his mother how he had set about making\ntheir fortune, and women\u2019s tongues must ever clack, and the good woman\nmust needs tell every old gossip of the kirk, the folk of Perth began\nto call young David the \u201cMouse Miller.\u201d And though he became rich and\nfamous, and married the pretty girl who smiled at him from the back\ndoor of the shop, until this day Allyce\u2019s David is known as the \u201cMouse\nMiller.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                  VIII\n\n                           ALICY\u2019S ADVENTURE\n\n\nOne summer morning Alicy got up with a frown on her face, and it didn\u2019t\ncome off even at a very nice breakfast, so mamma suggested that she\ntake a walk about the big back garden and see if she could find a smile\nto put on.\n\nShe walked down the gravel path and around the shrubbery out of sight\nof the house, where there was nothing but grass and trees and some\ntall, gay dahlias. It was quite like being far away, and she often came\nhere to play \u201clost child,\u201d a play where you built a house of branches\nand leaves and eat lunch from flat stones, pretending that you are a\nlittle girl lost in the jungles.\n\nLooking up at the clear blue of the sky and walking amid the whispering\ngreenness of the leaves, you would have thought that Alicy should have\na lovely smile right there; but the dark old pout lay on her little\nface like a veil and only lifted a little as she spied a nice pink box\ntied neatly with a silver cord, lying on a pile of rock. Alicy opened\nit eagerly and piff-puff, out popped three lovely little fairies all\npink and blue and gold, and flit, flirt, off they flew singing like\nfinches, happy to be free.\n\n\u201cO,\u201d cried the surprised little girl and \u201cO! O! O!\u201d growled a deep\ncross voice beside her.\n\n\u201cO you horrid girl, you have let out my flower fairies, and now there\nis no one to make me a crown for my wedding. I have a good mind to\npinch you black and blue.\u201d\n\n\u201cO, O-wee.\u201d This time it was Alicy, for what she had thought was a pile\nof brown boulders was a little hard-faced rock woman with buttons made\nof shining pebbles and grass for hair. Poor Alicy jumped and rubbed a\nred spot on her knee where the rock woman had pinched her.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the rock woman, \u201cyou will certainly have to go and hunt\nthem for me. You take this pink pebble in your mouth and go among the\ngrass people and maybe they can help you find my fairies again. Hurry\non!\u201d and she gave poor Alicy such a kick that she flew into a clump of\nblue-grass, and found herself grown so small that the grass all about\nher looked like tall forest trees; for the pink pebble had made her as\nsmall as an ant.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said Alicy, \u201cI have four things to hunt for instead of one. A\nsmile, and three flower fairies. Poor Bo-peep, I know how she felt out\nhunting for those tiresome sheep; though a smile and three fairies\nhaven\u2019t three tails to bring behind them. Ha! Ha!\u201d And that thought\nmade her laugh aloud; and right in the path Alicy found a little golden\nsmile which she tried on and, looking in a dewdrop on a nearby leaf,\nshe found that it fitted exactly and was immensely becoming.\n\nCheered up by her good fortune she went on and met a file of ant\nsoldiers all in black, shiny uniforms marching out to bring in the ant\ncows, which are little green aphids that they pasture on the under side\nof oak leaves. Their captain was very polite, as are all grass people,\nand in answer to her questions about the possible whereabouts of the\nflower fairies he told her that if she would catch a young grasshopper\nand ride him she would reach the fairy dell where they had no doubt\ngone.\n\nAfter they had all saluted and marched off down the road, Alicy sat\ndown in the cool shade and taking some grass plaited a little halter\nand started out to catch one of the grasshopper colts frisking about\nin the pasture; but a big fat caterpillar came up and very fiercely\ndemanded, \u201cWhat are you doing with my horses?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I didn\u2019t know they belonged to anybody,\u201d faltered Alicy, \u201cI just\nwanted one to ride to the fairy dell. I would have turned it loose\nthere.\u201d My, how the caterpillar worked all of his legs, he was so mad!\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a good thing for you that you are not a boy,\u201d growled he. \u201cI hope\nthat you didn\u2019t really mean to steal a horse, but I tell you the Anti\nHorse Thief Association will get you if you are up to such tricks long.\nNow beat it!\u201d\n\nFrightened at his angry manner and the long name he called her with\nsuch an ugly word as thief in it, Alicy made up her mind that he meant\nby \u201cbeat it\u201d that she must go away, and she took to her heels like a\ngood one; until finally quite out of breath, she sat down and cried a\nlittle.\n\nThen she heard a squeak, squeak under her and found that she was almost\nsitting upon a funny, green-eyed, field-mouse, who wagged her whiskers\nin a friendly way and said, \u201cI am Milly Mouse. Who are you?\u201d After\nhearing Alicy\u2019s story, she rubbed her sleek head with her little claw\nawhile, thoughtfully, and then said, \u201cI think I can help you a bit;\nlook in the path before you, right there! Go in there;\u201d and with a\nswish of her tail, she whisked out of sight into a hole in the ground.\nAlicy looked all around and finally saw a large orange-colored ball\nwith a little window in one side, like the candy eggs you get at\nEaster. It was too large to pick up so she knelt down and looked in\nthrough the glass. Inside she saw a lovely landscape. Around a tiny\nlake grew red and white roses, all bright with sunshine; a fairy prince\nin green and gold armor and glistening filmy wings parted the roses\nand came down to the lake. As she looked he blew a call on his golden\ntrumpet and six white swans came sailing up to the bank where a pretty\nshell-like boat rocked gently. He fastened this to the swans with a\nsilken ribbon, and then he looked straight through the little window at\nAlicy and cried, \u201cAll aboard to the fairy dell!\u201d\n\nAlicy saw that what she thought was a window was really a door, and\nshe turned a knob, opened the door, and walking down to the lakeside\nwas in the boat before you could say Jack Robinson. And there she sat\nbeside the fairy prince while the swans pulled the boat over the clear,\nlovely water as they swam gently away.\n\nIn thinking of it afterwards, Alicy couldn\u2019t remember a thing the fairy\nprince said, but no doubt it was because she was so taken up in gazing\nat the lovely, sheeny wings and the darling little gold crown on his\nhead. The scent of the roses on its banks were wafted over the little\nlake by a cool breeze, and the wings and feet of the swans made a soft\npaddling in the water that soon made Alicy sleepy, and despite her\ndetermination to look at the fairy once more to see whether his wings\nwere feathers or just little moving sparkles of light, her eyes closed\ntightly and when she opened them again, it was dark and she could see\nnothing save one big star looking down at her between the branches of a\ngreat oak-tree.\n\nShe smelled violets so strongly that it reminded her of the time, when\nshe was very little, that she poured all of mamma\u2019s best perfume over\nher kitty. They still call that cat \u201cVi,\u201d although her name was really\n\u201cTegums.\u201d Turning over on the soft moist pillow under her cheek she\nfound that she was lying on a bed of white violets and that all about\nher in the trees and on the grass tiny lights were beginning to twinkle\nand a faint far-away chorus of tiny voices was singing, hardly louder\nthan a cricket\u2019s chirp:\n\n      \u201cSee, oh, see,\n      On bush and tree,\n      What lamps are shining!\n      Ting, ting, ting!\n\n      \u201cThey are eyes,\n      Of fireflies,\n      To light our wedding,\n      Ting, ting, ting!\u201d\n\nThe singing was all mixed up with a lovely little chime of silver bells\nand Alicy sat up in delight. Surely this must be the fairy dell she\nhad been seeking. She was lying in a tiny valley and about her rose\nthe violet covered banks. And now that she was fully awake, she could\nsee hundreds of little fairy houses all lighted up, and many delicate\ncreatures, no higher than your thumb, coming down among the violets,\ncarrying gold and silver lanterns, which were really little cages with\nfireflies shut inside, giving out a clear green light.\n\nHigh above all this, on a glittering throne, sat a lovely being larger\nand more beautiful than even the fairies themselves, and this was the\ngreat Titania, their queen. Her eyes were soft and sweet like mother\u2019s\neyes, and her smile so kind that Alicy was not afraid, but ran and\nknelt before her throne. Titania spoke in a soft voice, like waterfalls\ngoing over boulders, \u201cAnd what does the earth-child ask of the fairies?\u201d\n\nThen Alicy told of her travels in search of the truant fays, and as she\nfinished, Titania waved her hand and called, \u201cViolet, Anemone, Fern,\u201d\nand three fairies, violet, pink, and green clad came floating up the\nvalley to where the queen sat. \u201cNow,\u201d said Titania, \u201cyou must give them\neach a gift for a wedding portion and they will return with you to make\nDame Bolder\u2019s crown.\u201d\n\nSo Alicy took her little scissors from her pocket and cut off a golden\ncurl. \u201cGood,\u201d cried the queen, \u201cthat will make Violet a capital\nmattress.\u201d Alicy took out her little silver thimble next, and Fern, who\nwas a knight with a long green plume in his hat cried, \u201cSplendid! Now I\nwill have a cuirass that no beetle can pierce.\u201d Alicy then took off her\nlittle gold ring with the turquoise buckle and Anemone was delighted to\nown so elegant a belt.\n\nThen they all kissed Alicy and laughed and danced about her, the lovely\nqueen smiling down on them with her starry eyes, and all of the little\nfairy houses sparkled in the light, and the fairy folk, with the\nfirefly lanterns, came up and joined in the dance till Alicy became\ndizzy with the music and the whirl and flash of light in her eyes.\n\nAnd then it was the flash of sunshine in her own garden and mother\ndear, instead of Titania, leaning over her laughing.\n\n\u201cWhy, sweetheart, you found your smile in slumberland.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, mother, I found it in the fairy dell. Oh, where are the flower\nfairies to make Dame Bolder\u2019s wedding crown?\u201d but mother only said,\n\u201cYou have been dreaming, dear, come in to luncheon;\u201d but Alicy knew\nbetter, though it is of no use to talk to grown-ups, as you know. So\nshe quietly followed her mother into the house; but mark this,--the\nnext day she found her ring and thimble on the bolder pile, and growing\nthere were two lovely flowers, anemone and violet and the green fronds\nof a feathery fern. So she knew that the fairies had made Madam\nBolder\u2019s wedding crown as Titania had promised.\n\n\n\n\n                                   IX\n\n                        JEHAN THE GOLDHAIRED[A]\n\n\n                                   I\n\nThere was once a village lad whose name was Jehan, but because of the\ngolden curls that covered his head they called him \u201cGoldhair;\u201d and\nbecause he chose to sit at home and read his grandame\u2019s parchment\nbook of knightly glory and fairy gold, while the other lads tilled\nthe fields or roamed the woods, they called him a milksop, and he was\nlaughed at and sometimes roughly treated by his parents and elder\nbrothers. But his aged grandame, who dwelt in a lonely tower on a\nheath, and who was called the \u201cwise dame,\u201d would shake her staff at\nthem and prophesy fame and fortune for her favorite.\n\n[A] From William Morris\u2019 \u201cGoldilocks,\u201d published by Thomas Crowell &\nCompany.\n\nIt was in the high tide of summer and all the villagers were in the\nupland fields cutting grain. Indeed, so large were the wheat-fields\nof Goldhair\u2019s countryside, that it was called \u201cThe Land of the\nWheaten-shocks,\u201d and Goldhair was often named in derision, \u201cMy Lord of\nWheaten-shock.\u201d Early one morning as the household ate the porridge\nand yellow cream which the serving wench poured in earthen bowls,\nGoldhair came into the rush-lighted kitchen, his grandsire\u2019s sword\nclanking along the flagged floor. For, though they tilled the soil,\nthe forebears of his family had worn armor and fought under a crested\nbanner.\n\nGoldhair was a brave sight that morning with his coat of scarlet and\nhis hosen of green; a pheasant\u2019s feather curled from his cap; a scrip\nhung over his shoulder, and he girded the good sword at his side.\n\n\u201cWhither away, son Jehan, when my wheat hangs heavy for the sickle?\u201d\nthus his father.\n\n\u201cWhither away, son Jehan, when the water buckets await thee at the\nwell, that the reapers may not be athirst?\u201d cried his mother.\n\n\u201cWhither away?\u201d said his little sisters, \u201cand why do you wear your\nholiday dress, Jehan?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhither away?\u201d chorused his three great brothers, their smocks\nupgirded for the reaping and their brown arms and legs bare.\n\n\u201cI go into the wide, wide world,\u201d answered Jehan, \u201cto seek fame and\nfortune and to bring back the nut-brown fay for a wife.\u201d\n\nNow I must tell you that in an ancient wood nearby there dwelt a fay, a\nlovely creature with long, brown hair that clothed her like a garment.\nShe seemed to serve and love all the woodland beasts and birds, and\nthey often heard her sing there at twilight. Many a lad spent hours\ntrying to catch a glimpse of her, but heard only the flitting of a\nlight body through the leaves and a laugh like a wood bird\u2019s call.\n\nWithin the depths of the wood, there stood a ruined castle. Though its\ndrawbridge was gone and its moat a mere reed-grown swamp, the great\niron gates stood closed and none had ever dared to scale its massive\nwalls; for at night when the wind rocked the great old forest trees\nand the screech-owls cried weirdly, strange lights flickered in its\niron-barred windows and strange wails echoed from its vine-covered\nwalls. It was to this fearful place that Goldhair had full intent of\ngoing, though he dared not say so, for fear they would forcibly detain\nhim. So, amid the jeers of his brothers, the reproof of his father,\nand the tears of his mother and sisters, he set out to seek his fortune\nin the wide, wide world and to bring back the nut-brown fay.\n\n\n                                   II\n\nAs the sun rose, Goldhair stepped into the dim aisles of the forest and\n\n      \u201cThe autumn drought, and the winter rain,\n      The frost and the snow, and St. David\u2019s wind,\n      All these that were time out of mind,\n      All these a many times shall be\n      Ere the Upland Town again he see.\u201d\n\nHe pressed on to where no birds\u2019 notes sounded, nor any noise of life\nbroke the silence, save the soft rustle of some leaf, or the silver\ntinkle of a stream. Six nights Goldhair lay down under the moonless\nsky. Six days he walked alone in the wood and his scrip was empty of\nfood and he was footsore and weary when he arose on the seventh morning.\n\nBefore him, the trees seemed to open into a softly lit glade and he\ncaught a glimpse of a white beckoning hand, and hastening forward, fell\nover a great moss-hidden stone and was set upright again by a strong\narm, while sweet lips brushed his cheek and he saw before him the\nsparkling eyes and shining face of the nut-brown fay. She was clad in\na brown kirtle, all rent and shredded like the falling bark of an old\ntree. Her snowy feet were bare and a rustic scrip hung at her side. Now\nshe took from her scrip and gave him rosy apples and brown cakes and a\nshell with which she dipped him water from a rivulet nearby, and they\nsat them down together on the grass and began to dine as if they were\nold friends.\n\n\u201cO fair one with golden hair, and so bravely scarlet clad, what is\nthe name of thee?\u201d asked the fay, and he told her his name and his\ncondition and of how he had set out in quest of fame and fortune.\n\n\u201cBut now,\u201d said Jehan, shaking his gold hair so that it sparkled, even\nin the dark wood, \u201cI want but one thing and that--that you love me as I\ndo love thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so I will,\u201d said the brown fay heartily, \u201cand fame and fortune\nwill come to thee if thou art a faithful lover and fearless knight. But\nmany trials must assail us and I have great fear for thee, for already,\nshe who sits in the gray death hall knows you have come; and amid the\nshadows of evil that obey her will, she is plotting our destruction.\nLong have I served, a thrall in her hall and bower, and now it will be\nno easy thing for you to win me and my fortune from her.\u201d\n\nLater when they had come where they could look across the clearing\nthe fay cried to Jehan, \u201cLook forth, O my Goldhair, and see what thou\nseest,\u201d and Goldhair looked and said, \u201cI see an exceedingly high and\nhandsome castle of rough-hewn stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that is my mistress\u2019 home, and I fear to look upon it. What comes\ndown the stony stair, Goldhair?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo great white bear?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, him I would kill with my sword.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo great winged serpent?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, her I would chop with my sharp blade.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo poison flood?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing, sweet fay, but leafy shadows flecking the gray stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo flash of flame?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, I would call upon my patron saints and at their blessing it would\ndie away.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy heart fails me. O Jehan! In some such guise must my dread mistress\nappear, for I know well she sees all things in this wood and will never\nlet us fare forth free from it. Look again, beloved Jehan.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, now I see a most beautiful queen all alone, dressed in a coat of\npeacock feathers and shod in gold. How fair she is as she smiles upon\nme in the sunshine! She beckons me to come. Her hair is like silver\nlying to her feet.\u201d\n\n\u201cO look not so. O look not so on her! She has bewitched thee, Jehan,\nher hair is twisted serpents. Dost not see she is an ancient witch,\none-eyed and horrible? She is only beautiful by enchantment,\u201d and the\nfay seized and held his scarlet coat; but Jehan laughed and thrust her\nfrom him.\n\n\u201cThou little brown thrush whom I found in the woods, seek not to peck\nthe robe of light from the queen of beauty.\u201d\n\nThe brown fay scarcely knew her lover now; his glance was only for the\nenchantress, and though the fay could see her dusky skin, skeleton\nlimbs, and horrid, toothless grin, to poor Jehan she seemed a vision\nof beauty, and with a cry he broke from her hold and ran to fall at\nthe feet of the witch, who threw her arms about his neck and with a\ntriumphant laugh led him into the castle and shut the great iron-bound\ndoor upon the poor fay.\n\nAll day she sadly wandered through the woods, and finally when night\ncame she lay down under a bramble-bush and sobbed herself to sleep; but\nas she slept she felt a cool hand touch her brow, and looking up saw a\ntall being, like a shaft of green light. It was crowned with a garland\nof leaves and its face was kind and beautiful.\n\n\u201cFear not, little forest fay,\u201d it said, \u201cthou art a daughter of the\ntrees, and we, the tree-folk, will help thee.\u201d\n\nNow the witch had cast a spell upon Jehan until he saw the empty\nruins as a stately castle all filled with costly furnishings and\ntreasures of silver and gold. And her, he saw, as a beautiful queen,\nand the ugly messengers of evil who came at her bidding, he believed\nto be gallant lords and fair ladies. All day he sat beside the witch\nqueen on her throne and heard the pretty stories she told him hour by\nhour. Entranced in a half slumber, he listened to mandolins beside\nthe tinkling fountain of a court that was really a bare, unwatered\nspot, the home of hideous spiders and spotted toads. All memory of\nthe nut-brown fay seemed gone from him, yet ever and anon he thought\nhe heard a sweet voice call, \u201cJehan, beware!\u201d \u201cJehan, beware!\u201d and\nwondered what it might mean.\n\n\n                                  III\n\nNow came the day of his wedding to the witch, and banners of scarlet\nand gold flaunted to the breeze; rich carpets and tapestries lined\nfloors and halls, but in reality, only cobwebs draped the crumbly\nwalls. Jehan sat at breakfast beside the witch amid a great crowd of\ncompany. And the warlocks, demons, spirits, and wizards that flocked\nthere like crowds of evil birds, he believed to be noble guests who,\nrichly clad, bent to do him honor as the liege lord of their queen.\n\nAs they sat at breakfast and the witch raised the marriage cup to her\nlips, though it was mid-morn, the darkness of midnight fell upon them\nand all the guests cried out and ran about wildly, for the tree-folk\nhad helped the fay, as they promised, and bent about the castle\nshutting out the sun. Emboldened by the darkness, the evil creatures\nbegan to tear and fight with each other, and all sought to destroy\nthe witch who ruled them. But she held them back by her superior power\nand cried out that whoever had worked the enchantment should go free\nfrom the castle with what belonged to him and a rich reward if he would\nbring back the light.\n\nThen spake a sweet voice, \u201cI am she who will do this; but I will to sit\nby the bridegroom\u2019s side, between him and the bride, until ye rise up\nat night-time, and I will to carry as much treasure as my small basket\nwill hold and that which belongs to me besides when I go forth. Yet ye\nshall swear a binding oath that I shall go free with all that belongs\nto me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat sure oath shall I make?\u201d said the witch queen smiling wickedly,\nfor she knew only one oath unbreakable; but the voice answered and\nnamed that oath!\n\n\u201cThou shalt swear by the one eye in thy head and the evil ghosts and\nspirits that throng these cursed halls.\u201d\n\nThen a great wail went up in the dark, but the witch said loudly, \u201cI\nswear, because I wish to look again upon the light of day and the gold\nhair of Jehan my love.\u201d\n\nSo there was peace; the light came again; the queen was beautiful once\nmore and the guests handsome and courteous. But Goldhair seemed to\ndream of the wood and the lovely fay who fed him there, and though the\nwitch smiled and laid her hand upon his he sat looking across the hall\nwhen there came towards him a lovely maid in a gown of green leaves.\nLike moonlight on a summer\u2019s eve she passed along the hall. It was the\nnut-brown fay who carried a golden basket which she set down upon the\ntable at his side. Then she sat herself between him and the queen, but\nthe witch queen smiled and waved her hand and Jehan was like one in\nsleep, and though the maiden poured his wine and whispered into his ear\nhe knew her not.\n\n\u201cO Goldhair, dost forget the mirk wood and the meal we ate together?\nDost thou forget the nut-brown fay? Dost thou forget the land of\nwheaten shocks where thou wast to take me, as thy bride, to thy\nfather\u2019s house?\u201d\n\nBut the witch queen sat and smiled and opened a casket which stood\nbefore her to play with its great jewels which she took forth by\nhandfuls. And as she tossed them to and fro in her fingers they\nglittered like rainbows in the sunshine. But the bridegroom saw and\nheard not. Only through the enchantment he seemed to dream of a loved\nvoice and that his mother and sisters beckoned from his home door.\n\nThen the maiden opened her basket and took therefrom a pair of\nmilk-white doves, and taking food from the table, fed them from her\nhand; but the hen bird fed her mate with her rosy bill, and as the\nmaid crumbled the bread, Jehan gazed on her white hand and seemed to\nremember a time when he, like the tender dove, was also fed by that\nkindly hand; but the witch touched him on the brow and all memory faded.\n\nThen the male bird fought his tender mate to get the food she was\neating, and as he looked on this, memory came to Jehan and he cried,\n\u201cFoul bird! as ungrateful as I, to the kind love that fed me!\u201d Then the\nmaiden kissed his cheek and he knew and loved her again and he saw the\nwitch and her servants as they really were, and springing up he, with\nhis sword, drove back the monsters that would have torn them to pieces.\n\nThe witch, with a hideous yell, came towards them with a flagon of\nliquid fire, bent on their destruction. Then Jehan caught up the fay\nin his arms and with the good two-edged sword gave one stroke and the\nhead of the witch went flying through the air, and she and all of the\ncompany vanished, leaving them alone in the hall. Emptying the jewel\ncasket into her basket, the fay took Jehan by the hand and they went\nforth free, out of the castle, through the great gate, into the green\nwood.\n\n\n                                   IV\n\nHappily they walked on, but ere they had gone far the fay cried, \u201cNow\nturn you, my love, Jehan!\u201d and after them came a great white bear, his\nteeth agleam and paws outstretched. Again the good sword flashed in the\nsun and the bear lay dead on the greensward. Then on and on they fled.\n\n\u201cTurn ye, Jehan, my love,\u201d again cried the fay. And behold, a great\ngreen dragon with long scaly body lashed at them, and only after a\nmighty battle was he chopped into pieces.\n\nThen they went across a wide plain. It was now evening, and so weary\nand footsore were they, that they fain would have rested, but ere the\nstars came out a red mist rolled along the ground towards them and the\nfay cried aloud in fear:\n\n\u201cNow we are lost indeed, for this is the poison flood.\u201d\n\nOn they sped toward a forest with the great red waves rolling after\nthem. And where they passed, grasses lay sear and the flowers withered\nand died. Then cried the nut-brown fay, stretching out her hands\ntowards the tall trees:\n\n\u201cO my woodland folk, save us.\u201d As she spoke they entered the wood and\nthe venomous flood rolled to their feet; but the good tall trees sucked\ndown the flood into their strong roots, and where the vapor rolled, a\nbright stream sprang up and Goldhair and the fay laved their hot faces\nin its silvery coolness.\n\nNow did Jehan rejoice for, said he, \u201cWon are all our fights,\u201d but the\nfay answered him:\n\n\u201cNay, for the night cometh down and I fall into sleep and thou must\ncarry me as I sleep, and whatever may betide, if you lay me down, you\nlay me in my grave.\u201d\n\nSo Jehan promised to obey her and took her in his arms. There she lay\nagainst his breast and slept. The moon came up, round and golden, and\npeered through the branches on Jehan walking with the sleeping fay\nin his arms, his naked sword in his hand. By and by, the moon was\ndarkened by great batlike creatures which fluttered about them and\ngnashed upon him with their sharp teeth; but Jehan waved his sword and\ncalled upon the names of St. Gabriel and St. Michael for deliverance,\nand they flew away shrieking.\n\nThen there sounded a woeful cry. A woman ran towards them with a man\nfollowing at her heels, a long dagger in his hand.\n\n\u201cSave me! Save me! brave Jehan,\u201d she cried, kneeling at his feet while\ntears ran down her pallid face, and the man dressed in a sheepskin coat\ncame running quickly with his weapon gleaming in the moonlight.\n\nNow was Jehan hard pressed, for to fight for her life he must lay\ndown his sleeping love and he could not see the woman die. Yet, as he\nbent to lay the fay on the grass, under an oak, the leaves murmured\nin his ear, \u201cBeware! Beware!\u201d and making the sign of the cross with\nhis drawn sword in the air Jehan heard a great wail and the two\nfigures disappeared in a puff of smoke. And thus he was free from the\nenchantment. Then the sleeping fay awoke and slid from his arms to kiss\nhim right roundly. And the sun came up as they climbed the hill above\nthe Land of the Wheaten-shocks, and he saw the smoke from his father\u2019s\nhouse. And as they went down the green valley to the town, his kinfolk\ncame running forth to meet him and his bride. And thus entering his\nhome, amid rejoicing, he drew the fay after him, and forgetting all of\ntheir trials Jehan the Goldhaired and the nut-brown fay dwelt happy\never afterward.\n\n\n\n\n                          Transcriber\u2019s Notes\n\n Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.\n\n A table of contents has been added.","title":"The Mouse Miller and other stories","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":23419}