the time Finn kept his eyes on the little Elf’s face and held him fast.
“I like to _work_” said the Fairy Shoemaker slyly. “Come, now, do you?”
Finn felt a little confused at this last question, but he answered,
“You have plenty of gold and some to spare, I should think. Come, tell
me where you keep your treasure crocks.”
“I will show you where I keep _one_ of them,” answered Leprechaun.
“All right,” answered Finn. “If you’ll lead me to the spot where one
crock of gold is buried, I’ll not bother you again.”
“Come, then,” said the Elf.
“Mind that you keep your snuffbox in your pocket,” said Finn. “You
shan’t catch me that way again.”
“This way,” laughed the wee man.
Down the hillside and over the fields hurried the Fairy Shoemaker,
leading Finn along at a good pace. It was wonderful to see this queer
Elf skip across the ditches and hedges, and hop over the stones and
rough places in the meadow. Finn was becoming very tired. “How much
farther is it?” he asked.
“Come along, come along,” laughed little Leprechaun.
Finally they came to a field full of ragweed. The Fairy Shoemaker
stopped suddenly. Then pointing with his tiny finger, he said, “If you
dig deep under the roots of this weed, you’ll find one of my treasure
crocks filled to the brim with gold.”
“But I can’t dig without a spade,” said Finn excitedly.
“Of course not,” answered Leprechaun. “But now that you know the spot
you can get the gold whenever you like.”
“I shall get it to-day,” said Finn. “I’ll run home now and get my spade.
But I’d better mark the weed, I think.”
“That would be a good plan,” said the Shoemaker. “Here I have a bit of
bright red string in my pocket. Let us tie it around the stem near the
top.”
How deftly the elfin fingers tied the mark!
“Thank you very kindly,” said Finn.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” asked Leprechaun.
“You will promise not to touch the string?”
“I promise not to touch it, sir. Also I assure you no one else shall
touch it,” said Leprechaun.
“Well, then, you may go. Here is your red cap. I thank you very much for
your kindness. Good day!” said Finn pleasantly.
“Good day, sir,” said the Fairy Shoemaker, and off he scampered,
chuckling to himself.
You may be sure Finn hurried away to fetch his spade. How surprised
Granny would be to hear that he had caught the Fairy Shoemaker. He would
not tell her until he carried home the treasure. In breathless haste he
got his spade and hurried back to the field of ragweed. Then Finn stood
still and looked! A bit of bright red string was tied around every
ragweed in the field! The Fairy Shoemaker had tricked him again! He
thought he heard a low chuckling laugh. Finn listened carefully. From
among the weeds he heard a faint voice singing,
“How does the little Leprechaun
Fill treasure crocks with gold?
The live long day he _works away_
From far-off times of old.”
MAKING THE BEST OF IT
“What a pretty day this is!” said the old gray goose to the brown hen,
as they stood at the henhouse window and watched the falling snow which
covered every nook and corner of the farmyard.
“Yes, indeed,” said the brown hen; “I would be almost willing to be made
into chicken pie on such a day.”
She had scarcely stopped talking, when the Pekin duck said, fretfully,
“I am dreadfully hungry,” and a little flock of speckled chickens all
huddled together wailed in sad chorus, “And we’re so thirsty!”
In fact, the feathered folks in the henhouse were very much inclined to
be cross and discontented. Since the farmer’s boy fed them, early in the
morning, they had been given nothing to eat or drink, and, as hour after
hour went by, and the cold winter wind howled around their house, it is
no wonder they felt deserted.
The handsome white rooster, however, appeared quite as happy as usual,
and that is saying a great deal, for a jollier, better-natured old
fellow than he never graced a farmyard. Sunshine, rain, or snow were all
the same to him, and he crowed quite as lustily in stormy weather as in
fair.
“Well,” he said, laughing heartily, as his bright eyes glanced about the
henhouse, “you all seem to be having a fit of the dumps.”
Nobody answered the white rooster, but a faint cluck or two came from
some hens who immediately put their heads back under their wings, as if
ashamed of having spoken at all.
This was quite too much for the white rooster, who, standing first on
one yellow foot and then on the other, said: “Well, we are a lively set!
Anyone would think, to look in here, that we were surrounded by a band
of hungry foxes.”
Just then a daring little white bantam rooster hopped down from his
perch, and, strutting pompously over to the big rooster, created quite a
stir among the feathered folk by saying,
“We’re all lively enough when our crops are full, but when we’re
starving the wonder is that we can hold our heads up at all. If I ever
see that farmer’s boy again, I’ll—I’ll peck his foot!”
“You won’t see him until he feeds us,” said the white rooster, “and then
I think you will peck his corn.”
“Oh, oh!” moaned the brown hen, “don’t mention a peck of corn.”
“Madam,” remarked the white rooster, bowing politely, “your trouble is
my own—that is, I’m hungry, too. But we might be worse off; we might be
on our way to market in a box. Then, too, suppose we haven’t had enough
to eat to-day, at least we have room enough to stretch our wings and a
good, quiet place to sleep in.”
“Why, that is a fact,” answered the brown hen; and all the feathered
family—the smallest chickens included—stretched their wings, preened
their feathers, and looked a trifle more animated.
“Now then,” went on the rooster, “suppose we have a little music to
cheer us and help pass the hours until roosting time. We will all
crow—there, I beg your pardon, ladies; I am sorry you can’t crow—we will
sing a merry song. Will you be kind enough to start a lively tune, Mrs.
Brown Hen?”
The brown hen shook herself proudly, tossed her head back, and began:
“Cut-cut-cut-ca-dak-cut,” and in less than two minutes every one in the
henhouse had joined her.
Now the horses, cows, and sheep were not far away, and, hearing the
happy voices in the henhouse, they, too, joined in the grand chorus,
while the pigs did their best to sing louder than all the rest. Higher
and higher, stronger and stronger, rose the chorus; louder and louder
quacked the ducks, and shriller and shriller squealed the pigs. At
length even the dogs barked merrily.
They were all so happy that they quite forgot their hunger until the
door of the henhouse burst open, and in came three chubby children, each
carrying a dish full of steaming chicken food.
“Don’t stop your music, Mr. Rooster,” said the little girl, who was so
snugly bundled up that you could scarcely see her dear little face. “You
see, we were so lonesome that we didn’t know what to do; but when we
heard all you folks singing out here in your house, we laughed and
laughed until we almost cried. Then we went to tell Jack about you; he
was lonesome, too—poor Jack sick with a sore throat—and he said, ‘Why,
those poor hens; they haven’t been fed since morning!’”
“Cock-a-doodle-do!” said the white rooster. “This comes of making the
best of things. Cock-a-doodle-do!” And nobody asked him to stop his
crowing.
THE BROWNIE OF BLEDNOCK
Did you ever hear how a Brownie came to the village of Blednock and was
frightened away again?
It was one November evening, just when the milking was done and before
the children were put to bed. The people of the village were standing by
their doorsteps talking about their bad harvest and the turnips, and
what chances there were of a good price for their cattle at the coming
fair.
All at once the queerest humming noise seemed to come up from the
riverside. It came nearer and nearer, and all the good people stopped
talking and began to look down the road. And, indeed, it was no wonder
that they stared, for there, coming up the middle of the highway, was
the strangest little creature that human eyes had ever seen.
He looked like a wee, wee man. He had a long blue beard which almost
touched the ground. His legs were twisted, his knees knocked together as
he walked, and his arms were so long that his hands trailed in the mud
as he came along. He seemed to be humming something over and over. As he
came nearer, the good people of the village could make out the words:
“Have ye work for Aiken-Drum?
Any work for Aiken-Drum?”
Oh, how frightened the people were! The children screamed and hid their
faces in their mothers’ gowns and the milkmaids threw down the pails of
milk they were carrying. Even the dogs crept in behind the doors,
whining and hiding their tails between their legs. Some of the men who
were not too frightened to look the wee man in the face, laughed and
hooted at him.
“Did you ever see such eyes?” cried one.
“His mouth is so big he could swallow the moon and never even notice
it,” said the other.
“Look at his long blue beard!” said a third.
And still the poor little man came slowly up the road, crying:
“Have ye work for Aiken-Drum?
Any work for Aiken-Drum?”
Good Grannie Duncan, the kindest old woman in the village, called out at
last: “He’s just a Brownie, a simple, kindly Brownie. I’ve heard tell of
Brownies before. Many a long day’s work will they do for the people who
treat them well.”
Gathering courage from her words, all the village folk crowded around
the little man. When they were close to him, they saw that his face was
kind and gentle and that his tiny eyes had a merry twinkle in them.
“Strange little creature,” said an old man, “tell us what you want and
where you came from?”
[Illustration]
“I cannot well tell thee whence I came,” said the wee man. “My country
is a nameless land and is very different from this land of yours. For
there we all learn to serve, while here every one wishes to be served.
When there is no work for us to do at home, we sometimes set out to
visit thy land to see if there is any work we can do there. If thou
wilt, I will stay here awhile. I do not wish anyone to wait on me, for I
want no wages, nor clothes, nor bedding. All I ask for is a corner of
the barn to sleep in, and a bowl of broth set down on the floor at
bedtime. If no one meddles with me, I shall be ready to help any one who
needs me. I’ll gather your sheep on the hill. I’ll take in the harvest
by moonlight. I’ll sing your bairns to sleep in their cradles. You’ll
find that the bairns all love Aiken-Drum. And, good housewives, I’ll
churn for you and bake your bread on a busy day. The men folk, too, may
find me useful when there is corn to thrash, or untamed colts in the
stables, or when the waters are out in flood.”
No one knew quite what to say in answer to the little creature’s strange
request. It was an unheard-of thing for anyone to come and offer his
services for nothing. Some thought it could not be true; others said it
were better to have nothing to do with the little creature.
Then up spoke good Grannie Duncan again:
“He’s but a Brownie, I tell you, a harmless Brownie. Many a story I’ve
heard in my young days about the work that a Brownie can do, if he be
treated well and let alone. Have we not all been complaining about bad
times, small wages, and the hard work we all have to do? And now, when a
workman comes ready to your hand, you will have nothing to do with him
just because he is strange looking. And I’ve heard that a Brownie can
stalk a whole ten-acre field in a single night! Shame on you, say I!”
“A ten-acre field in a single night!” cried out all the men of the
village at once. “A ten-acre field!” repeated one. “And in a single
night!” added another. That settled the matter. The miller at once
offered the Brownie a corner of his barn to sleep in, and good Grannie
Duncan promised to make him some broth at bedtime and to send her
grandchild, wee Janie, down to the barn with it every evening. Then all
the people of the village said, “Good night,” and went to their homes.
But they were careful to look over their shoulders once in a while, for
fear that the strange little man was following them.
But if they were afraid of him that night, they had a very different
story to tell about him before a week had passed. Whatever he was or
wherever he came from, he was the most wonderful little worker that
these people had ever known. And the strange thing was that he did most
of the work at night. Village folk came from all parts of the
countryside to catch a glimpse of this queer little worker, but they
were never successful, for he was never to be seen when one looked for
him. They might have gone to the miller’s barn twenty times a day, and
twenty times a day they would have found nothing but a heap of straw and
an empty broth bowl.
But whenever there was work to be done, whether it was a tired child to
be sung to, or a house to be made tidy, or a batch of bread to be worked
up, or a flock of sheep to be gathered together on a stormy night,
Aiken-Drum always knew of it and appeared ready to help just at the
right time.
Many a time some poor mother who had been up all night with a crying
child would sit down with it on her lap in front of the fire in the
morning and fall asleep. When she awoke she would find that Aiken-Drum
had made a visit to her house; for the floor would be scrubbed and the
dishes washed, the fire made up and the kettle put on to boil. But the
little Brownie would have slipped away as if he were afraid of being
thanked.
The little children were the only ones who ever saw him when he was not
working, and, oh, how they loved him! When school was out you could see
them away down by the stream crowding around the little dark brown
figure, and you could hear the sound of low, sweet singing; for
Aiken-Drum knew all the songs that children love well.
By and by the name of Aiken-Drum came to be a household word among the
good people of the village, for, although they seldom saw him near at
hand, they loved him like one of their own people.
And he would never have gone away if every one in the village had
remembered what good Grannie Duncan told them about Brownies. “A Brownie
works for love,” she had said to them over and over again. “He will not
work for pay. If anyone tries to pay him, the wee creature’s feelings
will be hurt, and he will vanish in the night.”
But a good man of the village and his wife forgot all that had been
said, and one day they planned to make something for Aiken-Drum.
“He should not work for nothing,” said the good man.
“He has already worn out his coat and trousers slaving for us,” said his
wife.
So one day they made him a little pair of green trousers and a little
brown coat. That night the two good people laid a parcel by the side of
the bowl of broth in the miller’s barn.
In the middle of the night some one heard the Brownie saying to himself,
“A nice pair of green trousers and a little brown coat for me. I can
come here no more till one of the children of this village travels the
world over and finds me first.”
So this strange little creature had to go away. He vanished in the night
as any Brownie is sure to do if some one tries to pay him.
And all the good people of Blednock talked of the kind deeds of the
little strange man who came one evening into their midst, and they
wondered and wondered if he would ever come back to them again.
HOW OLAF BROUGHT THE BROWNIE BACK
Did you ever hear how Olaf, one of the village children, went in search
of the Brownie and brought him back to the good people of Blednock?
It came about in this way.
Olaf’s father had often told him of the Brownie that had once lived in
the village and had helped all the village people to do their work.
“The little lively thing would come night after night and clean the
floor, and scrub the table, and wash the dishes, and keep the whole
house as clean as a new pin. But one night he went away and he never
came back.”
“Why did he go away, father?” asked Olaf.
“Well,” said his father, “there’s great pride in Brownies. They’ll work
their fingers off for love, but you must never thank them, nor give them
anything, or away they will go. Good Grannie Duncan had told us that
over and over again, but your mother and I forgot all about her wise
words. We thought that the little thing ought not to work for nothing.
So we bought a piece of green cloth and a piece of brown cloth and your
mother sat up all night cutting and stitching. By morning she had made
as neat a pair of little trousers and as fine a coat as ever she made
for you.
“That night we laid the clothes in a little parcel beside the bowl of
broth, and we heard the little thing saying to himself:
“‘A nice pair of green trousers and a little brown coat for me. I can
come here no more—_no more_—till one of the children of the village
travels the world over and finds me first.’
“And the strange little creature vanished in the night and no one has
seen or heard of him since though we have missed him very, very much.”
Olaf thought about the Brownie all day. He felt that, although the world
away from the village might be very dangerous, he was quite willing to
travel in it if, by so doing, he could bring the Brownie back to
Blednock.
Olaf asked each person in the village where to find the Brownie. Also,
he asked the oldest apple tree in the orchard, but it said nothing. He
asked the cows, but they said nothing. He asked the dog, but he barked
about other things. Only the sheep helped him. They said nothing, but
they looked as if they knew. Olaf tended the sheep and the young lambs
throughout the year, and he wondered and wondered if the lambs learned
from the old sheep where the Brownie was hidden.
“I will not come back until a child of this village travels the world
over and finds me first,—travels the world over and finds me first,”
Olaf kept saying to himself over and over.
At last one summer evening, as he was coming home from the sheepfolds,
he heard the faint sound of bagpipes very near. He heard it again the
next night, and the next, and the night after that, and every night,
until, at last, he made up his mind to follow the sound and find out who
it was that played the pipes so sweetly.
He left the sheep path and followed the music, walking carefully lest he
should lose it. The soft sweet notes seemed to come from a mass of rocks
which lay on the moor behind him. As he came near the rocks he knew the
music was directly above it, so he started to climb up. Halfway up the
path was easy to climb, and he soon won his way up to a little tree
which thrust itself out of the side of the pile. He twisted himself over
the tree and rested there, wondering how he could get up the rest of the
way, for he saw six feet of smooth rock up to the top.
All the time the music of the bagpipes, scarcely louder than a concert
of bees and crickets, sounded close above his head. “Oho, there!”
shouted Olaf at last. The music stopped suddenly. A little brown face
with a long blue beard looked eagerly over the top of the rocks.
“So it is you, is it?” said a voice. “Here, take hold of my wrist and
then pull.”
Olaf caught sight of a long brown arm stretched down toward him. He
caught hold of the wrist and pulled, and the next moment Olaf found
himself scrambling over a thick mass of heather on to the top of the
rocks. He lay sprawling on the edge of a little cleft in the rock with
high walls on the sides. In one of these walls there was a little cave,
and just in front of the cave was a little three-legged stool that had
been upset, and a little set of bagpipes was lying on the ground beside
it.
“So here you are!” said the little brown creature as he helped Olaf to
his feet. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time. Look!” He ran into the
cave and came out dragging a broom behind him, and holding a stone so
polished that even in the dim light Olaf could see his face in it. And
Olaf wondered and wondered.
“Look! I’ve worn out two hundred and thirty of these brooms, and
polished that rough stone smooth—all for want of proper work, since I
had to leave the village.”
“Are you the Brownie?” asked Olaf, joyfully.
“Yes,” was the answer.
“Are you Aiken-Drum?”
“Yes,” came the answer again.
“I’ve been looking for you ever since I can remember. That was why the
sheep knew,—because you live on the moor.”
“Yes,” said the Brownie, “the sheep know me.”
“Will you come back to the village, now?” asked Olaf.
“Not yet,” said the Brownie. “You and I must travel the world together.
Then I’ll go back. Your father should have known better than to pay a
Brownie. He should have known that we work for love. Here I have been
all this time wearing out brooms on these rocks and polishing a stone,
waiting for the village child to find me. And you’ve come!” said the
Brownie, as he danced into the cave. He soon returned carrying a little
wooden cage with a big cockroach inside. He opened the cage and took the
cockroach on his finger.
“You’ve found me,” he kept saying, “you’ve found me! Now there’s nothing
left but the travels. Fly, cockroach,” he cried, “fly fast and straight,
and tell my brothers that Olaf has come. Tell them to launch the boat.
Tell them we are coming—Olaf and I.”
He let the cockroach fly from his hand and it boomed away in the still
air of the summer night. Olaf heard a kr-r-r-r-r-r in the pine woods. It
might, he thought, be the Brownies launching the little boat.
And that is how Olaf found the Brownie and came to make his travels with
him. They sailed away—away to Glittering Harbor where great ships lay
close together in the golden sunset; they won the marvelous horse and
they found the white flower that can be bought only for love—like the
Brownies’ services.
By and by their travels were over and Aiken-Drum returned with Olaf to
the village of Blednock. And that is why the kitchen floors of these
village people are so wonderfully scrubbed and why the pans shine
brighter than those in any other kitchens of the country side. And
Aiken-Drum has a merry life as he scrubs the pans and washes the dishes,
and he is very, very happy to know that he will _never_ be paid for it.
THE POOR LITTLE TURKEY GIRL
All alone in a very old cottage near the border of a village lived a
little girl who herded turkeys for a living. She was very, very poor.
Her clothes were patched and tattered. Little was ever given to her
except the food she lived on from day to day, and now and then a piece
of old worn-out clothing.
But the child had a winning face and bright eyes. She had also a very
loving disposition. She was always kind to the turkeys which she drove
to and from the plains every day, giving to them the affection she
longed for but which she herself never received from anyone. The turkeys
loved their little mistress in return. They would come immediately at
her call and they would go willingly anywhere she wished to send them.
One day as the little girl went along, driving her turkeys to the
plains, she heard a great commotion in the village. She stopped to see
the cause of the excitement and found it to be a herald who was
proclaiming from the house top, “The great festival will take place in
four days. Come youths and maidens. Come one, come all. Join in the
Dance of the Sacred Bird!”
Now this child had never been permitted to join in or even watch this
great festivity of the people, and she longed with all her heart to see
it.
“My dear turkeys, how I should love to watch this blessed festival,
particularly the Dance of the Sacred Bird!” It was her custom to talk
matters over with her turkeys, for they were the child’s only
companions. She told them day after day of the wonderful festival that
was to be, and how happy she would feel if she could join in the dance
with the others. “But it is impossible, my beloved turkeys, ugly and
ill-clad as I am,” she would say, when she saw the people of the village
busy in cleaning their houses and preparing their clothes, laughing and
talking as they made ready for the greatest holiday of the year.
[Illustration]
The poor child never dreamed that her turkeys understood every word she
said to them. But they did, and more.
The fourth day came, and all the people of the village went to join in
the festivities. All but one, and that one was the poor little turkey
girl who wandered about alone with her beloved flock. Soon she sat down
upon a stone to rest, for she was sad at the thought of all the
merrymaking while she was alone on the plains.