That evening the daughter-in-law said to the Mother:
“We are going out to supper with godmother. Mind you have hot water for
me when I come back.”
The daughter-in-law was greedy and always on the look-out to get invited
for a meal.
So the others went out, and the old woman was left alone. She took out
the kindling-wood which the poor girl had given her, lit the fire on the
hearth, and went into the shed for wood.
As she was in the shed fetching the wood, she suddenly heard something
in the kitchen a-bustling and a-rustling—“hist, hist!”
“Whoever is that?” called the old Mother from the shed.
“Brownies! Brownies!” came the answer from the kitchen in voices so
tiny, for all the world like sparrows chirping under the roof.
The old woman wondered what on earth was going on there in the dark, and
went into the kitchen. And when she got there the kindling-chips just
flared up on the hearth, and round the flame there were Brownies dancing
in a ring—all tiny little men no bigger than half an ell. They wore
little fur coats; their caps and shoes were red as flames; their beards
were grey as ashes, and their eyes sparkled like live coal.
More and more of them danced out of the flames, one for each chip. And
as they appeared they laughed and chirped, turned somersaults on the
hearth, twittered with glee, and then took hands and danced in a ring.
[Illustration]
And how they danced! Round the hearth, in the ashes, under the cupboard,
on the table, in the jug, on the chair! Round and round! Faster and
faster! They chirped and they chattered, chased and romped all over the
place. They scattered the salt; they spilt the barm; they upset the
flour—all for sheer fun. The fire on the hearth blazed and shone,
crackled and glowed; and the old woman gazed and gazed. She never
regretted the salt nor the barm, but was glad of the jolly little folk
whom God had sent to comfort her.
It seemed to the old woman as though she were growing young again. She
laughed like a dove; she tripped like a girl; she took hands with the
Brownies and danced. But all the time there was the load on her heart,
and that was so heavy that the dance stopped at once.
“Little brothers,” said the Mother to the Brownies, “can you not help me
to get a sight of my daughter-in-law’s tongue, so that when I can show
my son what I have seen with my own eyes he will perhaps come to his
senses?”
And the old woman told the Brownies all that had happened. The Brownies
sat round the edge of the hearth, their little feet thrust under the
grate, each wee mannikin beside his neighbour, and listened to the old
woman, all wagging their heads in wonder. And as they wagged their
heads, their red caps caught the glow of the fire, and you’d have
thought there was nothing there but the fire burning on the hearth.
When the old woman had finished her story, one of the Brownies called
out, and his name was Wee Tintilinkie:
“I will help you! I will go to the sunshiny land and bring you magpies’
eggs. We will put them under the sitting hen, and when the magpies are
hatched your daughter-in-law will betray herself. She will crave for
little magpies like any ordinary forest snake, and so put out her
tongue.”
All the Brownies twittered with joy because Wee Tintilinkie had thought
of something so clever. They were still at the height of their glee when
in came the daughter-in-law from supper with a cake for herself.
She flew to the door in a rage to see who was chattering in the kitchen.
But just as she opened the door, the door went bang! the flame leapt, up
jumped the Brownies, gave one stamp all round the hearth with their tiny
feet, rose up above the flames, flew up to the roof,—the boards in the
roof creaked a bit, and the Brownies were gone!
Only Wee Tintilinkie did not run away, but hid among the ashes.
When the flame leapt so unexpectedly and the door banged to, the
daughter-in-law got a start, so that for sheer fright she plumped on the
floor like a sack. The cake broke in her hand; her hair came down, combs
and all; her eyes goggled, and she called out angrily:
“What was that, you old wretch?”
“The wind blew up the flame when the door opened,” said the Mother, and
kept her wits about her.
“And what is that among the ashes?” said the daughter-in-law again. For
from the ashes peeped the red heel of Wee Tintilinkie’s shoe.
“That is a live ember,” said the Mother.
However, the daughter-in-law would not believe her, but, all dishevelled
as she was, she got up and went over to see close to what was on the
hearth. As she bent down with her face over the ashes Wee Tintilinkie
quickly let out with his foot, so that his heel caught the
daughter-in-law on the nose. The Woman screamed as if she were drowning
in the sea; her face was all over soot, and her tumbled hair all
smothered with ashes.
“What was that, you miserable old woman?” hissed the daughter-in-law.
“A chestnut bursting in the fire,” answered the Mother; and Wee
Tintilinkie in the ashes almost split with laughter.
While the daughter-in-law went out to wash, the Mother showed Wee
Tintilinkie where the daughter-in-law had set the hen, so as to have
little chickens for Christmas. That very night Wee Tintilinkie fetched
magpies’ eggs and put them under the hen instead of hens’ eggs.