Part 30 (2/2)

”Poor bit beastie,” said the kind-hearted old mother. ”Open the door and let him in. It's cold work sitting on the doorstep.”

So the la.s.sie, very unwillingly opened the door, and the Paddock came jump-jump-jumping across the kitchen, and sat down at the fireside.

And while he sat there he began to sing this song:

”Oh, gie me my supper, my hinnie, my heart, Oh, gie me my supper, my ain true love; Remember the promise that you and I made Down i' the meadow, where we two met.”

”Gie the poor beast his supper,” said the old woman. ”He's an uncommon Paddock that can sing like that.”

”Tut,” replied her daughter crossly, for she was growing more and more frightened as she saw the creature's bright black eyes fixed on her face. ”I'm not going to be so silly as to feed a wet, sticky Paddock.”

”Don't be ill-natured and cruel,” said her mother. ”Who knows how far the little beastie has travelled? And I warrant that it would like a saucerful of milk.”

Now, the la.s.sie could have told her that the Paddock had travelled from the Well o' the World's End; but she held her tongue, and went ben to the milk-house, and brought back a saucerful of milk, which she set down before the strange little visitor.

”Now chap off my head, my hinnie, my heart, Now chap off my head, my ain true love, Remember the promise that you and I made Down i' the meadow, where we two met.”

”Hout, havers, pay no heed, the creature's daft,” exclaimed the old woman, running forward to stop her daughter, who was raising the axe to chop off the Paddock's head. But she was too late; down came the axe, off went the head; and lo, and behold! on the spot where the little creature had sat, stood the handsomest young Prince that had ever been seen.

He wore such a n.o.ble air, and was so richly dressed, that the astonished girl and her mother would have fallen on their knees before him had he not prevented them by a movement of his hand.

”'Tis I that should kneel to thee, Sweetheart,” he said, turning to the blus.h.i.+ng girl, ”for thou hast delivered me from a fearful spell, which was cast over me in my infancy by a wicked Fairy, who at the same time slew my father. For long years I have lived in that well, the Well o'

the World's End, waiting for a maiden to appear, who should take pity on me, even in my loathsome disguise, and promise to be my wife, and who would also have the kindness to let me into her house, and the courage, at my bidding, to cut off my head.

”Now I can return and claim my father's Kingdom, and thou, most gracious maiden, will go with me, and be my bride, for thou well deserv'st the honour.”

And this was how the la.s.sie who went to fetch water from the Well o' the World's End became a Princess.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

FARQUHAR MACNEILL

Once upon a time there was a young man named Farquhar MacNeill. He had just gone to a new situation, and the very first night after he went to it his mistress asked him if he would go over the hill to the house of a neighbour and borrow a sieve, for her own was all in holes, and she wanted to sift some meal.

Farquhar agreed to do so, for he was a willing lad, and he set out at once upon his errand, after the farmer's wife had pointed out to him the path that he was to follow, and told him that he would have no difficulty in finding the house, even though it was strange to him, for he would be sure to see the light in the window.

He had not gone very far, however, before he saw what he took to be the light from a cottage window on his left hand, some distance from the path, and, forgetting his Mistress's instructions that he was to follow the path right over the hill, he left it, and walked towards the light.

It seemed to him that he had almost reached it when his foot tripped, and he fell down, down, down, into a Fairy Parlour, far under the ground.

[Ill.u.s.tration: They bowed gravely]

It was full of Fairies, who were engaged in different occupations.

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