Part 17 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: So at last, after much thought, the goose girl did as the blue gander bade.--_Page 237._]

”But then I shall have no more paper on which to write to my lord, and I shall dwell forever in my wretched hut instead of the castle of my dreams,” answered the goose girl.

”Mayhap there might be a betwixt and between,” remarked the gander sagely. ”Write the letter and hand it to me with a bow.”

So at last, after much thought, the goose girl did as the blue gander bade. She dipped the quill in the purple ink, and immediately it touched the paper it began to write such a marvelous letter as never before was seen or read! It called the blue gander all manner of tender names and vowed he was handsome and knowing. At the end, this remarkable quill wrote the goose girl's name with a flourish so fine that she was pleased in spite of herself. She folded the letter and handed it to the gander with a bow.

No sooner had she done this than the blue gander spread his wings and flew away in the clouds, and in his place stood a handsome shepherd lad dressed in blue corduroys. He had a hundred sheep in the fold that followed him, and in his hand a bag of silver.

”Dearest Goose Girl, wilt be mine?” asked he. ”Yonder is my cottage, where I am sure we shall be very happy.”

The goose girl was amazed at the change. But so handsome was this young shepherd lad, and so winning of speech and manner, that all thoughts of the gray stone castle and the lord tumbled out of her head. She gazed with delight at the little cottage to which the shepherd lad pointed.

Blue smoke was curling from its chimney, and a bluebird was singing in a cage beside the kitchen door.

”We shall be married at once, shepherd lad of my heart,” she answered him sweetly, ”and I shall make you griddlecakes for your supper.”

So the goose girl and the shepherd were married and went to live in the little cottage. Indeed, for all that I know, there they may be living to this day, for I have met no one who has ever told me of the death of either.

CHAPTER X

THE LITTLE BROWN MAN

Once upon a time, there lived at the top of a very tall tree a little magic sprite. Now this magic sprite was called the Little Brown Man, and the tree was called the Tall Pine Tree. The Little Brown Man was so very small that had you ever seen him skipping and hopping about in his tree, you would have thought him some lively little brown squirrel. The Little Brown Man was always busy as a bee and twice as cheerful. He spent his days sweeping away the withered pine needles so that fresh new green needles might grow. With his cunning hands and powers of magic he mended broken places in the bark with healing herbs. At night the Little Brown Man rested from his labors. He curled himself up in the topmost boughs of the Tall Pine Tree, and the tree would rock him gently and sing him songs about the sea.

Thus the Little Brown Man, scarce bigger than my hand, and the Tall Pine Tree so high lived on in peace and happiness until an evil time befell them. It happened on a black winter's night, when the Storm Wind in a rage went cras.h.i.+ng through the forest. Las.h.i.+ng the heavy branches of the tallest trees, he tore them loose and flung them to the ground as though they had been but so many twigs. Uprooting tiny trees and saplings by the score, the Storm Wind tore his way along until he reached the Tall Pine Tree. There he saw the Little Brown Man asleep in its topmost boughs.

”Ha, Little Brown Man!” laughed the Storm Wind wickedly. ”At last I've caught you unaware, and I will do you mischief!” So saying, he blew a furious blast and flung the Little Brown Man to the ground beneath.

Then, in a wailing voice, the Storm Wind wove a spell of deep enchantment round the Little Brown Man, singing thus:

”Flaming eye and hand like claw, You'll dwell at your tree top no more; No child at your approach will stay, Your face will scare them all away.

But 'til some child bids you good-day, You'll dwell down on the ground so low, And to the Tall Pine cannot go!”

And then the Storm Wind blew away.

For a long time, the Little Brown Man lay still as one dead, for the fall had hurt him cruelly. The Tall Pine Tree wept bitterly at the little sprite's misfortune, and by and by its tears, falling like rain, wakened the Little Brown Man. But alas! The Storm Wind's wicked spell had changed him, and the Little Brown Man with flaming eye and clawlike hand was very fierce and terrible to look upon.

”Oh, tell me, my Pine Tree!” cried the Little Brown Man in dismay, ”how am I changed thus? My hands are hands no longer, but claws like those of wild beasts; my eye flames redder than the wicked wolf's! I cannot hop or skip; indeed, I scarce can hobble, so bent and twisted have I grown.”

”Alas, my Little Brown Man!” the Tall Pine Tree replied. ”While you did sleep, the Storm Wind tore you from my topmost bough, and wove this wicked spell around you. Until some child will speak to you a kindly word, you must remain thus bound by this evil spell.”

In spite of his twisted back, the Little Brown Man tried again and again to climb into the Tall Pine Tree, but all his efforts were in vain.

Wearied and tired out at last, he made himself a nest among the withered pine needles and began to wait for the magic word to break the Storm Wind's evil spell.

At last the winter pa.s.sed. The snow began to melt; the brook, freed of its coat of ice, began to sing and chatter as it splashed along; the birds built nests; the sun shone down; the p.u.s.s.y willows, gray and brown, began to bud and bloom. Then boys and girls came out to play beneath the trees and gather b.u.t.tercups and bluebells. The Little Brown Man's heart rejoiced, for he was sure the evil spell that bound him soon would end. Whenever happy children played beside the Tall Pine Tree, he would hobble toward them, saying: