Where you and I discover sea-pinks only, and hear only the
wash of the waves, she would go on midsummer nights and find flowers
of every colour spread, and hundreds of little lights moving among
them, and fountains and waterfalls and swarms of small ladies and
gentlemen, dressed in green and gold, walking and sporting among
them, or reposing on the turf and telling stories to the most
ravishing soft music. This was as much as she would relate; but it
is certain that the piskies were friends of hers. For, in spite of
her nightly wanderings, her housework was always well and cleanly
done before other girls were dressed--the morning milk fresh in the
dairy, the step sanded, the fire lit and the scalding-pans warming
over it. And as for her needlework, it was a wonder.
Some said she was a changeling; others that she had found the
four-leaved clover or the fairy ointment, and rubbed her eyes with
it. But it was her own secret; for whenever the people tried to
follow her to the "Gardens," _whir! whir! whir!_ buzzed in their
ears, as if a flight of bees were passing, and every limb would feel
as if stuck full of pins and pinched with tweezers, and they were
rolled over and over, their tongues tied as if with cords, and at
last, as soon as they could manage, they would pick themselves up,
and hobble home for their lives.
Well, the history--which, I must remind you, is a true one--goes on
to say that in time the girl grew ambitious, or fell in love
(I cannot remember which), and went to London.
Pages:
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123