Chapter Six.
The Story of the Three Wishes—concluded.
When they woke in the morning they were in a calmer state of mind, and began to see how foolish they had been.
“Chloe,” said Arminel, as they sat at breakfast, “we were very nearly quarrelling last night; and if we quarrel we shall certainly never find out the secret of the third wish; and all our hopes will be at an end. Now, let us think over quietly what the third wish is likely to be. Let me see—what were the dwarf’s exact words?”
“He said we must seek for it in our own hearts,” replied Chloe. “That means, of course, that it must be something kind.”
“Perhaps he meant that it must be something to do us both good,” said Arminel. “What is there we are equally in want of? Oh! I know; suppose we wish for a good stack of fuel for the winter. That would certainly benefit us both.”
“It can do no harm to try,” said Chloe; “so I agree to the wish for a stack of fuel.”
Arminel’s eyes sparkled.
“I daresay we have guessed it,” she exclaimed, jumping up. “Come out at once to see, Chloe.”
But, alas! the heap of brushwood for their winter’s firing, in the corner of the yard, had grown no bigger than the day before. No fresh sounds of cheerful cackling reached them from the hen-house; and Strawberry stood alone in her stall.
The wishes were still unfulfilled.
The sisters returned to the house rather crestfallen.
“What can it be?” said Arminel; and this time Chloe made a suggestion.
“Supposing we wish that the copper coins we have put aside for our Christmas charities should be turned into silver,” she said. “That would be a kind thought for the very poor folk we try to help a little.”
“As you like,” said her sister; “but I doubt its being any use. We are always told that charity which costs us nothing is little worth.”
She was right. When they opened the little box which held the coins she spoke of, there they still were, copper as before, so this time it was no use to look outside for the new cow and hens. And all through the day they went on thinking first of one thing, then of another, without any success, so that by the evening their work had suffered from their neglect, and they went tired and dispirited to bed.
The next day they were obliged to work doubly hard to make up, and one or two new ideas occurred to them which they put to the test, always, alas! with the same result.
“We are wasting our time and our temper for no use,” said Arminel at last.
“I am afraid the truth is that the dwarf was only playing us a mischievous trick.” And even Chloe was forced to allow that it seemed as if her sister was in the right.
“We will try to forget all about it,” said Arminel. “It must be indeed true that having anything to do with the dwarfs only brings bad luck.”
But though she spoke courageously, Chloe was wakened in the night by hearing her sister crying softly to herself.
“Poor dear Arminel,” thought Chloe, though she took care to lie quite still as if sleeping. “I do feel for her. If I had but my hens I could soon make up to her for her disappointment.”
But of course as the dun cow did not come, neither did the fairy hens, and a time of really great anxiety began for the sisters. Strawberry’s milk dwindled daily; so did the number of eggs, till at last something very like real poverty lay before them. They were almost ashamed to go to market, so little had they to offer to their customers. Never had they been so unhappy or distressed.
But out of trouble often comes good. Their affection for each other grew stronger, and all feelings of jealousy died away as each felt more and more sorry for her sister.
“If only we had never gone near the wood,” said Arminel one evening when things were looking very gloomy indeed, “none of these worst troubles would have come upon us, I feel sure. I begin to believe everything that has been said about those miserable dwarfs. It is very good of you, dear Chloe, not to blame me as the cause of all our misfortunes, for it was I who heard the cries in the wood and made you come with me to see what was the matter.”
“How could I blame you?” said Chloe. “We did it together, and it was what grandmother would have wished. If we had not gone we should always have reproached ourselves for not doing a kind action, and even as things are, even supposing we are suffering from the dwarfs spitefulness, it is better to suffer with a clear conscience than to prosper with a bad one.”
Her words comforted her sister a little. They kissed each other affectionately and went to bed, sad at heart certainly, but not altogether despondent.
In the night Arminel awoke. There was bright moonlight in the room, and as she glanced at her sleeping sister, she saw traces of tears on Chloe’s pale face.
“My poor sister!” she said to herself. “She has been crying, and would not let me know it. I do not care for myself, if only dear Chloe could have her hens. I could bear the disappointment about my cow. How I wish it might be so.”
As the thought passed through her mind, a sweet feeling of peace and satisfaction stole over her. She closed her eyes and almost immediately fell asleep, and slept soundly.
Very soon after this in her turn Chloe awoke. She, too, sat up and looked at her sister. There was a smile on Arminel’s sleeping face which touched Chloe almost more than the traces of tears on her own had touched her sister.
“Poor dear Arminel,” she thought. “She is dreaming, perhaps, of her dun cow. How little I should mind my own disappointment if I could see her happy. Oh! I do wish she could have her cow!”
And having thought this, she, too, as her sister had done, fell asleep with a feeling of peace and hopefulness such as she had not had for long.
The winter sun was already some little way up on his journey when the sisters awoke the next morning, for they had slept much later than usual. Arminel was the first to start up with a feeling that something pleasant had happened.
“Chloe!” she exclaimed. “We have overslept ourselves. And on such a bright morning, too! How can it have happened?”
Chloe opened her eyes and looked about her with a smile.
“Yes, indeed,” she replied. “One could imagine it was summer time, and I have had such a good night, and such pleasant dreams.”
“So have I,” answered her sister. “And I am so hungry!”
That was scarcely to be wondered at, for they had gone almost supperless to bed, and there was little if anything in the larder for their breakfast.
“I am hungry too,” said Chloe. “But I am afraid there isn’t much for our breakfast. However, I feel in much better spirits, though I don’t know why.”
Chloe was ready a little before her sister, and hastened into the kitchen, to light the fire and prepare such food as there was. But just as Arminel was turning to follow her, she was startled by a cry from Chloe.
“Sister!” she called. “Come quick! See what I have found!”
She was in the larder, which served them also as a dairy. Arminel hurried in. There stood Chloe, her face rosy with pleasure and surprise, a basket in her hands full of beautiful large eggs of the same rich browny colour as those which had come so mysteriously the evening of the dwarfs visit.
“After all,” said Chloe, “I believe the little man meant well by us. It must be he who has sent these eggs. Oh, Arminel! do let us try again to discover the secret of the third wish!”
But Arminel didn’t seem to hear what her sister was saying. Her eyes were fixed in amazement on the stone slab behind where Chloe was standing. There were two large bowls filled to the brim with new milk; it was many weeks since such a sight had been seen in the cottage.
“Chloe,” was all she could say as she pointed it out to her sister.
Chloe did not speak; she darted outside closely followed by Arminel. The same idea had come to them both, and they were not mistaken in it. There in the cow-house, in the hitherto unused stall beside Strawberry’s, stood the dearest little cow you could picture to yourself, dun-coloured, sleek, and silky, as if indeed she had just come from fairyland. She turned her large soft brown eyes on Arminel as the happy girl ran up to her, and gave a low soft “moo,” as if to say—“You’re my dear mistress. I know you will be kind to me, and in return I promise you that you shall find me the best of cows.”
But Arminel only waited to give her one loving pat, and then hurried off to the poultry yard.
There too a welcome sight awaited them. Twelve beautiful white hens were pecking about, and as Chloe drew near them she was greeted with clucks of welcome as the pretty creatures ran towards her.
“They know they belong to you, Chloe, you see,” said Arminel. “They are asking for their breakfast! See, what is that sack in the corner? it looks like corn for them.”
So it was, and in another moment Chloe had thrown them out a good handful, in which her old hens were allowed to share. Poor things, they had not had too much to eat just lately, and evidently the new-comers were of most amiable dispositions. All promised peace and prosperity.
The sisters made their way back to their little kitchen, but though they had now eggs in plenty and new milk for their coffee they felt too excited to eat.
“How can it have come about?” said Arminel. “Chloe, have you wished for anything without telling me?”
“Have you?” said Chloe, in her turn. “One of us wishing alone would not have been enough. All I know is, that in the night I felt so sorry for you that I said to myself if only your wish could be fulfilled I would give up my own.”
“How strange!” exclaimed Arminel; “the very same thing happened to me. I woke up and saw traces of tears on your face, and the thought went through me that if your wish could come to pass, I should be content.”
“Then we have found the secret,” said Chloe. “Each of us was to forget herself for the sake of the other; and the dwarf has indeed been a good friend.”
It would be difficult to describe the happiness that now reigned in the cottage, or the pride with which the sisters set off to market the next time with their well-filled baskets. And all through the winter it was the same. Never did the little cow’s milk fail, nor the number of eggs fall off, so that the sisters became quite famous in the neighbourhood for always having a supply of butter, poultry, and eggs of the best quality.
One evening, when the spring-time had come round again, the sisters were strolling in the outskirts of the forest, everything was looking calm and peaceful—the ground covered with the early wood-flowers, the little birds twittering softly before they settled to roost for the night.
“How sweet it is here,” said Arminel. “I never feel now as if I could be the least afraid of the forest, nor of a whole army of dwarfs if we met them.”
“I wish we could meet our dwarf,” said Chloe. “I would love to thank him for all the happiness he has given us.”
This was a wish they had often expressed before.
“Somehow,” said Arminel, “I have an idea that the dwarfs no longer inhabit the forest. Everything seems so much brighter and less gloomy than it used to do here. Besides, if our friend were still anywhere near, I cannot help thinking we should have seen him.”
As she said the words, they heard a rustling beside them. Where they stood there was a good deal of undergrowth, and for a moment or two they saw nothing, though the sound continued. Then suddenly a little figure emerged from among the trees and stood before them. It was their friend the dwarf.
At first sight he looked much the same as when they had last seen him; but the moment he began to speak they felt there was a difference. His voice was soft and mellow, instead of harsh and croaking; his brown eyes had lost the hunted, suspicious look which had helped to give him such a miserable expression.
“I am pleased that you have wished to see me again,” he said, kindly.
“Oh yes, indeed!” the sisters exclaimed; “we can never thank you enough for the happiness you have given us.”
“You have yourselves to thank for it as much as me, my children,” said the little man; “and in discovering the secret which has brought you prosperity, you have done for others also what you had no idea of. The spell under which I and my comrades have suffered so long is broken, now that one of us has been able to be of real and lasting benefit to some beings of the race who, ages ago, were the victims of our cruelty. We are now leaving the forest for ever. No longer need the young men and maidens shrink from strolling under these ancient trees, or the little children start away in terror from every rustle among the leaves for fear of seeing one of us.”
“Are you going to be giants again?” said Arminel, curiously.
The dwarf smiled.
“That I cannot tell you,” he said, as he shook his head; “and what does it matter? In some far-off land we shall again be happy, for we shall have learnt our lesson.”
And before the sisters had time to speak, he had disappeared; only the same little rustle among the bushes was to be heard for a moment or two. Then all was silent, till a faint “tu-whit—” from an owl waking up in the distance, and the first glimmer of the moonlight among the branches, warned Arminel and Chloe that it was time for them to be turning homewards.