"Oh, you do! Pray, whom for?"
"For my dear mother, who is lying very ill at home."
"Oh, well you look like a tolerably good boy, and I believe I will permit you to go, under certain conditions. I am a génie; so, you see, I could cook and eat you, if I liked. You must reap all my wheat, thrash out the grains, grind them into flour, and knead the flour into loaves, and bake them. You will find all the tools you want in the cave. When all is done, you can call me; but till you have finished, you shall not stir a step." So saying, he disappeared in a streak of blue smoke.
Mark had listened in terror, and, when the génie was out of sight, he looked all round him. On every side were immense fields of wheat. He raised his arms, then dropped them in despair, and, covering his face with his hands, cried out, "Oh, fairy Benevolence, come and help me!"
"Go to work, Mark," said a soft voice close to his ear.
Mark, upon this, took up a scythe and began to cut the wheat. This took five times twenty-one days; four times twenty-one days were spent in thrashing the grain; three times twenty-one days in grinding it into flour; and twice twenty-one days in making it into loaves, and baking them.
As fast as the loaves were taken out of the oven, they arranged themselves in even rows, like books on the shelves.
When all was done, Mark called the génie, saying, "Here they are, sir, smoking hot."
The little man appeared immediately, and counted them—five hundred thousand loaves. He tasted a bit from the first and last loaf, smacked his lips, and said they were "prime." Then he took a snuff box from his pocket, and said to Mark, "Here, take this, and when you return home, you will find it filled with a new kind of snuff."
Mark thanked the génie, who immediately disappeared in a streak of brown smoke.