"Come in! come in!"
On entering the lodge, the magician heaved a great groan from the very bottom of his chest, and Maidwa saw that the crown of his head was all bare and bloody.
"Sit down, sit down," he said, "while I prepare you something to eat. You see how poor I am. I have to attend to all my own wants, with no other servant than that poor little kettle in the corner. Kettle, we will have something to eat, if you please."
"In a moment," the kettle spoke up from the corner.
"You will oblige me by making all the dispatch you can," said the magician, in a very humble tone, still addressing the kettle.
"Have patience," replied the kettle, "and I will be with you presently."
After a considerable delay, there came forward out of the corner from which it had spoken, a great heavy-browed and pot-bodied kettle, which advanced with much stateliness and solemnity of manner till it had come directly in front of the magician, whom it addressed with the question:
"What shall we have, sir?"
"Corn, if you please," the magician answered.
"No, we will have whortleberries," rejoined the kettle, in a firm voice.