Round Valley
They called it Round Valley because it really was round, hemmed in by very high hills, except on the west; here there was an opening through the hills, down the middle of which flowed a mill stream which drained the valley. Part way down the gap between the hills was a mill dam; and a short distance below the dam was the mill. The miller was a little Gnome who lived in the mill with his wife and daughter. The mother had once been beautiful, but hard work had made her old before her time. Her face was wrinkled; there were crow’s feet in the corners of her eyes; her steps were slow and feeble and her hair was growing gray.
The daughter was a very beautiful and charming girl; she was happy-hearted. She moved around quickly, helping her mother wash the dishes, sweep the floor, put wood on the fire, take up the ashes, milk the cow and feed the pigs and chickens. As she did these things she often smiled, and anyone who took the trouble to watch her could easily see that she had happy thoughts.
There were many Little People living in this valley. You seldom saw them but often heard them. In one place below the mill the water fell over some rocks, and here, if you listened, you could hear some of them saying: “Urgle, urgle, urgle,” just as plain!
Some lived in the branches of the pines and cooed: “Whoo, whoo, whoo,” and others called from the dry grass: “z-z-z.” Everywhere their voices could be heard, but very soft and low—for they were Little People.
Every day the Gnome worked in the mill—pouring grain into the hopper, tying up the bags of flour and writing in a big book in one corner of the mill. His clothes were always full of flour, and though he banged them with his hands and shook himself before going into the house, he was always gray or white. He was always busy, and seldom came into the house except for meals; but he appeared to be interested in his work and quite cheerful.
One evening the sky became dark earlier than usual, and a mist fell over the valley; then the wind rose and the rain began to fall. It was a dismal night out of doors, but within the miller’s house it was bright and cheerful. The window panes shone in the light from the bright fire burning in the fireplace; the curtains over the windows drooped gracefully and were clean and white; there was a bookshelf filled with new books with golden titles and a shelf filled with flowers in pots in one of the windows. The room was clean and dry and warm as the miller and his wife and daughter sat down to their evening meal.
As they sat eating and talking there came a knock at the door and the daughter went to open it. A dark-eyed Stranger was standing on the threshold. “Come in quickly,” said the girl, “the wind is driving the dead leaves and the rain into the house. You are very welcome; come and share our meal!”
The Stranger muttered his thanks and drew a chair to the fire. The mother went upstairs and presently came down again. “You are very wet,” said she. “I have laid out a suit of my husband’s in the room above. Go up and put it on! It will keep you warm and dry until your own is ready.” So saying she opened the door of the stairway and stood aside to allow the Stranger to pass.