The road was long and she was homesick by the time she had reached a four-went way. There she sat down and cried, but had scarcely recovered when she saw a gentleman coming up to her. He bade her “good-morning” and asked her whither she went; and when she said that she was off to look for a servant’s place, he told her that he was in search of just such a clean and handsome girl for his own house. So Cherry went off with him, to milk his cow and look after his child; and she was to have good clothes when she got there.
They went down and down for a long way; the road was clouded over by trees and was growing darker and darker, when suddenly the man opened a gate in a wall and told her that there it was that he lived. She had never seen a garden so rich in fruit and flowers and singing birds. Was it enchanted? But no, the man was no fairy; he was too big. Presently his child appeared, a boy with piercing and crafty eyes, and an old hag, called “Aunt Prudence,” who prepared a choice supper for the girl; and she ate of it heartily. Cherry slept with the child at the top of the house and was told that, even if she could not sleep, she was to keep her eyes shut up there and not to speak to the boy; at dawn she was to wash him at a spring in the garden and rub his eyes—never her own—with an ointment; then she was to milk the cow and give the boy a bowl of the last milk; she was at all times to avoid curiosity.
All this she did until it came to milking the cow. But Cherry saw no cow and was calling “Pruit! Pruit! Pruit!” when out she came from among the trees as if from nowhere. All day, but it was easy work, she scalded milk, made butter, cleaned platters and bowls with water and sand, picked the fruit, weeded the garden. Sometimes the man kissed her for her pains.
A year passed. Aunt Prudence was sent away because she took Cherry into one of the forbidden rooms, where the floor was like glass and it was full of people turned to stone. Sometimes the master went away and left Cherry alone with the child.
The ointment was still a puzzle—but surely it made the child’s eyes see many things! So one day she anointed her own eyes with it. It burned her painfully, and running to the spring to wash it away she learned its power. For there, at the bottom of the water, was a world of little people at play and among them her master; and looking up she saw that the branches of the trees and the flowers and the grass were crowded with the same joyous people. Another day she looked through the keyhole of one of the forbidden rooms and saw her master there, and many ladies too, all singing, and one of these who looked like a queen he kissed. So when, as they were fruit gathering some time afterwards, the master leaned forward to kiss her, she struck him on the face, saying, that he might kiss the small people under the water. Next morning very early he called her from her bed, led her by the light of a lantern up the dark lane for a long way, and then disappeared, after telling her that at times she would still be able to see him on the hills; and when she had recovered from her sorrow she went home.
CHAPTER XXXIX
A HARVEST MOON
The first steep cornfield under the edge of the red moor lay all rough and warm with stubble in the evening light. The corn sheaves themselves were of a shining gold and leaned together in shocks that made long, low tents and invited the wayfarer to shelter and sleep. We had come over the moor for hours and this field was the beginning of a deep valley that stretched to the sea. Yonder was the sea, ten miles away, with a row of lights running out upon a nose of land far into it. The valley held one village half way towards the sea and several white farmhouses which sent the smoke of supper to explore the neighbouring ash trees.
A stream running straight from the moor gave us water and we ate our supper leaning against a corn shock. Our pipes soon went out, what with fatigue and indulgence in the warmth and the pleasant valley, brimming with summer haze and golden still.
We had been alone when, just as the light was going, two farm boys and a girl came into the field without noticing us. The girl sat at the top of the field and the boys took off their coats and laid them beside her. She arranged their folds and then sat straight up to watch. For down the field ran the boys, striding heavily side by side, each leaping the same shock until they had reached the bottom wall almost at the same time, where they argued and made claims to victory in broken voices. They walked quickly up again to the girl and threw themselves down panting, close to her, arguing together as much as they could without breath.