“No wonder you could not find your wooden spoon,” remarked Satchel; “why, here it is, most mysteriously up the chimney!”
There was such a dusting, sweeping, and general cleaning as the place had never seen before.
“This is great fun!” said Peterkin; “but how it makes you sneeze!”
“Here, dame Gredel,” cried Satchel; “I have picked up all the things you must have lost for the last three years. Here is your thimble; and now you can take the bit of leather off your finger. Here are your scissors, which will cut cloth better than that knife; and here is the lost leg of the third stool—so that I can now sit down in safety.”
“Why,” exclaimed Peterkin, “the place looks twice as large as it did, and ten times brighter. Mother, I am glad the ladies have come.”
“I am sure, ladies,” said the good woman, “I shall never forget your visit.”
To tell the truth, however, there was something very ambiguous in Gredel’s words.
“There!” said Trot; “and now I can sit down in comfort to my bread and milk.”
“And very good bread and milk, too,” said Satchel. “I think, sisters, we are quite fortunate to fall upon this goodly cot.”
“Yes,” remarked Trot, “they are not bad souls, this Gredel and Peterkin; but, they sadly want mending. However, they have good hearts, and you know that those who love much are forgiven much; and indeed I would sooner eat my supper here than in some palaces you and I, sisters, know something about.”