“As for me,” said the third sister, “I am but the younger of the family. I could not be in existence had not my sisters been born into the world. I am going to give you my sack; but take heed, it were better that you had no sack at all than that you should fill it too full; than that you should fling into it all that you see; than that you should pass by on the other side when, your sack being full, another human being, fallen amongst thieves, lies bleeding and wanting help! And now know that, though I am sometimes called Satchel, my name amongst the good people is the Fairy Save-some.”
“Good by,” suddenly said the three sisters. They smiled, and instantly they were gone—just like Three Thoughts.
So he turned his face towards home, with sorrow in his heart as he thought of the three sisters, while hope was mixed with the sadness as he glanced towards the far-off mountain which was called Mons Futura.
Now, Peterkin had never cared to climb hillsides, and, therefore he rarely went down them if he could help it, always lazily stopping at the top. But now the wonderful stick, as he pressed it upon the ground, seemed to give him a light heart, and a lighter pair of heels, and he danced up the hillside just as though he were holiday-making, soon reaching home.
“See, mother,” said Peterkin, “the good women have given me each a present—the one her stick, the second her glasses, and the third her wallet.”
“Ho!” said Gredel. “Well, I am not sorry they are gone, for I am afraid they would soon have made you despise your mother. They are very pleasant old people no doubt, but rude and certainly ill-bred, or they would not have put my house to rights.”
“But it looked all the better for it.”
“It looked very well as it was.”
“But the world goes on and on,” said Peterkin.
Gredel shook her head. “Humph!” she said, “a stick, an old pair of spectacles, and a sack not worth a dime! When people give gifts, let them be gifts and not cast-offs.”