So she changed to a calf again, and Larry got on her back. At another bound they were standing inside the Fairy Ring.
Then the Queen, once more assuming her own shape, addressed him.
“You have shown so much courage, Larry Hoolahan,” said she, “that while you keep herds on this hill, you shall not be molested by me or mine. The day dawns. Go down to the farmer, and tell him this. And, if anything I can do will be of service to you, ask and you shall have it.”
She vanished accordingly, and kept her word in never visiting the hill during Larry’s lifetime; but he never troubled her with requests. He piped, and ate and drank at the farmer’s expense, and roosted in the chimney-corner, occasionally casting an eye on the herd. He died at last; and is buried in a green valley of pleasant Tipperary. But whether the Fairies returned to the hill after his death is more than I can say.
THE WOOD-LADY
From Bohemia
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Betty. Her mother was a widow and very poor, and owned only a tumble-down house and two goats. Nevertheless, Betty was always cheerful. From Spring to Autumn she pastured the goats in the birch wood. Every morning when she left home, her mother gave her a little basket in which were a slice of bread and a spindle.
“My child,” she said, “work hard to-day and fill the spindle before you return.”