“Quite ready to start, mistress,” said a little voice that made Patty jump, for the fairy had not told her that the pitcher could speak; but screwing up courage, she said: “Come on, then, Pitcher,” and set the example by starting off into a run.
And didn’t the pitcher follow her in good earnest! Indeed, it ran so fast that it soon overtook her, and not only that, but it ran beyond her, long before she got half-way home.
But the most surprising thing was that, although it hopped along with the most wonderful strides and jumps over the rough places in its path, it did not spill one single drop of water in its progress. This puzzled Patty, who, with her utmost care, could never avoid wetting her dress whenever she had tried to run with the pitcher, even half full.
“What will people think when we get into the village?” thought Patty, as she looked at her strange companion; “I’m sure they will be frightened, and what will father and mother say when they see what I have brought home with me?”
“Do not trouble yourself about that,” said the pitcher, who seemed to know her thoughts; “your parents will soon get accustomed to me, and be much pleased when they see how handy I am, for you do not yet know half of my good qualities.”
As he was speaking, they came to a very high stile. “Shall I help you over?” said Patty, thinking of his short legs.
“Oh, dear, no,” said the pitcher; “see how little I need it.” And, so saying, he skipped over the stile in the most graceful manner. As he did so, a dog who was passing put his tail between his legs, and after two or three very weak barks, scurried off in evident fright and surprise.
A man was at the same time coming along the road with a slow and pompous walk—for he was the squire of the village—who, upon seeing the strange pitcher clear the stile, was rendered almost speechless with amazement; but as soon as he saw the little legs speeding toward him, he uttered one loud exclamation of terror, and fled!
His hat flew one way, his cane another, and his cloak mounted into the air like wings. Being very fat, however, he had not gone far before his legs failed him, and he lay kicking in a furze bush, roaring for help. Patty could not help laughing at the sight, but the pitcher, trotting on with the greatest unconcern, soon reached the cottage door to the astonishment of Patty’s parents.
The pitcher walked quietly into the cottage, and sat down in a corner, tucking its legs carefully under it, so that no one could see them. The neighbors, therefore, who had been alarmed at the squire’s account of his fright and disaster, and came to the cottage in crowds, only saw a pitcher, such as they all had at home, and put the old squire down as being a little bit out of his mind.