THE WATER-SPRITE
A little brother and sister were playing one day on the edge of a well that belonged to a water-sprite. The little girl held her brother’s hand, and leaned far over to look down into it.
“It seems to me that down below there I can see green meadows and flocks of sheep moving over them,” she said.
“It is only the reflection of the clouds,” said the little boy. “But be careful. I fear you will fall in.”
Even as he spoke the little girl slipped and fell into the well, and as she had hold of her brother’s hand she pulled him in after her.
The two children went down—down—down—through the waters, and when they came to the bottom they found themselves in a country of green meadows and trees and streams, and before them stood a shining castle with domes and towers.
This castle belonged to the water-sprite who owned the well.
