“Really,” he said, “it is so long ago that I hardly remember. My impression is, however, that I came down in the bucket.”
“Then why, in the name of common-sense,” said the traveller, “don’t you go up in the bucket?”
The little old man sprang up from the three-legged stool, and flung his arms around the traveller’s neck. “My dear friend!” he cried rapturously. “My precious benefactor! Thank you a thousand times for those words! I assure you I never thought of it before! I will go up at once. You will excuse me?”
“Certainly,” said the traveller. “Go up first, and I will follow you.”
“‘’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good!’”
The little old man got into the bucket, and was drawn up to the top of the well. But, alas! when the cook saw his long red nose and his long green coat, she said to herself, “This must be a radish! how lucky I am!” and seizing the poor little old man, she popped him into the kettle without more ado. Then she let the bucket down for the traveller, calling to him to make haste, as she wanted to send down her master’s dinner.
Up came the traveller, and looking around, asked where her master was.
“Where should he be,” said the cook, “but at the bottom of the well, where you left him?”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed the traveller. “He has just come up in the bucket!”