Now of all this the farmer’s wife was quite unaware, and you shall hear what befell her in consequence.
It chanced to be very wet on the next market day, and when presently the rain began to drip upon her bonnet through the canvas roof of the stall, she was very glad to be able to put up the umbrella and shelter beneath it.
It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and she had sold most of her eggs and butter.
A little boy came along and asked for three fresh eggs.
“There you are, my love,” she said. “The last three.”
She held the umbrella in one hand and with the other put the eggs into the boy’s basket.
“One, two, three,” she said. And instantly she found herself standing in the middle of her own pleasant kitchen, with her basket on her arm and the open umbrella still firmly held in her hand.
You can imagine how surprised and puzzled she was. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she had got there, but she decided to say nothing about it to any one.
When presently her husband came in for his tea he asked why she had come home so early.
“I had a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think the sun was too strong for me.”