“Then she shall have half,” said Little One in great glee. “Here, poor woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be hungry again!”
“Heavenly child!” said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the sylphid’s bright head, and blessing her, “it is little except thanks that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well.”
Little One’s delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far behind, and out of sight. They were magical shoes; but, no matter how fast they skimmed over the ground, Dorel, out of pure love, continued to go before, talking and laughing and smoothing the way.
One by one Little One sold her jewels to buy bread, which she shared with all the needy she chanced to meet. After many days there remained but one gem; and she wept because she had no more to give. But, through her tears, she now, for the first time, fancied she could see the spires and turrets of her beautiful home, though, as yet, very far off.
“How fast I have come!” said she, laughing with delight. “But for these magical shoes, and Dorel’s pruning-knife, I should have been even now struggling at the foot of the hill.”
Then she looked down at her torn dress.
“What a sad plight I am in! no one will know me when I get home!”
“Never fear!” said the fairy: “you are sure to be welcome.”
Little One now held up her last jewel in the sunlight, while a starving boy looked at it with eager eyes.
“Take it!” said she, weeping with the tenderest pity. “I only wish it were a diamond instead of a ruby,—a diamond as large as my heart!”