"Oh, yes, yes, I remember," said Kitty, and she made haste to dress herself and come down.
"Good morning, mistress; how have you slept?" said the Ouphe, in a gentle voice, to her.
"Not so well as I could have wished, sir," said Kitty.
The Ouphe smiled. "I slept very well," he said. "The supper was good, and kindly given, without any thought of reward."
"And that is the certain truth," interrupted Kitty: "I never had the least thought what you were till my husband told me."
The woodman had gone out to cut some fresh cresses for his guest's breakfast.
"I am sorry, mistress," said the Ouphe, "that you slept uneasily—my race are said sometimes by their presence to affect the dreams of you mortals, Where is my knapsack? Shall I leave it behind me in payment of bed and board?"
"Oh, no, no, I pray you don't," said the little wife, blushing and stepping back; "you are kindly welcome to all you have had, I'm sure: don't repay us so, sir."
"What, mistress, and why not?" asked the Ouphe, smiling. "It is as full of gold pieces as it can hold, and I shall never miss them."
"No, I entreat you, do not," said Kitty, "and do not offer it to my husband, for maybe he has not been warned as I have."