“Indeed, sir,” said Kate, earnestly, “I do not care for any return for——”
“Do as I tell you!” bellowed the dwarf, in a fury.
Kate crossed the room, opened the cupboard, and—what a sight met her eyes! All the dishes, bowls, cups and saucers were of pure gold.
“Take one of the cups?” said Kate, in breathless doubt.
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” snarled the dwarf. “You are just like all women, never contented with what you receive.”
Catherine was far too wise to answer foolish abuse with useless excuse; she silently took one of the beautiful cups and put it in her basket. She was so overcome that she did not think of any word of thanks until she had reached the door; then, turning: “May heaven bless you, sir, for——”
“Shut the door!” screamed the dwarf.
Kate hurried home, but before reaching the town she wisely covered the cup with snow, that no gossiping neighbor might catch sight of it; for she well knew that gossip was like the snow-ball that the little boys start rolling from the top of a hill—small in the commencement, but sure to grow before it ends its course.
“Where have you been all this time?” whined Peter.
When Kate recounted her adventure, her father could hardly believe her, and when she had carefully removed the snow from the cup, he could hardly believe his eyes. He placed it upon the table, and then, sitting down in front of it, he examined it with breathless astonishment and delight.