Mick and the rest of the children ran to the other side of the bridge, and looking over, they saw him coming out from under the arch of the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the top of a white-headed wave, and playing away on the pipes as merrily as if nothing had happened. The river was running very rapidly, so he was whirled away at a great rate; but he played as fast, ay and faster, than the river ran; and though they set off as hard as they could along the bank, yet, as the river made a sudden turn round the hill, about a hundred yards below the bridge, by the time they got there he was out of sight, and no one ever laid eyes on him more; but the general opinion was that he went home with the pipes to his own relations, the good people, to make music for them.
“They must have been well-rid of such an uncomfortable child,” said King Oberon, though it was noticed that he and most of the fairies were laughing to think of the astonishment which must have been shown by Mick and Judy when the young piper went plump over into the river off the cart-load of furniture.
They were still laughing when a voice exclaimed,
“Mine is a short story with a long name.”
At once the laughter stopped and all turned to the stool on which a quaint Gnome was sitting with one leg over the knee of the other and with his hands clasping his foot was rocking backwards and forwards until he saw that everybody’s attention was directed to him, when he went on to say:
“Sometimes when fairy-folk who are not so good as they might be, try to do harm to people by pretending to do them good, they are not so successful, as you will learn from my tale of
