That was what saved Merrimeg. The wind that sprang up from the wind bags was twice as strong as it has been before. It caught her, and tore her loose, and picked her up, and whirled her up the chimney, right up to the top of it and out.
There she was, standing in the bright sunshine, on the roof of her own house, looking down into the cabbage garden.
It was a little house, only one story high, but it was too high for her to jump down to the ground; so she crawled to the edge of the roof, and sure enough there was the garden ladder standing against the front wall of the house, and it didn’t take her more than a minute to clamber down the ladder and run to the door.
She knocked on the door and waited for her mother to let her in.
The door opened, and her mother stood in the doorway looking at her. When she saw the little girl who was waiting on the step she raised both her hands in astonishment and opened her mouth wide.
“Oh, mother!” cried Merrimeg. “Let me in, quick! I’m terrible sorry, and I’ve been up the chimney, and I’ll never, never do so any more, indeed I won’t!”
“Why, child,” said her mother, “who are you?”
“Let me in, mother!”
“Who are you, child?”
“Who am I? I’m Merrimeg, of course! Let me in!”