Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales | Page 8

dipping her pail just above the Nix's head, in a moment he jumped in,
and was brought safe to land. The maid was Bess, the washerwoman's
daughter; and as she had had one good scolding that morning for
oversleeping herself, and another about noon for dawdling with her
work, she took up the pail and set off home without delay.
But though she held it steadily enough, the bucket shook, and the water
spilled hither and thither. Thinking that her right arm might be tired,
she moved the weight to her left, but with no better success, for the
water still spilled at every step. "One would think there were fishes in
the pail," said Bess, as she set it down. But there was nothing to be seen
but a thin red water-worm wriggling at the bottom, such as you may see

any day in a soft-water tub. It was in this shape, however, that the Nix
had disguised himself, and he almost writhed out of his skin with
delight at the success of his first essay in mischief.
When they once more set forward the Nix leaped and jumped harder
than ever, so that not only was the water spilled, but the maiden's dress
was soaked, and her tears dropped almost as fast as the wet dripped
from her clothes.
"The pail is bewitched!" cried the poor girl. "How my mother will beat
me for this! And my back aches as if I were carrying lead, and yet the
water is nearly all gone."
"This is something like fun!" laughed the Nix. "When I go home and
relate my adventures, no dwarfs pranks will be named again!" But when
Bess looked into the pail, he was the same slimy, stupid-looking worm
as before. She dared not return to the lake for more water--"for," said
she, "I should be as much beaten for being late as for bringing short
measure, and have the labour to boot." So she took up her burden again,
and the Nix began his dance afresh, and by the time they came to their
journey's end, there was not a quart of water in the pail.
"Was ever a poor woman plagued with such a careless hussy?" cried
the mother when she saw the dripping dress; and, as Bess had expected,
she seasoned her complaints with a hearty slap. "And look what she
calls a pailful of water!" added the mother, with a second blow.
"Late in the morning's unlucky all day," thought poor Bess, and, as her
mother curled her, she screamed till the house rang with the noise; for
she had good lungs, and knew that it is well to cry out before one gets
too much hurt.
Meanwhile the Nix thought she was enduring agonies, and could hardly
contain his mischievous glee; and when the woman bade her "warm
some water quickly for the wash," he was in no way disturbed, for he
had never seen boiling water, and only anticipated fresh sport as he
slipped from the pail into the kettle.

"Now," cried the mother sharply, "see if you can lift that without
slopping your clothes."
"Aye, aye," laughed the Nix, "see if you can, my dear!" and as poor
Bess seized it in her sturdy red hands he began to dance as before. But
the kettle had a lid, which the pail had not. Moreover Bess was a strong,
strapping lass, and, stimulated by the remembrance of her mother's
slaps, with a vigorous effort she set the kettle on the fire. "I shall be
glad when I'm safely in bed," she muttered. "Everything goes wrong
to-day."
"It is warm in here," said the Nix to himself, after a while; "in
fact--stuffy. But one must pay something for a frolic, and it tickles my
ears to hear that old woman rating her daughter for my pranks. Give me
time and opportunity, and I'll set the whole stupid race by the ears.
There she goes again! It is worth enduring a little discomfort, though it
certainly is warm, and I fancy it grows warmer."
By degrees the bottom of the kettle grew quite hot, and burnt the Nix,
so that he had to jump up and down in the water to keep himself cool.
The noise of this made the woman think that the kettle was boiling, and
she began to scold her daughter as before, shouting, "Are you coming
with that tub to-night or not? The water is hot already."
This time the Nix laughed (as they say) on the other side of his mouth;
for the water had now become as hot as the bottom of the kettle, and he
screamed at the top of his shrill tiny voice with pain.
"How the kettle sings to-night!" said Bess, "and how it rains!" she