It was indeed a turning of the tables for a dwarf to be afraid of them. It gave the sisters courage to speak to him. “We heard your cries,” said Arminel. “Ever so far off in our cottage across the fields we heard them. What is the matter? Have you hurt yourself?” The little man groaned.

“I have had a fall,” he said, “from a branch of the tree under which I am lying. I climbed up to shake down some large fir-cones, and lost my footing. I have hurt myself sadly. I feel bruised all over. How I shall ever get back to my comrades I do not know,” and again he groaned.

He was not a very courageous dwarf evidently; perhaps the courage of the race had been lost with its stature! But the sisters felt very sorry for him.

“Have you broken any bones, do you think?” said Chloe, who was very practical.

The dwarf turned and twisted himself about with many sighs and moans.

“No,” said he, “I think I am only bruised and terribly cold. I have been lying here so long, so long. I cannot go home; they are miles away in the centre of the forest.”

Arminel and Chloe considered. They did not much like the idea of the uncanny creature spending a night under their roof, even though they no longer feared that he was playing them any trick. If the mere sight of a dwarf brought ill-luck, what might not they expect from the visit of one of the spell-bound race? But their grandmother’s words returned to their mind.

“You must come home with us,” they said, speaking together. “We can at least give you shelter and warmth, and a night’s rest may do you much good.”

“There is the salve for bruises which granny taught us to make,” added Chloe.

“We have some of it by us, I know.” The dwarf gave a sigh of relief.

“Maidens,” he said, “you shall never have cause to regret your kindness. I know your cottage. We have often watched you when you little knew it. I think I could make shift to walk there if you will each give me an arm.” They got him to his feet with some difficulty. He was so small, hardly reaching up to their elbows, that it ended in their almost carrying him between them. And they seemed to get home much more quickly than they had come, even though they walked slowly. The dwarf knew every step of the way, and his queer bead-like eyes pierced through the darkness as if it had been noonday.

“A little to the right,” he would say, or, “a few paces to the left, the ground is better.”

And almost before they knew where they were they found themselves before their own door. The wind had gone down, all was peaceful and still, and inside the kitchen was a picture of comfort, the fire burning red and cheerily.

“Ah,” said the little man, when they had settled him on a stool in front of the hearth, “this is good!” and he stretched out his small brown hands to the ruddy glow. “It is long since I have seen such a fire, and very long since I have been in a room like this.” But then he grew quite silent, and the sisters did not like to ask him what he meant.

Chloe busied herself with the coffee which boiled up in no time; and in the larder, to her surprise, when she went in to fetch a loaf of bread intended for the sisters’ supper, she found a pat of butter and a jug of cream which she had not known were there. She was very pleased, for both she and Arminel had hospitable hearts, and she would have been sorry to have had nothing for their guest but dry bread and skim-milk coffee.

“Arminel,” she said, as she came back into the kitchen, “you had forgotten this cream and butter, fortunately so, for now we can give our friend a nice supper.”

Arminel looked quite astonished.

“I took all the butter there was with me to market this morning, and I never keep cream except for our Sunday treat.”

But there was another surprise in store.

Arminel in her turn went into the larder.

“Chloe!” she called out, “see what you have forgotten. Eggs!” and she held up three large, beautiful brown eggs.

“I don’t know where they have come from,” said Chloe. “I’m certain they were not there when I packed my basket. Besides, none of my hens lay eggs of that colour.”

“Never mind,” said the dwarf; “here they are, and that is enough. We shall now have an omelette for supper. An omelette and hot coffee! That is a supper for a king.”

He seemed to be getting quite bright and cheerful, and complained no more of his bruises as he sat there basking in the pleasant warmth of the fire. Supper was soon ready, and the three spent a pleasant evening; the little man asking the sisters many questions about their life and occupations. They told him all about their present troubles, and he told them to keep up heart, and never forget their good grandmother’s counsel.

“Did you know our grandmother?” they asked in surprise.

“I have heard of her,” was all he said; and though they were curious to know more, they did not venture to question him further.

After supper they made up a bed for him on the kitchen settle, where he said he was sure he would sleep most comfortably.

“And now farewell,” he added; “I shall be off in the morning before you are stirring. Your kindness has so refreshed me that I feel sure I shall be able to make my way home without difficulty.”

He gave a little sigh as he spoke.

“I would fain do what I can in return for your goodness,” he continued. “Some things are still in my power. I can give you three wishes which, under certain conditions, will be fulfilled.”

The sisters’ eyes sparkled with delight.

“Oh, thank you a thousand times,” they said. “Pray tell us what we must do, and we will follow your orders exactly.”

“Three wishes between you are all I can give,” he replied. “One each, and the fulfilment of these depends upon the third, to which a secret is attached, and this secret you must discover for yourselves. The key of it is, I trust, in your own hearts.”

“We will do our best to find it,” said Arminel. “If it has to do with our love for each other you may trust us. Chloe and I never quarrel.”

But suddenly, as she said this, the remembrance of that day struck her, and she grew red, feeling the dwarfs eyes fixed upon her.

“At least,” she added hurriedly, “I should say we seldom quarrel, though I’m afraid our anxieties lately have not sweetened our tempers.”

“Beware, then, for the future,” said the dwarf. “All will depend on yourselves.”

The sisters went to bed full of eagerness and hopefulness, longing for the next day to come that they might decide how to use their strange friend’s gift.

“I shall not be able to sleep,” said Arminel; “my head is so full of the three wishes.”

“And so is mine,” said her sister.

“You shall have the first, Arminel, and I the second. The third will be the one to ponder over.”

“I shall have no difficulty in deciding,” said Arminel. “And you, Chloe, being the younger, must, of course, be guided partly by my advice.”

“I don’t see that at all,” said Chloe. “The dwarf said nothing about elder or younger, and – ”

At this moment a loud snore from the kitchen reminded them that their guest was still there.

“Dear, dear,” said Chloe. “What would he think if he heard us beginning to quarrel already? We must beware.”

But Arminel was not so ready to give in, and there is no saying what might not have befallen, had it not happened that the moment her head touched the pillow she fell fast asleep. And Chloe quickly followed her example.

They awoke later than usual the next morning, feeling quite rested and refreshed.

“I never slept so soundly in my life,” said Arminel. “I suppose it was with being so tired.”

“I don’t know,” said Chloe. “I have an idea that our friend had something to do with our falling asleep so quickly to prevent us quarrelling. Now, Arminel, whatever we do, let us remember his warning.”

“Of course, I don’t want to quarrel,” her sister replied. “We didn’t need the dwarf to come here to tell us to be good friends. But, after all, his promise of fulfilling our wishes may be nonsense. I long to test it. I wonder if he is still there, by the bye.”

No, he was gone; the little bed they had made up for him on the settle, of some extra blankets and pillows, was neatly folded away. The fire was already lighted and burning brightly, the kettle singing on the hearth – the room showed signs of having been carefully swept and dusted, and the window was slightly open to admit a breath of the fresh morning air.

“Good little dwarf!” exclaimed Arminel. “I wish he would pay us a visit often if he helps us so nicely with our work.”

They sat down to breakfast in the best of spirits; and when the meal was over, and they went out, they found that the dwarf’s good offices had not been confined to the house. The cow was carefully foddered, and looking most prosperous and comfortable – the poultry had been seen to, the hen-house cleaned out, and already, early as it was, several lovely cream white eggs had been laid in the nests.

All this was very encouraging. “There can be no sort of doubt,” said Chloe, “that our friend, dwarf though he be, has a kind heart and magic power. I feel certain his promises are to be relied upon. But remember, Arminel, the first two wishes will be no good unless we agree about the third. What shall we do?”

“I propose,” said Arminel, who had plenty of good sense, “that we go about our work as usual till this evening. Then each of us will have had time to decide as to her own wish, and each of us can propose something for the third. As to the third, we can then consult together.”

To this Chloe agreed.

They spoke little to each other during the day, but when the light began to fail their work was over. They sat down together by the fire.

“Now for a good talk,” said Chloe. “We have the whole evening before us.”

“Five minutes would be enough for me,” said Arminel. “I’ve got my wish cut and dry. I have been longing to tell you all day, but I thought it best to keep to our determination of this morning.”

“How strange!” said Chloe. “I am just in the same condition. I decided upon my wish almost immediately. Tell me what yours is, and I will tell you mine.”

“My wish,” said Arminel, “is to have a cow. A dun-coloured cow I think I should prefer – I can picture her so sweet and pretty – who would give milk all the year round without ever running short.”

“Excellent,” cried Chloe; “my wish goes well with yours. For what I want is a dozen hens who would each lay an egg every morning in the year without fail. I should thus have as many fresh eggs as I could possibly want, and enough to spare for setting whenever I liked. Some of my present hens are very good mothers, and would hatch them beautifully.”

“I think your wish a very good one,” said Arminel. “But now as to the fulfilment. We have now expressed our wishes distinctly, but there is no use as yet in going to look for the new cow in the shed or hens in the hen-house, seeing that there remains, alas! the third one! What can it be?”

“Could it be for a hen-house?” said Chloe; “my poor hens are not very well off in their present one, and it is right to make one’s animals comfortable; so this would be a kind-hearted wish.”

“Not more than to wish for a warm shed for my cows,” said Arminel. “Cows require much more care than hens. I daresay that is what we are meant to wish for.”

“I am certain it is not,” said Chloe. “At least, if you wish for a cow-shed, I wish for a hen-house.”

“That, of course, is nonsense,” said Arminel. “I feel sure the dwarf meant we were to agree in what we wished for. And if you were amiable and unselfish you would join with me, Chloe.”

“I might say precisely the same thing to you,” said Chloe coldly.

And though they went on talking till bedtime they came to no conclusion. Indeed, I fear a good many sharp and unkind words passed between them, and they went to bed without saying good-night to each other. So far it did not seem as if the dwarf’s gift was to bring them happiness.

Chapter Six.
The Story of the Three Wishes – concluded

When they woke in the morning they were in a calmer state of mind, and began to see how foolish they had been.

“Chloe,” said Arminel, as they sat at breakfast, “we were very nearly quarrelling last night; and if we quarrel we shall certainly never find out the secret of the third wish; and all our hopes will be at an end. Now, let us think over quietly what the third wish is likely to be. Let me see – what were the dwarf’s exact words?”

“He said we must seek for it in our own hearts,” replied Chloe. “That means, of course, that it must be something kind.”

“Perhaps he meant that it must be something to do us both good,” said Arminel. “What is there we are equally in want of? Oh! I know; suppose we wish for a good stack of fuel for the winter. That would certainly benefit us both.”

“It can do no harm to try,” said Chloe; “so I agree to the wish for a stack of fuel.”

Arminel’s eyes sparkled.

“I daresay we have guessed it,” she exclaimed, jumping up. “Come out at once to see, Chloe.”

But, alas! the heap of brushwood for their winter’s firing, in the corner of the yard, had grown no bigger than the day before. No fresh sounds of cheerful cackling reached them from the hen-house; and Strawberry stood alone in her stall.

The wishes were still unfulfilled.

The sisters returned to the house rather crestfallen.

“What can it be?” said Arminel; and this time Chloe made a suggestion.

“Supposing we wish that the copper coins we have put aside for our Christmas charities should be turned into silver,” she said. “That would be a kind thought for the very poor folk we try to help a little.”

“As you like,” said her sister; “but I doubt its being any use. We are always told that charity which costs us nothing is little worth.”

She was right. When they opened the little box which held the coins she spoke of, there they still were, copper as before, so this time it was no use to look outside for the new cow and hens. And all through the day they went on thinking first of one thing, then of another, without any success, so that by the evening their work had suffered from their neglect, and they went tired and dispirited to bed.

The next day they were obliged to work doubly hard to make up, and one or two new ideas occurred to them which they put to the test, always, alas! with the same result.

“We are wasting our time and our temper for no use,” said Arminel at last.

“I am afraid the truth is that the dwarf was only playing us a mischievous trick.” And even Chloe was forced to allow that it seemed as if her sister was in the right.

“We will try to forget all about it,” said Arminel. “It must be indeed true that having anything to do with the dwarfs only brings bad luck.”

But though she spoke courageously, Chloe was wakened in the night by hearing her sister crying softly to herself.

“Poor dear Arminel,” thought Chloe, though she took care to lie quite still as if sleeping. “I do feel for her. If I had but my hens I could soon make up to her for her disappointment.”

But of course as the dun cow did not come, neither did the fairy hens, and a time of really great anxiety began for the sisters. Strawberry’s milk dwindled daily; so did the number of eggs, till at last something very like real poverty lay before them. They were almost ashamed to go to market, so little had they to offer to their customers. Never had they been so unhappy or distressed.

But out of trouble often comes good. Their affection for each other grew stronger, and all feelings of jealousy died away as each felt more and more sorry for her sister.

“If only we had never gone near the wood,” said Arminel one evening when things were looking very gloomy indeed, “none of these worst troubles would have come upon us, I feel sure. I begin to believe everything that has been said about those miserable dwarfs. It is very good of you, dear Chloe, not to blame me as the cause of all our misfortunes, for it was I who heard the cries in the wood and made you come with me to see what was the matter.”

“How could I blame you?” said Chloe. “We did it together, and it was what grandmother would have wished. If we had not gone we should always have reproached ourselves for not doing a kind action, and even as things are, even supposing we are suffering from the dwarfs spitefulness, it is better to suffer with a clear conscience than to prosper with a bad one.”

Her words comforted her sister a little. They kissed each other affectionately and went to bed, sad at heart certainly, but not altogether despondent.

In the night Arminel awoke. There was bright moonlight in the room, and as she glanced at her sleeping sister, she saw traces of tears on Chloe’s pale face.

“My poor sister!” she said to herself. “She has been crying, and would not let me know it. I do not care for myself, if only dear Chloe could have her hens. I could bear the disappointment about my cow. How I wish it might be so.”

As the thought passed through her mind, a sweet feeling of peace and satisfaction stole over her. She closed her eyes and almost immediately fell asleep, and slept soundly.

Very soon after this in her turn Chloe awoke. She, too, sat up and looked at her sister. There was a smile on Arminel’s sleeping face which touched Chloe almost more than the traces of tears on her own had touched her sister.

“Poor dear Arminel,” she thought. “She is dreaming, perhaps, of her dun cow. How little I should mind my own disappointment if I could see her happy. Oh! I do wish she could have her cow!”

And having thought this, she, too, as her sister had done, fell asleep with a feeling of peace and hopefulness such as she had not had for long.

The winter sun was already some little way up on his journey when the sisters awoke the next morning, for they had slept much later than usual. Arminel was the first to start up with a feeling that something pleasant had happened.

“Chloe!” she exclaimed. “We have overslept ourselves. And on such a bright morning, too! How can it have happened?”

Chloe opened her eyes and looked about her with a smile.

“Yes, indeed,” she replied. “One could imagine it was summer time, and I have had such a good night, and such pleasant dreams.”

“So have I,” answered her sister. “And I am so hungry!”

That was scarcely to be wondered at, for they had gone almost supperless to bed, and there was little if anything in the larder for their breakfast.

“I am hungry too,” said Chloe. “But I am afraid there isn’t much for our breakfast. However, I feel in much better spirits, though I don’t know why.”

Chloe was ready a little before her sister, and hastened into the kitchen, to light the fire and prepare such food as there was. But just as Arminel was turning to follow her, she was startled by a cry from Chloe.

“Sister!” she called. “Come quick! See what I have found!”

She was in the larder, which served them also as a dairy. Arminel hurried in. There stood Chloe, her face rosy with pleasure and surprise, a basket in her hands full of beautiful large eggs of the same rich browny colour as those which had come so mysteriously the evening of the dwarfs visit.

“After all,” said Chloe, “I believe the little man meant well by us. It must be he who has sent these eggs. Oh, Arminel! do let us try again to discover the secret of the third wish!”

But Arminel didn’t seem to hear what her sister was saying. Her eyes were fixed in amazement on the stone slab behind where Chloe was standing. There were two large bowls filled to the brim with new milk; it was many weeks since such a sight had been seen in the cottage.

“Chloe,” was all she could say as she pointed it out to her sister.

Chloe did not speak; she darted outside closely followed by Arminel. The same idea had come to them both, and they were not mistaken in it. There in the cow-house, in the hitherto unused stall beside Strawberry’s, stood the dearest little cow you could picture to yourself, dun-coloured, sleek, and silky, as if indeed she had just come from fairyland. She turned her large soft brown eyes on Arminel as the happy girl ran up to her, and gave a low soft “moo,” as if to say – “You’re my dear mistress. I know you will be kind to me, and in return I promise you that you shall find me the best of cows.”

But Arminel only waited to give her one loving pat, and then hurried off to the poultry yard.

There too a welcome sight awaited them. Twelve beautiful white hens were pecking about, and as Chloe drew near them she was greeted with clucks of welcome as the pretty creatures ran towards her.

“They know they belong to you, Chloe, you see,” said Arminel. “They are asking for their breakfast! See, what is that sack in the corner? it looks like corn for them.”

So it was, and in another moment Chloe had thrown them out a good handful, in which her old hens were allowed to share. Poor things, they had not had too much to eat just lately, and evidently the new-comers were of most amiable dispositions. All promised peace and prosperity.

The sisters made their way back to their little kitchen, but though they had now eggs in plenty and new milk for their coffee they felt too excited to eat.

“How can it have come about?” said Arminel. “Chloe, have you wished for anything without telling me?”

“Have you?” said Chloe, in her turn. “One of us wishing alone would not have been enough. All I know is, that in the night I felt so sorry for you that I said to myself if only your wish could be fulfilled I would give up my own.”

“How strange!” exclaimed Arminel; “the very same thing happened to me. I woke up and saw traces of tears on your face, and the thought went through me that if your wish could come to pass, I should be content.”

“Then we have found the secret,” said Chloe. “Each of us was to forget herself for the sake of the other; and the dwarf has indeed been a good friend.”

It would be difficult to describe the happiness that now reigned in the cottage, or the pride with which the sisters set off to market the next time with their well-filled baskets. And all through the winter it was the same. Never did the little cow’s milk fail, nor the number of eggs fall off, so that the sisters became quite famous in the neighbourhood for always having a supply of butter, poultry, and eggs of the best quality.

One evening, when the spring-time had come round again, the sisters were strolling in the outskirts of the forest, everything was looking calm and peaceful – the ground covered with the early wood-flowers, the little birds twittering softly before they settled to roost for the night.

“How sweet it is here,” said Arminel. “I never feel now as if I could be the least afraid of the forest, nor of a whole army of dwarfs if we met them.”

“I wish we could meet our dwarf,” said Chloe. “I would love to thank him for all the happiness he has given us.”

This was a wish they had often expressed before.

“Somehow,” said Arminel, “I have an idea that the dwarfs no longer inhabit the forest. Everything seems so much brighter and less gloomy than it used to do here. Besides, if our friend were still anywhere near, I cannot help thinking we should have seen him.”

As she said the words, they heard a rustling beside them. Where they stood there was a good deal of undergrowth, and for a moment or two they saw nothing, though the sound continued. Then suddenly a little figure emerged from among the trees and stood before them. It was their friend the dwarf.

At first sight he looked much the same as when they had last seen him; but the moment he began to speak they felt there was a difference. His voice was soft and mellow, instead of harsh and croaking; his brown eyes had lost the hunted, suspicious look which had helped to give him such a miserable expression.

“I am pleased that you have wished to see me again,” he said, kindly.

“Oh yes, indeed!” the sisters exclaimed; “we can never thank you enough for the happiness you have given us.”

“You have yourselves to thank for it as much as me, my children,” said the little man; “and in discovering the secret which has brought you prosperity, you have done for others also what you had no idea of. The spell under which I and my comrades have suffered so long is broken, now that one of us has been able to be of real and lasting benefit to some beings of the race who, ages ago, were the victims of our cruelty. We are now leaving the forest for ever. No longer need the young men and maidens shrink from strolling under these ancient trees, or the little children start away in terror from every rustle among the leaves for fear of seeing one of us.”

“Are you going to be giants again?” said Arminel, curiously.

The dwarf smiled.

“That I cannot tell you,” he said, as he shook his head; “and what does it matter? In some far-off land we shall again be happy, for we shall have learnt our lesson.”

And before the sisters had time to speak, he had disappeared; only the same little rustle among the bushes was to be heard for a moment or two. Then all was silent, till a faint “tu-whit – ” from an owl waking up in the distance, and the first glimmer of the moonlight among the branches, warned Arminel and Chloe that it was time for them to be turning homewards.