X + 

The Old Woman and Her Hen + 

Now Colin had got the better of these fairies once, not by his own skill, but by the help that other powers had afforded him. What were those powers? First the old woman on the heath. Indeed, he might attribute it all to her. He would go back to Scotland and look for her and find her. But the old woman was never found except by the seeker losing himself. It could not be done otherwise. She would cease to be the old woman, and become her own hen, if ever the moment arrived when anyone found her without losing himself. And Colin since that time had wandered so much all over the moor, wide as it was, that lay above his father’s cottage, that he did not believe he was able to lose himself there any more. He had yet to learn that it did not so much matter where he lost himself, provided only he was lost. + 

Just at this time Colin’s purse was nearly empty, and he set out to borrow the money of a friend who lived on the other side of Dartmoor. When he got there, he found that he had gone from home. Unable to rest, he set out again to return. + 

It was almost night when he started; and before he had got many miles into the moor, it was dark, for there was no moon, and it was so cloudy that he could not see the stars. He thought he knew the way quite well, but as the track even in daylight was in certain places very indistinct, it was no wonder that he strayed from it, and found that he had lost himself. The same moment that he became aware of this, he saw a light away to the left. He turned towards it and found it proceeded from a little hive-like hut, the door of which stood open. When he was within a yard or two of it, he heard a voice say⁠— + 

“Come in, Colin; I’m waiting for you.” + 

Colin obeyed at once, and found the old woman seated with her spindle and distaff, just as he had seen her when he was a boy on the moor above his father’s cottage. + 

“How do you do, mother?” he said. + 

“I am always quite well. Never ask me that question.” + 

“Well, then I won’t any more,” returned Colin. “But I thought you lived in Scotland?” + 

“I don’t live anywhere; but those that will do as I tell them, will always find me when they want me.” + 

“Do you see yet, mother?” + 

“See! I always see so well that it is not worth while to burn eyelight. So I let them go out. They were expensive.” + 

Where her eyes should have been, there was nothing but wrinkles. + 

“What do you want?” she resumed. + 

“I want my child. The fairies have got him.” + 

“I know that.” + 

“And they have taken out his eyes.” + 

“I can make him see without them.” + 

“And they’ve cut off his ears,” said Colin. + 

“He can hear without them.” + 

“And they’ve salted down his cheek and his chin.” + 

“Now I don’t believe that,” said the old woman. + 

“I heard them say so myself,” returned Colin. + 

“Those fairies are worse liars than any I know. But something must be done. Sit down and I’ll tell you a story.” + 

“There’s only nine days of the seven years left,” said Colin, in a tone of expostulation. + 

“I know that as well as you,” answered the old woman. “Therefore, I say, there is not time to be lost. Sit down and listen to my story. Here, Jenny.” + 

The hen came pacing solemnly out from under the bed. + 

“Off to the sheepshearing, Jenny, and make haste, for I must spin faster than usual. There are but nine days left.” + 

Jenny ran out at the door with her head on a level with her tail, as if the kite had been after her. In a few moments she returned with a bunch of wool, as they called it, though it was only cotton from the cottongrass that grew all about the cottage, nearly as big as herself, in her bill, and then darted away for more. The old woman fastened it on her distaff, drew out a thread to her spindle, and then began to spin. And as she spun she told her story⁠—fast, fast; and Jenny kept scampering out and in; and by the time Colin thought it must be midnight, the story was told, and seven of the nine days were over. + 

“Colin,” said the old woman, “now that you know all about it, you must set off at once.” + 

“I am ready,” answered Colin, rising. + 

“Keep on the road Jenny will show you till you come to the cobbler’s. Tell him the old woman with the distaff requests him to give you a lump of his wax.” + 

“And what am I to do with it?” + 

“The cobbler always knows what his wax is for.” + 

And with this answer, the old woman turned her face towards the fire, for, although it was summer, it was cold at night on the moor. Colin, moved by sudden curiosity, instead of walking out of the hut after Jenny, as he ought to have done, crept round by the wall, and peeped in the old woman’s face. There, instead of wrinkled blindness, he saw a pair of flashing orbs of light, which were rather reflected on the fire than had the fire reflected in them. But the same instant the hut and all that was in it vanished, he felt the cold fog of the moor blowing upon him, and fell heavily to the earth. + 