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with stones, and calling him bad names, half way back to the cottage.

“Merrymind was glad to run the whole way for fear of him. The door was still open, and the moon was shining in; but by the fireless hearth there sat two fair maidens, all in white, spinning on silver wheels, and singing together a blithe and pleasant tune, like the larks on May-morning. Merrymind could have listened all night, but suddenly he bethought him that these must be the night-spinners, whose threads would mend his fiddle; so, stepping with reverence and good courage, he said—

“‘Honourable ladies, I pray you give a poor boy a thread to mend his fiddle-strings.’

“‘For seven times seven years,’ said the fair maidens, ‘have we spun by night in this deserted cottage, and no mortal has seen or spoken to us. Go and gather sticks through all the valley to make a fire for us on this cold hearth, and each of us will give you a thread for your pains.’

“Merrymind took his broken fiddle with him, and went through all the valley gathering sticks by the moonlight; but so careful were the people of Dame Dreary’s land, that scarce a stick could be found, and the moon was gone, and the misty day had come before he was able to come back with a