old woman, quite
unknown to her, drawing out the thread as she basked in the sun. There
was nothing very remarkable in her appearance, except the length and
thickness of her lips, only she was seated on a self-bored stone. The
girl rose, went to the good dame, and gave her a friendly greeting, but
could not help inquiring "What makes you so long lipped?"

"Spinning thread, my hinnie," said the old woman, pleased with her. "I
wet my fingers with my lips, as I draw the thread from the distaff."

"Ah!" said the girl, "I should be spinning too, but it's all to no
purpose. I shall ne'er do my task:" on which the old woman proposed to
do it for her. Overjoyed, the maiden ran to fetch her lint, and placed
it in her new friend's hand, asking where she should call for the yarn
in the evening; but she received no reply; the old woman passed away
from her among the trees and bushes. The girl, much bewildered, wandered
about a little, sat down to rest, and finally fell asleep by the little
knoll.

When she awoke she was surprised to find that it was evening. Causleen,
the evening star, was beaming with silvery light, soon to be lost in the
moon's splendour. While watching these changes, the maiden was startled
by the sound of an uncouth voice, which seemed to issue from below the
self-bored stone, close beside her. She laid her ear to the stone and
heard the words: "Hurry up, Scantlie Mab, for I've promised the yarn and
Habetrot always keeps her promise." Then looking down the hole saw her
friend, the old dame, walking backwards and forwards in a deep cavern
among a group of spinsters all seated on colludie stones, and busy with
distaff and spindle. An ugly company they were, with lips more or less
disfigured, like old Habetrot's. Another of the sisterhood, who sat in a
distant corner reeling the yarn, was marked, in addition, by grey eyes,
which seemed starting from her head, and a long hooked nose.

While the girl was still watching, she heard Habetrot address this dame
by the name of Scantlie Mab, and say, "Bundle up the yarn, it is time
the young lassie should give it to her mother." Delighted to hear this,
the girl got up and returned homewards. Habetrot soon overtook her, and
placed the yarn in her hands. "Oh, what can I do for ye in return?"
exclaimed she, in delight. "Nothing--nothing," replied the dame; "but
dinna tell your mother who spun the yarn."

Scarcely believing her eyes, the girl went home, where she found he