y tale is done; there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make
himself a big fur cap out of it.

BURG HILL'S ON FIRE

A CELTIC FAIRY TALE

BY ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON (ADAPTED)

Once upon a time there was a rich farmer who had a thrifty wife. She
used to go out and gather all the little bits of wool which she could
find on the hillsides, and bring them home. Then, after her family had
gone to bed, she would sit up and card the wool and spin it into yarn,
then she would weave the yarn into cloth to make garments for her
children.

But all this work made her feel very tired, so that one night, sitting
at her loom, she laid down her shuttle and cried:--

"Oh, that some one would come from far or near, from land or sea, to
help me!"

No sooner had the words left her lips than she heard some one knocking
at the door.

"Who is there?" cried she.

"Tell Quary, good housewife," answered a wee, wee voice. "Open the door
to me. As long as I have you'll get."

She opened the door and there on the threshold stood a queer, little
woman, dressed in a green gown and wearing a white cap on her head.

The good housewife was so astonished that she stood and stared at her
strange visitor; but without a word the little woman ran past her, and
seated herself at the spinning-wheel.

The good housewife shut the door, but just then she heard another knock.

"Who is there?" said she.

"Tell Quary, good housewife. Open the door to me," said another wee, wee
voice. "As long as I have you'll get."

And when she opened the door there was another queer, little woman, in a
lilac frock and a green cap, standing on the threshold.

She, too, ran into the house without waiting to say, "By your leave,"
and picking up the distaff, began to put some wool on it.

Then before the housewife could get the door shut, a funny little
manikin, with green trousers and a red cap, came running in, and
followed the tiny women into the kitchen, seized hold of a handful of
wool, and began to card it. Another wee, wee woman followed him, and
then another tiny manikin, and another, and another, until it seemed
to the good housewife that all the fairies and pixies in Scotland were
coming into her house.

The kitchen was alive with them. Some of them hung the great pot over
the fire to boil water to wash the wool that was dirty. Some teased the
clean wool, and some carded it. Some spun it into yarn, and some wove
the yarn into great webs of cl