wept so many that he
got tired, and puzzled too, for they ran into one another so that he
fairly lost his way in them. At last he came down. But it was the wrong
chimney, and he found himself in a room the like of which he had never
seen before. The room was all dressed in white: white window-curtains,
white bed-curtains, white furniture, and white walls. There was a
washhand-stand, with ewers and basins, and soap and brushes and towels;
and a large bath full of clean water. What a heap of things--all for
washing!

And then he happened to look towards the bed, and there lay the most
beautiful little girl Tom had ever seen. He wondered whether all people
were as white as she when they were washed. Thinking of this, he tried
to rub some of the soot from his own wrist, and thought, perhaps, he
might look better himself if he were clean.

And looking round, he suddenly saw a little ugly black figure with
bleared eyes and grinning teeth. And behold, it was himself reflected in
the mirror. With tears of shame and anger at the contrast he turned to
sneak up the chimney and hide. But in his haste he upset the fire-irons.

Up jumped the little white lady with a scream; in rushed her nurse and
made a dash at Tom. But out of the window went he and down a tree and
away through the garden and the park into the wood beyond, with the
gardener, the groom, the dairymaid, Grimes, the steward, the keeper, Sir
John, and the Irishwoman all in hot pursuit.

Through the wood rushed Tom until he came to a wall, where his quick
wits enabled him to evade his pursuers--except the Irishwoman, who
followed him all the way, although he never knew.

At length he stood on a limestone rock which overhung a valley a
thousand feet below, and down there he could see a little stream winding
in and out, and by the stream a cottage. It was a dangerous descent, but
down went Tom without a moment's hesitation; sick and giddy, on he went
until at last he dropped on the grass and lay there unconscious. But
after a time he roused himself and stumbled on to the cottage.

The old dame of the cottage took pity on him and laid him on a bed of
sweet hay. But Tom could not rest, and think of the little white lady,
he found his way to the river murmuring. "I must be clean! I must be
clean!"

And still he had not seen the Irishwoman; in front of him now, for she
had stepped into the river just before Tom, and had changed into the
most beautiful of fairies underne