ter," said Fairfeather; "but my husband has a
brother there, and we left our moorland village to try our fortune also.
An old woman at the entrance to this forest, by means of fair words, got
us to take some strong drink, which caused us to fall asleep and dream
of great things. But when we woke, everything had been robbed from
us--my looking-glass, my scarlet cloak, my husband's Sunday coat; and,
in place of all, the robbers left him that old doublet, which he has
worn ever since, and he never was so merry in all his life, though we
live in this poor hut."

"It is a shabby doublet, that," said Spare, taking up the garment, and
seeing that it was his own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its
lining. "It would be good for hunting in, however--your husband would be
glad to part with it, I dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak;"
and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned on the doublet, much to
Fairfeather's delight, who ran and shook Scrub, crying: "Husband,
husband, rise and see what a good bargain I have made!"

Scrub gave one last snore, and muttered something about the root being
hard. But he rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother and said:

"Spare, is that really you? How did you like the Court, and have you
made your fortune?"

"That I have, brother," said Spare, "in getting back my own good
leathern doublet. Come, let us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this
night. In the morning we will return to our own old hut, at the end of
the moorland village, where the Christmas Cuckoo will come and bring us
leaves."

Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the morning they all returned, and
found the old hut little the worse for wear and weather. The people of
the village came about them to ask the news of Court, and see if they
had made their fortune. Everybody was surprised to find the three poorer
than ever, but somehow they liked to go to the hut. Spare brought out
the lasts and awls he had hidden in the corner. Scrub and he began their
old trade again, and the whole north country found out that there never
were such cobblers.

They mended the shoes of lords and ladies as well as the common people;
everybody was well pleased with the work. Their trade grew greater from
day to day, and all that were discontented or unlucky came to the hut as
in old times, before Spare went to the Court.

The rich brought them presents, the poor did them service. The hut
itself changed, no one knew how. Floweri