slashing and banging all night.”
The butler said, “Never you trouble, I’ll put them right.” and he ran back, while she took her feathers, and said: “By virtue of my three feathers may the shutters slash and bang till morning, and John not be able to fasten them nor yet to get his fingers free from them.”
And so it was. Try as he might the butler could not leave hold, nor yet keep the shutters from blowing open as he closed them. And he was angry, but could not help himself, and he did not care to tell of it and get the laugh on him, so no one knew.
Then after a bit the coachman began to notice her, and she found he had some ?40 with the master, and he said she might have it if she would take him with it.
So after the laundry-maid had his money in her apron as they went merrily along, she stopt, exclaiming: “My clothes are left outside, I must run back and bring them in.” “Stop for me while I go; it is a cold frost night,” said William, “you’d be catching your death.” So the girl waited long enough to take her feathers out and say, “By virtue of my three feathers may the clothes slash and blow about till morning, and may William not be able to take his hand from them nor yet to gather them up.” And then she was away to bed and to sleep.
The coachman did not want to be every one’s jest, and he said nothing. So after a bit the footman comes to her and said he: “I have been with my master for years and have saved up a good bit, and you have been three years here, and must have saved up as well. Let us put it together, and make us a home or else stay on at service as pleases you.” Well, she got him to bring the savings to her as the others had, and then she pretended she was faint, and said to him: “James, I feel so queer, run down cellar for me, that’s a dear, and fetch me up a drop of brandy.” Now no sooner had he started than she said: “By virtue of my three feathers may there be slashing and spilling, and James not be able to pour the brandy straight nor yet to take his hand from it until morning.”
And so it was. Try as he might James could not get his glass filled, and there was slashing and spilling, and right on it all, down came the master to know what it meant!
So James told him he could not make it out, but he could not get the drop of brandy the laundry-maid had asked for, and his hand would shake and spill everything, and yet come away he could not.
This got him in for a regular scrape, and the master when he got back to his wife said: “What has come over the men, they were all right until that laundry-maid of yours came. Something is up now though. They have all drawn out their pay, and yet they don’t leave, and what can it be anyway?”
But his wife said she could not hear of the laundry-maid being blamed, for she was the best servant she had and worth all the rest put together.
So it went on until one day as the girl stood in the hall door, the coachman happened to say to the footman: “Do you know how that girl served me, James?” And then William told about the clothes. The butler put in, “That was nothing to what she served me,” and he told of the shutters clapping all night.
Just then the master came through the hall, and the girl said: “By virtue of my three feathers may there be slashing and striving between master and men, and may all get splashed in the pond.”
And so it was, the men fell to disputing which had suffered the most by her, and when the master came up all would be heard at once and none listened to him, and it came to blows all round, and the first they knew they had shoved one another into the pond.
When the girl thought they had had enough she took the spell off, and the master asked her what had begun the row, for he had not heard in the confusion.
And the girl said: “They were ready to fall on any one; they’d have beat me if you had not come by.”
So it blew over for that time, and through her feathers she made the best laundress ever known. But to make a long story short, when the seven years and a day were up, the bird-husband, who had known her doings all along, came after her, restored to his own shape again. And he told her mistress he had come to take her from being a servant, and that she should have servants under her. But he did not tell of the feathers.
And then he bade her give the men back their savings.
“That was a rare game you had with them,” said he, “but now you are going where there is plenty, leave them each their own.” So she did; and they drove off to their castle, where they lived happy ever after.
Sir Gammer Vans
Last Sunday morning at six o’clock in the evening as I was sailing over the tops of the mountains in my little boat, I met two men on horseback riding on one mare: So I asked them, “Could they tell me whether the little old woman was dead yet who was hanged last Saturday week for drowning herself in a shower of feathers?” They said they could not positively inform me, but if I went to Sir Gammer Vans he could tell me all about it. “But how am I to know the house?” said I. “Ho, ’t is easy enough,” said they, “for ’t is a brick house, built entirely of flints, standing alone by itself in the middle of sixty or seventy others just like it.”
“Oh, nothing in the world is easier,” said I.
“Nothing can be easier,” said they: so I went on my way.
Now this Sir G. Vans was a giant, and a bottle-maker. And as all giants who are bottle-makers usually pop out of a little thumb-bottle from behind the door, so did Sir G. Vans.
“How d’ye do?” says he.
“Very well, I thank you,” says I.
“Have some breakfast with me?”
“With all my heart,” says I.
So he gave me a slice of beer, and a cup of cold veal; and there was a little dog under the table that picked up all the crumbs.
“Hang him,” says I.
“No, don’t hang him,” says he; “for he killed a hare yesterday. And if you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the hare alive in a basket.”
So he took me into his garden to show me the curiosities. In one corner there was a fox hatching eagle’s eggs; in another there was an iron apple tree, entirely covered with pears and lead; in the third there was the hare which the dog killed yesterday alive in the basket; and in the fourth there were twenty-four hipper switches threshing tobacco, and at the sight of me they threshed so hard that they drove the plug through the wall, and through a little dog that was passing by on the other side. I, hearing the dog howl, jumped over the wall; and turned it as neatly inside out as possible, when it ran away as if it had not an hour to live. Then he took me into the park to show me his deer: and I remembered that I had a warrant in my pocket to shoot venison for his majesty’s dinner. So I set fire to my bow, poised my arrow, and shot amongst them. I broke seventeen ribs on one side, and twenty-one and a half on the other; but my arrow passed clean through without ever touching it, and the worst was I lost my arrow: however, I found it again in the hollow of a tree. I felt it; it felt clammy. I smelt it; it smelt honey. “Oh, ho,” said I, “here’s a bee’s nest,” when out sprang a covey of partridges. I shot at them; some say I killed eighteen; but I am sure I killed thirty-six, besides a dead salmon which was flying over the bridge, of which I made the best apple-pie I ever tasted.
Tom Hickathrift
