CHAPTER V.

HOW TOM THUMB BECAME FROLICSOME AND TRICKSY.

HEN Tom Thumb was thus arrayed he began to go forth for his pleasure, though his mother still had her fears, and when he went with her a milking, she tied him to a thistle with a piece of flax that he might not be blown away. 22

Unluckily one of the

cows, not knowing his oak-leaf hat from the green herbs around, swept him, thistle and all, into her mouth, where he had much ado to skip about so as to keep himself from being swallowed at once, calling loudly all the time, "Mother, mother!"

"Where are you, my darling?" cried she.

"Here, mother, in the red cow's mouth," he answered in a lamentable voice; whereupon his mother began to weep and

bemoan herself, and the cow

was so frightened at the out-
cry,
that she let her strange
mouthful fall on the grass,

where his mother caught
him up and safely carried
him home.

Anon he fell into company with the other boys of the village, who at first thought it a mere joke that the little fellow should join their sports, but soon found him so quick and adroit as to be fairly a match for them. In those days,

cherry stones served the country lads for marbles, and Tom much delighted in such games; but he was wont to play too shrewdly, for when he had lost his own stock of stones, he would creep into the other boys' bags and steal theirs; when, crawling forth again, he would offer to play another match, highly pleased with his own sharpness.

The poor boys were much vexed at the strange loss of their cherry stones, but their grief only diverted the young rogue,

until one, cleverer than the rest, marking him narrowly, espied him coming forth between the folds, a stone under each arm.23

"I've caught you!" he cried; "I have you at your tricks! I'll teach you to be a thief!" and before Tom could escape, he drew the strings of the bag so as to catch him round the neck, and then soundly shook the bag, so that all the stones came bumping against the poor little culprit, and bruised him sadly. He cried aloud for mercy; and the boy, who only sought to give him a lesson, released him on his promising never to do the like again. Much hurt, Tom hobbled home, but the pain did not vex him half so much as that, at sunset, he heard a voice laughing in his ear, “Ho! ho! ho! Tom Thumb thought himself another Puck!"

He came home, crying bitterly, and could not hide what had befallen him. His mother pitied him, but his father was greatly displeased, and took him to task for his thievery, so gravely, that Tom cried with sorrow, as well as with pain and shame.

"If once you learn to follow elvish tricks, and to seek after the spiteful Puck, you will be lost to us for ever,” said his father, and Tom made many promises.

He was unwilling to play again with the village lads, lest they should remember his disgrace, and he stayed at home, and behaved very well for some days, except that now and then he would steal to the window at night, to look out and wonder what the fairies were doing. The more his mother dreaded

them, the more he had a strange longing after their revels and

their tricks.

One day, his old aunt came to visit his mother. There was little love between her and Tom; she still called him a changeling, and disliked the very sight of him, and he never longed so much to play a sly turn to any one, as to that old woman.

His mother began to stir something in a bowl, and bade him sit still in an egg-shell, and peel off the inner skin to serve for sheets for his bed; but Tom suspected that this was only to keep him out of mischief, and became more restless and anxious to do some strange feat.

It came over him how he had heard that Puck would leap into a bowl of ale, in the likeness of a roasted crab apple, and full in the midst of the talk around the fire,24 would bob against the lips of an old woman, and spill all her hoped for draught of good ale. He did not know that for this, even Puck had no power, unless she were backbiting her neighbours; fairies have no might to injure such as speak nothing but kindliness. more and more did the fancy creep on him, of startling the grave old puckered face that was bent over the fire, and seeing how it would look when the ale was spilt on the stiff white muffler.

And

At last, he gave himself up to the desire, and while his mother's back was turned, he contrived to climb up to the edge of the bowl. But, behold! it was too slippery for him to keep his foothold, and down he plunged, not as he thought

into a sea of good stout ale, where he might swim and dive, but into a mere swamp of batter. Over head and ears he fell; the mixture filled his mouth and eyes, and he could not even scream, as down he sank to the bottom. The pot on the fire boiled over, his mother took up the bowl, poured out the batter, and set it over the fire. There was poor Tom in miserable plight, and he began to kick and plunge with all his might, making a marvellous whirling in the caldron.

Up sprang the aunt. "The pudding is bewitched!" she cried. "That is what it is to breed up a changeling imp!" and she seized hold of the pot, and ran outside the door with it. She would have thrown it into the running stream, but espying a tinker coming along the road, "Here, good man,” said she, "here is an alms for you."

The tinker wondered, but the offer was too good to be refused; so he opened his wallet, she popped in the pudding, and as he trudged on, she laughed,25 wished him good speed; and as she cast her eye round the kitchen, and saw no Tom, it may be that she had a shrewd notion that she had freed the house of the little elf.

Poor Tom! he had been caught in his own snare, and dreadfully frightened at finding himself being borne away from his own home, he knew not whither. He contrived at last to get to the side of the bag, where he could breathe a little air, and opening his mouth, he roared with his utmost strength. The tinker, who knew that honest puddings were not so freely given.