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Page 57
And this was how it came about that Amelia had to wash her dirty
frocks. Let any little girl try to wash one of her dresses; not to half
wash it, not to leave it stained with dirty water, but to wash it quite
clean. Let her then try to starch and iron it--in short, to make it
look as if it had come from the laundress--and she will have some idea
of what poor Amelia had to learn to do. There was no help for it. When
she was working she very seldom saw the dwarfs; but if she were idle or
stubborn, or had any hopes of getting away, one was sure to start up at
her elbow and pinch her funny-bone, or poke her in the ribs, till she
did her best. Her back ached with stooping over the wash-tub; her hands
and arms grew wrinkled with soaking in hot soapsuds, and sore with
rubbing. Whatever she did not know how to do, the woman of the heath
taught her. At first, whilst Amelia was sulky, the woman of the heath
was sharp and cross; but when Amelia became willing and obedient, she
was good-natured, and even helped her.
The first time that Amelia felt hungry she asked for some food.
"By all means," said one of the dwarfs; "there is plenty down here
which belongs to you;" and he led her away till they came to a place
like the first, except that it was covered with plates of broken meats;
all the bits of good meat, pie, pudding, bread-and-butter, &c., that
Amelia had wasted beforetime.
"I can't eat cold scraps like these," said Amelia, turning away.
"Then what did you ask for food for before you were hungry?" screamed
the dwarf, and he pinched her and sent her about her business.
After a while she became so famished that she was glad to beg humbly to
be allowed to go for food; and she ate a cold chop and the remains of a
rice pudding with thankfulness. How delicious they tasted! She was
surprised herself at the good things she had rejected. After a time she
fancied she would like to warm up some of the cold meat in a pan, which
the woman of the heath used to cook her own dinner in, and she asked
for leave to do so.
"You may do anything you like to make yourself comfortable, if you do
it yourself," said she; and Amelia, who had been watching her for many
times, became quite expert in cooking up the scraps.
As there was no real daylight underground, so also there was no night.
When the old woman was tired she lay down and had a nap, and when she
thought that Amelia had earned a rest, she allowed her to do the same.
It was never cold, and it never rained, so they slept on the heath
among the flowers.
They say that "It's a long lane that has no turning," and the hardest
tasks come to an end some time, and Amelia's dresses were clean at
last; but then a more wearisome work was before her. They had to be
mended. Amelia looked at the jagged rents made by the hedges; the great
gaping holes in front where she had put her foot through; the torn
tucks and gathers. First she wept, then she bitterly regretted that she
had so often refused to do her sewing at home that she was very awkward
with her needle. Whether she ever would have got through this task
alone is doubtful, but she had by this time become so well-behaved and
willing that the old woman was kind to her, and, pitying her blundering
attempts, she helped her a great deal; whilst Amelia would cook the old
woman's victuals, or repeat stories and pieces of poetry to amuse her.
"How glad I am that I ever learnt anything!" thought the poor child:
"everything one learns seems to come in useful some time."
At last the dresses were finished.
"Do you think I shall be allowed to go home now?" Amelia asked of the
woman of the heath.
"Not yet," said she; "you have got to mend the broken gimcracks next."
"But when I have done all my tasks," Amelia said; "will they let me go
then?"
"That depends," said the woman, and she sat silent over the fire; but
Amelia wept so bitterly, that she pitied her and said--"Only dry your
eyes, for the fairies hate tears, and I will tell you all I know and do
the best for you I can. You see, when you first came you were--excuse
me!--such an unlicked cub; such a peevish, selfish, wilful, useless,
and ill-mannered little miss, that neither the fairies nor anybody else
were likely to keep you any longer than necessary. But now you are such
a willing, handy, and civil little thing, and so pretty and graceful
withal, that I think it is very likely that they will want to keep you
altogether. I think you had better make up your mind to it. They are
kindly little folk, and will make a pet of you in the end."
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