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“Not quite,” said old Peter; “but the tale won’t go any quicker than my old tongue.”

In the morning the old woman had forgotten about her promise. And just from habit, she set about scolding the old man as if the whips had never jumped out of the whistle. She scolded him for sleeping too long, sent him upstairs, with a lot of cross words after him, to go to the top of the dovecot to see how those turnips were getting on.

After a little the old man came down.

“The turnips are coming on grandly,” says he, “and not a single one has gone in the night. I told you the children said they would not steal any more.”

“I don’t believe you,” said the old woman. “I’ll see for myself. And if any are gone, you shall pay for it, and pay for it well.”

Up she jumped, and tried to climb the stairs. But the stairs were narrow and steep and twisting. She tried and tried, and could not get up at all. So she gets angrier than ever, and starts scolding the old man again.

“You must carry me up,” says she.

“I have to hold on with both hands, or I couldn’t get up myself,” says the old man.

“I’ll get in the flour sack, and you must carry me up with your teeth,” says she; “they’re strong enough.”

And the old woman got into the flour sack.

“Don’t ask me any questions,” says the old man; and he took the sack in his teeth and began slowly climbing up the stairs, holding on with both hands.

He climbed and climbed, but he did not climb fast enough for the old woman.

“Are we at the top?” says she.

The old man said nothing, but went on, climbing up and up, nearly dead with the weight of the old woman in the sack which he was holding in his teeth.

He climbed a little further, and the old woman screamed out,–

“Are we at the top now? We must be at the top. Let me out, you old fool!”

The old man said nothing; he climbed on and on.

The old woman raged in the flour sack. She jumped about in the sack, and screamed at the old man,–

“Are we near the top now? Answer me, can’t you! Answer me at once, or you’ll pay for it later. Are we near the top?”

“Very near,” said the old man.

And as he opened his mouth to say that the sack slipped from between his teeth, and bump, bump, bumpety bump, the old woman in the sack fell all the way to the very bottom, bumping on every step. That was the end of her.

After that the old man lived alone in the hut. When he wanted tobacco or clothes or a new axe, he made the goat sneeze some gold pieces, and off he went to the town with plenty of money in his pocket. When he wanted his dinner he had only to lay the tablecloth. He never had any washing up to do, because the tablecloth did it for him. When he wanted to get rid of troublesome guests, he gave them the whistle to blow. And when he was lonely and wanted company, he went to the little hut under the pine trees and played with the little queer children.