owl of
butter-milk lying spilt upon the floor.

"Take me out! Take me out! It gives me the toothache!" wailed the
Troll, but the Bride's mother was a wise woman, and determined that
now she had caught their tormentor she would keep him safely.

[Illustration: "TAKE ME OUT! TAKE ME OUT! IT GIVES ME THE
TOOTH-ACHE!"]

"I've got the toothache in every joint!" shouted Terli. "Let me out,
and I'll _never_ tease you any more."

"It serves you very well right," said the old woman, and she poured
the contents of the tub--including Terli--into a large bucket, and
carried it off in triumph to the Church Fountain.

Here she emptied the bucket into the carved stone basin, and left
Terli kicking and screaming, while she went home to the farmhouse to
breakfast.

"That's a good morning's work, wife; if you never do another:" said
the Bride's father, who had come into the kitchen just as Terli upset
the bowl of butter-milk, and fell through the pine branches headlong
into the tub beneath. "We shall live in peace and quietness now, for
Terli was the most mischievous of the whole of the Troll-folk."

The words of the Bride's father proved to be quite true, for after the
capture of the Water-Troll the village enjoyed many years of quietness
and contentment.

As to Terli, he lived in great unhappiness in the Church Fountain;
enduring a terrible series of tooth-aches, but unable to escape from
the magic power of the water.

At the end of that time, however, a falling tree split the sides of
the carved stone basin into fragments, and the Troll, escaping with
the water which flowed out, darted from the Churchyard and safely
reached his old home in the bed of the mountain torrent.

"The Church Fountain is broken, and Terli has escaped," said the good
folks the next morning--and the old people shook their heads gravely,
in alarm--but I suppose Terli had had a good lesson, for he never
troubled the village any more.

[Illustration: The troll]

THE IMP IN THE CHINTZ CURTAIN.

He was a wicked-looking Imp, and he lived in a bed curtain.

No one knew he was in the house, not even the master and mistress. The
little girl who slept in the chintz-curtained bed was the only person
who knew of his existence, and she never mentioned him, even to her
old nurse.

She had made his acquaintance one Christmas Eve, as she lay awake,
trying to keep her tired eyes open long enough to see Santa Klaus come
down the chimney. The Imp sprang