ing young
lady leave the path and come tripping across the furrows toward
him. Her face was well painted, [37] and she had altogether such a
refined look that Ma concluded she must have lost her way, and began
to make some playful remarks in consequence. "You go along home,"
cried the young lady, "and I'll be with you by and by." Ma doubted
this rather extraordinary promise, but she vowed and declared she
would not break her word; and then Ma went off, telling her that his
front door faced the north, etc. At midnight the young lady arrived,
and then Ma saw that her hands and face were covered with fine hair,
which made him suspect at once that she was a fox. She did not deny the
accusation; and accordingly Ma said to her, "If you really are one of
those wonderful creatures you will be able to get me anything I want;
and I should be much obliged if you would begin by giving me some
money to relieve my poverty." The young lady said she would; and next
evening, when she came again, Ma asked her where the money was. "Dear
me!" replied she, "I quite forgot it." When she was going away Ma
reminded her of what he wanted, but on the following evening she made
precisely the same excuse, promising to bring it another day. A few
nights afterward Ma asked her once more for the money, and then she
drew from her sleeve two pieces of silver, each weighing about five
or six ounces. They were both of fine quality, with turned-up edges,
[38] and Ma was very pleased, and stored them away in a cupboard. Some
months after this he happened to require some money for use, and took
out these pieces; but the person to whom he showed them said they
were only pewter, and easily bit off a portion of one of them with
his teeth. Ma was much alarmed, and put the pieces away directly,
taking the opportunity when evening came of abusing the young lady
roundly. "It's all your bad luck," retorted she. "Real gold would be
too much for your inferior destiny." There was an end of that; but Ma
went on to say, "I always heard that fox-girls were of surpassing
beauty; how is it you are not?" "Oh," replied the young lady,
"we always adapt ourselves to our company. Now you haven't the luck
of an ounce of silver to call your own; and what would you do, for
instance, with a beautiful princess? My beauty may not be good enough
for the aristocracy; but among your big-footed, bent-backed rustics,
[39] why, it may safely be called 'surpassing'!"

A few months passed a