" said Little One. "Is there any one else to love?"

By and by she met an old woman, bent nearly double, and picking up dry
sticks with trembling hands.

"Poor woman!" said Little One: "I am going to love you."

"Dear me!" said the old crone, dropping her sticks, and looking up
with surprise in every wrinkle: "you don't mean _me_? Why, my heart is
all dried up."

"Then you need to be loved all the more," cried Little One heartily.

The poor woman laughed; but, at the same time, brushed a tear from
her eye with the corner of her apron.

"I thought," said Little One, "I was the only unhappy one in the
world: it seemed a pity my heart should ache so much; but, oh, I would
rather have it ache than be dried up!"

"I suppose you never were beaten," said the old woman; "you were never
pelted with whizzing stones?"

"Indeed I never, never was!" replied Little One, greatly shocked by
the question.

"By your costly dress, I know you never were so poor as to be always
longing for food. Let me tell you, my good child, when one is beaten
and scolded, and feels cold all winter, and hungry all summer, it is
no wonder one's heart dries up!"

Little One threw her arms about the old woman's neck. "Let me help
you pick sticks!" said she; "you are too old for hard work; your hands
tremble too much."

Swiftly gathering up a load of fagots, she put them together in a
bundle.

"Now, how many jewels shall I give her?" thought the child. "She must
never want for food again."

"How many?" echoed the Whisper.

"Give as the morning that flows out of heaven:
Give as the free air and sunshine are given."

"Then she shall have half," said Little One in great glee. "Here, poor
woman, take these sapphires and rubies and diamonds, and never be
hungry again!"

"Heavenly child!" said the stranger, laying her wasted hand on the
sylphid's bright head, and blessing her, "it is little except thanks
that an old creature like me can give; yet may be you will not scorn
this pair of little shoes: they are strong, and, when you have to step
on the sharp mountain-rocks, they will serve you well."

Little One's delicate slippers were already much worn, and she gladly
exchanged them for the goat-skin shoes; but, strange to relate, no
sooner had she done so than she found herself flitting over rocks and
rough places with perfect ease, and at such speed, that, when she
looked back, in a moment, she had already left the old woman far
behi