, one of his men came in hastily, crying, "Master!
master! has not the little water-maid given you notice, as she always
did to my old master? She and her company are having their large wash
and have been emptying their water-tubs. Hark! how the stream roars and
rages! and the wheel turns as if driven by a hurricane! The sky is
clear, there has been no rain, yet look at the rushing torrent."

The miller, alarmed, looked out of the window. His face became red with
anger, and he said, "What did I know about the water-witch, and her
abominable washing-day? Spiteful, mischievous hag!"

In an hour or two the stream resumed its usual course, and subsided to
its former level; but the wheels and works of the mill were damaged,
and the miller suffered from the expense of repairs, and from the delay
it occasioned.

After some time the mill went on clacking and grinding corn as well as
ever, when one day the miller stood looking at his meadow, thinking to
himself, "The grass looks very green, and the weather is very fine; this
meadow must be mown to-morrow."

As he thus stood and looked, two airy figures like young girls appeared,
so transparent that the miller fancied that he could see the grass
through them as they floated over it, and a gentle voice said, "Good day
to you, miller! We beg that thou wilt allow us to dance this evening
upon this meadow."

Though much astonished, the miller quickly replied in a cross tone,
"How! dance upon my meadow! tread down my grass!"

The voice answered "We will not do thy grass any harm; we and our
friends dance so lightly that we hardly touch the tips, of thy long
grass."

The miller replied sharply, "Why then ask me? If you do not trample my
grass, you may dance all the year round for all me."

"Thank you," replied the airy creature; "we only beg, for thy own good,
that thou wilt not mow thy grass until a shower of rain has wet it after
our dance. Remember this."

They then vanished like a thin vapor.

"Foolish people!" cried the miller; "did I ever hear such nonsense? Must
I put off my hay-making till it rains? We may not have such fine dry
weather again during the summer. I shall send my men to cut it down
to-morrow." He went back to the mill and gave his orders, but said not a
word to anybody about what he had heard and seen. When Tony, the
miller's son, was going to bed that night, he looked out of the window,
and cried to his father--

"There is a strange man with a lante