found a
parsnip-root that looked exactly like a little man. It had a regular
head of its own, with a long nose, its body was short, and it had two
shrivelled stringy little legs; arms it had none.

"That's a little Parsnip-man," said his mother, when Peter showed it to
her.

"A Parsnip-man?" muttered Peter below his breath, and he gazed
doubtfully at the odd-looking root in his hand.

It seemed to him that the little man was smiling at him; but with a very
ugly kind of smile.

Suddenly the stove gave such a loud crack, that Peter let the parsnip
fall out of his hands with a start.

"What's the matter?" asked his mother, as Peter buried his face in her
arms; for he began to feel frightened.

"The little Parsnip-man grinned so nastily at me, and such a loud noise
came out of the stove--and I let him fall!" His mother laughed at him.

"You've been dreaming," said she. "The little man could not smile if he
tried. The Parsnip-mannikins are only roots in the day-time, you know.
It is at midnight, when you have long, long been asleep, and the church
clock strikes twelve, that they come to life. Then away they all go to
the great cave where the queen dwells in state, and here they hold high
festival. There they dance, sing, play, and eat out of golden dishes.
But as soon as the clock strikes one, all is over, and the Parsnip-men
are only roots once more.

"But you've fallen asleep," she added. "Come, my child, and I'll put you
to bed. You are tired, are you not?"

"Yes, I'll go to bed," said little Peter, rubbing his drowsy eyes. So
his mother took him into the bedroom and lighted the rushlight. Then she
undressed him and put him to bed. And Peter had hardly touched the
pillow before he was fast asleep.

But the mother went back to the kitchen-table, and seated herself once
more by the light of the dimly-burning lamp. The parsnips were all cut
up long ago. She put the dish aside and began to sew. Now and then she
paused in her work to lean back in her chair, and tears welled up in her
eyes. Perhaps she remembered that the rent was due, or she may have been
reflecting that Peter's jacket was past further patching. In either case
she began to count over in her mind a certain small stock of savings
which she had laid by in a money-box, and to puzzle her poor head what
she should turn her hand to next to earn the wherewithal to buy the boy
some decent clothes. Nothing likely suggested itself, however, and with
a heavy