voice. "Only come to the door, and you can see me. I have something to tell you that will make you happy. Please do come!" Freyo set down his work and hobbled to the door.

"It is I, the Apple Tree," spoke the voice again; "come nearer that I may talk to you. You have always been kind to me, when Dame Grumble has abused me, Freyo, and now I shall reward you."

Freyo made his way to the Apple Tree, and she continued: "Do you see my two stoutest branches quite close to the ground? These I mean to give you for crutches."

"Oh, Apple Tree!" cried Freyo. "I would not cut off your branches! I would not give you such pain."

"But cutting off these two branches of mine will cause me no great pain," the Apple Tree insisted. "They are over-heavy, and next spring when the North Wind blows, I fear that he will snap them off. What the North Wind cannot bend he will break, as well you know. When you have made your crutches, you may go to the forest and gather more wood for your work of wood carving, until you have the store that you desire."

At last Freyo was persuaded. The branches were cut, and all day long he sat beneath the Apple Tree, while he fashioned a pair of crutches. By evening they were finished, and when he slept that night, Freyo dreamed of wandering in the greenwood; he had never yet been so far from the cottage door.

"How well you have done!" exclaimed the Apple Tree next morning, when Freyo stepped out briskly on his crutches.

"And you too have done well," replied the lad. "I see two tufts of green leaves already at work to cover the places where I cut your branches." He waved farewell to the Apple Tree and set upon his way. Freyo was gone the whole day long. When the sun set that evening, he had not returned, and even when the moon rose slowly, still he did not come. The Apple Tree began to worry and to fret lest her branches had not proved strong enough for crutches. Then presently she saw Freyo with a heavy pannier strapped upon his back; but not one bit of oak or walnut wood had he.

"Ah, Apple Tree!" cried he, "never in my life have I been happy as I was to-day. Only to wander beneath the trees and see the blue forget-me-nots that make a lovely carpet underfoot, or to hear the birds sing sweetly was like paradise. I wished the whole world were one great forest, and that the time were always spring. I could not bear to come away!"

"But Freyo," said the Apple Tree, "you have brought nothing for your work! How will you make chests and clock-cases?"

"I could not find it in my heart to cut the smallest twig," confessed the lad. "The trees looked all so beautiful and stately that it seemed to me a shame. Instead I gathered brown bells and forget-me-nots to plant about your roots. I am sure you must be lonely in this bare wind-swept spot, and they will serve for company."

"Now that was kind," replied the Apple Tree, "but you must now give heed to what I say. In the forest there are many trees that will gladly give you a fine branch or two. When next you go there, tell them that you are the friend of the Apple Tree whose blossoms fall to earth with a chinking sound, like small coins in children's banks. Then they will know you and will be generous as I have been. Besides, I warn you that at the first approach of winter, Dame Grumble will return. She will be crosser than ever, for she will never find the fortune in pennies that she seeks. Now be advised, Freyo, and gather a goodly store of oak and walnut while you may."

When Freyo went again to the forest, he told the message of the Apple Tree to the tall pines and low bending oaks, and to shady maples too. These trees all gave him such a bounteous supply of boughs and branches that Freyo soon had store to last him for his carving a whole year or more.

'T was well he had. One day as he sat working beneath the Apple Tree, he noticed that the leaves fell fast and that the wind blew chill. Another morning, when the maples on the hillsides flamed like fire, Freyo heard a shrill familiar voice borne on the air, and presently Dame Grumble herself appeared before the cottage door.

Now, as the Apple Tree had foretold, Dame Grumble was crosser than ever. She had not found the fortune in pennies she had sought, and she was out of humor with her journey. She vowed she had not had one pleasant moment from the time she had set out; she said that she had longed unceasingly for her little cottage. Dame Grumble solemnly declared that she had done with journeys forevermore and looked forward to great happiness, now that she was home at last. She praised Freyo's housekeeping and said the cottage looked as tidy as a pin. When she had laid aside her bonnet and shawl, she began to make a fine supper for him.

"How nice that you have crutches, my son, and can get about so well!" she cried with pleasure.

"Are they not a blessing, Mother?" asked Freyo. "They are not bad for a poor lad who never before had seen a crutch, but made them just as best he knew."

Dame Grumble continued to praise the crutches and to admire them until she learned that they were made from branches of the Apple Tree. Then she was furious; her anger knew no bounds. She rushed out to the Apple Tree and shook it with all her might. Then she ran in to throw the crutches in the fire, but this Freyo would not permit.

"The Apple Tree herself gave me her branches, Mother," said he, "and the crutches are mine."

"Give them to me at once, I say!" stormed Dame Grumble. "The Apple Tree is mine, and consequently her branches are mine also. I must punish you for this disobedience. Do you not know that I prize the Apple Tree above all else on earth? Do I not expect a harvest of golden apples from it some day? Now when that day is come, I shall not have nearly so many, because of your wickedness. Why did you cut as much as a twig from the Apple Tree?"

"Mother," answered Freyo, "if there be any harm done, it is done. To burn the crutches will not make the branches grow upon the Apple Tree again." Dame Grumble first commanded and then entreated that her son give her the crutches to burn, but Freyo was firm. At last she burst into tears.

"Oh! Oh!" she sobbed. "It is not enough that I have had many troubles and cares in the past; each year my wicked enemy, the North Wind, steals a fortune in pennies from me! And now added to this I must suffer disobedience from my own ungrateful son." She sobbed and wailed until Freyo was nearly distracted.

"Oh, Mother!" he begged. "If you would only cease your weeping and look at these wonderful things I have made in your absence. Here is a clock-case with the four seasons carved upon it. The hours are told by twelve lovely nymphs dancing through the forest; it is a treasure worthy of a king. Some day a duke may come a-riding by and fancy it—then, who knows—my fortune may be made, and I would give it all to you, Mother."

In spite of all his pleadings, however, Dame Grumble would not look at his treasures. She was so deep in her woes that she could think of nothing else. She would not touch a crumb of supper but said mournfully that she had no heart for either food or drink.

Freyo sat before the fire, sad and desolate. With the scolding dame's return, the quiet and contentment of the little cottage had fled. "Ah," sighed the poor lad, "I have no doubt that Mother is right; perhaps I am wicked and ungrateful after all."

II

During the winter that followed, Dame Grumble led her son a dreadful life. He could no longer talk to his good friend, the Apple Tree, for she was sleeping her deep winter's sleep and would