astonishing, and its voice was high and piping like the twittering of a little bird. Tom touched his hat, and tried to think what he ought to say.

“Hoots!” the thing exclaimed, “you needn’t be afraid of me. You have done me a good turn, and I’ll do as much for you.”

Tom couldn’t speak yet, but he thought, “Lord! for sure it’s a bogle!”

The creature seemed to know what passed in Tom’s mind, for it instantly said: “I’m no bogle, but you’d better not ask what I am. Anyhow, I am a good friend of yours.”

Tom’s knees smote together with terror. Certainly an ordinary body couldn’t have known what he had been thinking, but the thing looked so kind and spoke so fair, that he made bold to say in a quavering voice, “Might I be asking to know your honor’s name?”

“H’m!” the creature said, pulling its beard, “as for that, you may call me Yallery Brown. That’s the way I look as you plainly see, and ’twill do for a name as well as any other. I am your friend, Yallery Brown, my lad.”

“Thank you, master,” Tom responded meekly.

“And now,” it said, “I’m in a hurry to-night. So tell me without delay what I can do for you. Would you like a wife? I can give you the finest lass in the town. Would you like riches? I can give you as much gold as you can carry. Or would you have me help you with your work? Only say the word.”

Tom scratched his head. “I have no hankering for a wife,” he said. “Wives are bothersome bodies, and I have women folk at home who will mend my clothes. Gold is worth having, but if you could lighten my work that would suit me best of all. I can’t abide work, and I’ll thank—”

“Stop!” Yallery Brown cried, as quick as lightning, “I’ll help you and welcome, but if ever you thank me you’ll never see me more. Remember that! I’ll have no thanks”; and it stamped its tiny feet on the ground and looked as wicked as a raging bull. “Harken! you great lump!” it went on, calming down a bit. “If ever you need help, or get into trouble, call on me. Just say, ‘Yallery Brown, come from the earth, I want you!’ and I’ll be with you at once; and now, good night.”

So saying, it picked a dandelion puff and blew the winged seeds all up into Tom’s eyes and ears. When Tom could see again Yallery Brown was gone, and he would have thought he had been dreaming, were it not for the stone on end and the hole at his feet.

VI—A TROUBLESOME HELPER

Tom went home and to bed, and by morning he had nearly forgotten all about what had happened the previous evening. But when he went to start the day’s work, there was none to do. The horses had been fed, the stables cleaned, and everything put in its proper place, and he had nothing to do but stand around with his hands in his pockets.

So it was from morn till night, and so it was on the days that followed. All Tom’s work was done by Yallery Brown, and better done than Tom himself could do it. No matter how much the master gave Tom to do, he could sit down at his ease while the work did itself. The hoe, or broom, or whatever it was would get into motion with no visible hand put to it and would finish the task in no time.

Yallery Brown kept out of sight during the day, but in the gray twilight, after the sun had gone down, Tom often saw the tiny creature hopping around like a Will-of-the-Wisp without a lantern.

At first Tom found it mighty fine to be relieved of his work. He had naught to do and good pay for it; but by and by things began to go wrong. His work continued to be done, but the work of the other lads was all undone. If his buckets were filled theirs were upset; if his