Chimney sweeps -- Juvenile fiction; Fairy tales -- England
Which was quite natural; for you must know and believe that people's
souls make their bodies just as a snail makes its shell (I am not
joking, my little man; I am in serious, solemn earnest). And therefore,
when Tom's soul grew all prickly with naughty tempers, his body could
not help growing prickly too, so that nobody would cuddle him, or play
with him, or even like to look at him.
What could Tom do now but go away and hide in a corner and cry? For
nobody would play with him, and he knew full well why.
And he was so miserable all that week that when the ugly fairy came and
looked at him once more full in the face, more seriously and sadly than
ever, he could stand it no longer, and thrust the sweetmeats away,
saying, "No, I don't want any: I can't bear them now," and then burst
out crying, poor little man, and told Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid every word
as it happened.
He was horribly frightened when he had done so; for he expected her to
punish him very severely. But, instead, she only took him up and kissed
him, which was not quite pleasant, for her chin was very bristly indeed;
but he was so lonely-hearted, he thought that rough kissing was better
than none.
"I will forgive you, little man," she said. "I always forgive every one
the moment they tell me the truth of their own accord."
"Then you will take away all these nasty prickles?"
"That is a very different matter. You put them there yourself, and only
you can take them away."
"But how can I do that?" asked Tom, crying afresh.
"Well, I think it is time for you to go to school; so I shall fetch you
a schoolmistress, who will teach you how to get rid of your prickles."
And so she went away. Tom was frightened at the notion of a
schoolmistress; for he thought she would certainly come with a birch-rod
or a cane; but he comforted himself, at last, that she might be
something like the old woman in Vendale--which she was not in the
least; for, when the fairy brought her, she was the most beautiful
little girl that ever was seen, with long curls floating behind her like
a golden cloud, and long robes floating all round her like a silver one.
"There he is," said the fairy; "and you must teach him to be good,
whether you like or not."
"I know," said the little girl; but she did not seem quite to like, for
she put her finger in her mouth, and looked at Tom under her brows; and
Tom put his finger in his mouth, and looked at her under his brows, for
he was horribly ashamed of himself.
The little girl seemed hardly to know how to begin; and perhaps she
would never have begun at all if poor Tom had not burst out crying, and
begged her to teach him to be good and help him to cure his prickles;
and at that she grew so tender-hearted that she began teaching him as
prettily as ever child was taught in the world.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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