So she went along the dusty road until, by-and-by, she came
to a place where a bridge crossed the brook, and what should she see
there but a little red cap, with a silver bell at the point of it,
hanging from the alder branch. It was such a nice, pretty little red cap
that Christine thought that she would take it home with her, for she had
never seen the like of it in all of her life before.
So she put it in her pocket, and then off she went with her geese again.
But she had hardly gone two-score of paces when she heard a voice
calling her, "Christine! Christine!"
She looked, and who should she see but a queer little gray man, with a
great head as big as a cabbage and little legs as thin as young
radishes.
"What do you want?" said Christine, when the little man had come to
where she was.
Oh, the little man only wanted his cap again, for without it he could
not go back home into the hill--that was where he belonged.
But how did the cap come to be hanging from the bush? Yes, Christine
would like to know that before she gave it back again.
[Illustration: The little man asks far his cap.]
Well, the little hill-man was fishing by the brook over yonder when a
puff of wind blew his cap into the water, and he just hung it up to dry.
That was all that there was about it; and now would Christine please
give it to him?
Christine did not know how about that; perhaps she would and perhaps she
would not.
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