Round Valley
They called it Round Valley because it really was round, hemmed in by very high hills, except on the west; here there was an opening through the hills, down the middle of which flowed a mill stream which drained the valley. Part way down the gap between the hills was a mill dam; and a short distance below the dam was the mill. The miller was a little Gnome who lived in the mill with his wife and daughter. The mother had once been beautiful, but hard work had made her old before her time. Her face was wrinkled; there werecrow’s feet in the corners of her eyes; her steps were slow and feeble and her hair was growing gray.
The daughter was a very beautiful and charming girl; she was happy-hearted. She moved around quickly, helping her mother wash the dishes, sweep the floor, put wood on the fire, take up the ashes, milk the cow and feed the pigs and chickens. As she did these things she often smiled, and anyone who took the trouble to watch her could easily see that she had happy thoughts.
There were many Little People living in this valley. You seldom saw them but often heard them. In one place below the mill the water fell over some rocks, and here, if you listened, you could hear some of them saying: “Urgle, urgle, urgle,” just as plain!
Some lived in the branches of the pines and cooed: “Whoo, whoo, whoo,” and others called from the dry grass: “z-z-z.” Everywhere their voices could be heard, but very soft and low—for they were Little People.
Every day the Gnome worked in the mill—pouring grain into the hopper, tying up the bags of flour and writing in a big book in one corner of the mill. His clothes were always full of flour, and though he banged them with his hands and shook himself before going into the house, he was always gray or white. He was always busy, and seldom came into the house except for meals; but he appeared to be interested in his work and quite cheerful.
One evening the sky became dark earlier than usual, and a mist fell over the valley; then the wind rose and the rain began to fall. It was a dismal night out of doors, but within the miller’s house it was bright and cheerful. The window panes shone in the light from the bright fire burning in the fireplace; the curtains over the windows drooped gracefully and were clean and white; there was a bookshelf filled with new books with golden titles and a shelf filled with flowers in pots in one of the windows. The room was clean and dry and warm as the miller and his wife and daughter sat down to their evening meal.
As they sat eating and talking there came a knock at the door and the daughter went to open it. A dark-eyed Stranger was standing on the threshold. “Come in quickly,” said the girl, “the wind is driving the dead leaves and the rain into the house. You are very welcome; come and share our meal!”
The Stranger muttered his thanks and drew a chair to the fire. The mother went upstairs and presently came down again. “You are very wet,” said she. “I have laid out a suit of my husband’s in the room above. Go up and put it on! It will keep you warm and dry until your own is ready.” So saying she opened the door of the stairway and stood aside to allow the Stranger to pass.
In a short time he came down and ate a hearty meal; but his face was far from cheerful. He appeared to be gloomy and glum; he said little and looked at no one. “He is tired,” said the mother to her husband, “take him up to the guest room!”
In the morning the visitor appeared to be more cheerful than before. He was still gloomy and glum, however, as he ate his breakfast. He had come down late and the miller had gone to his work in the mill. The mother was in the kitchen, and the daughter sang as she waited on him, poured water on the flowers and drew back the curtains to let more light into the room.
“Why are you sad?” said she, “see what a beautiful morning! The fleecy clouds are sailing over the hills; the mill stream is shouting for joy and the birds are singing.”
“Why should I be happy?” said he, “My wife and child are dead; I am not well and I have lost my money. Why should I rejoice?” So saying he looked gloomier and glummer than before.
“Oh, you poor man,” said the girl, “I am so sorry.” So saying she brought in another plateful of hot cakes and put a jugful of maple syrup on the table; but still she kept on singing, for her heart was filled with joy.
“It is very pleasant here,” said the Stranger. “If you do not mind I will stay a few days. I have enough money left to pay my board.”
“You must settle that with my mother,” said the girl. “It is rather lonesome here sometimes, but you will be very welcome to stay as long as you like.” So saying she ran off to tell her mother. “Oh, mother!” said she, “I think it will be splendid to have him here; he is so sad; and he has lost his wife and child and his money; and his health is poor, too. I amsosorry for him.”
“That is too bad,” said her mother, “We must be good to him and perhaps he will become more cheerful.”
At first the Stranger wandered up and down the stream, hunting in the woods or fishing in the brook.Presently he tired of this and began to help the miller. Very soon he spent most of his time in the mill. In the evening he and the daughter would sometimes take a walk through the woods or over the hills. As he worked in the mill and grew tired and hungry, and slept in the clean, sweet country air, lulled by the voices of the Little People, he grew stronger and happier; the frown left his brow; he began to smile, and presently to hum a tune.
One day the miller did not feel very well, and he went to lie down on his bed, leaving the mill in charge of the Stranger. A few days later this happened again. Presently the Gnome laid down every day, and then he became so weak that he must stay in bed all day, while the Stranger took care of the mill alone. They sent for the Doctor who said he must stay in bed until he got better. But he got no better; he grew worse each day. One day he called the Stranger to him and said: “I feel very sick, and I believe I shall soon be going to a far country; will you take care of my wife and daughter when I am gone?” “Yes,” said the Stranger, “I will do all I can. You have all been good to me and I will do my best to return your kindness.”
Then the old miller turned his face to the wall and died. And they buried him beneath the whispering pines. And the daughter said: “Oh, what shall I do? Whatshall I do?” “Let me help you bear it,” said he. Then she looked at him and smiled through her tears.
After the miller died the mother was very lonely, and she often said that she would like to go to him. Presently she, too, sickened. Every day she grew worse, and finally she died and was laid to rest beneath the spreading pines beside her man.
After the funeral they sat before the fireplace. She was crying and his eyes were wet. “What can I do?” said she, “I have no one to love me and care for me.” “Yes you have,” said he, “I promised your father I would take care of you, and I love you very much. It will not be hard work for me to love you and care for you.”
“Oh,” said she, “I am so glad you love me, I have loved you for a long time.” Then she kissed him, shyly.
In a few days they were married. She cared for the house and he ran the mill. She is a good housewife and sings as she works and he is a good miller and sings as he runs the mill. They often kiss. I have noticed that when he kisses her he grows younger but as she kisses him she grows older. They grow happier every day.