"Now," cried the mother sharply, "see if you can lift _that_ without
slopping your clothes."
"Aye, aye," laughed the Nix, "see if you can, my dear!" and as poor
Bess seized it in her sturdy red hands he began to dance as before.
But the kettle had a lid, which the pail had not. Moreover Bess was a
strong, strapping lass, and, stimulated by the remembrance of her
mother's slaps, with a vigorous effort she set the kettle on the fire.
"I shall be glad when I'm safely in bed," she muttered. "Everything
goes wrong to-day."
"It is warm in here," said the Nix to himself, after a while; "in
fact--stuffy. But one must pay something for a frolic, and it tickles
my ears to hear that old woman rating her daughter for my pranks. Give
me time and opportunity, and I'll set the whole stupid race by the
ears. There she goes again! It is worth enduring a little discomfort,
though it certainly is warm, and I fancy it grows warmer."
By degrees the bottom of the kettle grew quite hot, and burnt the Nix,
so that he had to jump up and down in the water to keep himself cool.
The noise of this made the woman think that the kettle was boiling,
and she began to scold her daughter as before, shouting, "Are you
coming with that tub to-night or not? The water is hot already."
This time the Nix laughed (as they say) on the other side of his
mouth; for the water had now become as hot as the bottom of the
kettle, and he screamed at the top of his shrill tiny voice with pain.
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