`But where is your son?’ asked Jem, with a trembling voice.
`Heaven only knows!’ replied the man; `seven years ago he was stolen from the market-place, and we have heard no more of him.’
`Seven years ago!’ cried Jem, with horror.
`Yes, indeed, seven years ago, though it seems but yesterday that my wife came back howling and crying, and saying the child had not come back all day. I always thought and said that something of the kind would happen. Jem was a beautiful boy, and everyone made much of him, and my wife was so proud of him, and liked him to carry the vegetables and things to grand folks’ houses, where he was petted and made much of. But I used to say, “Take care — the town is large, there are plenty of bad people in it — keep a sharp eye on Jem.” And so it happened; for one day an old woman came and bought a lot of things — more than she could carry; so my wife, being a kindly soul, lent her the boy, and — we have never seen him since.’
`And that was seven years ago, you say?’
`Yes, seven years: we had him cried — we went from house to house. Many knew the pretty boy, and were fond of him, but it was all in vain. No one seemed to know the old woman who bought the vegetables either;
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only one old woman, who is ninety years old, said it might have been the fairy Herbaline, who came into the town once in every fifty years to buy things.’
As his father spoke, things grew clearer to Jem’s mind, and he saw now that he had not been dreaming, but had really served the old woman seven years in the shape of a squirrel. As he thought it over rage filled his heart. Seven years of his youth had been stolen from him, and what had he got in return? To learn to rub up cocoa nuts, and to polish glass floors, and to be taught cooking by guinea pigs! He stood there thinking, till at last his father asked him:
`Is there anything I can do for you, young gentleman? Shall I make you a pair of slippers, or perhaps `with a smile — `a case for your nose?’
`What have you to do with my nose?’ asked Jem. `And why should I want a case for it?’
`Well, everyone to his taste,’ replied the cobbler; `but I must say if I had such a nose I would have a nice red leather cover made for it. Here is a nice piece; and think what a protection it would be to you. As it is, you must be constantly knocking up against things.’
The lad was dumb with fright. He felt his nose. It was thick, and quite two hands long. So, then, the old woman had changed his shape, and that was why his own mother did not know him, and called him a horrid dwarf!
`Master,’ said he, `have you got a glass that I could see myself in?’
`Young gentleman,’ was the answer, `your appearance is hardly one to be vain of, and there is no need to waste your time looking in a glass. Besides, I have none here, and if you must have one you had better ask Urban the barber, who lives over the way, to lend you his. Good morning.’
So saying, he gently pushed Jem into the street, shut the door, and went back to his work.
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Jem stepped across to the barber, whom he had known in old days.
`Good morning, Urban,’ said he; `may I look at myself in your glass for a moment?’
`With pleasure,’ said the barber, laughing, and all the people in his shop fell to laughing also. `You are a pretty youth, with your swan-like neck and white hands and small nose. No wonder you are rather vain; but look as long as you like at yourself.’
So spoke the barber, and a titter ran round the room. Meantime Jem had stepped up to the mirror, and stood gazing sadly at his reflection. Tears came to his eyes.
`No wonder you did not know your child again, dear mother,’ thought he; `he wasn’t like this when you were so proud of his looks.’
His eyes had grown quite small, like pigs’ eyes, his nose was huge and hung down over his mouth and chin, his throat seemed to have disappeared altogether, and his head was fixed stiffly between his shoulders. He was no taller than he had been seven years ago, when he was not much more than twelve years old, but he made up in breadth, and his back and chest had grown into lumps like two great sacks. His legs were small and spindly, but his arms were as large as those of a well-grown man, with large brown hands, and long skinny fingers.
Then he remembered the morning when he had first seen the old woman, and her threats to him, and without saying a word he left the barber’s shop.
He determined to go again to his mother, and found her still in the market-place. He begged her to listen quietly to him, and he reminded her of the day when he went away with the old woman, and of many things in his childhood, and told her how the fairy had bewitched him, and he had served her seven years. Hannah did not know what to think — the story was so strange; and it seemed impossible to think her pretty boy and this hideous dwarf were the same. At last she decided to go
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and talk to her husband about it. She gathered up her baskets, told Jem to follow her, and went straight to the cobbler’s stall.
`Look here,’ said she, `this creature says he is our lost son. He has been telling me how he was stolen seven years ago, and bewitched by a fairy.’
`Indeed!’ interrupted the cobbler angrily. `Did he tell you this? Wait a minute, you rascal! Why I told him all about it myself only an hour ago, and then he goes off to humbug you. So you were bewitched, my son were you? Wait a bit, and I’ll bewitch you!’
So saying, he caught up a bundle of straps, and hit out at Jem so hard that he ran off crying.
The poor little dwarf roamed about all the rest of the day without food or drink, and at night was glad to lie down and sleep on the steps of a church. He woke next morning with the first rays of light, and began to think what he could do to earn a living. Suddenly he remembered that he was an excellent cook, and he determined to look out for a place.
As soon as it was quite daylight he set out for the palace, for he knew that the grand duke who reigned over the country was fond of good things.
When he reached the palace all the servants crowded about him, and made fun of him, and at last their shouts and laughter grew so loud that the head steward rushed out, crying, `For goodness sake, be quiet, can’t you. Don’t you know his highness is still asleep?’
Some of the servants ran off at once, and others pointed out Jem. Indeed, the steward found it hard to keep himself from laughing at the comic sight, but he ordered the servants off and led the dwarf into his own room.
When he heard him ask for a place as cook, he said: `You make some mistake, my lad. I think you want to be the grand duke’s dwarf, don’t you?’
`No, sir,’ replied Jem. `I am an experienced cook,
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and if you will kindly take me to the head cook he may find me of some use.’
`Well, as you will; but believe me, you would have an easier place as the grand ducal dwarf.’
So saying, the head steward led him to the head cook’s room.
`Sir,’ asked Jem, as he bowed till his nose nearly touched the floor, `do you want an experienced cook?’
The head cook looked him over from head to foot, and burst out laughing.
`You a cook! Do you suppose our cooking stoves are so low that you can look into any saucepan on them? Oh, my dear little fellow, whoever sent you to me wanted to make fun of you.’
But the dwarf was not to be put off.
`What matters an extra egg or two, or a little butter or flour and spice more or less, in such a house as this?’ said he. `Name any dish you wish to have cooked, and give me the materials I ask for, and you shall see.’