Meanwhile, her son had grown up into a stout, active boy of twelve. He was full of life and animation; and that, I suppose, was the reason he had received the name of “Wide-awake.” Now, little Wide-awake had a kind heart as well as manly spirit; and when he saw that his mother, who had worked so hard and so long for him, had become blind, he said to himself, “Now it is my turn to work.”
So he told his mother that he was going to seek for work, and that, after three months, he would faithfully return. But first he sold the spinning-wheel, which was no longer of any use, and one or two other articles, and gave the money to a neighbor, who promised to spend it for his mother as[66] she had need. Then he took a cheerful leave of his mother, and went off with a light heart, though his pockets were empty.
He had not walked far when he overtook an old woman, who was bending beneath the weight of a heavy burden. She was homely, and appeared very tired. Wide-awake was passing by, when she called out to him, “Come here, little boy: help me to carry this bundle. I am old, weak, and tired; you are young and strong.”
Wide-awake was very obliging; and, though the old woman’s tone was not the pleasantest in the world, he very willingly took one side of the bundle, and helped her to carry it. The day was hot, and the bundle heavy; but he bore up stoutly, so that the old woman began to get over her ill humor, and to ask him some questions. So he told her his whole story,—how his mother was blind and unable to work, and he was seeking his fortune.
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“Well,” said the old woman, “if that is the case, I think you had better come and live with me. I live in a little cottage not far off, and am in want of a boy to go on errands and do other little things for me. If you will come and stay with me three months, I will reward you as you deserve. But I will warn you that I am very particular, and shall require you to obey me in every thing.”
Of course, Wide-awake was only too glad to accept the old woman’s offer. He was quite sure that he should be able to suit her; and he could not help picturing to himself how glad his mother would be to have him return with perhaps a piece of gold; for this seemed a great sum to Wide-awake, and a very generous compensation for three months’ labor.
After a while, they came to the old woman’s cottage. It was a small house, containing three rooms. One of these was[68] a kitchen, in which the old woman did all her cooking; another was her chamber; and the third she told Wide-awake he should have to sleep in.
Early the next morning, the old woman came to his bedside, and shook him roughly.
“Up! up!” said she. “Is not the sun up? and you are lying here asleep! What is your name?”
“Wide-awake,” said he, rubbing his eyes.
“Then,” said the old woman, “hereafter, be sure to be wide awake before the sun. Dress yourself as quickly as possible, and I will give you your breakfast; and then to work.”
Wide-awake was up and dressed in a moment. The old woman set before him a bowl of bread and milk for his breakfast. After he had eaten this, she took him to a fold near by, where he saw ten beautiful sheep.
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“These,” said she, “will be your care. You will drive them to the great meadow a mile hence, and watch them, taking care that none stray away. Three times a day—at morning, noon, and night—you will drive them to the spring, and let them drink; and, at seven o’clock, you may bring them back.”
Wide-awake promised faithfully to obey her in every respect. He found the great meadow without difficulty. He watched the sheep, and watered them, as he had been directed, and, at nightfall, drove them home. The old woman counted the sheep, and, finding them all there, was well content, and gave Wide-awake his supper.
So time passed on. Every day the old woman became better satisfied with Wide-awake, who, on his part, was looking forward to the time when he might go home.
One morning about this time, as Wide-awake[70] was about to drive out his sheep as usual, the old woman stopped him.
“They have grown quite fat,” said she; “so I shall carry them to the city and sell them. I shall be gone a week, and shall leave you here to take care of the house while I am gone. You will not have much to do. But there is one thing I must warn you against: you must not, on any account, open the door of the closet which is in your chamber. If you do, you will repent it.”
Wide-awake was not troubled with curiosity; and so he found no difficulty in making this promise.
The old woman departed, and Wide-awake was left alone. Having nothing else to do, he began to think of home and his mother. Then he began to wonder how much his mistress meant to give him for his services. He determined that he would buy a nice arm-chair for his mother, and a great many other things, if his money only held out.[71] But they were all for his mother’s comfort, and not for his own, as I have already explained that Wide-awake was far from being selfish.
On the fourth day after the old woman’s departure, a stout man came to the door, and asked leave to rest a little while. Wide-awake knew that his mistress would have no objection; so he gave him permission, and, moreover, placed before him some bread and milk. The man ate heartily, and, in the mean time, contrived to draw out of Wide-awake all the particulars of his situation, and the old woman’s prohibiting him to open the door of the closet.
“I have no doubt,” said he, “that it is there where she keeps her money. If I were in your place, I would look and see. It wouldn’t do any harm.”
“But,” said Wide-awake, in astonishment, “she told me not to do it on any account.”
“Never mind that,” said the man, winking:[72] “it’ll do no harm; and she’ll never know it.”
“But,” said Wide-awake, firmly, “I have promised; and I never break my promise.”
“Well, then, if you won’t, I will,” said the stranger, rising; “for I’m determined to know what there is in that closet.”
But Wide-awake sprang to the door, set his back resolutely against it, and said,—
“Never! while I live.”
“Poh!” was the contemptuous reply. “What is your strength against mine? Don’t you know that I can kill you?”
“That may be,” said Wide-awake, firmly,—though the thoughts of his mother came over his mind; and he could not help sighing for her, if he should die,—“but I will not yield.”
“Are you quite determined you will not let me in?” said the stranger.
The voice seemed altered; and, looking up, Wide-awake beheld, to his great surprise,[73] that it was the old woman who addressed him.
“Where is the man who was here a minute since?” asked he in surprise.
The old woman smiled, and explained to him that she was a fairy, and had taken a man’s figure to test his sincerity. She said she was quite satisfied with the result, and, as she had no further need of his services, would let him return home.
“But I owe you something for your past fidelity. What shall it be? I leave it to your choice. Wealth, happiness, and long life: I will confer either of these upon you. Choose.”
“And may I choose any thing I like?” said Wide-awake, with eyes sparkling.
“Yes,” said the fairy (for so we must now call her).
“Then I will choose that my mother be restored to sight.”
“You have chosen well, my child,” said[74] the fairy, kindly: “it shall be as you say; and, to reward you for your affection to your mother, I will freely bestow upon you the three gifts which you did not choose. You shall be rich; and your life shall be both long and happy.”
Wide-awake found his mother fully restored to sight. With the wealth which the fairy bestowed upon him, he built a neat cottage for his mother, who was long spared to him. The fairy’s promise was verified in every particular.