His mother owned a great, heavy, iron-bound oak chest, which she permitted no one but herself to open.  Here she treasured all the things she had inherited from her mother, and of these she was especially careful.  Here lay a couple of old-time peasant dresses, of red homespun cloth, with short bodice and plaited shirt, and a pearl-bedecked breast pin.  There were starched white-linen head-dresses, and heavy silver ornaments and chains.  Folks don’t care to go about dressed like that in these days, and several times his mother had thought of getting rid of the old things; but somehow, she hadn’t had the heart to do it.

Now the boy saw distinctly—­in the glass—­that the chest-lid was open.  He could not understand how this had happened, for his mother had closed the chest before she went away.  She never would have left that precious chest open when he was at home, alone.

He became low-spirited and apprehensive.  He was afraid that a thief had sneaked his way into the cottage.  He didn’t dare to move; but sat still and stared into the looking-glass.

While he sat there and waited for the thief to make his appearance, he began to wonder what that dark shadow was which fell across the edge of the chest.  He looked and looked—­and did not want to believe his eyes.  But the thing, which at first seemed shadowy, became more and more clear to him; and soon he saw that it was something real.  It was no less a thing than an elf who sat there—­astride the edge of the chest!

To be sure, the boy had heard stories about elves, but he had never dreamed that they were such tiny creatures.  He was no taller than a hand’s breadth—­this one, who sat on the edge of the chest.  He had an old, wrinkled and beardless face, and was dressed in a black frock coat, knee-breeches and a broad-brimmed black hat.  He was very trim and smart, with his white laces about the throat and wrist-bands, his buckled shoes, and the bows on his garters.  He had taken from the chest an embroidered piece, and sat and looked at the old-fashioned handiwork with such an air of veneration, that he did not observe the boy had awakened.

The boy was somewhat surprised to see the elf, but, on the other hand, he was not particularly frightened.  It was impossible to be afraid of one who was so little.  And since the elf was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he neither saw nor heard, the boy thought that it would be great fun to play a trick on him; to push him over into the chest and shut the lid on him, or something of that kind.

But the boy was not so courageous that he dared to touch the elf with his hands, instead he looked around the room for something to poke him with.  He let his gaze wander from the sofa to the leaf-table; from the leaf-table to the fireplace.  He looked at the kettles, then at the coffee-urn, which stood on a shelf, near the fireplace; on the water bucket near the door; and on the spoons and knives and forks and