“It’s Tommy Lamb, if you please, ma’am,” said a little voice.

“Come in, Tommy,” said the dame.

So in came Tommy Lamb, a little, curly-headed fellow, not any older than you, “What is it you want, Tommy?” said the dame.

“If you please, ma’am, there’s a little gentleman outside, no taller than I be; he gave me this box, and told me to tell you to rub your eyes with the salve and then to come out to him.”

The dame looked out of the window, but never a body stood there that she could see.  “Where is the gentleman, dearie?” said she.

“Yonder he is, with a great white horse standing beside him,” said Tommy Lamb, and he pointed with his finger as he spoke.

The dame rubbed her eyes and looked again, but never a thing did she see but the green gate, the lilac-bushes, and the butcher’s shop opposite.  The truth of the matter is, that little children like you, my dear, see things which we grown folks, with the dust of the world in our eyes, may never behold.  “Well,” said Dame Margery to herself, “this is strange, for sure! I see no little old gentleman in green.”  Then she opened the box that she held, and looked into it and saw that it was filled with a green salve.  “I’ll rub some of it on my eyes, at any rate,” said she; whereupon she did so.  Then she looked again, and, lo and behold! there stood a little old man, no taller than Tommy Lamb.  His face was as brown, and as withered, and as wrinkled as a winter’s crab-apple left on the bare tree when the frost is about.  He was dressed all in green from top to toe, and on his head was a tall green cap, with a bell at the peak, which tinkled at every movement of his head.  By his side stood a great, tall, milk-white horse, with a long tail and mane tied with party-colored ribbons.

[Illustration:  The little man and the great horse]

Dame Margery went out to the little old gentleman in green, and asked him what he would have with her.  He told the dame that his wife was sorely sick, and that he wanted her to come and nurse her for the night.  At this Dame Margery hemmed and hawed and shook her head, for she did not like the thought of going out at night, she knew not where, and with such a strange little body.  Then the little man begged her and pleaded with her, and his voice and his words were as sweet as honey.  At last he persuaded her to go, promising her a good reward if she would nurse his wife back into her health again.  So the dame went back into the cottage to make ready for her journeying, throwing her red riding-cloak over her shoulders, and drawing her thick shoes upon her feet.  Then she filled her reticule with a parcel of simples, in case they should be needed.  After this she came out again, and climbed up behind the little man in green, and so settled herself upon the pillion saddle for her ride.  Then the little man whistled to his horse, and away they went.