“And then?” said Amelia.

“Then, perhaps some night they will take you up to dance with them in the meadows above-ground.”

“But I could not get away.  They would tread on my heels—­oh!  I could never escape them.”

“I know that,” said the woman; “your only chance is this.  If ever, when dancing in the meadows, you can find a four-leaved clover, hold it in your hand, and wish to be at home.  Then no one can stop you.  Meanwhile I advise you to seem happy, that they may think you are content, and have forgotten the world.  And dance, above all, dance!”

And Amelia, not to be behindhand, began then and there to dance some pretty figures on the heath.  As she was dancing the dwarf came by.

“Ho, ho!” said he, “you can dance, can you?”

“When I am happy I can,” said Amelia, performing several graceful movements as she spoke.

“What are you pleased about now?” snapped the dwarf, suspiciously.

“Have I not reason?” said Amelia.  “The dresses are washed and mended.”

“Then up with them!” returned the dwarf.  On which half-a-dozen elves popped the whole lot into a big basket and kicked them up into the world, where they found their way to the right wardrobes somehow.

As the woman of the heath had said, Amelia was soon set to a new task.  When she bade the old woman farewell, she asked if she could do nothing for her if ever she got at liberty herself.

“Can I do nothing to get you back to your old home?” Amelia cried, for she thought of others now as well as herself.

“No, thank you,” returned the old woman; “I am used to this, and do not care to return.  I have been here a long time—­how long I do not know; for as there is neither daylight nor dark we have no measure of time—­long, I am sure, very long.  The light and noise up yonder would now be too much for me.  But I wish you well, and, above all, remember to dance!”

The new scene of Amelia’s labours was a more rocky part of the heath, where grey granite boulders served for seats and tables, and sometimes for workshops and anvils, as in one place, where a grotesque and grimy old dwarf sat forging rivets to mend china and glass.  A fire in a hollow of the boulder served for a forge, and on the flatter part was his anvil.  The rocks were covered in all directions with the knick-knacks, ornaments, &c., that Amelia had at various times destroyed.

“If you please, sir,” she said to the dwarf, “I am Amelia.”

The dwarf left off blowing at his forge and looked at her.

“Then I wonder you’re not ashamed of yourself,” said he.

“I am ashamed of myself,” said poor Amelia, “very much ashamed.  I should like to mend these things if I can.”

“Well, you can’t say more than that,” said the dwarf, in a mollified tone, for he was a kindly little creature; “bring that china bowl here, and I’ll show you how to set to work.”