48 THUMBELINA.

and look at Thumbelina, who stood before him with a bit or
decayed wood in her hand, for she had not a lantern.

“‘T thank you, you pretty littie child,” said the sick Swallow ;
“T have been famously warmed. Soon I shall get my strength
back again, and I shall be able to fly about in the warm sunshine.”

“Oh!” she said, “it is so cold without. It snows and freezes.
Stay in your warm bed, and I will nurse you.”

Then she brought the Swallow water in the petal of a flower ;
and the Swallow drank, and told her how he had torn one of his
wings in a thorn-bush, and thus he had not been able to fly so
fast as the other swallows, which had sped away, far away, to the
warm countries. Soat last he had fallen to the ground ; but he
could remember nothing more, and did not know at all how he
had come where she had found him.

The whole winter the Swallow remained there, and Thumbelina
nursed and tended him heartily. Neither the Field Mouse nor
the Mole heard anything about it, for they did not like the poor
Swallow. So soon as the spring came, and the sun warmed the
earth, the Swallow bade Thumbelina farewell, and she opened the
hole which the Mole had made in the ceiling. The sun shonein
upon them gloriously, and the Swallow asked if Thumbelina
would go with him ; shecould sit upon his back, and they would
fly away far into the green wood. But Thumbelina knew that
the old Field Mouse would be grieved if she left her.

“ No, I cannot!” said Thumbelina.

“ Farewell, farewell, you good, pretty girl!” said the Swallow ;
and he flew out into the sunshine. Thumbelina looked after him,
and the tears came into her eyes, for she was heartily and sin-
cerely fond of the poor Swallow.

“Tweet-weet ! tweet-weet !” sang the bird, and flew into the
green forest. Thumbelina felt very sad. She did not get per-
mission to go out into the warm sunshine. The corn which was
sown in the field over the house of the Field Mouse grew up high
into the air; it was quite a thick wood for the poor girl, who was
only an inch in height.

“You are betrothed now, Thumbelina,” said the Field Mouse.
‘“‘ My neighbour has proposed for you. What great fortune for a
poor child like you! Now you must work at your outfit, woollen
and linen clothes both ; for you must lack nothing when you have
become the Mole’s wife.”

Thumbelina had to turn the spindle, and the Mole hired four
spiders to weave for her day and night. Every evening the Mole
paid her a visit ; and he was always saying that when the summer
should draw to aclose, the sun would not shine nearly so hot, for
\that now it burned the earth almost as hard asastone. Yes,
when the summer should have gone, then he would keep his wed-
ding day with Thumbelina. But she was not glad at all, for she
did not like the tiresome Mole. Every morning when the sur