In
other respects, he was the same as before. The thin, straw-coloured
hair; the freckles across his nose; the patches on his leather breeches
and the darns on his stockings, were all like themselves, with this
exception--that they had become diminished.
No, it would do no good for him to stand still and wait, of this he was
certain. He must try something else. And he thought the wisest thing
that he could do was to try and find the elf, and make his peace with
him.
And while he sought, he cried and prayed and promised everything he
could think of. Nevermore would he break his word to anyone; never again
would he be naughty; and never, never would he fall asleep again over
the sermon. If he might only be a human being once more, he would be
such a good and helpful and obedient boy. But no matter how much he
promised--it did not help him the least little bit.
Suddenly he remembered that he had heard his mother say, all the tiny
folk made their home in the cowsheds; and, at once, he concluded to go
there, and see if he couldn't find the elf. It was a lucky thing that
the cottage-door stood partly open, for he never could have reached the
bolt and opened it; but now he slipped through without any difficulty.
When he came out in the hallway, he looked around for his wooden shoes;
for in the house, to be sure, he had gone about in his stocking-feet.
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