The engineer and the dwarfs
"He is going to put up here for the present; he is an engineer at work on the tunnel; good thing for us"; she whispered the last sentence. "I will see about getting your room ready," she said, turning to Karl.
"Please do not trouble," said he. "I'm due at the tunnel again at 7 a.m. and it is 6 o'clock now. I hope to return to-night about 8 o'clock; then I shall be glad of a room," he said, with a hardly suppressed yawn. "Pray excuse me, I had rather a bad night," he added with a twinkle in his eyes that only Norah perceived.
As soon as he was gone, Norah handed some gold pieces to her father.
"And do you think that I am doing right in taking this money from you, Norah?" he asked.
"Why of course father! I'm telling you that it's fairy gold, and will bring us luck," she replied.
The Irish have a great respect for luck and omens; many of them still believe in the good folk, and Mr O'Brian, who was of a very easygoing disposition, was quite satisfied with this explanation.
Some weeks passed. Karl and Norah became better friends every day. All Karl's previous notions of the universe had been knocked on the head by his visit to dwarfland. He had thought that he knew almost everything that there was to be known, but now he was always on the look-out for surprises. Moreover his love for Norah had opened his eyes. Every bush seemed ablaze with fire, and the roses and pinks in the gardens smelt as they had never smelt before.
Norah was like a fairy princess; she was not easy to win, she loved her freedom, and wished to call no man lord and master. Because she was such a wild bird and of a poetic and dreamy temperament, Karl's practical mind appealed to her. He possessed that which she and her father lacked. She was tired of her father's promises and castles in the air, which usually ended in bitter disappointment. How many guests had they had since Hôtel Fancy had been opened? She could almost count them on her fingers. The peasants frequented the old inn that they were accustomed to in the village, and very few strangers came their way.
The Stolen Turnips, the Magic Tablecloth, the Sneezing Goat, and the Wooden Whistle
Category: Russia folktales
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