It was a long time ago. An old woman named Clootie came to a village that stands on the banks of the beautiful River Tyne.
The men of this village were happy and satisfied with their lot. From time immemorial they sat on this land, grazed sheep and cows, plowed, sowed and lived in abundance. Everyone had strong, good houses, warm clothes in winter and plenty of all kinds of food. And so everything went on until the old woman Kluti came to the village and settled in a small house with a rickety chimney.
The women of this village were hard-working and friendly; they baked their own bread and rolls, sewed and knitted, and stocked up on provisions for the winter. And so everything went on until the old woman Kluti came to the village and settled in a small house with a rickety chimney.
The children of this village - what can you say about them! - they were like all children on earth, big and small, sometimes obedient, sometimes unbearable, but they were all happy because their parents took pity on them: they fed them, gave them water and did not scold them in vain. Boys and girls loved to run around in the green pasture, scream loudly and laugh merrily. And so everything went on until the old woman Kluti came to the village and settled in a small house with a rickety chimney.
One evening, the good shepherd's daughter Janet sat by the burning hearth and spun her yarn in the uncertain light of the fire. Then my mother entered the room and sighed heavily: the shelves in the pantry were like nothing.
“At an evil hour, the old woman Kluti came to our village. It’s no one’s fault that we only found out about it a week later. And when they found out, they immediately took the gifts to a small house with a rickety chimney on the edge of the Gladovran field. Then I baked larks for her, and there are no tastier larks in all of Northumberland. Mrs. Margery carried a jug of mead, and the neighbor opposite, Mrs. Agnes, carried a bundle of firewood. And here you go, what happened.
Kind Janet looked at her mother and sighed sadly. No one in the village knows what came of it. Old woman Kluti took the gifts and told her neighbors to wear them every week. Let someone try and fail to bring it - the chickens will stop laying eggs, the cows will stop milking, and pestilence will attack the cattle. For those who did not respect the old woman, did not bring gifts, the butter did not churn, the husbands came from work with aches all over their bodies, the children were rude and fought, and at night they cried, they did not allow them to sleep: either their teeth would ache, or they would get a shooting in the ear.
The village realized too late that Clootie was not a simple old woman, but an evil, cantankerous witch.
What the mistresses did not wear for her to calm her temper. And they knew that once a week old woman Clootie goes to the fair in Newcastle, selling eggs, milk and butter, wool and linen - everything that they gave her, tearing them away from themselves and their children. And in return he receives round, shiny guineas, which he puts in a bag under his apron, and when he returns, he hides it somewhere in his house with a rickety chimney.
“At an evil hour, the old woman Kluti came to our village,” repeated the shepherd’s wife. “As much as we bring to her, soon the whole village will go around the world.” There is a sick person in every house, and the children do not eat enough.
“Don’t cry, mother,” says kind Janet. “You’ll see, old woman Clootie will regret that she caused so much harm to people.”
And the next day, just Saturday, the old woman Kluti herself came to the village; the face is darker than a cloud, the eyebrows are furrowed.
The housewives saw her, hid in their houses, locked the doors, closed the windows.
- Don't you dare lock yourself in! Listen, why did I come to you? It became difficult for me to manage alone in a small house with a rickety chimney. At my age, it’s time to retire. I'm looking for a maid to light the stove, cook dinner, clean the house, wipe the dust, sweep and scrub, so that I can look in the pans like in a mirror.
The housewives heard this and trembled with fear: even though they were now poor, who would want to give their daughter into the service of a witch. Just at that time a tinker was walking down the street. He had heard that old woman Clootie went to Newcastle every week and returned home with golden guineas.
“Take my daughter,” he asks, “smart Kate.” She is healthy, everyday, and hard-working. No one in all of Northum-Berlen cleans frying pans better than her.
“Send her to me tomorrow,” says old woman Clootie. - He will eat at the table with me, sleep under the table. And if she tries, I will pay her in seven years and one day one shiny golden guinea.
The old woman hobbled home, and the tinker went on his way, rubbing his hands contentedly.
The housewives gathered, gossiping about what would come of it. The tinker, everyone knows, is the most hardened rogue in all of Northumberlain, and smart Kate, like her daddy, is a great hunter of other people's goods: where anything is lying badly, she will quickly steal it.
The next morning, smart Kate went to old woman Clootie. She washed her face and hands in the stream near the mill, combed her hair with a comb, which she brushed from someone else’s window sill, dressed up in a red dress, grabbed in passing from someone else’s rope, and also put on a green jacket over it: the blacksmith’s daughter was playing “Jack-jump-across-the-river”, she felt hot, she threw the jacket on a bush; then Kate walked by, well, remember the jacket, what was the name.
Smart Kate came to the old woman’s house, the cat Chernulin came out onto the porch and began to rub around her legs.
“Smart Kate,” she says, “please pour some milk into my white saucer.” - And he purred with pleasure.
“Pour it yourself,” smart Kate answered the cat. “I didn’t hire myself to serve the cats.”
She kicked him and knocked on the door. The cat looked at her and stopped purring.
Old woman Clootie opened the door, looked at smart Kate and was satisfied - strong, healthy, she could handle any job.
“Come in,” said the old woman. “You will light the stoves, cook dinner, clean the house, wipe the dust, sweep and scrape, so that I can look in the frying pans as if in a mirror.”
“I can do that,” answered smart Kate.
I entered the house, took a broom, let's sweep. And the cat Chernulin sits on a chair, looks at her and does not purr.
“Just be careful,” says old woman Clootie, “don’t try to put a broom in the chimney!”
“Yeah, that’s where she keeps the golden guineas,” Kate realized, and she nodded her head and continued sweeping. All day Kate scrubbed, chalked and scrubbed. Old woman Clootie saw her reflection in the polished pans in the evening, praised the maid and hobbled upstairs to sleep.
“I’ll go to bed too,” Kate thought, curled up under the table and fell asleep. And in the morning I woke up with the first roosters, took a broom and started poking around in the chimney.
A leather bag filled with shiny golden guineas fell from there. Smart Kate was delighted, took the bag, did not forget to grab a green jacket - and get out of the house while old woman Clootie was sleeping.
Smart Kate runs across the Gladovran field and sees a gate at the end of the field.
“Dear girl,” says the gate, “open me.” For how many years no one opened the door for me.
Kate shook her black hair and shook her head.
“Open it yourself,” he answers. - I don’t have time. She leaned her hand on the crossbar, easily jumped over the fence and ran on.
Runs and runs - a cow is grazing in a green meadow among yellow buttercups.
“Dear girl,” says the cow, “milk me.” For how many years no one milked me.
Kate shook her black hair and shook her head.
“Finish it yourself,” he answers. - I don’t have time.
And she ran on. He sees a mill on the banks of the beautiful River Tyne, and three leisurely ducks swim along it and dive to the bottom for fat worms.
“Dear girl,” says the mill, “turn my wheel.” For how many years no one turned it.
Kate shook her black hair and shook her head.
“Let it spin on its own,” he answers. - I don’t have time.
But the fact is that smart Kate was getting angrier and angrier every minute: she was running fast, out of breath, the bag of guineas was heavy, and she wanted to sleep - after all, she got up early in the morning.
“I don’t have to suffer alone,” she said to herself. -Who found the golden guineas? Me: Who carried this weight for so long? Me again. So let father carry on.” And she hid the bag in the chute through which grain is poured onto the millstones. Then she ran to her father and told him how smart she was.
Old woman Clootie woke up with the third roosters, went downstairs - the floor was not swept, the fireplace was cold, and there was a whole pile of soot on the floor. She realized that smart Kate had climbed into the chimney with a broom and found a bag of guineas.
- You will pay for this with me. - said the witch and limped off in pursuit.
Gladovran passed the field, went up to the gate and asked: “Wicket, gate, have you seen my toadstool maid?” She has a leather bag in her hands, and in the bag are all my golden guineas.
“Go on,” the gate answers.
An old woman waddles across a green meadow covered in yellow buttercups and sees a cow grazing.
“Cow, cow,” asks the old woman, “have you seen my toadstool servant?” She has a leather bag in her hands, and in the bag are all my golden guineas.
- Go further. - the cow answers.
The old woman reached a mill on the banks of the beautiful River Tyne, where three leisurely ducks swim and dive to the bottom for fat worms.
“Mill, mill,” says the old woman, “have you seen my toadstool maid?” She has a leather bag in her hands, and in it are all my golden guineas.
- Look into my gutter.
The old woman put her hand into the gutter and found a bag of shiny golden guineas. The old woman took the bag, limped home and hid it again in the rickety chimney.
Kate and her father returned to the mill, looked into the chute, but there was no bag. Kate realized that old woman Clootie had already been here. He and his father got scared—witches are not to be trifled with—packed up their belongings, crossed the bridge over the beautiful River Tyne, and from that time on, nothing was heard of them in Northumberland.
On Saturday, old woman Clootie hobbled into the village again.
- Don't lock the windows and doors! - shouts. “I need an honest maid to light the stove, cook dinner, clean the house, sweep the dust, sweep and scrub, so that I can look in the pans like in a mirror.”
This time there was no rogue tinker who so willingly sent his daughter into the service of the witch. The face of the evil old woman darkened, the curse was about to break, but then kind Janet spoke.
“Take me as your maid,” she said meekly. “I agree to work for seven years and one day for one golden guinea.” Just promise to let me go home on Sundays.
Old woman Clootie nodded and limped home. Good Janet immediately went for her; They approached the door, the cat Chernulin came out onto the porch, rubbed himself around the girl’s legs and said:
- Good Janet, pour some milk into my white saucer. - And he purred with pleasure.
“I’ll gladly splash it,” Janet answered and splashed him with milk.
“Just be careful,” the old woman said to the new maid, “don’t you dare climb into the chimney with a broom.” No way.
And at that time the cat purred so loudly that good Janet could not understand the last words. She heard that old woman Clootie was just ordering the chimney to be cleaned with a broom. She smiled, nodded and began sweeping the floor.
In the morning, kind Janet woke up with the first roosters.
“Today I will go home to my father and mother,” she thought joyfully. “You just need to clean the pipe first.” She took the broom and stuck it as far into the pipe as possible. And of course, it fell out under a leather bag full of shiny guineas.
Good Janet looked at the gold and remembered what had become of her village: the houses were unheated, the children were sitting hungry, and all because of this insatiable witch.
“I’ll go home and ask my father and mother what to do with the golden guineas,” she decided, took the bag and ran across the field to the gate.
“Dear girl,” the gate told her, “open me.” For how many years no one opened the door for me.
“I’ll open it willingly,” answered good Janet, opened the gate and ran on.
He sees a cow grazing on a green meadow surrounded by yellow buttercups and asks:
- Dear girl, milk me. For how many years no one milked me.
“I’ll milk it willingly,” says kind Janet. She sat down, milked the cow and ran on. Sees a mill on the banks of the beautiful River Tyne.
- Dear girl, turn my wheel. For how many years no one turned it.
“I’ll be willing to turn,” said good Janet. She turned the wheel and ran home quickly.
And old woman Clootie woke up that morning with the third roosters. She went downstairs and saw that there was another pile of soot on the hearth on the hearth. The old woman realized that Janet had climbed into the pipe with a broom and found the money.
“You’ll pay for this,” said the old woman and hobbled into the field.
- Gate, gate, haven’t you seen my toadstool maid?
She has a leather bag in her hands, and in the bag are all my golden guineas.
The gate did not answer anything, because Janet opened it. And the cow didn't say anything because Janet milked her. And the mill was silent, because good Janet turned the mill wheel.
This is where the witchcraft power of the old woman Clootie ended. And she turned from an evil witch into a helpless old woman who no one needs and whom no one loves.
But it just so happened that her fate turned out to be happier than she deserved. Good Janet and her father and mother divided the gold guineas equally among all the villagers: after all, in fairness it was their money. And when they learned that Clootie was no longer a witch, but a poor, lonely old woman, they gave her some guineas from a leather bag. Kind Janet sometimes brought her gifts - eggs, butter, milk and delicious larks, which her mother baked. So, for the rest of her days, old Clootie lived peacefully, without knowing any need, together with her black cat in a small house, over which a rickety chimney still sticks out to this day.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru