“Who be ’ee, little man?” said Farmer Griggs.

“I’m a boggart, at your service.”

“Na, na,” said Farmer Griggs, “thee’s at na sarvice o’mine.  I’ll give na room in my house to the likes o’ thee”; and he made as though he would have shut the door in the face of the little urchin.

“But listen, Georgie Griggs,” said the boggart; “I will do you a good service.”

Then Farmer Griggs did listen.  “What sarvice will’ee do me, then?” said he.

[Illustration:  Dame Mally Griggs.]

“I’ll tend your fires,” said the manikin, “I’ll bake your bread, I’ll wash your dishes, I’ll scour your pans, I’ll scrub your floors, I’ll brew your beer, I’ll roast your meat, I’ll boil your water, I’ll stuff your sausages, I’ll skim your milk, I’ll make your butter, I’ll press your cheese, I’ll pluck your geese, I’ll spin your thread, I’ll knit your stockings, I’ll mend your clothes, I’ll patch your shoes—­I’ll be everywhere and do all of the work in your house, so that you will not have to give so much as a groat for wages to cook, scullion, or serving wench!”

[Illustration:  Farmer Griggs and the Boggart.]

Then Farmer Griggs listened a little longer without shutting the door, and so did Dame Griggs.  “What’s thy name, boggart?” said he.

“Hardfist,” said the boggart; and he came a little farther in at the door, for he saw that Farmer Griggs had a mind to let him in all of the way.

“I don’t know,” said Georgie Griggs, scratching his head doubtfully; “it’s an ill thing, lettin’ mischief intull the house!  Thee’s better outside, I doubt.”

“Shut the door, Georgie!” called out Dame Griggs; “thou’rt lettin’ th’ cold air intull th’ room.”

Then Farmer Griggs shut the door, but the boggart was on the inside.

This is the way in which the boggart came into Farmer Griggs’s house, and there he was to stay, for it is no such easy matter getting rid of the likes of him when we once let him in, I can tell you.

The boggart came straightway over to the warm fire, and the dog growled—­“chur-r-r-r!”—­and showed his teeth, and the cat spit anger and jumped up on the dresser, with her back arched and her tail on end.  But the boggart cared never a whit for this, but laid himself comfortably down among the warm ashes.

Now imps, like this boggart, can only be seen as the frost is seen—­when it is cold.  So as he grew warmer and warmer, he grew thin, like a jelly-fish, and at last, when he had become thoroughly warmed through, Farmer Griggs and the dame could see him no more than though he was thin air.  But he was in the house, and he stayed there, I can tell you.  For a time everything went as smooth as cream; all of the work of the house was done as though by magic, for the boggart did all that he had promised; he made the fires, he baked the bread, he washed the dishes, he scoured the pans, he scrubbed the floors, he brewed the beer, he roasted the meat, he stuffed