LITMIR.BIZ

      There were once two orphans, a brother and a sister, who lived alone in the old farmhouse where their fathers before them had lived for many generations. The brother’s name was Osmo, the sister’s Ilona. Osmo was an industrious youth, but the farm was small and barren and he was hard put to it to make a livelihood.

      “Sister,” he said one day, “I think it might be well if I went out into the world and found work.”

      “Do as you think best, brother,” Ilona said. “I’m sure I can manage on here alone.”

      So Osmo started off, promising to come back for his sister as soon as he could give her a new home. He wandered far and wide and at last got employment from the King’s Son as a shepherd.

      The King’s Son was about Osmo’s age, and often when he met Osmo tending his flocks he would stop and talk to him.

       One day Osmo told the King’s Son about his sister, Ilona.

      “I have wandered far over the face of the earth,” he said, “and never have I seen so beautiful a maiden as Ilona.”

      “What does she look like?” the King’s Son asked.

      Osmo drew a picture of her and she seemed to the King’s Son so beautiful that at once he fell in love with her.

      “Osmo,” he said, “if you will go home and get your sister, I will marry her.”

      So Osmo hurried home not by the long land route by which he had come but straight over the water in a boat.

      “Sister,” he cried, as soon as he saw Ilona, “you must come with me at once for the King’s Son wishes to marry you!”

      He thought Ilona would be overjoyed, but she sighed and shook her head.

      “What is it, sister? Why do you sigh?”

      “Because it grieves me to leave this old house where our fathers have lived for so many generations.”

      “Nonsense, Ilona! What is this little old house compared to the King’s castle where you will live once you marry the King’s Son!”

       But Ilona only shook her head.

      “It’s no use, brother! I can’t bear to leave this old house until the grindstone with which our fathers for generations ground their meal is worn out.”

      When Osmo found she was firm, he went secretly and broke the old grindstone into small pieces. He then put the pieces together so that the stone looked the same as before. But of course the next time Ilona touched it, it fell apart.

      “Now, sister, you’ll come, will you not?” Osmo asked.

      But again Ilona shook her head.

      “It’s no use, brother. I can’t bear to go until the old stool where our mothers have sat spinning these many generations is worn through.”

      So again Osmo took things into his own hands and going secretly to the old spinning stool he broke it and when Ilona sat on it again it fell to pieces.

      Then Ilona said she couldn’t go until the old mortar which had been in use for generations should fall to bits at a blow from the pestle. Osmo cracked the mortar and the next time Ilona struck it with the pestle it broke.

      Then Ilona said she couldn’t go until the old worn doorsill over which so many of their forefathers had walked should fall to splinters at the brush of her skirts. So Osmo secretly split the old doorsill into thin slivers and, when next Ilona stepped over it, the brush of her skirts sent the splinters flying.

      “I see now I must go,” Ilona said, “for the house of our forefathers no longer holds me.”

      So she packed all her ribbons and her bodices and skirts in a bright wooden box and, calling her little dog Pilka, she stepped into the boat and Osmo rowed her off in the direction of the King’s castle.

      Soon they passed a long narrow spit of land at the end of which stood a woman waving her arms. That is she looked like a woman. Really she was Suyettar but they, of course, did not know this.

      “Take me in your boat!” she cried.

      “Shall we?” Osmo asked his sister.

      “I don’t think we ought to,” Ilona said. “We don’t know who she is or what she wants and she may be evil.”

      So Osmo rowed on. But the woman kept shouting:

      “Hi, there! Take me in your boat! Take me!”

      A

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