But while Wayland gazed thus eagerly to discover him whom he saw not, he
was pulled by the sleeve by one by whom he himself would not willingly
have been seen.

This was Dickie Sludge, or Flibbertigibbet, who, like the imp whose name
he bore, and whom he had been accoutred in order to resemble, seemed
to be ever at the ear of those who thought least of him. Whatever were
Wayland's internal feelings, he judged it necessary to express pleasure
at their unexpected meeting.

"Ha! is it thou, my minikin--my miller's thumb--my prince of
cacodemons--my little mouse?"

"Ay," said Dickie, "the mouse which gnawed asunder the toils, just when
the lion who was caught in them began to look wonderfully like an ass."

"Thy, thou little hop-the-gutter, thou art as sharp as vinegar this
afternoon! But tell me, how didst thou come off with yonder jolterheaded
giant whom I left thee with? I was afraid he would have stripped thy
clothes, and so swallowed thee, as men peel and eat a roasted chestnut."

"Had he done so," replied the boy, "he would have had more brains in
his guts than ever he had in his noddle. But the giant is a courteous
monster, and more grateful than many other folk whom I have helped at a
pinch, Master Wayland Smith."

"Beshrew me, Flibbertigibbet," replied Wayland, "but thou art sharper
than a Sheffield whittle! I would I knew by what charm you muzzled
yonder old bear."