She had been so kind about the milk that Hugh this time took courage.
"We are _very_ sorry," he said, "but we really don't understand what it is you would like us to do."
"Do?" said the lady. "Why, you have nothing to do but to listen. Isn't that what you came for? To hear some of the stories I spin?"
The children opened their eyes--with pleasure it is to be supposed rather than surprise--for the white lady did not seem at all annoyed.
"Oh!" said they, both at once. "Is _that_ what you're spinning? Stories!"
"Of course," said the lady. "Where did you think they all come from?--all the stories down there?" She pointed downwards in the direction of the stair and the great hall. "Why, here I have been for--no, it would frighten you to tell you how long, by your counting, I have been up here at my spinning. I spin the round of the clock at this window, then I turn my wheel--to get the light, you see--and spin the round again at the other. If you saw the tangle it comes to me in! And the threads I send down! It is not _often_ such little people as you come up here themselves, but it does happen sometimes. And there is plenty ready for you--all ready for the wheel."
"How wonderful!" said Hugh. "And oh!" he exclaimed, "I suppose sometimes the threads get twisted again when you have to send them down such a long way, and that's how stories get muddled sometimes."
"Just so," said the white lady. "My story threads need gentle handling, and sometimes people seize them roughly and tear and soil them, and then of course they are no longer pretty. But listen now. What will you have? The first in the wheel is a very, very old fairy story. I span it for your great-great-grandmothers; shall I spin it again for you?"
"Oh, please," said both children at once.
"Then sit down on the floor and lean your heads against my knees," said the lady. "Shut your eyes and listen. That is all you have to do. Never mind the cats, they will be quite quiet."
Hugh and Jeanne did as she told them. They leaned their heads, the smooth black one of the little girl, the fair-haired curly one of the boy, on the lady's white robe. You can hardly imagine how soft and pleasant it was to the touch. A half-sleepy feeling came over them; they shut their eyes and did not feel inclined to open them again. But they did not really go to sleep; the fairy lady began to work the wheel, and through the soft whirr came the sound of a voice--whether it was the voice of the lady or of the wheel they could not tell. And this was the old, old story the wheel spun for them.