Tom declared it had in some mysterious way to do with the little creature's welfare, and that it was a kind of conscience--a Small People's conscience, perhaps. But Joan said she believed it was something more than that, if there was any meaning in the words of the song the dinky old woman in the bal-bonnet had sung.
But, whoever was right, there was no doubt that the Pail showed its approval or disapproval of whatever Ninnie-Dinnie did! If the little maid was especially helpful and kind, the Pail became a lovely shade of silver and gray, and its letters stood out in glittering distinctness; but if she was lazy, or spoke rudely to her foster-parents, it grew darker than hornblende, and its characters were hardly visible.
This strange property of the Pail made Joan feel quite creepy when she first discovered its peculiarity, which she happened to do one day when Ninnie-Dinnie was very fractious and would do nothing she was bidden. She got used to it in time, and was even glad it showed its pleasure, or otherwise, in the manner it did.
She often told her husband that, when the little maid was particularly kind to her when he was at the bal, the Pail would laugh all over its sides.
Ninnie-Dinnie was now in her eighth year, counting the year she was brought to the cottage, and a dear, useful little maid she was; and no one to beat her anywhere for work, Tom declared, particularly when her size was considered.
The child was very small, so small that she could still sleep in the basket cradle she came in--and did too, for the simple reason that she was wakeful all night if she slept anywhere else.
Both Tom and Joan were sometimes troubled at her size. For she never seemed to grow bigger or fatter, whatever they gave her to eat, and they feared she would always be a little Go-by-the-ground. [25] Joan, however, consoled herself that perhaps she was an off relation of the dear Little People.
Although Ninnie-Dinnie was exceedingly tiny, she was very sharp, and asked more questions in a day than they could answer in a year. She wanted to know the why and wherefore of everything--what the moor-flowers were made of, and who lived inside the great grey carns, and what made Carn Kenidzhek hoot--was it the giant who lived inside it?--and much besides that neither Tom nor Joan could answer, because they did not know themselves.