she ran back home, trembling like an aspen-leaf. the old woman was standing on the threshold, and the girl was about to relate what had befallen her, but the old woman laughed kindly, and said, "i already know all." she led her into the room and lighted a new log. she did not, however, sit down to her spinning again, but fetched a broom and began to sweep and scour, "all must be clean and sweet," she said to the girl. "but, mother," said the maiden, "why do you begin work at so late an hour? what do you expect?" "dost thou know then what time it is?" asked the old woman. "not yet midnight," answered the maiden, "but already past eleven o’clock." "dost thou not remember," continued the old woman, "that it is three years to-day since thou camest to me? thy time is up, we can no longer remain together." the girl was terrified, and said, "alas! dear mother, will you cast me off? where shall i go? i have no friends, and no home to which i can go. i have always done as you bade me, and you have always been satisfied with me; do not send me away." the old woman would not tell the maiden what lay before her. "my stay here is over," she said to her, "but when i depart, house and parlour must be clean: therefore do not hinder me in my work. have no care for thyself, thou shalt find a roof to shelter thee, and the wages which i will give thee shall also content thee." "but tell me what is about to happen," the maiden continued to entreat. "i tell thee again, do not hinder me in my work. do not say a word more, go to thy chamber, take the skin off thy face, and put on the silken gown which thou hadst on when thou camest to me, and then wait in thy chamber until i call thee."