Mischief seldom lacks opportunity, and shortly after this it happened
that a young girl came down to the lake for water to wash with; and
dipping her pail just above the Nix's head, in a moment he jumped in,
and was brought safe to land. The maid was Bess, the washerwoman's
daughter; and as she had had one good scolding that morning for
oversleeping herself, and another about noon for dawdling with her
work, she took up the pail and set off home without delay.

But though she held it steadily enough, the bucket shook, and the
water spilled hither and thither. Thinking that her right arm might be
tired, she moved the weight to her left, but with no better success,
for the water still spilled at every step. "One would think there were
fishes in the pail," said Bess, as she set it down. But there was
nothing to be seen but a thin red water-worm wriggling at the bottom,
such as you may see any day in a soft-water tub. It was in this shape,
however, that the Nix had disguised himself, and he almost writhed out
of his skin with delight at the success of his first essay in
mischief.

When they once more set forward the Nix leaped and jumped harder than
ever, so that not only was the water spilled, but the maiden's dress
was soaked, and her tears dropped almost as fast as the wet dripped
from her clothes.

"The pail is bewitched!" cried the poor girl. "How my mother will beat
me for this! And my back aches as if I were carrying lead, and yet the
water is nearly all gone."

"This is something like fun!" laughed the Nix. "When I go home and