Pearlie
A father once had three daughters. The first two, Alice and Beatrice, were such dazzling beauties that villagers would stop and stare in awe. The third, however, was small, a touch on the skinny side, and rather hunched. Only her big, sparkling eyes stood out on her face. Working the fields was a challenge for her, and keeping up with her older sisters at home was hardly any easiershe was forever running late and running thin.
Suitors flocked in droves for Alice and Beatrice; the family hallway was perpetually jammed with hopeful lads clutching bouquets and over-the-top compliments. But no one, not even the postman, gave a second glance to the youngest, Pearlie. The sisters would sigh and declare with dramatic flair, We wont get married until we find a husband for poor Pearlie. Until then, were staying put!
Time passed and still no one showed any interest in Pearlie. Alice and Beatrice tried dressing her up, dousing her cheeks with blush, but it was no good; she remained the wallflower. Even their friends took to teasing, At this rate, you’ll be single foreveryour Pearlie predicament will be your undoing!
Pearlie, hearing this, grew sadnot for herself, but for her darling sisters. One night, she made up her mind. I cant keep dragging everyone down. Better I just leave home, then Alice and Beatrice can marry at last. Ill head to town and try to find work as a maid.
She waited until the house was quiet, packed a small bundle of belongings, and slipped out under the moon. All night, Pearlie trudged along the silvery country lane, her spirits oddly light. Only when the path reached the edge of a dark wood did her courage waverwhat if a wild boar was lurking, wide awake and peckish? She squared her shoulders and pressed into the trees.
Soon the sun was rising and Pearlie, feeling a bit worn, decided to rest behind a hazel bush. She tucked her bundle under her head, pulled her scarf across her face, and dozed off.
She awoke, startled, to the sound of an axe thwacking nearby. As Pearlie sat up, a dry branch crashed to the ground with a swoosh! Heart hammering, she jumped to her feet and spotted an old man approachingshort and sturdy, with a beard as white as Sunday tablecloths, an axe slung over his shoulder.
Dont be frightened, lass, said the old fellow kindly. I mean you no harm.
Who are you, sir? You nearly knocked me out cold! gasped Pearlie.
Im the woodsman, he replied. My cottage is just over there. Im just chopping some old branches. But whats a young lady like you doing alone in the woods?
So Pearlie confessed her troubles. The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully. Seems to me youre a kind-hearted soul. Why not stay with me in my cottage? You can be like a granddaughter to me, and if you change your mind, Ill walk you all the way to town myself.
Delighted, Pearlie agreed. So they began living together. By day, the woodsman tended the forest; Pearlie managed the house and grew quite good at it, thanks to the sparse demands of a woodsmans cottage.
The old fellow was a cheerful sort and a marvellous storytellerhe could make tales last all evening if you let him. Gradually, he taught Pearlie about herbs and roots, berries and flowers: what to pick and when, how to dry them, and even how to prepare medicines. Pearlie soaked up every word; the woodsman kept no secrets.
When his time came, Pearlie wept, but the woodsman comforted her. Dont fret, my deareverything comes in its own time. When Im gone, give me a proper burial and then go home. Ive taught you all I know. I served the woods; now you can serve people.
And so, when the old man passed away, Pearlie tended to his last wishes with a heavy heart. When she felt ready, she made her way back to her village.
Upon her return, Pearlie discovered that Alice and Beatrice had both marriedluckily, to a pair of brothersso the family now lived all together in a grand house. The sisters were overjoyed to see Pearlie alive and well. They set aside a sunny room for her, and Pearlie busied herself helping out.
She had picked up all sorts of knowledge from the woodsman: how to enrich the soil, cure all sorts of ailments, and rid the garden of weeds. As a result, her sisters crops were always bountiful, the livestock healthy, and no one ever caught so much as a sniffle. All in all, life was peachy.
It didnt take long for word to spread. Soon, neighbours were calling round at every opportunity, eager for Pearlies advice. She never asked for money. If people insisted, they might leave some eggs or a colourful handkerchief, and if they had nothing to offer, Pearlie simply smiled and gave her help anyway.
But not everyone was pleased. In the same village lived Old Mrs. Nettleby, who made a living telling fortunes and muttering over cauldrons. Folks visited her for potions and predictions, but she was rather feared, mostly for her sour mood. Since Pearlie began helping everyone, villagers started avoiding Nettlebys cottage, taking the long way round instead. Old Mrs. Nettleby was not amused.
Plotting all sorts, she finally arrived at Pearlies door, moaning loudly, Oh, Pearl Agnes, dear heart! My arm aches terriblyI can hardly lift a kettle!
Come and sit, Granny, Pearlie replied cheerily. Let me have a look at your arm.
Pearlie gently felt her arm. Im not sure your arm is the problem, Granny. Are you sure its not just a bit of tiredness? Let me check the other one.
This is the one, deary! It aches dreadfullycant eat, cant drink, misery! groaned Nettleby, dramatically.
Pearlie shook her head. Granny, I dont think theres anything wrong with your arm.
Very well, no harm done, Granny conceded abruptly. Maybe chatting with you has done the trickfeeling better already! Thank you, Pearl Agnes. Have this little gift. She handed Pearlie a tiny looking glass. Youre a young beautyjust the thing for admiring yourself.
Thank you, Granny, Pearlie replied. May your good words turn out better than your bad ones!
Of course, the mirror was thoroughly enchantedNettleby had whispered all sorts of mutterings onto it.
But strangely, Pearlies hunch began to vanish. Villagers wondered if they were imagining thingsshe stood straighter, hardly limped anymore, and shed gaze into Grannys mirror with a hopeful grin. Nettleby noticed her spells werent working and tried again, limping to Pearlies door claiming her back was now acting up and her legs weakthough, truth be told, for the first time ever, she actually did start feeling rather rotten herself. Ill wishes can boomerang!
Pearlie prepared some herbs for her, along with detailed instructions. Nettleby, ever persistent, snuck a comb into Pearlies hand as a parting gift, muttering, A girl like you deserves to look her bestnever hurts to pamper a pretty face!
Pearlie thanked her. Granny, your kindness is touchingI hope not a single good word goes to waste!
Time rolled on. Pearlie blossomed into quite the village beautyrosy-cheeked, thick plaits, looking altogether hale and hearty. Meanwhile, Mrs. Nettleby shriveled upher arms like dry twigs, her back hunched for good, and legs as uncooperative as a sleepy cat. She lay in bed groaning, unable to get up, and begged for Pearlies help.
Alice and Beatrice tried to dissuade their younger sister. Dont go, Pearlieshes a witch! Her cottage gives us the heebie-jeebies!
Don’t fret! Pearlie chirped. A good nights sleep never hurt anyone!
Next morning, bright and early, Pearlie washed with fresh water, pulled on her finest dress, and packed a basket with wild honey, apples, and fragrant herbs.
When Alice and Beatrice saw her, they gasped. Pearlie, you look stunning! Is it the new dress, or could it be magic? You dont even seem like our old sister!
Pearlie set off for Granny Nettlebys cottage. But when she reached the gate, it slammed shut by itselfshe couldnt budge it.
Granny! she called. Please let me inyour gate wont open.
Inside the cottage, something strange was afootbangs and clatters from every corner, and a chorus of odd voices cried, Dont let her in! Her goodness wards off cursesillness flees and nasty words go soft!
Pearlie waited and knocked again. Granny, are you alright? I brought you some treats: wild honey, orchard apples, and fresh herbs.
She reached over the gate and set her basket on the path. At that very moment, black smoke billowed from Granny Nettlebys chimneydarker than any the fire brigade had ever seen! A flock of crows shot from the windows, and the whole cottage blackened, as if burned to a crisp.
Villagers came running, grabbing pails of water and shouting, convinced there was a fire. Yet when the first shaft of sunlight peeped through the clouds, the smoke melted away and all that remained of Nettlebys house was a tiny pile of charcoal.
Mrs. Nettleby’s own bitterness did her in! the villagers discerned. All her curses bounced off Pearlies goodness and came straight back at her!
From that day forward, Pearlie was more radiant than ever, and soon enough, she caught the eye of a fine young man from the village. They married and lived in harmony, with Alice and Beatrice as proud as could be.
By the place where Nettlebys house once stoodwhere Pearlie had left her basketan explosion of raspberries soon grew: plump, juicy, and so abundant that the whole village turned out to pick them. Eventually, the place grew so famed for raspberries that everyone began calling it Berry Lane.
And so everyone lived happily, if a little pink around the mouth from all the jam.
