One day, not long ago, a boy was playing alone in the snow when he became aware of a little old lady sitting on the park bench.
The old lady was huddled in a coat. She wore a pair of mittens, just like his Granny, when she was cold and stoking the fire.
“What are you building there, little boy?” said the old lady.
The boy did not care to answer.
“Your hands must be cold,” she said. “Would you care for a chestnut?”
The old lady had in her mitts a brown paper bag full of chestnuts.
The boy shook his head.
“How wise you are,” she said, “not to accept gifts from strangers.”
The old lady had already consumed several chestnuts when she spoke again. “I think,” said the old lady, “a tunnel will come in handy.”
The boy, like all small children, was curious.
“Why do we need a tunnel?” He asked.
“Ah,” said the old lady. “That would be telling.”
“Why won’t you tell?” said the boy.
“What is your name, little boy?”
The boy who was not sure whether he was going to tell his name put his hand in the bag of chestnuts.
“Why do we need a tunnel?” he asked again.
“I will tell you,” said the old lady, “when you finish it.”
After a while, the old lady got up from the bench. They went down the tunnel together and were never seen again.
*
“I thought the one about the elf was pretty strange, but this is simply horrid.”
“Nonsense, it’s a fantasy story.”
“But she kidnaps the little boy.”
“What if the little boy kidnapped her instead?”
“That would be even more unthinkable.”
“What if he was her grandson?”
“Now you are just being mean.”
“Well,” said Maude, “things are not always as they appear.”
“Especially at this time of night.”