The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep

In a quiet room stood a tall, shiny cabinet made of dark wood. On the little table nearby lived two small porcelain figures. One was a pretty Shepherdess with rosy cheeks, golden shoes, and a tiny lamb at her feet. The other was a cheerful Chimney Sweep with a little ladder and a face as black as soot, though he was porcelain too.

They were very fond of each other. When the house was still, they would stand close and whisper about clouds, and fields, and how nice it was to be side by side.

High on top of the cabinet sat a grand China figure, an old Mandarin who could nod his head. Everyone said he was the Shepherdess’s grandfather. He thought he ruled the room with his nodding.

Carved right into the front of the cabinet was a great big wooden figure with goat legs, a stiff beard, and a proud smile. He called himself the Major‑General‑Field‑Sergeant‑Commander. “I am important,” he liked to say, thumping his wooden chest. “This whole cabinet belongs to me!”

One day the Major‑General peered out from the wood and said, “Little Shepherdess, you shall marry me. The Mandarin on top will nod yes.” The old Mandarin bobbed his head up and down, nod, nod, nod.

The Shepherdess trembled. “I do not want to go into the dark cabinet,” she whispered to the Chimney Sweep. “Please, let us run away.”

“I will go anywhere with you,” said the brave little Sweep.

They climbed down from the table. They tiptoed past the big chair and hurried to the stove. Inside, it was as dark as night. They squeezed up the chimney together—scritch, scratch, scritch—until they reached the roof. The sky was wide, and the stars winked like friendly eyes. Tall chimneys stood like black giants.

“This world is so big,” the Shepherdess said softly. “I am a small porcelain girl. I am afraid I will break.”

“We can go back,” said the Chimney Sweep kindly. “Home is home, if we are together.”

So they climbed carefully down the chimney again and crept back into the quiet room.

But something had happened! The old Mandarin had fallen from the top of the cabinet and lay in three pieces on the floor. Everyone hurried to mend him with glue. Soon he sat up straight again—but now his head was stiff. He could not nod anymore.

The Major‑General stomped and rattled the cabinet doors. “The wedding! The wedding!” he shouted. “Mandarin, nod your yes!”

The Mandarin tried and tried, but his glued neck would not bend. No nods came at all.

“No nod?” said the Shepherdess, very politely. “Then there can be no wedding.”

The Major‑General puffed and huffed. He could not force a nod, and he could not climb out of his carved wood any farther. At last he went quiet, and the cabinet was still.

The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep returned to their little table. They stood side by side once more, happy and safe. The room was just the right size, and the light fell warm and soft around them.

“Do you wish we had stayed on the roof?” the Shepherdess asked.

The Chimney Sweep smiled. “No. The best place is where we are together.”

And from then on, whenever the house was still, the porcelain Shepherdess and the brave Chimney Sweep whispered their small, sweet stories—right there on their little table, safe from the dark cabinet and the proud Major‑General forever.