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diff --git a/27903.txt b/27903.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4c7ed0 --- /dev/null +++ b/27903.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7747 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magic World, by Edith Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Magic World + +Author: Edith Nesbit + +Illustrator: H. R. Millar + Spencer Pryse + +Release Date: January 27, 2009 [EBook #27903] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC WORLD *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the boots and +goloshes fell off him like spray off a bather.--P. 24.] + + + + +THE MAGIC WORLD + +BY +E. NESBIT + +AUTHOR OF +'THE TREASURE SEEKERS,' 'THE WONDERFUL GARDEN,' +'THE MAGIC CITY,' ETC. + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY +H. R. MILLAR and SPENCER PRYSE + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED +ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON +1924 + + + + +_First published by Macmillan & Co. 1912_ + + + + +CONTENTS + PAGE + 1. The Cat-hood of Maurice 1 + + 2. The Mixed Mine 27 + + 3. Accidental Magic 58 + + 4. The Princess and the Hedge-pig 96 + + 5. Septimus Septimusson 126 + + 6. The White Cat 148 + + 7. Belinda and Bellamant 160 + + 8. Justnowland 185 + + 9. The Related Muff 206 + + 10. The Aunt and Amabel 218 + + 11. Kenneth and the Carp 233 + + 12. The Magician's Heart 260 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the + boots and goloshes fell off him like spray + off a bather (p. 24) _Frontispiece_ + + FACE PAGE + 'If you think cats have such a jolly time,' + said Lord Hugh, 'why not _be_ a cat?' 7 + + It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed + his terrors 14 + + He landed there on his four padded feet light + as a feather 17 + + When Jane went in to put Mabel's light out, + Maurice crept in too 21 + + Her bow went down suddenly 28 + + 'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed 35 + + Far above him and every one else towered the + elephant 39 + + It became a quite efficient motor 42 + + Quentin de Ward 58 + + It landed on the point of the chin of Smithson + major 67 + + 'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you + by the Sacred Tau!' 79 + + The cart was drawn by an enormous creature, more + like an elephant than anything else 85 + + 'Silence!' cried the priest. 'Chosen of the + Immortals, close your eyes!' 91 + + On the lower terrace the royal nurse was walking + up and down with the baby princess that all the + fuss was about 98 + + Instantly a flight of winged arrows crossed the + garden 109 + + 'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand + spears,' she said, 'to give you what you wish' 123 + + So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and + thought of nothing to say harder than ever 208 + + We scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall 213 + + Sidney threw the rug over her, and rolled her + over and over 215 + + Early next morning he tried to catch fish with + several pieces of string knotted together and + a hairpin 235 + + A radiant vision stepped into the circle of light 241 + + There was a splash 248 + + 'Oh, good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped + at the worm 256 + + + + +I + +THE CAT-HOOD OF MAURICE + + +To have your hair cut is not painful, nor does it hurt to have your +whiskers trimmed. But round wooden shoes, shaped like bowls, are not +comfortable wear, however much it may amuse the onlooker to see you try +to walk in them. If you have a nice fur coat like a company promoter's, +it is most annoying to be made to swim in it. And if you had a tail, +surely it would be solely your own affair; that any one should tie a tin +can to it would strike you as an unwarrantable impertinence--to say the +least. + +Yet it is difficult for an outsider to see these things from the point +of view of both the persons concerned. To Maurice, scissors in hand, +alive and earnest to snip, it seemed the most natural thing in the world +to shorten the stiff whiskers of Lord Hugh Cecil by a generous inch. He +did not understand how useful those whiskers were to Lord Hugh, both in +sport and in the more serious business of getting a living. Also it +amused Maurice to throw Lord Hugh into ponds, though Lord Hugh only +once permitted this liberty. To put walnuts on Lord Hugh's feet and then +to watch him walk on ice was, in Maurice's opinion, as good as a play. +Lord Hugh was a very favourite cat, but Maurice was discreet, and Lord +Hugh, except under violent suffering, was at that time anyhow, dumb. + +But the empty sardine-tin attached to Lord Hugh's tail and hind +legs--this had a voice, and, rattling against stairs, banisters, and the +legs of stricken furniture, it cried aloud for vengeance. Lord Hugh, +suffering violently, added his voice, and this time the family heard. +There was a chase, a chorus of 'Poor pussy!' and 'Pussy, then!' and the +tail and the tin and Lord Hugh were caught under Jane's bed. The tail +and the tin acquiesced in their rescue. Lord Hugh did not. He fought, +scratched, and bit. Jane carried the scars of that rescue for many a +long week. + +When all was calm Maurice was sought and, after some little natural +delay, found--in the boot-cupboard. + +'Oh, Maurice!' his mother almost sobbed, 'how _can_ you? What will your +father say?' + +Maurice thought he knew what his father would do. + +'Don't you know,' the mother went on, 'how wrong it is to be cruel?' + +'I didn't mean to be cruel,' Maurice said. And, what is more, he spoke +the truth. All the unwelcome attentions he had showered on Lord Hugh had +not been exactly intended to hurt that stout veteran--only it was +interesting to see what a cat would do if you threw it in the water, or +cut its whiskers, or tied things to its tail. + +'Oh, but you must have meant to be cruel,' said mother, 'and you will +have to be punished.' + +'I wish I hadn't,' said Maurice, from the heart. + +'So do I,' said his mother, with a sigh; 'but it isn't the first time; +you know you tied Lord Hugh up in a bag with the hedgehog only last +Tuesday week. You'd better go to your room and think it over. I shall +have to tell your father directly he comes home.' + +Maurice went to his room and thought it over. And the more he thought +the more he hated Lord Hugh. Why couldn't the beastly cat have held his +tongue and sat still? That, at the time would have been a +disappointment, but now Maurice wished it had happened. He sat on the +edge of his bed and savagely kicked the edge of the green Kidderminster +carpet, and hated the cat. + +He hadn't meant to be cruel; he was sure he hadn't; he wouldn't have +pinched the cat's feet or squeezed its tail in the door, or pulled its +whiskers, or poured hot water on it. He felt himself ill-used, and knew +that he would feel still more so after the inevitable interview with his +father. + +But that interview did not take the immediately painful form expected by +Maurice. His father did _not_ say, 'Now I will show you what it feels +like to be hurt.' Maurice had braced himself for that, and was looking +beyond it to the calm of forgiveness which should follow the storm in +which he should so unwillingly take part. No; his father was already +calm and reasonable--with a dreadful calm, a terrifying reason. + +'Look here, my boy,' he said. 'This cruelty to dumb animals must be +checked--severely checked.' + +'I didn't mean to be cruel,' said Maurice. + +'Evil,' said Mr. Basingstoke, for such was Maurice's surname, 'is +wrought by want of thought as well as want of heart. What about your +putting the hen in the oven?' + +'You know,' said Maurice, pale but determined, 'you _know_ I only wanted +to help her to get her eggs hatched quickly. It says in "Fowls for Food +and Fancy" that heat hatches eggs.' + +'But she hadn't any eggs,' said Mr. Basingstoke. + +'But she soon would have,' urged Maurice. 'I thought a stitch in +time----' + +'That,' said his father, 'is the sort of thing that you must learn not +to think.' + +'I'll try,' said Maurice, miserably hoping for the best. + +'I intend that you shall,' said Mr. Basingstoke. 'This afternoon you go +to Dr. Strongitharm's for the remaining week of term. If I find any more +cruelty taking place during the holidays you will go there permanently. +You can go and get ready.' + +'Oh, father, _please_ not,' was all Maurice found to say. + +'I'm sorry, my boy,' said his father, much more kindly; 'it's all for +your own good, and it's as painful to me as it is to you--remember that. +The cab will be here at four. Go and put your things together, and Jane +shall pack for you.' + +So the box was packed. Mabel, Maurice's kiddy sister, cried over +everything as it was put in. It was a very wet day. + +'If it had been any school but old Strong's,' she sobbed. + +She and her brother knew that school well: its windows, dulled with wire +blinds, its big alarm bell, the high walls of its grounds, bristling +with spikes, the iron gates, always locked, through which gloomy boys, +imprisoned, scowled on a free world. Dr. Strongitharm's was a school +'for backward and difficult boys.' Need I say more? + +Well, there was no help for it. The box was packed, the cab was at the +door. The farewells had been said. Maurice determined that he wouldn't +cry and he didn't, which gave him the one touch of pride and joy that +such a scene could yield. Then at the last moment, just as father had +one leg in the cab, the Taxes called. Father went back into the house to +write a cheque. Mother and Mabel had retired in tears. Maurice used the +reprieve to go back after his postage-stamp album. Already he was +planning how to impress the other boys at old Strong's, and his was +really a very fair collection. He ran up into the schoolroom, expecting +to find it empty. But some one was there: Lord Hugh, in the very middle +of the ink-stained table-cloth. + +'You brute,' said Maurice; 'you know jolly well I'm going away, or you +wouldn't be here.' And, indeed, the room had never, somehow, been a +favourite of Lord Hugh's. + +'Meaow,' said Lord Hugh. + +[Illustration: 'If you think cats have such a jolly time,' said Lord +Hugh, 'why not _be_ a cat?'] + +'Mew!' said Maurice, with scorn. 'That's what you always say. All that +fuss about a jolly little sardine-tin. Any one would have thought you'd +be only too glad to have it to play with. I wonder how you'd like being +a boy? Lickings, and lessons, and impots, and sent back from breakfast +to wash your ears. You wash yours anywhere--I wonder what they'd say to +me if I washed my ears on the drawing-room hearthrug?' + +'Meaow,' said Lord Hugh, and washed an ear, as though he were showing +off. + +'Mew,' said Maurice again; 'that's all you can say.' + +'Oh, no, it isn't,' said Lord Hugh, and stopped his ear-washing. + +'I say!' said Maurice in awestruck tones. + +'If you think cats have such a jolly time,' said Lord Hugh, 'why not +_be_ a cat?' + +'I would if I could,' said Maurice, 'and fight you----' + +'Thank you,' said Lord Hugh. + +'But I can't,' said Maurice. + +'Oh, yes, you can,' said Lord Hugh. 'You've only got to say the word.' + +'What word?' + +Lord Hugh told him the word; but I will not tell you, for fear you +should say it by accident and then be sorry. + +'And if I say that, I shall turn into a cat?' + +'Of course,' said the cat. + +'Oh, yes, I see,' said Maurice. 'But I'm not taking any, thanks. I don't +want to be a cat for always.' + +'You needn't,' said Lord Hugh. 'You've only got to get some one to say +to you, "Please leave off being a cat and be Maurice again," and there +you are.' + +Maurice thought of Dr. Strongitharm's. He also thought of the horror of +his father when he should find Maurice gone, vanished, not to be traced. +'He'll be sorry, then,' Maurice told himself, and to the cat he said, +suddenly:-- + +'Right--I'll do it. What's the word, again?' + +'----,' said the cat. + +'----,' said Maurice; and suddenly the table shot up to the height of a +house, the walls to the height of tenement buildings, the pattern on the +carpet became enormous, and Maurice found himself on all fours. He tried +to stand up on his feet, but his shoulders were oddly heavy. He could +only rear himself upright for a moment, and then fell heavily on his +hands. He looked down at them; they seemed to have grown shorter and +fatter, and were encased in black fur gloves. He felt a desire to walk +on all fours--tried it--did it. It was very odd--the movement of the +arms straight from the shoulder, more like the movement of the piston of +an engine than anything Maurice could think of at that moment. + +'I am asleep,' said Maurice--'I am dreaming this. I am dreaming I am a +cat. I hope I dreamed that about the sardine-tin and Lord Hugh's tail, +and Dr. Strong's.' + +'You didn't,' said a voice he knew and yet didn't know, 'and you aren't +dreaming this.' + +'Yes, I am,' said Maurice; 'and now I'm going to dream that I fight that +beastly black cat, and give him the best licking he ever had in his +life. Come on, Lord Hugh.' + +A loud laugh answered him. + +'Excuse my smiling,' said the voice he knew and didn't know, 'but don't +you see--you _are_ Lord Hugh!' + +A great hand picked Maurice up from the floor and held him in the air. +He felt the position to be not only undignified but unsafe, and gave +himself a shake of mingled relief and resentment when the hand set him +down on the inky table-cloth. + +'You are Lord Hugh now, my dear Maurice,' said the voice, and a huge +face came quite close to his. It was his own face, as it would have +seemed through a magnifying glass. And the voice--oh, horror!--the +voice was his own voice--Maurice Basingstoke's voice. Maurice shrank +from the voice, and he would have liked to claw the face, but he had had +no practice. + +'You are Lord Hugh,' the voice repeated, 'and I am Maurice. I like being +Maurice. I am so large and strong. I could drown you in the water-butt, +my poor cat--oh, so easily. No, don't spit and swear. It's bad +manners--even in a cat.' + +'Maurice!' shouted Mr. Basingstoke from between the door and the cab. + +Maurice, from habit, leaped towards the door. + +'It's no use _your_ going,' said the thing that looked like a giant +reflection of Maurice; 'it's _me_ he wants.' + +'But I didn't agree to your being me.' + +'That's poetry, even if it isn't grammar,' said the thing that looked +like Maurice. 'Why, my good cat, don't you see that if you are I, I must +be you? Otherwise we should interfere with time and space, upset the +balance of power, and as likely as not destroy the solar system. Oh, +yes--I'm you, right enough, and shall be, till some one tells you to +change from Lord Hugh into Maurice. And now you've got to find some one +to do it.' + +('Maurice!' thundered the voice of Mr. Basingstoke.) + +'That'll be easy enough,' said Maurice. + +'Think so?' said the other. + +'But I sha'n't try yet. I want to have some fun first. I shall catch +heaps of mice!' + +'Think so? You forget that your whiskers are cut off--Maurice cut them. +Without whiskers, how can you judge of the width of the places you go +through? Take care you don't get stuck in a hole that you can't get out +of or go in through, my good cat.' + +'Don't call me a cat,' said Maurice, and felt that his tail was growing +thick and angry. + +'You _are_ a cat, you know--and that little bit of temper that I see in +your tail reminds me----' + +Maurice felt himself gripped round the middle, abruptly lifted, and +carried swiftly through the air. The quickness of the movement made him +giddy. The light went so quickly past him that it might as well have +been darkness. He saw nothing, felt nothing, except a sort of long +sea-sickness, and then suddenly he was not being moved. He could see +now. He could feel. He was being held tight in a sort of vice--a vice +covered with chequered cloth. It looked like the pattern, very much +exaggerated, of his school knickerbockers. It _was_. He was being held +between the hard, relentless knees of that creature that had once been +Lord Hugh, and to whose tail he had tied a sardine-tin. Now _he_ was +Lord Hugh, and something was being tied to _his_ tail. Something +mysterious, terrible. Very well, he would show that he was not afraid of +anything that could be attached to tails. The string rubbed his fur the +wrong way--it was that that annoyed him, not the string itself; and as +for what was at the end of the string, what _could_ that matter to any +sensible cat? Maurice was quite decided that he was--and would keep on +being--a sensible cat. + +The string, however, and the uncomfortable, tight position between those +chequered knees--something or other was getting on his nerves. + +'Maurice!' shouted his father below, and the be-catted Maurice bounded +between the knees of the creature that wore his clothes and his looks. + +'Coming, father,' this thing called, and sped away, leaving Maurice on +the servant's bed--under which Lord Hugh had taken refuge, with his +tin-can, so short and yet so long a time ago. The stairs re-echoed to +the loud boots which Maurice had never before thought loud; he had +often, indeed, wondered that any one could object to them. He wondered +now no longer. + +He heard the front door slam. That thing had gone to Dr. +Strongitharm's. That was one comfort. Lord Hugh was a boy now; he would +know what it was to be a boy. He, Maurice, was a cat, and he meant to +taste fully all catty pleasures, from milk to mice. Meanwhile he was +without mice or milk, and, unaccustomed as he was to a tail, he could +not but feel that all was not right with his own. There was a feeling of +weight, a feeling of discomfort, of positive terror. If he should move, +what would that thing that was tied to his tail do? Rattle, of course. +Oh, but he could not bear it if that thing rattled. Nonsense; it was +only a sardine-tin. Yes, Maurice knew that. But all the same--if it did +rattle! He moved his tail the least little soft inch. No sound. Perhaps +really there wasn't anything tied to his tail. But he couldn't be sure +unless he moved. But if he moved the thing would rattle, and if it +rattled Maurice felt sure that he would expire or go mad. A mad cat. +What a dreadful thing to be! Yet he couldn't sit on that bed for ever, +waiting, waiting, waiting for the dreadful thing to happen. + +'Oh, dear,' sighed Maurice the cat. 'I never knew what people meant by +"afraid" before.' + +His cat-heart was beating heavily against his furry side. His limbs were +getting cramped--he must move. He did. And instantly the awful thing +happened. The sardine-tin touched the iron of the bed-foot. It rattled. + +'Oh, I can't bear it, I can't,' cried poor Maurice, in a heartrending +meaow that echoed through the house. He leaped from the bed and tore +through the door and down the stairs, and behind him came the most +terrible thing in the world. People might call it a sardine-tin, but he +knew better. It was the soul of all the fear that ever had been or ever +could be. _It rattled._ + +Maurice who was a cat flew down the stairs; down, down--the rattling +horror followed. Oh, horrible! Down, down! At the foot of the stairs the +horror, caught by something--a banister--a stair-rod--stopped. The +string on Maurice's tail tightened, his tail was jerked, he was stopped. +But the noise had stopped too. Maurice lay only just alive at the foot +of the stairs. + +It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his terrors with +strokings and tender love-words. Maurice was surprised to find what a +nice little girl his sister really was. + +'I'll never tease you again,' he tried to say, softly--but that was not +what he said. What he said was 'Purrrr.' + +[Illustration: It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his +terrors.] + +'Dear pussy, nice poor pussy, then,' said Mabel, and she hid away the +sardine-tin and did not tell any one. This seemed unjust to Maurice +until he remembered that, of course, Mabel thought that he was really +Lord Hugh, and that the person who had tied the tin to his tail was her +brother Maurice. Then he was half grateful. She carried him down, in +soft, safe arms, to the kitchen, and asked cook to give him some milk. + +'Tell me to change back into Maurice,' said Maurice who was quite worn +out by his cattish experiences. But no one heard him. What they heard +was, 'Meaow--Meaow--Meeeaow!' + +Then Maurice saw how he had been tricked. He could be changed back into +a boy as soon as any one said to him, 'Leave off being a cat and be +Maurice again,' but his tongue had no longer the power to ask any one to +say it. + +He did not sleep well that night. For one thing he was not accustomed to +sleeping on the kitchen hearthrug, and the blackbeetles were too many +and too cordial. He was glad when cook came down and turned him out into +the garden, where the October frost still lay white on the yellowed +stalks of sunflowers and nasturtiums. He took a walk, climbed a tree, +failed to catch a bird, and felt better. He began also to feel hungry. +A delicious scent came stealing out of the back kitchen door. Oh, joy, +there were to be herrings for breakfast! Maurice hastened in and took +his place on his usual chair. + +His mother said, 'Down, puss,' and gently tilted the chair so that +Maurice fell off it. Then the family had herrings. Maurice said, 'You +might give me some,' and he said it so often that his father, who, of +course, heard only mewings, said:-- + +'For goodness' sake put that cat out of the room.' + +Maurice breakfasted later, in the dust-bin, on herring heads. + +But he kept himself up with a new and splendid idea. They would give him +milk presently, and then they should see. + +He spent the afternoon sitting on the sofa in the dining-room, listening +to the conversation of his father and mother. It is said that listeners +never hear any good of themselves. Maurice heard so much that he was +surprised and humbled. He heard his father say that he was a fine, +plucky little chap, but he needed a severe lesson, and Dr. Strongitharm +was the man to give it to him. He heard his mother say things that made +his heart throb in his throat and the tears prick behind those green +cat-eyes of his. He had always thought his parents a little bit unjust. +Now they did him so much more than justice that he felt quite small and +mean inside his cat-skin. + +[Illustration: He landed there on his four padded feet light as a +feather.] + +'He's a dear, good, affectionate boy,' said mother. 'It's only his high +spirits. Don't you think, darling, perhaps you were a little hard on +him?' + +'It was for his own good,' said father. + +'Of course,' said mother; 'but I can't bear to think of him at that +dreadful school.' + +'Well----,' father was beginning, when Jane came in with the tea-things +on a clattering tray, whose sound made Maurice tremble in every leg. +Father and mother began to talk about the weather. + +Maurice felt very affectionately to both his parents. The natural way of +showing this was to jump on to the sideboard and thence on to his +father's shoulders. He landed there on his four padded feet, light as a +feather, but father was not pleased. + +'Bother the cat!' he cried. 'Jane, put it out of the room.' + +Maurice was put out. His great idea, which was to be carried out with +milk, would certainly not be carried out in the dining-room. He sought +the kitchen, and, seeing a milk-can on the window-ledge, jumped up +beside the can and patted it as he had seen Lord Hugh do. + +'My!' said a friend of Jane's who happened to be there, 'ain't that cat +clever--a perfect moral, I call her.' + +'He's nothing to boast of this time,' said cook. 'I will say for Lord +Hugh he's not often taken in with a empty can.' + +This was naturally mortifying for Maurice, but he pretended not to hear, +and jumped from the window to the tea-table and patted the milk-jug. + +'Come,' said the cook, 'that's more like it,' and she poured him out a +full saucer and set it on the floor. + +Now was the chance Maurice had longed for. Now he could carry out that +idea of his. He was very thirsty, for he had had nothing since that +delicious breakfast in the dust-bin. But not for worlds would he have +drunk the milk. No. He carefully dipped his right paw in it, for his +idea was to make letters with it on the kitchen oil-cloth. He meant to +write: 'Please tell me to leave off being a cat and be Maurice again,' +but he found his paw a very clumsy pen, and he had to rub out the first +'P' because it only looked like an accident. Then he tried again and +actually did make a 'P' that any fair-minded person could have read +quite easily. + +'I wish they'd notice,' he said, and before he got the 'l' written they +did notice. + +'Drat the cat,' said cook; 'look how he's messing the floor up.' + +And she took away the milk. + +Maurice put pride aside and mewed to have the milk put down again. But +he did not get it. + +Very weary, very thirsty, and very tired of being Lord Hugh, he +presently found his way to the schoolroom, where Mabel with patient toil +was doing her home-lessons. She took him on her lap and stroked him +while she learned her French verb. He felt that he was growing very fond +of her. People were quite right to be kind to dumb animals. Presently +she had to stop stroking him and do a map. And after that she kissed him +and put him down and went away. All the time she had been doing the map, +Maurice had had but one thought: _Ink!_ + +The moment the door had closed behind her--how sensible people were who +closed doors gently--he stood up in her chair with one paw on the map +and the other on the ink. Unfortunately, the inkstand top was made to +dip pens in, and not to dip paws. But Maurice was desperate. He +deliberately upset the ink--most of it rolled over the table-cloth and +fell pattering on the carpet, but with what was left he wrote quite +plainly, across the map:-- + + 'Please tell Lord Hugh + to stop being + a cat and be Mau + rice again.' + +'There!' he said; 'they can't make any mistake about that.' They didn't. +But they made a mistake about who had done it, and Mabel was deprived of +jam with her supper bread. + +Her assurance that some naughty boy must have come through the window +and done it while she was not there convinced nobody, and, indeed, the +window was shut and bolted. + +Maurice, wild with indignation, did not mend matters by seizing the +opportunity of a few minutes' solitude to write:-- + + 'It was not Mabel + it was Maur + ice I mean Lord Hugh,' + +because when that was seen Mabel was instantly sent to bed. + +'It's not fair!' cried Maurice. + +'My dear,' said Maurice's father, 'if that cat goes on mewing to this +extent you'll have to get rid of it.' + +[Illustration: When Jane went in to put Mabel's light out Maurice crept +in too.] + +Maurice said not another word. It was bad enough to be a cat, but to be +a cat that was 'got rid of'! He knew how people got rid of cats. In a +stricken silence he left the room and slunk up the stairs--he dared not +mew again, even at the door of Mabel's room. But when Jane went in to +put Mabel's light out Maurice crept in too, and in the dark tried with +stifled mews and purrs to explain to Mabel how sorry he was. Mabel +stroked him and he went to sleep, his last waking thought amazement at +the blindness that had once made him call her a silly little kid. + +If you have ever been a cat you will understand something of what +Maurice endured during the dreadful days that followed. If you have not, +I can never make you understand fully. There was the affair of the +fishmonger's tray balanced on the wall by the back door--the delicious +curled-up whiting; Maurice knew as well as you do that one mustn't steal +fish out of other people's trays, but the cat that he was didn't know. +There was an inward struggle--and Maurice was beaten by the cat-nature. +Later he was beaten by the cook. + +Then there was that very painful incident with the butcher's dog, the +flight across gardens, the safety of the plum tree gained only just in +time. + +And, worst of all, despair took hold of him, for he saw that nothing he +could do would make any one say those simple words that would release +him. He had hoped that Mabel might at last be made to understand, but +the ink had failed him; she did not understand his subdued mewings, and +when he got the cardboard letters and made the same sentence with them +Mabel only thought it was that naughty boy who came through locked +windows. Somehow he could not spell before any one--his nerves were not +what they had been. His brain now gave him no new ideas. He felt that he +was really growing like a cat in his mind. His interest in his meals +grew beyond even what it had been when they were a schoolboy's meals. He +hunted mice with growing enthusiasm, though the loss of his whiskers to +measure narrow places with made hunting difficult. + +He grew expert in bird-stalking, and often got quite near to a bird +before it flew away, laughing at him. But all the time, in his heart, he +was very, very miserable. And so the week went by. + +Maurice in his cat shape dreaded more and more the time when Lord Hugh +in the boy shape should come back from Dr. Strongitharm's. He knew--who +better?--exactly the kind of things boys do to cats, and he trembled to +the end of his handsome half-Persian tail. + +And then the boy came home from Dr. Strongitharm's, and at the first +sound of his boots in the hall Maurice in the cat's body fled with +silent haste to hide in the boot-cupboard. + +Here, ten minutes later, the boy that had come back from Dr. +Strongitharm's found him. + +Maurice fluffed up his tail and unsheathed his claws. Whatever this boy +was going to do to him Maurice meant to resist, and his resistance +should hurt the boy as much as possible. I am sorry to say Maurice swore +softly among the boots, but cat-swearing is not really wrong. + +'Come out, you old duffer,' said Lord Hugh in the boy shape of Maurice. +'I'm not going to hurt you.' + +'I'll see to that,' said Maurice, backing into the corner, all teeth and +claws. + +'Oh, I've had such a time!' said Lord Hugh. 'It's no use, you know, old +chap; I can see where you are by your green eyes. My word, they do +shine. I've been caned and shut up in a dark room and given thousands of +lines to write out.' + +'I've been beaten, too, if you come to that,' mewed Maurice. 'Besides +the butcher's dog.' + +It was an intense relief to speak to some one who could understand his +mews. + +'Well, I suppose it's Pax for the future,' said Lord Hugh; 'if you +won't come out, you won't. Please leave off being a cat and be Maurice +again.' + +And instantly Maurice, amid a heap of goloshes and old tennis bats, felt +with a swelling heart that he was no longer a cat. No more of those +undignified four legs, those tiresome pointed ears, so difficult to +wash, that furry coat, that contemptible tail, and that terrible +inability to express all one's feelings in two words--'mew' and 'purr.' + +He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the boots and goloshes fell off +him like spray off a bather. + +He stood upright in those very chequered knickerbockers that were so +terrible when their knees held one vice-like, while things were tied to +one's tail. He was face to face with another boy, exactly like himself. + +'_You_ haven't changed, then--but there can't be two Maurices.' + +'There sha'n't be; not if I know it,' said the other boy; 'a boy's +life's a dog's life. Quick, before any one comes.' + +'Quick what?' asked Maurice. + +'Why tell me to leave off being a boy, and to be Lord Hugh Cecil again.' + +Maurice told him at once. And at once the boy was gone, and there was +Lord Hugh in his own shape, purring politely, yet with a watchful eye +on Maurice's movements. + +'Oh, you needn't be afraid, old chap. It's Pax right enough,' Maurice +murmured in the ear of Lord Hugh. And Lord Hugh, arching his back under +Maurice's stroking hand, replied with a purrrr-meaow that spoke volumes. + +'Oh, Maurice, here you are. It _is_ nice of you to be nice to Lord Hugh, +when it was because of him you----' + +'He's a good old chap,' said Maurice, carelessly. 'And you're not half a +bad old girl. See?' + +Mabel almost wept for joy at this magnificent compliment, and Lord Hugh +himself took on a more happy and confident air. + +Please dismiss any fears which you may entertain that after this Maurice +became a model boy. He didn't. But he was much nicer than before. The +conversation which he overheard when he was a cat makes him more patient +with his father and mother. And he is almost always nice to Mabel, for +he cannot forget all that she was to him when he wore the shape of Lord +Hugh. His father attributes all the improvement in his son's character +to that week at Dr. Strongitharm's--which, as you know, Maurice never +had. Lord Hugh's character is unchanged. Cats learn slowly and with +difficulty. + +Only Maurice and Lord Hugh know the truth--Maurice has never told it to +any one except me, and Lord Hugh is a very reserved cat. He never at +any time had that free flow of mew which distinguished and endangered +the cat-hood of Maurice. + + + + +II + +THE MIXED MINE + + +The ship was first sighted off Dungeness. She was labouring heavily. Her +paint was peculiar and her rig outlandish. She looked like a golden ship +out of a painted picture. + +'Blessed if I ever see such a rig--nor such lines neither,' old +Hawkhurst said. + +It was a late afternoon, wild and grey. Slate-coloured clouds drove +across the sky like flocks of hurried camels. The waves were purple and +blue, and in the west a streak of unnatural-looking green light was all +that stood for the splendours of sunset. + +'She do be a rum 'un,' said young Benenden, who had strolled along the +beach with the glasses the gentleman gave him for saving the little boy +from drowning. 'Don't know as I ever see another just like her.' + +'I'd give half a dollar to any chap as can tell me where she hails +from--and what port it is where they has ships o' that cut,' said +middle-aged Haversham to the group that had now gathered. + +'George!' exclaimed young Benenden from under his field-glasses, 'she's +going.' And she went. Her bow went down suddenly and she stood stern up +in the water--like a duck after rain. Then quite slowly, with no +unseemly hurry, but with no moment's change of what seemed to be her +fixed purpose, the ship sank and the grey rolling waves wiped out the +place where she had been. + +Now I hope you will not expect me to tell you anything more about this +ship--because there is nothing more to tell. What country she came from, +what port she was bound for, what cargo she carried, and what kind of +tongue her crew spoke--all these things are dead secrets. And a dead +secret is a secret that nobody knows. No other secrets are dead secrets. +Even I do not know this one, or I would tell you at once. For I, at +least, have no secrets from you. + +[Illustration: Her bow went down suddenly.] + +When ships go down off Dungeness, things from them have a way of being +washed up on the sands of that bay which curves from Dungeness to +Folkestone, where the sea has bitten a piece out of the land--just such +a half-moon-shaped piece as you bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter. +Bits of wood tangled with ropes--broken furniture--ships' biscuits in +barrels and kegs that have held brandy--seamen's chests--and sometimes +sadder things that we will not talk about just now. + +Now, if you live by the sea and are grown-up you know that if you find +anything on the seashore (I don't mean starfish or razor-shells or +jellyfish and sea-mice, but anything out of a ship that you would really +like to keep) your duty is to take it up to the coast-guard and say, +'Please, I've found this.' Then the coast-guard will send it to the +proper authority, and one of these days you'll get a reward of one-third +of the value of whatever it was that you picked up. But two-thirds of +the value of anything, or even three-thirds of its value, is not at all +the same thing as the thing itself--if it happened to be the kind of +thing you want. But if you are not grown-up and do not live by the sea, +but in a nice little villa in a nice little suburb, where all the +furniture is new and the servants wear white aprons and white caps with +long strings in the afternoon, then you won't know anything about your +duty, and if you find anything by the sea you'll think that findings are +keepings. + +Edward was not grown-up--and he kept everything he found, including +sea-mice, till the landlady of the lodgings where his aunt was threw his +collection into the pig-pail. + +Being a quiet and persevering little boy he did not cry or complain, +but having meekly followed his treasures to their long home--the pig +was six feet from nose to tail, and ate the dead sea-mouse as easily +and happily as your father eats an oyster--he started out to make a new +collection. + +And the first thing he found was an oyster-shell that was pink and green +and blue inside, and the second was an old boot--very old indeed--and +the third was _it_. + +It was a square case of old leather embossed with odd little figures of +men and animals and words that Edward could not read. It was oblong and +had no key, but a sort of leather hasp, and was curiously knotted with +string--rather like a boot-lace. And Edward opened it. There were +several things inside: queer-looking instruments, some rather like those +in the little box of mathematical instruments that he had had as a prize +at school, and some like nothing he had ever seen before. And in a deep +groove of the russet soaked velvet lining lay a neat little brass +telescope. + +T-squares and set-squares and so forth are of little use on a sandy +shore. But you can always look through a telescope. + +Edward picked it out and put it to his eye, and tried to see through it +a little tug that was sturdily puffing up Channel. He failed to find the +tug, and found himself gazing at a little cloud on the horizon. As he +looked it grew larger and darker, and presently a spot of rain fell on +his nose. He rubbed it off--on his jersey sleeve, I am sorry to say, and +not on his handkerchief. Then he looked through the glass again; but he +found he needed both hands to keep it steady, so he set down the box +with the other instruments on the sand at his feet and put the glass to +his eye again. + +He never saw the box again. For in his unpractised efforts to cover the +tug with his glass he found himself looking at the shore instead of at +the sea, and the shore looked so odd that he could not make up his mind +to stop looking at it. + +He had thought it was a sandy shore, but almost at once he saw that it +was not sand but fine shingle, and the discovery of this mistake +surprised him so much that he kept on looking at the shingle through the +little telescope, which showed it quite plainly. And as he looked the +shingle grew coarser; it was stones now--quite decent-sized stones, +large stones, enormous stones. + +Something hard pressed against his foot, and he lowered the glass. + +He was surrounded by big stones, and they all seemed to be moving; some +were tumbling off others that lay in heaps below them, and others were +rolling away from the beach in every direction. And the place where he +had put down the box was covered with great stones which he could not +move. + +Edward was very much upset. He had never been accustomed to great stones +that moved about when no one was touching them, and he looked round for +some one to ask how it had happened. + +The only person in sight was another boy in a blue jersey with red +letters on its chest. + +'Hi!' said Edward, and the boy also said 'Hi!' + +'Come along here,' said Edward, 'and I'll show you something.' + +'Right-o!' the boy remarked, and came. + +The boy was staying at the camp where the white tents were below the +Grand Redoubt. His home was quite unlike Edward's, though he also lived +with his aunt. The boy's home was very dirty and very small, and nothing +in it was ever in its right place. There was no furniture to speak of. +The servants did not wear white caps with long streamers, because there +were no servants. His uncle was a dock-labourer and his aunt went out +washing. But he had felt just the same pleasure in being shown things +that Edward or you or I might have felt, and he went climbing over the +big stones to where Edward stood waiting for him in a sort of pit among +the stones with the little telescope in his hand. + +'I say,' said Edward, 'did you see any one move these stones?' + +'I ain't only just come up on to the sea-wall,' said the boy, who was +called Gustus. + +'They all came round me,' said Edward, rather pale. 'I didn't see any +one shoving them.' + +'Who're you a-kiddin' of?' the boy inquired. + +'But I _did_,' said Edward, 'honour bright I did. I was just taking a +squint through this little telescope I've found--and they came rolling +up to me.' + +'Let's see what you found,' said Gustus, and Edward gave him the glass. +He directed it with inexpert fingers to the sea-wall, so little trodden +that on it the grass grows, and the sea-pinks, and even convolvulus and +mock-strawberry. + +'Oh, look!' cried Edward, very loud. 'Look at the grass!' + +Gustus let the glass fall to long arm's length and said 'Krikey!' + +The grass and flowers on the sea-wall had grown a foot and a +half--quite tropical they looked. + +'Well?' said Edward. + +'What's the matter wiv everyfink?' said Gustus. 'We must both be a bit +balmy, seems ter me.' + +'What's balmy?' asked Edward. + +'Off your chump--looney--like what you and me is,' said Gustus. 'First I +sees things, then I sees you.' + +'It was only fancy, I expect,' said Edward. 'I expect the grass on the +sea-wall was always like that, really.' + +'Let's have a look through your spy-glass at that little barge,' said +Gustus, still holding the glass. 'Come on outer these 'ere +paving-stones.' + +'There was a box,' said Edward, 'a box I found with lots of jolly things +in it. I laid it down somewhere--and----' + +'Ain't that it over there?' Gustus asked, and levelled the glass at a +dark object a hundred yards away. 'No; it's only an old boot. I say, +this is a fine spy-glass. It does make things come big.' + +'That's not it. I'm certain I put it down somewhere just here. Oh, +_don't_!' + +[Illustration: 'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed.] + +He snatched the glass from Gustus. + +'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed. + +A hundred yards away stood a boot about as big as the bath you see Marat +in at Madame Tussaud's. + +'S'welp me,' said Gustus, 'we're asleep, both of us, and a-dreaming as +things grow while we look at them.' + +'But we're not dreaming,' Edward objected. 'You let me pinch you and +you'll see.' + +'No fun in that,' said Gustus. 'Tell you what--it's the +spy-glass--that's what it is. Ever see any conjuring? I see a chap at +the Mile End Empire what made things turn into things like winking. It's +the spy-glass, that's what it is.' + +'It can't be,' said the little boy who lived in a villa. + +'But it _is_,' said the little boy who lived in a slum. 'Teacher says +there ain't no bounds to the wonders of science. Blest if this ain't one +of 'em.' + +'Let me look,' said Edward. + +'All right; only you mark me. Whatever you sets eyes on'll grow and +grow--like the flower-tree the conjurer had under the wipe. Don't you +look at _me_, that's all. Hold on; I'll put something up for you to look +at--a mark like--something as doesn't matter.' + +He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a boot-lace. + +'I hold this up,' he said, 'and you look.' + +Next moment he had dropped the boot-lace, which, swollen as it was with +the magic of the glass, lay like a snake on the stone at his feet. + +So the glass _was_ a magic glass, as, of course, you know already. + +'My!' said Gustus, 'wouldn't I like to look at my victuals through that +there!' + + * * * * * + +Thus we find Edward, of the villa--and through him Gustus, of the +slum--in possession of a unique instrument of magic. What could they do +with it? + +This was the question which they talked over every time they met, and +they met continually. Edward's aunt, who at home watched him as cats +watch mice, rashly believed that at the seaside there was no mischief +for a boy to get into. And the gentleman who commanded the tented camp +believed in the ennobling effects of liberty. + +After the boot, neither had dared to look at anything through the +telescope--and so they looked _at_ it, and polished it on their sleeves +till it shone again. + +Both were agreed that it would be a fine thing to get some money and +look at it, so that it would grow big. But Gustus never had any +pocket-money, and Edward had had his confiscated to pay for a window he +had not intended to break. + +Gustus felt certain that some one would find out about the spy-glass and +take it away from them. His experience was that anything you happened to +like was always taken away. Edward knew that his aunt would want to take +the telescope away to 'take care of' for him. This had already happened +with the carved chessmen that his father had sent him from India. + +'I been thinking,' said Gustus, on the third day. 'When I'm a man I'm +a-going to be a burglar. You has to use your headpiece in that trade, I +tell you. So I don't think thinking's swipes, like some blokes do. And I +think p'r'aps it don't turn everything big. An' if we could find out +what it don't turn big we could see what we wanted to turn big or what +it didn't turn big, and then it wouldn't turn anything big except what +we wanted it to. See?' + +Edward did not see; and I don't suppose you do, either. + +So Gustus went on to explain that teacher had told him there were some +substances impervious to light, and some to cold, and so on and so +forth, and that what they wanted was a substance that should be +impervious to the magic effects of the spy-glass. + +'So if we get a tanner and set it on a plate and squint at it it'll get +bigger--but so'll the plate. And we don't want to litter the place up +with plates the bigness of cartwheels. But if the plate didn't get big +we could look at the tanner till it covered the plate, and then go on +looking and looking and looking and see nothing but the tanner till it +was as big as a circus. See?' + +This time Edward did see. But they got no further, because it was time +to go to the circus. There was a circus at Dymchurch just then, and that +was what made Gustus think of the sixpence growing to that size. + +It was a very nice circus, and all the boys from the camp went to +it--also Edward, who managed to scramble over and wriggle under benches +till he was sitting near his friend. + +[Illustration: Far above him and every one else towered the elephant.] + +It was the size of the elephant that did it. Edward had not seen an +elephant before, and when he saw it, instead of saying, 'What a size he +is!' as everybody else did, he said to himself, 'What a size I could +make him!' and pulled out the spy-glass, and by a miracle of good luck +or bad got it levelled at the elephant as it went by. He turned the +glass slowly--as it went out--and the elephant only just got out in +time. Another moment and it would have been too big to get through the +door. The audience cheered madly. They thought it was a clever trick; +and so it would have been, very clever. + +'You silly cuckoo,' said Gustus, bitterly, 'now you've turned that +great thing loose on the country, and how's his keeper to manage him?' + +'I could make the keeper big, too.' + +'Then if I was you I should just bunk out and do it.' + +Edward obeyed, slipped under the canvas of the circus tent, and found +himself on the yellow, trampled grass of the field among guy-ropes, +orange-peel, banana-skins, and dirty paper. Far above him and every one +else towered the elephant--it was now as big as the church. + +Edward pointed the glass at the man who was patting the elephant's +foot--that was as far up as he could reach--and telling it to 'Come down +with you!' He was very much frightened. He did not know whether you +could be put in prison for making an elephant's keeper about forty times +his proper size. But he felt that something must be done to control the +gigantic mountain of black-lead-coloured living flesh. So he looked at +the keeper through the spy-glass, and the keeper remained his normal +size! + +In the shock of this failure he dropped the spy-glass, picked it up, and +tried once more to fix the keeper. Instead he only got a circle of +black-lead-coloured elephant; and while he was trying to find the +keeper, and finding nothing but more and more of the elephant, a shout +startled him and he dropped the glass once more. He was a very clumsy +little boy, was Edward. + +'Well,' said one of the men, 'what a turn it give me! I thought Jumbo'd +grown as big as a railway station, s'welp me if I didn't.' + +'Now that's rum,' said another, 'so did I.' + +'And he _ain't_,' said a third; 'seems to me he's a bit below his usual +figure. Got a bit thin or somethink, ain't he?' + +Edward slipped back into the tent unobserved. + +'It's all right,' he whispered to his friend, 'he's gone back to his +proper size, and the man didn't change at all.' + +'Ho!' Gustus said slowly--'Ho! All right. Conjuring's a rum thing. You +don't never know where you are!' + +'Don't you think you might as well be a conjurer as a burglar?' +suggested Edward, who had had his friend's criminal future rather +painfully on his mind for the last hour. + +'_You_ might,' said Gustus, 'not me. My people ain't dooks to set me up +on any such a swell lay as conjuring. Now I'm going to think, I am. You +hold your jaw and look at the 'andsome Dona a-doin' of 'er griceful +barebacked hact.' + +That evening after tea Edward went, as he had been told to do, to the +place on the shore where the big stones had taught him the magic of the +spy-glass. + +Gustus was already at the tryst. + +'See here,' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to do something brave and fearless, I +am, like Lord Nelson and the boy on the fire-ship. You out with that +spy-glass, an' I'll let you look at _me_. Then we'll know where we are.' + +'But s'pose you turn into a giant?' + +'Don't care. 'Sides, I shan't. T'other bloke didn't.' + +'P'r'aps,' said Edward, cautiously, 'it only works by the seashore.' + +'Ah,' said Gustus, reproachfully, 'you've been a-trying to think, that's +what you've been a-doing. What about the elephant, my emernent +scientister? Now, then!' + +Very much afraid, Edward pulled out the glass and looked. + +And nothing happened. + +'That's number one,' said Gustus, 'now, number two.' + +He snatched the telescope from Edward's hand, and turned it round and +looked through the other end at the great stones. Edward, standing by, +saw them get smaller and smaller--turn to pebbles, to beach, to sand. +When Gustus turned the glass to the giant grass and flowers on the +sea-wall, they also drew back into themselves, got smaller and smaller, +and presently were as they had been before ever Edward picked up the +magic spy-glass. + +'Now we know all about it--I _don't_ think,' said Gustus. 'To-morrow +we'll have a look at that there model engine of yours that you say +works.' + +[Illustration: It became a quite efficient motor.] + +They did. They had a look at it through the spy-glass, and it became a +quite efficient motor; of rather an odd pattern it is true, and very +bumpy, but capable of quite a decent speed. They went up to the hills in +it, and so odd was its design that no one who saw it ever forgot it. +People talk about that rummy motor at Bonnington and Aldington to this +day. They stopped often, to use the spy-glass on various objects. Trees, +for instance, could be made to grow surprisingly, and there were patches +of giant wheat found that year near Ashford that were never +satisfactorily accounted for. Blackberries, too, could be enlarged to a +most wonderful and delicious fruit. And the sudden growth of a fugitive +toffee-drop found in Edward's pocket and placed on the hand was a happy +surprise. When you scraped the pocket dirt off the outside you had a +pound of delicious toffee. Not so happy was the incident of the earwig, +which crawled into view when Edward was enlarging a wild strawberry, and +had grown the size of a rat before the slow but horrified Edward gained +courage to shake it off. + +It was a beautiful drive. As they came home they met a woman driving a +weak-looking little cow. It went by on one side of the engine and the +woman went by on the other. When they were restored to each other the +cow was nearly the size of a cart-horse, and the woman did not recognise +it. She ran back along the road after her cow, which must, she said, +have taken fright at the beastly motor. She scolded violently as she +went. So the boys had to make the cow small again, when she wasn't +looking. + +'This is all very well,' said Gustus, 'but we've got our fortune to +make, I don't think. We've got to get hold of a tanner--or a bob would +be better.' + +But this was not possible, because that broken window wasn't paid for, +and Gustus never had any money. + +'We ought to be the benefactors of the human race,' said Edward; 'make +all the good things more and all the bad things less.' + +And _that_ was all very well--but the cow hadn't been a great success, +as Gustus reminded him. + +'I see I shall have to do some of my thinking,' he added. + +They stopped in a quiet road close by Dymchurch; the engine was made +small again, and Edward went home with it under his arm. + +It was the next day that they found the shilling on the road. They could +hardly believe their good luck. They went out on to the shore with it, +put it on Edward's hand while Gustus looked at it with the glass, and +the shilling began to grow. + +'It's as big as a saucer,' said Edward, 'and it's heavy. I'll rest it on +these stones. It's as big as a plate; it's as big as a tea-tray; it's as +big as a cart-wheel.' + +And it was. + +'Now,' said Gustus, 'we'll go and borrow a cart to take it away. Come +on.' + +But Edward could not come on. His hand was in the hollow between the two +stones, and above lay tons of silver. He could not move, and the stones +couldn't move. There was nothing for it but to look at the great round +lump of silver through the wrong end of the spy-glass till it got small +enough for Edward to lift it. And then, unfortunately, Gustus looked a +little too long, and the shilling, having gone back to its own size, +went a little further--and it went to sixpenny size, and then went out +altogether. + +So nobody got anything by that. + +And now came the time when, as was to be expected, Edward dropped the +telescope in his aunt's presence. She said, 'What's that?' picked it up +with quite unfair quickness, and looked through it, and through the open +window at a fishing-boat, which instantly swelled to the size of a +man-of-war. + +'My goodness! what a strong glass!' said the aunt. + +'Isn't it?' said Edward, gently taking it from her. He looked at the +ship through the glass's other end till she got to her proper size again +and then smaller. He just stopped in time to prevent its disappearing +altogether. + +'I'll take care of it for you,' said the aunt. And for the first time in +their lives Edward said 'No' to his aunt. + +It was a terrible moment. + +Edward, quite frenzied by his own courage, turned the glass on one +object after another--the furniture grew as he looked, and when he +lowered the glass the aunt was pinned fast between a monster table-leg +and a great chiffonier. + +'There!' said Edward. 'And I shan't let you out till you say you won't +take it to take care of either.' + +'Oh, have it your own way,' said the aunt, faintly, and closed her eyes. +When she opened them the furniture was its right size and Edward was +gone. He had twinges of conscience, but the aunt never mentioned the +subject again. I have reason to suppose that _she_ supposed that she had +had a fit of an unusual and alarming nature. + +Next day the boys in the camp were to go back to their slums. Edward and +Gustus parted on the seashore and Edward cried. He had never met a boy +whom he liked as he liked Gustus. And Gustus himself was almost melted. + +'I will say for you you're more like a man and less like a snivelling +white rabbit now than what you was when I met you. Well, we ain't done +nothing to speak of with that there conjuring trick of yours, but we've +'ad a right good time. So long. See you 'gain some day.' + +Edward hesitated, spluttered, and still weeping flung his arms round +Gustus. + +''Ere, none o' that,' said Gustus, sternly. 'If you ain't man enough to +know better, I am. Shake 'ands like a Briton; right about face--and part +game.' + +He suited the action to the word. + +Edward went back to his aunt snivelling, defenceless but happy. He had +never had a friend except Gustus, and now he had given Gustus the +greatest treasure that he possessed. + +For Edward was not such a white rabbit as he seemed. And in that last +embrace he had managed to slip the little telescope into the pocket of +the reefer coat which Gustus wore, ready for his journey. + +It was the greatest treasure that Edward had, but it was also the +greatest responsibility, so that while he felt the joy of self-sacrifice +he also felt the rapture of relief. Life is full of such mixed moments. + +And the holidays ended and Edward went back to his villa. Be sure he had +given Gustus his home address, and begged him to write, but Gustus never +did. + +Presently Edward's father came home from India, and they left his aunt +to her villa and went to live at a jolly little house on a sloping hill +at Chiselhurst, which was Edward's father's very own. They were not +rich, and Edward could not go to a very good school, and though there +was enough to eat and wear, what there was was very plain. And Edward's +father had been wounded, and somehow had not got a pension. + +Now one night in the next summer Edward woke up in his bed with the +feeling that there was some one in the room. And there was. A dark +figure was squeezing itself through the window. Edward was far too +frightened to scream. He simply lay and listened to his heart. It was +like listening to a cheap American clock. The next moment a lantern +flashed in his eyes and a masked face bent over him. + +'Where does your father keep his money?' said a muffled voice. + +'In the b-b-b-b-bank,' replied the wretched Edward, truthfully. + +'I mean what he's got in the house.' + +'In his trousers pocket,' said Edward, 'only he puts it in the +dressing-table drawer at night.' + +'You must go and get it,' said the burglar, for such he plainly was. + +'Must I?' said Edward, wondering how he could get out of betraying his +father's confidence and being branded as a criminal. + +'Yes,' said the burglar in an awful voice, 'get up and go.' + +'_No_,' said Edward, and he was as much surprised at his courage as you +are. + +'Bravo!' said the burglar, flinging off his mask. 'I see you _aren't_ +such a white rabbit as what I thought you.' + +'It's Gustus,' said Edward. 'Oh, Gustus, I'm so glad! Oh, Gustus, I'm so +sorry! I always hoped you wouldn't be a burglar. And now you are.' + +'I am so,' said Gustus, with pride, 'but,' he added sadly, 'this is my +first burglary.' + +'Couldn't it be the last?' suggested Edward. + +'That,' replied Gustus, 'depends on you.' + +'I'll do anything,' said Edward, 'anything.' + +'You see,' said Gustus, sitting down on the edge of the bed in a +confidential attitude, with the dark lantern in one hand and the mask in +the other, 'when you're as hard up as we are, there's not much of a +living to be made honest. I'm sure I wonder we don't all of us turn +burglars, so I do. And that glass of yours--you little beggar--you did +me proper--sticking of that thing in my pocket like what you did. Well, +it kept us alive last winter, that's a cert. I used to look at the +victuals with it, like what I said I would. A farden's worth o' +pease-pudden was a dinner for three when that glass was about, and a +penn'orth o' scraps turned into a big beef-steak almost. They used to +wonder how I got so much for the money. But I'm always afraid o' being +found out--or of losing the blessed spy-glass--or of some one pinching +it. So we got to do what I always said--make some use of it. And if I go +along and nick your father's dibs we'll make our fortunes right away.' + +'No,' said Edward, 'but I'll ask father.' + +'Rot.' Gustus was crisp and contemptuous. 'He'd think you was off your +chump, and he'd get me lagged.' + +'It would be stealing,' said Edward. + +'Not when you'll pay it back.' + +'Yes, it would,' said Edward. 'Oh, don't ask me--I can't.' + +'Then I shall,' said Gustus. 'Where's his room.' + +'Oh, don't!' said Edward. 'I've got a half-sovereign of my own. I'll +give you that.' + +'Lawk!' said Gustus. 'Why the blue monkeys couldn't you say so? Come +on.' + +He pulled Edward out of bed by the leg, hurried his clothes on anyhow, +and half-dragged, half-coaxed him through the window and down by the ivy +and the chicken-house roof. + +They stood face to face in the sloping garden and Edward's teeth +chattered. Gustus caught him by his hand, and led him away. + +At the other end of the shrubbery, where the rockery was, Gustus stooped +and dragged out a big clinker--then another, and another. There was a +hole like a big rabbit-hole. If Edward had really been a white rabbit it +would just have fitted him. + +'I'll go first,' said Gustus, and went, head-foremost. 'Come on,' he +said, hollowly, from inside. And Edward, too, went. It was dreadful +crawling into that damp hole in the dark. As his head got through the +hole he saw that it led to a cave, and below him stood a dark figure. +The lantern was on the ground. + +'Come on,' said Gustus, 'I'll catch you if you fall.' + +With a rush and a scramble Edward got in. + +'It's caves,' said Gustus. 'A chap I know that goes about the country +bottoming cane-chairs, 'e told me about it. And I nosed about and found +he lived here. So then I thought what a go. So now we'll put your +half-shiner down and look at it, and we'll have a gold-mine, and you can +pretend to find it.' + +'Halves!' said Edward, briefly and firmly. + +'You're a man,' said Gustus. 'Now, then!' He led the way through a maze +of chalk caves till they came to a convenient spot, which he had marked. +And now Edward emptied his pockets on the sand--he had brought all the +contents of his money-box, and there was more silver than gold, and more +copper than either, and more odd rubbish than there was anything else. +You know what a boy's pockets are like. Stones and putty, and +slate-pencils and marbles--I urge in excuse that Edward was a very +little boy--a bit of plasticine, one or two bits of wood. + +'No time to sort 'em,' said Gustus, and, putting the lantern in a +suitable position, he got out the glass and began to look through it at +the tumbled heap. + +And the heap began to grow. It grew out sideways till it touched the +walls of the recess, and outwards till it touched the top of the recess, +and then it slowly worked out into the big cave and came nearer and +nearer to the boys. Everything grew--stones, putty, money, wood, +plasticine. + +Edward patted the growing mass as though it were alive and he loved it, +and Gustus said: + +'Here's clothes, and beef, and bread, and tea, and coffee--and +baccy--and a good school, and me a engineer. I see it all a-growing and +a-growing.' + +'Hi--stop!' said Edward suddenly. + +Gustus dropped the telescope. It rolled away into the darkness. + +'Now you've done it,' said Edward. + +'What?' said Gustus. + +'My hand,' said Edward, 'it's fast between the rock and the gold and +things. Find the glass and make it go smaller so that I can get my hand +out.' + +But Gustus could not find the glass. And, what is more, no one ever has +found it to this day. + +'It's no good,' said Gustus, at last. 'I'll go and find your father. +They must come and dig you out of this precious Tom Tiddler's ground.' + +'And they'll lag you if they see you. You said they would,' said Edward, +not at all sure what lagging was, but sure that it was something +dreadful. 'Write a letter and put it in his letter-box. They'll find it +in the morning.' + +'And leave you pinned by the hand all night? Likely--I _don't_ think,' +said Gustus. + +'I'd rather,' said Edward, bravely, but his voice was weak. 'I couldn't +bear you to be lagged, Gustus. I do love you so.' + +'None of that,' said Gustus, sternly. 'I'll leave you the lamp; I can +find my way with matches. Keep up your pecker, and never say die.' + +'I won't,' said Edward, bravely. 'Oh, Gustus!' + + * * * * * + +That was how it happened that Edward's father was roused from slumbers +by violent shakings from an unknown hand, while an unknown voice +uttered these surprising words:-- + +'Edward is in the gold and silver and copper mine that we've found under +your garden. Come and get him out.' + +When Edward's father was at last persuaded that Gustus was not a silly +dream--and this took some time--he got up. + +He did not believe a word that Gustus said, even when Gustus added +'S'welp me!' which he did several times. + +But Edward's bed was empty--his clothes gone. + +Edward's father got the gardener from next door--with, at the suggestion +of Gustus, a pick--the hole in the rockery was enlarged, and they all +got in. + +And when they got to the place where Edward was, there, sure enough, was +Edward, pinned by the hand between a piece of wood and a piece of rock. +Neither the father nor the gardener noticed any metal. Edward had +fainted. + +They got him out; a couple of strokes with the pick released his hand, +but it was bruised and bleeding. + +They all turned to go, but they had not gone twenty yards before there +was a crash and a loud report like thunder, and a slow rumbling, +rattling noise very dreadful to hear. + +'Get out of this quick, sir,' said the gardener; 'the roof's fell in; +this part of the caves ain't safe.' + +Edward was very feverish and ill for several days, during which he told +his father the whole story--of which his father did not believe a word. +But he was kind to Gustus, because Gustus was evidently fond of Edward. + +When Edward was well enough to walk in the garden his father and he +found that a good deal of the shrubbery had sunk, so that the trees +looked as though they were growing in a pit. + +It spoiled the look of the garden, and Edward's father decided to move +the trees to the other side. + +When this was done the first tree uprooted showed a dark hollow below +it. The man is not born who will not examine and explore a dark hollow +in his own grounds. So Edward's father explored. + +This is the true story of the discovery of that extraordinary vein of +silver, copper, and gold which has excited so much interest in +scientific and mining circles. Learned papers have been written about +it, learned professors have been rude to each other about it, but no one +knows how it came there except Gustus and Edward and you and me. +Edward's father is quite as ignorant as any one else, but he is much +richer than most of them; and, at any rate, he knows that it was Gustus +who first told him of the gold-mine, and who risked being +lagged--arrested by the police, that is--rather than let Edward wait +till morning with his hand fast between wood and rock. + +So Edward and Gustus have been to a good school, and now they are at +Winchester, and presently they will be at Oxford. And when Gustus is +twenty-one he will have half the money that came from the gold-mine. And +then he and Edward mean to start a school of their own. And the boys who +are to go to it are to be the sort of boys who go to the summer camp of +the Grand Redoubt near the sea--the kind of boy that Gustus was. + +So the spy-glass will do some good after all, though it _was_ so +unmanageable to begin with. + +Perhaps it may even be found again. But I rather hope it won't. It +might, really, have done much more mischief than it did--and if any one +found it, it might do more yet. + +There is no moral to this story, except.... But no--there is no moral. + + + + +[Illustration: Quentin de Ward.] + + +III + +ACCIDENTAL MAGIC; OR DON'T TELL ALL YOU KNOW + + +Quentin de Ward was rather a nice little boy, but he had never been with +other little boys, and that made him in some ways a little different +from other little boys. His father was in India, and he and his mother +lived in a little house in the New Forest. The house--it was a cottage +really, but even a cottage is a house, isn't it?--was very pretty and +thatched and had a porch covered with honeysuckle and ivy and white +roses, and straight red hollyhocks were trained to stand up in a row +against the south wall of it. The two lived quite alone, and as they had +no one else to talk to they talked to each other a good deal. Mrs. de +Ward read a great many books, and she used to tell Quentin about them +afterwards. They were usually books about out of the way things, for +Mrs. de Ward was interested in all the things that people are not quite +sure about--the things that are hidden and secret, wonderful and +mysterious--the things people make discoveries about. So that when the +two were having their tea on the little brick terrace in front of the +hollyhocks, with the white cloth flapping in the breeze, and the wasps +hovering round the jam-pot, it was no uncommon thing for Quentin to say +thickly through his bread and jam:-- + +'I say, mother, tell me some more about Atlantis.' Or, 'Mother, tell me +some more about ancient Egypt and the little toy-boats they made for +their little boys.' Or, 'Mother, tell me about the people who think Lord +Bacon wrote Shakespeare.' + +And his mother always told him as much as she thought he could +understand, and he always understood quite half of what she told him. + +They always talked the things out thoroughly, and thus he learned to be +fond of arguing, and to enjoy using his brains, just as you enjoy using +your muscles in the football field or the gymnasium. + +Also he came to know quite a lot of odd, out of the way things, and to +have opinions of his own concerning the lost Kingdom of Atlantis, and +the Man with the Iron Mask, the building of Stonehenge, the Pre-dynastic +Egyptians, cuneiform writings and Assyrian sculptures, the Mexican +pyramids and the shipping activities of Tyre and Sidon. + +Quentin did no regular lessons, such as most boys have, but he read all +sorts of books and made notes from them, in a large and straggling +handwriting. + +You will already have supposed that Quentin was a prig. But he wasn't, +and you would have owned this if you had seen him scampering through the +greenwood on his quiet New Forest pony, or setting snares for the +rabbits that _would_ get into the garden and eat the precious lettuces +and parsley. Also he fished in the little streams that run through that +lovely land, and shot with a bow and arrows. And he was a very good +shot too. + +Besides this he collected stamps and birds' eggs and picture post-cards, +and kept guinea-pigs and bantams, and climbed trees and tore his clothes +in twenty different ways. And once he fought the grocer's boy and got +licked and didn't cry, and made friends with the grocer's boy +afterwards, and got him to show him all he knew about fighting, so you +see he was really not a mug. He was ten years old and he had enjoyed +every moment of his ten years, even the sleeping ones, because he always +dreamed jolly dreams, though he could not always remember what they +were. + +I tell you all this so that you may understand why he said what he did +when his mother broke the news to him. + +He was sitting by the stream that ran along the end of the garden, +making bricks of the clay that the stream's banks were made of. He dried +them in the sun, and then baked them under the kitchen stove. (It is +quite a good way to make bricks--you might try it sometimes.) His mother +came out, looking just as usual, in her pink cotton gown and her pink +sunbonnet; and she had a letter in her hand. + +'Hullo, boy of my heart,' she said, 'very busy?' + +'Yes,' said Quentin importantly, not looking up, and going on with his +work. 'I'm making stones to build Stonehenge with. You'll show me how to +build it, won't you, mother.' + +'Yes, dear,' she said absently. 'Yes, if I can.' + +'Of course you can,' he said, 'you can do everything.' + +She sat down on a tuft of grass near him. + +'Quentin dear,' she said, and something in her voice made him look up +suddenly. + +'Oh, mother, what is it?' he asked. + +'Daddy's been wounded,' she said; 'he's all right now, dear--don't be +frightened. Only I've got to go out to him. I shall meet him in Egypt. +And you must go to school in Salisbury, a very nice school, dear, till I +come back.' + +'Can't I come too?' he asked. + +And when he understood that he could not he went on with the bricks in +silence, with his mouth shut very tight. + +After a moment he said, 'Salisbury? Then I shall see Stonehenge?' + +'Yes,' said his mother, pleased that he took the news so calmly, 'you +will be sure to see Stonehenge some time.' + +He stood still, looking down at the little mould of clay in his hand--so +still that his mother got up and came close to him. + +'Quentin,' she said, 'darling, what is it?' + +He leaned his head against her. + +'I won't make a fuss,' he said, 'but you can't begin to be brave the +very first minute. Or, if you do, you can't go on being.' + +And with that he began to cry, though he had not cried after the affair +of the grocer's boy. + + * * * * * + +The thought of school was not so terrible to Quentin as Mrs. de Ward had +thought it would be. In fact, he rather liked it, with half his mind; +but the other half didn't like it, because it meant parting from his +mother who, so far, had been his only friend. But it was exciting to be +taken to Southampton, and have all sorts of new clothes bought for you, +and a school trunk, and a little polished box that locked up, to keep +your money in and your gold sleeve links, and your watch and chain when +you were not wearing them. + +Also the journey to Salisbury was made in a motor, which was very +exciting of course, and rather took Quentin's mind off the parting with +his mother, as she meant it should. And there was a very grand lunch at +The White Hart Hotel at Salisbury, and then, very suddenly indeed, it +was good-bye, good-bye, and the motor snorted, and hooted, and throbbed, +and rushed away, and mother was gone, and Quentin was at school. + +I believe it was quite a nice school. It was in a very nice house with a +large quiet garden, and there were only about twenty boys. And the +masters were kind, and the boys no worse than other boys of their age. +But Quentin hated it from the very beginning. For when his mother had +gone the Headmaster said: 'School will be out in half-an-hour; take a +book, de Ward,' and gave him _Little Eric and his Friends_, a mere baby +book. It was too silly. He could not read it. He saw on a shelf near +him, _Smith's Antiquities_, a very old friend of his, so he said: 'I'd +rather have this, please.' + +'You should say "sir" when you speak to a master,' the Head said to him. +'Take the book by all means.' To himself the Head said, 'I wish you joy +of it, you little prig.' + +When school was over, one of the boys was told to show Quentin his bed +and his locker. The matron had already unpacked his box and his pile of +books was waiting for him to carry it over. + +'Golly, what a lot of books,' said Smithson minor. 'What's this? +_Atlantis_? Is it a jolly story?' + +'It isn't a story,' said Quentin. And just then the classical master +came by. 'What's that about _Atlantis_?' he said. + +'It's a book the new chap's got,' said Smithson. + +The classical master glanced at the book. + +'And how much do you understand of this?' he asked, fluttering the +leaves. + +'Nearly all, I think,' said Quentin. + +'You should say "sir" when you speak to a master,' said the classical +one; and to himself he added, 'little prig.' Then he said to Quentin: 'I +am afraid you will find yourself rather out of your element among +ordinary boys.' + +'I don't think so,' said Quentin calmly, adding as an afterthought +'sir.' + +'I'm glad you're so confident,' said the classical master and went. + +'My word,' said Smithson minor in a rather awed voice, 'you did answer +him back.' + +'Of course I did,' said Quentin. 'Don't _you_ answer when you're spoken +to?' + +Smithson minor informed the interested school that the new chap was a +prig, but he had a cool cheek, and that some sport might be expected. + +After supper the boys had half an hour's recreation. Quentin, who was +tired, picked up a book which a big boy had just put down. It was the +_Midsummer Night's Dream_. + +'Hi, you kid,' said the big boy, 'don't pretend you read Shakespeare for +fun. That's simple swank, you know.' + +'I don't know what swank is,' said Quentin, 'but I like the _Midsummer_ +whoever wrote it.' + +'Whoever _what_?' + +'Well,' said Quentin, 'there's a good deal to be said for its being +Bacon who wrote the plays.' + +Of course that settled it. From that moment, he was called not de Ward, +which was strange enough, but Bacon. He rather liked that. But the next +day it was Pork, and the day after Pig, and that was unbearable. + +He was at the bottom of his class, for he knew no Latin as it is taught +in schools, only odd words that English words come from, and some Latin +words that are used in science. And I cannot pretend that his arithmetic +was anything but contemptible. + +The book called _Atlantis_ had been looked at by most of the school, and +Smithson major, not nearly such an agreeable boy as his brother, hit on +a new nickname. + +'Atlantic Pork's a good name for a swanker,' he said. 'You know the +rotten meat they have in Chicago.' + +This was in the playground before dinner. Quentin, who had to keep his +mouth shut very tight these days, because, of course, a boy of ten +cannot cry before other chaps, shut the book he was reading and looked +up. + +'I won't be called that,' he said quietly. + +'Who said you wouldn't?' said Smithson major, who, after all, was only +twelve. 'I say you will.' + +'If you call me that I shall hit you,' said Quentin, 'as hard as I can.' + +A roar of laughter went up, and cries of, 'Poor old +Smithson'--'Apologise, Smithie, and leave the omnibus.' + +'And what should I be doing while you were hitting me?' asked Smithson +contemptuously. + +[Illustration: It landed on the point of the chin of Smithson major.] + +'I don't know and I don't care,' said Quentin. + +Smithson looked round. No master was in sight. It seemed an excellent +opportunity to teach young de Ward his place. + +'Atlantic pig-swine,' he said very deliberately. And Quentin sprang at +him, and instantly it was a fight. + +Now Quentin had only once fought--really fought--before. Then it was +the grocer's boy and he had been beaten. But he had learned something +since. And the chief conclusion he now drew from his memories of that +fight was that he had not hit half hard enough, an opinion almost +universal among those who have fought and not won. + +As the fist of Smithson major described a half circle and hurt his ear +very much, Quentin suddenly screwed himself up and hit out with his +right hand, straight, and with his whole weight behind the blow as the +grocer's boy had shown him. All his grief for his wounded father, his +sorrow at the parting from his mother, all his hatred of his school, and +his contempt for his schoolfellows went into that blow. It landed on the +point of the chin of Smithson major who fell together like a heap of +rags. + +'Oh,' said Quentin, gazing with interest at his hand--it hurt a good +deal but he looked at it with respect--'I'm afraid I've hurt him.' + +He had forgotten for a moment that he was in an enemies' country, and +so, apparently, had his enemies. + +'Well done, Piggy! Bravo, young 'un! Well hit, by Jove!' + +Friendly hands thumped him on the back. Smithson major was no popular +hero. + +Quentin felt--as his schoolfellows would have put it--bucked. It is one +thing to be called Pig in enmity and derision. Another to be called +Piggy--an affectionate diminutive, after all--to the chorus of admiring +smacks. + +'Get up, Smithie,' cried the ring. 'Want any more?' + +It appeared that Smithie did not want any more. He lay, not moving at +all, and very white. + +'I say,' the crowd's temper veered, 'you've killed him, I expect. I +wouldn't like to be you, Bacon.' + +Pig, you notice, for aggravation--Piggy in enthusiastic applause. In the +moment of possible tragedy the more formal Bacon. + +'I haven't,' said Quentin, very white himself, 'but if I have he +began--by calling names.' + +Smithson moved and grunted. A sigh of relief swept the ring as a breeze +sweeps a cornfield. + +'He's all right. A fair knock out. Piggy's got the use of 'em. Do +Smithie good.' The voices hushed suddenly. A master was on the +scene--the classical master. + +'Fighting?' he said. 'The new boy? Who began it?' + +'I did,' said Quentin, 'but he began with calling names.' + +'Sneak!' murmured the entire school, and Quentin, who had seen no reason +for not speaking the truth, perceived that one should not tell all one +knows, and that once more he stood alone in the world. + +'You will go to your room, de Ward,' said the classical master, bending +over Smithson, who having been 'knocked silly' still remained in that +condition, 'and the headmaster will consider your case to-morrow. You +will probably be expelled.' + +Quentin went to his room and thought over his position. It seemed to be +desperate. How was he to know that the classical master was even then +saying to the Head: + +'He's got something in him, prig or no prig, sir.' + +'You were quite right to send him to his room,' said the Head, +'discipline must be maintained, as Mr. Ducket says. But it will do +Smithson major a world of good. A boy who reads Shakespeare for fun, and +has views about Atlantis, and can knock out a bully as well.... He'll be +a power in the school. But we mustn't let him know it.' + +That was rather a pity. Because Quentin, furious at the injustice of the +whole thing--Smithson, the aggressor, consoled with; himself punished; +expulsion threatened--was maturing plans. + +'If mother had known what it was like,' he said to himself, 'she would +never have left me here. I've got the two pounds she gave me. I shall +go to the White Hart at Salisbury ... no, they'd find me then. I'll go +to Lyndhurst; and write to her. It's better to run away than to be +expelled. Quentin Durward would never have waited to be expelled from +anywhere.' + +Of course Quentin Durward was my hero's hero. It could not be otherwise +since his own name was so like that of the Scottish guardsman. + +Now the school in Salisbury was a little school for little boys--boys +who were used to schools and took the rough with the smooth. But Quentin +was not used to schools, and he had taken the rough very much to heart. +So much that he did not mean to take any more of it. + +His dinner was brought up on a tray--bread and water. He put the bread +in his pocket. Then when he knew that every one was at dinner in the +long dining-room at the back of the house, he just walked very quietly +down the stairs, opened the side door and marched out, down the garden +path and out at the tradesmen's gate. He knew better than to shut either +gate or door. + +He went quickly down the street, turned the first corner he came to so +as to get out of sight of the school. He turned another corner, went +through an archway, and found himself in an inn-yard--very quiet indeed. +Only a liver-coloured lurcher dog wagged a sleepy tail on the hot +flag-stones. + +Quentin was just turning to go back through the arch, for there was no +other way out of the yard, when he saw a big covered cart, whose horse +wore a nose-bag and looked as if there was no hurry. The cart bore the +name, 'Miles, Carrier, Lyndhurst.' + +Quentin knew all about lifts. He had often begged them and got them. Now +there was no one to ask. But he felt he could very well explain later +that he had wanted a lift, much better than now, in fact, when he might +be caught at any moment by some one from the school. + +He climbed up by the shaft. There were boxes and packages of all sorts +in the cart, and at the back an empty crate with sacking over it. He got +into the crate, pulled the sacking over himself, and settled down to eat +his bread. + +Presently the carrier came out, and there was talk, slow, long-drawn +talk. After a long while the cart shook to the carrier's heavy climb +into it, the harness rattled, the cart lurched, and the wheels were loud +and bumpy over the cobble stones of the yard. + +Quentin felt safe. The glow of anger was still hot in him, and he was +glad to think how they would look for him all over the town, in vain. He +lifted the sacking at one corner so that he could look out between the +canvas of the cart's back and side, and hoped to see the classical +master distractedly looking for him. But the streets were very sleepy. +Every one in Salisbury was having dinner--or in the case of the +affluent, lunch. + +The black horse seemed as sleepy as the streets, and went very slowly. +Also it stopped very often, and wherever there were parcels to leave +there was slow, long talkings to be exchanged. I think, perhaps, Quentin +dozed a good deal under his sacks. At any rate it was with a shock of +surprise that he suddenly heard the carrier's voice saying, as the horse +stopped with a jerk: + +'There's a crate for you, Mrs. Baddock, returned empty,' and knew that +that crate was not empty, but full--full of boy. + +'I'll go and call Joe,' said a voice--Mrs. Baddock's, Quentin supposed, +and slow feet stumped away over stones. Mr. Miles leisurely untied the +tail of the cart, ready to let the crate be taken out. + +Quentin spent a paralytic moment. What could he do? + +And then, luckily or unluckily, a reckless motor tore past, and the +black horse plunged and Mr. Miles had to go to its head and 'talk +pretty' to it for a minute. And in that minute Quentin lifted the +sacking, and looked out. It was low sunset, and the street was deserted. +He stepped out of the crate, dropped to the ground, and slipped behind a +stout and friendly water-butt that seemed to offer protective shelter. + +Joe came, and the crate was taken down. + +'You haven't seen nothing of that there runaway boy by chance?' said a +new voice--Joe's no doubt. + +'What boy?' said Mr. Miles. + +'Run away from school, Salisbury,' said Joe. 'Telegrams far and near, so +they be. Little varmint.' + +'I ain't seen no boys, not more'n ordinary,' said Mr. Miles. 'Thick as +flies they be, here, there, and everywhere, drat 'em. Sixpence--Correct. +So long, Joe.' + +The cart rattled away. Joe and the crate blundered out of hearing, and +Quentin looked cautiously round the water-butt. + +This was an adventure. But he was cooler now than he had been at +starting--his hot anger had died down. He would have been contented, he +could not help feeling, with a less adventurous adventure. + +But he was in for it now. He felt, as I suppose people feel when they +jump off cliffs with parachutes, that return was impossible. + +Hastily turning his school cap inside out--the only disguise he could +think of, he emerged from the water-butt seclusion and into the street, +trying to look as if there was no reason why he should not be there. He +did not know the village. It was not Lyndhurst. And of course asking the +way was not to be thought of. + +There was a piece of sacking lying on the road; it must have dropped +from the carrier's cart. He picked it up and put it over his shoulders. + +'A deeper disguise,' he said, and walked on. + +He walked steadily for a long, long way as it seemed, and the world got +darker and darker. But he kept on. Surely he must presently come to some +village, or some signpost. + +Anyhow, whatever happened, he could not go back. That was the one +certain thing. The broad stretches of country to right and left held no +shapes of houses, no glimmer of warm candle-light; they were bare and +bleak, only broken by circles of trees that stood out like black islands +in the misty grey of the twilight. + +'I shall have to sleep behind a hedge,' he said bravely enough; but +there did not seem to be any hedges. And then, quite suddenly, he came +upon it. + +A scattered building, half transparent as it seemed, showing black +against the last faint pink and primrose of the sunset. He stopped, took +a few steps off the road on short, crisp turf that rose in a gentle +slope. And at the end of a dozen paces he knew it. Stonehenge! +Stonehenge he had always wanted so desperately to see. Well, he saw it +now, more or less. + +He stopped to think. He knew that Stonehenge stands all alone on +Salisbury Plain. He was very tired. His mother had told him about a girl +in a book who slept all night on the altar stone at Stonehenge. So it +was a thing that people did--to sleep there. He was not afraid, as you +or I might have been--of that lonely desolate ruin of a temple of long +ago. He was used to the forest, and, compared with the forest, any +building is homelike. + +There was just enough light left amid the stones of the wonderful broken +circle to guide him to its centre. As he went his hand brushed a plant; +he caught at it, and a little group of flowers came away in his hand. + +'St. John's wort,' he said, 'that's the magic flower.' And he remembered +that it is only magic when you pluck it on Midsummer Eve. + +'And this _is_ Midsummer Eve,' he told himself, and put it in his +buttonhole. + +'I don't know where the altar stone is,' he said, 'but that looks a cosy +little crack between those two big stones.' + +He crept into it, and lay down on a flat stone that stretched between +and under two fallen pillars. + +The night was soft and warm; it was Midsummer Eve. + +'Mother isn't going till the twenty-sixth,' he told himself. 'I sha'n't +bother about hotels. I shall send her a telegram in the morning, and get +a carriage at the nearest stables and go straight back to her. No, she +won't be angry when she hears all about it. I'll ask her to let me go to +sea instead of to school. It's much more manly. Much more manly ... much +much more, much.' + +He was asleep. And the wild west wind that swept across the plain spared +the little corner where he lay asleep, curled up in his sacking with the +inside-out school cap, doubled twice, for pillow. + +He fell asleep on the smooth, solid, steady stone. + +He awoke on the stone in a world that rocked as sea-boats rock on a +choppy sea. + +He went to sleep between fallen moveless pillars of a ruin older than +any world that history knows. + +He awoke in the shade of a purple awning through which strong sunlight +filtered, and purple curtains that flapped and strained in the wind; and +there was a smell, a sweet familiar smell, of tarred ropes and the sea. + +'I say,' said Quentin to himself, 'here's a rum go.' + +He had learned that expression in a school in Salisbury, a long time ago +as it seemed. + +The stone on which he lay dipped and rose to a rhythm which he knew well +enough. He had felt it when he and his mother went in a little boat from +Keyhaven to Alum Bay in the Isle of Wight. There was no doubt in his +mind. He was on a ship. But how, but why? Who could have carried him all +that way without waking him? Was it magic? Accidental magic? The St. +John's wort perhaps? And the stone--it was not the same. It was new, +clean cut, and, where the wind displaced a corner of the curtain, +dazzlingly white in the sunlight. + +There was the pat pat of bare feet on the deck, a dull sort of shuffling +as though people were arranging themselves. And then people outside the +awning began to sing. It was a strange song, not at all like any music +you or I have ever heard. It had no tune, no more tune than a drum has, +or a trumpet, but it had a sort of wild rough glorious exciting +splendour about it, and gave you the sort of intense all-alive feeling +that drums and trumpets give. + +Quentin lifted a corner of the purple curtain and looked out. + +Instantly the song stopped, drowned in the deepest silence Quentin had +ever imagined. It was only broken by the flip-flapping of the sheets +against the masts of the ship. For it was a ship, Quentin saw that as +the bulwark dipped to show him an unending waste of sea, broken by +bigger waves than he had ever dreamed of. He saw also a crowd of men, +dressed in white and blue and purple and gold. Their right arms were +raised towards the sun, half of whose face showed across the sea--but +they seemed to be, as my old nurse used to say, 'struck so,' for their +eyes were not fixed on the sun, but on Quentin. And not in anger, he +noticed curiously, but with surprise and ... could it be that they were +afraid of him? + +[Illustration: 'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you by the +sacred Tau!'] + +Quentin was shivering with the surprise and newness of it all. He had +read about magic, but he had not wholly believed in it, and yet, now, if +this was not magic, what was it? You go to sleep on an old stone in a +ruin. You wake on the same stone, quite new, on a ship. Magic, magic, if +ever there was magic in this wonderful, mysterious world! + +The silence became awkward. Some one had to say something. + +'Good-morning,' said Quentin, feeling that he ought perhaps to be the +one. + +Instantly every one in sight fell on his face on the deck. + +Only one, a tall man with a black beard and a blue mantle, stood up and +looked Quentin in the eyes. + +'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you by the Sacred Tau!' Now +this was very odd, and Quentin could never understand it, but when this +man spoke Quentin understood _him_ perfectly, and yet at the same time +he knew that the man was speaking a foreign language. So that his +thought was not, 'Hullo, you speak English!' but 'Hullo, I can +understand your language.' + +'I am Quentin de Ward,' he said. + +'A name from other stars! How came you here?' asked the blue-mantled +man. + +'_I_ don't know,' said Quentin. + +'He does not know. He did not sail with us. It is by magic that he is +here,' said Blue Mantle. 'Rise, all, and greet the Chosen of the +Gods.' + +They rose from the deck, and Quentin saw that they were all bearded +men, with bright, earnest eyes, dressed in strange dress of something +like jersey and tunic and heavy golden ornaments. + +'Hail! Chosen of the Gods,' cried Blue Mantle, who seemed to be the +leader. + +'Hail, Chosen of the Gods!' echoed the rest. + +'Thank you very much, I'm sure,' said Quentin. + +'And what is this stone?' asked Blue Mantle, pointing to the stone on +which Quentin sat. + +And Quentin, anxious to show off his knowledge, said: + +'I'm not quite sure, but I _think_ it's the altar stone of Stonehenge.' + +'It is proved,' said Blue Mantle. 'Thou art the Chosen of the Gods. Is +there anything my Lord needs?' he added humbly. + +'I ... I'm rather hungry,' said Quentin; 'it's a long time since dinner, +you know.' + +They brought him bread and bananas, and oranges. + +'Take,' said Blue Mantle, 'of the fruits of the earth, and specially of +this, which gives drink and meat and ointment to man,' suddenly +offering a large cocoa-nut. + +Quentin took, with appropriate 'Thank you's' and 'You're very kind's.' + +'Nothing,' said Blue Mantle, 'is too good for the Chosen of the Gods. +All that we have is yours, to the very last day of your life you have +only to command, and we obey. You will like to eat in seclusion. And +afterwards you will let us behold the whole person of the Chosen of the +Gods.' + +Quentin retired into the purple tent, with the fruits and the cocoa-nut. +As you know, a cocoa-nut is not handy to get at the inside of, at the +best of times, so Quentin set that aside, meaning to ask Blue Mantle +later on for a gimlet and a hammer. + +When he had had enough to eat he peeped out again. Blue Mantle was on +the watch and came quickly forward. + +'Now,' said he, very crossly indeed, 'tell me how you got here. This +Chosen of the Gods business is all very well for the vulgar. But you and +I know that there is no such thing as magic.' + +'Speak for yourself,' said Quentin. 'If I'm not here by magic I'm not +here at all.' + +'Yes, you are,' said Blue Mantle. + +'I know I am,' said Quentin, 'but if I'm not here by magic what am I +here by?' + +'Stowawayishness,' said Blue Mantle. + +'If you think that why don't you treat me as a stowaway?' + +'Because of public opinion,' said Blue Mantle, rubbing his nose in an +angry sort of perplexedness. + +'Very well,' said Quentin, who was feeling so surprised and bewildered +that it was a real relief to him to bully somebody. 'Now look here. I +came here by magic, accidental magic. I belong to quite a different +world from yours. But perhaps you are right about my being the Chosen of +the Gods. And I sha'n't tell you anything about my world. But I command +you, by the Sacred Tau' (he had been quick enough to catch and remember +the word), 'to tell me who you are, and where you come from, and where +you are going.' + +Blue Mantle shrugged his shoulders. 'Oh, well,' he said, 'if you invoke +the sacred names of Power.... But I don't call it fair play. Especially +as you know perfectly well, and just want to browbeat me into telling +lies. I shall not tell lies. I shall tell you the truth.' + +'I hoped you would,' said Quentin gently. + +'Well then,' said Blue Mantle, 'I am a Priest of Poseidon, and I come +from the great and immortal kingdom of Atlantis.' + +'From the temple where the gold statue is, with the twelve sea-horses in +gold?' Quentin asked eagerly. + +'Ah, I knew you knew all about it,' said Blue Mantle, 'so I don't need +to tell you that I am taking the sacred stone, on which you are sitting +(profanely if you are a mere stowaway, and not the Chosen of the Gods) +to complete the splendid structure of a temple built on a great plain in +the second of the islands which are our colonies in the North East.' + +'Tell me all about Atlantis,' said Quentin. And the priest, protesting +that Quentin knew as much about it as he did, told. + +And all the time the ship was ploughing through the waves, sometimes +sailing, sometimes rowed by hidden rowers with long oars. And Quentin +was served in all things as though he had been a king. If he had +insisted that he was not the Chosen of the Gods everything might have +been different. But he did not. And he was very anxious to show how much +he knew about Atlantis. And sometimes he was wrong, the Priest said, but +much more often he was right. + +'We are less than three days' journey now from the Eastern Isles,' Blue +Mantle said one day, 'and I warn you that if you are a mere stowaway you +had better own it. Because if you persist in calling yourself the Chosen +of the Gods you will be expected to act as such--to the very end.' + +'I don't call myself anything,' said Quentin, 'though I am not a +stowaway, anyhow, and I don't know how I came here--so of course it was +magic. It's simply silly your being so cross. _I_ can't help being here. +Let's be friends.' + +'Well,' said Blue Mantle, much less crossly, 'I never believed in magic, +though I _am_ a priest, but if it is, it is. We may as well be friends, +as you call it. It isn't for very long, anyway,' he added mysteriously. + +[Illustration: The cart was drawn by an enormous creature, more like an +elephant than anything else.] + +And then to show his friendliness he took Quentin all over the ship, and +explained it all to him. And Quentin enjoyed himself thoroughly, though +every now and then he had to pinch himself to make sure that he was +awake. And he was fed well all the time, and all the time made much of, +so that when the ship reached land he was quite sorry. The ship anchored +by a stone quay, most solid and serviceable, and every one was very +busy. + +Quentin kept out of sight behind the purple curtains. The sailors and +the priests and the priests' attendants and everybody on the boat had +asked him so many questions, and been so curious about his clothes, that +he was not anxious to hear any more questions asked, or to have to +invent answers to them. + +And after a very great deal of talk--almost as much as Mr. Miles's +carrying had needed--the altar stone was lifted, Quentin, curtains, +awning and all, and carried along a gangway to the shore, and there it +was put on a sort of cart, more like what people in Manchester call a +lurry than anything else I can think of. The wheels were made of solid +circles of wood bound round with copper. And the cart was drawn by--not +horses or donkeys or oxen or even dogs--but by an enormous creature more +like an elephant than anything else, only it had long hair rather like +the hair worn by goats. + +You, perhaps, would not have known what this vast creature was, but +Quentin, who had all sorts of out-of-the-way information packed in his +head, knew at once that it was a mammoth. + +And by that he knew, too, that he had slipped back many thousands of +years, because, of course, it is a very long time indeed since there +were any mammoths alive, and able to draw lurries. And the car and the +priest and the priest's retinue and the stone and Quentin and the +mammoth journeyed slowly away from the coast, passing through great +green forests and among strange gray mountains. + +Where were they journeying? + +Quentin asked the same question you may be sure, and Blue Mantle told +him-- + +'To Stonehenge.' And Quentin understood him perfectly, though +Stonehenge was not the word Blue Mantle used, or anything like it. + +'The great temple is now complete,' he said, 'all but the altar stone. +It will be the most wonderful temple ever built in any of the colonies +of Atlantis. And it will be consecrated on the longest day of the year.' + +'Midsummer Day,' said Quentin thoughtlessly--and, as usual, anxious to +tell all he knew. 'I know. The sun strikes through the arch on to the +altar stone at sunrise. Hundreds of people go to see it: the ruins are +quite crowded sometimes, I believe.' + +'Ruins?' said the priest in a terrible voice. 'Crowded? Ruins?' + +'I mean,' said Quentin hastily, 'the sun will still shine the same way +even when the temple is in ruins, won't it?' + +'The temple,' said the priest, 'is built to defy time. It will never be +in ruins.' + +'That's all _you_ know,' said Quentin, not very politely. + +'It is not by any means all I know,' said the priest. 'I do not tell all +I know. Nor do you.' + +'I used to,' said Quentin, 'but I sha'n't any more. It only leads to +trouble--I see that now.' + +Now, though Quentin had been intensely interested in everything he had +seen in the ship and on the journey, you may be sure he had not lost +sight of the need there was to get back out of this time of Atlantis +into his own time. He knew that he must have got into these Atlantean +times by some very simple accidental magic, and he felt no doubt that he +should get back in the same way. He felt almost sure that the +reverse-action, so to speak, of the magic would begin when the stone got +back to the place where it had lain for so many thousand years before he +happened to go to sleep on it, and to start--perhaps by the St. John's +wort--the accidental magic. If only, when he got back there he could +think of the compelling, the magic word! + +And now the slow procession wound over the downs, and far away across +the plain, which was almost just the same then as it is now, Quentin saw +what he knew must be Stonehenge. But it was no longer the grey pile of +ruins that you have perhaps seen--or have, at any rate, seen pictures +of. + +From afar one could see the gleam of yellow gold and red copper; the +flutter of purple curtains, the glitter and dazzle of shimmering silver. + +As they drew near to the spot Quentin perceived that the great stones he +remembered were overlaid with ornamental work, with vivid, +bright-coloured paintings. The whole thing was a great circular +building, every stone in its place. At a mile or two distant lay a town. +And in that town, with every possible luxury, served with every +circumstance of servile homage, Quentin ate and slept. + +I wish I had time to tell you what that town was like where he slept and +ate, but I have not. You can read for yourself, some day, what Atlantis +was like. Plato tells us a good deal, and the Colonies of Atlantis must +have had at least a reasonable second-rate copy of the cities of that +fair and lovely land. + +That night, for the first time since he had first gone to sleep on the +altar stone, Quentin slept apart from it. He lay on a wooden couch +strewn with soft bear-skins, and a woollen coverlet was laid over him. +And he slept soundly. + +In the middle of the night, as it seemed, Blue Mantle woke him. + +'Come,' he said, 'Chosen of the Gods--since you _will_ be that, and no +stowaway--the hour draws nigh.' + +The mammoth was waiting. Quentin and Blue Mantle rode on its back to the +outer porch of the new temple of Stonehenge. Rows of priests and +attendants, robed in white and blue and purple, formed a sort of avenue +up which Blue Mantle led the Chosen of the Gods, who was Quentin. They +took off his jacket and put a white dress on him, rather like a +night-shirt without sleeves. And they put a thick wreath of London Pride +on his head and another, larger and longer, round his neck. + +'If only the chaps at school could see me now!' he said to himself +proudly. + +And by this time it was gray dawn. + +'Lie down now,' said Blue Mantle, 'lie down, O Beloved of the Gods, upon +the altar stone, for the last time.' + +'I shall be able to go, then?' Quentin asked. This accidental magic was, +he perceived, a tricky thing, and he wanted to be sure. + +'You will not be able to stay,' said the priest. 'If going is what you +desire, the desire of the Chosen of the Gods is fully granted.' + +The grass on the plain far and near rustled with the tread of many feet; +the cold air of dawn thrilled to the awed murmured of many voices. + +Quentin lay down, with his pink wreaths and his white robe, and watched +the quickening pinkiness of the East. And slowly the great circle of the +temple filled with white-robed folk, all carrying in their hands the +faint pinkiness of the flowers which we nowadays call London Pride. + +And all eyes were fixed on the arch through which, at sunrise on +Midsummer Day, the sun's first beam should fall upon the white, new, +clean altar stone. The stone is still there, after all these thousands +of years, and at sunrise on Midsummer Day the sun's first ray still +falls on it. + +[Illustration: 'Silence,' cried the priest. 'Chosen of the Immortals, +close your eyes!'] + +The sky grew lighter and lighter, and at last the sun peered redly over +the down, and the first ray of the morning sunlight fell full on the +altar stone and on the face of Quentin. + +And, as it did so, a very tall, white-robed priest with a deer-skin +apron and a curious winged head-dress stepped forward. He carried a +great bronze knife, and he waved it ten times in the shaft of sunlight +that shot through the arch and on to the altar stone. + +'Thus,' he cried, 'thus do I bathe the sacred blade in the pure fountain +of all light, all wisdom, all splendour. In the name of the ten kings, +the ten virtues, the ten hopes, the ten fears I make my weapon clean! +May this temple of our love and our desire endure for ever, so long as +the glory of our Lord the Sun is shed upon this earth. May the sacrifice +I now humbly and proudly offer be acceptable to the gods by whom it has +been so miraculously provided. Chosen of the Gods! return to the gods +who sent thee!' + +A roar of voices rang through the temple. The bronze knife was raised +over Quentin. He could not believe that this, this horror, was the end +of all these wonderful happenings. + +'No--no,' he cried, 'it's not true. I'm not the Chosen of the Gods! I'm +only a little boy that's got here by accidental magic!' + +'Silence,' cried the priest, 'Chosen of the Immortals, close your eyes! +It will not hurt. This life is only a dream; the other life is the real +life. Be strong, be brave!' + +Quentin was not brave. But he shut his eyes. He could not help it. The +glitter of the bronze knife in the sunlight was too strong for him. + +He could not believe that this could really have happened to him. Every +one had been so kind--so friendly to him. And it was all for this! + +Suddenly a sharp touch at his side told him that for this, indeed, it +had all been. He felt the point of the knife. + +'Mother!' he cried. And opened his eyes again. + +He always felt quite sure afterwards that 'Mother' was the master-word, +the spell of spells. For when he opened his eyes there was no priest, no +white-robed worshippers, no splendour of colour and metal, no Chosen of +the Gods, no knife--only a little boy with a piece of sacking over him, +damp with the night dews, lying on a stone amid the grey ruins of +Stonehenge, and, all about him, a crowd of tourists who had come to see +the sun's first shaft strike the age-old altar of Stonehenge on +Midsummer Day in the morning. And instead of a knife point at his side +there was only the ferrule of the umbrella of an elderly and retired tea +merchant in a mackintosh and an Alpine hat,--a ferrule which had prodded +the sleeping boy so unexpectedly surprised on the very altar stone where +the sun's ray now lingered. + +And then, in a moment, he knew that he had not uttered the spell in +vain, the word of compelling, the word of power: for his mother was +there kneeling beside him. I am sorry to say that he cried as he clung +to her. _We_ cannot all of us be brave, always. + +The tourists were very kind and interested, and the tea merchant +insisted on giving Quentin something out of a flask, which was so nasty +that Quentin only pretended to drink, out of politeness. His mother had +a carriage waiting, and they escaped to it while the tourists were +saying, 'How romantic!' and asking each other whatever in the world had +happened. + + * * * * * + +'But how _did_ you come to be there, darling?' said his mother with warm +hands comfortingly round him. 'I've been looking for you all night. I +went to say good-bye to you yesterday--Oh, Quentin--and I found you'd +run away. How _could_ you?' + +'I'm sorry,' said Quentin, 'if it worried you, I'm sorry. Very, very. I +was going to telegraph to-day.' + +'But where have you been? What have you been doing all night?' she +asked, caressing him. + +'Is it only one night?' said Quentin. 'I don't know exactly what's +happened. It was accidental magic, I think, mother. I'm glad I thought +of the right word to get back, though.' And then he told her all about +it. She held him very tightly and let him talk. + +Perhaps she thought that a little boy to whom accidental magic happened +all in a minute, like that, was not exactly the right little boy for +that excellent school in Salisbury. Anyhow she took him to Egypt with +her to meet his father, and, on the way, they happened to see a doctor +in London who said: 'Nerves' which is a poor name for accidental magic, +and Quentin does not believe it means the same thing at all. + +Quentin's father is well now, and he has left the army, and father and +mother and Quentin live in a jolly, little, old house in Salisbury, and +Quentin is a 'day boy' at that very same school. He and Smithson minor +are the greatest of friends. But he has never told Smithson minor about +the accidental magic. He has learned now, and learned very thoroughly, +that it is not always wise to tell all you know. If he had not owned +that he knew that it was the Stonehenge altar stone! + + * * * * * + +You may think that the accidental magic was all a dream, and that +Quentin dreamed it because his mother had told him so much about +Atlantis. But then, how do you account for his dreaming so much that his +mother had never told him? You think that that part wasn't true, well, +it may have been true for anything I know. And I am sure you don't know +more about it than I do. + + + + +IV + +THE PRINCESS AND THE HEDGE-PIG + + +'But I don't see what we're to _do_' said the Queen for the twentieth +time. + +'Whatever we do will end in misfortune,' said the King gloomily; 'you'll +see it will.' + +They were sitting in the honeysuckle arbour talking things over, while +the nurse walked up and down the terrace with the new baby in her arms. + +'Yes, dear,' said the poor Queen; 'I've not the slightest doubt I +shall.' + +Misfortune comes in many ways, and you can't always know beforehand that +a certain way is the way misfortune will come by: but there are things +misfortune comes after as surely as night comes after day. For instance, +if you let all the water boil away, the kettle will have a hole burnt in +it. If you leave the bath taps running and the waste-pipe closed, the +stairs of your house will, sooner or later, resemble Niagara. If you +leave your purse at home, you won't have it with you when you want to +pay your tram-fare. And if you throw lighted wax matches at your muslin +curtains, your parent will most likely have to pay five pounds to the +fire engines for coming round and blowing the fire out with a wet hose. +Also if you are a king and do not invite the wicked fairy to your +christening parties, she will come all the same. And if you do ask the +wicked fairy, she will come, and in either case it will be the worse for +the new princess. So what is a poor monarch to do? Of course there is +one way out of the difficulty, and that is not to have a christening +party at all. But this offends all the good fairies, and then where are +you? + +All these reflections had presented themselves to the minds of King +Ozymandias and his Queen, and neither of them could deny that they were +in a most awkward situation. They were 'talking it over' for the +hundredth time on the palace terrace where the pomegranates and +oleanders grew in green tubs and the marble balustrade is overgrown with +roses, red and white and pink and yellow. On the lower terrace the royal +nurse was walking up and down with the baby princess that all the fuss +was about. The Queen's eyes followed the baby admiringly. + +'The darling!' she said. 'Oh, Ozymandias, don't you sometimes wish we'd +been poor people?' + +'Never!' said the King decidedly. + +'Well, I do,' said the Queen; 'then we could have had just you and me +and your sister at the christening, and no fear of--oh! I've thought of +something.' + +The King's patient expression showed that he did not think it likely +that she would have thought of anything useful; but at the first five +words his expression changed. You would have said that he pricked up his +ears, if kings had ears that could be pricked up. What she said was-- + +'Let's have a secret christening.' + +'How?' asked the King. + +The Queen was gazing in the direction of the baby with what is called a +'far away look' in her eyes. + +'Wait a minute,' she said slowly. 'I see it all--yes--we'll have the +party in the cellars--you know they're splendid.' + +'My great-grandfather had them built by Lancashire men, yes,' +interrupted the King. + +[Illustration: On the lower terrace the royal nurse was walking up and +down with the baby princess that all the fuss was about.] + +'We'll send out the invitations to look like bills. The baker's boy can +take them. He's a very nice boy. He made baby laugh yesterday when I was +explaining to him about the Standard Bread. We'll just put "1 loaf 3. A +remittance at your earliest convenience will oblige." That'll mean that +1 person is invited for 3 o'clock, and on the back we'll write where and +why in invisible ink. Lemon juice, you know. And the baker's boy shall +be told to ask to see the people--just as they do when they _really_ +mean earliest convenience--and then he shall just whisper: "Deadly +secret. Lemon juice. Hold it to the fire," and come away. Oh, dearest, +do say you approve!' + +The King laid down his pipe, set his crown straight, and kissed the +Queen with great and serious earnestness. + +'You are a wonder,' he said. 'It is the very thing. But the baker's boy +is very small. Can we trust him?' + +'He is nine,' said the Queen, 'and I have sometimes thought that he must +be a prince in disguise. He is so very intelligent.' + +The Queen's plan was carried out. The cellars, which were really +extraordinarily fine, were secretly decorated by the King's confidential +man and the Queen's confidential maid and a few of _their_ confidential +friends whom they knew they could really trust. You would never have +thought they were cellars when the decorations were finished. The walls +were hung with white satin and white velvet, with wreaths of white +roses, and the stone floors were covered with freshly cut turf with +white daisies, brisk and neat, growing in it. + +The invitations were duly delivered by the baker's boy. On them was +written in plain blue ink, + + 'The Royal Bakeries + 1 loaf 3d. + An early remittance will oblige.' + +And when the people held the letter to the fire, as they were +whisperingly instructed to do by the baker's boy, they read in a faint +brown writing:-- + +'King Ozymandias and Queen Eliza invite you to the christening of their +daughter Princess Ozyliza at three on Wednesday in the Palace cellars. + +'_P.S._--We are obliged to be very secret and careful because of wicked +fairies, so please come disguised as a tradesman with a bill, calling +for the last time before it leaves your hands.' + +You will understand by this that the King and Queen were not as well off +as they could wish; so that tradesmen calling at the palace with that +sort of message was the last thing likely to excite remark. But as most +of the King's subjects were not very well off either, this was merely a +bond between the King and his people. They could sympathise with each +other, and understand each other's troubles in a way impossible to most +kings and most nations. + +You can imagine the excitement in the families of the people who were +invited to the christening party, and the interest they felt in their +costumes. The Lord Chief Justice disguised himself as a shoemaker; he +still had his old blue brief-bag by him, and a brief-bag and a boot-bag +are very much alike. The Commander-in-Chief dressed as a dog's meat man +and wheeled a barrow. The Prime Minister appeared as a tailor; this +required no change of dress and only a slight change of expression. And +the other courtiers all disguised themselves perfectly. So did the good +fairies, who had, of course, been invited first of all. Benevola, Queen +of the Good Fairies, disguised herself as a moonbeam, which can go into +any palace and no questions asked. Serena, the next in command, dressed +as a butterfly, and all the other fairies had disguises equally pretty +and tasteful. + +The Queen looked most kind and beautiful, the King very handsome and +manly, and all the guests agreed that the new princess was the most +beautiful baby they had ever seen in all their born days. + +Everybody brought the most charming christening presents concealed +beneath their disguises. The fairies gave the usual gifts, beauty, +grace, intelligence, charm, and so on. + +Everything seemed to be going better than well. But of course you know +it wasn't. The Lord High Admiral had not been able to get a cook's dress +large enough completely to cover his uniform; a bit of an epaulette had +peeped out, and the wicked fairy, Malevola, had spotted it as he went +past her to the palace back door, near which she had been sitting +disguised as a dog without a collar hiding from the police, and enjoying +what she took to be the trouble the royal household were having with +their tradesmen. + +Malevola almost jumped out of her dog-skin when she saw the glitter of +that epaulette. + +'Hullo?' she said, and sniffed quite like a dog. 'I must look into +this,' said she, and disguising herself as a toad, she crept unseen into +the pipe by which the copper emptied itself into the palace moat--for of +course there was a copper in one of the palace cellars as there always +is in cellars in the North Country. + +Now this copper had been a great trial to the decorators. If there is +anything you don't like about your house, you can either try to conceal +it or 'make a feature of it.' And as concealment of the copper was +impossible, it was decided to 'make it a feature' by covering it with +green moss and planting a tree in it, a little apple tree all in bloom. +It had been very much admired. + +Malevola, hastily altering her disguise to that of a mole, dug her way +through the earth that the copper was full of, got to the top and put +out a sharp nose just as Benevola was saying in that soft voice which +Malevola always thought so affected,-- + +'The Princess shall love and be loved all her life long.' + +'So she shall,' said the wicked fairy, assuming her own shape amid the +screams of the audience. 'Be quiet, you silly cuckoo,' she said to the +Lord Chamberlain, whose screams were specially piercing, 'or I'll give +_you_ a christening present too.' + +Instantly there was a dreadful silence. Only Queen Eliza, who had caught +up the baby at Malevola's first word, said feebly,-- + +'Oh, _don't_, dear Malevola.' + +And the King said, 'It isn't exactly a party, don't you know. Quite +informal. Just a few friends dropped in, eh, what?' + +'So I perceive,' said Malevola, laughing that dreadful laugh of hers +which makes other people feel as though they would never be able to +laugh any more. 'Well, I've dropped in too. Let's have a look at the +child.' + +The poor Queen dared not refuse. She tottered forward with the baby in +her arms. + +'Humph!' said Malevola, 'your precious daughter will have beauty and +grace and all the rest of the tuppenny halfpenny rubbish those +niminy-piminy minxes have given her. But she will be turned out of her +kingdom. She will have to face her enemies without a single human being +to stand by her, and she shall never come to her own again until she +finds----' Malevola hesitated. She could not think of anything +sufficiently unlikely--'until she finds,' she repeated---- + +'A thousand spears to follow her to battle,' said a new voice, 'a +thousand spears devoted to her and to her alone.' + +A very young fairy fluttered down from the little apple tree where she +had been hiding among the pink and white blossom. + +'I am very young, I know,' she said apologetically, 'and I've only just +finished my last course of Fairy History. So I know that if a fairy +stops more than half a second in a curse she can't go on, and some one +else may finish it for her. That is so, Your Majesty, isn't it?' she +said, appealing to Benevola. And the Queen of the Fairies said Yes, that +was the law, only it was such an old one most people had forgotten it. + +'You think yourself very clever,' said Malevola, 'but as a matter of +fact you're simply silly. That's the very thing I've provided against. +She _can't_ have any one to stand by her in battle, so she'll lose her +kingdom and every one will be killed, and I shall come to the funeral. +It will be enormous,' she added rubbing her hands at the joyous thought. + +'If you've quite finished,' said the King politely, 'and if you're sure +you won't take any refreshment, may I wish you a very good afternoon?' +He held the door open himself, and Malevola went out chuckling. The +whole of the party then burst into tears. + +'Never mind,' said the King at last, wiping his eyes with the tails of +his ermine. 'It's a long way off and perhaps it won't happen after all.' + + * * * * * + +But of course it did. + +The King did what he could to prepare his daughter for the fight in +which she was to stand alone against her enemies. He had her taught +fencing and riding and shooting, both with the cross bow and the long +bow, as well as with pistols, rifles, and artillery. She learned to dive +and to swim, to run and to jump, to box and to wrestle, so that she grew +up as strong and healthy as any young man, and could, indeed, have got +the best of a fight with any prince of her own age. But the few princes +who called at the palace did not come to fight the Princess, and when +they heard that the Princess had no dowry except the gifts of the +fairies, and also what Malevola's gift had been, they all said they had +just looked in as they were passing and that they must be going now, +thank you. And went. + +And then the dreadful thing happened. The tradesmen, who had for years +been calling for the last time before, etc., really decided to place the +matter in other hands. They called in a neighbouring king who marched +his army into Ozymandias's country, conquered the army--the soldiers' +wages hadn't been paid for years--turned out the King and Queen, paid +the tradesmen's bills, had most of the palace walls papered with the +receipts, and set up housekeeping there himself. + +Now when this happened the Princess was away on a visit to her aunt, the +Empress of Oricalchia, half the world away, and there is no regular post +between the two countries, so that when she came home, travelling with +a train of fifty-four camels, which is rather slow work, and arrived at +her own kingdom, she expected to find all the flags flying and the bells +ringing and the streets decked in roses to welcome her home. + +Instead of which nothing of the kind. The streets were all as dull as +dull, the shops were closed because it was early-closing day, and she +did not see a single person she knew. + +She left the fifty-four camels laden with the presents her aunt had +given her outside the gates, and rode alone on her own pet camel to the +palace, wondering whether perhaps her father had not received the letter +she had sent on ahead by carrier pigeon the day before. + +And when she got to the palace and got off her camel and went in, there +was a strange king on her father's throne and a strange queen sat in her +mother's place at his side. + +'Where's my father?' said the Princess, bold as brass, standing on the +steps of the throne. 'And what are you doing there?' + +'I might ask you that,' said the King. 'Who are you, anyway?' + +'I am the Princess Ozyliza,' said she. + +'Oh, I've heard of you,' said the King. 'You've been expected for some +time. Your father's been evicted, so now you know. No, I can't give you +his address.' + +Just then some one came and whispered to the Queen that fifty-four +camels laden with silks and velvets and monkeys and parakeets and the +richest treasures of Oricalchia were outside the city gate. She put two +and two together, and whispered to the King, who nodded and said: + +'I wish to make a new law.' + +Every one fell flat on his face. The law is so much respected in that +country. + +'No one called Ozyliza is allowed to own property in this kingdom,' said +the King. 'Turn out that stranger.' + +So the Princess was turned out of her father's palace, and went out and +cried in the palace gardens where she had been so happy when she was +little. + +And the baker's boy, who was now the baker's young man, came by with the +standard bread and saw some one crying among the oleanders, and went to +say, 'Cheer up!' to whoever it was. And it was the Princess. He knew her +at once. + +'Oh, Princess,' he said, 'cheer up! Nothing is ever so bad as it seems.' + +'Oh, Baker's Boy,' said she, for she knew him too, 'how can I cheer up? +I am turned out of my kingdom. I haven't got my father's address, and I +have to face my enemies without a single human being to stand by me.' + +[Illustration: Instantly a flight of winged arrows crossed the garden.] + +'That's not true, at any rate,' said the baker's boy, whose name was +Erinaceus, 'you've got me. If you'll let me be your squire, I'll follow +you round the world and help you to fight your enemies.' + +'You won't be let,' said the Princess sadly, 'but I thank you very much +all the same.' + +She dried her eyes and stood up. + +'I must go,' she said, 'and I've nowhere to go to.' + +Now as soon as the Princess had been turned out of the palace, the Queen +said, 'You'd much better have beheaded her for treason.' And the King +said, 'I'll tell the archers to pick her off as she leaves the grounds.' + +So when she stood up, out there among the oleanders, some one on the +terrace cried, 'There she is!' and instantly a flight of winged arrows +crossed the garden. At the cry Erinaceus flung himself in front of her, +clasping her in his arms and turning his back to the arrows. The Royal +Archers were a thousand strong and all excellent shots. Erinaceus felt a +thousand arrows sticking into his back. + +'And now my last friend is dead,' cried the Princess. But being a very +strong princess, she dragged him into the shrubbery out of sight of the +palace, and then dragged him into the wood and called aloud on Benevola, +Queen of the Fairies, and Benevola came. + +'They've killed my only friend,' said the Princess, 'at least.... Shall +I pull out the arrows?' + +'If you do,' said the Fairy, 'he'll certainly bleed to death.' + +'And he'll die if they stay in,' said the Princess. + +'Not necessarily,' said the Fairy; 'let me cut them a little shorter.' +She did, with her fairy pocket-knife. 'Now,' she said, 'I'll do what I +can, but I'm afraid it'll be a disappointment to you both. Erinaceus,' +she went on, addressing the unconscious baker's boy with the stumps of +the arrows still sticking in him, 'I command you, as soon as I have +vanished, to assume the form of a hedge-pig. The hedge-pig,' she +exclaimed to the Princess, 'is the only nice person who can live +comfortably with a thousand spikes sticking out of him. Yes, I know +there are porcupines, but porcupines are vicious and ill-mannered. +Good-bye!' + +And with that she vanished. So did Erinaceus, and the Princess found +herself alone among the oleanders; and on the green turf was a small and +very prickly brown hedge-pig. + +'Oh, dear!' she said, 'now I'm all alone again, and the baker's boy has +given his life for mine, and mine isn't worth having.' + +'It's worth more than all the world,' said a sharp little voice at her +feet. + +'Oh, can you talk?' she said, quite cheered. + +'Why not?' said the hedge-pig sturdily; 'it's only the _form_ of the +hedge-pig I've assumed. I'm Erinaceus inside, all right enough. Pick me +up in a corner of your mantle so as not to prick your darling hands.' + +'You mustn't call names, you know,' said the Princess, 'even your +hedge-pigginess can't excuse such liberties.' + +'I'm sorry, Princess,' said the hedge-pig, 'but I can't help it. Only +human beings speak lies; all other creatures tell the truth. Now I've +got a hedge-pig's tongue it won't speak anything but the truth. And the +truth is that I love you more than all the world.' + +'Well,' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'since you're a hedge-pig I +suppose you may love me, and I may love you. Like pet dogs or gold-fish. +Dear little hedge-pig, then!' + +'Don't!' said the hedge-pig, 'remember I'm the baker's boy in my mind +and soul. My hedge-pigginess is only skin-deep. Pick me up, dearest of +Princesses, and let us go to seek our fortunes.' + +'I think it's my parents I ought to seek,' said the Princess. +'However...' + +She picked up the hedge-pig in the corner of her mantle and they went +away through the wood. + +They slept that night at a wood-cutter's cottage. The wood-cutter was +very kind, and made a nice little box of beech-wood for the hedge-pig to +be carried in, and he told the Princess that most of her father's +subjects were still loyal, but that no one could fight for him because +they would be fighting for the Princess too, and however much they might +wish to do this, Malevola's curse assured them that it was impossible. + +So the Princess put her hedge-pig in its little box and went on, looking +everywhere for her father and mother, and, after more adventures than I +have time to tell you, she found them at last, living in quite a poor +way in a semi-detached villa at Tooting. They were very glad to see her, +but when they heard that she meant to try to get back the kingdom, the +King said: + +'I shouldn't bother, my child, I really shouldn't. We are quite happy +here. I have the pension always given to Deposed Monarchs, and your +mother is becoming a really economical manager.' + +The Queen blushed with pleasure, and said, 'Thank you, dear. But if you +should succeed in turning that wicked usurper out, Ozyliza, I hope I +shall be a better queen than I used to be. I am learning housekeeping at +an evening class at the Crown-maker's Institute.' + +The Princess kissed her parents and went out into the garden to think it +over. But the garden was small and quite full of wet washing hung on +lines. So she went into the road, but that was full of dust and +perambulators. Even the wet washing was better than that, so she went +back and sat down on the grass in a white alley of tablecloths and +sheets, all marked with a crown in indelible ink. And she took the +hedge-pig out of the box. It was rolled up in a ball, but she stroked +the little bit of soft forehead that you can always find if you look +carefully at a rolled-up hedge-pig, and the hedge-pig uncurled and said: + +'I am afraid I was asleep, Princess dear. Did you want me?' + +'You're the only person who knows all about everything,' said she. 'I +haven't told father and mother about the arrows. Now what do you +advise?' + +Erinaceus was flattered at having his advice asked, but unfortunately he +hadn't any to give. + +'It's your work, Princess,' he said. 'I can only promise to do anything +a hedge-pig _can_ do. It's not much. Of course I could die for you, but +that's so useless.' + +'Quite,' said she. + +'I wish I were invisible,' he said dreamily. + +'Oh, where are you?' cried Ozyliza, for the hedge-pig had vanished. + +'Here,' said a sharp little voice. 'You can't see me, but I can see +everything I want to see. And I can see what to do. I'll crawl into my +box, and you must disguise yourself as an old French governess with the +best references and answer the advertisement that the wicked king put +yesterday in the "Usurpers Journal."' + +The Queen helped the Princess to disguise herself, which, of course, the +Queen would never have done if she had known about the arrows; and the +King gave her some of his pension to buy a ticket with, so she went back +quite quickly, by train, to her own kingdom. + +The usurping King at once engaged the French governess to teach his cook +to read French cookery books, because the best recipes are in French. Of +course he had no idea that there was a princess, _the_ Princess, beneath +the governessial disguise. The French lessons were from 6 to 8 in the +morning and from 2 to 4 in the afternoon, and all the rest of the time +the governess could spend as she liked. She spent it walking about the +palace gardens and talking to her invisible hedge-pig. They talked about +everything under the sun, and the hedge-pig was the best of company. + +'How did you become invisible?' she asked one day, and it said, 'I +suppose it was Benevola's doing. Only I think every one gets _one_ wish +granted if they only wish hard enough.' + +On the fifty-fifth day the hedge-pig said, 'Now, Princess dear, I'm +going to begin to get you back your kingdom.' + +And next morning the King came down to breakfast in a dreadful rage with +his face covered up in bandages. + +'This palace is haunted,' he said. 'In the middle of the night a +dreadful spiked ball was thrown in my face. I lighted a match. There was +nothing.' + +The Queen said, 'Nonsense! You must have been dreaming.' + +But next morning it was her turn to come down with a bandaged face. And +the night after, the King had the spiky ball thrown at him again. And +then the Queen had it. And then they both had it, so that they couldn't +sleep at all, and had to lie awake with nothing to think of but their +wickedness. And every five minutes a very little voice whispered: + +'Who stole the kingdom? Who killed the Princess?' till the King and +Queen could have screamed with misery. + +And at last the Queen said, 'We needn't have killed the Princess.' + +And the King said, 'I've been thinking that, too.' + +And next day the King said, 'I don't know that we ought to have taken +this kingdom. We had a really high-class kingdom of our own.' + +'I've been thinking that too,' said the Queen. + +By this time their hands and arms and necks and faces and ears were very +sore indeed, and they were sick with want of sleep. + +'Look here,' said the King, 'let's chuck it. Let's write to Ozymandias +and tell him he can take over his kingdom again. I've had jolly well +enough of this.' + +'Let's,' said the Queen, 'but we can't bring the Princess to life again. +I do wish we could,' and she cried a little through her bandages into +her egg, for it was breakfast time. + +'Do you mean that,' said a little sharp voice, though there was no one +to be seen in the room. The King and Queen clung to each other in +terror, upsetting the urn over the toast-rack. + +'Do you mean it?' said the voice again; 'answer, yes or no.' + +'Yes,' said the Queen, 'I don't know who you are, but, yes, yes, yes. I +can't _think_ how we could have been so wicked.' + +'Nor I,' said the King. + +'Then send for the French governess,' said the voice. + +'Ring the bell, dear,' said the Queen. 'I'm sure what it says is right. +It is the voice of conscience. I've often heard _of_ it, but I never +heard it before.' + +The King pulled the richly-jewelled bell-rope and ten magnificent green +and gold footmen appeared. + +'Please ask Mademoiselle to step this way,' said the Queen. + +The ten magnificent green and gold footmen found the governess beside +the marble basin feeding the gold-fish, and, bowing their ten green +backs, they gave the Queen's message. The governess who, every one +agreed, was always most obliging, went at once to the pink satin +breakfast-room where the King and Queen were sitting, almost +unrecognisable in their bandages. + +'Yes, Your Majesties?' said she curtseying. + +'The voice of conscience,' said the Queen, 'told us to send for you. Is +there any recipe in the French books for bringing shot princesses to +life? If so, will you kindly translate it for us?' + +'There is _one_,' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'and it is quite +simple. Take a king and a queen and the voice of conscience. Place them +in a clean pink breakfast-room with eggs, coffee, and toast. Add a +full-sized French governess. The king and queen must be thoroughly +pricked and bandaged, and the voice of conscience must be very +distinct.' + +'Is that all?' asked the Queen. + +'That's all,' said the governess, 'except that the king and queen must +have two more bandages over their eyes, and keep them on till the voice +of conscience has counted fifty-five very slowly.' + +'If you would be so kind,' said the Queen, 'as to bandage us with our +table napkins? Only be careful how you fold them, because our faces are +very sore, and the royal monogram is very stiff and hard owing to its +being embroidered in seed pearls by special command.' + +'I will be very careful,' said the governess kindly. + +The moment the King and Queen were blindfolded, the 'voice of +conscience' began, 'one, two, three,' and Ozyliza tore off her +disguise, and under the fussy black-and-violet-spotted alpaca of the +French governess was the simple slim cloth-of-silver dress of the +Princess. She stuffed the alpaca up the chimney and the grey wig into +the tea-cosy, and had disposed of the mittens in the coffee-pot and the +elastic-side boots in the coal-scuttle, just as the voice of conscience +said-- + +'Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five!' and stopped. + +The King and Queen pulled off the bandages, and there, alive and well, +with bright clear eyes and pinky cheeks and a mouth that smiled, was the +Princess whom they supposed to have been killed by the thousand arrows +of their thousand archers. + +Before they had time to say a word the Princess said: + +'Good morning, Your Majesties. I am afraid you have had bad dreams. So +have I. Let us all try to forget them. I hope you will stay a little +longer in my palace. You are very welcome. I am so sorry you have been +hurt.' + +'We deserved it,' said the Queen, 'and we want to say we have heard the +voice of conscience, and do please forgive us.' + +'Not another word,' said the Princess, '_do_ let me have some fresh tea +made. And some more eggs. These are quite cold. And the urn's been +upset. We'll have a new breakfast. And I _am_ so sorry your faces are +so sore.' + +'If you kissed them,' said the voice which the King and Queen called the +voice of conscience, 'their faces would not be sore any more.' + +'May I?' said Ozyliza, and kissed the King's ear and the Queen's nose, +all she could get at through the bandages. + +And instantly they were quite well. + +They had a delightful breakfast. Then the King caused the royal +household to assemble in the throne-room, and there announced that, as +the Princess had come to claim the kingdom, they were returning to their +own kingdom by the three-seventeen train on Thursday. + +Every one cheered like mad, and the whole town was decorated and +illuminated that evening. Flags flew from every house, and the bells all +rang, just as the Princess had expected them to do that day when she +came home with the fifty-five camels. All the treasure these had carried +was given back to the Princess, and the camels themselves were restored +to her, hardly at all the worse for wear. + +The usurping King and Queen were seen off at the station by the +Princess, and parted from her with real affection. You see they weren't +completely wicked in their hearts, but they had never had time to think +before. And being kept awake at night forced them to think. And the +'voice of conscience' gave them something to think about. + +They gave the Princess the receipted bills, with which most of the +palace was papered, in return for board and lodging. + +When they were gone a telegram was sent off. + + + Ozymandias Rex, Esq., + Chatsworth, + Delamere Road, + Tooting, + England. + + Please come home at once. Palace vacant. Tenants have + left.--Ozyliza P. + + +And they came immediately. + +When they arrived the Princess told them the whole story, and they +kissed and praised her, and called her their deliverer and the saviour +of her country. + +'_I_ haven't done anything,' she said. 'It was Erinaceus who did +everything, and....' + +'But the fairies said,' interrupted the King, who was never clever at +the best of times, 'that you couldn't get the kingdom back till you had +a thousand spears devoted to you, to you alone.' + +'There are a thousand spears in my back,' said a little sharp voice, +'and they are all devoted to the Princess and to her alone.' + +'Don't!' said the King irritably. 'That voice coming out of nothing +makes me jump.' + +'I can't get used to it either,' said the Queen. 'We must have a gold +cage built for the little animal. But I must say I wish it was visible.' + +'So do I,' said the Princess earnestly. And instantly it was. I suppose +the Princess wished it very hard, for there was the hedge-pig with its +long spiky body and its little pointed face, its bright eyes, its small +round ears, and its sharp, turned-up nose. + +It looked at the Princess but it did not speak. + +'Say something _now_,' said Queen Eliza. 'I should like to _see_ a +hedge-pig speak.' + +'The truth is, if speak I must, I must speak the truth,' said Erinaceus. +'The Princess has thrown away her life-wish to make me visible. I wish +she had wished instead for something nice for herself.' + +'Oh, was that my life-wish?' cried the Princess. 'I didn't know, dear +Hedge-pig, I didn't know. If I'd only known, I would have wished you +back into your proper shape.' + +'If you had,' said the hedge-pig, 'it would have been the shape of a +dead man. Remember that I have a thousand spears in my back, and no man +can carry those and live.' + +The Princess burst into tears. + +[Illustration: 'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand spears,' +she said, 'to give you what you wish.'] + +'Oh, you can't go on being a hedge-pig for ever,' she said, 'it's not +fair. I can't bear it. Oh Mamma! Oh Papa! Oh Benevola!' + +And there stood Benevola before them, a little dazzling figure with blue +butterfly's wings and a wreath of moonshine. + +'Well?' she said, 'well?' + +'Oh, you know,' said the Princess, still crying. 'I've thrown away my +life-wish, and he's still a hedge-pig. Can't you do _anything_!' + +'_I_ can't,' said the Fairy, 'but you can. Your kisses are magic kisses. +Don't you remember how you cured the King and Queen of all the wounds +the hedge-pig made by rolling itself on to their faces in the night?' + +'But she can't go kissing hedge-pigs,' said the Queen, 'it would be most +unsuitable. Besides it would hurt her.' + +But the hedge-pig raised its little pointed face, and the Princess took +it up in her hands. She had long since learned how to do this without +hurting either herself or it. She looked in its little bright eyes. + +'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand spears,' she said, 'to +give you what you wish.' + +'Kiss me once,' it said, 'where my fur is soft. That is all I wish, and +enough to live and die for.' + +She stooped her head and kissed it on its forehead where the fur is +soft, just where the prickles begin. + +And instantly she was standing with her hands on a young man's shoulders +and her lips on a young man's face just where the hair begins and the +forehead leaves off. And all round his feet lay a pile of fallen arrows. + +She drew back and looked at him. + +'Erinaceus,' she said, 'you're different--from the baker's boy I mean.' + +'When I was an invisible hedge-pig,' he said, 'I knew everything. Now I +have forgotten all that wisdom save only two things. One is that I am a +king's son. I was stolen away in infancy by an unprincipled baker, and I +am really the son of that usurping King whose face I rolled on in the +night. It is a painful thing to roll on your father's face when you are +all spiky, but I did it, Princess, for your sake, and for my father's +too. And now I will go to him and tell him all, and ask his +forgiveness.' + +'You won't go away?' said the Princess. 'Ah! don't go away. What shall I +do without my hedge-pig?' + +Erinaceus stood still, looking very handsome and like a prince. + +'What is the other thing that you remember of your hedge-pig wisdom?' +asked the Queen curiously. And Erinaceus answered, not to her but to the +Princess: + +'The other thing, Princess, is that I love you.' + +'Isn't there a third thing, Erinaceus?' said the Princess, looking down. + +'There is, but you must speak that, not I.' + +'Oh,' said the Princess, a little disappointed, 'then you knew that I +loved you?' + +'Hedge-pigs are very wise little beasts,' said Erinaceus, 'but I only +knew that when you told it me.' + +'I--told you?' + +'When you kissed my little pointed face, Princess,' said Erinaceus, 'I +knew then.' + +'My goodness gracious me,' said the King. + +'Quite so,' said Benevola, 'and I wouldn't ask _any one_ to the +wedding.' + +'Except you, dear,' said the Queen. + +'Well, as I happened to be passing ... there's no time like the +present,' said Benevola briskly. 'Suppose you give orders for the +wedding bells to be rung now, at once!' + + + + +V + +SEPTIMUS SEPTIMUSSON + + +The wind was screaming over the marsh. It shook the shutters and rattled +the windows, and the little boy lay awake in the bare attic. His mother +came softly up the ladder stairs shading the flame of the tallow candle +with her hand. + +'I'm not asleep, mother,' said he. And she heard the tears in his voice. + +'Why, silly lad,' she said, sitting down on the straw-bed beside him and +putting the candle on the floor, 'what are you crying for?' + +'It's the wind keeps calling me, mother,' he said. 'It won't let me +alone. It never has since I put up the little weather-cock for it to +play with. It keeps saying, "Wake up, Septimus Septimusson, wake up, +you're the seventh son of a seventh son. You can see the fairies and +hear the beasts speak, and you must go out and seek your fortune." And +I'm afraid, and I don't want to go.' + +'I should think not indeed,' said his mother. 'The wind doesn't talk, +Sep, not really. You just go to sleep like a good boy, and I'll get +father to bring you a gingerbread pig from the fair to-morrow.' + +But Sep lay awake a long time listening to what the wind really did keep +on saying, and feeling ashamed to think how frightened he was of going +out all alone to seek his fortune--a thing all the boys in books were +only too happy to do. + +Next evening father brought home the loveliest gingerbread pig with +currant eyes. Sep ate it, and it made him less anxious than ever to go +out into the world where, perhaps, no one would give him gingerbread +pigs ever any more. + +Before he went to bed he ran down to the shore where a great new harbour +was being made. The workmen had been blasting the big rocks, and on one +of the rocks a lot of mussels were sticking. He stood looking at them, +and then suddenly he heard a lot of little voices crying, 'Oh Sep, we're +so frightened, we're choking.' + +The voices were thin and sharp as the edges of mussel shells. They were +indeed the voices of the mussels themselves. + +'Oh dear,' said Sep, 'I'm so sorry, but I can't move the rock back into +the sea, you know. Can I now?' + +'No,' said the mussels, 'but if you speak to the wind,--you know his +language and he's very fond of you since you made that toy for +him,--he'll blow the sea up till the waves wash us back into deep +water.' + +'But I'm afraid of the wind,' said Sep, 'it says things that frighten +me.' + +'Oh very well,' said the mussels, 'we don't want you to be afraid. We +can die all right if necessary.' + +Then Sep shivered and trembled. + +'Go away,' said the thin sharp voices. 'We'll die--but we'd rather die +in our own brave company.' + +'I know I'm a coward,' said Sep. 'Oh, wait a minute.' + +'Death won't wait,' said the little voices. + +'I can't speak to the wind, I won't,' said Sep, and almost at the same +moment he heard himself call out, 'Oh wind, please come and blow up the +waves to save the poor mussels.' + +The wind answered with a boisterous shout-- + +'All right, my boy,' it shrieked, 'I'm coming.' And come it did. And +when it had attended to the mussels it came and whispered to Sep in his +attic. And to his great surprise, instead of covering his head with the +bed-clothes, as usual, and trying not to listen, he found himself +sitting up in bed and talking to the wind, man to man. + +'Why,' he said, 'I'm not afraid of you any more.' + +'Of course not, we're friends now,' said the wind. 'That's because we +joined together to do a kindness to some one. There's nothing like that +for making people friends.' + +'Oh,' said Sep. + +'Yes,' said the wind, 'and now, old chap, when will you go out and seek +your fortune? Remember how poor your father is, and the fortune, if you +find it, won't be just for you, but for your father and mother and the +others.' + +'Oh,' said Sep, 'I didn't think of that.' + +'Yes,' said the wind, 'really, my dear fellow, I do hate to bother you, +but it's better to fix a time. Now when shall we start?' + +'We?' said Sep. 'Are you going with me?' + +'I'll see you a bit of the way,' said the wind. 'What do you say now? +Shall we start to-night? There's no time like the present.' + +'I do hate going,' said Sep. + +'Of course you do!' said the wind, cordially. 'Come along. Get into your +things, and we'll make a beginning.' + +So Sep dressed, and he wrote on his slate in very big letters, 'Gone to +seek our fortune,' and he put it on the table so that his mother should +see it when she came down in the morning. And he went out of the cottage +and the wind kindly shut the door after him. + +The wind gently pushed him down to the shore, and there he got into his +father's boat, which was called the _Septimus and Susie_, after his +father and mother, and the wind carried him across to another country +and there he landed. + +'Now,' said the wind, clapping him on the back, 'off you go, and good +luck to you!' + +And it turned round and took the boat home again. + +When Sep's mother found the writing on the slate, and his father found +the boat gone they feared that Sep was drowned, but when the wind +brought the boat back wrong way up, they were quite sure, and they both +cried for many a long day. + +The wind tried to tell them that Sep was all right, but they couldn't +understand wind-talk, and they only said, 'Drat the wind,' and fastened +the shutters up tight, and put wedges in the windows. + +Sep walked along the straight white road that led across the new +country. He had no more idea how to look for _his_ fortune than you +would have if you suddenly left off reading this and went out of your +front door to seek _yours_. + +However, he had made a start, and that is always something. When he had +gone exactly seven miles on that straight foreign road, between strange +trees, and bordered with flowers he did not know the names of, he heard +a groaning in the wood, and some one sighing and saying, 'Oh, how hard +it is, to have to die and never see my wife and the little cubs again.' + +The voice was rough as a lion's mane, and strong as a lion's claws, and +Sep was very frightened. But he said, 'I'm not afraid,' and then oddly +enough he found he had spoken the truth--he wasn't afraid. + +He broke through the bushes and found that the person who had spoken was +indeed a lion. A javelin had pierced its shoulder and fastened it to a +great tree. + +'All right,' cried Sep, 'hold still a minute, sir.' + +He got out his knife and cut and cut at the shaft of the javelin till he +was able to break it off. Then the lion drew back and the broken shaft +passed through the wound and the broken javelin was left sticking in the +tree. + +'I'm really extremely obliged, my dear fellow,' said the lion warmly. +'Pray command me, if there's any little thing I can do for you at any +time.' + +'Don't mention it,' said Sep with proper politeness, 'delighted to have +been of use to you, I'm sure.' + +So they parted. As Sep scrambled through the bushes back to the road he +kicked against an axe that lay on the ground. + +'Hullo,' said he, 'some poor woodman's dropped this, and not been able +to find it. I'll take it along--perhaps I may meet him.' + +He was getting very tired and very hungry, and presently he sat down to +rest under a chestnut-tree, and he heard two little voices talking in +the branches, voices soft as a squirrel's fur, and bright as a +squirrel's eyes. They were, indeed, the voices of two squirrels. + +'Hush,' said one, 'there's some one below.' + +'Oh,' said the other, 'it's a horrid boy. Let's scurry away.' + +'I'm not a horrid boy,' said Sep. 'I'm the seventh son of a seventh +son.' + +'Oh,' said Mrs. Squirrel, 'of course that makes all the difference. Have +some nuts?' + +'Rather,' said Sep. 'At least I mean, yes, if you please.' + +So the squirrels brought nuts down to him, and when he had eaten as many +as he wanted they filled his pockets, and then in return he chopped all +the lower boughs off the chestnut-tree, so that boys who were _not_ +seventh sons could not climb up and interfere with the squirrels' +housekeeping arrangements. + +Then they parted, the best of friends, and Sep went on. + +'I haven't found my fortune yet,' said he, 'but I've made a friend or +two.' + +And just as he was saying that, he turned a corner of the road and met +an old gentleman in a fur-lined coat riding a fine, big, grey horse. + +'Hullo!' said the gentleman. 'Who are you, and where are you off to so +bright and early?' + +'I'm Septimus Septimusson,' said Sep, 'and I'm going to seek my +fortune.' + +'And you've taken an axe to help you carve your way to glory?' + +'No,' said Sep, 'I found it, and I suppose some one lost it. So I'm +bringing it along in case I meet him.' + +'Heavy, isn't it?' said the old gentleman. + +'Yes,' said Sep. + +'Then I'll carry it for you,' said the old gentleman, 'for it's one that +my head forester lost yesterday. And now come along with me, for you're +the boy I've been looking for for seven years--an honest boy and the +seventh son of a seventh son.' + +So Sep went home with the gentleman, who was a great lord in that +country, and he lived in that lord's castle and was taught everything +that a gentleman ought to know. And in return he told the lord all about +the ways of birds and beasts--for as he understood their talk he knew +more about them than any one else in that country. And the lord wrote it +all down in a book, and half the people said it was wonderfully clever, +and the other half said it was nonsense, and how could he know. This was +fame, and the lord was very pleased. But though the old lord was so +famous he would not leave his castle, for he had a hump that an +enchanter had fastened on to him, and he couldn't bear to be seen with +it. + +'But you'll get rid of it for me some day, my boy,' he used to say. 'No +one but the seventh son of a seventh son and an honest boy can do it. So +all the doctors say.' + +So Sep grew up. And when he was twenty-one--straight as a lance and +handsome as a picture--the old lord said to him. + +'My boy, you've been like a son to me, but now it's time you got married +and had sons of your own. Is there any girl you'd like to marry?' + +'No,' said Sep, 'I never did care much for girls.' + +The old lord laughed. + +'Then you must set out again and seek your fortune once more,' he said, +'because no man has really found his fortune till he's found the lady +who is his heart's lady. Choose the best horse in the stable, and off +you go, lad, and my blessing go with you.' + +So Sep chose a good red horse and set out, and he rode straight to the +great city, that shone golden across the plain, and when he got there he +found every one crying. + +'Why, whatever is the matter?' said Sep, reining in the red horse in +front of a smithy, where the apprentices were crying on to the fires, +and the smith was dropping tears on the anvil. + +'Why the Princess is dying,' said the blacksmith blowing his nose. 'A +nasty, wicked magician--he had a spite against the King, and he got at +the Princess when she was playing ball in the garden, and now she's +blind and deaf and dumb. And she won't eat.' + +'And she'll die,' said the first apprentice. + +'And she _is_ such a dear,' said the other apprentice. + +Sep sat still on the red horse thinking. + +'Has anything been done?' he asked. + +'Oh yes,' said the blacksmith. 'All the doctors have seen her, but they +can't do anything. And the King has advertised in the usual way, that +any one who can cure her may marry her. But it's no good. King's sons +aren't what they used to be. A silly lot they are nowadays, all taken up +with football and cricket and golf.' + +'Humph,' said Sep, 'thank you. Which is the way to the palace?' + +The blacksmith pointed, and then burst into tears again. Sep rode on. + +When he got to the palace he asked to see the King. Every one there was +crying too, from the footman who opened the door to the King, who was +sitting upon his golden throne and looking at his fine collection of +butterflies through floods of tears. + +'Oh dear me yes, young man,' said the King, 'you may _see_ her and +welcome, but it's no good.' + +'We can but try,' said Sep. So he was taken to the room where the +Princess sat huddled up on her silver throne among the white velvet +cushions with her crown all on one side, crying out of her poor blind +eyes, so that the tears ran down over her green gown with the red roses +on it. + +And directly he saw her he knew that she was the only girl, Princess as +she was, with a crown and a throne, who could ever be his heart's lady. +He went up to her and kneeled at her side and took her hand and kissed +it. The Princess started. She could not see or hear him, but at the +touch of his hand and his lips she knew that he was her heart's lord, +and she threw her arms round his neck, and cried more than ever. + +He held her in his arms and stroked her hair till she stopped crying, +and then he called for bread and milk. This was brought in a silver +basin, and he fed her with it as you feed a little child. + +The news ran through the city, 'The Princess has eaten,' and all the +bells were set ringing. Sep said good-night to his Princess and went to +bed in the best bedroom of the palace. Early in the grey morning he got +up and leaned out of the open window and called to his old friend the +wind. + +And the wind came bustling in and clapped him on the back, crying, +'Well, my boy, and what can I do for you? Eh?' + +Sep told him all about the Princess. + +'Well,' said the wind, 'you've not done so badly. At any rate you've got +her love. And you couldn't have got that with anybody's help but your +own. Now, of course, the thing to do is to find the wicked Magician.' + +'Of course,' said Sep. + +'Well--I travel a good deal--I'll keep my eyes open, and let you know +if I hear anything.' + +Sep spent the day holding the Princess's hand, and feeding her at meal +times; and that night the wind rattled his window and said, 'Let me in.' + +It came in very noisily, and said, 'Well, I've found your Magician, he's +in the forest pretending to be a mole.' + +'How can I find him?' said Sep. + +'Haven't you any friends in the forest?' asked the wind. + +Then Sep remembered his friends the squirrels, and he mounted his horse +and rode away to the chestnut-tree where they lived. They were charmed +to see him grown so tall and strong and handsome, and when he had told +them his story they said at once-- + +'Oh yes! delighted to be of any service to you.' And they called to all +their little brothers and cousins, and uncles and nephews to search the +forest for a mole that wasn't really a mole, and quite soon they found +him, and hustled and shoved him along till he was face to face with Sep, +in a green glade. The glade was green, but all the bushes and trees +around were red-brown with squirrel fur, and shining bright with +squirrel eyes. + +Then Sep said, 'Give the Princess back her eyes and her hearing and her +voice.' + +But the mole would not. + +'Give the Princess back her eyes and her hearing and her voice,' said +Sep again. But the mole only gnashed his wicked teeth and snarled. + +And then in a minute the squirrels fell on the mole and killed it, and +Sep thanked them and rode back to the palace, for, of course, he knew +that when a magician is killed, all his magic unworks itself instantly. + +But when he got to his Princess she was still as deaf as a post and as +dumb as a stone, and she was still crying bitterly with her poor blind +eyes, till the tears ran down her grass-green gown with the red roses on +it. + +'Cheer up, my sweetheart,' he said, though he knew she couldn't hear +him, and as he spoke the wind came in at the open window, and spoke very +softly, because it was in the presence of the Princess. + +'All right,' it whispered, 'the old villain gave us the slip that +journey. Got out of the mole-skin in the very nick of time. He's a wild +boar now.' + +'Come,' said Sep, fingering his sword-hilt, 'I'll kill that myself +without asking it any questions.' + +So he went and fought it. But it was a most uncommon boar, as big as a +horse, with tusks half a yard long; and although Sep wounded it it +jerked the sword out of his hand with its tusk, and was just going to +trample him out of life with its hard, heavy pigs'-feet, when a great +roar sounded through the forest. + +'Ah! would ye?' said the lion, and fastened teeth and claws in the great +boar's back. The boar turned with a scream of rage, but the lion had got +a good grip, and it did not loosen teeth or claws till the boar lay +quiet. + +'Is he dead?' asked Sep when he came to himself. + +'Oh yes, he's _dead_ right enough,' said the lion; but the wind came up +puffing and blowing, and said: + +'It's no good, he's got away again, and now he's a fish. I was just a +minute too late to see _what_ fish. An old oyster told me about it, only +he hadn't the wit to notice what particular fish the scoundrel changed +into.' + +So then Sep went back to the palace, and he said to the King: + +'Let me marry the dear Princess, and we'll go out and seek our fortune. +I've got to kill that Magician, and I'll do it too, or my name's not +Septimus Septimusson. But it may take years and years, and I can't be +away from the Princess all that time, because she won't eat unless I +feed her. You see the difficulty, Sire?' + +The King saw it. And that very day Sep was married to the Princess in +her green gown with the red roses on it, and they set out together. + +The wind went with them, and the wind, or something else, seemed to say +to Sep, 'Go home, take your wife home to your mother.' + +So he did. He crossed the land and he crossed the sea, and he went up +the red-brick path to his father's cottage, and he peeped in at the door +and said: + +'Father, mother, here's my wife.' + +They were so pleased to see him--for they had thought him dead, that +they didn't notice the Princess at first, and when they did notice her +they wondered at her beautiful face and her beautiful gown--but it +wasn't till they had all settled down to supper--boiled rabbit it +was--and they noticed Sep feeding his wife as one feeds a baby that they +saw that she was blind. + +And then all the story had to be told. + +'Well, well,' said the fisherman, 'you and your wife bide here with us. +I daresay I'll catch that old sinner in my nets one of these fine days.' +But he never did. And Sep and his wife lived with the old people. And +they were happy after a fashion--but of an evening Sep used to wander +and wonder, and wonder and wander by the sea-shore, wondering as he +wandered whether he wouldn't ever have the luck to catch that fish. + +And one evening as he wandered wondering he heard a little, sharp, thin +voice say: + +'Sep. I've got it.' + +'What?' asked Sep, forgetting his manners. + +'I've got it,' said a big mussel on a rock close by him, 'the magic +stone that the Magician does his enchantments with. He dropped it out of +his mouth and I shut my shells on it--and now he's sweeping up and down +the sea like a mad fish, looking for it--for he knows he can never +change into anything else unless he gets it back. Here, take the nasty +thing, it's making me feel quite ill.' + +It opened its shells wide, and Sep saw a pearl. He reached out his hand +and took it. + +'That's better,' said the mussel, washing its shells out with salt +water. + +'Can _I_ do magic with it?' Sep eagerly asked. + +'No,' said the mussel sadly, 'it's of no use to any one but the owner. +Now, if I were you, I'd get into a boat, and if your friend the wind +will help us, I believe we really can do the trick.' + +'I'm at your service, of course,' said the wind, getting up instantly. + +The mussel whispered to the wind, who rushed off at once; and Sep +launched his boat. + +'Now,' said the mussel, 'you get into the very middle of the sea--or as +near as you can guess it. The wind will warn all the other fishes.' As +he spoke he disappeared in the dark waters. + +Sep got the boat into the middle of the sea--as near as he could guess +it--and waited. + +After a long time he saw something swirling about in a sort of whirlpool +about a hundred yards from his boat, but when he tried to move the boat +towards it her bows ran on to something hard. + +'Keep still, keep still, keep still,' cried thousands and thousands of +sharp, thin, little voices. 'You'll kill us if you move.' + +Then he looked over the boat side, and saw that the hard something was +nothing but thousands and thousands of mussels all jammed close +together, and through the clear water more and more were coming and +piling themselves together. Almost at once his boat was slowly +lifted--the top of the mussel heap showed through the water, and there +he was, high and dry on a mussel reef. + +And in all that part of the sea the water was disappearing, and as far +as the eye could reach stretched a great plain of purple and gray--the +shells of countless mussels. + +Only at one spot there was still a splashing. + +Then a mussel opened its shell and spoke. + +'We've got him,' it said. 'We've piled our selves up till we've filled +this part of the sea. The wind warned all the good fishes--and we've got +the old traitor in a little pool over there. Get out and walk over our +backs--we'll all lie sideways so as not to hurt you. You must catch the +fish--but whatever you do don't kill it till we give the word.' + +Sep promised, and he got out and walked over the mussels to the pool, +and when he saw the wicked soul of the Magician looking out through the +round eyes of a big finny fish he remembered all that his Princess had +suffered, and he longed to draw his sword and kill the wicked thing then +and there. + +But he remembered his promise. He threw a net about it, and dragged it +back to the boat. + +The mussels dispersed and let the boat down again into the water--and he +rowed home, towing the evil fish in the net by a line. + +He beached the boat, and looked along the shore. The shore looked a very +odd colour. And well it might, for every bit of the sand was covered +with purple-gray mussels. They had all come up out of the sea--leaving +just one little bit of real yellow sand for him to beach the boat on. + +'Now,' said millions of sharp thin little voices, 'Kill him, kill him!' + +Sep drew his sword and waded into the shallow surf and killed the evil +fish with one strong stroke. + +Then such a shout went up all along the shore as that shore had never +heard; and all along the shore where the mussels had been, stood men in +armour and men in smock-frocks and men in leather aprons and huntsmen's +coats and women and children--a whole nation of people. Close by the +boat stood a King and Queen with crowns upon their heads. + +'Thank you, Sep,' said the King, 'you've saved us all. I am the King +Mussel, doomed to be a mussel so long as that wretch lived. You have set +us all free. And look!' + +Down the path from the shore came running his own Princess, who hung +round his neck crying his name and looking at him with the most +beautiful eyes in the world. + +'Come,' said the Mussel King, 'we have no son. You shall be our son and +reign after us.' + +'Thank you,' said Sep, 'but _this_ is my father,' and he presented the +old fisherman to His Majesty. + +'Then let him come with us,' said the King royally, 'he can help me +reign, or fish in the palace lake, whichever he prefers.' + +'Thankee,' said Sep's father, 'I'll come and fish.' + +'Your mother too,' said the Mussel Queen, kissing Sep's mother. + +'Ah,' said Sep's mother, 'you're a lady, every inch. I'll go to the +world's end with you.' + +So they all went back by way of the foreign country where Sep had found +his Princess, and they called on the old lord. He had lost his hump, and +they easily persuaded him to come with them. + +'You can help me reign if you like, or we have a nice book or two in the +palace library,' said the Mussel King. + +'Thank you,' said the old lord, 'I'll come and be your librarian if I +may. Reigning isn't at all in my line.' + +Then they went on to Sep's father-in-law, and when he saw how happy they +all were together he said: + +'Bless my beard but I've half a mind to come with you.' + +'Come along,' said the Mussel King, 'you shall help me reign if you +like ... or....' + +'No, thank you,' said the other King very quickly, 'I've had enough of +reigning. My kingdom can buy a President and be a republic if it likes. +I'm going to catch butterflies.' + +And so he does, most happily, up to this very minute. + +And Sep and his dear Princess are as happy as they deserve to be. Some +people say we are all as happy as we deserve to be--but I am not sure. + + + + +VI + +THE WHITE CAT + + +The White Cat lived at the back of a shelf at the darkest end of the +inside attic which was nearly dark all over. It had lived there for +years, because one of its white china ears was chipped, so that it was +no longer a possible ornament for the spare bedroom. + +Tavy found it at the climax of a wicked and glorious afternoon. He had +been left alone. The servants were the only other people in the house. +He had promised to be good. He had meant to be good. And he had not +been. He had done everything you can think of. He had walked into the +duck pond, and not a stitch of his clothes but had had to be changed. +He had climbed on a hay rick and fallen off it, and had not broken his +neck, which, as cook told him, he richly deserved to do. He had found a +mouse in the trap and put it in the kitchen tea-pot, so that when cook +went to make tea it jumped out at her, and affected her to screams +followed by tears. Tavy was sorry for this, of course, and said so like +a man. He had only, he explained, meant to give her a little start. In +the confusion that followed the mouse, he had eaten all the +black-currant jam that was put out for kitchen tea, and for this too, he +apologised handsomely as soon as it was pointed out to him. He had +broken a pane of the greenhouse with a stone and.... But why pursue the +painful theme? The last thing he had done was to explore the attic, +where he was never allowed to go, and to knock down the White Cat from +its shelf. + +The sound of its fall brought the servants. The cat was not broken--only +its other ear was chipped. Tavy was put to bed. But he got out as soon +as the servants had gone downstairs, crept up to the attic, secured the +Cat, and washed it in the bath. So that when mother came back from +London, Tavy, dancing impatiently at the head of the stairs, in a very +wet night-gown, flung himself upon her and cried, 'I've been awfully +naughty, and I'm frightfully sorry, and please may I have the White Cat +for my very own?' + +He was much sorrier than he had expected to be when he saw that mother +was too tired even to want to know, as she generally did, exactly how +naughty he had been. She only kissed him, and said: + +'I am sorry you've been naughty, my darling. Go back to bed now. +Good-night.' + +Tavy was ashamed to say anything more about the China Cat, so he went +back to bed. But he took the Cat with him, and talked to it and kissed +it, and went to sleep with its smooth shiny shoulder against his cheek. + +In the days that followed, he was extravagantly good. Being good seemed +as easy as being bad usually was. This may have been because mother +seemed so tired and ill; and gentlemen in black coats and high hats came +to see mother, and after they had gone she used to cry. (These things +going on in a house sometimes make people good; sometimes they act just +the other way.) Or it may have been because he had the China Cat to talk +to. Anyhow, whichever way it was, at the end of the week mother said: + +'Tavy, you've been a dear good boy, and a great comfort to me. You must +have tried very hard to be good.' + +It was difficult to say, 'No, I haven't, at least not since the first +day,' but Tavy got it said, and was hugged for his pains. + +'You wanted,' said mother, 'the China Cat. Well, you may have it.' + +'For my very own?' + +'For your very own. But you must be very careful not to break it. And +you mustn't give it away. It goes with the house. Your Aunt Jane made me +promise to keep it in the family. It's very, very old. Don't take it out +of doors for fear of accidents.' + +'I love the White Cat, mother,' said Tavy. 'I love it better'n all my +toys.' + +Then mother told Tavy several things, and that night when he went to bed +Tavy repeated them all faithfully to the China Cat, who was about six +inches high and looked very intelligent. + +'So you see,' he ended, 'the wicked lawyer's taken nearly all mother's +money, and we've got to leave our own lovely big White House, and go and +live in a horrid little house with another house glued on to its side. +And mother does hate it so.' + +'I don't wonder,' said the China Cat very distinctly. + +'_What!_' said Tavy, half-way into his night-shirt. + +'I said, I don't wonder, Octavius,' said the China Cat, and rose from +her sitting position, stretched her china legs and waved her white china +tail. + +'You can speak?' said Tavy. + +'Can't you see I can?--hear I mean?' said the Cat. 'I belong to you now, +so I can speak to you. I couldn't before. It wouldn't have been +manners.' + +Tavy, his night-shirt round his neck, sat down on the edge of the bed +with his mouth open. + +'Come, don't look so silly,' said the Cat, taking a walk along the high +wooden mantelpiece, 'any one would think you didn't _like_ me to talk to +you.' + +'I _love_ you to,' said Tavy recovering himself a little. + +'Well then,' said the Cat. + +'May I touch you?' Tavy asked timidly. + +'Of course! I belong to you. Look out!' The China Cat gathered herself +together and jumped. Tavy caught her. + +It was quite a shock to find when one stroked her that the China Cat, +though alive, was still china, hard, cold, and smooth to the touch, and +yet perfectly brisk and absolutely bendable as any flesh and blood cat. + +'Dear, dear white pussy,' said Tavy, 'I do love you.' + +'And I love you,' purred the Cat, 'otherwise I should never have lowered +myself to begin a conversation.' + +'I wish you were a real cat,' said Tavy. + +'I am,' said the Cat. 'Now how shall we amuse ourselves? I suppose you +don't care for sport--mousing, I mean?' + +'I never tried,' said Tavy, 'and I think I rather wouldn't.' + +'Very well then, Octavius,' said the Cat. 'I'll take you to the White +Cat's Castle. Get into bed. Bed makes a good travelling carriage, +especially when you haven't any other. Shut your eyes.' + +Tavy did as he was told. Shut his eyes, but could not keep them shut. He +opened them a tiny, tiny chink, and sprang up. He was not in bed. He was +on a couch of soft beast-skin, and the couch stood in a splendid hall, +whose walls were of gold and ivory. By him stood the White Cat, no +longer china, but real live cat--and fur--as cats should be. + +'Here we are,' she said. 'The journey didn't take long, did it? Now +we'll have that splendid supper, out of the fairy tale, with the +invisible hands waiting on us.' + +She clapped her paws--paws now as soft as white velvet--and a +table-cloth floated into the room; then knives and forks and spoons and +glasses, the table was laid, the dishes drifted in, and they began to +eat. There happened to be every single thing Tavy liked best to eat. +After supper there was music and singing, and Tavy, having kissed a +white, soft, furry forehead, went to bed in a gold four-poster with a +counterpane of butterflies' wings. He awoke at home. On the mantelpiece +sat the White Cat, looking as though butter would not melt in her mouth. +And all her furriness had gone with her voice. She was silent--and +china. + +Tavy spoke to her. But she would not answer. Nor did she speak all day. +Only at night when he was getting into bed she suddenly mewed, +stretched, and said: + +'Make haste, there's a play acted to-night at my castle.' + +Tavy made haste, and was rewarded by another glorious evening in the +castle of the White Cat. + +And so the weeks went on. Days full of an ordinary little boy's joys and +sorrows, goodnesses and badnesses. Nights spent by a little Prince in +the Magic Castle of the White Cat. + +Then came the day when Tavy's mother spoke to him, and he, very scared +and serious, told the China Cat what she had said. + +'I knew this would happen,' said the Cat. 'It always does. So you're to +leave your house next week. Well, there's only one way out of the +difficulty. Draw your sword, Tavy, and cut off my head and tail.' + +'And then will you turn into a Princess, and shall I have to marry you?' +Tavy asked with horror. + +'No, dear--no,' said the Cat reassuringly. 'I sha'n't turn into +anything. But you and mother will turn into happy people. I shall just +not _be_ any more--for you.' + +'Then I won't do it,' said Tavy. + +'But you must. Come, draw your sword, like a brave fairy Prince, and cut +off my head.' + +The sword hung above his bed, with the helmet and breast-plate Uncle +James had given him last Christmas. + +'I'm not a fairy Prince,' said the child. 'I'm Tavy--and I love you.' + +'You love your mother better,' said the Cat. 'Come cut my head off. The +story always ends like that. You love mother best. It's for her sake.' + +'Yes.' Tavy was trying to think it out. 'Yes, I love mother best. But I +love _you_. And I won't cut off your head,--no, not even for mother.' + +'Then,' said the Cat, 'I must do what I can!' + +She stood up, waving her white china tail, and before Tavy could stop +her she had leapt, not, as before, into his arms, but on to the wide +hearthstone. + +It was all over--the China Cat lay broken inside the high brass fender. +The sound of the smash brought mother running. + +'What is it?' she cried. 'Oh, Tavy--the China Cat!' + +'She would do it,' sobbed Tavy. 'She wanted me to cut off her head'n I +wouldn't.' + +'Don't talk nonsense, dear,' said mother sadly. 'That only makes it +worse. Pick up the pieces.' + +'There's only two pieces,' said Tavy. 'Couldn't you stick her together +again?' + +'Why,' said mother, holding the pieces close to the candle. 'She's been +broken before. And mended.' + +'I knew that,' said Tavy, still sobbing. 'Oh, my dear White Cat, oh, oh, +oh!' The last 'oh' was a howl of anguish. + +'Come, crying won't mend her,' said mother. 'Look, there's another piece +of her, close to the shovel.' + +Tavy stooped. + +'That's not a piece of cat,' he said, and picked it up. + +It was a pale parchment label, tied to a key. Mother held it to the +candle and read: '_Key of the lock behind the knot in the mantelpiece +panel in the white parlour._' + +'Tavy! I wonder! But ... where did it come from?' + +'Out of my White Cat, I s'pose,' said Tavy, his tears stopping. 'Are you +going to see what's in the mantelpiece panel, mother? Are you? Oh, do +let me come and see too!' + +'You don't deserve,' mother began, and ended,--'Well, put your +dressing-gown on then.' + +They went down the gallery past the pictures and the stuffed birds and +tables with china on them and downstairs on to the white parlour. But +they could not see any knot in the mantelpiece panel, because it was all +painted white. But mother's fingers felt softly all over it, and found a +round raised spot. It was a knot, sure enough. Then she scraped round it +with her scissors, till she loosened the knot, and poked it out with the +scissors point. + +'I don't suppose there's any keyhole there really,' she said. But there +was. And what is more, the key fitted. The panel swung open, and inside +was a little cupboard with two shelves. What was on the shelves? There +were old laces and old embroideries, old jewelry and old silver; there +was money, and there were dusty old papers that Tavy thought most +uninteresting. But mother did not think them uninteresting. She laughed, +and cried, or nearly cried, and said: + +'Oh, Tavy, this was why the China Cat was to be taken such care of!' +Then she told him how, a hundred and fifty years before, the Head of the +House had gone out to fight for the Pretender, and had told his daughter +to take the greatest care of the China Cat. 'I will send you word of the +reason by a sure hand,' he said, for they parted on the open square, +where any spy might have overheard anything. And he had been killed by +an ambush not ten miles from home,--and his daughter had never known. +But she had kept the Cat. + +'And now it has saved us,' said mother. 'We can stay in the dear old +house, and there are two other houses that will belong to us too, I +think. And, oh, Tavy, would you like some pound-cake and ginger-wine, +dear?' + +Tavy did like. And had it. + +The China Cat was mended, but it was put in the glass-fronted corner +cupboard in the drawing-room, because it had saved the House. + +Now I dare say you'll think this is all nonsense, and a made-up story. +Not at all. If it were, how would you account for Tavy's finding, the +very next night, fast asleep on his pillow, his own white Cat--the furry +friend that the China Cat used to turn into every evening--the dear +hostess who had amused him so well in the White Cat's fairy Palace? + +It was she, beyond a doubt, and that was why Tavy didn't mind a bit +about the China Cat being taken from him and kept under glass. You may +think that it was just any old stray white cat that had come in by +accident. Tavy knows better. It has the very same tender tone in its +purr that the magic White Cat had. It will not talk to Tavy, it is true; +but Tavy can and does talk to it. But the thing that makes it perfectly +certain that it is the White Cat is that the tips of its two ears are +missing--just as the China Cat's ears were. If you say that it might +have lost its ear-tips in battle you are the kind of person who always +_makes_ difficulties, and you may be quite sure that the kind of +splendid magics that happened to Tavy will never happen to _you_. + + + + +VII + +BELINDA AND BELLAMANT; OR THE BELLS OF CARRILLON-LAND + + +There is a certain country where a king is never allowed to reign while +a queen can be found. They like queens much better than kings in that +country. I can't think why. If some one has tried to teach you a little +history, you will perhaps think that this is the Salic law. But it +isn't. In the biggest city of that odd country there is a great +bell-tower (higher than the clock-tower of the Houses of Parliament, +where they put M.P.'s who forget their manners). This bell-tower had +seven bells in it, very sweet-toned splendid bells, made expressly to +ring on the joyful occasions when a princess was born who would be queen +some day. And the great tower was built expressly for the bells to ring +in. So you see what a lot they thought of queens in that country. Now in +all the bells there are bell-people--it is their voices that you hear +when the bells ring. All that about its being the clapper of the bell is +mere nonsense, and would hardly deceive a child. I don't know why people +say such things. Most Bell-people are very energetic busy folk, who love +the sound of their own voices, and hate being idle, and when nearly two +hundred years had gone by, and no princesses had been born, they got +tired of living in bells that were never rung. So they slipped out of +the belfry one fine frosty night, and left the big beautiful bells +empty, and went off to find other homes. One of them went to live in a +dinner-bell, and one in a school-bell, and the rest all found +homes--they did not mind where--just anywhere, in fact, where they could +find any Bell-person kind enough to give them board and lodging. And +every one was surprised at the increased loudness in the voices of these +hospitable bells. For, of course, the Bell-people from the belfry did +their best to help in the housework as polite guests should, and always +added their voices to those of their hosts on all occasions when +bell-talk was called for. And the seven big beautiful bells in the +belfry were left hollow and dark and quite empty, except for the +clappers who did not care about the comforts of a home. + +Now of course a good house does not remain empty long, especially when +there is no rent to pay, and in a very short time the seven bells all +had tenants, and they were all the kind of folk that no respectable +Bell-people would care to be acquainted with. + +They had been turned out of other bells--cracked bells and broken bells, +the bells of horses that had been lost in snowstorms or of ships that +had gone down at sea. They hated work, and they were a glum, silent, +disagreeable people, but as far as they could be pleased about anything +they were pleased to live in bells that were never rung, in houses where +there was nothing to do. They sat hunched up under the black domes of +their houses, dressed in darkness and cobwebs, and their only pleasure +was idleness, their only feasts the thick dusty silence that lies heavy +in all belfries where the bells never ring. They hardly ever spoke even +to each other, and in the whispers that good Bell-people talk in among +themselves, and that no one can hear but the bat whose ear for music is +very fine and who has himself a particularly high voice, and when they +did speak they quarrelled. + +And when at last the bells _were_ rung for the birth of a Princess the +wicked Bell-people were furious. Of course they had to _ring_--a bell +can't help that when the rope is pulled--but their voices were so ugly +that people were quite shocked. + +'What poor taste our ancestors must have had,' they said, 'to think +these were good bells!' + +(You remember the bells had not rung for nearly two hundred years.) + +'Dear me,' said the King to the Queen, 'what odd ideas people had in the +old days. I always understood that these bells had beautiful voices.' + +'They're quite hideous,' said the Queen. And so they were. Now that +night the lazy Bell-folk came down out of the belfry full of anger +against the Princess whose birth had disturbed their idleness. There is +no anger like that of a lazy person who is made to work against his +will. + +And they crept out of the dark domes of their houses and came down in +their dust dresses and cobweb cloaks, and crept up to the palace where +every one had gone to bed long before, and stood round the +mother-of-pearl cradle where the baby princess lay asleep. And they +reached their seven dark right hands out across the white satin +coverlet, and the oldest and hoarsest and laziest said: + +'She shall grow uglier every day, except Sundays, and every Sunday she +shall be seven times prettier than the Sunday before.' + +'Why not uglier every day, and a double dose on Sunday?' asked the +youngest and spitefullest of the wicked Bell-people. + +'Because there's no rule without an exception,' said the eldest and +hoarsest and laziest, 'and she'll feel it all the more if she's pretty +once a week. And,' he added, 'this shall go on till she finds a bell +that doesn't ring, and can't ring, and never will ring, and wasn't made +to ring.' + +'Why not for ever?' asked the young and spiteful. + +'Nothing goes on for ever,' said the eldest Bell-person, 'not even +ill-luck. And we have to leave her a way out. It doesn't matter. She'll +never know what it is. Let alone finding it.' + +Then they went back to the belfry and rearranged as well as they could +the comfortable web-and-owls' nest furniture of their houses which had +all been shaken up and disarranged by that absurd ringing of bells at +the birth of a Princess that nobody could really be pleased about. + +When the Princess was two weeks old the King said to the Queen: + +'My love--the Princess is not so handsome as I thought she was.' + +'Nonsense, Henry,' said the Queen, 'the light's not good, that's all.' + +Next day--it was Sunday--the King pulled back the lace curtains of the +cradle and said: + +'The light's good enough now--and you see she's----' + +He stopped. + +'It _must_ have been the light,' he said, 'she looks all right to-day.' + +'Of course she does, a precious,' said the Queen. + +But on Monday morning His Majesty was quite sure really that the +Princess was rather plain, for a Princess. And when Sunday came, and the +Princess had on her best robe and the cap with the little white ribbons +in the frill, he rubbed his nose and said there was no doubt dress did +make a great deal of difference. For the Princess was now as pretty as a +new daisy. + +The Princess was several years old before her mother could be got to see +that it really was better for the child to wear plain clothes and a veil +on week days. On Sundays, of course she could wear her best frock and a +clean crown just like anybody else. + +Of course nobody ever told the Princess how ugly she was. She wore a +veil on week-days, and so did every one else in the palace, and she was +never allowed to look in the glass except on Sundays, so that she had no +idea that she was not as pretty all the week as she was on the first day +of it. She grew up therefore quite contented. But the parents were in +despair. + +'Because,' said King Henry, 'it's high time she was married. We ought to +choose a king to rule the realm--I have always looked forward to her +marrying at twenty-one--and to our retiring on a modest competence to +some nice little place in the country where we could have a few pigs.' + +'And a cow,' said the Queen, wiping her eyes. + +'And a pony and trap,' said the King. + +'And hens,' said the Queen, 'yes. And now it can never, never be. Look +at the child! I just ask you! Look at her!' + +'_No_,' said the King firmly, 'I haven't done that since she was ten, +except on Sundays.' + +'Couldn't we get a prince to agree to a "Sundays only" marriage--not let +him see her during the week?' + +'Such an unusual arrangement,' said the King, 'would involve very +awkward explanations, and I can't think of any except the true ones, +which would be quite impossible to give. You see, we should want a +first-class prince, and no really high-toned Highness would take a wife +on those terms.' + +'It's a thoroughly comfortable kingdom,' said the Queen doubtfully. 'The +young man would be handsomely provided for for life.' + +'I couldn't marry Belinda to a time-server or a place-worshipper,' said +the King decidedly. + +Meanwhile the Princess had taken the matter into her own hands. She had +fallen in love. + +You know, of course, that a handsome book is sent out every year to all +the kings who have daughters to marry. It is rather like the illustrated +catalogues of Liberty's or Peter Robinson's, only instead of +illustrations showing furniture or ladies' cloaks and dresses, the +pictures are all of princes who are of an age to be married, and are +looking out for suitable wives. The book is called the 'Royal Match +Catalogue Illustrated,'--and besides the pictures of the princes it has +little printed bits about their incomes, accomplishments, prospects, and +tempers, and relations. + +Now the Princess saw this book--which is never shown to princesses, but +only to their parents--it was carelessly left lying on the round table +in the parlour. She looked all through it, and she hated each prince +more than the one before till she came to the very end, and on the last +page of all, screwed away in a corner, was the picture of a prince who +was quite as good-looking as a prince has any call to be. + +'I like _you_,' said Belinda softly. Then she read the little bit of +print underneath. + +_Prince Bellamant, aged twenty-four. Wants Princess who doesn't object +to a christening curse. Nature of curse only revealed in the strictest +confidence. Good tempered. Comfortably off. Quiet habits. No relations._ + +'Poor dear,' said the Princess. 'I wonder what the curse is! I'm sure +_I_ shouldn't mind!' + +The blue dusk of evening was deepening in the garden outside. The +Princess rang for the lamp and went to draw the curtain. There was a +rustle and a faint high squeak--and something black flopped on to the +floor and fluttered there. + +'Oh--it's a bat,' cried the Princess, as the lamp came in. 'I don't like +bats.' + +'Let me fetch a dust-pan and brush and sweep the nasty thing away,' said +the parlourmaid. + +'No, no,' said Belinda, 'it's hurt, poor dear,' and though she hated +bats she picked it up. It was horribly cold to touch, one wing dragged +loosely. 'You can go, Jane,' said the Princess to the parlourmaid. + +Then she got a big velvet-covered box that had had chocolate in it, and +put some cotton wool in it and said to the Bat-- + +'You poor dear, is that comfortable?' and the Bat said: + +'Quite, thanks.' + +'Good gracious,' said the Princess jumping. 'I didn't know bats could +talk.' + +'Every one can talk,' said the Bat, 'but not every one can hear other +people talking. You have a fine ear as well as a fine heart.' + +'Will your wing ever get well?' asked the Princess. + +'I hope so,' said the Bat. 'But let's talk about you. Do you know why you +wear a veil every day except Sundays?' + +'Doesn't everybody?' asked Belinda. + +'Only here in the palace,' said the Bat, 'that's on your account.' + +'But why?' asked the Princess. + +'Look in the glass and you'll know.' + +'But it's wicked to look in the glass except on Sundays--and besides +they're all put away,' said the Princess. + +'If I were you,' said the Bat, 'I should go up into the attic where the +youngest kitchenmaid sleeps. Feel between the thatch and the wall just +above her pillow, and you'll find a little round looking-glass. But come +back here before you look at it.' + +The Princess did exactly what the Bat told her to do, and when she had +come back into the parlour and shut the door she looked in the little +round glass that the youngest kitchen-maid's sweetheart had given her. +And when she saw her ugly, ugly, ugly face--for you must remember she +had been growing uglier every day since she was born--she screamed and +then she said: + +'That's not me, it's a horrid picture.' + +'It _is_ you, though,' said the Bat firmly but kindly; 'and now you see +why you wear a veil all the week--and only look in the glass on Sunday.' + +'But why,' asked the Princess in tears, 'why don't I look like that in +the Sunday looking-glasses?' + +'Because you aren't like that on Sundays,' the Bat replied. 'Come,' it +went on, 'stop crying. I didn't tell you the dread secret of your +ugliness just to make you cry--but because I know the way for you to be +as pretty all the week as you are on Sundays, and since you've been so +kind to me I'll tell you. Sit down close beside me, it fatigues me to +speak loud.' + +The Princess did, and listened through her veil and her tears, while the +Bat told her all that I began this story by telling you. + +'My great-great-great-great-grandfather heard the tale years ago,' he +said, 'up in the dark, dusty, beautiful, comfortable, cobwebby belfry, +and I have heard scraps of it myself when the evil Bell-people were +quarrelling, or talking in their sleep, lazy things!' + +'It's very good of you to tell me all this,' said Belinda, 'but what am +I to do?' + +'You must find the bell that doesn't ring, and can't ring, and never +will ring, and wasn't made to ring.' + +'If I were a prince,' said the Princess, 'I could go out and seek my +fortune.' + +'Princesses have fortunes as well as princes,' said the Bat. + +'But father and mother would never let me go and look for mine.' + +'Think!' said the Bat, 'perhaps you'll find a way.' + +So Belinda thought and thought. And at last she got the book that had +the portraits of eligible princes in it, and she wrote to the prince who +had the christening curse--and this is what she said: + + 'Princess Belinda of Carrillon-land is not afraid of christening + curses. If Prince Bellamant would like to marry her he had better + apply to her Royal Father in the usual way. + + '_P.S._--I have seen your portrait.' + +When the Prince got this letter he was very pleased, and wrote at once +for Princess Belinda's likeness. Of course they sent him a picture of +her Sunday face, which was the most beautiful face in the world. As soon +as he saw it he knew that this was not only the most beautiful face in +the world, but the dearest, so he wrote to her father by the next +post--applying for her hand in the usual way and enclosing the most +respectable references. The King told the Princess. + +'Come,' said he, 'what do you say to this young man?' + +And the Princess, of course, said, 'Yes, please.' + +So the wedding-day was fixed for the first Sunday in June. + +But when the Prince arrived with all his glorious following of courtiers +and men-at-arms, with two pink peacocks and a crown-case full of +diamonds for his bride, he absolutely refused to be married on a Sunday. +Nor would he give any reason for his refusal. And then the King lost his +temper and broke off the match, and the Prince went away. + +But he did not go very far. That night he bribed a page-boy to show him +which was the Princess's room, and he climbed up by the jasmine through +the dark rose-scented night, and tapped at the window. + +'Who's dhere?' said the Princess inside in the dark. + +'Me,' said the Prince in the dark outside. + +'Thed id wasnd't true?' said the Princess. 'They toad be you'd ridded +away.' + +'What a cold you've got, my Princess,' said the Prince hanging on by the +jasmine boughs. + +'It's not a cold,' sniffed the Princess. + +'Then ... oh you dear ... were you crying because you thought I'd gone?' +he said. + +'I suppose so,' said she. + +He said, 'You dear!' again, and kissed her hands. + +'_Why_ wouldn't you be married on a Sunday?' she asked. + +'It's the curse, dearest,' he explained, 'I couldn't tell any one but +you. The fact is Malevola wasn't asked to my christening so she doomed +me to be ... well, she said "moderately good-looking all the week, and +too ugly for words on Sundays." So you see! You _will_ be married on a +week-day, won't you?' + +'But I can't,' said the Princess, 'because I've got a curse too--only +I'm ugly all the week and pretty on Sundays.' + +'How extremely tiresome,' said the Prince, 'but can't you be cured?' + +'Oh yes,' said the Princess, and told him how. 'And you,' she asked, 'is +yours quite incurable?' + +'Not at all,' he answered, 'I've only got to stay under water for five +minutes and the spell will be broken. But you see, beloved, the +difficulty is that I can't do it. I've practised regularly, from a boy, +in the sea, and in the swimming bath, and even in my wash-hand +basin--hours at a time I've practised--but I never can keep under more +than two minutes.' + +'Oh dear,' said the Princess, 'this is dreadful.' + +'It is rather trying,' the Prince answered. + +'You're sure you like me,' she asked suddenly, 'now you know that I'm +only pretty once a week?' + +'I'd die for you,' said he. + +'Then I'll tell you what. Send all your courtiers away, and take a +situation as under-gardener here--I know we want one. And then every +night I'll climb down the jasmine and we'll go out together and seek our +fortune. I'm sure we shall find it.' + +And they did go out. The very next night, and the next, and the next, +and the next, and the next, and the next. And they did not find their +fortunes, but they got fonder and fonder of each other. They could not +see each other's faces, but they held hands as they went along through +the dark. + +And on the seventh night, as they passed by a house that showed chinks +of light through its shutters, they heard a bell being rung outside for +supper, a bell with a very loud and beautiful voice. But instead of +saying-- + +'Supper's ready,' as any one would have expected, the bell was saying-- + + Ding dong dell! + _I_ could tell + Where you ought to go + To break the spell. + +Then some one left off ringing the bell, so of course it couldn't say +any more. So the two went on. A little way down the road a cow-bell +tinkled behind the wet hedge of the lane. And it said--not, 'Here I am, +quite safe,' as a cow-bell should, but-- + + Ding dong dell + All will be well + If you... + +Then the cow stopped walking and began to eat, so the bell couldn't say +any more. The Prince and Princess went on, and you will not be surprised +to hear that they heard the voices of five more bells that night. The +next was a school-bell. The schoolmaster's little boy thought it would +be fun to ring it very late at night--but his father came and caught him +before the bell could say any more than-- + + Ding a dong dell + You can break up the spell + By taking... + +So that was no good. + +Then there were the three bells that were the sign over the door of an +inn where people were happily dancing to a fiddle, because there was a +wedding. These bells said: + + We are the + Merry three + Bells, bells, bells. + You are two + To undo + Spells, spells, spells... + +Then the wind who was swinging the bells suddenly thought of an +appointment he had made with a pine forest, to get up an entertaining +imitation of sea-waves for the benefit of the forest nymphs who had +never been to the seaside, and he went off--so, of course, the bells +couldn't ring any more, and the Prince and Princess went on down the +dark road. + +There was a cottage and the Princess pulled her veil closely over her +face, for yellow light streamed from its open door--and it was a +Wednesday. + +Inside a little boy was sitting on the floor--quite a little boy--he +ought to have been in bed long before, and I don't know why he wasn't. +And he was ringing a little tinkling bell that had dropped off a sleigh. + +And this little bell said: + + Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, I'm a little sleigh-bell, + But I know what I know, and I'll tell, tell, tell. + Find the Enchanter of the Ringing Well, + He will show you how to break the spell, spell, spell. + Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, I'm a little sleigh-bell, + But I know what I know.... + +And so on, over and over, again and again, because the little boy was +quite contented to go on shaking his sleigh-bell for ever and ever. + +'So now we know,' said the Prince, 'isn't that glorious?' + +'Yes, very, but where's the Enchanter of the Ringing Well?' said the +Princess doubtfully. + +'Oh, I've got _his_ address in my pocket-book,' said the Prince. 'He's +my god-father. He was one of the references I gave your father.' + +So the next night the Prince brought a horse to the garden, and he and +the Princess mounted, and rode, and rode, and rode, and in the grey dawn +they came to Wonderwood, and in the very middle of that the Magician's +Palace stands. + +The Princess did not like to call on a perfect stranger so very early in +the morning, so they decided to wait a little and look about them. + +The castle was very beautiful, decorated with a conventional design of +bells and bell ropes, carved in white stone. + +Luxuriant plants of American bell-vine covered the drawbridge and +portcullis. On a green lawn in front of the castle was a well, with a +curious bell-shaped covering suspended over it. The lovers leaned over +the mossy fern-grown wall of the well, and, looking down, they could see +that the narrowness of the well only lasted for a few feet, and below +that it spread into a cavern where water lay in a big pool. + +'What cheer?' said a pleasant voice behind them. It was the Enchanter, +an early riser, like Darwin was, and all other great scientific men. + +They told him what cheer. + +'But,' Prince Bellamant ended, 'it's really no use. I can't keep under +water more than two minutes however much I try. And my precious +Belinda's not likely to find any silly old bell that doesn't ring, and +can't ring, and never will ring, and was never made to ring.' + +'Ho, ho,' laughed the Enchanter with the soft full laughter of old age. +'You've come to the right shop. Who told you?' + +'The bells,' said Belinda. + +'Ah, yes.' The old man frowned kindly upon them. 'You must be very fond +of each other?' + +'We are,' said the two together. + +'Yes,' the Enchanter answered, 'because only true lovers can hear the +true speech of the bells, and then only when they're together. Well, +there's the bell!' + +He pointed to the covering of the well, went forward, and touched some +lever or spring. The covering swung out from above the well, and hung +over the grass grey with the dew of dawn. + +'_That?_' said Bellamant. + +'That,' said his god-father. 'It doesn't ring, and it can't ring, and it +never will ring, and it was never made to ring. Get into it.' + +'Eh?' said Bellamant forgetting his manners. + +The old man took a hand of each and led them under the bell. + +They looked up. It had windows of thick glass, and high seats about +four feet from its edge, running all round inside. + +'Take your seats,' said the Enchanter. + +Bellamant lifted his Princess to the bench and leaped up beside her. + +'Now,' said the old man, 'sit still, hold each other's hands, and for +your lives don't move.' + +He went away, and next moment they felt the bell swing in the air. It +swung round till once more it was over the well, and then it went down, +down, down. + +'I'm not afraid, with you,' said Belinda, because she was, dreadfully. + +Down went the bell. The glass windows leaped into light, looking through +them the two could see blurred glories of lamps in the side of the cave, +magic lamps, or perhaps merely electric, which, curiously enough have +ceased to seem magic to us nowadays. Then with a plop the lower edge of +the bell met the water, the water rose inside it, a little, then not any +more. And the bell went down, down, and above their heads the green +water lapped against the windows of the bell. + +'You're under water--if we stay five minutes,' Belinda whispered. + +'Yes, dear,' said Bellamant, and pulled out his ruby-studded +chronometer. + +'It's five minutes for you, but oh!' cried Belinda, 'it's _now_ for me. +For I've found the bell that doesn't ring, and can't ring, and never +will ring, and wasn't made to ring. Oh Bellamant dearest, it's Thursday. +_Have_ I got my Sunday face?' + +She tore away her veil, and his eyes, fixed upon her face, could not +leave it. + +'Oh dream of all the world's delight,' he murmured, 'how beautiful you +are.' + +Neither spoke again till a sudden little shock told them that the bell +was moving up again. + +'Nonsense,' said Bellamant, 'it's not five minutes.' + +But when they looked at the ruby-studded chronometer, it was nearly +three-quarters of an hour. But then, of course, the well was enchanted! + +'Magic? Nonsense,' said the old man when they hung about him with thanks +and pretty words. 'It's only a diving-bell. My own invention.' + + * * * * * + +So they went home and were married, and the Princess did not wear a veil +at the wedding. She said she had had enough veils to last her time. + + * * * * * + +And a year and a day after that a little daughter was born to them. + +'Now sweetheart,' said King Bellamant--he was king now because the old +king and queen had retired from the business, and were keeping pigs and +hens in the country as they had always planned to do--'dear sweetheart +and life's love, I am going to ring the bells with my own hands, to show +how glad I am for you, and for the child, and for our good life +together.' + +So he went out. It was very dark, because the baby princess had chosen +to be born at midnight. + +The King went out to the belfry, that stood in the great, bare, quiet, +moonlit square, and he opened the door. The furry-pussy bell-ropes, like +huge caterpillars, hung on the first loft. The King began to climb the +curly-wurly stone stair. And as he went up he heard a noise, the +strangest noises, stamping and rustling and deep breathings. + +He stood still in the ringers' loft where the pussy-furry caterpillary +bell-robes hung, and from the belfry above he heard the noise of strong +fighting, and mixed with it the sound of voices angry and desperate, but +with a noble note that thrilled the soul of the hearer like the sound of +the trumpet in battle. And the voices cried: + + Down, down--away, away, + When good has come ill may not stay, + Out, out, into the night, + The belfry bells are ours by right! + +And the words broke and joined again, like water when it flows against +the piers of a bridge. 'Down, down----.' 'Ill may not stay----.' 'Good +has come----.' 'Away, away----.' And the joining came like the sound of +the river that flows free again. + + Out, out, into the night, + The belfry bells are ours by right! + +And then, as King Bellamant stood there, thrilled and yet, as it were, +turned to stone, by the magic of this conflict that raged above him, +there came a sweeping rush down the belfry ladder. The lantern he +carried showed him a rout of little, dark, evil people, clothed in dust +and cobwebs, that scurried down the wooden steps gnashing their teeth +and growling in the bitterness of a deserved defeat. They passed and +there was silence. Then the King flew from rope to rope pulling lustily, +and from above, the bells answered in their own clear beautiful +voices--because the good Bell-folk had driven out the usurpers and had +come to their own again. + + Ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring! Ring, bell! + A little baby comes on earth to dwell. Ring, bell! + Sound, bell! Sound! Swell! + Ring for joy and wish her well! + May her life tell + No tale of ill-spell! + Ring, bell! Joy, bell! Love, bell! Ring! + + * * * * * + +'But I don't see,' said King Bellamant, when he had told Queen Belinda +all about it, 'how it was that I came to hear them. The Enchanter of the +Ringing Well said that only lovers could hear what the bells had to say, +and then only when they were together.' + +'You silly dear boy,' said Queen Belinda, cuddling the baby princess +close under her chin, 'we _are_ lovers, aren't we? And you don't suppose +I wasn't with you when you went to ring the bells for our baby--my heart +and soul anyway--all of me that matters!' + +'Yes,' said the King, 'of course you were. That accounts!' + + + + +VIII + +JUSTNOWLAND + + +'Auntie! No, no, no! I will be good. Oh, I will!' The little weak voice +came from the other side of the locked attic door. + +'You should have thought of that before,' said the strong, sharp voice +outside. + +'I didn't mean to be naughty. I didn't, truly.' + +'It's not what you mean, miss, it's what you do. I'll teach you not to +mean, my lady.' + +The bitter irony of the last words dried the child's tears. 'Very well, +then,' she screamed, 'I won't be good; I won't try to be good. I thought +you'd like your nasty old garden weeded. I only did it to please you. +How was I to know it was turnips? It looked just like weeds.' Then came +a pause, then another shriek. 'Oh, Auntie, don't! Oh, let me out--let me +out!' + +'I'll not let you out till I've broken your spirit, my girl; you may +rely on that.' + +The sharp voice stopped abruptly on a high note; determined feet in +strong boots sounded on the stairs--fainter, fainter; a door slammed +below with a dreadful definiteness, and Elsie was left alone, to wonder +how soon her spirit would break--for at no less a price, it appeared, +could freedom be bought. + +The outlook seemed hopeless. The martyrs and heroines, with whom Elsie +usually identified herself, _their_ spirit had never been broken; not +chains nor the rack nor the fiery stake itself had even weakened them. +Imprisonment in an attic would to them have been luxury compared with +the boiling oil and the smoking faggots and all the intimate cruelties +of mysterious instruments of steel and leather, in cold dungeons, lit +only by the dull flare of torches and the bright, watchful eyes of +inquisitors. + +A month in the house of 'Auntie' self-styled, and really only an +unrelated Mrs. Staines, paid to take care of the child, had held but one +interest--Foxe's Book of Martyrs. It was a horrible book--the thick +oleographs, their guarding sheets of tissue paper sticking to the prints +like bandages to a wound.... Elsie knew all about wounds: she had had +one herself. Only a scalded hand, it is true, but a wound is a wound, +all the world over. It was a book that made you afraid to go to bed; but +it was a book you could not help reading. And now it seemed as though it +might at last help, and not merely sicken and terrify. But the help was +frail, and broke almost instantly on the thought--'_They_ were brave +because they were good: how can I be brave when there's nothing to be +brave about except me not knowing the difference between turnips and +weeds?' + +She sank down, a huddled black bunch on the bare attic floor, and called +wildly to some one who could not answer her. Her frock was black because +the one who always used to answer could not answer any more. And her +father was in India, where you cannot answer, or even hear, your little +girl, however much she cries in England. + +'I won't cry,' said Elsie, sobbing as violently as ever. 'I can be +brave, even if I'm not a saint but only a turnip-mistaker. I'll be a +Bastille prisoner, and tame a mouse!' She dried her eyes, though the +bosom of the black frock still heaved like the sea after a storm, and +looked about for a mouse to tame. One could not begin too soon. But +unfortunately there seemed to be no mouse at liberty just then. There +were mouse-holes right enough, all round the wainscot, and in the broad, +time-worn boards of the old floor. But never a mouse. + +'Mouse, mouse!' Elsie called softly. 'Mousie, mousie, come and be +tamed!' + +Not a mouse replied. + +The attic was perfectly empty and dreadfully clean. The other attic, +Elsie knew, had lots of interesting things in it--old furniture and +saddles, and sacks of seed potatoes,--but in this attic nothing. Not so +much as a bit of string on the floor that one could make knots in, or +twist round one's finger till it made the red ridges that are so +interesting to look at afterwards; not even a piece of paper in the +draughty, cold fireplace that one could make paper boats of, or prick +letters in with a pin or the tag of one's shoe-laces. + +As she stooped to see whether under the grate some old match-box or bit +of twig might have escaped the broom, she saw suddenly what she had +wanted most--a mouse. It was lying on its side. She put out her hand +very slowly and gently, and whispered in her softest tones, 'Wake up, +Mousie, wake up, and come and be tamed.' But the mouse never moved. And +when she took it in her hand it was cold. + +'Oh,' she moaned, 'you're dead, and now I can never tame you'; and she +sat on the cold hearth and cried again, with the dead mouse in her lap. + +'Don't cry,' said somebody. 'I'll find you something to tame--if you +really want it.' + +Elsie started and saw the head of a black bird peering at her through +the square opening that leads to the chimney. The edges of him looked +ragged and rainbow-coloured, but that was because she saw him through +tears. To a tearless eye he was black and very smooth and sleek. + +'Oh!' she said, and nothing more. + +'Quite so,' said the bird politely. 'You are surprised to hear me speak, +but your surprise will be, of course, much less when I tell you that I +am really a Prime Minister condemned by an Enchanter to wear the form of +a crow till ... till I can get rid of it.' + +'Oh!' said Elsie. + +'Yes, indeed,' said the Crow, and suddenly grew smaller till he could +come comfortably through the square opening. He did this, perched on the +top bar, and hopped to the floor. And there he got bigger and bigger, +and bigger and bigger and bigger. Elsie had scrambled to her feet, and +then a black little girl of eight and of the usual size stood face to +face with a crow as big as a man, and no doubt as old. She found words +then. + +'Oh, don't!' she cried. 'Don't get any bigger. I can't bear it.' + +'_I_ can't _do_ it,' said the Crow kindly, 'so that's all right. I +thought you'd better get used to seeing rather large crows before I take +you to Crownowland. We are all life-size there.' + +'But a crow's life-size isn't a man's life-size,' Elsie managed to say. + +'Oh yes, it is--when it's an enchanted Crow,' the bird replied. 'That +makes all the difference. Now you were saying you wanted to tame +something. If you'll come with me to Crownowland I'll show you something +worth taming.' + +'Is Crow-what's-its-name a nice place?' Elsie asked cautiously. She was, +somehow, not so very frightened now. + +'Very,' said the Crow. + +'Then perhaps I shall like it so much I sha'n't want to be taming +things.' + +'Oh yes, you will, when you know how much depends on it.' + +'But I shouldn't like,' said Elsie, 'to go up the chimney. This isn't my +best frock, of course, but still....' + +'Quite so,' said the Crow. 'I only came that way for fun, and because I +can fly. You shall go in by the chief gate of the kingdom, like a lady. +Do come.' + +But Elsie still hesitated. 'What sort of thing is it you want me to +tame?' she said doubtfully. + +The enormous crow hesitated. 'A--a sort of lizard,' it said at last. +'And if you can only tame it so that it will do what you tell it to, +you'll save the whole kingdom, and we'll put up a statue to you; but not +in the People's Park, unless they wish it,' the bird added mysteriously. + +'I should like to save a kingdom,' said Elsie, 'and I like lizards. I've +seen lots of them in India.' + +'Then you'll come?' said the Crow. + +'Yes. But how do we go?' + +'There are only two doors out of this world into another,' said the +Crow. 'I'll take you through the nearest. Allow me!' It put its wing +round her so that her face nestled against the black softness of the +under-wing feathers. It was warm and dark and sleepy there, and very +comfortable. For a moment she seemed to swim easily in a soft sea of +dreams. Then, with a little shock, she found herself standing on a +marble terrace, looking out over a city far more beautiful and +wonderful than she had ever seen or imagined. The great man-sized Crow +was by her side. + +'Now,' it said, pointing with the longest of its long black +wing-feathers, 'you see this beautiful city?' + +'Yes,' said Elsie, 'of course I do.' + +'Well ... I hardly like to tell you the story,' said the Crow, 'but it's +a long time ago, and I hope you won't think the worse of us--because +we're really very sorry.' + +'If you're really sorry,' said Elsie primly, 'of course it's all right.' + +'Unfortunately it isn't,' said the Crow. 'You see the great square down +there?' + +Elsie looked down on a square of green trees, broken a little towards +the middle. + +'Well, that's where the ... where _it_ is--what you've got to tame, you +know.' + +'But what did you do that was wrong?' + +'We were unkind,' said the Crow slowly, 'and unjust, and ungenerous. We +had servants and workpeople doing everything for us; we had nothing to +do _but_ be kind. And we weren't.' + +'Dear me,' said Elsie feebly. + +'We had several warnings,' said the Crow. 'There was an old parchment, +and it said just how you ought to behave and all that. But we didn't +care what it said. I was Court Magician as well as Prime Minister, and I +ought to have known better, but I didn't. We all wore frock-coats and +high hats then,' he added sadly. + +'Go on,' said Elsie, her eyes wandering from one beautiful building to +another of the many that nestled among the trees of the city. + +'And the old parchment said that if we didn't behave well our bodies +would grow like our souls. But we didn't think so. And then all in a +minute they _did_--and we were crows, and our bodies were as black as +our souls. Our souls are quite white now,' it added reassuringly. + +'But what was _the_ dreadful thing you'd done?' + +'We'd been unkind to the people who worked for us--not given them enough +food or clothes or fire, and at last we took away even their play. There +was a big park that the people played in, and we built a wall round it +and took it for ourselves, and the King was going to set a statue of +himself up in the middle. And then before we could begin to enjoy it we +were turned into big black crows; and the working people into big white +pigeons--and _they_ can go where they like, but we have to stay here +till we've tamed the.... We never can go into the park, until we've +settled the thing that guards it. And that thing's a big big lizard--in +fact ... it's a _dragon_!' + +'_Oh!_' cried Elsie; but she was not as frightened as the Crow seemed to +expect. Because every now and then she had felt sure that she was really +safe in her own bed, and that this was a dream. It was not a dream, but +the belief that it was made her very brave, and she felt quite sure that +she could settle a dragon, if necessary--a dream dragon, that is. And +the rest of the time she thought about Foxe's Book of Martyrs and what a +heroine she now had the chance to be. + +'You want me to kill it?' she asked. + +'Oh no! To tame it,' said the Crow. + +'We've tried all sorts of means--long whips, like people tame horses +with, and red-hot bars, such as lion-tamers use--and it's all been +perfectly useless; and there the dragon lives, and will live till some +one can tame him and get him to follow them like a tame fawn, and eat +out of their hand.' + +'What does the dragon _like_ to eat?' Elsie asked. + +'_Crows_,' replied the other in an uncomfortable whisper. 'At least +_I've_ never known it eat anything else!' + +'Am I to try to tame it _now_?' Elsie asked. + +'Oh dear no,' said the Crow. 'We'll have a banquet in your honour, and +you shall have tea with the Princess.' + +'How do you know who is a princess and who's not, if you're all crows?' +Elsie cried. + +'How do you know one human being from another?' the Crow replied. +'Besides ... Come on to the Palace.' + +It led her along the terrace, and down some marble steps to a small +arched door. 'The tradesmen's entrance,' it explained. 'Excuse it--the +courtiers are crowding in by the front door.' Then through long +corridors and passages they went, and at last into the throne-room. Many +crows stood about in respectful attitudes. On the golden throne, leaning +a gloomy head upon the first joint of his right wing, the Sovereign of +Crownowland was musing dejectedly. A little girl of about Elsie's age +sat on the steps of the throne nursing a handsome doll. + +'Who is the little girl?' Elsie asked. + +'_Curtsey!_ That's the Princess,' the Prime Minister Crow whispered; and +Elsie made the best curtsey she could think of in such a hurry. 'She +wasn't wicked enough to be turned into a crow, or poor enough to be +turned into a pigeon, so she remains a dear little girl, just as she +always was.' + +The Princess dropped her doll and ran down the steps of the throne to +meet Elsie. + +'You dear!' she said. 'You've come to play with me, haven't you? All +the little girls I used to play with have turned into crows, and their +beaks are _so_ awkward at doll's tea-parties, and wings are no good to +nurse dollies with. Let's have a doll's tea-party _now_, shall we?' + +'May we?' Elsie looked at the Crow King, who nodded his head hopelessly. +So, hand in hand, they went. + +I wonder whether you have ever had the run of a perfectly beautiful +palace and a nursery absolutely crammed with all the toys you ever had +or wanted to have: dolls' houses, dolls' china tea-sets, rocking-horses, +bricks, nine-pins, paint-boxes, conjuring tricks, pewter +dinner-services, and any number of dolls--all most agreeable and +distinguished. If you have, you may perhaps be able faintly to imagine +Elsie's happiness. And better than all the toys was the Princess +Perdona--so gentle and kind and jolly, full of ideas for games, and +surrounded by the means for playing them. Think of it, after that bare +attic, with not even a bit of string to play with, and no company but +the poor little dead mouse! + +There is no room in this story to tell you of all the games they had. I +can only say that the time went by so quickly that they never noticed it +going, and were amazed when the Crown nursemaid brought in the royal +tea-tray. Tea was a beautiful meal--with pink iced cake in it. + +Now, all the time that these glorious games had been going on, and this +magnificent tea, the wisest crows of Crownowland had been holding a +council. They had decided that there was no time like the present, and +that Elsie had better try to tame the dragon soon as late. 'But,' the +King said, 'she mustn't run any risks. A guard of fifty stalwart crows +must go with her, and if the dragon shows the least temper, fifty crows +must throw themselves between her and danger, even if it cost fifty-one +crow-lives. For I myself will lead that band. Who will volunteer?' + +Volunteers, to the number of some thousands, instantly stepped forward, +and the Field Marshal selected fifty of the strongest crows. + +And then, in the pleasant pinkness of the sunset, Elsie was led out on +to the palace steps, where the King made a speech and said what a +heroine she was, and how like Joan of Arc. And the crows who had +gathered from all parts of the town cheered madly. Did you ever hear +crows cheering? It is a wonderful sound. + +Then Elsie got into a magnificent gilt coach, drawn by eight white +horses, with a crow at the head of each horse. The Princess sat with her +on the blue velvet cushions and held her hand. + +'I _know_ you'll do it,' said she; 'you're so brave and clever, Elsie!' + +And Elsie felt braver than before, although now it did not seem so like +a dream. But she thought of the martyrs, and held Perdona's hand very +tight. + +At the gates of the green park the Princess kissed and hugged her new +friend--her state crown, which she had put on in honour of the occasion, +got pushed quite on one side in the warmth of her embrace--and Elsie +stepped out of the carriage. There was a great crowd of crows round the +park gates, and every one cheered and shouted 'Speech, speech!' + +Elsie got as far as 'Ladies and gentlemen--Crows, I mean,' and then she +could not think of anything more, so she simply added, 'Please, I'm +ready.' + +I wish you could have heard those crows cheer. + +But Elsie wouldn't have the escort. + +'It's very kind,' she said, 'but the dragon only eats crows, and I'm not +a crow, thank goodness--I mean I'm not a crow--and if I've got to be +brave I'd like to _be_ brave, and none of you to get eaten. If only some +one will come with me to show me the way and then run back as hard as he +can when we get near the dragon. _Please!_' + +'If only one goes _I_ shall be the one,' said the King. And he and Elsie +went through the great gates side by side. She held the end of his wing, +which was the nearest they could get to hand in hand. + +The crowd outside waited in breathless silence. Elsie and the King went +on through the winding paths of the People's Park. And by the winding +paths they came at last to the Dragon. He lay very peacefully on a great +stone slab, his enormous bat-like wings spread out on the grass and his +goldy-green scales glittering in the pretty pink sunset light. + +'Go back!' said Elsie. + +'No,' said the King. + +'If you don't,' said Elsie, '_I_ won't go _on_. Seeing a crow might +rouse him to fury, or give him an appetite, or something. Do--do go!' + +So he went, but not far. He hid behind a tree, and from its shelter he +watched. + +Elsie drew a long breath. Her heart was thumping under the black frock. +'Suppose,' she thought, 'he takes me for a crow!' But she thought how +yellow her hair was, and decided that the dragon would be certain to +notice that. + +'Quick march!' she said to herself, 'remember Joan of Arc,' and walked +right up to the dragon. It never moved, but watched her suspiciously out +of its bright green eyes. + +'Dragon dear!' she said in her clear little voice. + +'_Eh?_' said the dragon, in tones of extreme astonishment. + +'Dragon dear,' she repeated, 'do you like sugar?' + +'_Yes_,' said the dragon. + +'Well, I've brought you some. You won't hurt me if I bring it to you?' + +The dragon violently shook its vast head. + +'It's not much,' said Elsie, 'but I saved it at tea-time. Four lumps. +Two for each of my mugs of milk.' + +She laid the sugar on the stone slab by the dragon's paw. + +It turned its head towards the sugar. The pinky sunset light fell on its +face, and Elsie saw that it was weeping! Great fat tears as big as prize +pears were coursing down its wrinkled cheeks. + +'Oh, don't,' said Elsie, '_don't_ cry! Poor dragon, what's the matter?' + +'Oh!' sobbed the dragon, 'I'm only so glad you've come. I--I've been so +lonely. No one to love me. You _do_ love me, don't you?' + +'I--I'm sure I shall when I know you better,' said Elsie kindly. + +'Give me a kiss, dear,' said the dragon, sniffing. + +It is no joke to kiss a dragon. But Elsie did it--somewhere on the hard +green wrinkles of its forehead. + +'Oh, _thank_ you,' said the dragon, brushing away its tears with the tip +of its tail. 'That breaks the charm. I can move now. And I've got back +all my lost wisdom. Come along--I _do_ want my tea!' + +So, to the waiting crowd at the gate came Elsie and the dragon side by +side. And at sight of the dragon, tamed, a great shout went up from the +crowd; and at that shout each one in the crowd turned quickly to the +next one--for it was the shout of men, and not of crows. Because at the +first sight of the dragon, tamed, they had left off being crows for ever +and ever, and once again were men. + +The King came running through the gates, his royal robes held high, so +that he shouldn't trip over them, and he too was no longer a crow, but a +man. + +And what did Elsie feel after being so brave? Well, she felt that she +would like to cry, and also to laugh, and she felt that she loved not +only the dragon, but every man, woman, and child in the whole +world--even Mrs. Staines. + +She rode back to the Palace on the dragon's back. + +And as they went the crowd of citizens who had been crows met the crowd +of citizens who had been pigeons, and these were poor men in poor +clothes. + +It would have done you good to see how the ones who had been rich and +crows ran to meet the ones who had been pigeons and poor. + +'Come and stay at my house, brother,' they cried to those who had no +homes. 'Brother, I have many coats, come and choose some,' they cried to +the ragged. 'Come and feast with me!' they cried to all. And the rich +and the poor went off arm in arm to feast and be glad that night, and +the next day to work side by side. 'For,' said the King, speaking with +his hand on the neck of the tamed dragon, 'our land has been called +Crownowland. But we are no longer crows. We are men: and we will be Just +men. And our country shall be called Justnowland for ever and ever. And +for the future we shall not be rich and poor, but fellow-workers, and +each will do his best for his brothers and his own city. And your King +shall be your servant!' + +I don't know how they managed this, but no one seemed to think that +there would be any difficulty about it when the King mentioned it; and +when people really make up their minds to do anything, difficulties do +most oddly disappear. + +Wonderful rejoicings there were. The city was hung with flags and lamps. +Bands played--the performers a little out of practice, because, of +course, crows can't play the flute or the violin or the trombone--but +the effect was very gay indeed. Then came the time--it was quite +dark--when the King rose up on his throne and spoke; and Elsie, among +all her new friends, listened with them to his words. + +'Our deliverer Elsie,' he said, 'was brought hither by the good magic of +our Chief Mage and Prime Minister. She has removed the enchantment that +held us; and the dragon, now that he has had his tea and recovered from +the shock of being kindly treated, turns out to be the second strongest +magician in the world,--and he will help us and advise us, so long as we +remember that we are all brothers and fellow-workers. And now comes the +time when our Elsie must return to her own place, or another go in her +stead. But we cannot send back our heroine, our deliverer.' (_Long, loud +cheering._) 'So one shall take her place. My daughter----' + +The end of the sentence was lost in shouts of admiration. But Elsie +stood up, small and white in her black frock, and said, 'No thank you. +Perdona would simply hate it. And she doesn't know my daddy. He'll fetch +me away from Mrs. Staines some day....' + +The thought of her daddy, far away in India, of the loneliness of Willow +Farm, where now it would be night in that horrible bare attic where the +poor dead untameable little mouse was, nearly choked Elsie. It was so +bright and light and good and kind here. And India was so far away. Her +voice stayed a moment on a broken note. + +'I--I....' Then she spoke firmly. + +'Thank you all so much,' she said--'so very much. I do love you all, and +it's lovely here. But, please, I'd like to go home now.' + +The Prime Minister, in a silence full of love and understanding, folded +his dark cloak round her. + + * * * * * + +It was dark in the attic. Elsie crouching alone in the blackness by the +fireplace where the dead mouse had been, put out her hand to touch its +cold fur. + + * * * * * + +There were wheels on the gravel outside--the knocker swung +strongly--'_Rat_-tat-tat-tat--_Tat_! _Tat_!' A pause--voices--hasty feet +in strong boots sounded on the stairs, the key turned in the lock. The +door opened a dazzling crack, then fully, to the glare of a lamp +carried by Mrs. Staines. + +'Come down at once. I'm sure you're good now,' she said, in a great +hurry and in a new honeyed voice. + +But there were other feet on the stairs--a step that Elsie knew. +'Where's my girl?' the voice she knew cried cheerfully. But under the +cheerfulness Elsie heard something other and dearer. 'Where's my girl?' + +After all, it takes less than a month to come from India to the house in +England where one's heart is. + +Out of the bare attic and the darkness Elsie leapt into light, into arms +she knew. 'Oh, my daddy, my daddy!' she cried. 'How glad I am I came +back!' + + + + +IX + +THE RELATED MUFF + + +We had never seen our cousin Sidney till that Christmas Eve, and we +didn't want to see him then, and we didn't like him when we did see +him. He was just dumped down into the middle of us by mother, at a time +when it would have been unkind to her to say how little we wanted him. + +We knew already that there wasn't to be any proper Christmas for us, +because Aunt Ellie--the one who always used to send the necklaces and +carved things from India, and remembered everybody's birthday--had come +home ill. Very ill she was, at a hotel in London, and mother had to go +to her, and, of course, father was away with his ship. + +And then after we had said good-bye to mother, and told her how sorry we +were, we were left to ourselves, and told each other what a shame it +was, and no presents or anything. And then mother came suddenly back in +a cab, and we all shouted 'Hooray' when we saw the cab stop, and her get +out of it. And then we saw she was getting something out of the cab, and +our hearts leapt up like the man's in the piece of school poetry when he +beheld a rainbow in the sky--because we thought she had remembered about +the presents, and the thing she was getting out of the cab was _them_. + +Of course it was not--it was Sidney, very thin and yellow, and looking +as sullen as a pig. + +We opened the front door. Mother didn't even come in. She just said, +'Here's your Cousin Sidney. Be nice to him and give him a good time, +there's darlings. And don't forget he's your visitor, so be very extra +nice to him.' + +I have sometimes thought it was the fault of what mother said about the +visitor that made what did happen happen, but I am almost sure really +that it was the fault of us, though I did not see it at the time, and +even now I'm sure we didn't mean to be unkind. Quite the opposite. But +the events of life are very confusing, especially when you try to think +what made you do them, and whether you really meant to be naughty or +not. Quite often it is not--but it turns out just the same. + +When the cab had carried mother away--Hilda said it was like a dragon +carrying away a queen--we said, 'How do you do' to our Cousin Sidney, +who replied, 'Quite well, thank you.' + +And then, curiously enough, no one could think of anything more to say. + +Then Rupert--which is me--remembered that about being a visitor, and he +said: + +'Won't you come into the drawing-room?' + +He did when he had taken off his gloves and overcoat. There was a fire +in the drawing-room, because we had been going to have games there with +mother, only the telegram came about Aunt Ellie. + +So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing to +say harder than ever. + +Hilda did say, 'How old are you?' but, of course, we knew the answer to +that. It was ten. + +And Hugh said, 'Do you like England or India best?' + +And our cousin replied, 'India ever so much, thank you.' + +I never felt such a duffer. It was awful. With all the millions of +interesting things that there are to say at other times, and I couldn't +think of one. At last I said, 'Do you like games?' + +[Illustration: So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought +of nothing to say harder than ever.] + +And our cousin replied, 'Some games I do,' in a tone that made me sure +that the games he liked wouldn't be our kind, but some wild Indian sort +that we didn't know. + +I could see that the others were feeling just like me, and I knew we +could not go on like this till tea-time. And yet I didn't see any other +way to go on in. It was Hilda who cut the Gorgeous knot at last. She +said: + +'Hugh, let you and I go and make a lovely surprise for Rupert and +Sidney.' + +And before I could think of any way of stopping them without being +downright rude to our new cousin, they had fled the scene, just like any +old conspirators. Rupert--me, I mean--was left alone with the stranger. +I said: + +'Is there anything you'd like to do?' + +And he said, 'No, thank you.' + +Then neither of us said anything for a bit--and I could hear the others +shrieking with laughter in the hall. + +I said, 'I wonder what the surprise will be like.' + +He said, 'Yes, I wonder'; but I could tell from his tone that he did not +wonder a bit. + +The others were yelling with laughter. Have you ever noticed how very +amused people always are when you're not there? If you're in bed--ill, +or in disgrace, or anything--it always sounds like far finer jokes than +ever occur when you are not out of things. + +'Do you like reading?' said I--who am Rupert--in the tones of despair. + +'Yes,' said the cousin. + +'Then take a book,' I said hastily, for I really could not stand it +another second, 'and you just read till the surprise is ready. I think I +ought to go and help the others. I'm the eldest, you know.' + +I did not wait--I suppose if you're ten you can choose a book for +yourself--and I went. + +Hilda's idea was just Indians, but I thought a wigwam would be nice. So +we made one with the hall table and the fur rugs off the floor. If +everything had been different, and Aunt Ellie hadn't been ill, we were +to have had turkey for dinner. The turkey's feathers were splendid for +Indians, and the striped blankets off Hugh's and my beds, and all +mother's beads. The hall is big like a room, and there was a fire. The +afternoon passed like a beautiful dream. When Rupert had done his own +feathering and blanketing, as well as brown paper moccasins, he helped +the others. The tea-bell rang before we were quite dressed. We got +Louisa to go up and tell our cousin that the surprise was ready, and we +all got inside the wigwam. It was a very tight fit, with the feathers +and the blankets. + +He came down the stairs very slowly, reading all the time, and when he +got to the mat at the bottom of the stairs we burst forth in all our +war-paint from the wigwam. It upset, because Hugh and Hilda stuck +between the table's legs, and it fell on the stone floor with quite a +loud noise. The wild Indians picked themselves up out of the ruins and +did the finest war-dance I've ever seen in front of my cousin Sidney. + +He gave one little scream, and then sat down suddenly on the bottom +steps. He leaned his head against the banisters and we thought he was +admiring the war-dance, till Eliza, who had been laughing and making as +much noise as any one, suddenly went up to him and shook him. + +'Stop that noise,' she said to us, 'he's gone off into a dead faint.' + +He had. + +Of course we were very sorry and all that, but we never thought he'd be +such a muff as to be frightened of three Red Indians and a wigwam that +happened to upset. He was put to bed, and we had our teas. + +'I wish we hadn't,' Hilda said. + +'So do I,' said Hugh. + +But Rupert said, 'No one _could_ have expected a cousin of ours to be a +chicken-hearted duffer. He's a muff. It's bad enough to have a muff in +the house at all, and at Christmas time, too. But a related muff!' + +Still the affair had cast a gloom, and we were glad when it was +bed-time. + +Next day was Christmas Day, and no presents, and nobody but the servants +to wish a Merry Christmas to. + +Our cousin Sidney came down to breakfast, and as it was Christmas Day +Rupert bent his proud spirit to own he was sorry about the Indians. + +Sidney said, 'It doesn't matter. I'm sorry too. Only I didn't expect +it.' + +We suggested two or three games, such as Parlour Cricket, National +Gallery, and Grab--but Sidney said he would rather read. So we said +would he mind if we played out the Indian game which we had dropped, out +of politeness, when he fainted. + +He said: + +'I don't mind at all, now I know what it is you're up to. No, thank you, +I'd rather read,' he added, in reply to Rupert's unselfish offer to +dress him for the part of Sitting Bull. + +So he read _Treasure Island_, and we fought on the stairs with no +casualties except the gas globes, and then we scalped all the +dolls--putting on paper scalps first because Hilda wished it--and we +scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall--hers was a white scalp +with lacey stuff on it and long streamers. + +[Illustration: 'We scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall.'] + +And when it was beginning to get dark we thought of flying machines. Of +course Sidney wouldn't play at that either, and Hilda and Hugh were +contented with paper wings--there were some rolls of rather decent +yellow and pink crinkled paper that mother had bought to make lamp +shades of. They made wings of this, and then they played at fairies up +and down the stairs, while Sidney sat at the bottom of the stairs and +went on reading _Treasure Island_. But Rupert was determined to have a +flying machine, with real flipper-flappery wings, like at Hendon. So he +got two brass fire-guards out of the spare room and mother's bedroom, +and covered them with newspapers fastened on with string. Then he got a +tea-tray and fastened it on to himself with rug-straps, and then he +slipped his arms in between the string and the fire-guards, and went to +the top of the stairs and shouting, 'Look out below there! Beware Flying +Machines!' he sat down suddenly on the tray, and tobogganed gloriously +down the stairs, flapping his fire-guard wings. It was a great success, +and felt more like flying than anything he ever played at. But Hilda had +not had time to look out thoroughly, because he did not wait any time +between his warning and his descent. So that she was still fluttering, +in the character of Queen of the Butterfly Fairies, about half-way down +the stairs when the flying machine, composed of the two guards, the +tea-tray, and Rupert, started from the top of them, and she could only +get out of the way by standing back close against the wall. Unluckily +the place where she was, was also the place where the gas was burning in +a little recess. You remember we had broken the globe when we were +playing Indians. + +Now, of course, you know what happened, because you have read _Harriett +and the Matches_, and all the rest of the stories that have been written +to persuade children not to play with fire. No one was playing with fire +that day, it is true, or doing anything really naughty at all--but +however naughty we had been the thing that happened couldn't have been +much worse. For the flying machine as it came rushing round the curve of +the staircase banged against the legs of Hilda. She screamed and +stumbled back. Her pink paper wings went into the gas that hadn't a +globe. They flamed up, her hair frizzled, and her lace collar caught +fire. Rupert could not do anything because he was held fast in his +flying machine, and he and it were rolling painfully on the mat at the +bottom of the stairs. + +[Illustration: Sidney threw the rug over her, and rolled her over and +over.] + +Hilda screamed. + +I have since heard that a great yellow light fell on the pages of +_Treasure Island_. + +Next moment _Treasure Island_ went spinning across the room. Sidney +caught up the fur rug that was part of the wigwam, and as Hilda, +screaming horribly, and with wings not of paper but of flames, rushed +down the staircase, and stumbled over the flying machine, Sidney threw +the rug over her, and rolled her over and over on the floor. + +'Lie down!' he cried. 'Lie down! It's the only way.' + +But somehow people never will lie down when their clothes are on fire, +any more than they will lie still in the water if they think they are +drowning, and some one is trying to save them. It came to something very +like a fight. Hilda fought and struggled. Rupert got out of his +fire-guards and added himself and his tea-tray to the scrimmage. Hugh +slid down to the knob of the banisters and sat there yelling. The +servants came rushing in. + +But by that time the fire was out. And Sidney gasped out, 'It's all +right. You aren't burned, Hilda, are you?' + +Hilda was much too frightened to know whether she was burnt or not, but +Eliza looked her over, and it turned out that only her neck was a little +scorched, and a good deal of her hair frizzled off short. + +Every one stood, rather breathless and pale, and every one's face was +much dirtier than customary, except Hugh's, which he had, as usual, +dirtied thoroughly quite early in the afternoon. Rupert felt perfectly +awful, ashamed and proud and rather sick. 'You're a regular hero, +Sidney,' he said--and it was not easy to say--'and yesterday I said you +were a related muff. And I'm jolly sorry I did. Shake hands, won't you?' + +Sidney hesitated. + +'Too proud?' Rupert's feelings were hurt, and I should not wonder if he +spoke rather fiercely. + +'It's--it's a little burnt, I think,' said Sidney, 'don't be angry,' and +he held out the left hand. + +Rupert grasped it. + +'I do beg your pardon,' he said, 'you _are_ a hero!' + + * * * * * + +Sidney's hand was bad for ever so long, but we were tremendous chums +after that. + +It was when they'd done the hand up with scraped potato and salad oil--a +great, big, fat, wet plaster of it--that I said to him: + +'I don't care if you don't like games. Let's be pals.' + +And he said, 'I do like games, but I couldn't care about anything with +mother so ill. I know you'll think I'm a muff, but I'm not really, only +I do love her so.' + +And with that he began to cry, and I thumped him on the back, and told +him exactly what a beast I knew I was, to comfort him. + +When Aunt Ellie was well again we kept Christmas on the 6th of January, +which used to be Christmas Day in middle-aged times. + +Father came home before New Year, and he had a silver medal made, with a +flame on one side, and on the other Sidney's name, and 'For Bravery.' + +If I had not been tied up in fire-guards and tea-trays perhaps I should +have thought of the rug and got the medal. But I do not grudge it to +Sidney. He deserved it. And he is not a muff. I see now that a person +might very well be frightened at finding Indians in the hall of a +strange house, especially if the person had just come from the kind of +India where the Indians are quite a different sort, and much milder, +with no feathers and wigwams and war-dances, but only dusky features and +University Degrees. + + + + +X + +THE AUNT AND AMABEL + + +It is not pleasant to be a fish out of water. To be a cat in water is +not what any one would desire. To be in a temper is uncomfortable. And +no one can fully taste the joys of life if he is in a Little Lord +Fauntleroy suit. But by far the most uncomfortable thing to be in is +disgrace, sometimes amusingly called Coventry by the people who are not +in it. + +We have all been there. It is a place where the heart sinks and aches, +where familiar faces are clouded and changed, where any remark that one +may tremblingly make is received with stony silence or with the +assurance that nobody wants to talk to such a naughty child. If you are +only in disgrace, and not in solitary confinement, you will creep about +a house that is like the one you have had such jolly times in, and yet +as unlike it as a bad dream is to a June morning. You will long to speak +to people, and be afraid to speak. You will wonder whether there is +anything you can do that will change things at all. You have said you +are sorry, and that has changed nothing. You will wonder whether you are +to stay for ever in this desolate place, outside all hope and love and +fun and happiness. And though it has happened before, and has always, in +the end, come to an end, you can never be quite sure that this time it +is not going to last for ever. + +'It _is_ going to last for ever,' said Amabel, who was eight. 'What +shall I do? Oh whatever shall I do?' + +What she _had_ done ought to have formed the subject of her +meditations. And she had done what had seemed to her all the time, and +in fact still seemed, a self-sacrificing and noble act. She was staying +with an aunt--measles or a new baby, or the painters in the house, I +forget which, the cause of her banishment. And the aunt, who was really +a great-aunt and quite old enough to know better, had been grumbling +about her head gardener to a lady who called in blue spectacles and a +beady bonnet with violet flowers in it. + +'He hardly lets me have a plant for the table,' said the aunt, 'and that +border in front of the breakfast-room window--it's just bare earth--and +I expressly ordered chrysanthemums to be planted there. He thinks of +nothing but his greenhouse.' + +The beady-violet-blue-glassed lady snorted, and said she didn't know +what we were coming to, and she would have just half a cup, please, with +not quite so much milk, thank you very much. + +Now what would you have done? Minded your own business most likely, and +not got into trouble at all. Not so Amabel. Enthusiastically anxious to +do something which should make the great-aunt see what a thoughtful, +unselfish, little girl she really was (the aunt's opinion of her being +at present quite otherwise), she got up very early in the morning and +took the cutting-out scissors from the work-room table drawer and stole, +'like an errand of mercy,' she told herself, to the greenhouse where she +busily snipped off every single flower she could find. MacFarlane was at +his breakfast. Then with the points of the cutting-out scissors she made +nice deep little holes in the flower-bed where the chrysanthemums ought +to have been, and struck the flowers in--chrysanthemums, geraniums, +primulas, orchids, and carnations. It would be a lovely surprise for +Auntie. + +Then the aunt came down to breakfast and saw the lovely surprise. +Amabel's world turned upside down and inside out suddenly and +surprisingly, and there she was, in Coventry, and not even the housemaid +would speak to her. Her great-uncle, whom she passed in the hall on her +way to her own room, did indeed, as he smoothed his hat, murmur, 'Sent +to Coventry, eh? Never mind, it'll soon be over,' and went off to the +City banging the front door behind him. + +He meant well, but he did not understand. + +Amabel understood, or she thought she did, and knew in her miserable +heart that she was sent to Coventry for the last time, and that this +time she would stay there. + +'I don't care,' she said quite untruly. 'I'll never try to be kind to +any one again.' And that wasn't true either. She was to spend the whole +day alone in the best bedroom, the one with the four-post bed and the +red curtains and the large wardrobe with a looking-glass in it that you +could see yourself in to the very ends of your strap-shoes. + +The first thing Amabel did was to look at herself in the glass. She was +still sniffing and sobbing, and her eyes were swimming in tears, another +one rolled down her nose as she looked--that was very interesting. +Another rolled down, and that was the last, because as soon as you get +interested in watching your tears they stop. + +Next she looked out of the window, and saw the decorated flower-bed, +just as she had left it, very bright and beautiful. + +'Well, it _does_ look nice,' she said. 'I don't care what they say.' + +Then she looked round the room for something to read; there was nothing. +The old-fashioned best bedrooms never did have anything. Only on the +large dressing-table, on the left-hand side of the oval swing-glass, +was one book covered in red velvet, and on it, very twistily +embroidered in yellow silk and mixed up with misleading leaves and +squiggles were the letters, A.B.C. + +'Perhaps it's a picture alphabet,' said Mabel, and was quite pleased, +though of course she was much too old to care for alphabets. Only when +one is very unhappy and very dull, anything is better than nothing. She +opened the book. + +'Why, it's only a time-table!' she said. 'I suppose it's for people when +they want to go away, and Auntie puts it here in case they suddenly make +up their minds to go, and feel that they can't wait another minute. I +feel like that, only it's no good, and I expect other people do too.' + +She had learned how to use the dictionary, and this seemed to go the +same way. She looked up the names of all the places she knew.--Brighton +where she had once spent a month, Rugby where her brother was at school, +and Home, which was Amberley--and she saw the times when the trains left +for these places, and wished she could go by those trains. + +And once more she looked round the best bedroom which was her prison, +and thought of the Bastille, and wished she had a toad to tame, like the +poor Viscount, or a flower to watch growing, like Picciola, and she was +very sorry for herself, and very angry with her aunt, and very grieved +at the conduct of her parents--she had expected better things from +them--and now they had left her in this dreadful place where no one +loved her, and no one understood her. + +There seemed to be no place for toads or flowers in the best room, it +was carpeted all over even in its least noticeable corners. It had +everything a best room ought to have--and everything was of dark shining +mahogany. The toilet-table had a set of red and gold glass things--a +tray, candlesticks, a ring-stand, many little pots with lids, and two +bottles with stoppers. When the stoppers were taken out they smelt very +strange, something like very old scent, and something like cold cream +also very old, and something like going to the dentist's. + +I do not know whether the scent of those bottles had anything to do with +what happened. It certainly was a very extraordinary scent. Quite +different from any perfume that I smell nowadays, but I remember that +when I was a little girl I smelt it quite often. But then there are no +best rooms now such as there used to be. The best rooms now are gay with +chintz and mirrors, and there are always flowers and books, and little +tables to put your teacup on, and sofas, and armchairs. And they smell +of varnish and new furniture. + +When Amabel had sniffed at both bottles and looked in all the pots, +which were quite clean and empty except for a pearl button and two pins +in one of them, she took up the A.B.C. again to look for Whitby, where +her godmother lived. And it was then that she saw the extraordinary name +'_Whereyouwantogoto._' This was odd--but the name of the station from +which it started was still more extraordinary, for it was not Euston or +Cannon Street or Marylebone. + +The name of the station was '_Bigwardrobeinspareroom._' And below this +name, really quite unusual for a station, Amabel read in small letters: + +'Single fares strictly forbidden. Return tickets No Class Nuppence. +Trains leave _Bigwardrobeinspareroom_ all the time.' + +And under that in still smaller letters-- + +'_You had better go now._' + +What would you have done? Rubbed your eyes and thought you were +dreaming? Well, if you had, nothing more would have happened. Nothing +ever does when you behave like that. Amabel was wiser. She went straight +to the Big Wardrobe and turned its glass handle. + +'I expect it's only shelves and people's best hats,' she said. But she +only said it. People often say what they don't mean, so that if things +turn out as they don't expect, they can say 'I told you so,' but this is +most dishonest to one's self, and being dishonest to one's self is +almost worse than being dishonest to other people. Amabel would never +have done it if she had been herself. But she was out of herself with +anger and unhappiness. + +Of course it wasn't hats. It was, most amazingly, a crystal cave, very +oddly shaped like a railway station. It seemed to be lighted by stars, +which is, of course, unusual in a booking office, and over the station +clock was a full moon. The clock had no figures, only _Now_ in shining +letters all round it, twelve times, and the _Nows_ touched, so the clock +was bound to be always right. How different from the clock you go to +school by! + +A porter in white satin hurried forward to take Amabel's luggage. Her +luggage was the A.B.C. which she still held in her hand. + +'Lots of time, Miss,' he said, grinning in a most friendly way, 'I _am_ +glad you're going. You _will_ enjoy yourself! What a nice little girl +you are!' + +This was cheering. Amabel smiled. + +At the pigeon-hole that tickets come out of, another person, also in +white satin, was ready with a mother-of-pearl ticket, round, like a card +counter. + +'Here you are, Miss,' he said with the kindest smile, 'price nothing, +and refreshments free all the way. It's a pleasure,' he added, 'to issue +a ticket to a nice little lady like you.' The train was entirely of +crystal, too, and the cushions were of white satin. There were little +buttons such as you have for electric bells, and on them +'_Whatyouwantoeat_,' '_Whatyouwantodrink_,' '_Whatyouwantoread_,' in +silver letters. + +Amabel pressed all the buttons at once, and instantly felt obliged to +blink. The blink over, she saw on the cushion by her side a silver tray +with vanilla ice, boiled chicken and white sauce, almonds (blanched), +peppermint creams, and mashed potatoes, and a long glass of +lemonade--beside the tray was a book. It was Mrs. Ewing's _Bad-tempered +Family_, and it was bound in white vellum. + +There is nothing more luxurious than eating while you read--unless it be +reading while you eat. Amabel did both: they are not the same thing, as +you will see if you think the matter over. + +And just as the last thrill of the last spoonful of ice died away, and +the last full stop of the _Bad-tempered Family_ met Amabel's eye, the +train stopped, and hundreds of railway officials in white velvet +shouted, '_Whereyouwantogoto!_ Get out!' + +A velvety porter, who was somehow like a silkworm as well as like a +wedding handkerchief sachet, opened the door. + +'Now!' he said, 'come on out, Miss Amabel, unless you want to go to +_Whereyoudon'twantogoto_.' + +She hurried out, on to an ivory platform. + +'Not on the ivory, if you please,' said the porter, 'the white Axminster +carpet--it's laid down expressly for you.' + +Amabel walked along it and saw ahead of her a crowd, all in white. + +'What's all that?' she asked the friendly porter. + +'It's the Mayor, dear Miss Amabel,' he said, 'with your address.' + +'My address is The Old Cottage, Amberley,' she said, 'at least it used +to be'--and found herself face to face with the Mayor. He was very like +Uncle George, but he bowed low to her, which was not Uncle George's +habit, and said: + +'Welcome, dear little Amabel. Please accept this admiring address from +the Mayor and burgesses and apprentices and all the rest of it, of +Whereyouwantogoto.' + +The address was in silver letters, on white silk, and it said: + +'Welcome, dear Amabel. We know you meant to please your aunt. It was +very clever of you to think of putting the greenhouse flowers in the +bare flower-bed. You couldn't be expected to know that you ought to ask +leave before you touch other people's things.' + +'Oh, but,' said Amabel quite confused. 'I did....' + +But the band struck up, and drowned her words. The instruments of the +band were all of silver, and the bandsmen's clothes of white leather. +The tune they played was 'Cheero!' + +Then Amabel found that she was taking part in a procession, hand in hand +with the Mayor, and the band playing like mad all the time. The Mayor +was dressed entirely in cloth of silver, and as they went along he kept +saying, close to her ear. + +'You have our sympathy, you have our sympathy,' till she felt quite +giddy. + +There was a flower show--all the flowers were white. There was a +concert--all the tunes were old ones. There was a play called _Put +yourself in her place_. And there was a banquet, with Amabel in the +place of honour. + +They drank her health in white wine whey, and then through the Crystal +Hall of a thousand gleaming pillars, where thousands of guests, all in +white, were met to do honour to Amabel, the shout went up--'Speech, +speech!' + +I cannot explain to you what had been going on in Amabel's mind. Perhaps +you know. Whatever it was it began like a very tiny butterfly in a box, +that could not keep quiet, but fluttered, and fluttered, and fluttered. +And when the Mayor rose and said: + +'Dear Amabel, you whom we all love and understand; dear Amabel, you who +were so unjustly punished for trying to give pleasure to an unresponsive +aunt; poor, ill-used, ill-treated, innocent Amabel; blameless, suffering +Amabel, we await your words,' that fluttering, tiresome butterfly-thing +inside her seemed suddenly to swell to the size and strength of a +fluttering albatross, and Amabel got up from her seat of honour on the +throne of ivory and silver and pearl, and said, choking a little, and +extremely red about the ears-- + +'Ladies and gentlemen, I don't want to make a speech, I just want to +say, "Thank you," and to say--to say--to say....' + +She stopped, and all the white crowd cheered. + +'To say,' she went on as the cheers died down, 'that I wasn't blameless, +and innocent, and all those nice things. I ought to have thought. And +they _were_ Auntie's flowers. But I did want to please her. It's all so +mixed. Oh, I wish Auntie was here!' + +And instantly Auntie _was_ there, very tall and quite nice-looking, in a +white velvet dress and an ermine cloak. + +'Speech,' cried the crowd. 'Speech from Auntie!' + +Auntie stood on the step of the throne beside Amabel, and said: + +'I think, perhaps, I was hasty. And I think Amabel meant to please me. +But all the flowers that were meant for the winter ... well--I was +annoyed. I'm sorry.' + +'Oh, Auntie, so am I--so am I,' cried Amabel, and the two began to hug +each other on the ivory step, while the crowd cheered like mad, and the +band struck up that well-known air, 'If you only understood!' + +'Oh, Auntie,' said Amabel among hugs, 'This is such a lovely place, come +and see everything, we may, mayn't we?' she asked the Mayor. + +'The place is yours,' he said, 'and now you can see many things that +you couldn't see before. We are The People who Understand. And now you +are one of Us. And your aunt is another.' + +I must not tell you all that they saw because these things are secrets +only known to The People who Understand, and perhaps you do not yet +belong to that happy nation. And if you do, you will know without my +telling you. + +And when it grew late, and the stars were drawn down, somehow, to hang +among the trees, Amabel fell asleep in her aunt's arms beside a white +foaming fountain on a marble terrace, where white peacocks came to +drink. + + * * * * * + +She awoke on the big bed in the spare room, but her aunt's arms were +still round her. + +'Amabel,' she was saying, 'Amabel!' + +'Oh, Auntie,' said Amabel sleepily, 'I am so sorry. It _was_ stupid of +me. And I did mean to please you.' + +'It _was_ stupid of you,' said the aunt, 'but I am sure you meant to +please me. Come down to supper.' And Amabel has a confused recollection +of her aunt's saying that she was sorry, adding, 'Poor little Amabel.' + +If the aunt really did say it, it was fine of her. And Amabel is quite +sure that she did say it. + + * * * * * + +Amabel and her great-aunt are now the best of friends. But neither of +them has ever spoken to the other of the beautiful city called +'_Whereyouwantogoto._' Amabel is too shy to be the first to mention it, +and no doubt the aunt has her own reasons for not broaching the subject. + +But of course they both know that they have been there together, and it +is easy to get on with people when you and they alike belong to the +_Peoplewhounderstand_. + + * * * * * + +If you look in the A.B.C. that your people have you will not find +'_Whereyouwantogoto._' It is only in the red velvet bound copy that +Amabel found in her aunt's best bedroom. + + + + +XI + +KENNETH AND THE CARP + + +Kenneth's cousins had often stayed with him, but he had never till now +stayed with them. And you know how different everything is when you are +in your own house. You are certain exactly what games the grown-ups +dislike and what games they will not notice; also what sort of mischief +is looked over and what sort is not. And, being accustomed to your own +sort of grown-ups, you can always be pretty sure when you are likely to +catch it. Whereas strange houses are, in this matter of catching it, +full of the most unpleasing surprises. + +You know all this. But Kenneth did not. And still less did he know what +were the sort of things which, in his cousins' house, led to +disapproval, punishment, scoldings; in short, to catching it. So that +that business of cousin Ethel's jewel-case, which is where this story +ought to begin, was really not Kenneth's fault at all. Though for a +time.... But I am getting on too fast. + +Kenneth's cousins were four,--Conrad, Alison, George, and Ethel. The +three first were natural sort of cousins somewhere near his own age, but +Ethel was hardly like a cousin at all, more like an aunt. Because she +was grown-up. She wore long dresses and all her hair on the top of her +head, a mass of combs and hairpins; in fact she had just had her +twenty-first birthday with iced cakes and a party and lots of presents, +most of them jewelry. And that brings me again to that affair of the +jewel-case, or would bring me if I were not determined to tell things in +their proper order, which is the first duty of a story-teller. + +Kenneth's home was in Kent, a wooden house among cherry orchards, and +the nearest river five miles away. That was why he looked forward in +such a very extra and excited way to his visit to his cousins. Their +house was very old, red brick with ivy all over it. It had a secret +staircase, only the secret was not kept any longer, and the housemaids +carried pails and brooms up and down the staircase. And the house was +surrounded by a real deep moat, with clear water in it, and long weeds +and water-lilies and fish--the gold and the silver and the everyday +kinds. + +[Illustration: Early next morning he tried to catch fish with several +pieces of string knotted together and a hairpin.] + +The first evening of Kenneth's visit passed uneventfully. His bedroom +window looked over the moat, and early next morning he tried to catch +fish with several pieces of string knotted together and a hairpin kindly +lent to him by the parlourmaid. He did not catch any fish, partly +because he baited the hairpin with brown windsor soap, and it washed +off. + +'Besides, fish hate soap,' Conrad told him, 'and that hook of yours +would do for a whale perhaps. Only we don't stock our moat with whales. +But I'll ask father to lend you his rod, it's a spiffing one, much +jollier than ours. And I won't tell the kids because they'd never let it +down on you. Fishing with a hairpin!' + +'Thank you very much,' said Kenneth, feeling that his cousin was a man +and a brother. The kids were only two or three years younger than he +was, but that is a great deal when you are the elder; and besides, one +of the kids was a girl. + +'Alison's a bit of a sneak,' Conrad used to say when anger overcome +politeness and brotherly feeling. Afterwards, when the anger was gone +and the other things left, he would say, 'You see she went to a beastly +school for a bit, at Brighton, for her health. And father says they must +have bullied her. All girls are not like it, I believe.' + +But her sneakish qualities, if they really existed, were generally +hidden, and she was very clever at thinking of new games, and very kind +if you got into a row over anything. + +George was eight and stout. He was not a sneak, but concealment was +foreign to his nature, so he never could keep a secret unless he forgot +it. Which fortunately happened quite often. + +The uncle very amiably lent Kenneth his fishing-rod, and provided real +bait in the most thoughtful and generous manner. And the four children +fished all the morning and all the afternoon. Conrad caught two roach +and an eel. George caught nothing, and nothing was what the other two +caught. But it was glorious sport. And the next day there was to be a +picnic. Life to Kenneth seemed full of new and delicious excitement. + +In the evening the aunt and the uncle went out to dinner, and Ethel, in +her grown-up way, went with them, very grand in a blue silk dress and +turquoises. So the children were left to themselves. + +You know the empty hush which settles down on a house when the grown-ups +have gone out to dinner and you have the whole evening to do what you +like in. The children stood in the hall a moment after the carriage +wheels had died away with the scrunching swish that the carriage wheels +always made as they turned the corner by the lodge, where the gravel was +extra thick and soft owing to the droppings from the trees. From the +kitchen came the voices of the servants, laughing and talking. + +'It's two hours at least to bedtime,' said Alison. 'What shall we do?' +Alison always began by saying 'What shall we do?' and always ended by +deciding what should be done. 'You all say what you think,' she went +on, 'and then we'll vote about it. You first, Ken, because you're the +visitor.' + +'Fishing,' said Kenneth, because it was the only thing he could think +of. + +'Make toffee,' said Conrad. + +'Build a great big house with all the bricks,' said George. + +'We can't make toffee,' Alison explained gently but firmly, 'because you +know what the pan was like last time, and cook said, "never again, not +much." And it's no good building houses, Georgie, when you could be out +of doors. And fishing's simply rotten when we've been at it all day. +I've thought of something.' + +So of course all the others said, 'What?' + +'We'll have a pageant, a river pageant, on the moat. We'll all dress up +and hang Chinese lanterns in the trees. I'll be the Sunflower lady that +the Troubadour came all across the sea, because he loved her so, for, +and one of you can be the Troubadour, and the others can be sailors or +anything you like.' + +'I shall be the Troubadour,' said Conrad with decision. + +'I think you ought to let Kenneth because he's the visitor,' said +George, who would have liked to be it immensely himself, or anyhow did +not see why Conrad should be a troubadour if _he_ couldn't. + +Conrad said what manners required, which was: + +'Oh! all right, I don't care about being the beastly Troubadour.' + +'You might be the Princess's brother,' Alison suggested. + +'Not me,' said Conrad scornfully, 'I'll be the captain of the ship.' + +'In a turban the brother would be, with the Benares cloak, and the +Persian dagger out of the cabinet in the drawing-room,' Alison went on +unmoved. + +'I'll be that,' said George. + +'No, you won't, I shall, so there,' said Conrad. 'You can be the captain +of the ship.' + +(But in the end both boys were captains, because that meant being on the +boat, whereas being the Princess's brother, however turbanned, only +meant standing on the bank. And there is no rule to prevent captains +wearing turbans and Persian daggers, except in the Navy where, of +course, it is not done.) + +So then they all tore up to the attic where the dressing-up trunk was, +and pulled out all the dressing-up things on to the floor. And all the +time they were dressing, Alison was telling the others what they were to +say and do. The Princess wore a white satin skirt and a red flannel +blouse and a veil formed of several motor scarves of various colours. +Also a wreath of pink roses off one of Ethel's old hats, and a pair of +pink satin slippers with sparkly buckles. + +Kenneth wore a blue silk dressing-jacket and a yellow sash, a lace +collar, and a towel turban. And the others divided between them an +eastern dressing-gown, once the property of their grandfather, a black +spangled scarf, very holey, a pair of red and white football stockings, +a Chinese coat, and two old muslin curtains, which, rolled up, made +turbans of enormous size and fierceness. + +On the landing outside cousin Ethel's open door Alison paused and said, +'I say!' + +'Oh! come on,' said Conrad, 'we haven't fixed the Chinese lanterns yet, +and it's getting dark.' + +'You go on,' said Alison, 'I've just thought of something.' + +The children were allowed to play in the boat so long as they didn't +loose it from its moorings. The painter was extremely long, and quite +the effect of coming home from a long voyage was produced when the three +boys pushed the boat out as far as it would go among the boughs of the +beech-tree which overhung the water, and then reappeared in the circle +of red and yellow light thrown by the Chinese lanterns. + +'What ho! ashore there!' shouted the captain. + +'What ho!' said a voice from the shore which, Alison explained, was +disguised. + +'We be three poor mariners,' said Conrad by a happy effort of memory, +'just newly come to shore. We seek news of the Princess of Tripoli.' + +'She's in her palace,' said the disguised voice, 'wait a minute, and +I'll tell her you're here. But what do you want her for? ("A poor +minstrel of France") go on, Con.' + +'A poor minstrel of France,' said Conrad, '(all right! I remember,) who +has heard of the Princess's beauty has come to lay, to lay----' + +'His heart,' said Alison. + +[Illustration: A radiant vision stepped into the circle of light.] + +'All right, I know. His heart at her something or other feet.' + +'Pretty feet,' said Alison. 'I go to tell the Princess.' + +Next moment from the shadows on the bank a radiant vision stepped into +the circle of light, crying-- + +'Oh! Rudel, is it indeed thou? Thou art come at last. O welcome to the +arms of the Princess!' + +'What do I do now?' whispered Rudel (who was Kenneth) in the boat, and +at the same moment Conrad and George said, as with one voice-- + +'My hat! Alison, won't you catch it!' + +For at the end of the Princess's speech she had thrown back her veils +and revealed a blaze of splendour. She wore several necklaces, one of +seed pearls, one of topazes, and one of Australian shells, besides a +string of amber and one of coral. And the front of the red flannel +blouse was studded with brooches, in one at least of which diamonds +gleamed. Each arm had one or two bracelets and on her clenched hands +glittered as many rings as any Princess could wish to wear. + +So her brothers had some excuse for saying, 'You'll catch it.' + +'No, I sha'n't. It's my look out, anyhow. Do shut up,' said the +Princess, stamping her foot. 'Now then, Ken, go ahead. Ken, you say, "Oh +Lady, I faint with rapture!"' + +'I faint with rapture,' said Kenneth stolidly. 'Now I land, don't I?' + +He landed and stared at the jewelled hand the Princess held out. + +'At last, at last,' she said, 'but you ought to say that, Ken. I say, I +think I'd better be an eloping Princess, and then I can come in the +boat. Rudel dies really, but that's so dull. Lead me to your ship, oh +noble stranger! for you have won the Princess, and with you I will live +and die. Give me your hand, can't you, silly, and do mind my train.' + +So Kenneth led her to the boat, and with some difficulty, for the satin +train got between her feet, she managed to flounder into the punt. + +'Now you stand and bow,' she said. 'Fair Rudel, with this ring I thee +wed,' she pressed a large amethyst ring into his hand, 'remember that +the Princess of Tripoli is yours for ever. Now let's sing _Integer +Vitae_ because it's Latin.' + +So they sat in the boat and sang. And presently the servants came out to +listen and admire, and at the sound of the servants' approach the +Princess veiled her shining splendour. + +'It's prettier than wot the Coventry pageant was, so it is,' said the +cook, 'but it's long past your bed times. So come on out of that there +dangerous boat, there's dears.' + +So then the children went to bed. And when the house was quiet again, +Alison slipped down and put back Ethel's jewelry, fitting the things +into their cases and boxes as correctly as she could. 'Ethel won't +notice,' she thought, but of course Ethel did. + +So that next day each child was asked separately by Ethel's mother who +had been playing with Ethel's jewelry. And Conrad and George said they +would rather not say. This was a form they always used in that family +when that sort of question was asked, and it meant, 'It wasn't me, and I +don't want to sneak.' + +And when it came to Alison's turn, she found to her surprise and horror +that instead of saying, 'I played with them,' she had said, 'I would +rather not say.' + +Of course the mother thought that it was Kenneth who had had the jewels +to play with. So when it came to his turn he was not asked the same +question as the others, but his aunt said: + +'Kenneth, you are a very naughty little boy to take your cousin Ethel's +jewelry to play with.' + +'I didn't,' said Kenneth. + +'Hush! hush!' said the aunt, 'do not make your fault worse by +untruthfulness. And what have you done with the amethyst ring?' + +Kenneth was just going to say that he had given it back to Alison, when +he saw that this would be sneakish. So he said, getting hot to the ears, +'You don't suppose I've stolen your beastly ring, do you, Auntie?' + +'Don't you dare to speak to me like that,' the aunt very naturally +replied. 'No, Kenneth, I do not think you would steal, but the ring is +missing and it must be found.' + +Kenneth was furious and frightened. He stood looking down and kicking +the leg of the chair. + +'You had better look for it. You will have plenty of time, because I +shall not allow you to go to the picnic with the others. The mere taking +of the jewelry was wrong, but if you had owned your fault and asked +Ethel's pardon, I should have overlooked it. But you have told me an +untruth and you have lost the ring. You are a very wicked child, and it +will make your dear mother very unhappy when she hears of it. That her +boy should be a liar. It is worse than being a thief!' + +At this Kenneth's fortitude gave way, and he lost his head. 'Oh, don't,' +he said, 'I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. Oh! don't tell mother I'm a +thief and a liar. Oh! Aunt Effie, please, _please_ don't.' And with that +he began to cry. + +Any doubts Aunt Effie might have had were settled by this outbreak. It +was now quite plain to her that Kenneth had really intended to keep the +ring. + +'You will remain in your room till the picnic party has started,' the +aunt went on, 'and then you must find the ring. Remember I expect it to +be found when I return. And I hope you will be in a better frame of mind +and really sorry for having been so wicked.' + +'Mayn't I see Alison?' was all he found to say. + +And the answer was, 'Certainly not. I cannot allow you to associate with +your cousins. You are not fit to be with honest, truthful children.' + +So they all went to the picnic, and Kenneth was left alone. When they +had gone he crept down and wandered furtively through the empty rooms, +ashamed to face the servants, and feeling almost as wicked as though he +had really done something wrong. He thought about it all, over and over +again, and the more he thought the more certain he was that he _had_ +handed back the ring to Alison last night when the voices of the +servants were first heard from the dark lawn. + +But what was the use of saying so? No one would believe him, and it +would be sneaking anyhow. Besides, perhaps he _hadn't_ handed it back to +her. Or rather, perhaps he had handed it and she hadn't taken it. +Perhaps it had slipped into the boat. He would go and see. + +But he did not find it in the boat, though he turned up the carpet and +even took up the boards to look. And then an extremely miserable little +boy began to search for an amethyst ring in all sorts of impossible +places, indoors and out. You know the hopeless way in which you look for +things that you know perfectly well you will never find, the borrowed +penknife that you dropped in the woods, for instance, or the week's +pocket-money which slipped through that hole in your pocket as you went +to the village to spend it. + +The servants gave him his meals and told him to cheer up. But cheering +up and Kenneth were, for the time, strangers. People in books never can +eat when they are in trouble, but I have noticed myself that if the +trouble has gone on for some hours, eating is really rather a comfort. +You don't enjoy eating so much as usual, perhaps, but at any rate it is +something to do, and takes the edge off your sorrow for a short time. +And cook was sorry for Kenneth and sent him up a very nice dinner and a +very nice tea. Roast chicken and gooseberry pie the dinner was, and for +tea there was cake with almond icing on it. + +The sun was very low when he went back wearily to have one more look in +the boat for that detestable amethyst ring. Of course it was not there. +And the picnic party would be home soon. And he really did not know what +his aunt would do to him. + +'Shut me up in a dark cupboard, perhaps,' he thought gloomily, 'or put +me to bed all day to-morrow. Or give me lines to write out, thousands, +and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, of them.' + +The boat, set in motion by his stepping into it, swung out to the full +length of its rope. The sun was shining almost level across the water. +It was a very still evening, and the reflections of the trees and of the +house were as distinct as the house and the trees themselves. And the +water was unusually clear. He could see the fish swimming about, and the +sand and pebbles at the bottom of the moat. How clear and quiet it +looked down there, and what fun the fishes seemed to be having. + +'I wish I was a fish,' said Kenneth. 'Nobody punishes _them_ for taking +rings they _didn't_ take.' + +And then suddenly he saw the ring itself, lying calm, and quiet, and +round, and shining, on the smooth sand at the bottom of the moat. + +He reached for the boat-hook and leaned over the edge of the boat trying +to get up the ring on the boat-hook's point. Then there was a splash. + +'Good gracious! I wonder what that is?' said cook in the kitchen, and +dropped the saucepan with the welsh rabbit in it which she had just made +for kitchen supper. + +Kenneth had leaned out too far over the edge of the boat, the boat had +suddenly decided to go the other way, and Kenneth had fallen into the +water. + +The first thing he felt was delicious coolness, the second that his +clothes had gone, and the next thing he noticed was that he was swimming +quite easily and comfortably under water, and that he had no trouble +with his breathing, such as people who tell you not to fall into water +seem to expect you to have. Also he could see quite well, which he had +never been able to do under water before. + +'I can't think,' he said to himself, 'why people make so much fuss about +your falling into the water. I sha'n't be in a hurry to get out. I'll +swim right round the moat while I'm about it.' + +[Illustration: There was a splash.] + +It was a very much longer swim than he expected, and as he swam he +noticed one or two things that struck him as rather odd. One was that he +couldn't see his hands. And another was that he couldn't feel his feet. +And he met some enormous fishes, like great cod or halibut, they seemed. +He had had no idea that there were fresh-water fish of that size. + +They towered above him more like men-o'-war than fish, and he was +rather glad to get past them. There were numbers of smaller fishes, some +about his own size, he thought. They seemed to be enjoying themselves +extremely, and he admired the clever quickness with which they darted +out of the way of the great hulking fish. + +And then suddenly he ran into something hard and very solid, and a voice +above him said crossly: + +'Now then, who are you a-shoving of? Can't you keep your eyes open, and +keep your nose out of gentlemen's shirt fronts?' + +'I beg your pardon,' said Kenneth, trying to rub his nose, and not being +able to. 'I didn't know people could talk under water,' he added very +much astonished to find that talking under water was as easy to him as +swimming there. + +'Fish can talk under water, of course,' said the voice, 'if they didn't, +they'd never talk at all: they certainly can't talk _out_ of it.' + +'But I'm not a fish,' said Kenneth, and felt himself grin at the absurd +idea. + +'Yes, you are,' said the voice, 'of course you're a fish,' and Kenneth, +with a shiver of certainty, felt that the voice spoke the truth. He +_was_ a fish. He must have become a fish at the very moment when he fell +into the water. That accounted for his not being able to see his hands +or feel his feet. Because of course his hands were fins and his feet +were a tail. + +'Who are you?' he asked the voice, and his own voice trembled. + +'I'm the Doyen Carp,' said the voice. 'You must be a very new fish +indeed or you'd know that. Come up, and let's have a look at you.' + +Kenneth came up and found himself face to face with an enormous fish who +had round staring eyes and a mouth that opened and shut continually. It +opened square like a kit-bag, and it shut with an extremely sour and +severe expression like that of an offended rhinoceros. + +'Yes,' said the Carp, 'you _are_ a new fish. Who put you in?' + +'I fell in,' said Kenneth, 'out of the boat, but I'm not a fish at all, +really I'm not. I'm a boy, but I don't suppose you'll believe me.' + +'Why shouldn't I believe you?' asked the Carp wagging a slow fin. +'Nobody tells untruths under water.' + +And if you come to think of it, no one ever does. + +'Tell me your true story,' said the Carp very lazily. And Kenneth told +it. + +'Ah! these humans!' said the Carp when he had done. 'Always in such a +hurry to think the worst of everybody!' He opened his mouth squarely and +shut it contemptuously. 'You're jolly lucky, you are. Not one boy in a +million turns into a fish, let me tell you.' + +'Do you mean that I've got to _go on_ being a fish?' Kenneth asked. + +'Of course you'll go on being a fish as long as you stop in the water. +You couldn't live here, you know, if you weren't.' + +'I might if I was an eel,' said Kenneth, and thought himself very +clever. + +'Well, _be_ an eel then,' said the Carp, and swam away sneering and +stately. Kenneth had to swim his hardest to catch up. + +'Then if I get out of the water, shall I be a boy again?' he asked +panting. + +'Of course, silly,' said the Carp, 'only you can't get out.' + +'Oh! can't I?' said Kenneth the fish, whisked his tail and swam off. He +went straight back to the amethyst ring, picked it up in his mouth, and +swam into the shallows at the edge of the moat. Then he tried to climb +up the slanting mud and on to the grassy bank, but the grass hurt his +fins horribly, and when he put his nose out of the water, the air +stifled him, and he was glad to slip back again. Then he tried to jump +out of the water, but he could only jump straight up into the air, so of +course he fell straight down again into the water. He began to be +afraid, and the thought that perhaps he was doomed to remain for ever a +fish was indeed a terrible one. He wanted to cry, but the tears would +not come out of his eyes. Perhaps there was no room for any more water +in the moat. + +The smaller fishes called to him in a friendly jolly way to come and +play with them--they were having a quite exciting game of +follow-my-leader among some enormous water-lily stalks that looked like +trunks of great trees. But Kenneth had no heart for games just then. + +He swam miserably round the moat looking for the old Carp, his only +acquaintance in this strange wet world. And at last, pushing through a +thick tangle of water weeds he found the great fish. + +'Now then,' said the Carp testily, 'haven't you any better manners than +to come tearing a gentleman's bed-curtains like that?' + +'I beg your pardon,' said Kenneth Fish, 'but I know how clever you are. +Do please help me.' + +'What do you want now?' said the Carp, and spoke a little less crossly. + +'I want to get out. I want to go and be a boy again.' + +'But you must have said you wanted to be a fish.' + +'I didn't mean it, if I did.' + +'You shouldn't say what you don't mean.' + +'I'll try not to again,' said Kenneth humbly, 'but how can I get out?' + +'There's only one way,' said the Carp rolling his vast body over in his +watery bed, 'and a jolly unpleasant way it is. Far better stay here and +be a good little fish. On the honour of a gentleman that's the best +thing you can do.' + +'I want to get out,' said Kenneth again. + +'Well then, the only way is ... you know we always teach the young fish +to look out for hooks so that they may avoid them. _You_ must look out +for a hook and _take it_. Let them catch you. On a hook.' + +The Carp shuddered and went on solemnly, 'Have you strength? Have you +patience? Have you high courage and determination? You will want them +all. Have you all these?' + +'I don't know what I've got,' said poor Kenneth, 'except that I've got a +tail and fins, and I don't know a hook when I see it. Won't you come +with me? Oh! dear Mr. Doyen Carp, _do_ come and show me a hook.' + +'It will hurt you,' said the Carp, 'very much indeed. You take a +gentleman's word for it.' + +'I know,' said Kenneth, 'you needn't rub it in.' + +The Carp rolled heavily out of his bed. + +'Come on then,' he said, 'I don't admire your taste, but if you _want_ a +hook, well, the gardener's boy is fishing in the cool of the evening. +Come on.' + +He led the way with a steady stately movement. + +'I want to take the ring with me,' said Kenneth, 'but I can't get hold +of it. Do you think you could put it on my fin with your snout?' + +'My what!' shouted the old Carp indignantly and stopped dead. + +'Your nose, I meant,' said Kenneth. 'Oh! please don't be angry. It would +be so kind of you if you would. Shove the ring on, I mean.' + +'That will hurt too,' said the Carp, and Kenneth thought he seemed not +altogether sorry that it should. + +It did hurt very much indeed. The ring was hard and heavy, and somehow +Kenneth's fin would not fold up small enough for the ring to slip over +it, and the Carp's big mouth was rather clumsy at the work. But at last +it was done. And then they set out in search of a hook for Kenneth to be +caught with. + +'I wish we could find one! I wish we could!' Kenneth Fish kept saying. + +'You're just looking for trouble,' said the Carp. 'Well, here you are!' + +Above them in the clear water hung a delicious-looking worm. Kenneth Boy +did not like worms any better than you do, but to Kenneth Fish that worm +looked most tempting and delightful. + +'Just wait a sec.,' he said, 'till I get that worm.' + +'You little silly,' said the Carp, '_that's the hook_. Take it.' + +'Wait a sec.,' said Kenneth again. + +His courage was beginning to ooze out of his fin tips, and a shiver ran +down him from gills to tail. + +'If you once begin to think about a hook you never take it,' said the +Carp. + +'_Never?_' said Kenneth 'Then ... oh! good-bye!' he cried desperately, +and snapped at the worm. A sharp pain ran through his head and he felt +himself drawn up into the air, that stifling, choking, husky, thick +stuff in which fish cannot breathe. And as he swung in the air the +dreadful thought came to him, 'Suppose I don't turn into a boy again? +Suppose I keep being a fish?' And then he wished he hadn't. But it was +too late to wish that. + +Everything grew quite dark, only inside his head there seemed to be a +light. There was a wild, rushing, buzzing noise, then something in his +head seemed to break and he knew no more. + + * * * * * + +When presently he knew things again, he was lying on something hard. Was +he Kenneth Fish lying on a stone at the bottom of the moat, or Kenneth +Boy lying somewhere out of the water? His breathing was all right, so he +wasn't a fish out of water or a boy under it. + +'He's coming to,' said a voice. The Carp's he thought it was. But next +moment he knew it to be the voice of his aunt, and he moved his hand and +felt grass in it. He opened his eyes and saw above him the soft gray of +the evening sky with a star or two. + +'Here's the ring, Aunt,' he said. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration: 'Oh, good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped at the +worm.] + +The cook had heard a splash and had run out just as the picnic party +arrived at the front door. They had all rushed to the moat, and the +uncle had pulled Kenneth out with the boat-hook. He had not been in the +water more than three minutes, they said. But Kenneth knew better. + +They carried him in, very wet he was, and laid him on the breakfast-room +sofa, where the aunt with hurried thoughtfulness had spread out the +uncle's mackintosh. + +'Get some rough towels, Jane,' said the aunt. 'Make haste, do.' + +'I got the ring,' said Kenneth. + +'Never mind about the ring, dear,' said the aunt, taking his boots off. + +'But you said I was a thief and a liar,' Kenneth said feebly, 'and it +was in the moat all the time.' + +'_Mother!_' it was Alison who shrieked. 'You didn't say that to him?' + +'Of course I didn't,' said the aunt impatiently. She thought she hadn't, +but then Kenneth thought she had. + +'It was _me_ took the ring,' said Alison, 'and I dropped it. I didn't +say I hadn't. I only said I'd rather not say. Oh Mother! poor Kenneth!' + +The aunt, without a word, carried Kenneth up to the bath-room and turned +on the hot-water tap. The uncle and Ethel followed. + +'Why didn't you own up, you sneak?' said Conrad to his sister with +withering scorn. + +'Sneak,' echoed the stout George. + +'I meant to. I was only getting steam up,' sobbed Alison. 'I didn't +know. Mother only told us she wasn't pleased with Ken, and so he wasn't +to go to the picnic. Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?' + +'Sneak!' said her brothers in chorus, and left her to her tears of shame +and remorse. + +It was Kenneth who next day begged every one to forgive and forget. And +as it was _his_ day--rather like a birthday, you know--when no one could +refuse him anything, all agreed that the whole affair should be buried +in oblivion. Every one was tremendously kind, the aunt more so than any +one. But Alison's eyes were still red when in the afternoon they all +went fishing once more. And before Kenneth's hook had been two minutes +in the water there was a bite, a very big fish, the uncle had to be +called from his study to land it. + +'Here's a magnificent fellow,' said the uncle. 'Not an ounce less than +two pounds, Ken. I'll have it stuffed for you.' + +And he held out the fish and Kenneth found himself face to face with the +Doyen Carp. There was no mistaking that mouth that opened like a +kit-bag, and shut in a sneer like a rhinoceros's. Its eye was most +reproachful. + +'Oh! no,' cried Kenneth, 'you helped me back and I'll help you back,' +and he caught the Carp from the hands of the uncle and flung it out in +the moat. + +'Your head's not quite right yet, my boy,' said the uncle kindly. +'Hadn't you better go in and lie down a bit?' + +But Alison understood, for he had told her the whole story. He had told +her that morning before breakfast while she was still in deep disgrace; +to cheer her up, he said. And, most disappointingly, it made her cry +more than ever. + +'Your poor little fins,' she had said, 'and having your feet tied up in +your tail. And it was all my fault.' + +'I liked it,' Kenneth had said with earnest politeness, 'it was a most +awful lark.' And he quite meant what he said. + + + + +XII + +THE MAGICIAN'S HEART + + +We all have our weaknesses. Mine is mulberries. Yours, perhaps, motor +cars. Professor Taykin's was christenings--royal christenings. He always +expected to be asked to the christening parties of all the little royal +babies, and of course he never was, because he was not a lord, or a +duke, or a seller of bacon and tea, or anything really high-class, but +merely a wicked magician, who by economy and strict attention to +customers had worked up a very good business of his own. He had not +always been wicked. He was born quite good, I believe, and his old +nurse, who had long since married a farmer and retired into the calm of +country life, always used to say that he was the duckiest little boy in +a plaid frock with the dearest little fat legs. But he had changed since +he was a boy, as a good many other people do--perhaps it was his trade. +I dare say you've noticed that cobblers are usually thin, and brewers +are generally fat, and magicians are almost always wicked. + +Well, his weakness (for christenings) grew stronger and stronger because +it was never indulged, and at last he 'took the bull into his own +hands,' as the Irish footman at the palace said, and went to a +christening without being asked. It was a very grand party given by the +King of the Fortunate Islands, and the little prince was christened +Fortunatus. No one took any notice of Professor Taykin. They were too +polite to turn him out, but they made him wish he'd never come. He felt +quite an outsider, as indeed he was, and this made him furious. So that +when all the bright, light, laughing, fairy godmothers were crowding +round the blue satin cradle, and giving gifts of beauty and strength and +goodness to the baby, the Magician suddenly did a very difficult charm +(in his head, like you do mental arithmetic), and said: + +'Young Forty may be all that, but _I_ say he shall be the stupidest +prince in the world,' and on that he vanished in a puff of red smoke +with a smell like the Fifth of November in a back garden on Streatham +Hill, and as he left no address the King of the Fortunate Islands +couldn't prosecute him for high treason. + +Taykin was very glad to think that he had made such a lot of people +unhappy--the whole Court was in tears when he left, including the +baby--and he looked in the papers for another royal christening, so that +he could go to that and make a lot more people miserable. And there was +one fixed for the very next Wednesday. The Magician went to that, too, +disguised as a wealthy. + +This time the baby was a girl. Taykin kept close to the pink velvet +cradle, and when all the nice qualities in the world had been given to +the Princess he suddenly said, 'Little Aura may be all that, but _I_ say +she shall be the ugliest princess in all the world.' + +And instantly she was. It was terrible. And she had been such a +beautiful baby too. Every one had been saying that she was the most +beautiful baby they had ever seen. This sort of thing is often said at +christenings. + +Having uglified the unfortunate little Princess the Magician did the +spell (in his mind, just as you do your spelling) to make himself +vanish, but to his horror there was no red smoke and no smell of +fireworks, and there he was, still, where he now very much wished not to +be. Because one of the fairies there had seen, just one second too late +to save the Princess, what he was up to, and had made a strong little +charm in a great hurry to prevent his vanishing. This Fairy was a White +Witch, and of course you know that White Magic is much stronger than +Black Magic, as well as more suited for drawing-room performances. So +there the Magician stood, 'looking like a thunder-struck pig,' as some +one unkindly said, and the dear White Witch bent down and kissed the +baby princess. + +'There!' she said, 'you can keep that kiss till you want it. When the +time comes you'll know what to do with it. The Magician can't vanish, +Sire. You'd better arrest him.' + +'Arrest that person,' said the King, pointing to Taykin. 'I suppose your +charms are of a permanent nature, madam.' + +'Quite,' said the Fairy, 'at least they never go till there's no longer +any use for them.' + +So the Magician was shut up in an enormously high tower, and allowed to +play with magic; but none of his spells could act outside the tower so +he was never able to pass the extra double guard that watched outside +night and day. The King would have liked to have the Magician executed +but the White Witch warned him that this would never do. + +'Don't you see,' she said, 'he's the only person who can make the +Princess beautiful again. And he'll do it some day. But don't you go +_asking_ him to do it. He'll never do anything to oblige you. He's that +sort of man.' + +So the years rolled on. The Magician stayed in the tower and did magic +and was very bored,--for it is dull to take white rabbits out of your +hat, and your hat out of nothing when there's no one to see you. + +Prince Fortunatus was such a stupid little boy that he got lost quite +early in the story, and went about the country saying his name was +James, which it wasn't. A baker's wife found him and adopted him, and +sold the diamond buttons of his little overcoat, for three hundred +pounds, and as she was a very honest woman she put two hundred away for +James to have when he grew up. + +The years rolled on. Aura continued to be hideous, and she was very +unhappy, till on her twentieth birthday her married cousin Belinda came +to see her. Now Belinda had been made ugly in her cradle too, so she +could sympathise as no one else could. + +'But _I_ got out of it all right, and so will you,' said Belinda. 'I'm +sure the first thing to do is to find a magician.' + +'Father banished them all twenty years ago,' said Aura behind her veil, +'all but the one who uglified me.' + +'Then I should go to _him_,' said beautiful Belinda. 'Dress up as a +beggar maid, and give him fifty pounds to do it. Not more, or he may +suspect that you're not a beggar maid. It will be great fun. I'd go with +you only I promised Bellamant faithfully that I'd be home to lunch.' And +off she went in her mother-of-pearl coach, leaving Aura to look through +the bound volumes of _The Perfect Lady_ in the palace library, to find +out the proper costume for a beggar maid. + +Now that very morning the Magician's old nurse had packed up a ham, and +some eggs, and some honey, and some apples, and a sweet bunch of +old-fashioned flowers, and borrowed the baker's boy to hold the horse +for her, and started off to see the Magician. It was forty years since +she'd seen him, but she loved him still, and now she thought she could +do him a good turn. She asked in the town for his address, and learned +that he lived in the Black Tower. + +'But you'd best be careful,' the townsfolk said, 'he's a spiteful chap.' + +'Bless you,' said the old nurse, 'he won't hurt me as nursed him when he +was a babe, in a plaid frock with the dearest little fat legs ever you +see.' + +So she got to the tower, and the guards let her through. Taykin was +almost pleased to see her--remember he had had no visitors for twenty +years--and he was quite pleased to see the ham and the honey. + +'But where did I put them _h_eggs?' said the nurse, 'and the apples--I +must have left them at home after all.' + +She had. But the Magician just waved his hand in the air, and there was +a basket of apples that hadn't been there before. The eggs he took out +of her bonnet, the folds of her shawl, and even from his own mouth, just +like a conjurer does. Only of course he was a real Magician. + +'Lor!' said she, 'it's like magic.' + +'It _is_ magic,' said he. 'That's my trade. It's quite a pleasure to +have an audience again. I've lived here alone for twenty years. It's +very lonely, especially of an evening.' + +'Can't you get out?' said the nurse. + +'No. King's orders must be respected, but it's a dog's life.' He +sniffed, made himself a magic handkerchief out of empty air, and wiped +his eyes. + +'Take an apprentice, my dear,' said the nurse. + +'And teach him my magic? Not me.' + +'Suppose you got one so stupid he _couldn't_ learn?' + +'That would be all right--but it's no use advertising for a stupid +person--you'd get no answers.' + +'You needn't advertise,' said the nurse; and she went out and brought in +James, who was really the Prince of the Fortunate Islands, and also the +baker's boy she had brought with her to hold the horse's head. + +'Now, James,' she said, 'you'd like to be apprenticed, wouldn't you?' + +'Yes,' said the poor stupid boy. + +'Then give the gentleman your money, James.' + +James did. + +'My last doubts vanish,' said the Magician, 'he _is_ stupid. Nurse, let +us celebrate the occasion with a little drop of something. Not before +the boy because of setting an example. James, wash up. Not here, silly; +in the back kitchen.' + +So James washed up, and as he was very clumsy he happened to break a +little bottle of essence of dreams that was on the shelf, and instantly +there floated up from the washing-up water the vision of a princess more +beautiful than the day--so beautiful that even James could not help +seeing how beautiful she was, and holding out his arms to her as she +came floating through the air above the kitchen sink. But when he held +out his arms she vanished. He sighed and washed up harder than ever. + +'I wish I wasn't so stupid,' he said, and then there was a knock at the +door. James wiped his hands and opened. Some one stood there in very +picturesque rags and tatters. 'Please,' said some one, who was of course +the Princess, 'is Professor Taykin at home?' + +'Walk in, please,' said James. + +'My snakes alive!' said Taykin, 'what a day we're having. Three +visitors in one morning. How kind of you to call. Won't you take a +chair?' + +'I hoped,' said the veiled Princess, 'that you'd give me something else +to take.' + +'A glass of wine,' said Taykin. 'You'll take a glass of wine?' + +'No, thank you,' said the beggar maid who was the Princess. + +'Then take ... take your veil off,' said the nurse, 'or you won't feel +the benefit of it when you go out.' + +'I can't,' said Aura, 'it wouldn't be safe.' + +'Too beautiful, eh?' said the Magician. 'Still--you're quite safe here.' + +'Can you do magic?' she abruptly asked. + +'A little,' said he ironically. + +'Well,' said she, 'it's like this. I'm so ugly no one can bear to look +at me. And I want to go as kitchenmaid to the palace. They want a cook +and a scullion and a kitchenmaid. I thought perhaps you'd give me +something to make me pretty. I'm only a poor beggar maid.... It would be +a great thing to me if....' + +'Go along with you,' said Taykin, very cross indeed. 'I never give to +beggars.' + +'Here's twopence,' whispered poor James, pressing it into her hand, +'it's all I've got left.' + +'Thank you,' she whispered back. 'You _are_ good.' + +And to the Magician she said: + +'I happen to have fifty pounds. I'll give it you for a new face.' + +'Done,' cried Taykin. 'Here's another stupid one!' He grabbed the money, +waved his wand, and then and there before the astonished eyes of the +nurse and the apprentice the ugly beggar maid became the loveliest +princess in the world. + +'Lor!' said the nurse. + +'My dream!' cried the apprentice. + +'Please,' said the Princess, 'can I have a looking-glass?' The +apprentice ran to unhook the one that hung over the kitchen sink, and +handed it to her. 'Oh,' she said, 'how _very_ pretty I am. How can I +thank you?' + +'Quite easily,' said the Magician, 'beggar maid as you are, I hereby +offer you my hand and heart.' + +He put his hand into his waistcoat and pulled out his heart. It was fat +and pink, and the Princess did not like the look of it. + +'Thank you very much,' said she, 'but I'd rather not.' + +'But I insist,' said Taykin. + +'But really, your offer....' + +'Most handsome, I'm sure,' said the nurse. + +'My affections are engaged,' said the Princess, looking down. 'I can't +marry you.' + +'Am I to take this as a refusal?' asked Taykin; and the Princess said +she feared that he was. + +'Very well, then,' he said, 'I shall see you home, and ask your father +about it. He'll not let you refuse an offer like this. Nurse, come and +tie my necktie.' + +So he went out, and the nurse with him. + +Then the Princess told the apprentice in a very great hurry who she was. + +'It would never do,' she said, 'for him to see me home. He'd find out +that I was the Princess, and he'd uglify me again in no time.' + +'He sha'n't see you home,' said James. 'I may be stupid but I'm strong +too.' + +'How brave you are,' said Aura admiringly, 'but I'd rather slip away +quietly, without any fuss. Can't you undo the patent lock of that door?' +The apprentice tried but he was too stupid, and the Princess was not +strong enough. + +'I'm sorry,' said the apprentice who was a Prince. 'I can't undo the +door, but when _he_ does I'll hold him and you can get away. I dreamed +of you this morning,' he added. + +'I dreamed of you too,' said she, 'but you were different.' + +'Perhaps,' said poor James sadly, 'the person you dreamed about wasn't +stupid, and I am.' + +'Are you _really_?' cried the Princess. 'I _am_ so glad!' + +'That's rather unkind, isn't it?' said he. + +'No; because if _that's_ all that makes you different from the man I +dreamed about I can soon make _that_ all right.' + +And with that she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. And at +her kiss his stupidness passed away like a cloud, and he became as +clever as any one need be; and besides knowing all the ordinary lessons +he would have learned if he had stayed at home in his palace, he knew +who he was, and where he was, and why, and he knew all the geography of +his father's kingdom, and the exports and imports and the condition of +politics. And he knew also that the Princess loved him. + +So he caught her in his arms and kissed her, and they were very happy, +and told each other over and over again what a beautiful world it was, +and how wonderful it was that they should have found each other, seeing +that the world is not only beautiful but rather large. + +'That first one was a magic kiss, you know,' said she. 'My fairy +godmother gave it to me, and I've been keeping it all these years for +you. You must get away from here, and come to the palace. Oh, you'll +manage it--you're clever now.' + +'Yes,' he said, 'I _am_ clever now. I can undo the lock for you. Go, my +dear, go before he comes back.' + +So the Princess went. And only just in time; for as she went out of one +door Taykin came in at the other. + +He was furious to find her gone; and I should not like to write down the +things he said to his apprentice when he found that James had been so +stupid as to open the door for her. They were not polite things at all. + +He tried to follow her. But the Princess had warned the guards, and he +could not get out. + +'Oh,' he cried, 'if only my old magic would work outside this tower. I'd +soon be even with her.' + +And then in a strange, confused, yet quite sure way, he felt that the +spell that held him, the White Witch's spell, was dissolved. + +'To the palace!' he cried; and rushing to the cauldron that hung over +the fire he leaped into it, leaped out in the form of a red lion, and +disappeared. + +Without a moment's hesitation the Prince, who was his apprentice, +followed him, calling out the same words and leaping into the same +cauldron, while the poor nurse screamed and wrung her hands. As he +touched the liquor in the cauldron he felt that he was not quite +himself. He was, in fact, a green dragon. He felt himself vanish--a most +uncomfortable sensation--and reappeared, with a suddenness that took his +breath away, in his own form and at the back door of the palace. + +The time had been short, but already the Magician had succeeded in +obtaining an engagement as palace cook. How he did it without references +I don't know. Perhaps he made the references by magic as he had made the +eggs, and the apples, and the handkerchief. + +Taykin's astonishment and annoyance at being followed by his faithful +apprentice were soon soothed, for he saw that a stupid scullion would be +of great use. Of course he had no idea that James had been made clever +by a kiss. + +'But how are you going to cook?' asked the apprentice. 'You don't know +how!' + +'I shall cook,' said Taykin, 'as I do everything else--by magic.' And he +did. I wish I had time to tell you how he turned out a hot dinner of +seventeen courses from totally empty saucepans, how James looked in a +cupboard for spices and found it empty, and how next moment the nurse +walked out of it. The Magician had been so long alone that he seemed to +revel in the luxury of showing off to some one, and he leaped about from +one cupboard to another, produced cats and cockatoos out of empty jars, +and made mice and rabbits disappear and reappear till James's head was +in a whirl, for all his cleverness; and the nurse, as she washed up, +wept tears of pure joy at her boy's wonderful skill. + +'All this excitement's bad for my heart, though,' Taykin said at last, +and pulling his heart out of his chest, he put it on a shelf, and as he +did so his magic note-book fell from his breast and the apprentice +picked it up. Taykin did not see him do it; he was busy making the +kitchen lamp fly about the room like a pigeon. + +It was just then that the Princess came in, looking more lovely than +ever in a simple little morning frock of white chiffon and diamonds. + +'The beggar maid,' said Taykin, 'looking like a princess! I'll marry her +just the same.' + +'I've come to give the orders for dinner,' she said; and then she saw +who it was, and gave one little cry and stood still, trembling. + +'To order the dinner,' said the nurse. 'Then you're----' + +'Yes,' said Aura, 'I'm the Princess.' + +'You're the Princess,' said the Magician. 'Then I'll marry you all the +more. And if you say no I'll uglify you as the word leaves your lips. +Oh, yes--you think I've just been amusing myself over my cooking--but +I've really been brewing the strongest spell in the world. Marry me--or +drink----' + +The Princess shuddered at these dreadful words. + +'Drink, or marry me,' said the Magician. 'If you marry me you shall be +beautiful for ever.' + +'Ah,' said the nurse, 'he's a match even for a Princess.' + +'I'll tell papa,' said the Princess, sobbing. + +'No, you won't,' said Taykin. 'Your father will never know. If you won't +marry me you shall drink this and become my scullery maid--my hideous +scullery maid--and wash up for ever in the lonely tower.' + +He caught her by the wrist. + +'Stop,' cried the apprentice, who was a Prince. + +'Stop? _Me?_ Nonsense! Pooh!' said the Magician. + +'Stop, I say!' said James, who was Fortunatus. '_I've got your heart!_' +He had--and he held it up in one hand, and in the other a cooking knife. + +'One step nearer that lady,' said he, 'and in goes the knife.' + +The Magician positively skipped in his agony and terror. + +'I say, look out!' he cried. 'Be careful what you're doing. Accidents +happen so easily! Suppose your foot slipped! Then no apologies would +meet the case. That's my heart you've got there. My life's bound up in +it.' + +'I know. That's often the case with people's hearts,' said Fortunatus. +'We've got you, my dear sir, on toast. My Princess, might I trouble you +to call the guards.' + +The Magician did not dare to resist, so the guards arrested him. The +nurse, though in floods of tears, managed to serve up a very good plain +dinner, and after dinner the Magician was brought before the King. + +Now the King, as soon as he had seen that his daughter had been made so +beautiful, had caused a large number of princes to be fetched by +telephone. He was anxious to get her married at once in case she turned +ugly again. So before he could do justice to the Magician he had to +settle which of the princes was to marry the Princess. He had chosen the +Prince of the Diamond Mountains, a very nice steady young man with a +good income. But when he suggested the match to the Princess she +declined it, and the Magician, who was standing at the foot of the +throne steps loaded with chains, clattered forward and said: + +'Your Majesty, will you spare my life if I tell you something you don't +know?' + +The King, who was a very inquisitive man, said 'Yes.' + +'Then know,' said Taykin, 'that the Princess won't marry _your_ choice, +because she's made one of her own--my apprentice.' + +The Princess meant to have told her father this when she had got him +alone and in a good temper. But now he was in a bad temper, and in full +audience. + +The apprentice was dragged in, and all the Princess's agonized pleadings +only got this out of the King-- + +'All right. I won't hang him. He shall be best man at your wedding.' + +Then the King took his daughter's hand and set her in the middle of the +hall, and set the Prince of the Diamond Mountains on her right and the +apprentice on her left. Then he said: + +'I will spare the life of this aspiring youth on your left if you'll +promise never to speak to him again, and if you'll promise to marry the +gentleman on your right before tea this afternoon.' + +The wretched Princess looked at her lover, and his lips formed the word +'Promise.' + +So she said: 'I promise never to speak to the gentleman on my left and +to marry the gentleman on my right before tea to-day,' and held out her +hand to the Prince of the Diamond Mountains. + +Then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the Prince of the Diamond +Mountains was on her left, and her hand was held by her own Prince, who +stood at her right hand. And yet nobody seemed to have moved. It was the +purest and most high-class magic. + +'Dished,' cried the King, 'absolutely dished!' + +'A mere trifle,' said the apprentice modestly. 'I've got Taykin's magic +recipe book, as well as his heart.' + +'Well, we must make the best of it, I suppose,' said the King crossly. +'Bless you, my children.' + +He was less cross when it was explained to him that the apprentice was +really the Prince of the Fortunate Islands, and a much better match than +the Prince of the Diamond Mountains, and he was quite in a good temper +by the time the nurse threw herself in front of the throne and begged +the King to let the Magician off altogether--chiefly on the ground that +when he was a baby he was the dearest little duck that ever was, in the +prettiest plaid frock, with the loveliest fat legs. + +The King, moved by these arguments, said: + +'I'll spare him if he'll promise to be good.' + +'You will, ducky, won't you?' said the nurse, crying. + +'No,' said the Magician, 'I won't; and what's more, I can't.' + +The Princess, who was now so happy that she wanted every one else to be +happy too, begged her lover to make Taykin good 'by magic.' + +'Alas, my dearest Lady,' said the Prince, 'no one can be made good by +magic. I could take the badness out of him--there's an excellent recipe +in this note-book--but if I did that there'd be so very little left.' + +'Every little helps,' said the nurse wildly. + +Prince Fortunatus, who was James, who was the apprentice, studied the +book for a few moments, and then said a few words in a language no one +present had ever heard before. + +And as he spoke the wicked Magician began to tremble and shrink. + +'Oh, my boy--be good! Promise you'll be good,' cried the nurse, still +in tears. + +The Magician seemed to be shrinking inside his clothes. He grew smaller +and smaller. The nurse caught him in her arms, and still he grew less +and less, till she seemed to be holding nothing but a bundle of clothes. +Then with a cry of love and triumph she tore the Magician's clothes away +and held up a chubby baby boy, with the very plaid frock and fat legs +she had so often and so lovingly described. + +'I said there wouldn't be much of him when the badness was out,' said +the Prince Fortunatus. + +'I will be good; oh, I will,' said the baby boy that had been the +Magician. + +'I'll see to that,' said the nurse. And so the story ends with love and +a wedding, and showers of white roses. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magic World, by Edith Nesbit + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC WORLD *** + +***** This file should be named 27903.txt or 27903.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/9/0/27903/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Wilson and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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