diff options
Diffstat (limited to '28263-h/28263-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 28263-h/28263-h.htm | 7700 |
1 files changed, 7700 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/28263-h/28263-h.htm b/28263-h/28263-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd64e76 --- /dev/null +++ b/28263-h/28263-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7700 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Soap-Bubble Stories, by Fanny Barry + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; } + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both;} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.u {text-decoration: underline;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + width: auto} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left;} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 0em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; } + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; } + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Soap-Bubble Stories, by Fanny Barry + +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: Soap-Bubble Stories + For Children + +Author: Fanny Barry + +Release Date: March 6, 2009 [EBook #28263] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOAP-BUBBLE STORIES *** + + + + +Produced by Marcia Brooks, Woodie4, David Edwards and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p>Transcribers notes:<br /> +Alternative spelling and hyphenation have been retained as they appear +in the original publication. Changes have been made as follows:<br /><br /> + +Page 125. on the top of a dias <i>changed to</i> on the top of a dais<br /><br /> + +Page 131. tobogganned down a steep <i>changed to</i> tobogganed down a steep<br /><br /></p> + + +<h2>SOAP-BUBBLE STORIES</h2> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 277px;"> +<img src="images/image001.png" width="277" height="400" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>Soap-Bubble Stories.</h1> + +<h2>FOR CHILDREN.</h2> + +<h5>BY</h5> + +<h2><i>FANNY BARRY</i>,</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Author of "The Fox Family," "The Obstinate Elm Leaf," "The Bears +of Wundermerk," etc.</span></h4> + +<h3>New York:</h3> + +<h3>JAMES POTT & CO., 14 & 16, ASTOR PLACE.</h3> + +<h4>1892.<br /></h4> + +<h5>To</h5> + +<h4>VERA, ELSIE,<br /> +OSKAR, OLGA, ERIK,<br /> +NEVA, JESSIE,<br /> +LEO, DOROTHY, CLAUDE</h4> + +<h5>AND</h5> + +<h4>HERBERT.<br /></h4> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image013a.png" width="400" height="81" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>It was twilight and the children tired of playing gathered +round the fire.</p> + +<p>Outside, the snow fell softly, softly; and the bare trees shook +their branches in the keen air. The pleasant glow of the blazing +logs lighted up the circle of happy faces, and peopled the distant +corners with elfin shadows.</p> + +<p>All the afternoon the children, pipe in hand, with soap suds +before them, had been blowing airy bubbles that caught the gleams +of a hundred flying rainbows—but now in the fading daylight, the +pipes were put aside, and they threw themselves down on the fur rug, +and looked with thoughtful eyes into the caverns of the fire.</p> + +<p>"What can we do now?" they cried, "Won't <i>you</i> make us +some bubbles?"</p> + +<p>And someone sitting in the shadow, who had watched and +admired their handiwork; whipped up some white froth in a fairy +basin, and taking a pipe, she blew them some bubbles.</p> + +<p>Not so beautiful as the children's own, with their pure reflections +of the light and sunshine—but the best she could fashion with +the materials she had at hand; for the only soap she could find +was Imagination, and her pipe was a humble black pen.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/image013b.png" width="400" height="72" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>Contents.</h3> + + + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE TROLL IN THE CHURCH FOUNTAIN</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE IMP IN THE CHINTZ CURTAIN</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>HEARTSEASE</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>A STORY OF SIENA</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE STONE-MAIDEN</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE GRASS OF PARNASSUS</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE HEDGEHOGS' COFFEE PARTY</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>UNCLE VOLODIA</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE ANGEL AND THE LILIES</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE ALPEN-ECHO</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_100">100</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE SCROLL IN THE MARKET PLACE</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>A SCRAP OF ETRUSCAN POTTERY</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE GOATS ON THE GLACIER</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE GREAT LADY'S CHIEF-MOURNER</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>DAME FOSSIE'S CHINA DOG</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_142">142</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>PRINCESS SIDIGUNDA'S GOLDEN SHOES</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>THE BADGER'S SCHOOL</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'>BOBBIE'S TWO SHILLINGS</td> +<td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="The_Troll_in_the_Church_Fountain" id="The_Troll_in_the_Church_Fountain"></a>The Troll in the Church Fountain.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<p>It was a village of fountains. They poured from the +sides of houses, bubbled up at street corners, +sprang from stone troughs by the roadside, and +one even gushed from the very walls of the old Church itself, +and fell with a monotonous tinkle into a carved stone basin +beneath.</p> + +<p>The old Church stood on a high plateau overlooking the +lake. It jutted out so far, on its great rock, that it seemed +to overhang the precipice; and as the neighbours walked +upon the terrace on Sundays, and enjoyed the shade of the +row of plane trees, they could look down over the low walls +of the Churchyard almost into the chimneys of the wooden +houses clustering below.</p> + +<p>There were wide stone seats on the terrace, grey and +worn by the weather, and by the generations of children +who had played round them; and here the mothers and +grandmothers, with their distaffs in their hands, loved to +collect on summer evenings.</p> + +<p>Often Terli had seen them from his home by the mountain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +torrent, for he was so high up, he looked down upon the +whole village; and he had often longed to join them and +hear what they were saying; but as he was nothing but a +River-Troll, he was not able to venture within sight or sound +of the water of the holy Church Fountain.</p> + +<p>Anywhere else he was free to roam; teazing the children, +worrying the women as they washed their clothes at the +open stone basins, even putting his lean fingers into the +fountain spout to stop the water, while the people remained +staring open-mouthed, or ran off to fetch a neighbour to +find out what was the matter.</p> + +<p>This was all very pleasant to Terli, and at night he would +hurry back to his relations in their cave under the stones +of the torrent, and enjoy a good laugh at the day's +adventures.</p> + +<p>There was only one thing that worried him. Several +of the cleverest old women of the village, who had on +several occasions seen Terli dancing about the country, +agreed to hang a little pot of the Church water in the doors +of their houses; and once or twice the Troll, on attempting +to enter in order to teaze the inhabitants, had suddenly +caught sight of the water, and rushed away with a scream +of rage and disappointment.</p> + +<p>"Never River-Troll can stand the sight of the Church +Fountain!" said the old women, and rubbed their hands +gleefully.</p> + +<p>In the early summer there was to be a great wedding at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +the old Church, the Bridegroom the son of a rich farmer, +the Bride one of the young girls of the village; and Terli, +who had known them both from childhood, determined that +for once in his life he would enter the unknown region of +the Church Terrace.</p> + +<p>"Elena has often annoyed me in the past," laughed +Terli, "so it is only fair I should try and annoy her in the +future"—and he sat down cross-legged at the bottom of a +water trough to arrange his plans quietly in seclusion.</p> + +<p>An old horse came by, dragging a creaking waggon, and +the driver stopped to allow the animal to drink.</p> + +<p>The Troll raised himself leisurely, and as the horse put in +his head, Terli seized it in both hands, and hung on so firmly +that it was impossible for the poor creature to get away.</p> + +<p>"Let go!" said the horse, angrily—for he understood +the Troll language. "Let me go! What are you doing?"</p> + +<p>"I shan't let you go till you make me a promise. You +get the Wood-Troll to cork up the Church Fountain at +daybreak on Friday morning, and I'll let you drink as much +as you like now, and go without hindrance afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I shan't promise," said the horse, crossly. "I don't +see why I should."</p> + +<p>"Well, I shall hang on till you <i>do</i>," said the Troll with +a disagreeable laugh; and he gripped the old horse more +tightly than ever.</p> + +<p>"Oh, leave off! I'm being suffocated. I'll promise anything," +cried the horse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 482px;"> +<img src="images/image020.png" width="482" height="400" alt=""'LET GO!' SAID THE HORSE, +ANGRILY. 'LET ME GO! WHAT ARE +YOU DOING?'"" title=""'LET GO!' SAID THE HORSE, +ANGRILY. 'LET ME GO! WHAT ARE +YOU DOING?'"" /> +<span class="caption">"'LET GO!' SAID THE HORSE, +ANGRILY. 'LET ME GO! WHAT ARE +YOU DOING?'"</span> +</div> + +<p>Terli withdrew his hands immediately, sinking down to +the bottom of the trough with a chuckle that made the +water bubble furiously; and the old horse, without waiting +to drink, trotted off with an activity that surprised his master.</p> + +<p>"Remember your promise!" called the Troll, putting his +head suddenly over the edge of the trough, and pointing a +thin finger. "On Friday at daybreak the Church Fountain +stopped, or you don't drink comfortably for a twelve-month!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<p>Early on Friday morning the bridal procession started +gaily, and all the village folks were so occupied they never +noticed that the Church Fountain had ceased to bubble.</p> + +<p>The bells rang out; while the Troll, hidden in the branches +of a tree close to the entrance door, glanced first at the procession +and then at a wedge of wood sticking out of the +stone mouth of the Fountain, and he laughed elfishly.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! The old horse has kept his promise. This <i>is</i> +seeing the world," he whispered triumphantly.</p> + +<p>The marriage ceremony was soon over, and as the newly-wedded +pair stepped out upon the terrace again, Terli +drew from his pocket a little jar of water, and <i>splash!</i> +fell some drops from it right in the eyes of the Bride and +Bridegroom.</p> + +<p>"It is beginning to rain! I saw the clouds gathering! +Run, run, for the nearest shelter!" cried everyone confusedly, +and off dashed the crowd, panting and breathless.</p> + +<p>Now it was an unfortunate thing, that after the wedding +everything in the new household seemed to go wrong.</p> + +<p>"The young people have had their heads turned," +whispered the old women, and the poor Bride looked pale +and disconsolate.</p> + +<p>"It is a wretched house to have married into," she said +to her mother. "Nothing but these poor boards for furniture, +no good fields or garden—all so dull and disagreeable;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +and then my husband—he seems always discontented. I +think I was happier at home;" and she tapped her foot +impatiently.</p> + +<p>Her mother argued and remonstrated, and at last began +to weep bitterly.</p> + +<p>"You must be bewitched, Elena, to complain like this! +You have everything a reasonable girl can wish for."</p> + +<p>"Everything? Why I have <i>nothing</i>!" cried Elena +angrily, and ran from the room; leaving Terli, who was +hiding in a water-bucket, to stamp his feet with delight.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! it is going on excellently," he shouted in his +little cracked voice. "Once let them have the water from +the Trolls' well in their eyes, they'll never be contented +again!" and he upset the bucket in which he was standing +over the feet of the Bride's mother, who had to run home +hastily to change her wet shoes.</p> + +<p>"This is the work of the River-Trolls, I believe," she +said to herself, as she held up her soaked skirts carefully. +"I'll find out all about it on St. John's Eve, if I can't do +so before"—and she nodded angrily towards the mountain +torrent.</p> + +<p>Days passed, and the sad temper of the newly-married +couple did not improve.</p> + +<p>They scarcely attempted to speak to each other, and +groaned so much over the hardships of their life, that all +their friends became tired of trying to comfort them.</p> + +<p>"They're bewitched," said the Bride's mother, "bewitched,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +and nothing else. But wait till St. John's Eve, and you'll +see I shall cure them."</p> + +<p>She spoke mysteriously, but as she was a sensible woman +everyone believed her.</p> + +<p>On St. John's Eve—as I daresay you know—all animals +have the power of talking together like human beings, and +punctually as the clock struck twelve the Bride's mother put +on her thick shoes, and taking the stable lantern from its +nail, she went off to the stable, refusing to allow either her +husband or son to accompany her.</p> + +<p>As she entered the door of the outhouse, she heard the +oxen already whispering to each other, and the old horse, +with his head over the division, addressing friendly remarks +to a family of goats close by.</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything of Terli or the Wood-Trolls?" +enquired the old woman, looking at the oxen severely.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no!" and they shook their heads slowly.</p> + +<p>The Bride's mother then repeated her question to the goat +family, who denied any knowledge of the Trolls with a series +of terrified bleats.</p> + +<p>"There is only <i>you</i>, then," said the Bride's mother to the +old horse. "You have served us faithfully, and we have +been kind masters to you. Tell me: do you know anything +of Terli or the Wood-Trolls?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said the old horse with dignity. "I can tell you +more than anyone else dreams of;" and he stepped from +his stall with an air of the greatest importance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>The old woman sat down upon an upturned stable-bucket, +and prepared to listen.</p> + +<p>"Just before the wedding," commenced the horse, "I +was passing through the village with old master, when we +stopped to drink. No sooner had I got my nose into the +Fountain than, <i>heuw!</i> Terli had hold of me, and not an +inch would he loosen his grip till I promised to let him see +the wedding by getting the Wood-Trolls to stop up the +Church Fountain. What was I to do? I was forced to +agree, and from that promise comes all the misery of +the Bride and Bridegroom."</p> + +<p>The old horse then went on to explain what Terli had +done on the wedding day, while the Bride's mother jumped +up from the water-bucket with a cry of delight.</p> + +<p>"All will be well now. You have done us the greatest +possible service, and shall live in leisure for the rest of your +life," she said; and ran out of the stables towards the house, +before the astonished animals could recover themselves.</p> + +<p>"I've found it all out," she cried to her husband. "Now +all we have to do is to catch Terli."</p> + +<p>"Not so easy, wife," said the Bride's father, but the old +woman smiled in a mysterious manner.</p> + +<p>"Leave it to me, husband, <i>I</i> shall manage it. Our children +will be happy again to-morrow, you will see."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> +<p>The next day at sunrise, the Bride's mother crept off +secretly to the Church Fountain and brought back a +large pailful of the water. This she emptied into a wash-tub +and covered with some green pine branches, and on +the top of all she placed a wooden bowl half filled with +butter-milk.</p> + +<p>"Terli likes it so much—he will do anything for butter-milk," +she said to herself, as she propped open the kitchen +door, and went off with a light heart to see her daughter.</p> + +<p>She carried with her a jug of the Church water, and when +she arrived at the farm house, she gave it to her daughter +and son-in-law, and begged them to bathe their eyes with it +immediately.</p> + +<p>With much grumbling they obeyed her; but what a change +occurred directly they had done so!</p> + +<p>The day, which had seemed cloudy and threatening rain, +now appeared bright and hopeful. The Bride ran over her +new house with exclamations of delight at all the comfortable +arrangements, and the Bridegroom declared he was a lucky +man to have married a good wife, and have a farm that +anyone might reasonably be proud of!</p> + +<p>"How could we ever have troubled over anything?" said +the young Bride, "I can't understand it! We are young, +and we are happy."</p> + +<p>The old woman smiled wisely. "It was only the Troll's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +well-water," she said, and went home as fast as her feet +would carry her.</p> + +<p>As she neared her own door, she heard sounds of splashing +and screaming in a shrill piping voice; and on entering, saw +Terli struggling violently in the tub of Church water, the +little bowl of butter-milk lying spilt upon the floor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Take me out! Take me out! It gives me the toothache!" +wailed the Troll, but the Bride's mother was a wise woman, +and determined that now she had caught their tormentor she +would keep him safely.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 382px;"> +<img src="images/image026.png" width="382" height="400" alt=""TAKE ME OUT! TAKE ME OUT! IT GIVES ME THE +TOOTH-ACHE!"" title=""TAKE ME OUT! TAKE ME OUT! IT GIVES ME THE +TOOTH-ACHE!"" /> +<span class="caption">"TAKE ME OUT! TAKE ME OUT! IT GIVES ME THE +TOOTH-ACHE!"</span> +</div> + +<p>"I've got the toothache in every joint!" shouted Terli. +"Let me out, and I'll <i>never</i> tease you any more."</p> + +<p>"It serves you very well right," said the old woman, and +she poured the contents of the tub—including Terli—into a +large bucket, and carried it off in triumph to the Church +Fountain.</p> + +<p>Here she emptied the bucket into the carved stone basin, +and left Terli kicking and screaming, while she went home +to the farmhouse to breakfast.</p> + +<p>"That's a good morning's work, wife; if you never do +another:" said the Bride's father, who had come into the +kitchen just as Terli upset the bowl of butter-milk, and fell +through the pine branches headlong into the tub beneath. +"We shall live in peace and quietness now, for Terli was +the most mischievous of the whole of the Troll-folk."</p> + +<p>The words of the Bride's father proved to be quite true, +for after the capture of the Water-Troll the village enjoyed +many years of quietness and contentment.</p> + +<p>As to Terli, he lived in great unhappiness in the Church +Fountain; enduring a terrible series of tooth-aches, but +unable to escape from the magic power of the water.</p> + +<p>At the end of that time, however, a falling tree split the +sides of the carved stone basin into fragments, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +Troll, escaping with the water which flowed out, darted from +the Churchyard and safely reached his old home in the bed +of the mountain torrent.</p> + +<p>"The Church Fountain is broken, and Terli has escaped," +said the good folks the next morning—and the old people +shook their heads gravely, in alarm—but I suppose Terli had +had a good lesson, for he never troubled the village any more.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 140px;"> +<img src="images/image028.png" width="140" height="200" alt="Troll" title="Troll" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="The_Imp_in_the_Chintz_Curtain" id="The_Imp_in_the_Chintz_Curtain"></a>The Imp in the Chintz Curtain.</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>He was a wicked-looking Imp, and he lived in a bed +curtain.</p> + +<p>No one knew he was in the house, not even the +master and mistress. The little girl who slept in the chintz-curtained +bed was the only person who knew of his existence, +and she never mentioned him, even to her old nurse.</p> + +<p>She had made his acquaintance one Christmas Eve, as +she lay awake, trying to keep her tired eyes open long +enough to see Santa Klaus come down the chimney. The +Imp sprang into view with a <i>cr-r-r-ick, cr-r-r-ack</i> of falling +wood in the great fireplace, and there he stood bowing to +Marianne from the left-hand corner of the chintz curtain.</p> + +<p>A green leaf formed his hat, some straggling branches his +feet; his thin body was a single rose-stem, and his red face +a crumpled rose-bud.</p> + +<p>A flaw in the printing of the chintz curtain had given him +life—a life distinct from that of the other rose leaves.</p> + +<p>"You're lying awake very late to-night—what's that for?" +he enquired, shaking the leaf he wore upon his head, and +looking at Marianne searchingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why, don't you see I'm waiting for Santa Klaus?" +replied Marianne. "I've always missed him before, but +this time <i>nothing</i> shall make me go to sleep!" She sat up +in bed and opened her eyes as widely as possible.</p> + +<p>"He has generally been here before this," said the Imp. +"I can remember your great-aunt sleeping in this very bed +and being in just the same fuss. I got down and danced +about all night, and she thought I was earwigs."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> should never think you were an earwig—you're too +pink and green—but don't talk, I can hear something +buzzing."</p> + +<p>"Santa Klaus doesn't buzz," said the Chintz Imp. "He +comes down <i>flop!</i> Once in your aunt's time, I knew him +nearly stick in the chimney. He had too many things in his +sack. You should have heard how he struggled, it was like +thunder! Everyone said how high the wind was."</p> + +<p>"I hope he won't do it to-night," said Marianne, "I could +never pull him down by myself!"</p> + +<p>As she spoke the room seemed to be violently shaken, and +there was a sound of falling plaster, followed by some loud +kicks.</p> + +<p>"Whew—w!" cried the Chintz Imp, "he's done it again!"</p> + +<p>Marianne started up in great excitement. She sprang +from her bed, and ran towards the old-fashioned fireplace.</p> + +<p>Nothing was at first to be seen; but as the fire had died +down to a few hot embers, Marianne could, by craning her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +head forwards, look right up into the misty darkness of the +great chimney.</p> + +<p>There, to her astonishment, she saw a pair of large brown-covered +feet hanging down helplessly; while a deep voice +from above cried—</p> + +<p>"Get me out of this, or I shall break down the chimney!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what <i>am</i> I to do?" exclaimed Marianne anxiously, +"I'm not tall enough to reach you! Shall I fetch my Aunt +Olga, or would you prefer my old nurse?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said the voice, with decision. "I have +never been seen by a grown-up person, and I don't intend to +begin now. Either you must get me down by yourself, or I +shall manage to work out at the top again—and then I'm +sorry to say you'll have to go without your presents."</p> + +<p>Marianne sat down on the hearthrug in a state of anxious +consideration. There waved the great brown feet, and two +or three steps would land them safely on the hearthrug, but +how could it possibly be managed?</p> + +<p>The Chintz Imp curled up his green legs and sat down +beside her, his bright red eyes blinking thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"We must hang on to him," he said at last; "or what do +you say to my trying to collect a dozen or so children, to +pull?"</p> + +<p>"Why they'd all be in bed hours ago," said Marianne. +"Besides, their parents would never let them come, +and Uncle Max would want to know whatever we were +doing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes. I see <i>that</i> idea is no good. Have you such a thing +as a pocket-knife?" enquired the Chintz Imp.</p> + +<p>"A beauty," said Marianne; "four blades, a button-hook, +and a corkscrew."</p> + +<p>"Ah, the corkscrew might be of some use if we could +draw him out with it; but he might object. However, I'll +try what I can do with the knife."</p> + +<p>"You won't cut him! You'll have to be very careful!"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said the Chintz Imp. "Do you think I am +as old as your great-aunt, without knowing much more than +<i>you</i> do! Bring me the knife. I'm going to swarm up the +chimney and scratch away the mortar. Leave it entirely to +me, and Santa Klaus will be down here in an hour or two!"</p> + +<p>Marianne ran off to her little play box, and returned +with the knife. It was almost as large as the Chintz Imp, +but he possessed so much wiry strength in his thin arms +and backbone that he was able to clamber up the chimney +without difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Are you all right?" cried Marianne, standing with her +bare feet on the edge of the stone fender, and holding up the +night-light as high as she could without singeing Santa +Klaus.</p> + +<p>"Getting up," replied the Chintz Imp, "but he's in very +tight!"</p> + +<p>"Is it his sack that's stuck?" enquired Marianne, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! It's only my sack!" cried the deep voice;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +"you get that loose, and I shall drop into the room like a +fairy."</p> + +<p>Marianne strained her eyes up the chimney, but could see +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Take care! Here's a lot of plaster falling!"</p> + +<p>The warning was just in time, for, as Marianne's head +disappeared, a handful of cement fell rattling into the fireplace, +just escaping her bare feet as she jumped on to the +hearthrug.</p> + +<p>"The knife does beautifully," cried the voice of the Chintz +Imp. "I think when I've loosened this paint box, he'll fall +down immediately."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do be careful!" said Marianne. "A paint box is +what I've been longing for! Don't chip it if you can possibly +help it!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I shan't," replied the Chintz Imp. "If he +wouldn't kick so much, I should get him out in half the time."</p> + +<p>"I'm not kicking," cried Santa Klaus's voice indignantly. +"I've been as still as a rock, even with that horrid penknife +close to my ear the whole time."</p> + +<p>"Have a little patience," said the Chintz Imp soothingly. +"I promise not to hurt you."</p> + +<p>Marianne began to feel very cold. The excitement, so far, +had buoyed her up; but now the monotonous <i>chip, chipping</i> +of the Chintz Imp continued so long that she jumped into +her chintz-curtained bed, determined to stay there until +something new and interesting called her up again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can't do any good, so I may as well be comfortable," +she thought, and pulled the eider-down quilt up to her chin +luxuriously.</p> + +<p>"I <i>hope</i> he'll get out! It <i>would</i> be a disappointment to +have that paint-box taken away again. Perhaps it would be +given to someone who wouldn't care for it. I wonder if it's +tin, with moist colours? I must ask Uncle Max to have +that chimney made wider——" At this point Marianne's +eyes closed and she fell asleep.</p> + +<p>She was awakened by a loud <i>thump!</i> that seemed to shake +the very bed in which she was lying; and as she sprang up +in a state of great excitement, she saw Santa Klaus picking +himself up from the hearthrug on which he had apparently +fallen with great violence.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" cried Marianne, "I hope you are not hurt? +How careless of the Chintz Imp to throw you down like that!"</p> + +<p>"It was no one's fault but my own," said Santa Klaus as +he dusted the remains of soot and plaster off his brown cloak. +"I should have remembered my experience with your great-aunt, +but I knew how much you wanted that paint-box," +and he slipped into Marianne's stocking a japanned box +with a whole sheaf of paint brushes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, Santa Klaus! You can't think how I've +wished for it; my own is such a horrid little thing. And +those beautiful pictures for my scrap-book, and the things +for the doll's house—and I <i>really</i> believe that's the book of +fairy tales I've been longing for for months!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marianne's face shone with delighted expectation as she +opened the top of her stocking and peeped in.</p> + +<p>"Not till the morning," cried Santa Klaus; "you know +my rule," and patting Marianne on the head, he disappeared, +with his sack much lightened, up the chimney.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do come here!" cried Marianne to the Chintz Imp. +"I must talk to somebody."</p> + +<p>"I think you certainly <i>ought</i> to talk to me," said the +Chintz Imp, coming carefully down the brickwork, hand +over hand, and laying the knife down in the fender. +"Without me you wouldn't have had a single present."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I'm very grateful," said Marianne. "I wish +he had brought you something, though I'm sure I don't know +what would be useful to you."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should like a good many things," replied the +Chintz Imp, perching himself on a brass knob at the end of +the bedstead, "and one or two I think you can get me easily. +I'm tired of this room and the little society I see, and I long +for the great world. Can't you get me put on a settee in +the Servants' Hall, or somewhere lively?"</p> + +<p>"I'll ask Aunt Olga," said Marianne. "She promised me +a Christmas present, and I was to choose. Suppose I choose +new bed curtains?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the Chintz Imp, "but be sure you +bargain to hang me in some cheerful place. Sixty years in +one room is too much of a good thing—I want a change!" +and he stretched himself wearily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I really will do my best for you," said Marianne. "I'm +afraid you're too faded for the drawing-room, but I won't +have new curtains until I can see you put somewhere nice. +I suppose you wouldn't like the passages?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not," replied the Chintz Imp. "Dull places. +No fun, and nothing going on. The Servants' Hall, or stay +where I am!" He folded his green arms with determination.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I can manage it," said Marianne, and fell asleep +again while she was arranging the words in which she should +make the suggestion to Aunt Olga.</p> + +<p>The next day Marianne awoke betimes, and immediately +inspected the contents of her stocking.</p> + +<p>There, stuffed clumsily inside it, was everything she had +been wishing for during the year, and more too!</p> + +<p>"Do come and look at my things!" cried Marianne to the +Chintz Imp, but he remained rigidly against his shiny +spotted background and refused to move, though Marianne +thought she saw a twinkle in his eye, which showed he was +not quite so impassive as he appeared to be.</p> + +<p>"I'll try and get him put into the Servants' Hall as soon +as possible," she thought. "It makes me quite nervous to +think he may pounce upon me any minute. Besides, one +must keep one's promises! How extraordinary it is he can +make himself so perfectly flat."</p> + +<p>As soon as she was dressed she ran down to the dining +room.</p> + +<p>"Dear Aunt Olga, I've got such quantities of things to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +show you!" she cried, "and as you said I might choose, +may I please have new chintz to my bed, and no pattern on +it, so that it can't come out and be Imps—I mean, have +funny shapes on it. And may my old curtains be put in the +Servants' Hall? He says it will be more cheerful for him, +and though, of course, he's been very kind to me, I think I +would rather he went somewhere else. Besides, it <i>is</i> dull +for him up there, all by himself—I mean, it would be dull for +<i>any</i> kind of chintz."</p> + +<p>"I do think Santa Klaus has got into your head, +Marianne!" said Aunt Olga, laughing; but she promised to +buy the new curtains.</p> + +<p>In course of time they arrived—the palest blue, with little +harmless frillings to them; and the old chintz was carried +off to the Servants' Hall to make a box cover.</p> + +<p>There it still hangs, and if you stoop down and examine +it closely, you will see the Chintz Imp looking more lively +than ever, with his green hat on one side, and a twinkling +red eye on the watch for any sort of amusement.</p> + +<p>Marianne often goes to see him, but, rather to her disappointment, +he looks the other way, and appears not to +recognize her.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's just as well," she says to herself, "for he +seems very happy, and if the servants knew he was here I +believe they would turn him out immediately."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> +<h3><a name="HEARTSEASE" id="HEARTSEASE"></a>HEARTSEASE.</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>The three-cornered scrap of garden by the elm tree, +with a border of stones, and a neat trodden path +down the middle, belonged to little Bethea.</p> + +<p>It grew things in a most wonderful way. Stocks and +marigolds, primroses and lupines, Canterbury bells and +lavender; all came out at their different seasons, and all +flourished—for Bethea watered and tended them so faithfully +that they loved her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 297px;"> +<img src="images/image039.png" width="297" height="400" alt=""BETHEA WATERED AND TENDED THEM SO FAITHFULLY THAT THEY LOVED HER."" title=""BETHEA WATERED AND TENDED THEM SO FAITHFULLY THAT THEY LOVED HER."" /> +<span class="caption">"BETHEA WATERED AND TENDED THEM SO FAITHFULLY THAT THEY LOVED HER."</span> +</div> + +<p>On a soft spring day Bethea stood by her garden with +scissors and basket, snipping away at the brightest and best +of her children; carefully, so that she might not hurt them, +and with judgment, so that they might bloom again when +they wished to.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where you're going?" she said—"To the +Hospital. Grandmamma's going to take me, and you're being +gathered to cheer up the sick people there—aren't you +pleased?" And the flowers nodded.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall be picked. I don't think I'm +good enough!" whispered a very small purple pansy, who had +only recently been planted, to a beetle who happened to be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +crawling by. "I should like to go with the others, though +I don't suppose it would cheer anyone to see me, I'm not +light enough!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be too sure," said the beetle solidly. "You've a +nice velvety softness about you, and then you have the best +name of them all. What sick person wouldn't like to have +Heartsease?"</p> + +<p>"I think I've got enough now," said Bethea, as she laid +the last primula in her basket.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do take me!" cried the pansy, touching her little +brown shoe with one of its leaves to attract her attention, +"I do want to help!" and Bethea stooped down, she scarcely +knew why, gathered it, and put it with the rest of her flowers.</p> + +<p>The drive to the Hospital was along a dusty country road, +and the flowers under their paper covering, gasped for +breath.</p> + +<p>As soon as they arrived, Bethea, following her grandmother, +carried them up to the room where children were +lying in the little white beds, and gave them to the woman +who was in charge of it.</p> + +<p>"Please would you mind putting them in water for the +children," she said in her soft voice, and the woman smiled +and nodded.</p> + +<p>Bethea took a few of the flowers out, and went round to +the different beds offering one or two, shyly, until she came +to a thin pale boy—a new patient, whom she had never +seen before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He's only been here a fortnight," said the woman in a +whisper, "and we can't get him to take any interest in +anything—I don't know what we're going to do with him!"</p> + +<p>"Is he very ill?" asked Bethea, wistfully.</p> + +<p>"No, not so bad as some. A crooked leg, that will get +well in time if only we can wake him up a little."</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry I have nothing but this flower left," said +Bethea, as she stooped over the boy's curly head, and gave +him the small purple pansy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I was more beautiful!" sighed the little dark +flower. "<i>Now</i> would be an opportunity to do some good in +the world!"</p> + +<p>The boy turned wearily, but his face lighted up as he saw +the pansy. His eyes brightened and he seized it eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Heartsease! Oh, it's like home. We've lots of that +growing in our garden. I always had some on Sundays!" +he cried. "Do let me keep it. It seems just a bit of home—a +bit of home—a bit of home."</p> + +<p>He murmured it over and over again, as if there was rest +and happiness in the very sound of it.</p> + +<p>"I'll keep fresh as long as ever I can," said the pansy, +"It's the least I can do for him, poor fellow!"</p> + +<p>"At all events the flowers are all out of my own garden," +said Bethea, sitting down by the white bed, and then she +talked away so gently that the boy's weary face smoothed +out, and he went to sleep.</p> + +<p>In a few days' time Bethea begged her grandmother to let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +her go again to the hospital, and she persuaded the gardener +to give her a beautiful bunch of pansies to take to the +sick boy.</p> + +<p>As she entered the room, she saw that the little purple +pansy was standing in a tumbler of water, on a chair by the +boy's bed.</p> + +<p>Its head hung over on one side, but it looked quite fresh +and healthy.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't it lasted well?" said the boy, happily. He looked +much better and spoke in a loud, cheerful voice. "It's been +talking to me about all sorts of things! the country, and +gardens, and springtime, and being out and about in the +fresh air and sunshine!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I certainly have tried to make myself as pleasant +as possible," said the pansy, but it spoke so low that nobody +heard it except the boy whose ears were sharpened by illness.</p> + +<p>"I've brought you some more," said Bethea, holding out +her bouquet, "shall I put them in the tumbler with the +little one?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no!" cried the boy anxiously, "I think if you don't +mind I'd rather you gave those to some of the other children. +I can't like any fine new flowers as well as that little fellow. +I feel as if he had made me well again!"</p> + +<p>The pansy expanded with pride, and a tear of gratitude +rolled out of its eye, and fell with a splash on the cane +chair-seat.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to have it dried in my old pocket book, when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +it's really withered," continued the boy, "and then I shall be +able to look at it always."</p> + +<p>When little Bethea next visited the hospital, the boy with +the crooked leg was just leaving; but his leg was not crooked +any longer; his face was bright and healthy, and safely +buttoned up in his coat he carried a shabby old pocket +book, in which lay a withered flower, with one word written +underneath in large pencilled letters—"<i>Heartsease</i>."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_Story_of_Siena" id="A_Story_of_Siena"></a>A Story of Siena.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER_I.</h3> + + +<p>The house stands on a hill on the outskirts of Siena, +not far from the high red walls that still enclose +the town, as entirely as they did in the times long +passed by, when Siena was the powerful rival of Florence.</p> + +<p>Old frescoes, and the stone coats-of-arms of the dead and +gone rulers of the place, decorate the great gates; which +seem only waiting for a troop of knights and soldiers to pass +through, and with a blast of their bugles awake the ancient +inhabitants of the crooked streets, and fill them once more +with the picturesque crowds of the middle ages.</p> + +<p>We can imagine that the old owners are but lying asleep +in their many storied gothic palaces, their vaulted courtyards, +and shady loggias; ready to rub their eyes and come out as +they hear the well-known sounds ringing across the wide +piazza.</p> + +<p>But the knights never come, and the old people go on +sleeping; and the new people walk about the streets, and +haggle at the market, and drive their country carts with the +great patient white oxen, and crowd on Sunday up the broad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +Cathedral steps to kneel in the dim light before the lighted +altar, as generations have done before them.</p> + +<p>All round the town stretches the open country. Low +sandy hills dotted with olive and cyprus trees, melting into +a blue sweep of mountains; and about a mile from one of +the gates stands the rambling white house with closed +shutters in which Maddalena, the housekeeper, lived alone +with her two grandchildren.</p> + +<p>She was a kind old woman and fond of the twins, who had +been left orphans when they were mere babies, but she often +thought that surely no grandmother had ever been plagued +before, as she was plagued by Tuttu and Tutti.</p> + +<p>"When they were infants it was easy enough," she would +declare to a sympathizing neighbour. "Give them a fig or +something to play with, and they were perfectly happy; but +at times now I am tempted to wish they had no legs, what +with accidents and mischief.—Not that they're not fine +children, and may be a comfort to my old age, but it's a +harassing thing, waiting."</p> + +<p>It was certainly a fact that Tuttu and Tutti were constantly +in mischief; and yet their curly black heads, red cheeks, and +great brown eyes, were so attractive, that people—even those +whose property had been seriously injured by them—treated +them leniently, and let them off with a scolding.</p> + +<p>The twins were always repentant after one of their misfortunes, +and made serious promises of amendment; but at the +next temptation they forgot all their good resolutions, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +never remembered them until they were in disgrace again.</p> + +<p>Grandmother Maddalena devised numerous punishments +for the children, such as tacking a cow's head cut out of red +stuff, on their backs, when they had teazed Aunt Eucilda's +cow—or tieing them up by one leg, with a long cord to +the table, for stone-throwing; but Tuttu and Tutti were +incorrigible.</p> + +<p>They wept loudly, embraced their grandmother, made all +kinds of promises—and the next day went off to do just +the same things all over again.</p> + +<p>There was only one person who had any influence over +them, Father Giacomo, the priest of the little Church of +Sancta Maria del Fiore, close by. He had known them from +the time they were helpless babies in swaddling clothes, +till they grew to be mischievous creatures in homespun +trousers; and in every stage of character and clothing he had +borne with them, taught them, played with them, and loved +them, until the <i>Padre</i> had become their idea of all that was +wise and good, and they would do more for the sake of +pleasing him than for anyone in the world, not even excepting +their grandmother.</p> + +<p>Every Sunday afternoon Father Giacomo called to take +them for a walk, the one only sure way of keeping them out +of mischief; and sometimes to their great delight they would +go along the olive-bordered road to Siena, returning in the +evening to the <i>Padre's</i> house, in time to have a good game +with the two cats Neri and Bianca, who had lived there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +since their infancy, as important members of the household.</p> + +<p>On their eighth birthday, Tuttu and Tutti assured their +grandmother that they really intended to reform. They +promised faithfully to give up tree climbing, fishing in the +pond, and many other favourite sports, and commenced to +dig in the piece of kitchen garden under their grandmother's +direction. In fact so zealous did Tuttu become +that he borrowed a knife from one of the farm labourers who +was vine pruning, and cut the whole of the branches off a +vine near the house, ending with a terrible gash in his own +thumb, which necessitated his being carried in an ox-cart to +the hospital in Siena, supported in his grandmother's arms; +while Tutti walked behind weeping bitterly, under the +impression that the doctor would certainly kill Tuttu this +time for his carelessness.</p> + +<p>Tuttu was not killed, however. The cut was sewn up, +while the ox-cart with its good-natured driver waited outside, +and the depressed party returned home, grandmother +Maddalena clasping her little earthen pot full of hot wood +ashes, which even in the excitement of the accident she had +not forgotten to take with her, for it was a cold day in early +springtime.[A]</p> + +<p>[A] A <i>scaldino</i>, carried about by all the Siennese women, and used in +the house instead of a fire.</p> + +<p>Tutti was allowed to ride home in the cart, and sat +holding Tuttu's hand, his eyes round with solemnity, the +traces of tears still on his cheeks.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<p>That night he went to sleep with his arm thrown round +Tuttu's neck, his curly head resting against his shoulder—and +though Tuttu was cramped and uncomfortable, and his +thumb pained him, he remained heroically still until he +also dropped asleep, and the two little brothers dreamed +peacefully of pleasant things until the morning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>"Well, thank Heaven! those children are safe for the +present," said Maddalena, as she sat on a stone bench in +the sun, with the dark clipped cyprus hedge behind her.</p> + +<p>To the right rose the stuccoed <i>Palazzo</i>, with its great +stone coat-of-arms hanging over the entrance, and inside, +a peep of the shady courtyard, with green tubs of orange +trees, and the twinkle of a fountain that shot up high into +the sunshine, and fell with a splash into a marble basin.</p> + +<p>Maddalena, in her broad Tuscan hat with its old-fashioned +black velvet—for she would never give in to the modern +innovations of flowers and ostrich feathers—held her distaff +in her hand, and as she twisted the spindle and drew out +the thread evenly, she thought with satisfaction of the +improved behaviour of the twins.</p> + +<p>Ever since the accident they had been different creatures, +and she wondered how long it would be before they could +be apprenticed to some useful trade, and begin to bring in +a little money.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When I can get hold of the Padre alone I'll ask him +about it; but he really does spoil these boys till I don't +know which tyrannizes over him most—the two cats or the +two children!"</p> + +<p>Maddalena's reflections were suddenly interrupted at this +point by the appearance of her grandchildren from the back +of the yew hedge by which she was sitting—Tuttu on all +fours, neighing like a horse, with Tutti on his back, blowing +a clay whistle.</p> + +<p>"We're only doing 'cavalry,' grandmother," gasped +Tuttu, with a scarlet face, attempting to prance in a +military manner.</p> + +<p>"Cavalry!" cried Maddalena, starting up. "Those +children will be the death of me. Cavalry indeed! Look +at your trousers, you disgrace. All the knees yellow sand, +and the elbows in holes!" and she seized her distaff and +waved it at them threateningly.</p> + +<p>To avoid his grandmother's arm, Tuttu hastily scrambled +under the stone seat, but his unfortunate rider thrown off +his balance, fell head first against the earthen <i>scaldino</i>, which +was broken, and its ashes scattered on the path in all +directions.</p> + +<p>When Tuttu, lying flat with only his head visible, saw this +terrible misfortune; he crawled out from his hiding-place, +and taking Tutti's hand helped him to get up, and stood +courageously in front of his grandmother.</p> + +<p>"It was all my fault, grandmother. Don't scold him! I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +made him do it, and I'm so sorry," he said, with a quiver in +his voice, but Maddalena was too angry to listen to him. +She had thrown her distaff on the ground, and was picking +up the pieces of the yellow <i>scaldino</i> to see if it could possibly +be fitted together again.</p> + +<p>"Go in both of you to bed," she called out without looking +up, "and don't let me see either of you again to-day! Just +when I had a moment's peace too, thinking you were at the +Padre's. It really is too much."</p> + +<p>Tutti burst into loud sobs of terror and remorse, but Tuttu +took him by the hand and, without speaking, led him away +to the house.</p> + +<p>"Why don't you cry, too, Tuttu?" asked Tutti, stopping +his tears to look in astonishment at his brother.</p> + +<p>"I'm too old," said Tuttu. "Grandmother's quite right, +we do behave badly to her." And that was the beginning +of a new era for Tuttu.</p> + +<p>The next day as soon as he was awake, he began to think +seriously over any possible way by which he could earn +enough money to buy a new <i>scaldino</i>. He dressed hurriedly +and ran off to talk it over with Father Giacomo, and the +result of the conference was a long but kind lecture of good +advice, and permission to weed in the Padre's garden for +the sum of one halfpenny for a large basketful.</p> + +<p>Tuttu danced about with delight. "Why, I shall earn the +money in no time at that rate," he cried, "and I'll buy the +best <i>scaldino</i> in Siena!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + +<p>He felt that he must commence work immediately, and in +the evening he staggered into Father Giacomo's, with a +scarlet face, carrying a great hamper of green stuff.</p> + +<p>When he had a little recovered himself, he unfolded to his +old friend another plan he had thought of during the day, +which he was quite sure would please his grandmother.</p> + +<p>"I've got a broken <i>fiasco</i> that the gardener's given me," he +said, "and I and Tutti mean to put a bean each into it every +day we are really good. Then, at the end of the month—a +whole month, mind!—we might take it up to grandmother."</p> + +<p>Father Giacomo highly approved of this idea, and encouraged +the children by every means in his power; so that, +for more than three weeks, the beans went in regularly +and the halfpence in Tuttu's store, which he kept like a +magpie hidden away in a crack of the woodwork, increased +rapidly.</p> + +<p>Old Maddalena had long ago forgiven the children, for +though she was often angry with them, she loved them really. +She guessed that Tuttu was determined to replace the +<i>scaldino</i>, as on several occasions he had not been able to +resist a veiled hint on the subject; but she pretended perfect +ignorance, and the two little boys might whisper and laugh +to their heart's content—it was quite certain she never heard +anything!</p> + +<p>One soft evening in May, Tuttu came into the Palazzo +garden in a state of great excitement. His last basket of +weeds had been handed in to Father Giacomo, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +entire sum for the <i>scaldino</i> lay in small copper pieces in a +crumpled scarlet pocket handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"It's all here," whispered Tuttu, one great smile stretching +across his good-tempered little face. "Every penny of it!—Shall +it be brown or yellow? It must have a pattern. We'll +go into Siena to-morrow and buy it."</p> + +<p>"To Siena!" said Tutti in an awe-struck whisper, "We've +never been there by ourselves."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, we're older now," replied Tuttu. "Don't +you say anything about it, it's to be a surprise from beginning +to end."</p> + +<p>Tutti agreed, as he always did with his brother. Of course +Tuttu knew best, and it would sure to be all right.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>They started early in the morning, having put on their +holiday clothes and brushed themselves; and as Bianca, +who had come over from the Padre's house, insisted on +following them, they tied a string to her red collar and +determined to let her share the pleasure of their visit to the +"great town."</p> + +<p>Their grandmother was still sleeping, but they left word +with the gardener's boy that they had gone into Siena +"on business."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>This sounded well, Tuttu thought, and would disarm +suspicion.</p> + +<p>The walk along the dusty high road was long and tiring, +and they were glad when they arrived safely in the Piazza, +where the market people had already begun to collect, for it +was market day.</p> + +<p>Tuttu carried his precious earnings tied up with intricate +knots in the handkerchief, and stowed away in the largest of +his pockets. He walked with conscious pride, knowing that +he was a person of "property," and entering the pottery +shop at the corner of the Piazza, began to cunningly tap the +<i>scaldinos</i>, and peer into them; while Tutti stood by, lost +in admiration at his brother's acuteness.</p> + +<p>Finally, a brown pot, with yellow stripes and spots, was +chosen and paid for, wrapped in the red handkerchief, and +carried off in triumph towards the Porta Camolla.</p> + +<p>"Whatever will grandmother say!" cried Tuttu, almost +shouting for joy, "I wish I could run all the way. There'll +be a big bean in the <i>fiasco</i> for each of us to-night, won't +there, Tutti?"</p> + +<p>"You've got a little money left, haven't you, Tuttu?" +enquired Tutti, who was always practical; "Couldn't we buy +some cakes. I really feel very hungry."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Tuttu, firmly, "I shall put it inside +the <i>scaldino</i> for grandmother. That'll be the second surprise. +Don't you see, Tutti?"</p> + +<p>"But it's only two half-pennies," argued Tutti.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, she'll be glad enough of that!" said Tuttu, and +tramped on steadily up the street. "Come along, Tutti, +we'll go into the Cathedral."</p> + +<p>Tutti remonstrated no more, he knew it was useless; and +the two little boys, ascending a steep flight of steps, entered +the Cathedral at a side door, and knelt down in the dim light +in one of the chapels.</p> + +<p>Tuttu repeated a prayer he had been taught, and +then continued rapidly, "Thank you, too, very much, +for making me and Tutti good; and please let us go on +putting beans into the <i>fiasco</i> till it can't hold any more—and +then we'll find something else...." He paused to +meditate. "Make grandmother pleased with us, and bless +the cats."</p> + +<p>Here Tuttu could think of nothing else, and nudged Tutti.</p> + +<p>"You go on, Tutti."</p> + +<p>"I think Tuttu's said everything," commenced Tutti in +a whisper. "But please keep us out of the pond, and make +us grow so that we can be artillery; and take us home safe, +for the road's rather long, and we've never been there alone, +and there's oxen about."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't say that, Tutti," said Tuttu, reprovingly. +"Oxen won't hurt you, and you shouldn't be a coward."</p> + +<p>"Well, shall I pray not to be a coward?" enquired Tutti.</p> + +<p>"If you think it's necessary," said Tuttu. "But you can +save that for another time—we ought to be going now"—so +Tutti got up, and the children pushed their way through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +the heavy curtain by the door, and found themselves once +more in the bright sunshine.</p> + +<p>Certainly Bianca had been no trouble to them. In the +Cathedral she behaved in the most serious manner, sitting by +their side, and never moving until they pulled the string to +which she was fastened; when she got up solemnly, and +followed them on to the Piazza.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I prayed for you, Bianca, good cat!" said Tuttu. +"You would never have allowed anyone to touch that <i>scaldino</i>, +would you?"</p> + +<p>Bianca mewed. She was rather bewildered by her walk +through the town, but as long as her two friends were +satisfied, that was enough for her.</p> + +<p>As they came out upon the more crowded thoroughfare, +the twins with their white cat attracted some attention, and +many laughing remarks were shouted to them as they edged +their way along the narrow paved street, where the absence +of any pathway made it necessary to keep their eyes very +wide open indeed, to avoid being run over by the carts and +carriages.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 470px;"> +<img src="images/image057.png" width="470" height="400" alt=""THE TWINS WITH THEIR WHITE CAT ATTRACTED SOME +ATTENTION."" title=""THE TWINS WITH THEIR WHITE CAT ATTRACTED SOME +ATTENTION."" /> +<span class="caption">"THE TWINS WITH THEIR WHITE CAT ATTRACTED SOME +ATTENTION."</span> +</div> + +<p>Tutti walked in charge of Bianca, while Tuttu devoted +all his attention to the <i>scaldino</i> in its red handkerchief, +and a large green cotton umbrella he had brought from +home in case the day should turn out to be rainy.</p> + +<p>This umbrella seemed to be endowed with life, so extraordinary +was its power of wriggling itself under the legs of +the passers by. It had to be constantly wrenched out, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +many apologies, by its owner; while the person who had been +nearly tripped up by it, went on his—or her—way grumbling.</p> + +<p>No one did more than grumble, however, for the look of +horror on Tuttu's face was irresistible.</p> + +<p>"Go on, Tutti; do hurry!" he cried, urgently. "I'm +getting so hot with this horrible umbrella. It seems to +catch hold of people whichever way I carry it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> going," replied Tutti laconically. "But remember, +I've got the cat."</p> + +<p>As he spoke a boy darted out from one of the grim old +houses close by, and picking up a loose stone threw it at +Bianca, grazing her head, and leaving a great red stain that +commenced to trickle slowly down her spotless white body.</p> + +<p>Tuttu, his eyes blazing with wrath, placed the <i>scaldino</i> by +the side of the kerbstone, and darted at the boy, waving his +umbrella; while Tutti threw his arms round Bianca's neck +and tried to hush her mews of terror by a shower of tears +and kisses.</p> + +<p>"How <i>dare</i> you?" shouted Tuttu, beside himself with +anger. "Go away, and leave our poor Bianca! You've +killed her, I expect; and I wish I could kill you!" But +even in the midst of his ungovernable rage, Tutti's voice +reached him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tuttu, Tuttu! the <i>scaldino</i>!"</p> + +<p>Tuttu darted across the street towards the stone where +he had left the precious red bundle. There it was, lying unhurt, +and he was about to seize it and carry it to a place of +safety, when a fast-trotting horse with one of the light +country gigs behind him, dashed down the street.</p> + +<p>"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!" shouted the +driver—but it was too late!</p> + +<p>The gig flew on, and Tuttu lay white and quiet, the +<i>scaldino</i> still grasped in his two little outstretched hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>"Where's the <i>scaldino</i>, grandmother?" were Tuttu's first +words, when he woke up to find himself lying on a little bed +in a long room, with Maddalena and Father Giacomo bending +over him. "We saved up.... It's all for you...." he +muttered brokenly, "Have you got it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lamb. A beautiful one it is," said the old +woman, the tears streaming down her wrinkled face. "You +lie still and get better, my Tuttu."</p> + +<p>"I will, grandmother, but I want you to see the surprise +inside. It's from weeding.... Father Giacomo will tell you. +I'm so tired, grandmother.... How's Bianca?"</p> + +<p>"Very well, Tuttu, she has only a slight scratch.... Oh, +my poor boy!" and Father Giacomo's voice broke.</p> + +<p>"Is it near evening?" said Tuttu, after a few minutes, +during which he lay moving his head restlessly.</p> + +<p>"It soon will be," said the Padre. "Why do you ask, +Tuttu?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>fiasco</i>.... Do you think I may put a bean in +to-night, or was I too angry?"</p> + +<p>"You may, Tuttu," said Father Giacomo, turning away +his head. "If you tell me where it is, I will send for it."</p> + +<p>"By the melon bed. Tutti knows. He'll bring it," +whispered Tuttu. "It's nearly full—only four days more. +Put one in for Tutti."</p> + +<p>As the setting sun streamed into the long room, Tutti<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +crept in, holding Father Giacomo's hand; carrying the broken +<i>fiasco</i>.</p> + +<p>Tuttu awoke from a restless sleep as they entered, and +smiled with a faint reflection of his old happy laugh. "That's +right, Tutti. You <i>have</i> been good, haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," quavered Tutti, lifting his terrified, tear-stained +face to his brother.</p> + +<p>"Put your bean in then, Tutti, and give me mine. It's +getting so late, it's almost night-time."</p> + +<p>Tutti held out the bean with a trembling hand, and as it +dropped into the old bottle, little Tuttu gave a quiet sigh.</p> + +<p>"It only wants four more," he said happily.</p> + +<p>Only four more! But Tuttu might never put them in. +That night he started on a long, long journey, and as the old +grandmother with choking sobs placed the broken bottle on +a shelf among her treasures, she turned to Tutti who was +lying, worn out with grief, upon the doorstep.</p> + +<p>"Come, my Tutti," she said, "there are only us two now. +We must try and be very good to each other."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Years afterwards, Tutti, coming home on leave—for he +had clung to his childish idea of being a soldier—found the +broken <i>fiasco</i> in the corner where his grandmother had hidden +it; and taking out the beans that had been lying there so +long, he carried them to a little grave with a small white +cross at the head of it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear Tuttu! He would like to have these growing +round him," he thought, and planted them carefully amongst +the flowers and grasses.</p> + +<p>Grandmother Maddalena was too old to move out of the +house now, but Father Giacomo watered the beans lovingly, +and in the soft spring air they grew rapidly, so that they soon +formed a beautiful tangle, hiding the cross and even the +name that still stood there clearly in black letters</p> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Tuttu</span>."<br /></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Stone-Maiden" id="The_Stone-Maiden"></a>The Stone-Maiden.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Atven was the son of a fisherman, and lived with +his father on a flat sandy coast far away in the +North-land.</p> + +<p>Great rocks strewed the shore about their hut, and the +child had often been told how, long, long ago, the giant Thor +fought single-handed against a shipload of wild men who +attempted to land in the little bay; and drove them off—killing +some, and changing others into the wonderful stones +that remained there to that day.</p> + +<p>The country people called them "Thor's balls;" and +Atven often wandered about amongst them, trying to find +likenesses to the old warriors in their weather-worn surfaces; +and peering into every hole and cranny—half dreading, half +hoping to see a stone hand stretched out to him from the +misty shadows of the past.</p> + +<p>Here and there, a row of smaller boulders lay half sunk in +the sand, with only their rounded tops, covered with long +brown seaweed, appearing above the surface.</p> + +<p>These, Atven decided, must be the heads of the ancient +Norsemen, and further on stood their huge mis-shapen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +bodies, twisted into every imaginable form, and covered by +myriads of shell-fish, that clung to their grey sides like suits +of shining armour.</p> + +<p>Atven was often lonely; for he had no brothers or sisters, +and his mother had died many years before. He was a shy, +wild boy—more at home with the sea birds that flew about +the lonely shore, than with the children he met sometimes +as he wandered about the country; but in spite of his shyness +he had friends who loved him everywhere he went. +The house dogs on every farm knew his step, and ran +out to greet him; the horses rubbed their noses softly +upon his homespun tunic; the birds clustered on his +shoulders; the cats came purring up, and the oxen lowed and +shook their bells as soon as they caught sight of him. The +very hens cackled loudly for joy—and Atven would caress +them all with his brown hand, and had a kind word for every +one of them.</p> + +<p>All the short Northern summer, Atven spent his evenings +in searching about amongst "Thor's balls" for traces of the +warriors of the old legend; and one night, in the soft clearness +of the twilight, he came upon something that rewarded +him for all his patient perseverance.</p> + +<p>Lifting a mass of seaweed that had completely covered +one of the larger rocks, he saw before him the graceful form +of a little Stone-maiden!</p> + +<p>There she lay, as though quietly sleeping, her long dress +falling in straight folds to her feet, her rippled hair spreading<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +about her. One small hand grasped a chain upon her neck, +the other was embedded in the rock on which she was lying.</p> + +<p>Atven was so astonished that he stared at the child-figure +as if turned into a statue himself.</p> + +<p>Then he realized that his long search had been rewarded, +and he fell on his knees and prayed that the Stone-maiden +might be released from her prison, and given to him to be +a little playfellow.</p> + +<p>As soon as it was daylight the next morning, he started +off to ask the advice of his one friend, the old Priest of +Adgard.</p> + +<p>The day was fine, with a crisp northern air, and a bright +sun that danced on the long stretches of sandy grass, and +on the swaying boughs of the fir trees.</p> + +<p>Atven's heart beat hopefully as he neared the neat wooden +house in which the old Priest lived.</p> + +<p>Father Johannes welcomed him kindly, as he always did; +and listened attentively whilst Atven told his story.</p> + +<p>"It must have consideration, my child," he said. "I +will come down to the shore to-morrow—perhaps I may +be able to think of something."</p> + +<p>Atven took up his cap humbly, and started on his homeward +journey.</p> + +<p>As he threaded his way beneath the shadows of the pine-trees, +the sun's fingers darted through the branches and drew +a golden pattern on the mossy ground under his feet; the +mosquitoes hummed drowsily, the air was full of soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +summer warmth and brightness—but Atven's thoughts were +far away with the ancient legend and the Stone-maiden.</p> + +<p>How had she come to be amongst the shipload of "wild-men" +in the misty ages when Thor yet walked the earth? +Had she a father and mother who loved her, and perhaps +brothers and sisters—and how long had she been sleeping +so quietly in the arms of the great rock?</p> + +<p>It was a strange cradle, with only the sea to sing her +lullaby, and wash her lovingly, like a tender mother!</p> + +<p>Atven hurried on; and as he peered before him with +sun-dazzled eyes, he thought he saw a figure flitting in and +out between the brown tree stems.</p> + +<p>It was a small, light figure, with a strange kind of loose +dress, and long floating hair of a beautiful gold colour. It +glided along so rapidly that Atven had some difficulty in +keeping pace with it.</p> + +<p>Every now and again it seemed to be beckoning to him +with one little hand; and at last as he ran faster and faster, +it suddenly turned its head, and he saw the face of a +beautiful young woman. Her brown eyes were soft and +clear, and her cheeks tinted with a colour so delicate, it +reminded Atven of the little pink shells he sometimes found +after a storm upon the sea-shore.</p> + +<p>"Atven! Atven!" she murmured, "You have found my +child. Give her life! Give her life!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me what I am to do!" cried Atven, and stretched +out his hands towards the beautiful young woman; but at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +that moment she reached the shore, and gliding between +the boulders, disappeared amongst their dark shadows.</p> + +<p>Atven threw himself down beside the rock on which the +Stone-maiden lay sleeping. He grieved for her so much that +tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, and as they touched the +stone, the great boulder shook and crumbled, and a shudder +passed over the figure of the Stone-maiden. She seemed to +Atven to sigh gently, and half open her eyes; but in a +moment they closed again; the rock settled into its place, +and everything was motionless.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow! To-morrow!" he said to himself, "When +Father Johannes comes, he will help me."</p> + +<p>Early next morning the old Priest knocked at the door of +the fisherman's hut. He had started at daybreak, for he +knew that Atven would be anxiously awaiting him.</p> + +<p>They went down together to the shore; and when Father +Johannes saw the figure of the sleeping child, he took out +of his bark basket, a little jar of water from the Church Well, +and sprinkled it over her.</p> + +<p>The Stone-maiden stirred and opened her eyes. She +raised her hands, breathed gently, and lifting her head, gazed +at the old Priest and the boy with wistful brown eyes, like +those of the figure Atven had met in the forest.</p> + +<p>"Where is my father? Where am I?" she asked, in a +low soft voice, as she rose up from the rock, and shook out +the folds of her long dress.</p> + +<p>Father Johannes took her hand, and gently repeated the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +old legend; while the Stone-maiden listened with wide-open +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I remember it all now," she said, as the puzzled look +faded from her face. "We had but just landed when the +thick cloud came down, and a shower of stones fell upon us. +My father was smitten down with all his followers, and I +only was left weeping upon the shore. A cold air seemed +to breathe upon me, and I fell asleep."</p> + +<p>She spoke slowly, in the old Norse tongue, but Father +Johannes had studied it, and understood her without much +questioning.</p> + +<p>"Where was your mother?" he asked kindly, as Atven +with smiles of delight, seized her other hand.</p> + +<p>"My mother died just before we set sail, and my father +would not leave me lonely," answered the Stone-maiden +sadly.</p> + +<p>"But we will all love you now," cried Atven. "I will +grow tall and strong to work for you, and you shall never be +unhappy any more!"</p> + +<p>The Stone-maiden smiled, as she stood on the threshold +of her new life. She looked up trustingly at her two friends, +and the old Priest of Asgard, bending down, laid his hand +upon her head with a gentle blessing.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The Warriors' heads, with their tangled elf-locks, still peer +out of the drifting sand—the twisted bodies in their sea<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +armour, lie half surrounded by the green waters; but the +log hut, and Atven have vanished into the misty shadows of +the past. They, and the good old priest, have drifted away +to Shadow-Land.</p> + +<p>Only the sea talks of them still; and croons them a lullaby, +as soft as the centuries-old song, it sang over the cradle of +the enchanted Stone-maiden.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Grass_of_Parnassus" id="The_Grass_of_Parnassus"></a>The Grass of Parnassus.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>On the banks of a clear stream in one of the far +away Greek islands, grew a small flowering plant, +with delicate stem and transparent white flower, +called "Grass of Parnassus."</p> + +<p>Every day it saw its own face, reflected in the running +water, and every day it made the same complaint—</p> + +<p>"This place is beautiful, the soft earth wraps me round, +the branches bend over me, but I can never be happy, for +I have never seen a River-God!"</p> + +<p>The fish swimming close to the shore had talked to the +Grass, of the mysterious race who lived in the shallows of +the river, higher up, where it broadened into a lake; and +played on their rude pipes as they rested in the flickering +gloom of the water-weeds and rushes.</p> + +<p>"Everyone has seen the River-Gods but me!" said the +white flower. "The wind brings me the floating sound of +their piping—I can even hear their laughter, and the echo +of their voices. Yet they do not come, and I may wither, and +never have the happiness I long for!"</p> + +<p>But one day, the river-side thrilled, with a strange, new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +feeling of hope and expectation. The sun shone, a faint +breeze stirred the trees; and down the stream waded a +beautiful youth, carrying his pipes in his hand, blowing a few +notes mournfully, at long intervals. His hair, crowned with +an ivy wreath, hung down, curled and tangled; his hoof-feet +splashed in the shallows of the water, and he cried—</p> + +<p>"Nadiä! Nadiä! Where are you hiding—Why do you +not come to me?"</p> + +<p>The white flower remained, enchanted and motionless, upon +its stem, bending its yellow eye upon the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Nadiä! Nadiä!" the voice wailed, "Do not hide from +me any more!—Come to me!"</p> + +<p>The bushes rustled and parted; a delicate girl's face looked +out, and a wood nymph in floating garments, slid to the +side of the stream, and dabbled her white feet in the water.</p> + +<p>The youth gave a cry of joy; "I have found you, Nadiä! +I have piped to you, and called to you till I was weary; +but I loved you, and at last I have found you!"</p> + +<p>The wood nymph smiled as she sat in the flickering +shadows—and the River-God bending down, gathered the +Grass of Parnassus, and placed it timidly in her shining +tresses.</p> + +<p>The wish of the white flower had been fulfilled; but the +end of its life's longing was—Death.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Hedgehogs_Coffee_Party" id="The_Hedgehogs_Coffee_Party"></a>The Hedgehogs' Coffee Party.</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Story of Thuringia.</span></h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>It was winter time, and the Thuringia-Wald lay +still and white under its snowy covering.</p> + +<p>The fir trees waved their branches in the frosty +air, and a clear moon had risen over the mountains.</p> + +<p>All was quiet and deserted, except that a faint sound of +music and singing floated on the wind, coming undoubtedly +from the comfortable burrow of the Hedgehog family, who +lived under one of the largest pine stumps.</p> + +<p>Councillor Igel—for the father was a member of the +Hedgehog Government—had consented to allow the young +people to have one or two friends to coffee, and they had +been dancing with the greatest spirit for the last half hour.</p> + +<p>By the porcelain stove stood the Councillor's only brother, +Uncle Columbus, who had devoted himself since childhood +to learned pursuits, and was much respected by the rest of +the family.</p> + +<p>He looked down upon all amusements as frivolous, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +then he had been to College, so his superior mind was only +what was to be expected.</p> + +<p>The Councillor belonged to an ancient Thuringian race +who had been settled for centuries in the forest near the +little town of Ruhla. They were a proud family, for one +of their uncles had, some years before, been called to take +up the position of Court Hedgehog at the Royal country +Palace, where he moved in the highest society, and occasionally +invited his relations to visit him.</p> + +<p>"But fifty miles is really almost too far to go with nothing +but a cup of coffee at the end," said the Hedgehog-mother, +"and he never invites us to sleep. We don't, therefore, see +so much of him as we otherwise should do."</p> + +<p>"That must be very trying," replied the Mole-mother, to +whom these confidences were being poured out.</p> + +<p>"Yes, for of course it would be an inestimable advantage +to the children to see a little Court life. However, with the +fashions altering so quickly, it would be difficult for me to +arrange their dresses in the last mode—and I couldn't have +them looked down upon."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," humbly replied the Mole-mother. She +was sitting by the table, with her homespun knitting in her +hand; and though she was trying to pay attention to her +friend's words, she was arranging her dinner for the next day +at the same time, and wondering whether her eldest child +could have one more tuck let out of her frock before Christmas +time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's all very well for the Hedgehog-mother," she thought. +"She comes of a high family, and can live in luxury; but +with all my children, and my poor husband working away +from morning till night, I'm obliged to plan every coffee +bean, or I could never keep the house together!"</p> + +<p>The Councillor's wife, however, talked on without noticing +her distraction.</p> + +<p>"Do you ever find any inconveniences from living so near +the town?" she enquired. "Do the boys ever annoy you? +They are sometimes very ill-bred."</p> + +<p>"Our house is in such a retired position, I seldom see anyone," +replied the Mole-mother. "The Forester's family are +our nearest neighbours, and really they are so kind they might +almost be Moles themselves."</p> + +<p>"That is very pleasant for you," said the Frau Councillor. +"<i>Our</i> case is quite different. The Rats who keep the inn at +the cross roads, are most disagreeable people. We can't +associate with them."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 354px;"> +<img src="images/image075.png" width="354" height="400" alt=""THE RATS WHO KEEP THE INN ARE MOST DISAGREEABLE +PEOPLE."" title=""THE RATS WHO KEEP THE INN ARE MOST DISAGREEABLE +PEOPLE."" /> +<span class="caption">"THE RATS WHO KEEP THE INN ARE MOST DISAGREEABLE +PEOPLE."</span> +</div> + +<p>"Gypsies!" cried Uncle Columbus at this moment. He +had an unpleasant habit when he did not like the conversation, +of suddenly reminding the family of a tragedy that had +happened some sixty years ago, when a promising young +Hedgehog had been carried off to captivity by a band of +travelling Tinkers, and finally disposed of in a way too terrible +to be alluded to.</p> + +<p>The Councillor's wife looked angry, and hastily changed +the subject.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He is quite a trial to us sometimes!" she whispered to +the Mole-mother. "Such bad taste to mention Gypsies. +It makes me tremble in every quill!"</p> + +<p>"I think I must be going now," said the Mole-mother +hurriedly, putting away her knitting into a reticule, and +tying a woollen hood over her head—for she felt that it +would not do for strangers to be mixed up in these family +matters.</p> + +<p>Calling her children to her, she helped them into their +warm galoshes; and lighting a small lantern, they were soon +out in the snowy forest.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>"Oh, mother, I wish we were rich like the Hedgehogs," +cried the eldest daughter, Emmie; "Wilhelm and Fritz +are so fashionable, and on Berta's birthday they are going +to give a grand coffee party, to which the Court Hedgehog +is expected!"</p> + +<p>"Well, they won't ask us, so you had better not think +too much about it," said the Mole-mother; "don't let your +mind run on vanities."</p> + +<p>As she spoke they saw the two rats from the Inn coming +towards them. The elder—the proprietor of the Inn—in +a peasant's dress with a pipe in his mouth, dragging a +small sledge on which three infant rats were seated, wrapped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +in a fur rug, while their mother walked beside them, her +homespun cloak trailing over the snow.</p> + +<p>"Good evening, neighbours!" cried the Mole-mother +pleasantly, for though she did not exactly approve of the +Rat household, she always treated them with civility. +"Where are you out so late? How well the children are +looking!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they grow rapidly—bless their little tails and +whiskers!" said the Rat-mother proudly. "We have just +been to my brother's in the town, taking a cup of coffee +with him, and there we heard some news. <i>I</i> can tell you! +There's to be a grand Coffee Party at the Hedgehogs, and +though all the guests have been invited, <i>we</i> alone are left +out. Most insulting <i>I</i> call it!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it <i>is</i> rude," allowed the Mole-mother, "but they've +not asked us either. You see the Court Hedgehog is to be +there, and so it is very select."</p> + +<p>"Select! I'll make them select!" growled the proprietor +of the Inn with a scowl. "Who are they I should like to +know? They may have Gypsies upon them at any moment!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope not!" cried the Mole-mother.</p> + +<p>"There's a Tinker's boy in the town," said the Innkeeper, +darkly, "and he's always looking out for Hedgehogs—I +shouldn't be surprised if he heard where the family live."</p> + +<p>"Good-night!" said the Mole-mother, nervously, and +hurried on with her children.</p> + +<p>"Some mischief will be done if we don't watch," she said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +to Emmie, who was a mole of unusual intelligence. "I'll +tell your brother to keep his eye on the Rat Inn."</p> + +<p>After about half an hour's walking, they arrived at home; +for their house was in a secluded position in the most unfrequented +part of the forest.</p> + +<p>Though very simple, it was clean and well kept, and +furnished with a large cooking stove, a four-post bedstead, +and a few wooden benches.</p> + +<p>In the one arm-chair sat the Mole-father, reading the +newspaper; while his sister, Aunt Betta, with a cap with +long streaming ribbons on her head, was busily stirring +something in a saucepan.</p> + +<p>As the Mole-mother and her family, descended the stone +stairway that led from the upper air, a delicious smell of +cooking greeted them. Two large tallow candles were burning +brightly, and altogether the house presented a very lively +appearance.</p> + +<p>"Here you are at last," cried the Mole-father. "Supper is +just ready, and I have sent Karl to the Inn for some +lager-beer."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he will hear anything," said the Mole-mother +taking off her galoshes; and then she related all the news of +the evening.</p> + +<p>"If there isn't some mischief brewing, may I be made into +waistcoats!" exclaimed the Mole-father, throwing down his +newspaper.</p> + +<p>It was his favourite expression when much excited, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +never failed to give the Mole-mother a shiver all down her +back. She called it such very strong language.</p> + +<p>At this moment Karl came clattering down the steps.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! mother! I <i>have</i> heard something!" he +shouted. "The Rat-father has started off to the Tinker's to +tell the boy where the Hedgehogs are living!"</p> + +<p>The Mole-mother sank down on a bench gasping.</p> + +<p>"He's done it then! Oh, the poor Hedgehogs!" she +cried wringing her hands, "They'll be cooked in clay before +they can turn round."</p> + +<p>"Don't be in such a hurry, wife," said the Mole-father. +"I've thought of something. We won't terrify the Hedgehogs—What +can <i>they</i> do?—but we'll collect all the Moles of +the neighbourhood, and make a burrow all round the house; +then if the Tinker's son comes, he'll fall in, and can't get +any further. What do you think of that, eh?"</p> + +<p>"An excellent idea!" said the Mole-mother, recovering. +"Send Karl round to-night, and begin the first thing to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>As soon as daylight dawned in the forest, the Mole-father, +accompanied by his wife and children, and all their +friends; went out in a long procession, with their shovels and +wheelbarrows, and commenced work round the Hedgehogs' +house.</p> + +<p>The Councillor's family were so busily occupied in turning +out, and arranging, their rooms for the festivity—which was to +include a dance in the evening—that they had no time to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +any notice of the Moles' digging; in fact they never even +observed it. The younger Hedgehogs were roasting coffee. +The house-mother sugared the cakes in the back-kitchen, +while the Councillor, with a large holland apron, rubbed +down the floor, and gave a final dust to the furniture.</p> + +<p>As to Uncle Columbus—he sat on a sort of island of chairs +in one corner, studying a book, and looking on misanthropically +at the preparations.</p> + +<p>The Moles, therefore, were quite uninterrupted, and +burrowed away vigorously, until the earth all round the +house was mined to a depth of several feet; and they returned +home to dinner in high spirits.</p> + +<p>"If that boy dares to venture, may I be made into waistcoats, +if he doesn't fall in!" cried the Mole-father, wiping +his face with a red cotton pocket-handkerchief—for though +the snow was on the ground the work was exhausting.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>The Tinker's family sat round a fire, in one of the tumble-down +wooden cottages that dotted the outskirts of the little +town of Ruhla.</p> + +<p>A small stove scarcely warmed the one room, for great +cracks appeared in the walls in every direction.</p> + +<p>"We've got no dinner to-day; are you going after those +Hedgehogs?" said the Tinker to his son Otto. "Now you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +know where they are, it will be an easy thing to get hold +of them."</p> + +<p>"Yes; we'll have a fine supper to-night," said Otto, +stamping his feet to get them warm. "Come with me, +Johann, and we'll take the old sack over our shoulders to +bring them back in."</p> + +<p>They started off over the crisp snow sparkling in the +early sunshine, away to the forest; and straight towards the +great pine tree, which sheltered the underground home of +Councillor Igel.</p> + +<p>"Come, Johann!" cried Otto, bounding along over the +slippery pathway; but Johann was small and fat, and his +little legs could not keep pace with Otto's long ones. He +soon fell behind, and Otto raced on by himself.</p> + +<p>"Do be careful, Otto! There's lots of Moles here," cried +little Johann, but Otto did not stop to listen. On he ran +almost up to the pine tree; when Johann saw him suddenly +jump into the air, and disappear through the snow with a +loud shriek.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>At the sound of the fall, the Councillor ran up the steps to +his front door, and put out his head cautiously to see what +was the matter.</p> + +<p>"Gypsies!" said Uncle Columbus without raising his eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +from his book; and for the first time in his life he was right!</p> + +<p>Gypsies it certainly was, as the Councillor soon determined; +and he hastily scratched some snow over the door, +and retired to the back kitchen with his whole family, in a +terrible state of fright and excitement.</p> + +<p>"What <i>can</i> the boy have fallen into?" he enquired vainly +of the Hedgehog-mother, and of Uncle Columbus, in turn. +"There are no houses there that <i>I</i> know of. We have been +saved by almost a miracle!"</p> + +<p>As they remained shuddering in a little frightened knot—only +Uncle Columbus maintaining his philosophical calm—the +air filled with the odour of burnt sugar; a faint knocking +was heard against the side of the stove pipe, and in another +minute the Mole-father's red nightcap appeared through a +hole, and his kind face shortly followed.</p> + +<p>"Don't be frightened," he said reassuringly. "I have +made a little tunnel and come through—merely to +explain things. I thought perhaps you might be a little +alarmed."</p> + +<p>"Alarmed!" cried the Hedgehog-mother. "It doesn't +describe it! Terrified, and distracted, is nearer to the real +thing. The sugar biscuits are all spoilt, for I forgot them +in the oven; and my daughter Berta fainted on the top of +the stove, and is so seriously singed, she will be unable to +appear at the party. Not that we shall be able to have a +party now," continued the Hedgehog-mother, weeping, "for +Uncle Columbus sat down on the plum cake in mistake for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +foot-stool, and Fritz has trodden on the punch bottles. Oh, +what a series of misfortunes!"</p> + +<p>"Cheer up, my good neighbour, all will come right in +time," said the Mole-father encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"As long as the Court Hedgehog doesn't appear in the +middle," wailed the Councillor. "It makes me shudder in +every quill to think of it. Not even a front door to receive +him at!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as to that, let him come to us, and we will give +him the best we have," replied the Mole-father. "Our place +is homely, but I daresay he will condescend to put up with it +till your house is in order again. I sent Karl on to intercept +him, and explain just how it is. He will take him straight +to our house till you are ready for him."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say you have been exceedingly thoughtful," +said the Councillor, pompously, "and I feel sincerely grateful +to you; but now, will you kindly explain to me the cause +of this severe disturbance?"</p> + +<p>"I think I'll come into the room first, if you'll allow me," +said the Mole-father. "I am getting rather a crick in the +neck from sticking my head through here."</p> + +<p>"Come in by all means," said the Hedgehog-mother, +graciously. "I am sorry to be obliged to receive you in this +humble apartment."</p> + +<p>"Gypsies!" growled Uncle Columbus, who was brushing +the currants and crumbs off his coat with a duster.</p> + +<p>The Mole-father had by this time worked himself into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +kitchen, dragging his spade after him; and seated on a bench +by the stove, he related the whole story to the Councillor, +but carefully omitted to give the name of the person who +had betrayed the Hedgehogs to the Tinker's family; and notwithstanding +the requests of the whole family, he firmly +refused to do so.</p> + +<p>"All's well that ends well," he said cheerfully, "and as I +heard the Tinker forbidding his sons ever to come near the +place again, you will be quite safe in the future."</p> + +<p>"What has happened to that dreadful boy? Is he still +in the hole, or have they got him out?" enquired the +Hedgehog-mother anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Got him out some time ago," said the Mole-father, +"and carried him off to the hospital. Broke his leg, I am +sorry to say, though it's nothing very bad. He will be all +right in six weeks or so. I don't think much of those human +fractures."</p> + +<p>"Serves him right," said the Councillor viciously. "And +now, my good preserver, in what way can we show our +gratitude to you? I shall send Fritz and Wilhelm into the +town for more provisions, and we might have our Coffee +Party after all. What do you say to that, my children?"</p> + +<p>The family clapped their hands joyfully.</p> + +<p>"I trust you and your family will grace the party?" +said the Hedgehog-mother to the old Mole.</p> + +<p>"On one condition," he replied, "I shall be delighted to +do so; and that is that you will allow me to ask the Rats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +from the Inn. They are touchy people, and do not readily +forgive an injury."</p> + +<p>"What I said all along," muttered Uncle Columbus, +lifting his eyes from his dusting. "I said 'away with pride,' +but I wasn't listened to."</p> + +<p>"You will be now," said the Councillor in a soothing and +dignified manner. "Certainly; send an invitation to the +Inn if you wish it. Just write, 'To meet the Court Hedgehog,' +at the top, Wilhelm; it will make it more gratifying."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>The Court Hedgehog, with an escort of six guards, had +meanwhile arrived at the Mole's house, and was being entertained +by the Mole-mother and her children, who were all +in a state of great nervousness.</p> + +<p>The Court Hedgehog, however, appeared to be more +condescending than could have been expected from his +position. He accepted some refreshment, and a pipe of +the Mole-father's tobacco, and then reclining in the one +easy chair, he awaited the course of events with calmness.</p> + +<p>Here the Councillor found him some hours later, when the +confusion in the Hedgehog household having been smoothed +over—a deputation of the father and sons started to bring +the distinguished guest home in triumph.</p> + +<p>The rooms in the Councillor's house had all been gaily<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +decorated with pine branches; the stove sent out a pleasant +glow; and the Hedgehog-mother, in her best cap and a stiff +black silk dress, stood waiting to welcome her guests in the +ante-room.</p> + +<p>By her side sat Berta, who had fortunately recovered +sufficiently to be present at the entertainment; though still +suffering from the effects of the shock, and with her +head tied up in a silk handkerchief.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"> +<img src="images/image088.png" width="386" height="400" alt="The Court Hedgehog." title="The Court Hedgehog." /> +</div> + +<p>As the Court Hedgehog appeared in the doorway, three of the younger +children, concealed in a bower of branches, commenced to sing an ode +composed by Uncle Columbus for the occasion, beginning "Welcome to our +honoured guest,"—while a fiddler hired for the occasion +accompanied it upon the violin, behind a red curtain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The first visitors to arrive were the Moles; followed by +the Rat family, who were filled with remorse when they +received the invitation, at the thought of their treacherous +behaviour.</p> + +<p>"I declare, mother," said the Innkeeper to his wife in a +whisper, "the Mole-father is such a good creature, I shall +be ashamed to quarrel with any of his friends for the future. +'Live and let live,' ought to be our motto."</p> + +<p>Uncle Columbus did not appear till late in the evening, +when he entered the room dressed in an antiquated blue +coat with brass buttons, finished off by a high stand-up +white collar.</p> + +<p>He staggered in, carrying a large plum cake about twice +the size of the one he had unfortunately sat down upon; +which he placed upon the coffee table, where the Hedgehog-mother +was presiding over a large collection of various cups, +mugs, and saucers.</p> + +<p>"I have only just come back from town, where I went +to procure a cake fit for this happy occasion," he whispered. +"It does my heart good to see this neighbourly gathering, +and I have made up my mind to promise you something in +memory of the event. I will from this day, give up for ever a +habit which I know has been objectionable to you—the word +'Gypsies' shall never again be mentioned in the family."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Uncle_Volodia" id="Uncle_Volodia"></a>Uncle Volodia.</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">A Story of a Russian Village</span>.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>On the one hill of the district, just outside the village +of Viletna, stood the great house belonging to +Madame Olsheffsky.</p> + +<p>All round it lay, what had once in the days gone by, been +elaborate gardens, but were now a mere tangle of brushwood, +waving grass, and wild flowers.</p> + +<p>Beyond this, again, were fields of rye and hemp, bounded +on one side by the shining waters of the great Seloe Lake, +dug by hundreds of slaves in the time of Madame Olsheffsky's +great-grandfather; and on the other by the dim greenness +of a pine forest, which stretched away into the distance for +mile after mile, until it seemed to melt into the misty line +of the horizon.</p> + +<p>Between the lake and the gardens of the great house, lay +Viletna, with its rough log houses, sandy street, and great +Church, crowned with a cupola like a gaily-painted melon; +where Elena, Boris, and Daria, the three children of Madame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +Olsheffsky, drove every Sunday with their mother in the +old-fashioned, tumble-down carriage.</p> + +<p>All the week the children looked forward to this expedition, +for with the exception of an occasional visit to Volodia +Ivanovitch's shop in the village, it was the only break in +the quiet monotony of their lives.</p> + +<p>They were allowed to go to Volodia's, whenever they had +money enough to buy anything; and often spent the afternoon +there listening to his long tales, and examining the +contents of the shop, which seemed to supply all that any +reasonable person could wish for—from a ball of twine to +a wedding dress.</p> + +<p>Volodia himself, had been a servant at the great house +many years before, "when the place was kept up as a country +gentleman's should be"—he was fond of explaining to the +children—"but when the poor dear master was taken off to +Siberia—he was as good as a saint, and no one knew what +they found out against him—then the Government took all +his money, and your mother had to manage as well as she +could with the little property left her by your grandfather. +She ought to have owned all the country round, but your +great-grandfather was an extravagant man, Boris Andreïevitch! +and he sold everything he could lay hands on!"</p> + +<p>Elena and Boris always listened respectfully. They had +the greatest opinion of "Uncle Volodia's" wisdom, and they +could just remember the time of grief and excitement when +their father left them; but it had all happened so long ago<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +that though their mother often spoke of him, and their old +nurse Var-Vara was never tired of relating anecdotes of his +childhood, they had gradually begun to think of him, not as +a living person, but as one of the heroes of the old romances +that still lingered on the shelves of the dilapidated library.</p> + +<p>It was a happy life the children led in the great white house. +It made no difference to them that the furniture was old and +scanty, that the rooms were bare, and the plaster falling away +in many places from the walls and ceilings.</p> + +<p>Their mother was there, and all their old friends, and +they wished for nothing further.</p> + +<p>Was there not Toulu, the horse, in his stall in the ruined +stable; Tulipan, the Pomeranian dog, Adam, the old butler, +and Alexis, the "man of all work," who rowed their boat on +the lake, tidied the garden—as well as the weeds and his own +natural laziness would allow him—and was regarded by Boris +as the type of all manly perfection!</p> + +<p>What could children want more? Especially as Volodia +was always ready at a moment's notice to tell them a story, +carve them a peasant or a dog from a chip of pine-wood, +dance a jig, or entertain them in a hundred other ways dear +to the heart of Russian children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>On one of the clear dry days of an early Russian autumn, +when a brilliant glow of colour and sunshine floods the air, +and the birch trees turned to golden glories shake their +fluttering leaves like brilliant butterflies, Elena, Boris, and +Daria, stood on one of the wide balconies of the great house, +with their mother beside them, sorting seeds and tying them +up in packets for the springtime.</p> + +<p>Some large hydrangeas, and orange trees, in green tubs, +made a background to the little scene.</p> + +<p>The eager children with clumsy fingers, bent on being +useful; the pale, thin mother leaning back in her garden +chair smiling at their absorbed faces.</p> + +<p>"Children, I have something I must tell you," commenced +Madame Olsheffsky, seriously, when the last seeds had been +put away and labelled. "It is something that will make +you sad, but you must try and bear it well for my sake, and +for your poor father's—who I hope will return to us one day. +I think you are old enough to know something about our +affairs, Elena, for you are nearly thirteen. Even my little +Boris is almost eleven. Don't look so frightened, darling," +continued Madame Olsheffsky, taking little Daria in her +arms, "it is nothing very dreadful. I am obliged to enter +into a lawsuit—a troublesome, difficult lawsuit. One of our +distant cousins has just found some papers which he thinks +will prove that he ought to have had this estate instead of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +your grandfather, and he is going to try and take it from us. +I have sent a great box of our title deeds to the lawyer in +Viletna, and he is to go through them immediately—but who +knows how it may turn out? Oh, children! you must help +me bravely, if more ill-fortune is to fall upon us!"</p> + +<p>Elena rushed towards her mother, and threw her arms +round her neck. "We will! We will! Don't trouble about +it, dear little mother," she cried. "What does it matter if +we are all together. <i>I</i> will work and dig in the garden, and +Boris can be taught to groom Toulu, and be useful—he really +can be very sensible if he likes. Then Var-Vara will cook, +and Adam and Daria can do the dusting. Oh, we shall +manage beautifully!"</p> + +<p>Madame Olsheffsky smiled through some tears.</p> + +<p>"You are a dear child, Elena! I won't complain any +more while I have all my children to help me. But run now +Boris, and tell Alexis to get the boat ready. I must go to +the other side of the lake, to see that poor child who broke +his arm the other day."</p> + +<p>Boris ran off to the stables with alacrity. He found it +difficult to realize all that his mother had just told them. +"Of course it was very dreadful," he thought, "but very +likely it wouldn't come true. Then, as Elena said, nothing +mattered much if they were all together; and perhaps, if they +were obliged to move into the village, they might live near +Volodia's shop; and the wicked cousin might let them come +and play sometimes in the garden."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Alexis! Alexis!" he shouted into the hay loft, and a brown +face with a shock of black hair, appeared at one of the +windows.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Boris Andreïevitch?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma wants the boat immediately," replied Boris. +"She is going over to see Marsha's sick child."</p> + +<p>Alexis took a handful of sunflower seeds out of his pocket, +and began to eat them meditatively, throwing the husks +behind him.</p> + +<p>"The mistress won't go another day?" he enquired +slowly.</p> + +<p>Boris shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The lake's overflowing, and the dam is none too strong +over there by Viletna," continued Alexis; "it would be +better for her to wait a little."</p> + +<p>"She says she must go to-day," said Boris, "but I will +tell her what you say."</p> + +<p>Madame Olsheffsky, however, refused to put off her visit; +and Elena, Boris, and Daria, looking out from the balcony, +saw the boat with the two figures in it start off from the +little landing-place, and grow smaller and smaller, until it +faded away into a dim speck in the distance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>Late that afternoon the three children were playing with +Tulipan in the garden, when they heard Volodia's well-known +voice shouting to them—</p> + +<p>"Elena! Boris Andreïevitch!"</p> + +<p>They fancied he seemed to be in a great hurry, and as +they flew towards him, they noticed that he had no hat, and +there was a look of terror on his face that froze Elena's heart +with the certainty of some unknown but terrible misfortune.</p> + +<p>"The lake! the lake!" he panted; "where is the mistress?"</p> + +<p>"Gone to see Marsha's sick child," said Elena, clinging +to little Daria with one hand, and gazing at Volodia with +eyes full of terror.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then it is true. It was her I saw! The poor +mistress! Aïe! Aïe! Don't move, children! Don't stir. +Here is your only safety," cried Volodia in piercing tones. +"The river has flooded into the lake, and the dam +may go any moment. The village will be overwhelmed. +Nothing can save it! The water rises! rises! and any +minute it may burst through! The Saints have mercy! +All our things will be lost; but it is the will of God—we +cannot fight against it." And Volodia crossed himself +devoutly with Russian fatalism.</p> + +<p>"But mamma! what will happen to her?" cried Elena +passionately. "Can nothing be done?"</p> + +<p>"To go towards the lake now would be certain death,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +replied Volodia brokenly. "No, Elena Andreïevna; we +must trust in God. He alone can save her if she is on the +water now! Pray Heaven she may not have started!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke, a long procession of terrified peasants came +winding up the road towards the great house. All the inhabitants +of the village had fled from their threatened homes, +and were taking refuge on the only hill in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>Weeping, gesticulating and talking; the men, women, and +children, rushed on in the greatest state of confusion.</p> + +<p>Some carried a few possessions they had snatched up +hastily as they left their houses, some helped the old bed-ridden +people to hobble along on their sticks and crutches; +others led the smaller children, or carried the gaily-painted +chests containing the holiday clothes of the family; while +the boys dragged along the rough unkempt horses, and the +few cows and oxen they had been able to drive in from the +fields close by.</p> + +<p>All, as they came within speaking distance of Elena and +Boris, began to describe their misfortunes; and such a babel +of sound rose on the air that it was impossible to separate +one word from another.</p> + +<p>"Where shall they go to, <i>Matoushka</i>?"[B] enquired Volodia +anxiously, as the strange procession spread itself out amongst +the low-growing birch trees.</p> + +<p>[B] _Matoushka_—little mother.</p> + +<p>Elena shook herself, as if awakening from a horrible +dream.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p> +<p>"Oh, it is dreadful! dreadful! But you are welcome, poor +people!" she cried. "Put the horses into the stables—Adam +will show you where—and the dogs too; and come into the +house all of you, if you can get in. The cows must go to +the yard. Oh, Var-Vara!" she added, as she turned to her +old nurse, who had just come out, attracted by the noise. +"Have you heard? Oh, poor mamma! Do you think she +will be safe?" and Elena rushed into the house, and up the +stair of a wooden tower, from which she could see for miles +round, a wide vista of field, lake, and forest.</p> + +<p>No boat was in sight, and the lake looked comparatively +peaceful; but just across the middle stretched an ominous +streak of muddy, rushing water, that beat against the high +grass-grown dam, separating the lake from the village, and +threatened every moment to roll over it.</p> + +<p>Elena held her breath, and listened. There was a dull +roaring sound like distant thunder.</p> + +<p>The streak of brown water surged higher and higher; and +suddenly—in one instant, as it seemed to the terrified child—a +vast volume of water shot over the dam, seeming to carry +it away bodily with its violence; and with a crash like an +earthquake, the pent-up lake burst out in one huge wave, that +rolled towards the village of Viletna, tearing up everything it +passed upon its way.</p> + +<p>Elena turned, and, almost falling downstairs in her terror, +ran headlong towards the group of peasants who had gathered +on the grass before the wooden verandah, and in despairing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +silence were watching the destruction of their fields and +houses.</p> + +<p>Beside them stood the old Priest, his long white hair +shining in the sunshine.</p> + +<p>"My children, let us pray to the good God for any living +things that are in danger!" he said.</p> + +<p>The peasants fell upon their knees.</p> + +<p>"Save them! Save them!" they cried, imploringly, "and +save our cattle and houses!"</p> + +<p>The blue sky stretched overhead, all round the garden the +birch trees shed their quivering glory; the very flowers that +the three children had picked for their mother, in the morning, +lay on a table fresh and unfaded; yet it seemed to Elena +that years must have passed by since she stood there, careless +and happy.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Boris, come with me!" she cried, passionately, "I +can't bear it!"</p> + +<p>Boris, with the tears falling slowly from his eyes, followed +his sister up to the tower, and there they remained till +evening, straining their eyes over the wide stretch of desolate-looking +water.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>It was some months afterwards. The flood was over, +and the people of Viletna had begun to rebuild their log<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +houses, and collect what could be found of their scattered +belongings.</p> + +<p>A portion of the great dyke had remained standing, so +that the lake did not completely empty itself; and the +peasants were able, with some help from the Government, +to rebuild it.</p> + +<p>Everyone had suffered; but the heaviest blow had fallen +upon the great house, for Madame Olsheffsky never returned +to it. Her boat had been upset and carried away, with the +sudden force of the current, and though Alexis managed to +save himself by clinging to an uprooted pine tree, Madame +Olsheffsky had been torn from him, and sucked under by +the rush of the furious water.</p> + +<p>Elena's face had grown pale and thin during these sad +weeks, and she and Boris looked older; for they had begun +to face the responsibilities of life, with no kind mother to +stand between them and the hard reality.</p> + +<p>To add to their misfortunes, the wooden box containing +the title-deeds of their estate, and all their other valuable +papers; had been swept away with the rest of Lawyer +Drovnine's property, and there seemed no chance that it +would ever be recovered again.</p> + +<p>In the interval, as no defence was forthcoming, the lawsuit +had been decided in favour of the Olsheffsky's cousin; and +the children were now expecting every day to receive the +notice that would turn them out of their old home, and leave +them without a place in the world that really belonged to them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p>The few relations they had, made no sign to show +they knew of their existence; but they were not without +friends, and one of the first and truest of these was +Volodia.</p> + +<p>"Don't trouble about this lawsuit, Elena Andreïevna," he +said, on one of his frequent visits to the great house. "If +the wickedness of the world is so great, that they rob you +of what rightfully belongs to you; take no notice of it—it +is the will of God. <i>You</i> will come down with Boris +Andreïevitch, and Daria Andreïevna, to my house, where +there is plenty of room for everyone; and my wife will be +proud and honoured. Then Var-Vara can live with her +brother close by—a good honest man, who is well able to +provide for her; and Adam will hire a little place, and retire +with his savings. Alexis shall find a home for Toulu—You +know Alexis works for his father on the farm now, and is +really getting quite active. You see, <i>Matoushka</i>, every one +is nicely provided for, and no one will suffer!"</p> + +<p>"But how can we all live with you, when we have no +money?" said Elena. "Good, kind Volodia! It would +not be fair for us to be a burden to you!"</p> + +<p>"How can you talk of burdens, Elena Andreïevna! It's +quite wrong of you, and really almost makes me angry! +Your grandfather gave me all the money with which I started +in life, and it's no more than paying back a little of it. +Besides, think of the honour! Think what a proud thing it +will be for us. All the village will be envious!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + +<p>Elena smiled sadly. "I suppose we shall have a little +money left, shan't we, Volodia?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, <i>Matoushka</i>. Plenty for everything you'll +want."</p> + +<p>And so, after much argument and discussion, with many +tears and sad regrets, the three children said good-bye to the +great house; and drove with Toulu down the hill for the last +time, to Volodia's large new wooden house, which had been +re-built in a far handsomer style than the log hut he had lived +in formerly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>Fortunately the winter that year was late in coming, so +that the peasants of Viletna were able to build some sort of +shelter for themselves before it set in with real severity.</p> + +<p>Volodia's house, which stood in the centre of the village, +had been finished long before any of his neighbours'.</p> + +<p>"That's what comes of being a rich man," they said to +each other, not grumbling, but stating a fact. "He can +employ what men he likes; it is a fine thing to have money."</p> + +<p>Volodia's shop had always been popular, but with the +arrival of the three children it became ten times more so.</p> + +<p>Everyone wished to show sympathy for their misfortunes; +and all those who were sufficiently well off, brought a little +present, and left it with Volodia's wife, with many mysterious +nods and explanations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't tell <i>them</i> anything about it, but just cook it. It's +a chicken we reared ourselves—one of those saved from the +flood."</p> + +<p>Volodia would have liked to give the things back again, +but his wife declared this would be such an affront to the +donors that she really couldn't undertake to do it.</p> + +<p>"It's not for ourselves, Volodia Ivanovitch, but for those +poor innocent children; I can't refuse what's kindly meant. +Many's the <i>rouble</i> Anna Olsheffsky (of blessed memory) has +given to the people here, and why shouldn't they be allowed +to do their part?"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Elena and Boris, were getting slowly used to +their changed life. It still seemed more like a dream than a +reality; but they began to feel at home in the wooden house, +and Elena had even commenced to learn some needlework +from Var-Vara, and to help Maria in as many ways as that +active old woman would allow of.</p> + +<p>"Don't you touch it, Elena Andreïevna," she would say, +anxiously, "it's not fit you should work like us. Leave it to +Adam, and Var-Vara, and me. We're used to it, and it's +suitable."</p> + +<p>And so Elena had to give herself up to being waited upon +as tenderly by the old servants, as she had been during their +time of happiness at the great house.</p> + +<p>Boris had no time for brooding, for he was working hard +at his lessons with the village Priest; and as to little Daria, +she had quickly adapted herself to the new surroundings.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>She played with Tulipan, made snow castles in Volodia's +side yard, and whenever she had the chance, enjoyed a sledge +drive with Alexis, in the forest.</p> + +<p>"If only mamma were here, I should be quite happy," she +said to Elena. "It does seem so dreadful, Elena, to think +of that horrible flood. You don't think it will come again, +do you?"</p> + +<p>Elena's eyes filled with tears, as she answered reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"You'll see mamma some day, Daria, if you're a very +good girl; and meantime, you know, she would like you to +learn your lessons, and be as obedient as possible to Var-Vara."</p> + +<p>"Well, I do try, Elena, but she is so tiresome sometimes. +She won't let me play with the village children! They're +very nice, but she says they're peasants. I'm sure I try to +remember what you teach me, though the things <i>are</i> so +difficult. I'm not so <i>very</i> lazy, Elena!"</p> + +<p>Elena stooped her dark brown head over the little golden one.</p> + +<p>"You're a darling, Daria! I know you do your best, +when you don't forget all about it!"</p> + +<p>Volodia Ivanovitch had devoted his two best rooms to the +children. He had at first wished to give up the whole of his +house to them, with the exception of one bedroom; but Elena +had developed a certain strength of character and resolution +during their troubles, and absolutely refused to listen to this +idea; so that finally the old man was obliged to give way, +and turn his attention to arranging the rooms, in a style<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +of what he considered, surpassing elegance and comfort.</p> + +<p>They were plain and simple, with fresh boarded walls and +pine floors.</p> + +<p>The furniture had all been brought from the great house, +chosen by Volodia with very little idea of its suitability, but +because of something in the colour or form that struck him +as being particularly handsome.</p> + +<p>A large gilt console table, with marble top, and looking +glass, took up nearly one side of Elena's bedroom; and a +glass chandelier hung from the centre of the ceiling—where +it was always interfering with the heads of the unwary. The +bed had faded blue satin hangings; and a large Turkish rug +and two ricketty gilt chairs, completed an effect which Uncle +Volodia and his wife considered to be truly magnificent.</p> + +<p>Boris slept in the room adjoining.</p> + +<p>This was turned into a sitting-room in the daytime, and +furnished in the same luxurious manner. Chairs with enormous +coats-of-arms, a vast Dresden china vase with a gilt +cover to it; and in the corner a gold picture of a Saint with +a little lamp before it, always kept burning night and day by +the careful Var-Vara—Var-Vara in her bright red gold-bordered +gown, and the strange tiara on her head, decorated +with its long ribbons.</p> + +<p>"If ever they wanted the help of the Saints, it's now," +she would say, as she filled the glass bowl with oil, and hung +it up by its chains again. "The wickedness of men has been +too much for them. Aïe! Aïe! It's the Lord's will."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p>Volodia Ivanovitch's house stood close to the village +street, so that as Elena looked from her windows she could +see the long stretch of white road—the snow piled up in +great walls on either side—the two rows of straggling, half-finished +log huts, ending with the ruined Church, and the +new posting-house.</p> + +<p>In the distance, the flat surface of the frozen lake, the dark +green of the pine forest, and the wide stretches of level +country; broken here and there by the tops of the scattered +wooden fences.</p> + +<p>Up the street the sledges ran evenly, the horses jangling +the bells on their great arched collars, the drivers in their +leather fur-lined coats, cracking their whips and shouting.</p> + +<p>Now and then a woman, in a thick pelisse, a bright-coloured +handkerchief on her head, would come by; dragging a load +of wood or carrying a child in her arms.</p> + +<p>The air was stilly cold, with a sparkling clearness; the +sky as blue and brilliant as midsummer.</p> + +<p>Elena felt cheered by the exhilarating brightness. She +was young, and gradually she rose from the state of indifference +into which she had fallen, and began to take her old +interest in all that was going on about her.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you something, Uncle Volodia," she said +one day, as they sat round the <i>samivar</i>,[C] for she had begged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +that they might have at least one meal together, in the +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>[C] Tea-urn.</p> + +<p>Maria was rather constrained on these occasions, seeming +oppressed with the feeling that she must sit exactly in the +centre of her chair. She spread a large clean handkerchief +out over her knees, to catch any crumbs that might be +wandering, and fixed her eyes on the children with respectful +solemnity.</p> + +<p>Volodia, on the contrary, always came in smiling genially, +in his old homespun blouse and high boots; and was ready +for a game with Daria, or a romp with Boris, the moment +the tea things had been carried away by his wife.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Elena Andreïevna?" he asked. "Nothing +very serious, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Not very, Uncle Volodia. It's only that I want to +learn something—I want to feel I can <i>do</i> something when +our money has gone, for I know it won't last very long."</p> + +<p>"Why trouble your head about business, Elena Andreïevna? +You know your things sold for a great deal, and it is all put +away in the wooden honey-box, in the clothes chest. It will +last till you're an old woman!"</p> + +<p>"But I would like to <i>feel</i> I was earning some money, +Uncle Volodia. I think I might learn to make paper flowers. +Don't you think so, dear Uncle Volodia? You know I +began while mamma was with us; the lady in Mourum taught +me. I wish very much to go on with it."</p> + +<p>Uncle Volodia pondered. It might be an amusement for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +the poor girl, and no one need know of the crazy notion of +selling them.</p> + +<p>"If you like, <i>Matoushka</i>. Do just as you like," he said.</p> + +<p>So it was decided that Elena should be driven over to +Mourum on the next market day.</p> + +<p>Volodia had undertaken, in the intervals of shop-keeping, +to teach little Daria how to count; with the elaborate arrangement +of small coloured balls, on a wire frame like a gridiron, +with which he added up his own sums—instead of pencil +and paper.</p> + +<p>They sat down side by side with the utmost gravity. Old +Volodia with the frame in one hand, Daria on a low stool, +her curly golden head bent forward over the balls, as she +moved them up and down, with a pucker on her forehead.</p> + +<p>"Two and one's five, and three's seven, and four's twelve, +and six's——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Daria Andreïevna! You're not thinking about what +you're doing!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, really I am, Uncle Volodia; but those tiresome little +yellow balls keep getting in the way."</p> + +<p>And then the lesson began all over again, until Daria sprang +up with a laugh, and shaking out her black frock, declared +she had a pain in her neck, and must run about a little!</p> + +<p>"What a child it is!" cried Volodia admiringly. "If she +lives to be a hundred, she'll never learn the multiplication +table!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + + +<p>A post-sledge was gliding rapidly over the frozen road +towards Viletna; and as it neared the village, a thin worn +man, with white hair, who was sitting in it alone, leant +forward and touched the driver.</p> + +<p>"I want to go to the great house. You remember?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're going to see Mikhail? He hasn't come to the +great house yet, though. It's all being done up."</p> + +<p>"No, I'm going to Madame Olsheffsky's!"</p> + +<p>"Anna Olsheffsky! Haven't you heard she was drowned +in the flood? Washed away. Just before the children lost +their property to that thief of a cousin!"</p> + +<p>The driver went on adding the details, not noticing that +the gentleman had fallen back, and lay gasping as if for air.</p> + +<p>"You knew Anna Olsheffsky, perhaps?" he said at last, +turning towards the traveller. Then seeing his face, "Holy +Saints! What is the matter? He'll die surely, and no help +to be had!"</p> + +<p>"She was my wife," said the gentleman hoarsely. "You +don't remember me? I am André Olsheffsky."</p> + +<p>"To think that I shouldn't have known you, <i>Barin!</i>" cried +the driver in great excitement, dropping the reins. "Not +that it's much to be wondered at, and you looking a young +man when you left! Welcome home! Welcome home!"</p> + +<p>"Where are the children?" said André Olsheffsky, +brokenly. "Perhaps they're dead, too?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, the children are all well, <i>Barin</i>! They are at +Volodia Ivanovitch's."</p> + +<p>"Drive me there, then," said Mr. Olsheffsky; and the +sledge dashed off with a peal of its bells, and drew up with +a flourish in front of Volodia's doorway.</p> + +<p>"Do look out, Elena!" cried Boris, who was carving a +wooden man with an immense pocket-knife. "Here's a +sledge stopped, and a funny tall gentleman getting out—not +old, but all white!"</p> + +<p>Elena went to the window, but the stranger had disappeared +into the shop.</p> + +<p>They could hear voices talking, now loud, now soft, then +a cry of astonishment from Maria. The door burst open, +and Volodia, his grey hair flying, the tears rolling down his +cheeks, dragged in the white-haired gentleman by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Oh, children! children! this is a happy day. The <i>Barin's</i> +come home. This is your father!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + + +<p>The next morning Elena and Boris awoke with a delightful +feeling of expectation.</p> + +<p>It seemed impossible to realize that their father had really +come back to them, and that he was dearer and kinder than +anything they had imagined!</p> + +<p>"If only mamma were here," sighed Elena, "<i>how</i> happy +we should be!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps she knows," said Boris soberly. "She always +told us papa was a hero, and I'm sure he looks like one."</p> + +<p>André Olsheffsky felt his wife's loss deeply. The children +were his only comfort, and every moment he could spare +from his business affairs he gave to them.</p> + +<p>With Elena he discussed their position seriously.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible, he said, to prove their claim to +Madame Olsheffsky's estate unless the lost box could be +recovered, but if that were ever found the papers inside +would completely establish their right. "I have sent +notices to all the peasants, describing the box, and offering +a reward. Who knows, Elena? it <i>may</i> be discovered!"</p> + +<p>Time passed on, and though Mr. Olsheffsky made many +expeditions into the town of Mourum, and drove all round +the country, making enquiries of the peasants, he could hear +nothing of the wooden box.</p> + +<p>"It's one of the secrets of the lake," said Volodia. +"That's my opinion; it's lying snugly at the bottom there; +and it's no good looking for it anywhere else."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Olsheffsky continued his enquiries.</p> + +<p>One day, just as Daria and Var-Vara were about to start +for a morning walk—Elena and Boris having gone for a drive +with their father—an old man in a rough sheep-skin coat and +plaited bark shoes came up to the house door, and taking +off his high felt hat respectfully, asked if he could speak to +the <i>Barin</i>.[D]</p> + +<p>[D] Master.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The master has gone out," said Var-Vara, "but I daresay +you can see him in the afternoon. Have you anything +particular to ask him?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing to ask, but something to show," and the old +man blinked his eyes cunningly.</p> + +<p>"Not the wooden box!" screamed Daria. "Oh, let's go +at once! Come, Var-Vara! <i>What</i> a surprise for papa when +he gets back! <i>Is</i> it the wooden box? You might tell me," +cried Daria, fixing her blue eyes on the old <i>mujik</i>'s face pleadingly.</p> + +<p>"It may be, and it mayn't be," replied the old man. "You +may come along with me if you like, Daria Andreïevna. I'll +show you the way to where I live—near the forest, you know. +Of course, I've heard all about the reward," he continued, +"and as I was clearing a bit of my yard this morning, what +should I find but a heap of something hard—pebbles, and +drift, and sticks, and such like. When I came to sorting it +out—for I thought, 'Why waste good wood, when you can +burn it? the good God doesn't like waste'—I struck against +the corner of something hard, and there was a——. Well, +what do you think, Daria Andreïevna?"</p> + +<p>"A box! A box!" cried Daria, seizing one of the old +man's hands, and dancing round him in an ecstasy of delight.</p> + +<p>"Not at all, Daria Andreïevna! The legs of an old chair."</p> + +<p>Daria's face fell. "I don't see why you come to tell papa +you've found an old chair!" she said crossly.</p> + +<p>"Stop a bit, <i>Matoushka</i>. There's more to come. Where +was I?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The chair! You'd just found it," said Daria, pulling at +his hand impatiently.</p> + +<p>"So I had. A chair! Well, it had no back, and as I +pulled it out it felt heavy, very heavy. It wasn't much to +look at—a poor chair I should call it—and I thought, '<i>This</i> +isn't much of a find;' but there inside it was something +sticking as tight as wax!"</p> + +<p>"The box!" cried Daria, "I felt sure of it!" and seizing +Var-Vara by one hand, and the <i>mujik</i> by the other, she +dragged them down the street, the old peasant remonstrating +and grumbling.</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, Daria Andreïevna!" said Var-Vara, gasping +for breath at the sudden rush. "Let Ivan go first; he +knows the way!"</p> + +<p>Daria could scarcely control her impatience during the +walk.</p> + +<p>"Make haste, Var-Vara! we shall never get there," she +kept crying; and old Var-Vara, who was stout, and had on +a heavy fur pelisse, arrived at the hut in a state of breathless +exhaustion.</p> + +<p>"Aïe! Aïe! what a child it is! Show her the box now, +Ivan, or we shall have no peace."</p> + +<p>Ivan went to the corner of his hut, where a large object +stood on the top of the whitewashed stove under a red and +yellow pocket-handkerchief. He carefully uncovered it, and +stepping back a few paces said proudly,</p> + +<p>"What do you think of <i>that</i>, now?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the box, safe and unhurt, Madame Olsheffsky's +name still on it in scratched white letters.</p> + +<p>Daria was wild with joy, and almost alarmed Ivan with +her excitement. She danced about the room, threw her +arms round his neck, and finally persuaded him to carry +the box to Volodia's house, so that it might be there as a +delightful surprise to her father on his return.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + + +<p>The children, Volodia and his wife, Var-Vara, and Adam; +all stood round eagerly as André Olsheffsky superintended +the forcing open of the precious box.</p> + +<p>"It's my belief the papers will be a pulp," whispered +Volodia. "We must be ready to stand by the <i>Barin</i> when +he finds out the disappointment."</p> + +<p>But the papers were not hurt. The box contained another +tin-lined case, in which the parchments had lain securely, and +though damaged in appearance, they were as legible as the +day on which they were first written.</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I <i>am</i> so glad!" shouted Boris and Daria; and +Elena silently took her father's hand.</p> + +<p>"I always thought the <i>Barin</i> would have his own again," +cried Volodia triumphantly, forgetting that only a moment +before he had been full of dismal prophecies.</p> + +<p>Adam and Var-Vara wept for joy, and Ivan stood by +smiling complacently. He felt that all this happiness had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +been brought about entirely by his own exertions, and he +already had visions of the manner in which he would employ +the handsome reward.</p> + +<p>"No more troubling about my old age," he thought. "I +shall have as comfortable a life as the best of them."</p> + +<p>That evening Mr. Olsheffsky started for Moscow, carrying +the parchments with him.</p> + +<p>The two months of his absence seemed very long to the +children, though they heard from him constantly; and there +were great rejoicings when he returned with the news that +their affairs had at last been satisfactorily settled. Mikhail +Paulovitch had withdrawn his claim, and the great house +was their own again.</p> + +<p>All the peasants of the neighbourhood came in a body to +congratulate them. Those who could not get into Volodia's +little sitting-room remained standing outside, and looked in +respectfully through the window; while the spokesman read +a long speech he had prepared for the occasion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Olsheffsky made an appropriate reply, and then, +turning to Volodia and the old servants, he thanked them +in a few simple words for their goodness to the children.</p> + +<p>"You might have knocked me flat down with a birch +twig," said Uncle Volodia afterwards, when talking it over +with Adam. "The idea of thanking <i>us</i> for what was nothing +at all but a real pleasure! He's a good man, the <i>Barin</i>!"</p> + +<p>The springtime found the children and their father settled +once more in their old home, with Adam, Var-Vara, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +Alexis; and life flowing on very much as it had always +done, except for the absence of the gentle, motherly, Anna +Olsheffsky.</p> + +<p>Uncle Volodia continued to look after his shop with zeal; +and the two rooms with the gilt furniture, which Mr. +Olsheffsky had insisted on his not removing, became objects +of the greatest pride and joy to him.</p> + +<p>He never allowed anyone but himself to dust them, and +in spare moments he polished the looking-glass with a piece +of leather, kept carefully for the purpose in a cigar box.</p> + +<p>"It's a great pleasure to me," he remarked one day to a +neighbour, "to think that when I leave this house to Boris +Andreïevitch—as I intend to do, after old Maria—it will have +two rooms that are fit for <i>any</i>one of the family to sleep in. +He'll never have to be ashamed of <i>them</i>!"</p> + +<p>On his seventieth birthday, Elena—now grown a tall slim +young lady, with grave brown eyes—persuaded him that it +was really time to take a little rest, and enjoy himself.</p> + +<p>He thereupon sold his stock, and devoted himself to +gardening in the yard at the back of his house; where he +would sit on summer evenings smoking his pipe, in the midst +of giant dahlias and sunflowers.</p> + +<p>Here Daria often came with Boris and Tulipan; and +sitting by Uncle Volodia's side, listened to the well-known +stories she had heard since her babyhood—always ending +up with the same words in a tone of great solemnity—</p> + +<p>"And <i>this</i>, children, is a true story, every word of it!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Angel_and_the_Lilies" id="The_Angel_and_the_Lilies"></a>The Angel and the Lilies.</h2> + +<h4>A Norwegian Story.</h4> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was a room at the top of a rough wooden house +in Norway. Though it was only a garret, it was +all very white and clean; and little Erik Svenson +lay in the small bed facing the barred window, through which +the moonbeams streamed till they seemed to turn the walls +into polished silver.</p> + +<p>As Erik tossed about, he heard his mother working in the +room below.</p> + +<p>The <i>thump, thump,</i> of her iron, as she wearily finished the +last of the clothes, that must be sent home to the rich family +at the farmhouse, early next morning.</p> + +<p>"Poor mother! how hard she works," thought Erik, "and +I can't do more than mind Farmer Torvald's boat on the +fiord. If I could only be employed in the town, I might be +able to help her!"</p> + +<p><i>Thump</i>, <i>thump</i>, went the iron. The clock chimed twelve, +and still the poor washerwoman smoothed and folded, though +her heavy eyes almost refused to keep open, and the room +began to feel the chill of the frosty air outside.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Erik sha'n't want for anything while I have two arms to +work for him," she said to herself; and went on until the iron +fell from her tired hand, and she sank back in her chair in a +deep sleep.</p> + +<p>Erik, too, had closed his eyes, and was dreaming happily, +when he was awakened by the brush of something light and +soft, across his pillow.</p> + +<p>Starting up, he saw that the moon was still brilliant, and +in its clearest rays stood a faint white figure, with shadowy +wings outstretched behind it.</p> + +<p>A vapoury garment enveloped it, and the face seemed +young and beautiful.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how wonderful! How wonderful you are!" cried +Erik. "Why have I never seen you before?"</p> + +<p>"I am Vanda, the Spirit of the Moon," said the Angel +gently. "Only to those who are in need of help can I +become visible. Your mother knows me well. Winter +and summer, I have soothed her to sleep; and to-night, +as you looked from the window, your thoughts joined +mine, and I was able to come to you. What will you +ask of me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Vanda, dear Vanda! Show me how to help my +mother; I ask nothing else!" cried Erik.</p> + +<p>He jumped from his bed, and threw himself at the feet of +the shadowy Angel.</p> + +<p>"Do you see that window?" said the Moon-Spirit, pointing +to the small panes that were now covered with a delicate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +tracery of glittering frost-work. "Of what do those patterns +remind you?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;"> +<img src="images/image119.png" width="255" height="400" alt="Erik" title="Erik" /> +</div> + +<p>"Of flowers!" cried Erik. "I have often thought so. +Sometimes I can see grasses, and boughs, and roses, but +<i>always</i> lilies, because they are so white and spotless."</p> + +<p>The Angel smiled softly.</p> + +<p>"To-night I shall shine upon them, and make them live," +she said. "Take what you will find upon the window sill +at sunrise, and sell them in the town. Bring the money +back to your mother at night-time."</p> + +<p>With the last words the Moon-Spirit melted into the white +light, leaving Erik with a feeling of the happiest expectation.</p> + +<p>Long before daybreak he was awake, and his first thought +was of the wonderful ice-flowers. Would the Angel have +kept her promise? What would he see awaiting him?</p> + +<p>As the rays of the sun shot over the fiord, he sprang out +of bed and ran to the window. There lay a bunch of +beautiful white lilies, nestling in a mass of delicate moss-like +green.</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i> the frost-flowers!" cried Erik, and wild with joy +he rushed into his mother's room, and held the bunch up for +her to look at.</p> + +<p>"Look, look, mother! See what we have had given us. +We shall soon have enough money to rent the little farm +you have always been longing for!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p><hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Erik's visit to the town was very successful. He sold his +flowers directly, although he had some difficulty in answering +all the questions of the townspeople, who wanted to know +where he had grown such delicate things in the middle of +a severe winter. To everyone he replied that it was a +secret; and they were obliged to be contented.</p> + +<p>He returned home in good time for his work upon the +fiord, and if it had not been for the store of silver pieces he +poured into his mother's work-box, he would almost have +imagined that he had only been dreaming.</p> + +<p>That night, as he laid his curly head upon the pillow, his +mind was full of thoughts about the Moon-Angel. He +wondered if she would appear again, and whether she would +once more leave him her gift of the white frost-flowers.</p> + +<p>The moon shone with silvery clearness into the garret; +and as the boy strained his eyes towards the window, the +bright form slowly floated through the bars and stretched a +pale hand towards him.</p> + +<p>"You have done well, to-day, Erik. Look to-morrow, +and to-morrow, and to-morrow, until my light has waned +and faded; and every day you will find the lilies waiting +for you."</p> + +<p>Again Erik felt the soft brush of Vanda's wings, and she +disappeared in the path of the moonbeams.</p> + +<p>The next morning the flowers lay fresh and fair upon the +window-sill, and for days the frost-lilies were always blooming.</p> + +<p>But each time the bunch grew smaller and smaller, until<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +at last, when the moon was nothing more than a thread of +brightness, Erik found one single blossom lying half drooping +on the window-frame.</p> + +<p>"Vanda's gifts have ended," thought Erik, "but she has +been a good true friend to us! We have gained enough +money for my mother to put away her iron, and take the +little farmhouse by the fiord. How happy we shall be +together."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The winter was nearly over, and Erik and his mother had +settled down to their happy life in the farmhouse.</p> + +<p>Frost-flowers, with delicate fantastic groupings, still +bloomed upon the window-panes; but the Moon-Angel was +not there to give them her fairy-like gifts of life and beauty.</p> + +<p>She had gone to console other struggling workers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Alpen-Echo" id="The_Alpen-Echo"></a>The Alpen-Echo.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Long, long years ago, a young girl wandering with +her herd of goats upon the Mettenalp, lost her way +amidst a mountain storm, and fell into a chasm of +the rock, where she lay white and lifeless.</p> + +<p>The terrified goats reached the valley beneath, but the +young girl was never again heard of.</p> + +<p>The spirits of the great mountain had claimed her for an +Alpen-Echo, and every day, for hundreds of years after, she +floated amongst the snow-covered peaks and crags of the +Mettenalp, answering every horn that sounded from the +hunters or cow-herds, with a soft, sweet note, so sad and +distant it was like a soul in pain, and tears came to your +eyes—you knew not why—as you listened to its exquisite +music.</p> + +<p>"Come, follow me! Follow me to my secret haunts," +wailed the Echo. "Give me my soul! Give me my soul!"—but +no one through all the centuries had ever climbed to the +Echo's hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"If <i>only</i> I could make them understand!" sobbed the Echo,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +"my long bondage would cease. The first foot that treads +my prison, frees me, and gives me rest."</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>However, all the world was too busy to listen to the poor +Echo, and she called and cried in vain through the misty ages!</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>A boy, with a long Alpen-horn in his hand, stood by a +châlet far away in the wilds of Switzerland. Every now and +then he blew a few wailing notes upon the horn—notes that +echoed across the valley, up to the snow-covered heights +beyond—and he smiled as the answer floated clearly back +again.</p> + +<p>"The echoes are talking together, to-day," he said to +himself. "They love the bright air and the sunshine;" and +again he blew a long, changing note, that died away softly +into the far distance.</p> + +<p>"<i>Tra-la-la-a-a</i>" came faintly from the opposite mountain—but +to the boy's astonishment the echo did not now cease, +and fade away, as it always had done before. It shifted from +point to point; its elfin tones ringing sweet and sad like the +bugle of a Fairy Huntsman.</p> + +<p>All that day the Echo sounded in the boy's ears, all night +it whispered amongst the mountain tops; and as soon as it +became daylight he sprang up, determined that he would +climb the side of the opposite valley, and find out the reason +of the strange music.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>A pale-green light tinged the sky, the mountains looked +dark and forbidding, and from the peaks above came the +soft sighing of the distant Echo.</p> + +<p>"It is like a soul in pain," thought the boy. "I <i>must</i> +find out what it means!" and he began to climb higher and +higher, until the valley lay far beneath him, and his home +looked a little brown speck amidst a sea of fields and pine trees.</p> + +<p>Before him still sounded the Elfin voice, now dying into +a whisper, now ringing clear and distinct, as though close +beside him—but always with the same beseeching sadness: +"Follow me! Follow me to my secret haunts! Give me +my soul! Give me my soul!" And the boy climbed on +until he reached the rocky crag which formed the summit +of the mountain.</p> + +<p>"At last!" he cried, as he stretched out his arms to clasp +the Echo's fairy-like form that floated mistily before him ... +but the Echo had faded from his sight as he approached her; +and her last words were borne faintly towards him as she +vanished into the golden glory of the sunshine—</p> + +<p>"At last! At last! I am at rest at last!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>The boy had learnt the secret of the Alpen-Echo. He had +freed her soul from its long bondage, and a few days afterwards +they found him lying with a smile upon his face on the +topmost peak of the Mettenalp.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Scroll_in_the_Market_Place" id="The_Scroll_in_the_Market_Place"></a>The Scroll in the Market Place.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>In the pale light of the moon the sleeping town lay +hushed and noiseless. At its foot the river rolled, +spanned by the curves of the old grey stone +bridge, and behind rose the giant hills, clothed with tracts +of pine and birch trees. A high wall surrounded the town, +with towers at intervals, from which gleamed the light of +the watchmen's lanterns.</p> + +<p>All was silent on the earth and in the air, when through +the deep blue of the star-sprinkled sky a little Child-Angel +winged his way from Heaven, and hovering over the steep +red roofs beneath him, folded his wings and dropped softly +into the deserted Market Place. In his hand he held a +Scroll with strange writing upon it, and crossing the Square +over the rough cobblestones, he fixed the paper to the +Fountain, and spreading his white wings, flew up again to +the home from which he came.</p> + +<p>Next day the country people flocking into the Market +Place saw to their astonishment a track of beautiful white +flowers springing up from amongst the cobblestones, and +stretching from one corner of the Square to the Fountain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were star-like flowers, with bright-green leaves, and +they grew in patches—"like a child's footsteps," the women +said.</p> + +<p>A little crowd soon gathered round the paper fastened to +the ancient Fountain. On the top of the Scroll was written, +very clearly—"All those who can read the words beneath +shall be rewarded generously," but the lines that followed +were in a strange language, and in such crabbed characters +that they defied every effort to decipher them.</p> + +<p>All day the crowd ebbed and flowed round the Fountain, +while the learned men of the town came with their dictionaries +under their arms and spectacles on nose, and sat on stools, +attempting to make out the crooked letters of the inscription.</p> + +<p>In the end each one decided upon a different language, +and the argument became so warm between them that they +had to be separated by a party of watchmen, and conducted +back again to their own houses.</p> + +<p>Professors from the University on the other side of the +mountains journeyed over the rough roads, and brought +their learning to the old stone Fountain in the Market +Place—but they, too, went away discomfited.</p> + +<p>No one could read the strange writing, and no one could +pull down the paper, for it appeared to be fixed to the stone +by some means that made it impossible to tear it away.</p> + +<p>Time went on, and the snow covered up the Market +Square, threw a white mantle over the steep roofs, and +buried the old gardens in its soft deepness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>In one of the houses near the spot where the little Angel +had first touched the earth lived a poor, lonely woman. She +worked all day at some fine kind of needlework, but when, +in the evenings, the sun had set and the twilight began to +fall, she would steal out for a few minutes to breathe the +fresh air. Often, though she was so wearied with her incessant +stitching, she would carry in her hand a flower from +the plants that grew in her latticed window to a neighbour's +sick child. It was a weary climb up a steep flight of stairs +to the attic where the sick child lay, but it was reward enough +to the woman to see the bright smile that lighted up the +little drawn face as she laid the flower on the counterpane.</p> + +<p>All the summer the poor sempstress had been too busy +during the daylight, to afford time even to cross the Square +to study the strange paper on the Fountain. "If learned +men cannot read it, a poor ignorant woman like me could +certainly never do so," she said to the child, and the little +girl looked up at her with tender love in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are so good, you could do <i>anything</i>," she whispered, +and clasped the worn hand on which the needle-pricks had +left the marks of many long years of patient sewing. "I +should like to see the paper so much," continued the child, after +a thoughtful pause. "I wish I could walk there, but it is +so long since I walked, and the snow is so deep now," and +she sighed.</p> + +<p>"Some day, if the good God pleases, I will carry you +there," said the workwoman—and the child as she lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +patiently on her little bed, dreamt and dreamt of the +mysterious paper that no one could read, until the longing +to see it became uncontrollable, and her friend the sempstress +promised that she would spare an hour the next day from +her work, and if the sun shone she would carry the invalid +across the Market Place to the old stone Fountain.</p> + +<p>The next morning the child's face was bright with anticipation, +as the woman wrapped her in a warm shawl and +carried her fragile weight down the staircase. The cobblestones +hurt the poor sempstress's feet, and she staggered +under the light burden, but she persevered, for the child's +murmurs of delight rang in her ears—</p> + +<p>"How sweetly the sun shines! How white the snow +looks! How beautiful, how <i>beautiful</i> it is to be alive!"</p> + +<p>When they reached the Fountain the sun shone brightly +upon the Angel's Scroll.</p> + +<p>The workwoman seated herself on one of the swept stone +steps, still holding the child in her arms, and they gazed +long and earnestly at the writing above them.</p> + +<p>Gradually a smile of delight spread across both their +faces. "It is quite, <i>quite</i> easy!" they cried together. +"How is it people have been puzzling so long?"—for as +they looked the crabbed letters unrolled before them, +straightened, and arranged themselves in order, and the +Angel's message was read by the poor workwoman and +the sick child.</p> + +<p>"Love God, and live for others," said the Scroll, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +soft light seemed to stream from it and shed a glow of +happiness right into the hearts of the two who read it. The +air was warmer, the sun shone more brightly, and just by +the foot of the Fountain, pushing through the snow, sprang +one blue head of palest forget-me-not.</p> + +<p>As the letters on the Scroll became plainer and plainer, +the paper slowly rolled up and shrunk away, until it had +disappeared altogether.</p> + +<p>The sempstress carried back the child up the steep staircase, +laid her tenderly on her bed, and hurried away to her +own attic.</p> + +<p>In her absence strange things had happened. The room +was swept and tidy, the flowers were watered, and the piece +of work she had left half done was lying finished on the broad +window seat. The poor woman looked round her in astonishment. +She went downstairs to enquire if any neighbours +had prepared this surprise for her, but they only stared at +her, and told her "she must have left her wits in the Market +Place," and that "that was what came of leaving your own +duties to look after other people's."</p> + +<p>The sempstress did not listen to their taunts, for a song +of joy was welling up in her heart—a song so sweet and +true, it might have been the echo of that sung by the angels. +Never had life seemed so beautiful to her. The ill looks of +the neighbours appeared to her to be smiles of kindness and +love; their hard speeches sounded soft and altered; the +steep stairs to her room were not so steep, her attic not so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +bare and desolate. Life was no longer lonely, for the song +in her heart brought her all the happiness she had ever +hoped for.</p> + +<p>The sick child, too, found the same wonderful change in +all that surrounded her. The aunt with whom she lived, +who had always been so careless and unloving, now seemed +to the child to be kind and gentle. Her aching back was +less painful, her thoughts as she lay on her bed were bright +and happy. The Angel's message had brought sunshine to +the lives of the only two who could read and understand it.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>In time the sick child went to live with the sempstress, +and their love for each other grew and strengthened, and +overflowed in a thousand little acts of kindness to all who +came near them. Their room was filled with brightness. +The birds flew to perch on the window-sill and sing in the +early mornings; flowers bloomed in the cracks of the old +stonework; the sempstress sang as she worked, and whenever +she left her sewing to carry the child out into the +Market Place to breathe the fresh air she would find her +work finished when she returned.</p> + +<p>"It was a happy day that we read the message in the +Market Place," she said to the sick child; "indeed we +have been rewarded generously."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_Scrap_of_Etruscan_Pottery" id="A_Scrap_of_Etruscan_Pottery"></a>A Scrap of Etruscan Pottery.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Deep down in a buried Etruscan tomb there lay a +little three-cornered piece of pottery.</p> + +<p>It had some letters on it and a beautiful man's +head, and had belonged to a King some three thousand +years ago.</p> + +<p>Its only companions were a family of moles; for everything +else had been taken out of the tomb so long ago that no one +remembered anything about it.</p> + +<p>"What a dull life mine is," groaned the piece of pottery. +"No amusement, and no society! It's enough to make one +smash oneself to atoms!"</p> + +<p>"Dull, but safe," replied the Mole, who never took the +least notice of the three-cornered Chip's insults. "And then, +remember the dignity. You have the whole tomb to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Except for you," said the Chip ungraciously.</p> + +<p>"Well, we must live somewhere," said the Mole, quite +unmoved, "and I'm sure we don't interfere. I always bring +up my children to treat you with the greatest respect, in +spite of your being cr-r—br-r—. I <i>should</i> say, not quite so +large as you used to be."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If only you had belonged to a King," sighed the Chip, +"I might have had someone of my own class to talk to."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to belong to a King," said the Mole. +"There's nothing I should dislike more. I am for a Liberal +Government, and no farming."</p> + +<p>"What vulgarity!" cried the Chip.</p> + +<p>"It's a blessing it's dark, and he can't see the children +laughing," thought the Mole-mother, "or I don't know what +would happen."</p> + +<p>"Everything that belonged to a King should be treated +with Royal respect," continued the Chip.</p> + +<p>"As to that, I really haven't time for it," replied the +Mole; "what with putting the children to bed, and getting +them up again, and all my work in the passages, I can't +devote myself to Court life."</p> + +<p>"If you like, you can represent the people," said the +Chip. "<i>I</i> don't mind, only then I can't talk to you."</p> + +<p>"You can read out Royal Decrees, and make laws," said +the Mole; and to herself she added, "It won't disturb me. +I shan't take any notice of them."</p> + +<p>"Who's to be nobles?" said the Chip, crossly. "I'd +rather not do the thing at all, if it can't be done properly!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't be people and nobles too, that's quite +certain," remarked the Mole-mother, as she tidied up her +house. "Besides, the children are too young—they wouldn't +understand."</p> + +<p>"What's it like up above?" enquired the Chip languidly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +after a short pause, for it was almost better to speak to the +Mole, than to nobody. "People still walk on two legs?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," answered the Mole, "there's never any +difference in people, that <i>I</i> can see. They're always exactly +alike, except in tempers."</p> + +<p>The Chip was sitting upon a little stone-heap against one +of the pillars. He fondly imagined it was a Throne; and +the Mole-mother, with the utmost good nature, had never +undeceived him.</p> + +<p>As the last words were spoken, a lump of earth fell from +the roof, flattening out the stone-heap, and the Chip only +escaped destruction by rolling on one side, where he lay +shaking with fright and calling to the Mole-mother to help +him. But the Mole had retired with her family to a place +of safety. She knew what was happening. The tomb was +being opened by a party of antiquarians, and in a few more +minutes the blue sky shone into the darkness, and the three-cornered +piece of pottery was lying wrapped in paper in the +pocket of one of the explorers.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the Chip recovered himself, he found he was +reclining on the velvet floor of a large glass case full of +Etruscan vases. Here was the society he had been pining +for all his life!</p> + +<p>"What are Moles compared to this?" he said to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>self, +and quivered with joy at the thought of the pleasures +before him.</p> + +<p>"How did that broken thing come into our Division?" +enquired a Red Dish with two handles.</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine! The Director put him in just now," +replied a Black Jug. "It's not what we're accustomed to. +Everything in here is perfect."</p> + +<p>The Chip lay for a moment, dumb with horror and +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"I belonged to a King," he gasped at last. "You can +look at the name written on me."</p> + +<p>"You may have names written all over you, for all I care," +said the Dish. "You're a Chip, and no King can make you +anything else"—and she turned away haughtily.</p> + +<p>"And to think that for all those years the Mole-mother +was never once rude to me!" thought the Chip. "She was +a person of <i>real</i> refinement. Whatever shall I do if I have +to be shut up with these ill-bred people?" he groaned +miserably.</p> + +<p>"How the woodwork does creak!" said the Director as +he came up to the glass case, with a young lady to whom he +was showing the treasures of the Museum.</p> + +<p>"That's the most recent discovery," he continued smiling +and pointing to the three-cornered piece of pottery—"All +I found in my last digging."</p> + +<p>"It has a beautiful head on it," said the young lady, "I +should be quite satisfied if I could ever find anything so pretty."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Will you have it?" said the Director of the Museum, +who after all was only a young man; looking at the young +lady earnestly.</p> + +<p>She took the despised Chip in her little hand.</p> + +<p>"Thank you very much. It will be a great treasure," she +said—and looking up at her face, the three-cornered piece of +pottery knew that a happy life was in store for him.</p> + +<hr style='width: 25%;' /> + +<p>"In spite of the rudeness of my own people, I am in the +Museum after all," remarked the Chip, as some months +afterwards he hung on a bracket on the wall of the young +lady's sitting room. "In what a superior position, too! +<i>They</i> only belong to the Director, but <i>I</i> belong to the +Director's wife!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Goats_on_the_Glacier" id="The_Goats_on_the_Glacier"></a>The Goats on the Glacier.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>The Heif Goats lived close to the Heifen Glacier, +one of the largest in Switzerland. In fact, their +Châlet, or the cavern which they christened by +that name, overhung the steepest precipice, and was inaccessible +to anyone except its proprietors.</p> + +<p>"It is such a comfort to be secluded in these disturbed +times," the Goat-mother often remarked to her husband. +"If I lived near a high road I should never know a <i>moment's</i> +happiness. The children are so giddy, they would be gambolling +about round the very wheels of the char-à-bancs, +turning head over heels for halfpence, before I could cry +Goats-i-tivy!"</p> + +<p>The whole glacier valley swarmed with the kin of the +Goat family. There were the bond-slaves who worked for +the peasants, and the free Goats who possessed their own +caves, cultivated their ground industriously, and lived greatly +on the sandwich papers left by tourists in the summer-time.</p> + +<p>"Such a treat, especially the light yellow sort with printing, +that always has crumbs in it," said the Goat-mother. "It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +makes a delicious meal. We generally have it on fête +days."</p> + +<p>The family of the Heif Goats consisted of the Heif-father, +his wife, and their four children, Heinrich, Lizbet, Pyto, and +Lénora.</p> + +<p>The young Goats had been brought up with some severity +by their parents, who had old-fashioned notions with regard +to discipline; and three things had been especially enjoined +upon them from their infancy. Always to speak the truth, +never to mess their clean pinafores, and last, but not least, +<i>never</i> to play with the Chamois!</p> + +<p>"They are too wild and frivolous," the Goat-mother used +to say, with a nod of her frilled cap. "Such very long +springs are in exceedingly bad taste. The Chamois have +<i>no</i> repose of manner."</p> + +<p>Under this system the children grew up very well-behaved. +The daughters worked in the house, the sons helped their +father; and in the evening they all descended to the Glacier +to collect any remnants of food left by the endless stream of +visitors, who all through the summer toiled up to the Eismeer, +and down again to the Inn on the other side of the valley.</p> + +<p>These travellers were a perpetual source of interest and +amusement to the Goat family.</p> + +<p>They could never quite make out what they were doing, +but the Heif-mother finally decided that their journeys must +be some religious or national observance.</p> + +<p>"People would never struggle about on the ice like that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>—tied +to each other with ropes, too!—unless it was a painful +duty," she said. "I consider it very praiseworthy."</p> + +<p>Sometimes the young Goats in their invisible eyrie, would +go off into shouts of merriment as a group of excursionists +crawled slowly into sight; the ladies in their short skirts +and large flapping hats, alpenstock in hand, clinging +desperately to the guides as they ascended every slippery +ice-peak.</p> + +<p>But on these occasions the Goat-mother always reproved +them.</p> + +<p>"Remember," she would say severely, "that because +people are ridiculous you shouldn't be unmannerly. They +can't help their appearance, poor things! They may think +themselves quite as good as we are."</p> + +<p>"Well, at all events, we don't look like <i>that</i>," said Lizbet. +"I am sure you would never allow it."</p> + +<p>The principal news from the outer world was brought to +the Heif family by a Stein-bok pedlar, who wandered about +the country with his wares, and was so popular that he was +a friend of all classes, and supplied even the Chamois with +their groceries and tobacco.</p> + +<p>He generally arrived at the Châlet on the first of every +month, and spread out his wares on the grass plot in front +of the cave, while the Goat-mother and her children walked +up and down, and bargained good-humouredly for anything +they had taken a fancy to.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>It was a bright sunny day, and the Goat-mother sat with +her daughters at the door of the cavern. The Goat-father +had gone off by himself to get some provisions at a village on +the opposite side of the Glacier, and Heinrich and Pyto were +digging in the fields at the back of the Châlet; when the +Stein-bok, in his well-known brown cloth coat, appeared +panting up the narrow pathway.</p> + +<p>Throwing himself down on a stone bench, he tossed his +Tyrolese hat on to the ground, and fanned himself with his +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Herr Stein-bok. You seem exhausted," +said the Goat-mother.</p> + +<p>"I am, ma'am, and well I may be. Five miles with +twenty pounds on my back is no joke, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>"Shall I bring you a glass of lager-beer?" enquired the +Heif-mother.</p> + +<p>"It would be acceptable, ma'am, and then I will tell you my +news. You've heard nothing of the Goat-father, have you?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the Goat-mother. "I am beginning to feel +very nervous. I never knew him to stay away two days before."</p> + +<p>The Stein-bok looked round darkly.</p> + +<p>"I have something to tell you," he whispered. "Prepare +for bad news. The Goat-father has been captured."</p> + +<p>The Heif-mother gave a wild shriek, and fell back upon +Lizbet, who was peeling potatoes in the doorway.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When—where—how—who—what?" she cried frantically. +"Tell me at once, or I shall faint away."</p> + +<p>"Be calm, ma'am," said the Stein-bok soothingly. "I +heard it from the Chamois, who have a habit of bounding +about everywhere, as you know. Your dear husband reached +the middle of the Glacier in safety, when—being hampered +by a satchel and a green cotton umbrella—he fell in attempting +to jump an ice-pinnacle, and sprained his foot so severely +that he was unable to move. Though he bleated loudly for +help, no one came except some huntsmen who were in search +of Chamois. They picked him up, and dragged him to the +Inn on the other side of the valley, where he was locked up +securely in a shed, and there he is at the present moment."</p> + +<p>"My brave Heif in prison! He will never, never survive +it!" cried the Goat-mother, shedding tears in profusion.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes he will, ma'am," replied the Stein-bok, "they're +not going to kill him, their idea is to take him down to the +village."</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> they shall never do!" cried the Heif-mother, starting +up, "not if I go myself to rescue him! Go, Lizbet, and call +your brothers. We must consult together immediately."</p> + +<p>Lizbet darted off, and the Stein-bok continued.</p> + +<p>"I have still something else I must let you know, ma'am. +As our great poet observes—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<span class="i0">'Whenever green food fades away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some dire misfortune comes the self-same day.'<br /></span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> + +<p>In plain words, troubles never come singly. I discovered +while having a friendly game of dominoes with +the Head Chamois, that they intend to seize +upon your house next Tuesday, in the +absence of the Heif-father."</p> + +<p>"And to-day is Friday!" +shrieked the Goat-mother. +"Oh! +this is hard +indeed!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 307px;"> +<img src="images/image143.png" width="307" height="400" alt="The Goats" title="The Goats" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Compose yourself, ma'am, and listen to my advice," +said the Pedlar. "You lock up your house, or leave me in +charge with Lizbet and Lénora, and you and the two other +children start off at once to ask the help of the Goat-king. +He is a mild, humane creature, and will very likely order +out a detachment of the 'Free-will' goats to help to defend +your household."</p> + +<p>"That is the only thing to do," said the Goat-mother +mournfully. "I certainly know the way, for of course I +have always been to the yearly Goat Assembly, but I always +started three days before the meeting, and went down the +back of the mountain, over the slopes. I don't know how +I'm to manage the short cut."</p> + +<p>"Oh, easy enough, ma'am," replied the Stein-bok; "you'll +get on very well. Don't go in goloshes, though, for they +will be sure to catch on the nails. I wouldn't wear my +waterproof mantle either—too large for a walking tour. +Put on a shawl, and tie it round you."</p> + +<p>By this time Heinrich and Pyto had hastily dressed +themselves in out-door costume, and the Goat-mother was +rushing about her house, collecting an extraordinary number +of things, which the Stein-bok had some difficulty in +persuading her not to take with her.</p> + +<p>"<i>Not</i> sugar nippers, ma'am, I <i>beg</i>; or your large work-box, +or the mincing machine! Quite useless on a long journey; +and your best cap you won't want, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"I thought I might perhaps wait a moment in the ante<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>-room +and put it on before entering the presence of Royalty," +bleated the Goat-mother. "But no doubt you know best."</p> + +<p>The luggage was at last reduced to a small leather handbag; +and the Goat-mother, after solemnly bestowing her +blessing on Lizbet and Lénora, and the door-key on the +Stein-bok, set off down the garden path with her children, +upon their adventures.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>Meanwhile, the Goat-father was languishing in a dark +shed attached to the Inn on the other side of the Glacier. +His bleats had failed to attract any attention. In fact the +only person who had heard him at all, had been an old Goat-slave, +who while browsing on the hillside with a bell round +his neck, had been attracted by the cries, and creeping up to +the shed, peeped through a crack to see what could be the +matter.</p> + +<p>"Is there anyone near?" enquired the Goat-father in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"No. There's a party in the Inn, but they are too busy +eating to take any notice of us. I am just loitering here, in +case there should be any pieces of sandwich paper flying +about."</p> + +<p>"Is there any chance of my making my escape?" enquired +the Heif-father. "Are they very watchful people?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Excessively so," replied the old Slave. "I've never +been able to get away for the last ten years."</p> + +<p>The Goat-father groaned. "Then it wouldn't be possible +for you to take a message to my family?"</p> + +<p>"Quite impossible, my dear friend, I assure you. Can't +you find any crack in the shed where you could break +through?"</p> + +<p>"There's <i>nothing</i>," cried the Goat-father. "I've searched +round and round, and the door is as strong and tight as a prison."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll go off and see if I can find a messenger," said +the old Slave good-naturedly. "Perhaps the old fox would +manage it."</p> + +<p>"A fox! Oh, I don't think <i>that</i> would do," said the Heif-father. +"It mightn't be safe for my family."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>he's</i> all right," said the Slave. "He's been in captivity +so long, it's taken all the spirit out of him. He might +live in a farmyard. He's a good-natured creature, too, and +I daresay he'll go to oblige me."</p> + +<p>The Goat-father pulled a band and buckle off his necktie, +and poked it under the door.</p> + +<p>"Not to eat!" he whispered warningly, "but for the fox +to take with him, that my wife may know the message comes +from me; and be quick about it, my good friend, for I really +am positively starving!"</p> + +<p>"All right," said the old Goat, "I'll send the fox off, and +come back in a few minutes to bring you some stale cabbage +leaves."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A friend in need, is a friend indeed!" murmured the +Goat-father; and went to sleep that night with more hope +than he had felt since the moment of his capture.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>"Come along, mother," cried Heinrich, grasping the Heif-mother's +hand as they left the garden before their Châlet, +and commenced the dangerous descent of the mountain.</p> + +<p>Far below them they could see the great stretch of the +dazzlingly white Glacier, with its rents and fissures shining +greenly in the sunshine. On either side rose bare crags +topped with grass, and above all, the snowy summits of +the mountains.</p> + +<p>The first part of the journey led along a narrow pathway, +which the Goat-mother managed very successfully, but when +they came to the precipice on which rough iron spikes had +been driven at long intervals to assist the climber, her heart +failed her, and in spite of her desire to hurry, she entangled +her shawl and dress so constantly on the nails, that her +children began to fear she would never reach the level of +the Glacier.</p> + +<p>At last, however, the little party succeeded in making their +way across the Eismeer, and arrived without further mishap +at the river leading to the Goat-King's Palace.</p> + +<p>This river flowed on the centre of the Glacier, between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +steep banks of transparent ice, every now and again disappearing +into some vast cavern, where it swept with a +hollow echoing under the ice-field.</p> + +<p>"Follow me, mother," said Heinrich. "I see the +entrance to the Palace just in front of us."</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother gathered up her skirts, and assisted by +Pyto, began to scramble down the bank to the side of the +streamlet.</p> + +<p>"Where is the boat kept?" she enquired.</p> + +<p>"In a snowdrift close to the entrance," replied Heinrich. +"Don't jump about near the crevasses, Pyto, and I'll go and +fetch it."</p> + +<p>The boat was soon dragged from its hiding place, and +Heinrich paddled it to the spot where the Goat-mother was +resting on a snow-bank.</p> + +<p>She embarked with some nervousness, clutching desperately +at her handbag. They pushed off, and were immediately +carried by the current through the little round opening of +the cave into the pale green glistening depths of the +mysterious world beyond.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>There was no need for the Heif family to row. They were +swept along past the ice walls, and in a few minutes reached +the Goat-King's landing-place. A small inlet with a flat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +shore, on which were arranged two camp stools and a piece +of red carpet.</p> + +<p>"Here we are at last, dear children," said the Goat-mother. +"What a relief it is, to be sure! Is my bonnet +straight, Pyto? and do pull your blouse down. Your hair is +all standing on end, Heinrich! How I wish the Stein-bok +had allowed me to bring a pocket-comb!"</p> + +<p>The Court Porter, seated in a bee-hive chair, came forward +as soon as he saw them, to ask their business.</p> + +<p>"The Goat-King is at home to-day till five o'clock," he +said. "If you will step this way, I will introduce you +immediately."</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother trembling in every limb—for she had +never had a private interview with Royalty before—clutched +a child in each hand and followed the Porter.</p> + +<p>They passed down two passages, and finally reached a +large ice-grotto, with a row of windows opening on to a wide +crevasse.</p> + +<p>The room was filled with a flickering green light that yet +rendered everything distinctly visible.</p> + +<p>On a carved maple chair on the top of a dais sat the +Goat-King—a snow-white Goat with mauve eyes and beard; +completely surrounded with cuckoo clocks, and festoons of +yellow wood table-napkin rings, and paper-cutters. The +walls seemed to be covered with them, and the pendulums +of the clocks were swinging in every direction.</p> + +<p>"The King thinks it right to patronize native art," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +the Goat-Queen, who with three of the Princesses had come +forward graciously to welcome the visitors.</p> + +<p>"I find the striking rather trying at times, especially as +they don't all do it at once, and sometimes one cuckoo +hasn't finished <i>ten</i> before the others are at <i>twelve</i> again."</p> + +<p>"I wish all the works would go wrong!" muttered one +of the Princesses crossly. "An ice-cavern full of cuckoo +clocks is a poor fate for one of the Royal Family!"</p> + +<p>"We <i>must</i> encourage industries," said the Queen. "It +is a duty of our position. I should rather the industries +were noiseless, but we can't choose."</p> + +<p>"Bead necklaces and Venetian glass would have been +more suitable," said the Princess, who had been very well +educated, "or even brass-work and embroidered table-cloths. +We might have draped the cavern with <i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>At this moment there was a violent whirring amongst the +clocks; doors flew open in all directions, and cuckoos of +every size and description darted out, shook themselves +violently, and the air was filled with such a deafening noise +that the Goat-mother threw her apron over her head, and +the Goat-children buried their ears in her skirts, and clung +round her in terror.</p> + +<p>"Merely four o'clock; nothing to make such a fuss +about," said the Goat-King. "And now, when we can +hear ourselves speak, you shall tell me what you have +come for."</p> + +<p>As the voice of the last cuckoo died away in a series of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +jerks, the Goat-mother advanced, and threw herself on her +knees before the Royal Family, first spreading out her +homespun apron to keep the cold off.</p> + +<p>The King listened to her tale with interest, and his mauve +eyes sparkled.</p> + +<p>"If this is true," he cried fiercely, "the Chamois shall be +crushed! My official pen, Princess; and a large sheet of +note paper!"</p> + +<p>"Rest yourself, petitioner, you must be tired," said the +Queen, and pointed to a row of carved and inlaid Tyrolese +chairs that stood against the wall.</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother and her children seated themselves +gratefully, and as they did so, a burst of music floated upon +the air, several tunes struggling together for the mastery.</p> + +<p>"Yes; it's very unpleasant, isn't it?" said the Goat-Queen, +seeing the expression of surprise and uneasiness that +showed itself on the visitors' faces. "We're obliged to +have all the chairs made like that, to encourage the trade in +musical boxes. I get very tired of it, I assure you, and I often +stand up all day, just for the sake of peace and quietness. +I really <i>dread</i> sitting down!"</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the Goat-King was busily writing, covering his +white paws with ink in the process; and the Queen, in a very +loud voice to make herself heard, was conversing with the +Goat-mother about her household affairs.</p> + +<p>"Supplies are most difficult to procure in this secluded +spot," she said mournfully. "Would you believe me, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +last week we dined <i>every</i> day off boiled Geneva newspapers +and cabbage? So monotonous, and the King gets quite +angry!"</p> + +<p>"I wish we could live on boiled cuckoos!" cried the eldest +Princess, who with her sisters was seated on a bench by the +window, spinning; the pale green light of the Glacier shining +upon their white dresses, and the little brown spinning-wheels +that whirred so rapidly before them.</p> + +<p>"Petitioner, the order is ready," said the King at this +moment, waving a large envelope. "Go straight home, +and send this paper round to all the Goats of the neighbourhood. +It is an order to the 'Free-will' Goats, to arm, +and assemble at your house for the defence of your family, +and the rescue of the Heif-father."</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother curtsied to the ground, kissed the Queen's +hand, and retired with Heinrich and Pyto through the +passages to the landing place.</p> + +<p>At the last moment one of the Princesses came running +after the Goat-mother, to press a cuckoo clock upon her, as +a parting present from the Queen.</p> + +<p>The clock was large, and they had some difficulty in getting +it into the boat, but the Goat-mother did not dare to refuse it.</p> + +<p>With the Porter's help they got off at last, and started +upon the return voyage, Heinrich and Pyto rowing their +hardest; for the current swept through the ice-caves with +such force that the Goat-mother had some difficulty in +steering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>As they came out into the daylight, they saw that +the sun was almost setting, and a faint pink light tinged the +snow-fields, and the tops of the distant mountains.</p> + +<p>"We must hurry, or we shan't be back by nightfall!" +said the Goat-mother nervously; and they landed on an ice-block, +covered up the boat again in its hiding place, and set +off towards home, across the Glacier.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p>The weary travellers almost sank with fatigue as they +stumbled over the rough ice.</p> + +<p>In addition to the handbag, they now had the cuckoo +clock, and though Heinrich had insisted on carrying it +strapped on his back like a knapsack, his mother could see +that he became more and more exhausted, and at last +she determined on taking it from him and carrying it +herself.</p> + +<p>The difficulty was heightened by the fact that the clock +continued to tick, and the cuckoo to bound out of the door +at unexpected moments, startling the Goat-mother so, that +she almost dropped it.</p> + +<p>"It's the shaking that puts its works out," said Heinrich. +"Hold on tight, mother, and we shall get it home safely +at last!"</p> + +<p>"I wish it was at the bottom of the Glacier!" groaned the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Goat-mother, staggering along; her bonnet nearly falling off, +her shawl trailing on the snow behind her.</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Pyto! Careless Goat!" she cried. "Test +the snow-bridges carefully with your alpenstock before you +venture on them!"</p> + +<p>But Pyto, who was young and giddy, went gamboling on; +until suddenly, without even time for a bleat of terror, he +fell crashing through the rotten ice, and disappeared from +view into one of the largest crevasses.</p> + +<p>"Goats-i-tivy!" cried the Goat-mother. "He's gone! +Oh, my darling child, where are you?"</p> + +<p>The cuckoo clock was thrown aside, and she ran to the +edge of the crack and peered down frantically.</p> + +<p>"All right, mother," said a voice, sounding very faint and +hollow, "I've stuck in a hole. Let me down something, and +perhaps I can scramble out again."</p> + +<p>"What have we got to let down?" said the Goat-mother. +"Not a ball of string amongst us! Oh, if ever we go on a +journey again, I'll never, <i>never</i> listen to the Stein-bok."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, we must make the best of what we have," +cried Heinrich. "Take your shawl off and tear it into +strips. We <i>may</i> be able to make a rope long enough to +reach him—anyhow we'll try!"</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother consented eagerly, though her shawl was +one she was particularly fond of. She snatched it off, and taking +out her scissors, she soon cut it into pieces, which Heinrich +knotted one to the other, and lowered into the crevasse.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Can you reach it?" he cried, putting his head as far over +the edge as possible, and peering into the green depths.</p> + +<p>The Goat-mother leant over, too; but in stooping her +head her bonnet became loosened, and slid with a loud +<i>swish</i> down the ice, darting from side to side until it +disappeared from sight in the darkness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what misfortunes! My child, my shawl, and my +bonnet, <i>all</i> gone together!" she cried, wringing her hands. +"Take hold of the rope, my Pyto, and let us at all events +rescue <i>you</i>!"</p> + +<p>"All right, mother," cried the distant voice. "Don't drag +me up till I call out '<i>Pull</i>.'"</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the Goat-mother and Heinrich, listening +intently, heard the welcome shout, and pulling both together +they landed Pyto—very much bruised and shaken, but not +otherwise hurt—upon the Glacier beside them.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a warning!" cried the Goat-mother, and after +embracing Pyto warmly, she turned to look for the cuckoo +clock. But it had tobogganed down a steep bank into an +ice stream close by, and was floating away in the distance, +<i>cuckooing</i> at intervals as it danced up and down upon the +water.</p> + +<p>Two travellers who had just reached the opposite bank, +paused in astonishment to listen.</p> + +<p>"You see," said one, "this proves what I have always +told you. Nothing is impossible to Nature. You may even +hear cuckoos on a Glacier!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + + +<p>The Goat-mother arrived at home in a pitiable state of +cold and exhaustion, but she was much cheered by finding +the house in good order, and a warm supper awaiting her, +prepared by the hands of the careful Stein-bok.</p> + +<p>Lizbet and Lénora immediately started off with the Royal +Order; which was sealed with a large crown of red sealing +wax fastening down a wisp of mauve hair.</p> + +<p>The next morning all the Goats of the neighbourhood +collected in a secret cavern, where they held a patriotic +meeting, and discussed their plans for the rescue and protection +of the Heif-father.</p> + +<p>Six of the strongest and most daring spirits were to start +that afternoon for the Inn on the other side of the Glacier, +while the rest of the Free-will corps would take it in turns +to remain in ambush in the Heif-goat's garden, in case the +Chamois should attempt their raid before the day they had +appointed.</p> + +<p>They all agreed that the corps should be armed to the +teeth, and there was such a demand for sandpaper that the +store in the Stein-bok's pack was soon exhausted.</p> + +<p>"A rusty sword is all the deadlier, when it once gets in," +said the Goat-Lieutenant. "I shan't trouble myself about +petty details."</p> + +<p>The Heif-father rescue party started to cross the Glacier<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +as soon as it became twilight—for they did not wish to +attract attention.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant carried a blunderbuss, but the five privates +were more lightly armed with a collection of rapiers, carving +knives, daggers, spears, and sword-sticks.</p> + +<p>Their uniforms were varied, but each wore a mauve badge +on his hat, with the motto—"Goats and justice."</p> + +<p>After half-an-hour's steady walking they reached the +opposite mountain, and climbing the ladders that led to +the Inn, they skirted the Châlet carefully, hiding behind +the loose rocks and bushes until they were well in the +shadow of the outbuildings.</p> + +<p>"Where are you, Herr Heif?" bleated the Lieutenant in +a low tone. "We are friends. You needn't be alarmed."</p> + +<p>"In here," answered a cautious voice from one of the +larger sheds. "You can't get in, though—there's no hope +of breaking the door open. Iron staples and bars, and the +strongest hinges. How many of you are there?"</p> + +<p>"Six," replied the Lieutenant. "Free-will Goats, armed +to the teeth!"</p> + +<p>"You might look at the place and see if you can find a +crack anywhere," whispered the Goat-father.</p> + +<p>The Lieutenant and his followers walked slowly round +the house, examining it at every point; but it was all built +of strong tree trunks tanned brown by the sunshine. +Suddenly his eye lighted upon a small window. It was +very high up and quite out of reach of anyone within, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +the Lieutenant thought that by standing on something he +might be able to raise himself sufficiently to reach it, and +cut away the glass.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything inside that <i>you</i> could stand upon?" +he enquired.</p> + +<p>There was silence, and a sound of scuffling; then the +voice of the Heif-goat: "I've been examining things, and +there are two barrels. I think I could put one on the top +of the other. They <i>might</i> reach to the window, but it has +two great wooden bars, I couldn't break through."</p> + +<p>"Leave that to us," said the Lieutenant, and he turned +to his followers.</p> + +<p>"Two of you get on each other's shoulders, and then +<i>I</i> will be assisted up. The other three mount in the same +way by my side," he said quickly. "We who are at the +top will cut through the window frame with our knives, +collect the glass, and drag out the Goat-father in no +time."</p> + +<p>This plan was carried out, and in spite of the unsteady +position of the topmost Goats, and the uncomfortable shaking +of the lower ones, the wooden bars were at length sawn +through, and the glass carefully gathered together by the +Lieutenant in his felt hat.</p> + +<p>"Steady!" cried the Lieutenant, "I'm coming down in a +minute, and you're beginning to shake about so, I can hardly +keep my balance. Hi! Do you hear me? Steady, there!"</p> + +<p>"I can't stand this a moment longer—my legs are giving<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +way beneath me!" bleated the lower Goat. "I know I +shall double up!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke his feet slipped from under him, and he fell +full length upon the hillside, carrying the others with him; +and there they all lay in a confused heap, scarcely able to +realize what had happened to them.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, however, no one was seriously hurt. They +picked themselves up and went to work again with renewed +vigour.</p> + +<p>"Climb up now, Herr Heif!" cried the Lieutenant. "Put +your head out, and gradually lower yourself. We'll stand +below and catch you."</p> + +<p>"I'm a little afraid, for I know I should fall heavy!" said +the Goat-father, in a quavering voice; but he did as he was +told, and shutting his eyes firmly, he slipped from the +window-sill and fell with a heavy <i>flop</i> into the arms waiting +to receive him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + + +<p>The Goat-mother had lit a comfortable fire in the Heif +Châlet, and the Goat-father's slippers were warming against +the stove; when a sound of approaching voices and footsteps +made her start up in excited expectation.</p> + +<p>The voices came nearer and nearer. Now she could distinguish +the National Goat Song, and in another moment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +the door flew open, and Herr Heif rushed in accompanied +by his rescuers.</p> + +<p>The children screamed, the Goat-mother wept tears of +joy; and after a general rejoicing, the whole party sat down +to a comfortable meal, during which the Lieutenant's health +was drunk by the Goat-family amidst loud cheering.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry we can't invite the whole <i>corps</i>," said the +Goat-mother. "It's very cold for them outside, but the +fact is I haven't sufficient crockery. As it is, I am forced +to make use of oyster shells and the flower pot, though it's +very much against my principles."</p> + +<p>"Hush!" said the Goat-father, "there's someone knocking!"</p> + +<p>There was indeed a hurried rapping at the door, and one +of the Watch-Goats put in his head to say that the band of +Chamois were seen advancing towards the Châlet.</p> + +<p>The tallow candle was immediately put out, the Lieutenant +and his detachment seized their weapons, and concealed +themselves behind the door, and the Goat-mother and her +children were shut up in an inner room, where they waited +in fear and trembling.</p> + +<p>On came the Chamois with noiseless leaps, bounding into +the garden, and approaching the front door with the utmost +caution. Everything appeared to be turning out according +to their expectations, and they already saw themselves in +imagination seated in the Heif-house, revelling in the +contents of the Goat-mother's store cupboard.</p> + +<p>Their long green coats fluttered in the air, the large<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +bunches of edelweiss in their hats, glistened in the moonlight.</p> + +<p>But a low, clear whistle suddenly sounded.</p> + +<p>Each Goat sprang from his hiding place, and with a rush +that took the Chamois completely by surprise, they fell +upon the invaders, and drove them over the precipice.</p> + +<p>It was a real triumph; for the Chamois flew down the +mountain in the wildest confusion, falling down, and darting +over each other in their hurry, and never stopping until they +had reached their own haunts in the region of the distant +Eismeer.</p> + +<p>"A glorious victory!" cried the Lieutenant, "and not a +drop of blood shed."</p> + +<p>As to the Goat-mother, she had passed through such a +moment of terror that she had to be assisted out of the +back room by three of the guard, and revived with a cabbage +leaf before she could recover herself. She then embraced +everyone all round, and the Goat-father broached a barrel +of lager-beer; while the tame Fox from the Inn (who had +appeared at the Châlet soon after the departure of the +rescue party) ran about supplying the visitors with +tumblers.</p> + +<p>The next day the Free-will Goats were disbanded, and +returned to their homes; after receiving in public the thanks +of the Goat-King for their distinguished behaviour, and a +carved matchbox each "For valour in face of the horns of +the enemy."</p> + +<p>The Stein-bok Pedlar was begged to make his home at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +Heif Châlet, but he loved his wandering life too much to +settle down.</p> + +<p>"Keep the tame Fox instead of me, ma'am," he said, as +he shook hands warmly with his friends at parting. "The +poor creature is miserable in captivity."</p> + +<p>He then made the Goat-mother a handsome present of +all his remaining groceries, and departed once more upon +his travels.</p> + +<p>That same afternoon a special messenger from the Goat-King +arrived with an inlaid musical chair, "as a slight token +of regard," for the Heif-father.</p> + +<p>"Well, at all events, it's better than a cuckoo clock," said +the Goat-mother resignedly, "but let me warn you seriously +<i>never to sit down upon it</i>! I know its ways, and though kindly +meant, I should have preferred paper-knives!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Great_Ladys_Chief-Mourner" id="The_Great_Ladys_Chief-Mourner"></a>The Great Lady's Chief-Mourner.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>It was a large white house that stood on a hill. In +front stretched a beautiful garden full of all kinds +of rare flowers, on to which opened the windows +of the sitting-rooms.</p> + +<p>Everything was handsome and stately, and the lady who +owned it was handsomer and statelier than her house.</p> + +<p>In her velvet dress she sat under the shade of a sweeping +cedar tree; with a crowd of obsequious relations round her, +trying to anticipate her lightest wishes.</p> + +<p>"How nice it must be to be rich," thought the little +kitchen-maid as she looked out through the trellis work that +hid the kitchens at the side of the great house. "How +happy my mistress must be. How much I should like to +try just for one day what it feels like!"—and she went back +with a sigh to her work in the gloomy kitchen.</p> + +<p>Through the latticed window she could see nothing but +the paved yard, and an old tin biscuit box that stood on +the window-sill, and contained two little green shoots +sprouting up from the dark mould.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> + +<p>This little ugly box was the kitchen-maid's greatest treasure. +Every day she watered it and watched over it, for she had +brought the seeds from the tiny garden of her own home, +and many sunny memories clustered about them. She was +always looking forward to the day when the first blossoms +would unfold, and now it really seemed that two buds were +forming on the slender stems. The little kitchen-maid +smiled with joy as she noticed them.</p> + +<p>"I shall have flowers, too!" she said to herself hopefully.</p> + +<p>One day, as the mistress of the house walked on the +terrace by the vegetable garden, the little kitchen-maid came +past suddenly with a basket of cabbages. She smiled and +curtsied so prettily that the great lady nodded to her kindly, +and threw her a beautiful red rose she carried in her hand.</p> + +<p>The kitchen-maid could hardly believe her good fortune. +She picked up the flower and ran with it to her bedroom, +where she put it in a cracked jam-pot in water; and the +whole room seemed full of its fragrance—just as the little +kitchen-maid's heart was all aglow with gratitude at the +kind act of the great lady.</p> + +<p>Time passed, and the little kitchen-maid's rose withered; +but the slender plants in the tin box expanded into flower, +and all the yard seemed brighter for their white petals.</p> + +<p>One day the mistress of the house fell ill. Doctors went +and came, crowds of relations besieged the house, an air of +gloom hung over the bright garden.</p> + +<p>The little kitchen-maid waited anxiously for news; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +tears rolled down her face as she heard the Church bell +tolling for the death of the great lady.</p> + +<p>A grand funeral started from the white house on the hill. +Carriages containing relations, who tried vainly to twist +their faces into an expression of the grief they were supposed +to be feeling.</p> + +<p>Wreaths of the purest hot-house flowers covered the +coffin—wreaths for which the relations had given large +sums of money; but not one woven with sorrowful care by +the hand of a real lover.</p> + +<p>The sod was patted down, the dry-eyed mourners departed; +and some square yards of bare earth were all that +now belonged to the great lady.</p> + +<p>When everyone had left, the little kitchen-maid crept +from behind some bushes, where she had been hiding.</p> + +<p>Her face was tear-stained, and she carried in her hand two +slender white flowers.</p> + +<p>They were the plants grown with such loving care in the +old tin box on the window-sill; and she laid them with a +sigh amongst the rich wreaths and crosses.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, dear mistress! I have nothing else to bring +you," she whispered; and never dreamed that her gift had +been the most beautiful of any—her simple love and tears.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Dame_Fossies_China_Dog" id="Dame_Fossies_China_Dog"></a>Dame Fossie's China Dog.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p>Granny Pyetangle lived in a little thatched +cottage, with a garden full of sweet-smelling, old-fashioned +flowers. It was one of a long row of +other thatched cottages that bordered the village street. +At one end of this was the Inn, with a beautiful sign-board +that creaked and swayed in the wind; at the other, Dame +Fossie's shop, in which brandy-balls, ginger-snaps, balls of +string, tops, cheese, tallow candles, and many other useful +and entertaining things were neatly disposed in a small +latticed window.</p> + +<p>All Granny Pyetangle's relations were dead; and she lived +quite alone with her little grandson 'Zekiel, who had been a +mingled source of pride and worry to her, ever since he left +off long-clothes and took to a short-waisted frock with a +wide frill round the neck, that required constant attention in +the way of washing and ironing.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel's favourite place to play in was Granny Pyetangle's +cottage doorway.</p> + +<p>A board had been put up to prevent him rolling out on to +the cobblestone pavement; and this board though very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +irritating to 'Zekiel in many ways—as preventing him from +straying down the road and otherwise enjoying himself—was +yet not to be despised, as he soon discovered, when he was +learning to walk.</p> + +<p>It was one of the few things he could grasp firmly, without +its immediately sliding away, doubling up, turning head over +heels, or otherwise throwing him violently down on the brick +floor of the kitchen—before he knew what had happened +to him!</p> + +<p>Granny Pyetangle frequently went to have a chat with +Dame Fossie, her large sun-bonnet shading her wrinkled +old face, a handkerchief crossed neatly over her print bodice. +On these occasions 'Zekiel accompanied his grandmother, +hanging on to her skirts affectionately with one hand, whilst +he waved a crust of brown bread in the other—a crust which +he generally carried concealed about his person, for the two-fold +purpose of assisting through his teeth and amusing +himself at every convenient opportunity.</p> + +<p>Whilst Granny Pyetangle discussed the affairs of the +neighbours, 'Zekiel would sit on the floor by her side contentedly +sucking his crust, and looking with awe upon the +contents of the shop. Such a collection of good things +seemed a perfect fairy-tale to him, and he would often settle +in his own mind what he would have when he grew up and +had pence to rattle about in his trousers' pocket, like Eli +and Hercules Colfox.</p> + +<p>Like most children in short petticoats, who—contrary to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +the generally-received idea—are constantly meditating on +every subject that comes under their notice; 'Zekiel had +his own ideas about Granny Pyetangle and her friend Dame +Fossie.</p> + +<p>His grandmother ought to have spent more of her money +on peppermint-cushions, tin trumpets, and whip-tops, and +less on those uninteresting household stores; and Dame +Fossie should have remembered that crusts are poor work +when brandy-snaps and gingerbread are spread before you, +and ought more frequently to have bestowed a biscuit on +the round-eyed 'Zekiel, as he played with the cat, or poked +pieces of stick between the cracks of the floor when Granny +Pyetangle wasn't looking.</p> + +<p>Though 'Zekiel had no brothers and sisters, he had a great +many friends, the chief of which were Eli and Hercules +Colfox, his next door neighbours, who were very kind and +condescending to him in spite of the dignity of their +corduroy trousers.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel had a way of ingratiating himself with everyone, +and of getting what he wanted, that inspired the slower-witted +Eli and Hercules with awe and admiration; until one +day he took it into his head to long for Dame Fossie's celebrated +black and white spotted china dog!</p> + +<p>All the village knew this dog, for it had stood for years +on a shelf above the collection of treasures in the shop +window. It was not an ordinary china dog such as you +can see in any china shop now-a-days, but one of the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>-fashioned +kind, on which the designer had (like the early +masters) expended all his art upon the dignity of expression +without harassing himself with petty details.</p> + +<p>Proudly Dame Fossie's dog looked down upon the world, +sitting erect, with his golden padlock and chain glittering in +any stray gleams of sunshine; his white coat evenly spotted +with black, his long drooping ears, neat row of carefully-painted +black curls across the forehead, and that proud smile +which, though the whole village had been smitten down +before him, would still have remained unchangeable.</p> + +<p>It was this wonderful superiority of expression that had +first attracted 'Zekiel as he played about on the floor of +Dame Fossie's parlour.</p> + +<p>The china dog never looked at him with friendly good-fellowship, +like the other dogs of the village. It never +wanted to share his crusts, or upset him by running up +against his legs just as he thought he had mastered the +difficulties of "walking like Granny!"</p> + +<p>It was altogether a strangely attractive animal, and +'Zekiel, from the time he could first indistinctly put a +name to anything, had christened it the "Fozzy-gog" out +of compliment to its owner, Dame Fossie—and the "Fozzy-gog" +it remained to him, and to the other children of the +village, for ever after.</p> + +<p>When 'Zekiel was nearly six years of age Granny Pyetangle +called him up to her, and asked what he would like for +his birthday present.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Zekiel sat down on a wooden stool in the chimney corner, +where the iron pot hung, and meditated deeply.</p> + +<p>"Eli and Hercules to tea, and a Fozzy-gog to play with," +he said at last—and Granny Pyetangle smiled and said she +would see what she could do—"'Zekiel was a good lad, and +deserved a treat."</p> + +<p>'Zekiel's birthday arrived, and the moment he opened his +eyes he saw that his grandmother had redeemed her promise.</p> + +<p>On a rush chair beside his pillow stood the very double +of the Fozzy-gog!—yellow eyes, gold collar and padlock, +black spots, and all complete!</p> + +<p>'Zekiel sprang up, and scrambled into his clothes as +quickly as possible. He danced round Granny Pyetangle +in an ecstasy of delight, and scarcely eat any breakfast, he +was in such a hurry to show his treasure to his two friends.</p> + +<p>As he handed it over the low hedge that separated the +two gardens he felt a proud boy, but Eli did not appear so +enthusiastic as 'Zekiel expected. He said that "chaney +dogs was more for Grannies nor for lads," and that if he +had been in 'Zekiel's place he would have chosen a fine +peg-top.</p> + +<p>Poor 'Zekiel was disappointed. The tears gathered in +his eyes. He hugged the despised china dog fondly to him, +and carried it indoors to put in a place of honour in Granny +Pyetangle's oak corner-cupboard—where it looked out proudly +from behind the glass doors, in company with the best tea-cups, +a shepherdess tending a woolly lamb, two greyhounds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +on stony-white cushions, and Grandfather Pyetangle's horn +snuff-box.</p> + +<p>Time passed on, and 'Zekiel's petticoats gave place to +corduroy breeches, but his devotion to the china dog never +waned. He would talk to it, and tell it all his plans and +fancies, and several times he almost persuaded himself that +it wagged its tail and nodded to him. In fact, he was quite +sure that when Granny Pyetangle was ill that winter, the +china dog was conscious of the fact, and looked at him with +its yellow eyes full of compassion and sympathy.</p> + +<p>Poor Granny Pyetangle was certainly very ill. She had +suffered from rheumatism for many years, and was sometimes +almost bent double with it; but that autumn it came +on with increased violence, and 'Zekiel, who nursed his old +grandmother devotedly, had to sit by the bed-side for hours +giving her medicine, or the food a neighbour prepared for +her, just as she required it.</p> + +<p>Granny Pyetangle was sometimes rather cross in those +days, and would scold poor 'Zekiel for "clumping in his +boots" and "worritting"—but 'Zekiel was very patient.</p> + +<p>"Sick people <i>is</i> wearing at times," said Dame Fossie. +"Come you down to me sometimes, 'Zekiel, and I'll let you +play with my chaney dog. It isn't fit as young lads should +be cooped up always!"—and when Granny Pyetangle had +a neighbour with her, 'Zekiel gladly obeyed.</p> + +<p>One evening he ran down the village street with a smile +on his face, and a new penny in his pocket. Squire Hancock<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +had given it to him for holding his horse, and he was +going to spend it at Dame Fossie's on a cake for his +grandmother.</p> + +<p>Twilight was falling, yet Dame Fossie's shop was not +lighted up; which was strange, as a little oil lamp generally +burned in the window as soon as it grew dusk.</p> + +<p>The shop door was shut and locked, and 'Zekiel ran round +to the back, and climbing on the edge of the rain-water butt, +he peered over the white dimity blind, into the silent kitchen.</p> + +<p>No one was there, and yet Dame Fossie must be somewhere +in the house, for he distinctly heard sounds of +thumping and scraping going on upstairs.</p> + +<p>"I'll get in through the window, and surprise her!" +said 'Zekiel; and as one of the latticed panes was unfastened +he proceeded to push it gently open, and creep in on to +the table that stood just beneath it.</p> + +<p>He unlatched the kitchen door, and stole up the ricketty +staircase.</p> + +<p>The sounds continued, but more loudly. Evidently there +was a house-cleaning going on, and 'Zekiel supposed this +was why Dame Fossie had been deaf to his repeated +knockings. He lifted the latch of the room from which the +noise proceeded, and peeping cautiously in, beheld such a +strange sight that he remained rooted to the ground with +astonishment.</p> + +<p>Dame Fossie's furniture was piled up in one corner—the +oak bureau, and the rush-bottomed chairs, inside the four<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>-post +bedstead. A pail of water stood in the middle of the +floor; and close by was the Fozzy-gog himself, with a mop +between his paws, working away with the greatest energy.</p> + +<p>He was about four times his ordinary size, as upright as +'Zekiel himself, and was directing the work of several other +china dogs; amongst whom 'Zekiel immediately recognized +his own property, Granny Pyetangle's birthday present!</p> + +<p>Everyone seemed to be too busy to notice 'Zekiel as he +stood half in the doorway. Two of the dogs were scouring +the floor with a pair of Dame Fossie's best scrubbing +brushes, another was dusting the ceiling with a feather +broom; whilst several, seated round the four-post bedstead, +were polishing it with bees' wax and "elbow-grease." They +all listened to the Fozzy-gog with respectful attention, as +he issued his directions; for he was evidently a person in +authority.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to 'Zekiel to be surprised that all the +dogs were chatting together in very comprehensible Dorsetshire +English. To see them actually living, and moving +about, was such an extraordinary thing that it swallowed up +every other feeling, even that of fear.</p> + +<p>"Make haste, my good dogs! Put the furniture straight, +and have all ready. Dame Fossie will be returning soon, +and we must be back on our shelves before her key turns," +said the Fozzy-gog cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The dogs all worked with renewed energy, and before +'Zekiel could collect his scattered wits enough to retreat or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +hide himself, the room was in perfect order, and out trooped +the china dogs carrying the buckets, brooms, and brushes, +they had been using.</p> + +<p>As they caught sight of 'Zekiel, the Fozzie-gog jumped +several feet into the air.</p> + +<p>"What! 'Zekiel spying upon us!" he screamed angrily. +"Bring the lad into the kitchen. We must examine into +this," and he clattered down the steep stairs with his mop +into the wash-house.</p> + +<p>Poor 'Zekiel followed trembling. His own dog had crept +up to him, and slipped one paw into his hand, whispering +hurriedly, "Don't be downhearted, 'Zekiel. Never contradict +him, and he will forgive you in a year or two!"</p> + +<p>"A year or two!" thought 'Zekiel wretchedly. "And +never contradict him, indeed! when he says I was spying +on him. A likely thing!" and he clung to his friend, and +dragged him in with him into the kitchen.</p> + +<p>The Fozzy-gog sat in Dame Fossie's high-backed chair +in the chimney corner, the other china dogs grouped around +him. It reminded 'Zekiel of the stories of Kings and their +Courts, and no doubt the Fozzy-gog <i>was</i> a king—in his +own opinion at least.</p> + +<p>He questioned 'Zekiel minutely as to how he happened to +come there so late in the evening; and to all the questions +'Zekiel answered most truthfully.</p> + +<p>The frown on the Fozzy-gog's face relaxed more and +more—an amiable smile began to curl the corners of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +mouth, and he extended his paw in a dignified manner +towards 'Zekiel, who felt like a prisoner reprieved.</p> + +<p>"We forgive you, 'Zekiel! You have always been a good +friend to us, and your own dog speaks well of you," said the +Fozzy-gog benignly. "You must give us your word you +will never mention what you have seen. In the future we +must be china dogs to you, and <i>nothing more</i>; but in return +for this you may ask one thing of us, and, if possible, we will +grant it."</p> + +<p>'Zekiel hesitated. Wild possibilities of delight in the shape +of ponies and carts flitted rapidly through his mind, and then +the remembrance of Granny Pyetangle, lying ill and suffering +on her bed in the little sloping attic, drove everything else +from his mind.</p> + +<p>"I want my poor old Granny to be well again," he said, +looking the Fozzy-gog bravely in the face—"and I don't +want naught else. If you'll do that, I'll promise anything—that's +to say, anything in reason," added 'Zekiel, who +prided himself on this diplomatic finish to his sentence—which +was one he had frequently heard his grandmother +make use of in moments of state and ceremony.</p> + +<p>The Fozzy-gog appeared to be favourably impressed by +'Zekiel's request. He rose from his chair, and waved his +paw graciously.</p> + +<p>"We dismiss this gathering!" he cried. "And you, +Pyetangle"—pointing to 'Zekiel's china dog—"take your +master home, and bring him to our meeting at the cross-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>roads +to-morrow at midnight. Do not fail. Farewell!"</p> + +<p>As he spoke the Fozzy-gog shrank and stiffened. His +black curls acquired their usual glaze, and he had just time +to jump upon the shelf above the shop window, before he +froze into his immovable china self again.</p> + +<p>The other dogs disappeared through the open kitchen +casement; and 'Zekiel found himself in the village street +without in the least knowing how he got there!</p> + +<p>It was almost dark as he ran home, but as he swung open +the garden gate, he fancied he saw something white standing +exactly in the centre of the pathway. He was sure he +heard a faint barking, and a voice whispered—"Wait a +minute, 'Zekiel, I want to talk to you." 'Zekiel retreated a +step, and sat down gasping on a flower bed.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you," repeated the little voice.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel craned forward, though he was trembling with +fright, and saw in the fast gathering shadows his own china +dog, standing beside Granny Pyetangle's favourite lavender +bush—though how it managed to get there so quickly he +could not imagine! He stretched out his hand to stroke +it, and started up, as instead of the cold china, he felt the +soft curls of a fluffy fur coat.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what it all means! Oh, do'ee, now!" said +'Zekiel, almost crying.</p> + +<p>The china dog sat down by 'Zekiel's side, and putting one +paw affectionately on his knee, looked up in his face, with +his honest yellow eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The Fozzy-gog has commissioned me to explain all +about it," he said confidentially. "So don't be frightened, +and no harm will come of it! Twice every month (if we can +escape unobserved) we take the form of ordinary dogs, and +meet together to amuse ourselves, or to work for our owners. +There are many of us in the village, and as the Fozzy-gog +is our ruler, we are bound to obey him, and to work more +for old Dame Fossie than for anybody else. Yesterday we +knew she was going to visit her married daughter. We +determined to have a thorough house-cleaning, and were +just in the midst of it when you came in! It was a good +thing the Fozzy-gog happened to be in a good temper, +and knew you well! We have never before been discovered. +He is a hasty temper, and it certainly <i>was</i> irritating!"</p> + +<p>'Zekiel began to recover from his terror, and grasped the +china dog by the paw. He felt proud to think that his ideas +about china dogs had proved true. They were not merely +"chaney"—as Eli and Hercules contemptuously expressed +it; but were really as much alive as he was himself, +after all!</p> + +<p>"However did you manage to get out of Granny Pyetangle's +cupboard?" enquired 'Zekiel, curiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I put those lazy greyhounds and the shepherdess at +it," replied the china dog. "They worked all night, and +managed to undo the latch early this afternoon. They're +bound to work for me like all the inferior china things," and +he shook his head superciliously.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And now," said 'Zekiel, "please tell me how the Fozzy-gog +is going to get my Granny well."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that I mayn't tell you," said the china dog. "You +must come with me to-morrow night to the Dog-wood, and +you will hear all about it."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he began to shrink and stiffen in the same +remarkable way as the Fozzy-gog, and a moment after he +was standing in his ordinary shape in the centre of the +cobblestone pathway.</p> + +<p>The moonlight shone upon his quaint little figure and the +golden padlock at his neck. 'Zekiel sprang up just as the +cottage door opened, and a neighbour came out calling, +"'Zekiel! 'Zekiel! Drat the lad! Where be you gone to?"</p> + +<p>'Zekiel tucked the china dog under his arm and hurried +in, receiving a good scolding from Granny Pyetangle and +her friend for "loitering," but he felt so light-hearted and +cheerful, the hard words fell round him quite harmlessly.</p> + +<p>"Granny 'll be well to-morrow! Granny 'll be well to-morrow!" +he kept repeating to himself over and over +again, and he ran into the kitchen just before going to +bed to make sure the things in the corner cupboard were +safely shut away for the night.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel hardly knew how he got through the next day, so +impatient was he for the evening. Granny Pyetangle was +certainly worse. The neighbours came in and shook their +heads sadly over her, and Dame Fossie hobbled up from +her shop and offered to spend the night there, as it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +"no' fit for young lads to have such responsibilities"—and +this offer 'Zekiel eagerly accepted.</p> + +<p>As soon as it grew dusk, he unlatched the door of the oak +cupboard; and then being very tired—for he had worked +hard since daylight—he sat down in Granny Pyetangle's large +chair, and in a minute was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by a series of pulls at his smock-frock; +and starting up he saw that it was quite dark, except for the +glow of a few ashes on the hearth-stone, and that the china +dog, grown to the same size as he had been the evening before, +was trying to arouse him.</p> + +<p>"Wake up, 'Zekiel!" he said in a low voice. "Dame +Fossie is upstairs with your Granny, and we must be off."</p> + +<p>'Zekiel rubbed his eyes, and taking his cap down from a +peg, and tying a check comforter round his neck, he followed +the china dog from the kitchen, and closed and latched the +door behind him.</p> + +<p>Out in the moonlit street, the china dog kept as much as +possible in the shadow of the houses; 'Zekiel following, his +hob-nailed boots <i>click</i>, <i>clicking</i> against the rough stones as he +stumbled sleepily along.</p> + +<p>They soon left the village behind them, and plunged into a +wood, which, stretching for miles across hill and dale, was +known to be a favourite haunt of smugglers.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel instantly became very wide awake indeed, and +unpleasant cold shivers ran down his back, as he thought +he saw black and white forms gliding amongst the trees,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +and yellow eyes glancing at him between the bare branches.</p> + +<p>"It isn't smugglers. It's the dogs galloping to the +meeting place," said the china dog, who seemed able to +read 'Zekiel's thoughts in a very unnatural manner.</p> + +<p>They soon left the rough pathway they had been following, +and 'Zekiel, clinging to the china dog's paw, found himself +in the densest part of the wood, which was only dimly +lighted by a few scattered moonbeams.</p> + +<p>"We are getting near the Dog-wood now," said the china +dog as they hurried on, and in another moment they came +out on to the middle of a clearing, round which a dense +thicket of red-stemmed dog-wood bushes grew in the greatest +luxuriance.</p> + +<p>In the centre was a large square stone, like a stand; on +which sat the Fozzy-gog, surrounded by about fifty china +dogs of all shapes and sizes, but each one with a gold +padlock and chain round his neck, without which none were +admitted to the secret society of the "Fozzy-gogs."</p> + +<p>'Zekiel was drawn reluctantly into the magic circle, while +every dog wagged his tail as a sign of friendly greeting.</p> + +<p>The Fozzy-gog nodded graciously, and immediately the +dogs commenced a wild dance, with many leaps and bounds; +round the stone on which their ruler was seated.</p> + +<p>The moonlight shone brightly on their glancing white +coats; and behind rustled the great oak trees, their boughs +twisted into fantastic forms, amidst which the wind whistled +eerily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<p>'Zekiel shuddered as he looked at the strange scene, and +longed sincerely to be back again in his little bed at Granny +Pyetangle's.</p> + +<p>"However, it won't do to show I'm afraid, or don't like +it," he said to himself, so he capered and hopped with the +others until he was quite giddy and exhausted, and forced to +sit down on a grassy bank to recover himself.</p> + +<p>"The trees are playing very well to-night," said a dog as +he skipped by. "Come and have another dance?" and he +flew round and round like a humming top.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel shook his head several times. He was so out of +breath he could only gasp hurriedly—"No, no! No more, +thank you!" but his friend had already disappeared.</p> + +<p>The Fozzy-gog now approached him. He carried something +in his paw, which he placed in 'Zekiel's hand.</p> + +<p>"Put this on Grandmother Pyetangle's forehead when you +return to-night—promise that you will keep silence for ever +about what you have seen—and to-morrow she will be +well!"</p> + +<p>"I promise," said 'Zekiel. "Oh, Fozzy-gog! I'll never +forget it!"</p> + +<p>"No thanks," said the Fozzy-gog. "I like deeds more +than words. Pyetangle shall take you home."</p> + +<p>He beckoned to 'Zekiel's dog, who came up rather sulkily—and +'Zekiel found himself outside the magic circle, and well +on his way home, almost before he could realize that they +had started!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>As he entered Granny Pyetangle's little garden, he saw that +a light was still burning in her attic.</p> + +<p>He went softly into the kitchen. It was quite dark, but a +ray of moonlight enabled him to see the china dog open the +cupboard; and, rapidly shrinking, place himself on his +proper shelf again.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel then took off his boots, ran up the creaking stairs, +and tapped softly at Granny Pyetangle's bedroom. No one +answered, so he pushed open the door.</p> + +<p>Dame Fossie sat sleeping peacefully in a large rush-bottomed +chair by the fireplace—and Granny Pyetangle, on +her bed under the chintz curtains, was sleeping too.</p> + +<p>'Zekiel laid the Fozzy-gog's leaf carefully on her forehead, +and creeping from the room, threw himself on his own little +bed, and was soon as fast asleep as the two old women.</p> + +<p>The next morning, when Granny Pyetangle awoke, she +said she felt considerably better, and so energetic was she +that Dame Fossie had great difficulty in persuading her not +to get up.</p> + +<p>Dame Fossie tidied up the place, and was much annoyed +to find a dead leaf sticking to Granny Pyetangle's scanty +grey hair. "How a rubbishy leaf o' dog-wood came to get +there, is more nor <i>I</i> can account for," she said crossly, as +she swept it away into the fire, before 'Zekiel could interfere +to rescue it.</p> + +<p>Granny Pyetangle's recovery was wonderfully rapid. +Every day she was able to do a little more, and 'Zekiel's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +triumph was complete when he was allowed to help her +down the stairs into the kitchen, and seat her quavering, +but happy, on the great chair in the chimney corner.</p> + +<p>"Well, it do seem pleasant to be about agin," said Granny +Pyetangle, smoothing her white linen apron. "No'but you +have kept the place clean, 'Zekiel, like a good lad. There's +those things in corner cupboard as bright as chaney can be! +and that chaney dog o' yours sitting as life-like as you please! +It wouldn't want much fancy to say he was wagging his tail +and looking at me quite welcoming!"</p> + +<p>The wood fire blazed and crackled, the kettle sang on its +chain in the wide chimney. Granny Pyetangle was almost +well, and quite happy; and 'Zekiel felt his heart overflowing +with gratitude towards the Fozzy-gog.</p> + +<p>"I'll never forget him. Never!" said 'Zekiel to himself, +"and I wouldn't tell upon him not if anyone was to worrit +me ever so!"—and indeed he never did.</p> + +<p>Years passed, and Dame Fossie's shop was shut, and Dame +Fossie herself was laid to rest. Her daughter inherited most +of her possessions; but—"to my young friend 'Zekiel Pyetangle, +I will and bequeath my china dog, hoping as he'll be +a kind friend to it," stood at the end of the sheet of paper +which did duty as her will. And so 'Zekiel became the owner +of the Fozzy-gog after all!</p> + +<p>Granny Pyetangle has long since passed away, but the +little thatched cottage is still there, with the garden full of +lavender bushes and sweet-smelling flowers. From the glass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +door of the corner cupboard the Fozzy-gog and his companion +look out upon the world with the same inscrutable expression; +and 'Zekiel himself, old and decrepit, but still cheerful, +may at this moment be sitting in the cottage porch, watching +his little grandchildren play about the cobblestone pathway, +or talking over old times with Eli and Hercules Colfox, who, +hobbling in for a chat, take a pull at their long pipes, and +bemoan the inferiority of everything that does not belong to +the time when "us were all lads together."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Princess_Sidigundas_Golden_Shoes" id="Princess_Sidigundas_Golden_Shoes"></a>Princess Sidigunda's Golden Shoes.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Princess Sidigunda lived with her parents in +a beautiful old castle by the sea. It was so near +that the royal gardens sloped down gradually to +the shore, and from its battlements—where the little Princess +was allowed to walk sometimes on half-holidays—she could +watch the ships with their gaily-painted prows and golden +dragons' heads, sweeping over the water in quest of new +lands and fresh adventures.</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda was an only child, and at her christening +every gift you can imagine had been showered upon her.</p> + +<p>The Trolls of the Woods gave her beauty; the Trolls of +the Water, a free, bright spirit; the Mountain-Trolls, good +health; and last, but not least, her chief Godfather, the +Troll of the Seashore, had given her a beautiful little pair +of golden slippers.</p> + +<p>"Never let the child take them off her feet," said the old +Troll. "As long as she keeps them she will be happy. If +ever they are lost the Princess's troubles will begin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But they will grow too small for her!" said the Queen +anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, they won't!" said the old Troll. "They will +grow as she grows, so you needn't trouble about that."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 370px;"> +<img src="images/image186.png" width="370" height="400" alt="The Princess." title="The princess." /> +</div> + +<p>Time went on, and the little Princess grew to be ten +years old.</p> + +<p>The old Troll's promise was fulfilled, and her life had been +a perfectly happy one. Watched by her faithful nurse, she +had never had any opportunity of losing her magic shoes;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +and though she often bathed and played about the shore +with her young companions, she was never allowed to be +without one of her attendants, in case she should forget +her Godfather's caution.</p> + +<p>One fine summer afternoon, the Princess, with some of +her friends, ran down to the sands from the little gate in the +castle wall.</p> + +<p>The sea looked green and beautiful, light waves curling +over on the narrow strip of yellow shore.</p> + +<p>"Let's wade!" cried the Princess. "My nurse is ill in +bed, and my two ladies think we are playing in the garden. +We'll have a little treat of being alone, and enjoy ourselves!"</p> + +<p>"We must take our slippers off," said one of the children, +as they raced along.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish <i>I</i> could!" cried the Princess. "I don't +believe <i>once</i> would matter. I'll put them in a safe place +where the sea can't get at them," and as she spoke she +pulled off her golden shoes, and hid them in a great hurry +behind a sand-bank.</p> + +<p>The Princess's little friends ran off laughing; while she +followed, her hair streaming, her bare feet twinkling in the +sunlight.</p> + +<p>"How nice it is to be free, without those tiresome shoes!" +cried the Princess.</p> + +<p>The children paddled in the water until they were tired, +and then Sidigunda thought it was time to put on her +slippers again. She ran to the bank, but gave a cry of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +astonishment—she could only find one of her golden shoes! +Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked about her wildly.</p> + +<p>"Oh what shall I do?" she cried. "My shoe! My +Godfather's shoe!"</p> + +<p>The children gathered round her eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It must be there. Who can have taken it?"</p> + +<p>They searched the low sand dunes up and down, but not +a trace of the lost slipper could be found. It was gone as +entirely as if it had never existed; and as the Princess drew +on the remaining one, the tears rolled down her face, and +fell upon the sand-hill by which she was sitting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Godfather! dear Godfather! come and help me!" +she wailed. "Do come and help me!"</p> + +<p>At her cry, the sand-hill began to quiver and shake +strangely. It heaved up, and an old man's head, with a +long grey beard, appeared in the middle; followed slowly by +a little brown-coated body.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, God-daughter? Your tears trickled +down to me and woke me up, just as I was comfortably +sleeping," he said querulously. "They're saltier than the +sea, and I can't stand them."</p> + +<p>"My shoe's gone! Oh! whatever am I to do? I'm <i>so</i> +sorry, Godfather!"</p> + +<p>"So you ought to be!" said the old man sharply. "I +told you something bad would happen if you ever took them +off. The question is now, Where's the shoe gone to?"</p> + +<p>He leant his elbows on the mound, and looked out to sea.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just what I thought!" he exclaimed. "The Sea-children +have taken it for a boat. I <i>must</i> speak to the Sea-grandmother +about them, and get her to keep them in better order."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's gone then, and I shall never get it back again!" +wept the Princess. "What am I to do, Godfather?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;"> +<img src="images/image189.png" width="347" height="400" alt="Godfather." title="Godfather." /> +</div> + +<p>"Have you courage enough to go and find your shoe by +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"If that's the only way to get it back," said the Princess +bravely.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you must start immediately, or the Sea-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>children +will have hidden it away somewhere. You will be +obliged to have a passport, but I'll tell you how to get that. +Take this veil"—and he drew a thin, transparent piece of +silvery gauze from his pocket—"and throw it over your head +whenever you go under the water. With it you will be able +to breathe and see, as well as if you were on dry land. From +this flask"—and he handed Sidigunda a curious little gold +bottle—"you must pour a few drops on to your remaining +shoe, and whenever you do so it will change in a moment +into a boat, a horse, or a fish, as you desire it."</p> + +<p>"How am I to start, and where am I to go to?" asked +the Princess, trying not to feel frightened at the prospect +before her.</p> + +<p>"Launch your shoe as a boat, and float on till you meet +the Sea-Troll, who is an old friend of mine. Explain your +errand to him, and say I begged him to direct you and give +you a passport. And now one last word before I leave you. +Never, <i>whatever</i> happens, cry again; for there is nothing +worries me so much, and I want to finish my sleep +comfortably."</p> + +<p>With these words the old Troll collected his long grey +beard which had strayed over the sand-hill; and folding it +round him, he disappeared in the hole again.</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda did not give herself time to think. +She ran down to the edge of the water, took off her golden +shoe, and poured some of the contents of her Godfather's +flask over it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>It changed immediately into a boat, into which the +Princess stepped tremblingly; and it floated away over the +blue water until the little Princess, straining her eyes eagerly, +lost sight of her home, and the land faded away into a mere +streak upon the horizon.</p> + +<p>"I wonder when I shall meet the Sea-Troll and what +he's like," thought Princess Sidigunda. "I suppose I shall +be able to recognize him somehow."</p> + +<p>As she thought this, she noticed that some object was +rapidly floating towards her. It did not look like a boat, +and as it came nearer and nearer, she could see that it was +a large shell, on which an old man with a long beard was +seated cross-legged, surrounded by a crowd of laughing +Sea-children. They clung to the sides of the shell, swum +round it, or climbed up to rest themselves on its crinkled +edges.</p> + +<p>"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" cried the +old man in a gruff voice.</p> + +<p>The Princess trembled; but she seized her veil and the +little flask, and holding them out she repeated her Godfather's +message.</p> + +<p>"I'll see what I can do, though really these children wear +me out!" said the Sea-Troll. "I can't keep my eye on all +of them at once! You had better go down to the Sea-city, +and ask if they've carried your shoe there. If not, the Troll-writers +will tell you where it is. Show this to the city guard, +and they will direct you to the Palace." He gave the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +Princess a flat shell on which some letters were engraved. +"Sink down at once," he continued; "you are over the +city now," and with a wave of his hand he sailed away with +the children, and was soon out of sight.</p> + +<p>"I suppose there's nothing else to be done," sighed +Sidigunda, and throwing the scarf over her head, she poured +a few drops from the bottle upon her shoe.</p> + +<p>"Turn into a fish and carry me down to the Sea-city!" +she said.</p> + +<p>In a moment she felt herself sinking through the clear +water, deeper and deeper, with a delicious drowsy feeling +that almost soothed her to sleep. She knew she was <i>not</i> +asleep though, for she could see the misty forms of sea +creatures, darting about in the dim shadows, and great +waving sea-weeds—crimson, yellow, and brown—floating up +from the rippled sand beneath.</p> + +<p>And now the shoe swum straight on, darting through the +water like an eel; until a large town came in sight, with high +walls and Palaces, and shining domes covered with mother-o'-pearl.</p> + +<p>They stopped at a great gate, before which a fish dressed +as a sentry was standing.</p> + +<p>As soon as he saw the little Princess, he drew his sword, +and came gliding towards her.</p> + +<p>"Your name and business!" he enquired, in a high thin voice.</p> + +<p>"I am Princess Sidigunda, seeking my golden shoe, and +I bring this from the Sea-Troll," said the Princess coura<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>geously. +"Will you tell me where I am to find the Trolls +of the Palace?"</p> + +<p>The fish handed the shell back sulkily, and pointed up +the street.</p> + +<p>"Go straight through till you come to the marble building +with the pearls over the door," he said; and gave the Princess +a poke with the handle of his sword, that pushed her through +the gate, almost before she had time to draw on her golden +shoe again.</p> + +<p>"What a rude, ill-bred sentry!" said Sidigunda. "My +father would be very angry if any of <i>our</i> soldiers behaved +so; but then, of course, this one is only a fish. What a +strange country I seem to have got into!"</p> + +<p>She walked along the street, looking on each side of her +curiously.</p> + +<p>Many of the houses had transparent domes, like beautiful +soap bubbles; some were built of coloured pebbles, and pink +and red coral, with branching trees of green and brown +seaweed growing up, beside and over them.</p> + +<p>Everything was strange, and unlike the earth; but what +struck the Princess most was that no inhabitants were to +be seen anywhere. A few fish swam about lazily, otherwise +an unbroken silence reigned in the Sea-city.</p> + +<p>Far away, at the end of the wide sanded road, a great +marble palace towered over the surrounding houses; and as +the Princess neared it she saw that the doors were wide +open. She walked in fearlessly, and found herself in a large<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +hall, with walls entirely covered with cockle-shells. Long +stone tables filled the middle of the room; at which a crowd +of small brown-coated men were seated, scribbling away +with long pens, but in total silence.</p> + +<p>The great grey beards of some of the writers had touched +the ground, and even twisted themselves round the legs of +the benches on which the old men were sitting.</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda stood for a minute looking on, +curiously. She then went up to one of the Trolls and pulled +him gently by the sleeve.</p> + +<p>He did not look up, but his pen slightly slackened its +speed.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" he enquired in an uninterested +voice. "Make haste, for I have no time to spare!"</p> + +<p>"What rude people they all are!" thought the Princess. +"The Sea-Troll said you would tell me how to find my +golden shoe," she continued aloud.</p> + +<p>"I wish the Sea-Troll would mind his own business!" +said the little brown man vindictively. "He's always +distracting us from our State business with all sorts of +messages."</p> + +<p>"Are you working for the State?" enquired Sidigunda.</p> + +<p>"Of course! I thought every oyster knew that," replied +the brown Troll.</p> + +<p>"Are they particularly uneducated, then?" asked the +Princess.</p> + +<p>"Why they're <i>babies</i>!" said the brown Troll. "You can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +see them any day in their beds by the side of the road, if you +have eyes in your head."</p> + +<p>"What a place to keep babies in!" thought the Princess, +but she said nothing, for she saw that the old Troll's disposition +was very irritable.</p> + +<p>"Would you tell me one thing," she began. "I do so +much want to know why I saw no one in the streets as I +came along. Where have all the people gone to?"</p> + +<p>"Well, of <i>all</i> the idi——" commenced the brown Troll, +then checked himself with an effort. "Of course you can't +know how foolish your questions sound," he said. "When +you're two or three hundred years old I daresay you'll be +more sensible. Why all the people are asleep—you don't +suppose it's the same as in <i>your</i> country!"</p> + +<p>"Do they sleep all the time?" asked the Princess.</p> + +<p>"Not all the time, of course. In this town it's two weeks +at a stretch. In other places more, or less. By this arrangement +we always have half the population asleep, and half +awake—much pleasanter and less crowding. I can't think +why it's not done in other places!"</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda looked surprised.</p> + +<p>"Will the children who took my shoe be asleep?" she +enquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Not they!" said the brown Troll crossly, "I wish +they would be! Children under twelve <i>never</i> sleep. +It's like having a crowd of live eels always round me! +I'd put them to sleep when they were a month old, and not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +let them wake till they came of age, if I had <i>my</i> way!"</p> + +<p>The Princess felt rather frightened of this savage little +brown man. She was afraid to ask any more questions, +though she longed to know why he and his companions +were not asleep too.</p> + +<p>"Go straight down the street," commenced the old Troll +abruptly, "out of the green gate, along the road to the +open country. Turn your shoe into a horse, and don't stop +till you reach the Crab-boy's hut. He will direct you."</p> + +<p>"That sounds simple enough," thought the Princess, +"but I wish he would tell me a little more!"</p> + +<p>The brown Troll, however, refused to open his mouth +again, and Princess Sidigunda was obliged to start off upon +her wanderings, with no more guide than the few words +he had chosen to speak to her.</p> + +<p>She ran down the silent street, and out at the green gate; +the Fish-sentry allowing her to pass without objection. As +soon as she reached the country road, she walked more +slowly. She particularly wanted to see the beds with the +Sea-babies, which the old Troll had spoken about.</p> + +<p>For some distance she noticed nothing except wide sandy +plains dotted with rocks, shells, and waving forests of giant +seaweed—huge fish darting about in all directions—but at +last the scenery grew wilder; and close to the road side she +came upon a grove of oysters, each half-open shell containing +a Sea-child, whose head and arms appeared above the +edges of the shell, while its feet and body were invisible.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beside them sat an old woman, grey and wrinkled; with a +small switch in her hand, with which she occasionally +touched the Sea-babies as they leaned too far from their +shells, or as their laughter rose too noisily.</p> + +<p>The little Princess stopped and looked at the children +curiously; and the old woman stepped forward and made a +polite curtsey.</p> + +<p>"They are rather noisy to-day," she said deprecatingly. +"The oyster-nurses have gone out for a holiday, and I have +to keep the whole bed in order!"</p> + +<p>"I should like to wait and play with them," said the +Princess, "but I really am in such a hurry—I've lost my +golden shoe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're going to the Crab-boy, I suppose?" said +the old woman. "Down the road as straight as you can +go, and you'll come to his hut," and she turned away to the +children again.</p> + +<p>Sidigunda took off her slipper, and poured out some drops +from her magic bottle.</p> + +<p>Immediately it grew larger and larger; and she had just +time to spring in, before it galloped away with a series of +bounds that made it very difficult to cling on.</p> + +<p>Faster and faster it went, until the country seemed only a +flying haze; and just as the Princess began to feel she +could endure no more, it stopped abruptly before a small +hut.</p> + +<p>Outside the door a boy sat on a stone seat, playing on a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +long horn whose notes echoed among the rocky hills that +surrounded him.</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda looked at the boy with a friendly smile. +He stopped playing, and made room for her to sit down +beside him.</p> + +<p>"I knew you were coming," he said. "You want to go to +the Sea-grandmother, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!" said the Princess. "Do you live here all +alone?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," replied the Crab-herd, "I look after all +the crabs of the district. You may see me collect them if +you like, for if I'm to go with you now, I must shut them up +safely before starting."</p> + +<p>As he said this, he rose, and blowing a few notes on his +horn, he walked slowly along, followed by the Princess.</p> + +<p>As the horn sounded, crabs of every size and colour came +darting out from the stones, and scuttled across the sand +towards the Crab-boy. There were red and green, yellow +and brown, large and small—a procession growing larger and +larger, until it reached an enclosed space, into which the boy +guided it, and then shut the gate securely.</p> + +<p>The Princess had dropped down to rest upon a conch-shell, +in the shade of some purple seaweed, and she looked up at +the Crab-herd with her large blue eyes, while he counted his +crabs, and chased in one or two of the stragglers.</p> + +<p>"Is the Sea-grandmother's house far off?" she asked +thoughtfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Up in the great mountains, no distance from here. She +lives in a cave, with plenty of space for her knitting."</p> + +<p>"Does she knit <i>much</i>?" enquired Sidigunda.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she knits and spins too. She never leaves off; and +never has for hundreds and thousands of years."</p> + +<p>"What a very old lady she must be! Old enough to be +a great-great-great-grandmother!" cried the Princess in +astonishment.</p> + +<p>"If you said three hundred '<i>greats</i>' you would be nearer +the real thing," remarked the Crab-boy. "But come now, +follow me, and we will start immediately."</p> + +<p>Princess Sidigunda got up, and taking the Crab-herd's +hand, they set off down the road towards the mountains.</p> + +<p>As they reached the foot of the grey cliffs, the Crab-boy +unfolded a pair of fin-like wings from his elbows, and began +to swim upwards—leaving the little Princess with her arms +stretched out imploringly towards him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>don't</i> leave me here by myself!" she cried. "I shall +never find my way to the Sea-grandmother!"</p> + +<p>"Why there she is, just above us in that cave in the side +of the mountain," said the Crab-boy. "Don't you see her +beautiful white hair, and the flash of her knitting-needles?"</p> + +<p>The Princess looked up, and there sat a beautiful old lady +in a hole in the rock, high, high above them. A crowd of +Sea-children played about her, and seemed to be carrying +away the cloud-like white knitting as fast as it flowed from +her busy fingers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>She bent her head towards Sidigunda, and nodded to her, +without ceasing her work for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Come, Princess, and talk to me!" she called in a sweet, +low voice. "Take your shoe off, and it will bring you here +in a moment."</p> + +<p>Sidigunda did as she was told—for the old lady spoke as +if she were used to being obeyed without question—and +found herself floating upwards, until she alighted on a broad +ledge right in front of the Sea-grandmother.</p> + +<p>"So you have come all this way to find your golden shoe?" +the old lady said in her clear, even voice. "Sit down, and +tell me all about it."</p> + +<p>The Princess thought the Sea-grandmother's face young +and lovely. It was smooth and unwrinkled; eyes clear as +crystal, with blue depths in them, shining out with a soft +benign look; while her slim hands turned and twisted unceasingly, +and her long green dress fell round her in wave-like +folds.</p> + +<p>Her smile was so soft and kind, that the Princess felt as if +she had known her all her life.</p> + +<p>"I have sent for your shoe, my child," she said. "Those +tiresome grandchildren of mine give me a great deal of +trouble. I can't keep my eyes on all of them at once, and so +they are always in mischief!"</p> + +<p>Sidigunda looked up in the gentle face; and sat down +confidingly beside the Sea-grandmother.</p> + +<p>"Do you always knit so busily, Grandmother?" she said,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +as she watched the white foamy fabric float off the needles.</p> + +<p>"Of course, child. I have been working like this for +thousands and thousands of years. Who do you imagine +would provide the waves with nightcaps if <i>I</i> ever stopped? +When the wind blows and they dance, or when they curl +over on the shore, they would be cold indeed, without my +comfortable white nightcaps!"</p> + +<p>"Can you get me my shoe, dear Grandmother?" asked +the little Princess wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, dear child. Though if you had not come at +once, you might have had to wait a few hundred years or so, +before I could have found it for you. The children wander +so far now-a-days! Have you seen it?" the Sea-grandmother +continued, turning to some of the children who +surrounded her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," they answered in chorus. "Just now it floated +above us. We can fetch it in a minute!"</p> + +<p>"Swim away then, as fast as you can!" cried the Sea-grandmother, +and the children darted off like fish through +the green clearness of the water.</p> + +<p>The sound of their laughter had hardly died away in the +distance, before they reappeared, dragging the golden shoe +behind them; and the Princess, with smiles of joy, embraced +them all as she drew it on to her foot again.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, dearest Grandmother! I don't know +how I can show you how grateful I am," cried Sidigunda.</p> + +<p>"By going home at once to your father and mother, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +by promising me <i>never</i> again to be disobedient," said the +Sea-grandmother gravely. "Give me your shoe, and I will +order it to take you back to the Castle."</p> + +<p>She stopped her needles for a moment, and passed her +hand over the slipper: then kissed the little Princess, and +waved the knitting rapidly before her.</p> + +<p>A white cloud seemed to float over Sidigunda, and she +felt herself lifted up with a soothing motion, until on opening +her eyes she found she was once more in the region of the +fresh air and sunshine. Looking round, she saw the ruffled +surface of the sea, and the waves breaking upon the shore +before the Castle.</p> + +<p>Her heart beat with happiness, as the golden shoe landed +her safely on the beach; and she ran up through the little +gate into the Castle gardens, right into the arms of her +mother, who was pacing up and down with her attendants, +in great anxiety.</p> + +<p>Under the shade of some spreading fir trees the Princess +related her adventures, begging the King and Queen to +forgive her for her disobedience; and the whole Court was +so delighted at her return that everyone forgot to scold her.</p> + +<p>That evening bonfires were lighted on all the hill-tops; +and a great banquet was held in the Castle, at which the +Princess appeared amidst loud cheering, and, holding her +father's hand, drank from a golden goblet to the health of +her Godfather, the Shore-Troll, and the Sea-grandmother.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="The_Badgers_School" id="The_Badgers_School"></a>The Badger's School,</h2> + +<h4><span class="smcap">or</span></h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The Adventures of a Bear Family.</span></h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>In the very heart of a great forest in Sweden lived +a Bear family, called "Bjornson."</p> + +<p>They were much respected throughout the whole +neighbourhood, for they were kind and hospitable to everyone; +and as their home was in such an unfrequented part +of the country they were able often to give entertainments +which it was quite safe to attend without fear of Foresters +or other human inconveniences.</p> + +<p>Their house was built of large stones, neatly roofed with +pine branches, and was reached by a winding path through +the rocks, the entrance to which had become covered by a +dense thicket of bushes. A small wire had been cunningly +arranged by the Bear-father, so that in the event of any +stranger entering the door a bell would be rung in the Bear-kitchen; +but so far the household had fortunately never +been alarmed by this contrivance.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two Bjornson children, Knut and Otto, led a very +happy life in the forest. Whenever they liked they could +bring some of their young companions home from the +School-house in the evening; and then the Bear-mother +would seat herself on a tree-stump and play tunes for them +to dance to—for Fru Bjornson was highly educated, and +had learnt the concertina in all its branches.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;"> +<img src="images/image205.png" width="313" height="400" alt=""THE BEAR-MOTHER HAD LEARNT THE CONCERTINA IN ALL ITS BRANCHES"" title=""THE BEAR-MOTHER HAD LEARNT THE CONCERTINA IN ALL ITS BRANCHES"" /> +<span class="caption">"THE BEAR-MOTHER HAD LEARNT THE CONCERTINA IN ALL ITS BRANCHES"</span> +</div> + +<p>This of course was all very delightful: but every morning +Knut and Otto were obliged to start off at daybreak with +their books and satchels for the forest School, and there a +time of trouble usually awaited them. It was kept by an +old Badger of very uncertain temper, and all his pupils +stood in great awe of the birch rod which lay in a conspicuous +place upon his writing-table.</p> + +<p>"It's all very well for the Hedgehogs," the scholars often +grumbled to each other. "Of course <i>they</i> can do just what +they like, as they happen to be covered all over with quills—but +for <i>us</i> it's a very different affair!"</p> + +<p>Certainly strict discipline was maintained by the Badger +during School time. His eyes seemed to be upon everyone +at once, and it was vain to try and crack nuts, draw caricatures, +or eat peppermint lozenges—the rod would come +down immediately with a <i>thump</i>! and the offender, as he +stood in a corner of the room with a fool's cap on, had +time to fully realize the foolishness of his own behaviour.</p> + +<p>Forest History and Arithmetic were the Badger's two +favourite studies, and each pupil was expected to know the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +Multiplication Table upside-down, and to be able to give +the date of any event in Bear-history, without a moment's +hesitation.</p> + +<p>It was perhaps not to be wondered at that the scholars +were glad when playtime arrived, and that they rushed +home helter-skelter, with shouts of joy, the moment the +School-house door was thrown open.</p> + +<p>Many practical jokes had been tried upon the old Schoolmaster, +and the offenders had invariably been severely +punished, but one day in early autumn Knut and Otto, as +they walked home with their friends, suggested a plan +which would sweep away at one blow a great part of the +misery of their School life.</p> + +<p>"You know the great History and Arithmetic books that +Herr Badger always keeps on the desk in front of him?" +said Knut. "We'll scoop out the insides and fill them with +fireworks. Then directly he comes into School, we'll let +them off. What an explosion there'll be! He <i>will</i> be +frightened! No more sums and dates after that. Hurrah! +Hurrah!"</p> + +<p>The scholars jumped about with delight when they heard +the young Bears' idea, and eagerly agreed to join in the +mischief.</p> + +<p>Their mothers were quite surprised the next morning to +see with what alacrity they all started for School—half-an-hour +earlier than their usual custom—and Fru Bjornson +remarked to her old servant that "she really believed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +children were beginning to take an interest in their studies +<i>at last</i>!"</p> + +<p>The old Badger had not yet finished breakfast in his +cottage by the School-house; so his pupils were able to +enter the School-room unobserved, and had soon carried +out their simple arrangements.</p> + +<p>An oiled string was attached, winding up the leg of the +table to the fireworks; and the end was to be lighted by +Knut the moment Herr Badger had seated himself.</p> + +<p>Everything being completed, the scholars seized their +books; and when their master appeared in the doorway, +murmured a respectful greeting, to which he responded by +a stately bow.</p> + +<p>"Your slates, pupils. We will commence as usual with +a few easy sums."</p> + +<p>A subdued groan broke from the scholars; and Knut—stooping +down under pretence of tying up his shoe—applied +a match to the string, while his companions shuffled as +loudly as possible, to hide the sound of the striking.</p> + +<p>"Silence, if you <i>please</i>!" shouted the Badger. "Have +you come to school to dance the polka? Attend to this +little problem immediately, and mind it is correctly answered. +If 10,000 Bears and a Pole-cat, ran round a tree 1,500 times +and a half, in an hour and ten minutes; each knocking off +one leaf and three-quarters every time he ran round—how +many leaves would be knocked off in a fortnight?"</p> + +<p>"They couldn't do it," muttered a hedgehog derisively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +"There wouldn't be room for a quarter of them!"</p> + +<p>"Make haste! Make haste!" cried the Badger, rapping +his desk; but just at that moment, <i>whirr!</i> <i>whizz!</i> <i>bang!</i> +The books flew open with a loud report, and out sprang +the crackers, and began to fizz and bound about the table.</p> + +<p>Herr Badger's black skull cap tumbled off, and he fell +backwards in his astonishment, shouting for help; while the +whole school darted away through the open door into the +woods, in a state of the wildest delight and excitement.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>Fru Bjornson was busily employed in her kitchen, stirring +up some liquid in a large saucepan. It was cranberry jam +for the winter, and on the floor stood a long row of brown +jars into which it was to be poured when the boiling was +thoroughly completed.</p> + +<p>The servant, a little thin light-brown Bear, in a large +apron, waited close by, ready to poke the fire, or give any +other assistance that was required of her.</p> + +<p>In the salon, Herr Bjornson, with a pucker on his forehead, +was adding up his Bee accounts—for he kept a +number of hives in the garden and fields belonging to him.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the alarm bell sounded loudly, and in rushed +the Bear-mother, with the jam-ladle in her hand, her hair +almost erect with terror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have found us at last! What shall we do? +Where shall we fly to?" she cried distractedly.</p> + +<p>"Into the ice-cellar," cried Herr Bjornson, "come, +Ingold. Everyone follow me!" and he threw his papers +down on the ground and ran out at the back door.</p> + +<p>Fortunately the ice-cellar was near the house, and the +frightened family were soon safely in its shelter.</p> + +<p>By opening a crack in the small trap-door, which was +level with the ground, they were able to see all that went on +in the garden; and the steps afforded them a place to sit +down upon, without touching the great blocks of ice that +looked white and ghostly as the thin streak of daylight +struggled in upon them.</p> + +<p>"Is anyone coming?" whispered the Bear-mother +nervously.</p> + +<p>"I can't see anything moving," growled Herr Bjornson. +"Keep back, Mother. I can't help treading upon you. +Dear me! How cramped we are here!"</p> + +<p>"It's terribly cold," said the Bear-mother shivering. +"I can feel myself freezing in every hair."</p> + +<p>"Wrap your shawl round you, and stamp about a little."</p> + +<p>Fru Bjornson attempted to carry out the directions, but +the space was so small there was scarcely room to move +in it.</p> + +<p>The air seemed to get colder and colder; Ingold's fur +turned frost-white, and she twined her apron round her head +to prevent herself from being frost-bitten.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, this is awful," quaked the Bear-mother. "We +shall all die or be turned into icicles if we can't get out +before long!"</p> + +<p>The Bear-father had put up his coat-collar and tied his +bandanna pocket-handkerchief over his ears. His hair was +also covered with white crystals, and he was seized with an +attack of coughing which obliged him to borrow the Bear-mother's +shawl to bury his head in, so that the sound might +not be heard outside.</p> + +<p>"This is painful in the extreme," he said in a choked +voice as he emerged gasping. "A cough lozenge at this +moment might be the saving of us!"</p> + +<p>"What shall we do if the enemy hears us!" cried Fru +Bjornson. "Here! I have just found a peppermint-drop +in my pocket. Let us divide it into three. It may be some +slight assistance."</p> + +<p>They soon discovered, however, that lozenges were utterly +powerless to keep out that biting air, and the Bear-mother +seated herself resignedly on an ice-block.</p> + +<p>"It's no good struggling against fate," she murmured. +"We shall be found by the children, I suppose. You'd +better keep your arms down straight, father; and freeze as +narrow as possible. Then they will be able to get you out +of the opening without much difficulty. It seems hard to +think they will never know the true facts of the case," she +continued mournfully. "Our epitaph will probably be 'Sat +down carelessly in an Ice-house!'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't despair, Mother," cried Herr Bjornson, who had +one eye anxiously applied to the crack in the trap-door. "I +see the back gate opening. In another minute we shall +know the worst—Hi! What! Well, I never! Who do you +think it is, Mother? Why, <i>the Schoolmaster</i>!"</p> + +<p>Herr Badger indeed it was, who had come off in a great +hurry to complain of the disgraceful behaviour of his pupils, +and being very excited had inadvertently trodden on the +wire of the alarm bell as he entered the private grounds of +the Bear-family.</p> + +<p>He seemed a little surprised as the strange procession +suddenly rose up out of the ground in front of him, but +without making any enquiries as to what they had been +doing there, he plunged at once into the history of his +wrongs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>All day the Badger's scholars enjoyed themselves in the +forest. They played leap-frog, ran races, bathed in the +river, had lunch in a shady hollow, and picked more +cranberries than they knew what to do with; but as +evening came on, they began to wonder a little anxiously +whether the Schoolmaster would already have been round +to their parents to complain of their behaviour; and when +Knut and Otto entered their own door in the bushes, their +knees were shaking under them, and it occurred to them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +that perhaps the fireworks hadn't been quite so amusing as +they expected, after all!</p> + +<p>They were met by Herr Bjornson with a gloomy frown. +There was no doubt that Herr Badger had told him everything, +and the little Bears waited tremblingly for what was +to happen next.</p> + +<p>"What is this that I hear?" commenced the Father-bear +angrily. "Your respected Master ill-treated in his own +School-house. Thrown violently upon the ground, with +crackers exploding round him for several hours! What +have you to say for yourselves?"</p> + +<p>"Please, father, we didn't mean to hurt him," began +Knut in a piping voice; "It was only to get rid of the +books. We won't do it again!"</p> + +<p>"I should think <i>not</i>, indeed," said Herr Bjornson. "I +shall punish you myself severely to-morrow, after School +time, and Herr Badger is going to give you two hours' extra +Arithmetic every day for a fortnight."</p> + +<p>Knut and Otto crept off miserably into the garden, and +that evening there was no dancing, and the Bear-mother's +concertina was silent.</p> + +<p>Before it was daylight next morning, Knut had +awakened Otto. They had determined the night before +that they would <i>never</i> return to Herr Badger's rule, and +the matter of the extra Arithmetic had settled their +determination.</p> + +<p>They started with their cloaks, and with lunch in their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +satchels, as if going to School—leaving a note for their +mother upon the kitchen dresser.</p> + +<p>This letter was written with the stump of a lead pencil, +and ran as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>To the well-born Fru Bjornson.</i></p> + +<p>"<i>We cant keep at ilt any mor. We want to be inderpendent, +and the sums are 2 mutch. We sik our fortones, and return wen +we ar rich.</i></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Knut. Otto.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>As soon as they reached the forest, the two little Bears +ran forward as quickly as they could towards the river.</p> + +<p>They intended to take any canoe they found by the shore, +and row themselves over to the opposite side. They did +not know exactly what they should do when they got there; +but anyhow, they would be safe from punishment when +they were once over.</p> + +<p>As they went along they kept as much as possible behind +the underwood, though it was so early it was scarcely likely +that any of the charcoal-burners or fishermen would be +stirring.</p> + +<p>After some search they discovered a small canoe drawn +up under the bushes, and untying it without much difficulty, +they got in, and Knut paddled actively out into the strong +current.</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> independence!" cried Otto, arranging the knapsacks +and cloaks in the bow of the boat, and taking up the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +steering-paddle. "What would Herr Badger say if he could +see us now?"—and he chuckled.</p> + +<p>All day they drifted down the river—watching the salmon +dart about the boulders, and the trout leap in the curling +eddies. It was so silent in the great forest, with the pine +trees growing close to the edge of the water, that at last the +little Bears' high spirits began to fail them; and as the evening +came on their laughter ceased, and they sat quietly in the +canoe, steering their way between the great rocks without +speaking.</p> + +<p>"How strong the current is here," muttered Otto at last. +"I can scarcely keep the boat straight!"</p> + +<p>"Well, let's land and find some place to sleep in," cried +Knut—but this was more easily said than done. The +moment they tried to turn the canoe in towards the shore, +it began to whirl round and round; and finally striking +against a stone, it upset the two little Bears into the +middle of the foaming river.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>Fortunately Knut and Otto were good swimmers, and +they were able after some struggling to scramble to the +shore; but they found to their great annoyance that they +had landed on the same side as that from which they had +started.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>Their canoe was whirling rapidly away down the rapids, +and it was useless to think of recovering it; so the two +little Bears proceeded to dry their clothes as well as they +could, and then looked about to see if they could find a +comfortable place to sleep in.</p> + +<p>A large hollow tree stood close to the edge of the river, +and into this they climbed, and being very tired they were +soon fast asleep.</p> + +<p>They were awakened by voices.</p> + +<p>"It's <i>men</i>!" whispered Otto, clutching Knut's arm in +terror. "Oh, why did we ever run away! They'll be <i>sure</i> +to find us!"</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, Otto," muttered Knut. "Do you want them +to hear? Lie still, and I'll think of some way to escape."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure this is the right tree?" said a man's voice.</p> + +<p>"Don't you see the mark?" asked another. "The +Forester put it on himself; though it's rather high up. +You'd better begin work at once, or you'll not get through +with it before he comes round again."</p> + +<p>This was awful. Otto trembled so that he could hear his +own teeth chattering; but Knut kept his presence of mind, +and poking his brother warningly, said in a hoarse whisper,</p> + +<p>"Wait till I give the signal, and then jump out after me +as high in the air as you can. Follow me till I tell you +to stop."</p> + +<p>An echoing blow resounded against the tree trunk, which +made Knut fly up like a sky-rocket.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now!" he cried, and bounding on to the edge of the +opening, he jumped right over the heads of the woodmen +into the tangled bushes, followed by Otto, and away they +raced through the forest, before the astonished men could +recover themselves.</p> + +<p>"What in the world was that?" cried the wood-cutters, +rubbing their eyes and blinking; but no one had been able to +see more than two flying brown balls, and after hunting +about in vain, they decided it must have been a couple of +gigantic owls.</p> + +<p>Only one thing did they find in the hollow tree, and that +certainly puzzled them—a small piece of crumpled paper, on +which was sketched a life-like picture of a Badger with a +fool's cap on his head; underneath, written in cramped +letters—</p> + +<p>"<i>How would you like it?</i>"</p> + +<p>After running for about half an hour, Knut sank down +panting on a juniper bush, while Otto rolled upon the moss +thoroughly exhausted.</p> + +<p>"Arithmetic was better than this!" he panted dismally, +fanning himself with a large fern leaf. "History was +better—<i>anything</i> was better!"</p> + +<p>"Well, we're quite safe here for the present," replied +Knut, "so don't worry yourself any more. I'm so tired I +can't keep awake, and I'm sure you can't." And, indeed, in +spite of their fright, in a few minutes both the little Bears +were sound asleep again.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they next opened their eyes, the sun was glinting +through the pine trees; and looking down on them benignly, +stood a Fox in travelling dress, with a soft felt hat +upon his head.</p> + +<p>He smiled graciously upon Knut, and beckoned him to +come out of the juniper bushes.</p> + +<p>"Ha! ha! my good gentlemen, you are taking a comfortable +rest in a very secluded spot, but you can't escape +<i>my</i> observation!" he cried cheerfully. "Are you on your +way to some foreign Court—or perhaps you are couriers +with State secrets?"</p> + +<p>The two little Bears, feeling very flattered, sat up and +straightened their tunics.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, we are seeking our fortunes," said Knut +with dignity.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing easier," replied the Fox. "You come +with me. Such hearty, well-grown young Bears will find +no difficulty in getting excellent situations. I can almost +promise you each a large income if you implicitly follow +my directions."</p> + +<p>"Where should we go to, then?" asked Knut cautiously.</p> + +<p>"To a dear friend of mine, who employs an immense +number of workmen," said the Fox easily. "I will just let +you see who I am before we proceed further," and he drew +a case from his pocket, and taking out a card, presented it +to the little Bears with a low bow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Just as if we were grown up!" whispered Otto. "Oh, +Knut, how different this is to Herr Badger!"</p> + +<p>On the card, printed in elegant copper-plate, was the +following—</p> + +<p>"<i>Herr Kreutzen, Under-Secretary (and Working Member) +of the Society for promoting the welfare of Farmers.</i>"</p> + +<p>Knut looked at Herr Kreutzen respectfully.</p> + +<p>"If you'll be so kind as to show us the way, we'll follow +you at once," he said. "If we could get a little breakfast +on the way, we should be glad; for we have lost our +satchels, and berries are not very satisfying."</p> + +<p>"Come along, then!" said the Fox briskly; and seizing +the two little Bears by the paw, he dragged them into the +heart of the forest at a rapid pace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> + + +<p>On the day after his visit to the Bjornson family, Herr +Badger, feeling very dull, sat alone in the cottage by the +School-house.</p> + +<p>Every one of his pupils had deserted him; for not only +had the two little Bears run away, but all their companions +had also played truant; and the whole of that part of the +forest was filled with parents anxiously searching for their +missing children—like a gigantic game of hide-and-seek.</p> + +<p>Herr Badger called to his housekeeper to bring him the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +black-board, a couple of globes, and the book of conic-sections, +and for some hours he amused himself happily; +but at the end of that time he began to experience an +almost irresistible desire to teach something.</p> + +<p>"If I can't get anyone else, I'll call Brita," he said to +himself. "I can just ask her a few easy questions suited +to her limited intellect."</p> + +<p>The housekeeper came in, curtsying respectfully, and +seated herself at the table, as she was bidden.</p> + +<p>"I must imagine I have given up school, and taken to +private pupils," the Badger said to himself. "I hope she +won't exasperate me, and make me lose my temper! Now +take this slate," he continued aloud, "and try and do one +of these simple sums. You'll soon get used to them—</p> + +<p>"If five onions were to be boiled in six saucepans, how +would you divide the onions so that there would be exactly +the same quantity in each pan?"</p> + +<p>"Chop them up," replied the housekeeper promptly.</p> + +<p>The Badger glared. "You're not attending. I said, +'How would you <i>divide</i> them!'"</p> + +<p>"You might mince them very fine, or pound them in a +mortar," replied the housekeeper anxiously. "I don't know +of no other way of doing it."</p> + +<p>"Work it out on the slate, creature!—on the <i>slate</i>!" +cried Herr Badger, thumping the table with his long ruler.</p> + +<p>"I'd rather do it on a dish, sir," said the housekeeper, +trembling. "It's more what I'm accustomed to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + +<p>Herr Badger started up in a fury. "<i>You</i> call yourself a +private pupil?" he shouted (quite forgetting that the housekeeper +had never called herself anything of the kind). +"Go back to the kitchen immediately."</p> + +<p>"I could bring you the Mole who blacks the boots, if +<i>he'd</i> be any good," said the housekeeper humbly. "I know +I'm very ignorant, but the Mole tells me he's been attending +day school for years, and he reads recipes out of the cookery-book +quite beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak to me of Moles!" said the Badger crossly. +"I shall take no more private pupils—they're not worth it." +And he walked over to the black-board, and began to draw +diagrams.</p> + +<p>"What's the good of diagrams, without a class to explain +them to?" he muttered. "I declare I believe I <i>was</i> too +hard on those children. We can't be all equally gifted. It +wouldn't be a bad idea if I went out as one of the search +parties. I declare I <i>will</i>!" he continued, his face brightening, +"and I'll make every creature I find promise to come +back to school again. I must make up a class somehow, or +I shall die of monotony."</p> + +<p>He took down his old felt hat with the ear-flaps, and +putting some food in a knapsack, and choosing a stout +walking-stick, he flung a green cloak over his shoulders, and +let himself out into the forest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + + +<p>The Fox took the two little Bears on so quickly, that +they soon began to feel both cross and tired. To their +anxious enquiries as to where they were going, and whether +they could not soon have some breakfast, Herr Kreutzen +answered vaguely that they would very soon reach their +destination, and should have as much breakfast as they +could possibly care for.</p> + +<p>"My friends are kind worthy people, and you'll find +every sort of luxury," he said, smiling benignly.</p> + +<p>"We seem to be coming near a town," whispered Knut +to Otto. "I don't quite like this!" and he tried to pull his +paw away from the good "Secretary of the Society for +promoting the welfare of Farmers."</p> + +<p>"Come along, my dear child. We are almost there," +cried the Fox. "I am just going to tie you both up to +this tree for a minute—merely to be sure you are quite safe +and happy in my absence—and I shall return with my kind +friend, in no time!"</p> + +<p>Herr Kreutzen took some string from his pocket as he +spoke, and the two little Bears—who saw there was no use +in struggling—submitted to be fastened together to a fir tree.</p> + +<p>As soon as the Fox had disappeared, Otto burst into a +loud roar of terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he's going to do something dreadful, I know he is! +We shall never, <i>never</i> get away again!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's no good making that noise," said Knut, angrily. +"Leave off, Otto, and let me think."</p> + +<p>"You may think for ever," wailed Otto, "and unless +you've got a pocket knife you won't get these knots undone!" +and he began to cry again with renewed vigour.</p> + +<p>"Why, whatever is the matter?" said a friendly voice +close by.</p> + +<p>The little Bears looked round eagerly, and saw that an +elderly Badger was approaching. He was evidently a woodcutter, +for he had a large axe in his hand, and the three young +Badgers who followed him were carrying neatly-tied bundles +of sticks.</p> + +<p>Knut stretched out his paw beseechingly.</p> + +<p>"<i>Please</i> cut the string! Oh, <i>please</i>, Herr Badger, make +haste, and let us get free. Herr Kreutzen will be back in a +minute, and then there'll be <i>no</i> hope for us!"</p> + +<p>"So this is some of <i>his</i> work!" said the Badger angrily. +"I declare that creature is a plague to the whole forest!"</p> + +<p>With two blows of his axe he cut the strings that bound +the little Bears; and ordering them to follow him to a place +of safety, he darted through the bushes with his children, +and never stopped until they came out into a secluded +valley, at the end of which, in a small clearing, stood a hut +built of pine logs.</p> + +<p>Before the door sat the Badger-mother with some plain +sewing, while five of the young Badger-children played +about on the grass in front of her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You're home early to-day, father," she said cheerfully, +and added, as she caught sight of the little Bears—"Why, +wherever did you pick up these strangers, father?"</p> + +<p>The Badger described the unpleasant position in which +he had found them; and the whole family gathering round, +Knut related their adventures truthfully from the very +beginning.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you where the Fox was taking you, my children," +said the Badger-mother; "There's a Wild Beast Show in +the town at this present moment, and Herr Kreutzen has +already enticed two or three animals into it. He is well +paid by the showman, and would have made a good thing +out of you, because you could have been taught to dance. +Oh, what a miserable fate you have escaped from!"</p> + +<p>Knut and Otto looked thoroughly ashamed of themselves, +and began to realize what their foolishness might have led +them into.</p> + +<p>However, no one could be miserable for long at a +time in the Badger family; they were all so happy and +light-hearted—so after a good dinner, the two little Bears +ran out into the garden, and forgot their troubles in a romp +with the children.</p> + +<p>"You did not know your old schoolmaster was a cousin +of ours?" remarked the Badger-mother, as they rested, +later on, under a shady fir tree. "He really is a worthy +creature at heart, and you ought all to try and put up with +him as much as possible."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We really <i>will</i>," cried the two little Bears heartily. +"If ever we get back again, we really <i>will</i>!" and they +thoroughly intended to keep their promises.</p> + +<p>"I think this evening you should start for home before +it grows dusk," said the Badger-mother. "Father will +see you well on your way, and your parents must be longing +to hear of you. Come into the house now, and I will make +you look respectable."</p> + +<p>Knut and Otto were all obedience, and followed the +Badger-mother meekly to the kitchen. Here she took +down two large scrubbing-brushes, and proceeded to give +them a thorough tidying. Then their faces were soaped, +and finally two of the young Badgers' caps were placed +upon their heads—for their own had fallen off when they +were upset into the river.</p> + +<p>The elastics were very tight under their chins, but they +refrained from saying anything—and this showed how +complete was their reformation!</p> + +<p>Just as all the preparations were completed, there came +a loud knock at the door; and the Schoolmaster himself +appeared, his clothes torn, one flap off his hat, a bandage +covering his right eye, leading in a little crowd of scholars +that he had collected with infinite toil from many perilous +positions.</p> + +<p>There were two Hedgehogs, a young Fox, five Badgers, +a Mole, and a tame Guinea-pig. All of them were more or +less scratched, and dismal looking; and some had evidently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +been in the water, for their clothes were still dripping, and +hung round them in the most uncomfortable manner.</p> + +<p>"What! <i>you</i> here, after all! Well, this is a happy +meeting!" cried Herr Badger, embracing the little Bears +warmly. "I wasn't going home till I'd found you—and +here you are. A most fortunate coincidence!"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, sit down, cousin," said the Badger-mother +hospitably. "Bring in the pupils, and let them dry their +hair before the fire—they seem in a sad state, poor things!"</p> + +<p>"They certainly <i>do</i> look a little untidy," said the Badger, +"but we shall soon remedy all that. I have been explaining +to the class (at least to as much as I've got of it)," he continued, +turning to Knut, "that the plan of the School is to +be entirely reformed—ten minutes' Arithmetic per day, and +History <i>once</i> weekly. What do you say to that, children?"</p> + +<p>A feeble cheer arose from the pupils; and the two little +Bears, throwing themselves upon their knees, begged their +Master's pardon for all the trouble they had caused him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + + +<p>Fru Bjornson, seated on a camp-stool by the side of the +entrance gate to her house, was looking anxiously around +her. Close by stood Ingold, with one eye tightly screwed +up, and an old-fashioned telescope in her hand, trying in +vain to adjust the focus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What do you see now?" enquired the Bear-mother, +leaning forward.</p> + +<p>"A great fog with snakes in it!" replied the servant +truthfully.</p> + +<p>"Why, those are <i>trees</i>, of course!" said Fru Bjornson. +"Turn the screw a little more, and it will become as plain +as possible."</p> + +<p>Ingold twisted her hand several times rapidly, and again +applied her eye to the end.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't seem like snakes now, does it?" asked the +Bear-mother triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! It's turned to milk with green splashes in it," +said Ingold.</p> + +<p>"You don't see anything of my darling children, then?" +enquired Fru Bjornson.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, ma'am," said Ingold. "A telescope may +be a wonderful thing for those who haven't any eyes, but really +I think <i>I</i> see better <i>without</i> it."</p> + +<p>At this moment, through the trees, an extraordinary procession +came in sight; which caused the Bear-mother to +jump up from her seat with a cry of joy.</p> + +<p>Herr Badger, with his cloak thrown over one shoulder, +leading Knut and Otto by the hand; and behind them the +rest of the pupils in single file—depressed and gloomy, but +resigned to whatever Fate might have in store for them.</p> + +<p>Fru Bjornson ran forward, and clasped her children in +her arms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a happy meeting; and as she thought the Schoolmaster +would already have gone through all the scolding that +was necessary, she refrained from adding a word more.</p> + +<p>"I've got the class together, ma'am," said Herr Badger +triumphantly, "and I'm never going to let it go again! +The new School system commences from to-morrow!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>All the parents agreed that the children had been sufficiently +punished during their wanderings in the forest, and +they were therefore allowed to return to their homes, without +anything more being said on the subject.</p> + +<p>The next morning the scholars assembled at the School-house +in excellent time; but most of them unfortunately, +having lost their satchels, were obliged to carry their books +and luncheon, wrapped up in untidy brown paper parcels—which +was certainly very mortifying.</p> + +<p>"My dear pupils," commenced Herr Badger, as he entered +the room and bowed graciously, "on this auspicious occasion, +I wish to call the Arithmetic class for ten minutes +only. We will begin, if you please, with 'twice one'—repeating +it three times over <i>without a failure</i>!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="Bobbies_Two_Shillings" id="Bobbies_Two_Shillings"></a>Bobbie's Two Shillings.</h2> + +<h4>A Guinea-Pig Story.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> + + +<p>On a sloping lawn, before an old-fashioned, rambling +house, Bobbie and Jerry were playing at nine-pins +on a hot day in August.</p> + +<p>Under the shade of a cedar tree the under-nurse sat +working; and "Aunt Lucy"—an old lady with snow-white +hair, crowned by a black mushroom hat—was slowly pacing +the gravel walk, digging out a weed here and there with a +long spud she carried for the purpose.</p> + +<p>Jerry was only playing nine-pins because Bobbie was so +fond of them. She did not care for them herself, for she +thought that as she was ten years old they were too babyish, +but Bobbie was only eight, so of course it was not to be +expected of him that he would care for "grown-up" things.</p> + +<p>There was a pleasant buzzing in the air, as old Jeptha +Funnel led the donkey in the mowing machine, up and +down the wide lawn, pausing every now and then to exchange +a few words with the children.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>"When are you a-coming to tea with us, Master Bobbie, +and Missy?" he enquired, stopping to fan his heated face +with a red pocket-handkerchief. "James Seton's got some +guinea-pigs that he talks of bringing over for you to see, any +day as you'll fix upon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that <i>is</i> nice. I do so long to have another!" cried +Bobbie rapturously. "I only want three-halfpence-farthing +more, and I shall have enough in my money-box to pay for +it. Will James wait till Friday?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he will, Master Bobbie; don't you worry your +head about that."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's an extraordinary thing, Jeptha, but you can't +think how I've been saving, and saving, and <i>saving</i> for that +guinea-pig; and it seems as if I never <i>should</i> have enough," +said Bobbie confidentially. "I saved up for 'Funnel'—the +one that's called after you, you know—in no time; but we +were up in Scotland then, and there wasn't hardly any +shops that I <i>could</i> spend my money in."</p> + +<p>"Things always <i>do</i> seem a long time a-coming when +you're longing for them, so to speak, day and night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's quite true that 'a watch-pocket never boils,'" said +Bobbie. "I shall leave off rattling the money-box, and try +and forget all about it till Friday."</p> + +<p>"You're right there, sir," said Jeptha, not noticing the new +rendering of the proverb, for he was as fond of long words +and sentences as Bobbie himself; "you come right up to +the cottage on Friday, along of nurse and Miss Jerry. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +missus 'll have tea for you, and <i>I'll</i> see that Jim brings the +guinea-pigs."</p> + +<p>"Does James Seton know anything about cats?" enquired +Jerry eagerly. "You know they're <i>my</i> favourite animals—just +like guinea-pigs are Bobbie's—and I do want to get +some new recipes for my cat-book!"</p> + +<p>"Why whatever is a cat-book, Miss Jerry?" asked Jeptha +curiously.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know, Jeptha? I write down all sorts of +cures for cats, and what they ought to eat; and several +times it's been very useful to Miss Meadows and Maria."</p> + +<p>"I can't say <i>I</i> know much about the subject, Miss Jerry, +nor I don't think Jim doesn't, neither, never having made +a study of it, as you may say. Miss Meadders is the tabby +cat, ain't she? A very fine cat I call her."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I made a portrait of her and Maria, to send to +mamma out in India, and Bobbie made a picture of Funnel +(not <i>you</i>, you know). She liked them so much. Shall I +tell you why Bobbie is so interested in guinea-pigs?" continued +Jerry, taking the old man's hand, and speaking in a +mysterious whisper.</p> + +<p>"You know Jack belongs to the 'Cavey Club' at school, +where all the boys <i>must</i> keep guinea-pigs; and he wrote +Bobbie a letter last term with a picture of a guinea-pig on +the flap of the envelope, and 'Where is it?' written where +the tail ought to be. Ever since then Bobbie has been <i>mad</i> +after guinea-pigs."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I can remember Master Jack a-walking in here +with ten of 'em," said Jeptha, "and keepin' 'em in the +lumber room in houses made out of cigar-boxes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but Aunt Lucy found it out, and wouldn't allow +it," said Jerry. "They all had to be taken out to the +stable yard again."</p> + +<p>"I must own I think on <i>that</i> occasion yer Aunt was +reasonable, Miss Jerry; a guinea-pig don't seem a kind of +a domestic indoor animal—like a cat, for instance."</p> + +<p>"Will you have mufflings and crumfits for tea, do you think, +when we come?" enquired Bobbie, after a thoughtful pause. +"Excuse me asking you, but I do like them so very much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Bobbie, you shouldn't say that!" cried Jerry, +reprovingly; "it's very impolite. Aunt Lucy would be +quite <i>horrified</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't <i>mean</i> anything rude," said Bobbie. "I +<i>do</i> like them, and I can't help it. I can't see why it's any +more rude than if I said I liked guinea-pigs."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> + + +<p>The next day was a very wet one; and Aunt Lucy, coming +up into the schoolroom in the morning—as she invariably +did, even during the holidays—saw a most extraordinary +collection of baskets standing on the floor, in front of a +small fire of sticks blazing away in the fireplace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>There was a large covered market basket, a fish bag with +a skewer through the top, and a small japanese basket, with +a lid which was kept in place by the poker and tongs laid +carefully over it.</p> + +<p>The baskets were all occasionally agitated from within; +and Aunt Lucy found on enquiry that they contained the +guinea-pig family, who having been flooded out of their +usual quarters by the rain, had been brought in to a fire by +Bobbie to be dried!</p> + +<p>"I really object to these animals in the house!" said +Aunt Lucy, trying to be severe; but Bobbie's face was so +pathetic, she did not order them to be taken out at once, +as she had at first intended.</p> + +<p>"As soon as they are dry you must move them away, +Bobbie," she continued; "I have had quite enough +trouble with Jack's. I can't have the house turned into +a menagerie."</p> + +<p>"Really, Aunt Lucy, you needn't mind Habbakuk and +Funnel—they are so very well behaved. I <i>have</i> been +debillerating whether I ought to bring in Pompey, because +his hair <i>streams</i> out—but he did look so cold and mis'rable, +I thought you wouldn't objec'."</p> + +<p>At this moment a housemaid came up to say there were +visitors in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"It is your two uncles from India," said Aunt Lucy, +taking Bobbie's reluctant hand. "They have come on +purpose to see you, so you must leave the guinea-pigs for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +a minute—Jerry can stay with them, and come down as +soon as you return."</p> + +<p>Bobbie departed groaning, while the under-nurse good-naturedly +made up the fire, and began to dry the guinea-pigs +with an old duster.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Bobbie returned, his fat round face red +with the exertion of scrambling upstairs, his brown eyes +sparkling.</p> + +<p>"What are they like?" enquired Jerry, who was not fond +of visitors, as Anne brushed at her curly hair, and tried in +vain to flatten it to the nursery regulation of smoothness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, two middle-aged, light gentlemen," replied Bobbie +carelessly. "One gave me a shilling to buy a guinea-pig, +so now I'm quite safe in telling James to bring them on +Friday." And Bobbie seated himself before the fire with +Habbakuk and Funnel on his knees, and rubbed away at +them vigorously.</p> + +<p>Jerry retired downstairs, but reappeared in a very short +time—rushing into the room again like a whirlwind.</p> + +<p>"What do you think the uncles have promised us, +Bobbie?" she cried excitedly; "guess the most beautifullest +thing you can possibly think of!"</p> + +<p>"Guin——" commenced Bobbie, and checked himself +hastily.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not!" said Jerry, with decision. "I said I +must run up and tell you, you'd be so <i>wild</i> with joy; it +begins with a 'P'—but it isn't 'pig.' Now guess again."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Prawns, p'rambulators, prongs, pastry," commenced +Bobbie rapidly. "Well, none of those are very nice except +pastry. I can't think of anything more, Jerry, you <i>must</i> +tell me."</p> + +<p>"Pantomime!" said Jerry, triumphantly; "<i>next Saturday!</i>—what +do you say to that?"</p> + +<p>Bobbie's eyes twinkled. "With preserved seats, like we +had last time! Oh, splendid!" and he began to caper +about the room with delight.</p> + +<p>"Well, this <i>has</i> been a day!" he exclaimed, as he sank +down, quite exhausted. "What a lot for my diary! I'd +better write it out at once, before I forget it."</p> + +<p>A large book, interleaved with blotting-paper, was disinterred +from the play-box, and Bobbie sat down before it +solemnly.</p> + +<p>The greater part of this book was filled with minute +accounts of what time its owner got up, and went to bed, +what pudding he had for dinner, and what lessons he learnt; +but on this occasion the entry assumed such large proportions +that it spread right over the next day, and was wandering +into "Friday," when Bobbie suddenly remembered the tea-party, +and that room must certainly be left for <i>that</i>!</p> + +<p>Jerry, looking over his shoulder, when he had finished, +read the following, adorned with many blots and smudges:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"Had sutch a day. 2 lite gentlemen who turnered into +Unkels ('You mean, "turned <i>out</i> to be uncles,"' corrected +Jerry) came And gave me 1 shiling for the brown ginny-pig<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +I acepted with thanks they are goin to tak us Jerry and me +to the pantermine and tea at Mrs. Funnels on Fryday (not +the Unkels but nurs).<br /><br /> + +"P.S.—Plenty mor to say but no rume. cant put the +puding to-day."</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> + + +<p>One of Bobbie's and Jerry's greatest treats was to have +tea at the cottage on the edge of the park, where old Mrs. +Funnel presided over a table covered with cakes and home-made +delicacies.</p> + +<p>She always liked them to appear in good time; so punctually +at four o'clock on Friday, the invited tea-party—consisting +of "Old Nurse," in a crackling black silk, Jerry in spotless +frilled cotton, and Bobbie in a white sailor's suit, bristling +with starch and pearl buttons—made their way through the +little garden of the Funnels' house, and rapped importantly +on the door with the end of nurse's umbrella.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Funnel, who had been awaiting the summons, +welcomed them heartily; and Bobbie was relieved to see—on +taking a cursory glance at the table—that besides the +usual array of good things, there was a covered dish, which +meant, as he knew by experience—muffins.</p> + +<p>Jeptha, in his Sunday coat, with a red geranium in his +button-hole, looked cheerfully conscious of his own splen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>dour; +and his wife's little wrinkled face beamed with kindness +and hospitality.</p> + +<p>"Jim can't get away yet, I'm sorry to say," she said, +"but he'll be in afterwards. Sit down, all of you, please. +Draw up to the table, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>Bobbie deposited his dog-skin gloves carefully in his hat, +and seated himself solemnly, trying to keep his eyes off the +plum cake, for the sake of good manners.</p> + +<p>"This bread's a bit heavy, mother!" remarked Jeptha, +grappling with a large loaf in the centre of the table.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that can be," replied Mrs. Funnel +cheerfully. "It rose enough."</p> + +<p>"Then it must ha' sat down again!" said Jeptha. "It's +that worritting oven, ma'am"—turning to nurse; "I assure +you we <i>do</i> have a time with it sometimes."</p> + +<p>The tea began merrily, and just in the middle of it the +door opened, and James Seton's sunburnt face looked in. +He carried a basket which Bobbie pounced upon eagerly, +for he knew it contained the long-expected guinea-pigs.</p> + +<p>Behind Jim stood a little woe-begone creature in a ragged +dress, her head covered by a large crumpled sun-bonnet. +The tears were rolling down her face, and in her hand she +held the bottom of a broken glass medicine bottle.</p> + +<p>"Look here, grandmother," said Jim, "I picked up this +unfort'net little mortal just outside the Lodge gates. She'd +been into town to buy some lotion for her sick mother, +and she went and fell up against a stone, and smashed her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +bottle; and now she's in a terrible state of mind about it."</p> + +<p>The little girl was still crying bitterly; and Bobbie, who +was very tender-hearted, furtively wiped his eyes with the +back of his hand, and looked hard out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Sit you down, child, and have some tea. You're fair +worn out with misery," said Mrs. Funnel kindly. "After +that we'll think of what's to be done. How much did the +medicine cost, child?"</p> + +<p>"Two shillings," said the child, with a fresh burst of +sobbing.</p> + +<p>Bobbie discovered, to his great annoyance, that two large +tears had fallen down his own cheeks out of sympathy; and +at the same moment he seemed to feel his little wash-leather +purse growing so large, that he almost fancied in another +moment it would burst out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>Exactly two shillings were in it—the price of the bottle +of lotion, or of two of Jim's guinea-pigs! Which should +it be?</p> + +<p>"If only I hadn't bought Maria's collar last Monday, I +could have got you a bottle <i>easily</i>," cried Jerry, in great +distress. "I've only twopence-halfpenny left, but <i>do</i> take +it. Oh, you poor little girl, I <i>am</i> so sorry for you!"</p> + +<p>Bobbie felt very guilty, and his money seemed to weigh +upon him like lead. He watched the attractive brown +guinea-pigs—who had been let out of their basket—gambol +about the parlour. His mind was a chaos.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he snatched out his purse, and thrust the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +shillings into the little girl's hand, before she could say +anything.</p> + +<p>"Get the medicine, please," he said, in a gruff voice. "I +don't want the guinea-pigs, thank you, Jim." And opening +the door hurriedly, he darted off across the park towards home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + + +<p>"I do think it was one of the goodest things I ever heard +of," said Jerry confidentially, as she drove with one of the +"light gentlemen" to the pantomime.</p> + +<p>She had just finished an account of Bobbie's heroic +sacrifice of the day before; and as Bobbie himself was +following in a hansom cab, with the other uncle, it was +quite safe to relate the whole story without fear of +interruptions.</p> + +<p>"He wanted those guinea-pigs <i>dreadfully</i>," continued +Jerry, "and he gave everything he had to the poor little +girl. He cried horribly about it, though. He was literally +<i>roaring</i> when we got back from Mrs. Funnel's tea, though +he went and hid himself so that we shouldn't know; but +nurse said his blouse was quite <i>damp</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Shall we go round on our way back, and order Bobbie +some new guinea-pigs, as a surprise?" asked Uncle Ronald, +who had listened to the story with all the respectful +sympathy expected of him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>Jerry gave a shriek of delight. "Oh, how <i>lovely</i>! May I +choose? I know just his favourite colours."</p> + +<p>As Bobbie took his usual stroll into the stable yard on +Monday morning, he was astonished to see Jeptha approaching +him with a large box on a wheelbarrow.</p> + +<p>"Summut for you, Master Bobbie. Come by rail; and +there seems to be a deal of moving about and squeaking +a-goin' on inside!"</p> + +<p>Bobbie unfastened the covers with feverish haste; and +there was a hutch such as he had never even <i>dreamt</i> of, +with a row of four little eager noses sticking out between +the bars.</p> + +<p>A label hanging to the wire said, "From the two light +gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"Well now, Master Bobbie, if ever I saw the like of that!" +cried Jeptha admiringly. "Why, they're all a-sittin' as +comfortable as you please, in a kind of a Eastern palace."</p> + +<p>Bobbie, who was almost delirious with delight and excitement, +ran in to fetch Jerry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jerry, come out!" he cried. "The light gentlemen—in +a splendid blue cage with red stripes, come by +train! And such guinea-pigs! Just the kind I wanted—two +long-hair. Oh, I do think this is the splendidest day +of my life, and as long as I live I won't never forget it!"</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Soap-Bubble Stories, by Fanny Barry + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOAP-BUBBLE STORIES *** + +***** This file should be named 28263-h.htm or 28263-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/2/6/28263/ + +Produced by Marcia Brooks, Woodie4, David Edwards and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> |