initial commit of ebook 28619HEADmain

46 files changed, 17753 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6833f05
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitattributes
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+* text=auto
+*.txt text
+*.md text
diff --git a/28619-8.txt b/28619-8.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..00f9f50
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-8.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5789 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cuckoo Clock
+
+Author: Mrs. Molesworth
+
+Illustrator: Maria L. Kirk
+
+Release Date: April 27, 2009 [EBook #28619]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+SIXTH IMPRESSION
+
+
+
+
+    "Stories All Children Love"
+
+    A SET OF CHILDREN'S CLASSICS THAT SHOULD BE IN EVERY WINTER HOME AND
+    SUMMER COTTAGE
+
+    Cornelli
+    By JOHANNA SPYRI
+    Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK
+
+    A Child's Garden of Verses
+    By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+    The Little Lame Prince & OTHER STORIES
+    By MISS MULOCK
+
+    Gulliver's Travels
+    By JONATHAN SWIFT
+
+    The Water Babies
+    By CHARLES KINGSLEY
+
+    Pinocchio
+    By C. COLLODI
+
+    Robinson Crusoe
+    By DANIEL DEFOE
+
+    Heidi By JOHANNA SPYRI
+    Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK
+
+    The Cuckoo Clock
+    By MRS. MOLESWORTH
+
+    The Swiss Family Robinson
+    Edited by G. E. MITTON
+
+    The Princess and Curdie
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    The Princess and the Goblin
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    At the Back of the North Wind
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    A Dog of Flanders By "OUIDA"
+
+    Bimbi By "OUIDA"
+
+    Mopsa, the Fairy By JEAN INGELOW
+
+    The Chronicles of Fairyland
+    By FERGUS HUME
+
+    Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales
+
+    _Each Volume Beautifully Illustrated in Color._
+
+    _Decorated Cloth. Other Books in This Set are in Preparation._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A LITTLE GIRL DANCED INTO THE ROOM     _Page 107_]
+
+
+
+
+    THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+    BY
+    MRS. MOLESWORTH
+
+
+    _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY_
+    MARIA L. KIRK
+
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
+    J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS
+PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+    To
+
+    MARY JOSEPHINE
+
+    AND TO THE DEAR MEMORY OF HER BROTHER
+
+    THOMAS GRINDAL
+
+    BOTH FRIENDLY LITTLE CRITICS OF MY CHILDREN'S STORIES
+
+    _Edinburgh, 1877_
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+  CHAPTER                                                PAGE
+
+       I. The Old House                                    11
+
+      II. _Im_patient Griselda                             30
+
+     III. Obeying Orders                                   48
+
+      IV. The Country of the Nodding Mandarins             70
+
+       V. Pictures                                         95
+
+      VI. Rubbed the Wrong Way                            120
+
+     VII. Butterfly-Land                                  140
+
+    VIII. Master Phil                                     163
+
+      IX. Up and Down the Chimney                         184
+
+       X. The Other Side of the Moon                      209
+
+      XI. "Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Good-bye!"                     227
+
+
+    THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+    A Legend of Donegal                                   247
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+    A Little Girl Danced Into the Room         _Frontispiece_
+
+    "Have You Got a Cuckoo in a Cage?"                     19
+
+    She Could Not Help Very Softly Clapping Her Hands      51
+
+    "Are You Comfortable?" Inquired the Cuckoo             71
+
+    He Flapped His Wings, And Instantly a Palanquin
+    Appeared at the Foot of the Steps                      88
+
+    She Peered in with Great Satisfaction                 153
+
+    "But I May See You Again," Said Phil                  177
+
+    It Was Rowed by a Little Figure                       224
+
+
+
+
+        "Now, these little folks, like most girls and boys,
+        Loved fairy tales even better than toys.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+        And they knew that in flowers on the spray
+        Tiny spirits are hidden away,
+        That frisk at night on the forest green,
+        When earth is bathed in dewy sheen--
+        And shining halls of pearl and gem,
+        The Regions of Fancy--were open to them."
+
+    "... just as any little child has been guided towards the true
+    paradise by its fairy dreams of bliss."--E. A. Abbott.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE OLD HOUSE
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Somewhat back from the village street
+    Stands the old-fashioned country seat."
+
+
+Once upon a time in an old town, in an old street, there stood a very
+old house. Such a house as you could hardly find nowadays, however you
+searched, for it belonged to a gone-by time--a time now quite passed
+away.
+
+It stood in a street, but yet it was not like a town house, for though
+the front opened right on to the pavement, the back windows looked out
+upon a beautiful, quaintly terraced garden, with old trees growing so
+thick and close together that in summer it was like living on the edge
+of a forest to be near them; and even in winter the web of their
+interlaced branches hid all clear view behind.
+
+There was a colony of rooks in this old garden. Year after year they
+held their parliaments and cawed and chattered and fussed; year after
+year they built their nests and hatched their eggs; year after year, I
+_suppose_, the old ones gradually died off and the young ones took their
+place, though, but for knowing this _must_ be so, no one would have
+suspected it, for to all appearance the rooks were always the same--ever
+and always the same.
+
+Time indeed seemed to stand still in and all about the old house, as if
+it and the people who inhabited it had got _so_ old that they could not
+get any older, and had outlived the possibility of change.
+
+But one day at last there did come a change. Late in the dusk of an
+autumn afternoon a carriage drove up to the door of the old house, came
+rattling over the stones with a sudden noisy clatter that sounded quite
+impertinent, startling the rooks just as they were composing themselves
+to rest, and setting them all wondering what could be the matter.
+
+A little girl was the matter! A little girl in a grey merino frock, and
+grey beaver bonnet, grey tippet and grey gloves--all grey together, even
+to her eyes, all except her round rosy face and bright brown hair. Her
+name even was rather grey, for it was Griselda.
+
+A gentleman lifted her out of the carriage and disappeared with her into
+the house, and later that same evening the gentleman came out of the
+house and got into the carriage which had come back for him again, and
+drove away. That was all that the rooks saw of the change that had come
+to the old house. Shall we go inside to see more?
+
+Up the shallow, wide, old-fashioned staircase, past the wainscoted
+walls, dark and shining like a mirror, down a long narrow passage with
+many doors, which but for their gleaming brass handles one would not
+have known were there, the oldest of the three old servants led little
+Griselda, so tired and sleepy that her supper had been left almost
+untasted, to the room prepared for her. It was a queer room, for
+everything in the house was queer; but in the dancing light of the fire
+burning brightly in the tiled grate, it looked cheerful enough.
+
+"I am glad there's a fire," said the child. "Will it keep alight till
+the morning, do you think?"
+
+The old servant shook her head.
+
+"'Twould not be safe to leave it so that it would burn till morning,"
+she said. "When you are in bed and asleep, little missie, you won't want
+the fire. Bed's the warmest place."
+
+"It isn't for that I want it," said Griselda; "it's for the light I like
+it. This house all looks so dark to me, and yet there seem to be lights
+hidden in the walls too, they shine so."
+
+The old servant smiled.
+
+"It will all seem strange to you, no doubt," she said; "but you'll get
+to like it, missie. 'Tis a _good_ old house, and those that know best
+love it well."
+
+"Whom do you mean?" said Griselda. "Do you mean my great-aunts?"
+
+"Ah, yes, and others beside," replied the old woman. "The rooks love it
+well, and others beside. Did you ever hear tell of the 'good people,'
+missie, over the sea where you come from?"
+
+"Fairies, do you mean?" cried Griselda, her eyes sparkling. "Of course
+I've _heard_ of them, but I never saw any. Did you ever?"
+
+"I couldn't say," answered the old woman. "My mind is not young like
+yours, missie, and there are times when strange memories come back to me
+as of sights and sounds in a dream. I am too old to see and hear as I
+once could. We are all old here, missie. 'Twas time something young came
+to the old house again."
+
+"How strange and queer everything seems!" thought Griselda, as she got
+into bed. "I don't feel as if I belonged to it a bit. And they are all
+_so_ old; perhaps they won't like having a child among them?"
+
+The very same thought that had occurred to the rooks! They could not
+decide as to the fors and againsts at all, so they settled to put it to
+the vote the next morning, and in the meantime they and Griselda all
+went to sleep.
+
+I never heard if _they_ slept well that night; after such unusual
+excitement it was hardly to be expected they would. But Griselda, being
+a little girl and not a rook, was so tired that two minutes after she
+had tucked herself up in bed she was quite sound asleep, and did not
+wake for several hours.
+
+"I wonder what it will all look like in the morning," was her last
+waking thought. "If it was summer now, or spring, I shouldn't
+mind--there would always be something nice to do then."
+
+As sometimes happens, when she woke again, very early in the morning,
+long before it was light, her thoughts went straight on with the same
+subject.
+
+"If it was summer now, or spring," she repeated to herself, just as if
+she had not been asleep at all--like the man who fell into a trance for
+a hundred years just as he was saying "it is bitt--" and when he woke up
+again finished the sentence as if nothing had happened--"erly cold." "If
+only it was spring," thought Griselda.
+
+Just as she had got so far in her thoughts, she gave a great start. What
+was it she heard? Could her wish have come true? Was this fairyland
+indeed that she had got to, where one only needs to _wish_, for it to
+_be_? She rubbed her eyes, but it was too dark to see; _that_ was not
+very fairyland like, but her ears she felt certain had not deceived her:
+she was quite, quite sure that she had heard the cuckoo!
+
+She listened with all her might, but she did not hear it again. Could
+it, after all, have been fancy? She grew sleepy at last, and was just
+dropping off when--yes, there it was again, as clear and distinct as
+possible--"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!" three, four, _five_ times, then
+perfect silence as before.
+
+"What a funny cuckoo," said Griselda to herself. "I could almost fancy
+it was in the house. I wonder if my great-aunts have a tame cuckoo in a
+cage? I don't _think_ I ever heard of such a thing, but this is such a
+queer house; everything seems different in it--perhaps they have a tame
+cuckoo. I'll ask them in the morning. It's very nice to hear, whatever
+it is."
+
+[Illustration: "HAVE YOU GOT A CUCKOO IN A CAGE?"]
+
+And, with a pleasant feeling of companionship, a sense that she was not
+the only living creature awake in this dark world, Griselda lay
+listening, contentedly enough, for the sweet, fresh notes of the
+cuckoo's friendly greeting. But before it sounded again through the
+silent house she was once more fast asleep. And this time she slept
+till daylight had found its way into all but the _very_ darkest nooks
+and crannies of the ancient dwelling.
+
+She dressed herself carefully, for she had been warned that her aunts
+loved neatness and precision; she fastened each button of her grey
+frock, and tied down her hair as smooth as such a brown tangle _could_
+be tied down; and, absorbed with these weighty cares, she forgot all
+about the cuckoo for the time. It was not till she was sitting at
+breakfast with her aunts that she remembered it, or rather was reminded
+of it, by some little remark that was made about the friendly robins on
+the terrace walk outside.
+
+"Oh, aunt," she exclaimed, stopping short half-way the journey to her
+mouth of a spoonful of bread and milk, "have you got a cuckoo in a
+cage?"
+
+"A cuckoo in a cage," repeated her elder aunt, Miss Grizzel; "what is
+the child talking about?"
+
+"In a cage!" echoed Miss Tabitha, "a cuckoo in a cage!"
+
+"There is a cuckoo somewhere in the house," said Griselda; "I heard it
+in the night. It couldn't have been out-of-doors, could it? It would be
+too cold."
+
+The aunts looked at each other with a little smile. "So like her
+grandmother," they whispered. Then said Miss Grizzel--
+
+"We have a cuckoo, my dear, though it isn't in a cage, and it isn't
+exactly the sort of cuckoo you are thinking of. It lives in a clock."
+
+"In a clock," repeated Miss Tabitha, as if to confirm her sister's
+statement.
+
+"In a clock!" exclaimed Griselda, opening her grey eyes very wide.
+
+It sounded something like the three bears, all speaking one after the
+other, only Griselda's voice was not like Tiny's; it was the loudest of
+the three.
+
+"In a clock!" she exclaimed; "but it can't be alive, then?"
+
+"Why not?" said Miss Grizzel.
+
+"I don't know," replied Griselda, looking puzzled.
+
+"I knew a little girl once," pursued Miss Grizzel, "who was quite of
+opinion the cuckoo _was_ alive, and nothing would have persuaded her it
+was not. Finish your breakfast, my dear, and then if you like you shall
+come with me and see the cuckoo for yourself."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, going on with her bread and
+milk.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Tabitha, "you shall see the cuckoo for yourself."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Tabitha," said Griselda. It was rather a bother to have
+always to say "thank you," or "no, thank you," twice, but Griselda
+thought it was polite to do so, as Aunt Tabitha always repeated
+everything that Aunt Grizzel said. It wouldn't have mattered so much if
+Aunt Tabitha had said it _at once_ after Miss Grizzel, but as she
+generally made a little pause between, it was sometimes rather awkward.
+But of course it was better to say "thank you" or "no, thank you" twice
+over than to hurt Aunt Tabitha's feelings.
+
+After breakfast Aunt Grizzel was as good as her word. She took Griselda
+through several of the rooms in the house, pointing out all the
+curiosities, and telling all the histories of the rooms and their
+contents; and Griselda liked to listen, only in every room they came to,
+she wondered _when_ they would get to the room where lived the cuckoo.
+
+Aunt Tabitha did not come with them, for she was rather rheumatic. On
+the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a _very_
+long time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and
+possibly, if Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the
+"thank you's" or "no, thank you's" twice over.
+
+The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had
+seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for the view from the
+windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of everything.
+
+"We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching
+sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering.
+
+"I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is a
+very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is
+winter, or nearly winter."
+
+Miss Grizzel looked pleased.
+
+"My pot-pourri," she explained.
+
+They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a
+handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must once
+have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling of awe
+had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient drawing-room. What
+grand parties there must have been in it long ago! But as for dancing in
+it _now_--dancing, or laughing, or chattering--such a thing was quite
+impossible to imagine!
+
+Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a marvellous
+Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was made in the
+shape of a temple, or a palace--Griselda was not sure which. Any way, it
+was very delicious and wonderful. At the door stood, one on each side,
+two solemn mandarins; or, to speak more correctly, perhaps I should say,
+a mandarin and his wife, for the right-hand figure was evidently
+intended to be a lady.
+
+Miss Grizzel gently touched their heads. Forthwith, to Griselda's
+astonishment, they began solemnly to nod.
+
+"Oh, how do you make them do that, Aunt Grizzel?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Never you mind, my dear; it wouldn't do for _you_ to try to make them
+nod. They wouldn't like it," replied Miss Grizzel mysteriously. "Respect
+to your elders, my dear, always remember that. The mandarins are _many_
+years older than you--older than I myself, in fact."
+
+Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took
+such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing.
+
+"Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching
+a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the cabinet. "You may
+smell it, my dear."
+
+Nothing loth, Griselda buried her round little nose in the fragrant
+leaves.
+
+"It's lovely," she said. "May I smell it whenever I like, Aunt Grizzel?"
+
+"We shall see," replied her aunt. "It isn't _every_ little girl, you
+know, that we could trust to come into the great saloon alone."
+
+"No," said Griselda meekly.
+
+Miss Grizzel led the way to a door opposite to that by which they had
+entered. She opened it and passed through, Griselda following, into a
+small ante-room.
+
+"It is on the stroke of ten," said Miss Grizzel, consulting her watch;
+"now, my dear, you shall make acquaintance with our cuckoo."
+
+The cuckoo "that lived in a clock!" Griselda gazed round her eagerly.
+Where was the clock? She could see nothing in the least like one, only
+up on the wall in one corner was what looked like a miniature house, of
+dark brown carved wood. It was not so _very_ like a house, but it
+certainly had a roof--a roof with deep projecting eaves; and, looking
+closer, yes, it _was_ a clock, after all, only the figures, which had
+once been gilt, had grown dim with age, like everything else, and the
+hands at a little distance were hardly to be distinguished from the
+face.
+
+Miss Grizzel stood perfectly still, looking up at the clock; Griselda
+beside her, in breathless expectation. Presently there came a sort of
+distant rumbling. _Something_ was going to happen. Suddenly two little
+doors above the clock face, which Griselda had not known were there,
+sprang open with a burst and out flew a cuckoo, flapped his wings, and
+uttered his pretty cry, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" Miss Grizzel counted
+aloud, "Seven, eight, nine, ten." "Yes, he never makes a mistake," she
+added triumphantly. "All these long years I have never known him wrong.
+There are no such clocks made nowadays, I can assure you, my dear."
+
+"But _is_ it a clock? Isn't he alive?" exclaimed Griselda. "He looked at
+me and nodded his head, before he flapped his wings and went in to his
+house again--he did indeed, aunt," she said earnestly; "just like
+saying, 'How do you do?' to me."
+
+Again Miss Grizzel smiled, the same odd yet pleased smile that Griselda
+had seen on her face at breakfast. "Just what Sybilla used to say," she
+murmured. "Well, my dear," she added aloud, "it is quite right he
+_should_ say, 'How do you do?' to you. It is the first time he has seen
+_you_, though many a year ago he knew your dear grandmother, and your
+father, too, when he was a little boy. You will find him a good friend,
+and one that can teach you many lessons."
+
+"What, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, looking puzzled.
+
+"Punctuality, for one thing, and faithful discharge of duty," replied
+Miss Grizzel.
+
+"May I come to see the cuckoo--to watch for him coming out, sometimes?"
+asked Griselda, who felt as if she could spend all day looking up at the
+clock, watching for her little friend's appearance.
+
+"You will see him several times a day," said her aunt, "for it is in
+this little room I intend you to prepare your tasks. It is nice and
+quiet, and nothing to disturb you, and close to the room where your Aunt
+Tabitha and I usually sit."
+
+So saying, Miss Grizzel opened a second door in the little ante-room,
+and, to Griselda's surprise, at the foot of a short flight of stairs
+through another door, half open, she caught sight of her Aunt Tabitha,
+knitting quietly by the fire, in the room in which they had breakfasted.
+
+"What a _very_ funny house it is, Aunt Grizzel," she said, as she
+followed her aunt down the steps. "Every room has so many doors, and you
+come back to where you were just when you think you are ever so far off.
+I shall never be able to find my way about."
+
+"Oh yes, you will, my dear, very soon," said her aunt encouragingly.
+
+"She is very kind," thought Griselda; "but I wish she wouldn't call my
+lessons tasks. It makes them sound so dreadfully hard. But, any way, I'm
+glad I'm to do them in the room where that dear cuckoo lives."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+_IM_PATIENT GRISELDA
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "... fairies but seldom appear;
+      If we do wrong we must expect
+    That it will cost us dear!"
+
+
+It was all very well for a few days. Griselda found plenty to amuse
+herself with while the novelty lasted, enough to prevent her missing
+_very_ badly the home she had left "over the sea," and the troop of
+noisy merry brothers who teased and petted her. Of course she _missed_
+them, but not "dreadfully." She was neither homesick nor "dull."
+
+It was not quite such smooth sailing when lessons began. She did not
+dislike lessons; in fact, she had always thought she was rather fond of
+them. But the having to do them alone was not lively, and her teachers
+were very strict. The worst of all was the writing and arithmetic
+master, a funny little old man who wore knee-breeches and took snuff,
+and called her aunt "Madame," bowing formally whenever he addressed her.
+He screwed Griselda up into such an unnatural attitude to write her
+copies, that she really felt as if she would never come straight and
+loose again; and the arithmetic part of his instructions was even worse.
+Oh! what sums in addition he gave her! Griselda had never been partial
+to sums, and her rather easy-going governess at home had not, to tell
+the truth, been partial to them either. And Mr.--I can't remember the
+little old gentleman's name. Suppose we call him Mr. Kneebreeches--Mr.
+Kneebreeches, when he found this out, conscientiously put her back to
+the very beginning.
+
+It was dreadful, really. He came twice a week, and the days he didn't
+come were as bad as those he did, for he left her a whole _row_, I was
+going to say, but you couldn't call Mr. Kneebreeches' addition sums
+"rows," they were far too fat and wide across to be so spoken of!--whole
+slatefuls of these terrible mountains of figures to climb wearily to the
+top of. And not to climb _once_ up merely. _The_ terrible thing was Mr.
+Kneebreeches' favourite method of what he called "proving." I can't
+explain it--it is far beyond my poor powers--but it had something to do
+with cutting off the top line, after you had added it all up and had
+actually done the sum, you understand--cutting off the top line and
+adding the long rows up again without it, and then joining it on again
+somewhere else.
+
+"I wouldn't mind so much," said poor Griselda, one day, "if it was any
+good. But you see, Aunt Grizzel, it isn't. For I'm just as likely to do
+the _proving_ wrong as the sum itself--more likely, for I'm always so
+tired when I get to the proving--and so all that's proved is that
+_something's_ wrong, and I'm sure that isn't any good, except to make me
+cross."
+
+"Hush!" said her aunt gravely. "That is not the way for a little girl to
+speak. Improve these golden hours of youth, Griselda; they will never
+return."
+
+"I hope not," muttered Griselda, "if it means doing sums."
+
+Miss Grizzel fortunately was a little deaf; she did not hear this
+remark. Just then the cuckoo clock struck eleven.
+
+"Good little cuckoo," said Miss Grizzel. "What an example he sets you.
+His life is spent in the faithful discharge of duty;" and so saying she
+left the room.
+
+The cuckoo was still telling the hour--eleven took a good while. It
+seemed to Griselda that the bird repeated her aunt's last words.
+"Faith--ful, dis--charge, of--your, du--ty," he said, "faith--ful."
+
+"You horrid little creature!" exclaimed Griselda in a passion; "what
+business have you to mock me?"
+
+She seized a book, the first that came to hand, and flung it at the bird
+who was just beginning his eleventh cuckoo. He disappeared with a snap,
+disappeared without flapping his wings, or, as Griselda always fancied
+he did, giving her a friendly nod, and in an instant all was silent.
+
+Griselda felt a little frightened. What had she done? She looked up at
+the clock. It seemed just the same as usual, the cuckoo's doors closely
+shut, no sign of any disturbance. Could it have been her fancy only that
+he had sprung back more hastily than he would have done but for her
+throwing the book at him? She began to hope so, and tried to go on with
+her lessons. But it was no use. Though she really gave her best
+attention to the long addition sums, and found that by so doing she
+managed them much better than before, she could not feel happy or at
+ease. Every few minutes she glanced up at the clock, as if expecting
+the cuckoo to come out, though she knew quite well there was no chance
+of his doing so till twelve o'clock, as it was only the hours, not the
+half hours and quarters, that he told.
+
+"I wish it was twelve o'clock," she said to herself anxiously more than
+once.
+
+If only the clock had not been so very high up on the wall, she would
+have been tempted to climb up and open the little doors, and peep in to
+satisfy herself as to the cuckoo's condition. But there was no
+possibility of this. The clock was far, very far above her reach, and
+there was no high piece of furniture standing near, upon which she could
+have climbed to get to it. There was nothing to be done but to wait for
+twelve o'clock.
+
+And, after all, she did not wait for twelve o'clock, for just about
+half-past eleven, Miss Grizzel's voice was heard calling to her to put
+on her hat and cloak quickly, and come out to walk up and down the
+terrace with her.
+
+"It is fine just now," said Miss Grizzel, "but there is a prospect of
+rain before long. You must leave your lessons for the present, and
+finish them in the afternoon."
+
+"I have finished them," said Griselda, meekly.
+
+"_All?_" inquired her aunt.
+
+"Yes, all," replied Griselda.
+
+"Ah, well, then, this afternoon, if the rain holds off, we shall drive
+to Merrybrow Hall, and inquire for the health of your dear godmother,
+Lady Lavander," said Miss Grizzel.
+
+Poor Griselda! There were few things she disliked more than a drive with
+her aunts. They went in the old yellow chariot, with all the windows up,
+and of course Griselda had to sit with her back to the horses, which
+made her very uncomfortable when she had no air, and had to sit still
+for so long.
+
+Merrybrow Hall was a large house, quite as old and much grander, but not
+nearly so wonderful as the home of Griselda's aunts. It was six miles
+off, and it took a very long time indeed to drive there in the rumbling
+old chariot, for the old horses were fat and wheezy, and the old
+coachman fat and wheezy too. Lady Lavander was, of course, old too--very
+old indeed, and rather grumpy and very deaf. Miss Grizzel and Miss
+Tabitha had the greatest respect for her; she always called them "My
+dear," as if they were quite girls, and they listened to all she said as
+if her words were of gold. For some mysterious reason she had been
+invited to be Griselda's godmother; but, as she had never shown her any
+proof of affection beyond giving her a prayer-book, and hoping, whenever
+she saw her, that she was "a good little miss," Griselda did not feel
+any particular cause for gratitude to her.
+
+The drive seemed longer and duller than ever this afternoon, but
+Griselda bore it meekly; and when Lady Lavander, as usual, expressed her
+hopes about her, the little girl looked down modestly, feeling her
+cheeks grow scarlet. "I am not a good little girl at all," she felt
+inclined to call out. "I'm very bad and cruel. I believe I've killed the
+dear little cuckoo."
+
+What _would_ the three old ladies have thought if she had called it out?
+As it was, Lady Lavander patted her approvingly, said she loved to see
+young people modest and humble-minded, and gave her a slice of very
+highly-spiced, rather musty gingerbread, which Griselda couldn't bear.
+
+All the way home Griselda felt in a fever of impatience to rush up to
+the ante-room and see if the cuckoo was all right again. It was late and
+dark when the chariot at last stopped at the door of the old house. Miss
+Grizzel got out slowly, and still more slowly Miss Tabitha followed her.
+Griselda was obliged to restrain herself and move demurely.
+
+"It is past your supper-time, my dear," said Miss Grizzel. "Go up at
+once to your room, and Dorcas shall bring some supper to you. Late hours
+are bad for young people."
+
+Griselda obediently wished her aunts good-night, and went quietly
+upstairs. But once out of sight, at the first landing, she changed her
+pace. She turned to the left instead of to the right, which led to her
+own room, and flew rather than ran along the dimly-lighted passage, at
+the end of which a door led into the great saloon. She opened the door.
+All was quite dark. It was impossible to fly or run across the great
+saloon! Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter.
+Griselda _felt_ her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and
+the pot-pourri jar till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and
+now, knowing her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All
+was silent, save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if
+_only_ the cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a
+weight would be lifted off Griselda's heart!
+
+She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or
+it might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then
+hearing Miss Grizzel's voice in the distance, she felt that she dared
+not stay any longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again.
+Just as she got to the door it seemed to her that something softly
+brushed her cheek, and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded, as it were,
+in the air close to her.
+
+Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer.
+
+Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her ear.
+
+"I _must_ go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon
+without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many breakable
+treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long passage
+again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with her
+supper.
+
+Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the
+cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a start to
+find it was _only_ fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came
+down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was alone
+in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her what was the
+matter.
+
+"I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister
+Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best.
+Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or----"
+
+But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this
+moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room--her cap awry, her
+shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever
+seen her so discomposed before.
+
+"Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what can be going to happen? The
+cuckoo clock has stopped."
+
+"The cuckoo clock has stopped!" repeated Miss Tabitha, holding up her
+hands; "_im_possible!"
+
+"But it has, or rather I should say--dear me, I am so upset I cannot
+explain myself--the _cuckoo_ has stopped. The clock is going on, but the
+cuckoo has not told the hours, and Dorcas is of opinion that he left off
+doing so yesterday. What can be going to happen? What shall we do?"
+
+"What can we do?" said Miss Tabitha. "Should we send for the
+watch-maker?"
+
+Miss Grizzel shook her head.
+
+"'Twould be worse than useless. Were we to search the world over, we
+could find no one to put it right. Fifty years and more, Tabitha, fifty
+years and more, it has never missed an hour! We are getting old,
+Tabitha, our day is nearly over; perhaps 'tis to remind us of this."
+
+Miss Tabitha did not reply. She was weeping silently. The old ladies
+seemed to have forgotten the presence of their niece, but Griselda could
+not bear to see their distress. She finished her breakfast as quickly as
+she could, and left the room.
+
+On her way upstairs she met Dorcas.
+
+"Have you heard what has happened, little missie?" said the old servant.
+
+"Yes," replied Griselda.
+
+"My ladies are in great trouble," continued Dorcas, who seemed inclined
+to be more communicative than usual, "and no wonder. For fifty years
+that clock has never gone wrong."
+
+"Can't it be put right?" asked the child.
+
+Dorcas shook her head.
+
+"No good would come of interfering," she said. "What must be, must be.
+The luck of the house hangs on that clock. Its maker spent a good part
+of his life over it, and his last words were that it would bring good
+luck to the house that owned it, but that trouble would follow its
+silence. It's my belief," she added solemnly, "that it's a _fairy_
+clock, neither more nor less, for good luck it has brought there's no
+denying. There are no cows like ours, missie--their milk is a proverb
+hereabouts; there are no hens like ours for laying all the year round;
+there are no roses like ours. And there's always a friendly feeling in
+this house, and always has been. 'Tis not a house for wrangling and
+jangling, and sharp words. The 'good people' can't stand that. Nothing
+drives them away like ill-temper or anger."
+
+Griselda's conscience gave her a sharp prick. Could it be _her_ doing
+that trouble was coming upon the old house? What a punishment for a
+moment's fit of ill-temper.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk that way, Dorcas," she said; "it makes me so
+unhappy."
+
+"What a feeling heart the child has!" said the old servant as she went
+on her way downstairs. "It's true--she is very like Miss Sybilla."
+
+That day was a very weary and sad one for Griselda. She was oppressed by
+a feeling she did not understand. She knew she had done wrong, but she
+had sorely repented it, and "I do think the cuckoo might have come back
+again," she said to herself, "if he _is_ a fairy; and if he isn't, it
+can't be true what Dorcas says."
+
+Her aunts made no allusion to the subject in her presence, and almost
+seemed to have forgotten that she had known of their distress. They were
+more grave and silent than usual, but otherwise things went on in their
+ordinary way. Griselda spent the morning "at her tasks," in the
+ante-room, but was thankful to get away from the tick-tick of the clock
+in the corner and out into the garden.
+
+But there, alas! it was just as bad. The rooks seemed to know that
+something was the matter; they set to work making such a chatter
+immediately Griselda appeared that she felt inclined to run back into
+the house again.
+
+"I am sure they are talking about me," she said to herself. "Perhaps
+they are fairies too. I am beginning to think I don't like fairies."
+
+She was glad when bed-time came. It was a sort of reproach to her to see
+her aunts so pale and troubled; and though she tried to persuade herself
+that she thought them very silly, she could not throw off the
+uncomfortable feeling.
+
+She was so tired when she went to bed--tired in the disagreeable way
+that comes from a listless, uneasy day--that she fell asleep at once and
+slept heavily. When she woke, which she did suddenly, and with a start,
+it was still perfectly dark, like the first morning that she had wakened
+in the old house. It seemed to her that she had not wakened of
+herself--something had roused her. Yes! there it was again, a very,
+_very_ soft distant "cuckoo." _Was_ it distant? She could not tell.
+Almost she could have fancied it was close to her.
+
+"If it's that cuckoo come back again, I'll catch him!" exclaimed
+Griselda.
+
+She darted out of bed, felt her way to the door, which was closed, and
+opening it let in a rush of moonlight from the unshuttered passage
+window. In another moment her little bare feet were pattering along the
+passage at full speed, in the direction of the great saloon.
+
+For Griselda's childhood among the troop of noisy brothers had taught
+her one lesson--she was afraid of nothing. Or rather perhaps I should
+say she had never learnt that there was anything to be afraid of! And is
+there?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+OBEYING ORDERS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Little girl, thou must thy part fulfil,
+      If we're to take kindly to ours:
+    Then pull up the weeds with a will,
+      And fairies will cherish the flowers."
+
+
+There was moonlight, though not so much, in the saloon and the
+ante-room, too; for though the windows, like those in Griselda's
+bed-room, had the shutters closed, there was a round part at the top,
+high up, which the shutters did not reach to, and in crept, through
+these clear uncovered panes, quite as many moonbeams, you may be sure,
+as could find their way.
+
+Griselda, eager though she was, could not help standing still a moment
+to admire the effect.
+
+"It looks prettier with the light coming in at those holes at the top
+than even if the shutters were open," she said to herself. "How
+goldy-silvery the cabinet looks; and, yes, I do declare, the mandarins
+are nodding! I wonder if it is out of politeness to me, or does Aunt
+Grizzel come in last thing at night and touch them to make them keep
+nodding till morning? I _suppose_ they're a sort of policemen to the
+palace; and I dare say there are all sorts of beautiful things inside.
+How I should like to see all through it!"
+
+But at this moment the faint tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the next
+room, reaching her ear, reminded her of the object of this midnight
+expedition of hers. She hurried into the ante-room.
+
+It looked darker than the great saloon, for it had but one window. But
+through the uncovered space at the top of this window there penetrated
+some brilliant moonbeams, one of which lighted up brightly the face of
+the clock with its queer over-hanging eaves.
+
+Griselda approached it and stood below, looking up.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said softly--very softly.
+
+But there was no reply.
+
+"Cuckoo," she repeated rather more loudly. "Why won't you speak to me? I
+know you are there, and you're not asleep, for I heard your voice in my
+own room. Why won't you come out, cuckoo?"
+
+"Tick-tick," said the clock, but there was no other reply.
+
+Griselda felt ready to cry.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said reproachfully, "I didn't think you were so
+hard-hearted. I have been _so_ unhappy about you, and I was so pleased
+to hear your voice again, for I thought I had killed you, or hurt you
+very badly; and I didn't _mean_ to hurt you, cuckoo. I was sorry the
+moment I had done it, _dreadfully_ sorry. Dear cuckoo, won't you forgive
+me?"
+
+[Illustration: SHE COULD NOT HELP VERY SOFTLY CLAPPING HER HANDS]
+
+There was a little sound at last--a faint _coming_ sound, and by the
+moonlight Griselda saw the doors open, and out flew the cuckoo. He stood
+still for a moment, looked round him as it were, then gently flapped his
+wings, and uttered his usual note--"Cuckoo."
+
+Griselda stood in breathless expectation, but in her delight she could
+not help very softly clapping her hands.
+
+The cuckoo cleared his throat. You never heard such a funny little noise
+as he made; and then, in a very clear, distinct, but yet "cuckoo-y"
+voice, he spoke.
+
+"Griselda," he said, "are you truly sorry?"
+
+"I told you I was," she replied. "But I didn't _feel_ so very naughty,
+cuckoo. I didn't, really. I was only vexed for one minute, and when I
+threw the book I seemed to be a very little in fun, too. And it made me
+so unhappy when you went away, and my poor aunts have been dreadfully
+unhappy too. If you hadn't come back I should have told them tomorrow
+what I had done. I would have told them before, but I was afraid it
+would have made them more unhappy. I thought I had hurt you dreadfully."
+
+"So you did," said the cuckoo.
+
+"But you _look_ quite well," said Griselda.
+
+"It was my _feelings_," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going
+away. I have to obey orders like other people."
+
+Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked.
+
+"Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You can
+understand about obeying _your_ orders, and you see, when you don't,
+things go wrong."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she
+continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home--_hardly_ never, at
+least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them."
+
+"What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things
+go wrong in this house."
+
+"That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda. "It must be with my being a
+child--my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's
+ways."
+
+"About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily.
+
+"And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of
+lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to
+play with."
+
+"There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and
+was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at
+last.
+
+"Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say.
+
+"And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present
+orders and go back to bed."
+
+"Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly.
+
+"You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't
+you?"
+
+"You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for
+of course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts
+of queer things about what fairies like and don't like."
+
+"Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo.
+
+"Dorcas did, and, _of course_, my own common sense did too," replied
+Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else."
+
+"I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird.
+
+Griselda looked puzzled.
+
+"I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much
+difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing."
+
+"What?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at
+you, have you come back for good?"
+
+"Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she
+said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make
+my aunts happy again?"
+
+"You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed."
+
+"Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to
+let me know when you've considered."
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was
+meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact
+second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.
+
+She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to
+the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel
+the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as
+possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the
+moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell
+asleep; and it seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft
+feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in
+her ear.
+
+When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the
+wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale
+grey-blue sky.
+
+"It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters
+and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so
+beautifully unsleepy now. I must dress quickly--how nice it will be to
+see my aunts look happy again! I don't even care if they scold me for
+being late."
+
+But, after all, it was not so much later than usual; it was only a much
+brighter morning than they had had for some time. Griselda did dress
+herself very quickly, however. As she went downstairs two or three of
+the clocks in the house, for there were several, were striking eight.
+These clocks must have been a little before the right time, for it was
+not till they had again relapsed into silence that there rang out from
+the ante-room the clear sweet tones, eight times repeated, of "Cuckoo."
+
+Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were already at the breakfast-table, but
+they received their little niece most graciously. Nothing was said about
+the clock, however, till about half-way through the meal, when Griselda,
+full of eagerness to know if her aunts were aware of the cuckoo's
+return, could restrain herself no longer.
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," she said, "isn't the cuckoo all right again?"
+
+"Yes, my dear. I am delighted to say it is," replied Miss Grizzel.
+
+"Did you get it put right, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, slyly.
+
+"Little girls should not ask so many questions," replied Miss Grizzel,
+mysteriously. "It _is_ all right again, and that is enough. During fifty
+years that cuckoo has never, till yesterday, missed an hour. If you, in
+your sphere, my dear, do as well during fifty years, you won't have done
+badly."
+
+"No, indeed, you won't have done badly," repeated Miss Tabitha.
+
+But though the two old ladies thus tried to improve the occasion by a
+little lecturing, Griselda could see that at the bottom of their hearts
+they were both so happy that, even if she had been very naughty indeed,
+they could hardly have made up their minds to scold her.
+
+She was not at all inclined to be naughty this day. She had something to
+think about and look forward to, which made her quite a different little
+girl, and made her take heart in doing her lessons as well as she
+possibly could.
+
+"I wonder when the cuckoo will have considered enough about my having no
+one to play with?" she said to herself, as she was walking up and down
+the terrace at the back of the house.
+
+"Caw, caw!" screamed a rook just over her head, as if in answer to her
+thought.
+
+Griselda looked up at him.
+
+"Your voice isn't half so pretty as the cuckoo's, Mr. Rook," she said.
+"All the same, I dare say I should make friends with you, if I
+understood what you meant. How funny it would be to know all the
+languages of the birds and the beasts, like the prince in the fairy
+tale! I wonder if I should wish for that, if a fairy gave me a wish? No,
+I don't think I would. I'd _far_ rather have the fairy carpet that would
+take you anywhere you liked in a minute. I'd go to China to see if all
+the people there look like Aunt Grizzel's mandarins; and I'd first of
+all, of course, go to fairyland."
+
+"You must come in now, little missie," said Dorcas's voice. "Miss
+Grizzel says you have had play enough, and there's a nice fire in the
+ante-room for you to do your lessons by."
+
+"Play!" repeated Griselda indignantly, as she turned to follow the old
+servant. "Do you call walking up and down the terrace 'play,' Dorcas? I
+mustn't loiter even to pick a flower, if there were any, for fear of
+catching cold, and I mustn't run for fear of overheating myself. I
+declare, Dorcas, if I don't have some play soon, or something to amuse
+me, I think I'll run away."
+
+"Nay, nay, missie, don't talk like that. You'd never do anything so
+naughty, and you so like Miss Sybilla, who was so good."
+
+"Dorcas, I'm tired of being told I'm like Miss Sybilla," said Griselda,
+impatiently. "She was my grandmother; no one would like to be told they
+were like their grandmother. It makes me feel as if my face must be all
+screwy up and wrinkly, and as if I should have spectacles on and a wig."
+
+"_That_ is not like what Miss Sybilla was when I first saw her," said
+Dorcas. "She was younger than you, missie, and as pretty as a fairy."
+
+"_Was_ she?" exclaimed Griselda, stopping short.
+
+"Yes, indeed she was. She might have been a fairy, so sweet she was and
+gentle--and yet so merry. Every creature loved her; even the animals
+about seemed to know her, as if she was one of themselves. She brought
+good luck to the house, and it was a sad day when she left it."
+
+"I thought you said it was the cuckoo that brought good luck?" said
+Griselda.
+
+"Well, so it was. The cuckoo and Miss Sybilla came here the same day. It
+was left to her by her mother's father, with whom she had lived since
+she was a baby, and when he died she came here to her sisters. She
+wasn't _own_ sister to my ladies, you see, missie. Her mother had come
+from Germany, and it was in some strange place there, where her
+grandfather lived, that the cuckoo clock was made. They make wonderful
+clocks there, I've been told, but none more wonderful than our cuckoo,
+I'm sure."
+
+"No, I'm _sure_ not," said Griselda, softly. "Why didn't Miss Sybilla
+take it with her when she was married and went away?"
+
+"She knew her sisters were so fond of it. It was like a memory of her
+left behind for them. It was like a part of her. And do you know,
+missie, the night she died--she died soon after your father was born, a
+year after she was married--for a whole hour, from twelve to one, that
+cuckoo went on cuckooing in a soft, sad way, like some living creature
+in trouble. Of course, we did not know anything was wrong with her, and
+folks said something had caught some of the springs of the works; but
+_I_ didn't think so, and never shall. And----"
+
+But here Dorcas's reminiscences were abruptly brought to a close by Miss
+Grizzel's appearance at the other end of the terrace.
+
+"Griselda, what are you loitering so for? Dorcas, you should have
+hastened, not delayed Miss Griselda."
+
+So Griselda was hurried off to her lessons, and Dorcas to her kitchen.
+But Griselda did not much mind. She had plenty to think of and wonder
+about, and she liked to do her lessons in the ante-room, with the
+tick-tick of the clock in her ears, and the feeling that _perhaps_ the
+cuckoo was watching her through some invisible peep-hole in his closed
+doors.
+
+"And if he sees," thought Griselda, "if he sees how hard I am trying to
+do my lessons well, it will perhaps make him be quick about
+'considering.'"
+
+So she did try very hard. And she didn't speak to the cuckoo when he
+came out to say it was four o'clock. She was busy, and he was busy. She
+felt it was better to wait till he gave her some sign of being ready to
+talk to her again.
+
+For fairies, you know, children, however charming, are sometimes
+_rather_ queer to have to do with. They don't like to be interfered
+with, or treated except with very great respect, and they have their own
+ideas about what is proper and what isn't, I can assure you.
+
+I suppose it was with working so hard at her lessons--most people say
+it was with having been up the night before, running about the house in
+the moonlight; but as she had never felt so "fresh" in her life as when
+she got up that morning, it could hardly have been that--that Griselda
+felt so tired and sleepy that evening, she could hardly keep her eyes
+open. She begged to go to bed quite half an hour earlier than usual,
+which made Miss Tabitha afraid again that she was going to be ill. But
+as there is nothing better for children than to go to bed early, even if
+they _are_ going to be ill, Miss Grizzel told her to say good-night, and
+to ask Dorcas to give her a wine-glassful of elderberry wine, nice and
+hot, after she was in bed.
+
+Griselda had no objection to the elderberry wine, though she felt she
+was having it on false pretences. She certainly did not need it to send
+her to sleep, for almost before her head touched the pillow she was as
+sound as a top. She had slept a good long while, when again she wakened
+suddenly--just as she had done the night before, and again with the
+feeling that something had wakened her. And the queer thing was that the
+moment she was awake she felt so _very_ awake--she had no inclination to
+stretch and yawn and hope it wasn't quite time to get up, and think how
+nice and warm bed was, and how cold it was outside! She sat straight up,
+and peered out into the darkness, feeling quite ready for an adventure.
+
+"Is it you, cuckoo?" she said softly.
+
+There was no answer, but listening intently, the child fancied she heard
+a faint rustling or fluttering in the corner of the room by the door.
+She got up and, feeling her way, opened it, and the instant she had done
+so she heard, a few steps only in front of her it seemed, the familiar
+notes, very, _very_ soft and whispered, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+It went on and on, down the passage, Griselda trotting after. There was
+no moon to-night, heavy clouds had quite hidden it, and outside the
+rain was falling heavily. Griselda could hear it on the window-panes,
+through the closed shutters and all. But dark as it was, she made her
+way along without any difficulty, down the passage, across the great
+saloon, in through the ante-room door, guided only by the little voice
+now and then to be heard in front of her. She came to a standstill right
+before the clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting.
+
+She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound,
+then the doors above the clock face opened--she heard them open, it was
+far too dark to see--and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it
+was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one
+stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at once), the bird sang
+out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+"Good evening, cuckoo," said Griselda, when he had finished.
+
+"Good morning, you mean," said the cuckoo.
+
+"Good morning, then, cuckoo," said Griselda. "Have you considered about
+me, cuckoo?"
+
+The cuckoo cleared his throat.
+
+"Have you learnt to obey orders yet, Griselda?" he inquired.
+
+"I'm trying," replied Griselda. "But you see, cuckoo, I've not had very
+long to learn in--it was only last night you told me, you know."
+
+The cuckoo sighed.
+
+"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda."
+
+"I dare say I have," she said. "But I can tell you one thing,
+cuckoo--whatever lessons I have, I _couldn't_ ever have any worse than
+those addition sums of Mr. Kneebreeches'. I have made up my mind about
+that, for to-day, do you know, cuckoo----"
+
+"Yesterday," corrected the cuckoo. "Always be exact in your statements,
+Griselda."
+
+"Well, yesterday, then," said Griselda, rather tartly; "though when you
+know quite well what I mean, I don't see that you need be so _very_
+particular. Well, as I was saying, I tried and _tried_, but still they
+were fearful. They were, indeed."
+
+"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda," repeated the cuckoo.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't say that so often," said Griselda. "I thought you
+were going to _play_ with me."
+
+"There's something in that," said the cuckoo, "there's something in
+that. I should like to talk about it. But we could talk more comfortably
+if you would come up here and sit beside me."
+
+Griselda thought her friend must be going out of his mind.
+
+"Sit beside you up there!" she exclaimed. "Cuckoo, how _could_ I? I'm
+far, far too big."
+
+"Big!" returned the cuckoo. "What do you mean by big? It's all a matter
+of fancy. Don't you know that if the world and everything in it,
+counting yourself of course, was all made little enough to go into a
+walnut, you'd never find out the difference."
+
+"_Wouldn't_ I?" said Griselda, feeling rather muddled; "but, _not_
+counting myself, cuckoo, I would then, wouldn't I?"
+
+"Nonsense," said the cuckoo hastily; "you've a great deal to learn, and
+one thing is, not to _argue_. Nobody should argue; it's a shocking bad
+habit, and ruins the digestion. Come up here and sit beside me
+comfortably. Catch hold of the chain; you'll find you can manage if you
+try."
+
+"But it'll stop the clock," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel said I was
+never to touch the weights or the chains."
+
+"Stuff," said the cuckoo; "it won't stop the clock. Catch hold of the
+chains and swing yourself up. There now--I told you you could manage
+it."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE COUNTRY OF THE NODDING MANDARINS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "We're all nodding, nid-nid-nodding."
+
+
+How she managed it she never knew; but, somehow or other, it _was_
+managed. She seemed to slide up the chain just as easily as in a general
+way she would have slidden down, only without any disagreeable
+anticipation of a bump at the end of the journey. And when she got to
+the top how wonderfully different it looked from anything she could have
+expected! The doors stood open, and Griselda found them quite big
+enough, or herself quite small enough--which it was she couldn't tell,
+and as it was all a matter of fancy she decided not to trouble to
+inquire--to pass through quite comfortably.
+
+[Illustration: "ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?" INQUIRED THE CUCKOO]
+
+And inside there was the most charming little snuggery imaginable. It
+was something like a saloon railway carriage--it seemed to be all lined
+and carpeted and everything, with rich mossy red velvet; there was a
+little round table in the middle and two arm-chairs, on one of which sat
+the cuckoo--"quite like other people," thought Griselda to
+herself--while the other, as he pointed out to Griselda by a little nod,
+was evidently intended for her.
+
+"Thank you," said she, sitting down on the chair as she spoke.
+
+"Are you comfortable?" inquired the cuckoo.
+
+"Quite," replied Griselda, looking about her with great satisfaction.
+"Are all cuckoo clocks like this when you get up inside them?" she
+inquired. "I can't think how there's room for this dear little place
+between the clock and the wall. Is it a hole cut out of the wall on
+purpose, cuckoo?"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo, "we've got other things to talk about. First,
+shall I lend you one of my mantles? You may feel cold."
+
+"I don't just now," replied Griselda; "but perhaps I _might_."
+
+She looked at her little bare feet as she spoke, and wondered why _they_
+weren't cold, for it was very chilblainy weather.
+
+The cuckoo stood up, and with one of his claws reached from a corner
+where it was hanging a cloak which Griselda had not before noticed. For
+it was hanging wrong side out, and the lining was red velvet, very like
+what the sides of the little room were covered with, so it was no wonder
+she had not noticed it.
+
+Had it been hanging the _right_ side out she must have done so; this
+side was so very wonderful!
+
+It was all feathers--feathers of every shade and colour, but beautifully
+worked in, somehow, so as to lie quite smoothly and evenly, one colour
+melting away into another like those in a prism, so that you could
+hardly tell where one began and another ended.
+
+"What a _lovely_ cloak!" said Griselda, wrapping it round her and
+feeling even more comfortable than before, as she watched the rays of
+the little lamp in the roof--I think I was forgetting to tell you that
+the cuckoo's boudoir was lighted by a dear little lamp set into the red
+velvet roof like a pearl in a ring--playing softly on the brilliant
+colours of the feather mantle.
+
+"It's better than lovely," said the cuckoo, "as you shall see. Now,
+Griselda," he continued, in the tone of one coming to business--"now,
+Griselda, let us talk."
+
+"We have been talking," said Griselda, "ever so long. I am very
+comfortable. When you say 'let us talk' like that, it makes me forget
+all I wanted to say. Just let me sit still and say whatever comes into
+my head."
+
+"That won't do," said the cuckoo; "we must have a plan of action."
+
+"A what?" said Griselda.
+
+"You see you _have_ a great deal to learn," said the cuckoo
+triumphantly. "You don't understand what I say."
+
+"But I didn't come up here to learn," said Griselda; "I can do that down
+there;" and she nodded her head in the direction of the ante-room table.
+"I want to play."
+
+"Just so," said the cuckoo; "that's what I want to talk about. What do
+you call 'play'--blindman's-buff and that sort of thing?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, considering. "I'm getting rather too big for that
+kind of play. Besides, cuckoo, you and I alone couldn't have much fun at
+blindman's-buff; there'd be only me to catch you or you to catch me."
+
+"Oh, we could easily get more," said the cuckoo. "The mandarins would be
+pleased to join."
+
+"The mandarins!" repeated Griselda. "Why, cuckoo, they're not alive! How
+could they play?"
+
+The cuckoo looked at her gravely for a minute, then shook his head.
+
+"You have a _great_ deal to learn," he said solemnly. "Don't you know
+that _everything's_ alive?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I don't; and I don't know what you mean, and I
+don't think I want to know what you mean. I want to talk about playing."
+
+"Well," said the cuckoo, "talk."
+
+"What I call playing," pursued Griselda, "is--I have thought about it
+now, you see--is being amused. If you will amuse me, cuckoo, I will
+count that you are playing with me."
+
+"How shall I amuse you?" inquired he.
+
+"Oh, that's for you to find out!" exclaimed Griselda. "You might tell me
+fairy stories, you know: if you're a fairy you should know lots; or--oh
+yes, of course that would be far nicer--if you are a fairy you might
+take me with you to fairyland."
+
+Again the cuckoo shook his head.
+
+"That," said he, "I cannot do."
+
+"Why not?" said Griselda. "Lots of children have been there."
+
+"I doubt it," said the cuckoo. "_Some_ may have been, but not lots. And
+some may have thought they had been there who hadn't really been there
+at all. And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one
+thing--they were not _taken_, they found their own way. No one ever was
+_taken_ to fairyland--to the real fairyland. They may have been taken to
+the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself."
+
+"And how is one ever to find one's own way there?" asked Griselda.
+
+"That I cannot tell you either," replied the cuckoo. "There are many
+roads there; you may find yours some day. And if ever you do find it, be
+sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may
+see further after a while. Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors
+into fairyland!"
+
+"Doors!" cried Griselda. "Are there any doors into fairyland in this
+house?"
+
+"Several," said the cuckoo; "but don't waste your time looking for them
+at present. It would be no use."
+
+"Then how will you amuse me?" inquired Griselda, in a rather
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Don't you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn't mind seeing. Not geography
+sort of places--it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa
+and all those places--but _queer_ places, like the mines where the
+goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the
+sea where the mermaids live. And--oh, I've just thought--now I'm so nice
+and little, I _would_ like to go all over the mandarins' palace in the
+great saloon."
+
+"That can be easily managed," said the cuckoo; "but--excuse me for an
+instant," he exclaimed suddenly. He gave a spring forward and
+disappeared. Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo, cuckoo." It was three o'clock.
+
+The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on
+his chair. "As I was saying," he went on, "nothing could be easier. But
+that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well
+as the one you know."
+
+"Another door, do you mean?" said Griselda. "How funny! Does it go
+through the wall? And where does it lead to?"
+
+"It leads," replied the cuckoo, "it leads to the country of the Nodding
+Mandarins."
+
+"_What_ fun!" exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands. "Cuckoo, do let us
+go there. How can we get down? You can fly, but must I slide down the
+chain again?"
+
+"Oh dear, no," said the cuckoo, "by no means. You have only to stretch
+out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings--so"--he flapped
+his own wings encouragingly--"wish, and there you'll be."
+
+"Where?" said Griselda bewilderedly.
+
+"Wherever you wish to be, of course," said the cuckoo. "Are you ready?
+Here goes."
+
+"Wait--wait a moment," cried Griselda. "Where am I to wish to be?"
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "Where _do_ you wish to be? You
+said you wanted to visit the country of the Nodding Mandarins."
+
+"Yes; but am I to wish first to be in the palace in the great saloon?"
+
+"Certainly," replied the cuckoo. "That is the entrance to Mandarin Land,
+and you said you would like to see through it. So--you're surely ready
+now?"
+
+"A thought has just struck me," said Griselda. "How will you know what
+o'clock it is, so as to come back in time to tell the next hour? My
+aunts will get into such a fright if you go wrong again! Are you sure
+we shall have time to go to the mandarins' country to-night?"
+
+"Time!" repeated the cuckoo; "what is time? Ah, Griselda, you have a
+_very_ great deal to learn! What do you mean by time?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Griselda, feeling rather snubbed. "Being slow or
+quick--I suppose that's what I mean."
+
+"And what is slow, and what is quick?" said the cuckoo. "_All_ a matter
+of fancy! If everything that's been done since the world was made till
+now, was done over again in five minutes, you'd never know the
+difference."
+
+"Oh, cuckoo, I wish you wouldn't!" cried poor Griselda; "you're worse
+than sums, you do so puzzle me. It's like what you said about nothing
+being big or little, only it's worse. Where would all the days and hours
+be if there was nothing but minutes? Oh, cuckoo, you said you'd amuse
+me, and you do nothing but puzzle me."
+
+"It was your own fault. You wouldn't get ready," said the cuckoo,
+"_Now_, here goes! Flap and wish."
+
+Griselda flapped and wished. She felt a sort of rustle in the air, that
+was all--then she found herself standing with the cuckoo in front of the
+Chinese cabinet, the door of which stood open, while the mandarins on
+each side, nodding politely, seemed to invite them to enter. Griselda
+hesitated.
+
+"Go on," said the cuckoo, patronizingly; "ladies first."
+
+Griselda went on. To her surprise, inside the cabinet it was quite
+light, though where the light came from that illuminated all the queer
+corners and recesses and streamed out to the front, where stood the
+mandarins, she could not discover.
+
+The "palace" was not quite as interesting as she had expected. There
+were lots of little rooms in it opening on to balconies commanding, no
+doubt, a splendid view of the great saloon; there were ever so many
+little stair-cases leading to more little rooms and balconies; but it
+all seemed empty and deserted.
+
+"I don't care for it," said Griselda, stopping short at last; "it's all
+the same, and there's nothing to see. I thought my aunts kept ever so
+many beautiful things in here, and there's nothing."
+
+"Come along, then," said the cuckoo. "I didn't expect you'd care for the
+palace, as you called it, much. Let us go out the other way."
+
+He hopped down a sort of little staircase near which they were standing,
+and Griselda followed him willingly enough. At the foot they found
+themselves in a vestibule, much handsomer than the entrance at the other
+side, and the cuckoo, crossing it, lifted one of his claws and touched a
+spring in the wall. Instantly a pair of large doors flew open in the
+middle, revealing to Griselda the prettiest and most curious sight she
+had ever seen.
+
+[Illustration: HE FLAPPED HIS WINGS, AND A PALANQUIN APPEARED AT THE
+FOOT OF THE STEPS]
+
+A flight of wide, shallow steps led down from this doorway into a
+long, long avenue bordered by stiffly growing trees, from the branches
+of which hung innumerable lamps of every colour, making a perfect
+network of brilliance as far as the eye could reach.
+
+"Oh, how lovely!" cried Griselda, clapping her hands. "It'll be like
+walking along a rainbow. Cuckoo, come quick."
+
+"Stop," said the cuckoo; "we've a good way to go. There's no need to
+walk. Palanquin!"
+
+He flapped his wings, and instantly a palanquin appeared at the foot of
+the steps. It was made of carved ivory, and borne by four
+Chinese-looking figures with pigtails and bright-coloured jackets. A
+feeling came over Griselda that she was dreaming, or else that she had
+seen this palanquin before. She hesitated. Suddenly she gave a little
+jump of satisfaction.
+
+"I know," she exclaimed. "It's exactly like the one that stands under a
+glass shade on Lady Lavander's drawing-room mantelpiece. I wonder if it
+is the very one? Fancy me being able to get _into_ it!"
+
+She looked at the four bearers. Instantly they all nodded.
+
+"What do they mean?" asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo.
+
+"Get in," he replied.
+
+"Yes, I'm just going to get in," she said; "but what do _they_ mean when
+they nod at me like that?"
+
+"They mean, of course, what I tell you--'Get in,'" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Why don't they say so, then?" persisted Griselda, getting in, however,
+as she spoke.
+
+"Griselda, you have a _very_ great----" began the cuckoo, but Griselda
+interrupted him.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "if you say that again, I'll jump out of the
+palanquin and run away home to bed. Of course I've a great deal to
+learn--that's why I like to ask questions about everything I see. Now,
+tell me where we are going."
+
+"In the first place," said the cuckoo, "are you comfortable?"
+
+"Very," said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions.
+
+It was a change from the cuckoo's boudoir. There were no chairs or
+seats, only a number of very, _very_ soft cushions covered with green
+silk. There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could
+draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring. Griselda stroked
+the silk gently. It was not "fruzzley" silk, if you know what that
+means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as
+if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way;
+its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal.
+
+"What nice silk!" said Griselda. "I'd like a dress of it. I never
+noticed that the palanquin was lined so nicely," she continued, "for I
+suppose it _is_ the one from Lady Lavander's mantelpiece? There couldn't
+be two so exactly like each other."
+
+The cuckoo gave a sort of whistle.
+
+"What a goose you are, my dear!" he exclaimed. "Excuse me," he
+continued, seeing that Griselda looked rather offended; "I didn't mean
+to hurt your feelings, but you won't let me say the other thing, you
+know. The palanquin from Lady Lavander's! I should think not. You might
+as well mistake one of those horrible paper roses that Dorcas sticks in
+her vases for one of your aunt's Gloires de Dijon! The palanquin from
+Lady Lavander's--a clumsy human imitation not worth looking at!"
+
+"I didn't know," said Griselda humbly. "Do they make such beautiful
+things in Mandarin Land?"
+
+"Of course," said the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda sat silent for a minute or two, but very soon she recovered her
+spirits.
+
+"Will you please tell me where we are going?" she asked again.
+
+"You'll see directly," said the cuckoo; "not that I mind telling you.
+There's to be a grand reception at one of the palaces to-night. I
+thought you'd like to assist at it. It'll give you some idea of what a
+palace is like. By-the-by, can you dance?"
+
+"A little," replied Griselda.
+
+"Ah, well, I dare say you will manage. I've ordered a court dress for
+you. It will be all ready when we get there."
+
+"Thank you," said Griselda.
+
+In a minute or two the palanquin stopped. The cuckoo got out, and
+Griselda followed him.
+
+She found that they were at the entrance to a _very_ much grander palace
+than the one in her aunt's saloon. The steps leading up to the door were
+very wide and shallow, and covered with a gold embroidered carpet, which
+_looked_ as if it would be prickly to her bare feet, but which, on the
+contrary, when she trod upon it, felt softer than the softest moss. She
+could see very little besides the carpet, for at each side of the steps
+stood rows and rows of mandarins, all something like, but a great deal
+grander than, the pair outside her aunt's cabinet; and as the cuckoo
+hopped and Griselda walked up the staircase, they all, in turn, row by
+row, began solemnly to nod. It gave them the look of a field of very
+high grass, through which, any one passing, leaves for the moment a
+trail, till all the heads bob up again into their places.
+
+"What do they mean?" whispered Griselda.
+
+"It's a royal salute," said the cuckoo.
+
+"A salute!" said Griselda. "I thought that meant kissing or guns."
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo, for by this time they had arrived at the top of
+the staircase; "you must be dressed now."
+
+Two mandariny-looking young ladies, with porcelain faces and
+three-cornered head-dresses, stepped forward and led Griselda into a
+small ante-room, where lay waiting for her the most magnificent dress
+you ever saw. But how _do_ you think they dressed her? It was all by
+nodding. They nodded to the blue and silver embroidered jacket, and in a
+moment it had fitted itself on to her. They nodded to the splendid
+scarlet satin skirt, made very short in front and very long behind, and
+before Griselda knew where she was, it was adjusted quite correctly.
+They nodded to the head-dress, and the sashes, and the necklaces and
+bracelets, and forthwith they all arranged themselves. Last of all, they
+nodded to the dearest, sweetest little pair of high-heeled shoes
+imaginable--all silver, and blue, and gold, and scarlet, and everything
+mixed up together, _only_ they were rather a stumpy shape about the toes
+and Griselda's bare feet were encased in them, and, to her surprise,
+quite comfortably so.
+
+"They don't hurt me a bit," she said aloud; "yet they didn't look the
+least the shape of my foot."
+
+But her attendants only nodded; and turning round, she saw the cuckoo
+waiting for her. He did not speak either, rather to her annoyance, but
+gravely led the way through one grand room after another to the
+grandest of all, where the entertainment was evidently just about to
+begin. And everywhere there were mandarins, rows and rows, who all set
+to work nodding as fast as Griselda appeared. She began to be rather
+tired of royal salutes, and was glad when, at last, in profound silence,
+the procession, consisting of the cuckoo and herself, and about half a
+dozen "mandarins," came to a halt before a kind of daïs, or raised seat,
+at the end of the hall.
+
+Upon this daïs stood a chair--a throne of some kind, Griselda supposed
+it to be--and upon this was seated the grandest and gravest personage
+she had yet seen.
+
+"Is he the king of the mandarins?" she whispered. But the cuckoo did not
+reply; and before she had time to repeat the question, the very grand
+and grave person got down from his seat, and coming towards her offered
+her his hand, at the same time nodding--first once, then two or three
+times together, then once again. Griselda seemed to know what he meant.
+He was asking her to dance.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I can't dance _very_ well, but perhaps you won't
+mind."
+
+The king, if that was his title, took not the slightest notice of her
+reply, but nodded again--once, then two or three times together, then
+once alone, just as before. Griselda did not know what to do, when
+suddenly she felt something poking her head. It was the cuckoo--he had
+lifted his claw, and was tapping her head to make her nod. So she
+nodded--once, twice together, then once--that appeared to be enough. The
+king nodded once again; an invisible band suddenly struck up the
+loveliest music, and off they set to the places of honour reserved for
+them in the centre of the room, where all the mandarins were assembling.
+
+What a dance that was! It began like a minuet and ended something like
+the haymakers. Griselda had not the least idea what the figures or steps
+were, but it did not matter. If she did not know, her shoes or
+something about her did; for she got on famously. The music was
+lovely--"so the mandarins can't be deaf, though they are dumb," thought
+Griselda, "which is one good thing about them." The king seemed to enjoy
+it as much as she did, though he never smiled or laughed; any one could
+have seen he liked it by the way he whirled and twirled himself about.
+And between the figures, when they stopped to rest for a little,
+Griselda got on very well too. There was no conversation, or rather, if
+there was, it was all nodding.
+
+So Griselda nodded too, and though she did not know what her nods meant,
+the king seemed to understand and be quite pleased; and when they had
+nodded enough, the music struck up again, and off they set, harder than
+before.
+
+And every now and then tiny little mandariny boys appeared with trays
+filled with the most delicious fruits and sweetmeats. Griselda was not
+a greedy child, but for once in her life she really _did_ feel rather
+so. I cannot possibly describe these delicious things; just think of
+whatever in all your life was the most "lovely" thing you ever eat, and
+you may be sure they tasted like that. Only the cuckoo would not eat
+any, which rather distressed Griselda. He walked about among the
+dancers, apparently quite at home; and the mandarins did not seem at all
+surprised to see him, though he did look rather odd, being nearly, if
+not quite, as big as any of them. Griselda hoped he was enjoying
+himself, considering that she had to thank him for all the fun _she_ was
+having, but she felt a little conscience-stricken when she saw that he
+wouldn't eat anything.
+
+"Cuckoo," she whispered; she dared not talk out loud--it would have
+seemed so remarkable, you see. "Cuckoo," she said, very, very softly, "I
+wish you would eat something. You'll be so tired and hungry."
+
+"No, thank you," said the cuckoo; and you can't think how pleased
+Griselda was at having succeeded in making him speak. "It isn't my way.
+I hope you are enjoying yourself?"
+
+"Oh, _very_ much," said Griselda. "I----"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and looking up, Griselda saw a number of
+mandarins, in a sort of procession, coming their way.
+
+When they got up to the cuckoo they set to work nodding, two or three at
+a time, more energetically than usual. When they stopped, the cuckoo
+nodded in return, and then hopped off towards the middle of the room.
+
+"They're very fond of good music, you see," he whispered as he passed
+Griselda; "and they don't often get it."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+PICTURES
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "And she is always beautiful
+    And always is eighteen!"
+
+
+When he got to the middle of the room the cuckoo cleared his throat,
+flapped his wings, and began to sing. Griselda was quite astonished. She
+had had no idea that her friend was so accomplished. It wasn't
+"cuckooing" at all; it was real singing, like that of the nightingale or
+the thrush, or like something prettier than either. It made Griselda
+think of woods in summer, and of tinkling brooks flowing through them,
+with the pretty brown pebbles sparkling up through the water; and then
+it made her think of something sad--she didn't know what; perhaps it was
+of the babes in the wood and the robins covering them up with
+leaves--and then again, in a moment, it sounded as if all the merry
+elves and sprites that ever were heard of had escaped from fairyland,
+and were rolling over and over with peals of rollicking laughter. And at
+last, all of a sudden, the song came to an end.
+
+"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" rang out three times, clear and shrill. The
+cuckoo flapped his wings, made a bow to the mandarins, and retired to
+his old corner.
+
+There was no buzz of talk, as is usual after a performance has come to a
+close, but there was a great buzz of nodding, and Griselda, wishing to
+give the cuckoo as much praise as she could, nodded as hard as any of
+them. The cuckoo really looked quite shy at receiving so much applause.
+But in a minute or two the music struck up and the dancing began
+again--one, two, three: it seemed a sort of mazurka this time, which
+suited the mandarins very well, as it gave them a chance of nodding to
+mark the time.
+
+Griselda had once learnt the mazurka, so she got on even better than
+before--only she would have liked it more if her shoes had had sharper
+toes; they looked so stumpy when she tried to point them. All the same,
+it was very good fun, and she was not too well pleased when she suddenly
+felt the little sharp tap of the cuckoo on her head, and heard him
+whisper--
+
+"Griselda, it's time to go."
+
+"Oh dear, why?" she asked. "I'm not a bit tired. Why need we go yet?"
+
+"Obeying orders," said the cuckoo; and after that, Griselda dared not
+say another word. It was very nearly as bad as being told she had a
+great deal to learn.
+
+"Must I say good-bye to the king and all the people?" she inquired; but
+before the cuckoo had time to answer, she gave a little squeal. "Oh,
+cuckoo," she cried, "you've trod on my foot."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the cuckoo.
+
+"I must take off my shoe; it does so hurt," she went on.
+
+"Take it off, then," said the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda stooped to take off her shoe. "Are we going home in the
+pal----?" she began to say; but she never finished the sentence, for
+just as she had got her shoe off she felt the cuckoo throw something
+round her. It was the feather mantle.
+
+And Griselda knew nothing more till she opened her eyes the next
+morning, and saw the first early rays of sunshine peeping in through the
+chinks of the closed shutters of her little bed-room.
+
+She rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. Could it have been a dream?
+
+"What could have made me fall asleep so all of a sudden?" she thought.
+"I wasn't the least sleepy at the mandarins' ball. What fun it was! I
+believe that cuckoo made me fall asleep on purpose to make me fancy it
+was a dream. _Was_ it a dream?"
+
+She began to feel confused and doubtful, when suddenly she felt
+something hurting her arm, like a little lump in the bed. She felt with
+her hand to see if she could smooth it away, and drew out--one of the
+shoes belonging to her court dress! The very one she had held in her
+hand at the moment the cuckoo spirited her home again to bed.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "you meant to play me a trick, but you
+haven't succeeded, you see."
+
+She jumped out of bed and unfastened one of the window-shutters, then
+jumped in again to admire the little shoe in comfort. It was even
+prettier than she had thought it at the ball. She held it up and looked
+at it. It was about the size of the first joint of her little finger.
+"To think that I should have been dancing with you on last night!" she
+said to the shoe. "And yet the cuckoo says being big or little is all a
+matter of fancy. I wonder what he'll think of to amuse me next?"
+
+She was still holding up the shoe and admiring it when Dorcas came with
+the hot water.
+
+"Look, Dorcas," she said.
+
+"Bless me, it's one of the shoes off the Chinese dolls in the saloon,"
+exclaimed the old servant. "How ever did you get that, missie? Your
+aunts wouldn't be pleased."
+
+"It just isn't one of the Chinese dolls' shoes, and if you don't believe
+me, you can go and look for yourself," said Griselda. "It's my very own
+shoe, and it was given me to my own self."
+
+Dorcas looked at her curiously, but said no more, only as she was going
+out of the room Griselda heard her saying something about "so very like
+Miss Sybilla."
+
+"I wonder what 'Miss Sybilla' _was_ like?" thought Griselda. "I have a
+good mind to ask the cuckoo. He seems to have known her very well."
+
+It was not for some days that Griselda had a chance of asking the cuckoo
+anything. She saw and heard nothing of him--nothing, that is to say, but
+his regular appearance to tell the hours as usual.
+
+"I suppose," thought Griselda, "he thinks the mandarins' ball was fun
+enough to last me a good while. It really was very good-natured of him
+to take me to it, so I mustn't grumble."
+
+A few days after this poor Griselda caught cold. It was not a very bad
+cold, I must confess, but her aunts made rather a fuss about it. They
+wanted her to stay in bed, but to this Griselda so much objected that
+they did not insist upon it.
+
+"It would be so dull," she said piteously. "Please let me stay in the
+ante-room, for all my things are there; and, then, there's the cuckoo."
+
+Aunt Grizzel smiled at this, and Griselda got her way. But even in the
+ante-room it was rather dull. Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were
+obliged to go out, to drive all the way to Merrybrow Hall, as Lady
+Lavander sent a messenger to say that she had an attack of influenza,
+and wished to see her friends at once.
+
+Miss Tabitha began to cry--she was so tender-hearted.
+
+"Troubles never come singly," said Miss Grizzel, by way of consolation.
+
+"No, indeed, they never come singly," said Miss Tabitha, shaking her
+head and wiping her eyes.
+
+So off they set; and Griselda, in her arm-chair by the ante-room fire,
+with some queer little old-fashioned books of her aunts', which she had
+already read more than a dozen times, beside her by way of amusement,
+felt that there was one comfort in her troubles--she had escaped the
+long weary drive to her godmother's.
+
+But it was very dull. It got duller and duller. Griselda curled herself
+up in her chair, and wished she could go to sleep, though feeling quite
+sure she couldn't, for she had stayed in bed much later than usual this
+morning, and had been obliged to spend the time in sleeping, for want of
+anything better to do.
+
+She looked up at the clock.
+
+"I don't know even what to wish for," she said to herself. "I don't feel
+the least inclined to play at anything, and I shouldn't care to go to
+the mandarins again. Oh, cuckoo, cuckoo, I am so dull; couldn't you
+think of anything to amuse me?"
+
+It was not near "any o'clock." But after waiting a minute or two, it
+seemed to Griselda that she heard the soft sound of "coming" that always
+preceded the cuckoo's appearance. She was right. In another moment she
+heard his usual greeting, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!"
+
+"Oh, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come at last. I _am_
+so dull, and it has nothing to do with lessons this time. It's that I've
+got such a bad cold, and my head's aching, and I'm so tired of reading,
+all by myself."
+
+"What would you like to do?" said the cuckoo. "You don't want to go to
+see the mandarins again?"
+
+"Oh no; I couldn't dance."
+
+"Or the mermaids down under the sea?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no," said Griselda, with a little shiver, "it would be far
+too cold. I would just like to stay where I am, if some one would tell
+me stories. I'm not even sure that I could listen to stories. What could
+you do to amuse me, cuckoo?"
+
+"Would you like to see some pictures?" said the cuckoo. "I could show
+you pictures without your taking any trouble."
+
+"Oh yes, that would be beautiful," cried Griselda. "What pictures will
+you show me? Oh, I know. I would like to see the place where you were
+born--where that very, very clever man made you and the clock, I mean."
+
+"Your great-great-grandfather," said the cuckoo. "Very well. Now,
+Griselda, shut your eyes. First of all, I am going to sing."
+
+Griselda shut her eyes, and the cuckoo began his song. It was something
+like what he had sung at the mandarins' palace, only even more
+beautiful. It was so soft and dreamy, Griselda felt as if she could have
+sat there for ever, listening to it.
+
+The first notes were low and murmuring. Again they made Griselda think
+of little rippling brooks in summer, and now and then there came a sort
+of hum as of insects buzzing in the warm sunshine near. This humming
+gradually increased, till at last Griselda was conscious of nothing
+more--_everything_ seemed to be humming, herself too, till at last she
+fell asleep.
+
+When she opened her eyes, the ante-room and everything in it, except the
+arm-chair on which she was still curled up, had disappeared--melted away
+into a misty cloud all round her, which in turn gradually faded, till
+before her she saw a scene quite new and strange. It was the first of
+the cuckoo's "pictures."
+
+An old, quaint room, with a high, carved mantelpiece, and a bright fire
+sparkling in the grate. It was not a pretty room--it had more the look
+of a workshop of some kind; but it was curious and interesting. All
+round, the walls were hung with clocks and strange mechanical toys.
+There was a fiddler slowly fiddling, a gentleman and lady gravely
+dancing a minuet, a little man drawing up water in a bucket out of a
+glass vase in which gold fish were swimming about--all sorts of queer
+figures; and the clocks were even queerer. There was one intended to
+represent the sun, moon, and planets, with one face for the sun and
+another for the moon, and gold and silver stars slowly circling round
+them; there was another clock with a tiny trumpeter perched on a ledge
+above the face, who blew a horn for the hours. I cannot tell you half
+the strange and wonderful things there were.
+
+Griselda was so interested in looking at all these queer machines, that
+she did not for some time observe the occupant of the room. And no
+wonder; he was sitting in front of a little table, so perfectly still,
+much more still than the un-living figures around him. He was examining,
+with a magnifying glass, some small object he held in his hand, so
+closely and intently that Griselda, forgetting she was only looking at a
+"picture," almost held her breath for fear she should disturb him. He
+was a very old man, his coat was worn and threadbare in several places,
+looking as if he spent a great part of his life in one position. Yet he
+did not look _poor_, and his face, when at last he lifted it, was mild
+and intelligent and very earnest.
+
+While Griselda was watching him closely there came a soft tap at the
+door, and a little girl danced into the room. The dearest little girl
+you ever saw, and _so_ funnily dressed! Her thick brown hair, rather
+lighter than Griselda's, was tied in two long plaits down her back. She
+had a short red skirt with silver braid round the bottom, and a white
+chemisette with beautiful lace at the throat and wrists, and over that
+again a black velvet bodice, also trimmed with silver. And she had a
+great many trinkets, necklaces, and bracelets, and ear-rings, and a sort
+of little silver coronet; no, it was not like a coronet, it was a band
+with a square piece of silver fastened so as to stand up at each side of
+her head something like a horse's blinkers, only they were not placed
+over her eyes.
+
+She made quite a jingle as she came into the room, and the old man
+looked up with a smile of pleasure.
+
+"Well, my darling, and are you all ready for your _fête_?" he said; and
+though the language in which he spoke was quite strange to Griselda, she
+understood his meaning perfectly well.
+
+"Yes, dear grandfather; and isn't my dress lovely?" said the child. "I
+should be _so_ happy if only you were coming too, and would get
+yourself a beautiful velvet coat like Mynheer van Huyten."
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"I have no time for such things, my darling," he replied; "and besides,
+I am too old. I must work--work hard to make money for my pet when I am
+gone, that she may not be dependent on the bounty of those English
+sisters."
+
+"But I won't care for money when you are gone, grandfather," said the
+child, her eyes filling with tears. "I would rather just go on living in
+this little house, and I am sure the neighbours would give me something
+to eat, and then I could hear all your clocks ticking, and think of you.
+I don't want you to sell all your wonderful things for money for me,
+grandfather. They would remind me of you, and money wouldn't."
+
+"Not all, Sybilla, not all," said the old man. "The best of all, the
+_chef-d'oeuvre_ of my life, shall not be sold. It shall be yours,
+and you will have in your possession a clock that crowned heads might
+seek in vain to purchase."
+
+His dim old eyes brightened, and for a moment he sat erect and strong.
+
+"Do you mean the cuckoo clock?" said Sybilla, in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, my darling, the cuckoo clock, the crowning work of my life--a
+clock that shall last long after I, and perhaps thou, my pretty child,
+are crumbling into dust; a clock that shall last to tell my
+great-grandchildren to many generations that the old Dutch mechanic was
+not altogether to be despised."
+
+Sybilla sprang into his arms.
+
+"You are not to talk like that, little grandfather," she said. "I shall
+teach my children and my grandchildren to be so proud of you--oh, so
+proud!--as proud as I am of you, little grandfather."
+
+"Gently, my darling," said the old man, as he placed carefully on the
+table the delicate piece of mechanism he held in his hand, and tenderly
+embraced the child. "Kiss me once again, my pet, and then thou must go;
+thy little friends will be waiting."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he said these words the mist slowly gathered again before Griselda's
+eyes--the first of the cuckoo's pictures faded from her sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she looked again the scene was changed, but this time it was not a
+strange one, though Griselda had gazed at it for some moments before she
+recognized it. It was the great saloon, but it looked very different
+from what she had ever seen it. Forty years or so make a difference in
+rooms as well as in people!
+
+The faded yellow damask hangings were rich and brilliant. There were
+bouquets of lovely flowers arranged about the tables; wax lights were
+sending out their brightness in every direction, and the room was
+filled with ladies and gentlemen in gay attire.
+
+Among them, after a time, Griselda remarked two ladies, no longer very
+young, but still handsome and stately, and something whispered to her
+that they were her two aunts, Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha.
+
+"Poor aunts!" she said softly to herself; "how old they have grown since
+then."
+
+But she did not long look at them; her attention was attracted by a much
+younger lady--a mere girl she seemed, but oh, so sweet and pretty! She
+was dancing with a gentleman whose eyes looked as if they saw no one
+else, and she herself seemed brimming over with youth and happiness. Her
+very steps had joy in them.
+
+"Well, Griselda," whispered a voice, which she knew was the cuckoo's;
+"so you don't like to be told you are like your grandmother, eh?"
+
+Griselda turned round sharply to look for the speaker, but he was not to
+be seen. And when she turned again, the picture of the great saloon had
+faded away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One more picture.
+
+Griselda looked again. She saw before her a country road in full summer
+time; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the trees covered
+with their bright green leaves--everything appeared happy and joyful.
+But at last in the distance she saw, slowly approaching, a group of a
+few people, all walking together, carrying in their centre something
+long and narrow, which, though the black cloth covering it was almost
+hidden by the white flowers with which it was thickly strewn, Griselda
+knew to be a coffin.
+
+It was a funeral procession, and in the place of chief mourner, with
+pale, set face, walked the same young man whom Griselda had last seen
+dancing with the girl Sybilla in the great saloon.
+
+The sad group passed slowly out of sight; but as it disappeared there
+fell upon the ear the sounds of sweet music, lovelier far than she had
+heard before--lovelier than the magic cuckoo's most lovely songs--and
+somehow, in the music, it seemed to the child's fancy there were mingled
+the soft strains of a woman's voice.
+
+"It is Sybilla singing," thought Griselda dreamily, and with that she
+fell asleep again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she woke she was in the arm-chair by the ante-room fire, everything
+around her looking just as usual, the cuckoo clock ticking away calmly
+and regularly. Had it been a dream only? Griselda could not make up her
+mind.
+
+"But I don't see that it matters if it was," she said to herself. "If it
+was a dream, the cuckoo sent it to me all the same, and I thank you very
+much indeed, cuckoo," she went on, looking up at the clock. "The last
+picture was rather sad, but still it was very nice to see it, and I
+thank you very much, and I'll never say again that I don't like to be
+told I'm like my dear pretty grandmother."
+
+The cuckoo took no notice of what she said, but Griselda did not mind.
+She was getting used to his "ways."
+
+"I expect he hears me quite well," she thought; "and even if he doesn't,
+it's only civil to _try_ to thank him."
+
+She sat still contentedly enough, thinking over what she had seen, and
+trying to make more "pictures" for herself in the fire. Then there came
+faintly to her ears the sound of carriage wheels, opening and shutting
+of doors, a little bustle of arrival.
+
+"My aunts must have come back," thought Griselda; and so it was. In a
+few minutes Miss Grizzel, closely followed by Miss Tabitha, appeared at
+the ante-room door.
+
+"Well, my love," said Miss Grizzel anxiously, "and how are you? Has the
+time seemed very long while we were away?"
+
+"Oh no, thank you, Aunt Grizzel," replied Griselda, "not at all. I've
+been quite happy, and my cold's ever so much better, and my headache's
+_quite_ gone."
+
+"Come, that is good news," said Miss Grizzel. "Not that I'm exactly
+_surprised_," she continued, turning to Miss Tabitha, "for there really
+is nothing like tansy tea for a feverish cold."
+
+"Nothing," agreed Miss Tabitha; "there really is nothing like it."
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, after a few moments' silence, "was my
+grandmother quite young when she died?"
+
+"Yes, my love, very young," replied Miss Grizzel with a change in her
+voice.
+
+"And was her husband _very_ sorry?" pursued Griselda.
+
+"Heart-broken," said Miss Grizzel. "He did not live long after, and then
+you know, my dear, your father was sent to us to take care of. And now
+he has sent _you_--the third generation of young creatures confided to
+our care."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "My grandmother died in the summer, when all the
+flowers were out; and she was buried in a pretty country place, wasn't
+she?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Grizzel, looking rather bewildered.
+
+"And when she was a little girl she lived with her grandfather, the old
+Dutch mechanic," continued Griselda, unconsciously using the very words
+she had heard in her vision. "He was a nice old man; and how clever of
+him to have made the cuckoo clock, and such lots of other pretty,
+wonderful things. I don't wonder little Sybilla loved him; he was so
+good to her. But, oh, Aunt Grizzel, _how_ pretty she was when she was a
+young lady! That time that she danced with my grandfather in the great
+saloon. And how very nice you and Aunt Tabitha looked then, too."
+
+Miss Grizzel held her very breath in astonishment; and no doubt if Miss
+Tabitha had known she was doing so, she would have held hers too. But
+Griselda lay still, gazing at the fire, quite unconscious of her aunt's
+surprise.
+
+"Your papa told you all these old stories, I suppose, my dear," said
+Miss Grizzel at last.
+
+"Oh no," said Griselda dreamily. "Papa never told me anything like that.
+Dorcas told me a very little, I think; at least, she made me want to
+know, and I asked the cuckoo, and then, you see, he showed me it all. It
+was so pretty."
+
+Miss Grizzel glanced at her sister.
+
+"Tabitha, my dear," she said in a low voice, "do you hear?"
+
+And Miss Tabitha, who really was not very deaf when she set herself to
+hear, nodded in awe-struck silence.
+
+"Tabitha," continued Miss Grizzel in the same tone, "it is wonderful!
+Ah, yes, how true it is, Tabitha, that 'there are more things in heaven
+and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy'" (for Miss Grizzel was a
+well-read old lady, you see); "and from the very first, Tabitha, we
+always had a feeling that the child was strangely like Sybilla."
+
+"Strangely like Sybilla," echoed Miss Tabitha.
+
+"May she grow up as good, if not quite as beautiful--_that_ we could
+scarcely expect; and may she be longer spared to those that love her,"
+added Miss Grizzel, bending over Griselda, while two or three tears
+slowly trickled down her aged cheeks. "See, Tabitha, the dear child is
+fast asleep. How sweet she looks! I trust by to-morrow morning she will
+be quite herself again; her cold is so much better."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+RUBBED THE WRONG WAY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "For now and then there comes a day
+    When everything goes wrong."
+
+
+Griselda's cold _was_ much better by "to-morrow morning." In fact, I
+might almost say it was quite well.
+
+But Griselda herself did not feel quite well, and saying this reminds me
+that it is hardly sense to speak of a _cold_ being better or well--for a
+cold's being "well" means that it is not there at all, out of existence,
+in short, and if a thing is out of existence how can we say anything
+about it? Children, I feel quite in a hobble--I cannot get my mind
+straight about it--please think it over and give me your opinion. In the
+meantime, I will go on about Griselda.
+
+She felt just a little ill--a sort of feeling that sometimes is rather
+nice, sometimes "very extremely" much the reverse! She felt in the
+humour for being petted, and having beef-tea, and jelly, and sponge cake
+with her tea, and for a day or two this was all very well. She _was_
+petted, and she had lots of beef-tea, and jelly, and grapes, and sponge
+cakes, and everything nice, for her aunts, as you must have seen by this
+time, were really very, very kind to her in every way in which they
+understood how to be so.
+
+But after a few days of the continued petting, and the beef-tea and the
+jelly and all the rest of it, it occurred to Miss Grizzel, who had a
+good large bump of "common sense," that it might be possible to overdo
+this sort of thing.
+
+"Tabitha," she said to her sister, when they were sitting together in
+the evening after Griselda had gone to bed, "Tabitha, my dear, I think
+the child is quite well again now. It seems to me it would be well to
+send a note to good Mr. Kneebreeches, to say that she will be able to
+resume her studies the day after to-morrow."
+
+"The day after to-morrow," repeated Miss Tabitha. "The day after
+to-morrow--to say that she will be able to resume her studies the day
+after to-morrow--oh yes, certainly. It would be very well to send a note
+to good Mr. Kneebreeches, my dear Grizzel."
+
+"I thought you would agree with me," said Miss Grizzel, with a sigh of
+relief (as if poor Miss Tabitha during all the last half-century had
+ever ventured to do anything else), getting up to fetch her writing
+materials as she spoke. "It is such a satisfaction to consult together
+about what we do. I was only a little afraid of being hard upon the
+child, but as you agree with me, I have no longer any misgiving."
+
+"Any misgiving, oh dear, no!" said Miss Tabitha. "You have no reason
+for any misgiving, I am sure, my dear Grizzel."
+
+So the note was written and despatched, and the next morning when, about
+twelve o'clock, Griselda made her appearance in the little drawing-room
+where her aunts usually sat, looking, it must be confessed, very plump
+and rosy for an invalid, Miss Grizzel broached the subject.
+
+"I have written to request Mr. Kneebreeches to resume his instructions
+to-morrow," she said quietly. "I think you are quite well again now, so
+Dorcas must wake you at your usual hour."
+
+Griselda had been settling herself comfortably on a corner of the sofa.
+She had got a nice book to read, which her father, hearing of her
+illness, had sent her by post, and she was looking forward to the
+tempting plateful of jelly which Dorcas had brought her for luncheon
+every day since she had been ill. Altogether, she was feeling very
+"lazy-easy" and contented. Her aunt's announcement felt like a sudden
+downpour of cold water, or rush of east wind. She sat straight up in her
+sofa, and exclaimed in a tone of great annoyance--
+
+"_Oh_, Aunt Grizzel!"
+
+"Well, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel, placidly.
+
+"I _wish_ you wouldn't make me begin lessons again just yet. I _know_
+they'll make my head ache again, and Mr. Kneebreeches will be _so_
+cross. I know he will, and he is so horrid when he is cross."
+
+"Hush!" said Miss Grizzel, holding up her hand in a way that reminded
+Griselda of the cuckoo's favourite "obeying orders." Just then, too, in
+the distance the ante-room clock struck twelve. "Cuckoo! cuckoo!
+cuckoo!" on it went. Griselda could have stamped with irritation, but
+_somehow_, in spite of herself, she felt compelled to say nothing. She
+muttered some not very pretty words, coiled herself round on the sofa,
+opened her book, and began to read.
+
+But it was not as interesting as she had expected. She had not read many
+pages before she began to yawn, and she was delighted to be interrupted
+by Dorcas and the jelly.
+
+But the jelly was not as nice as she had expected, either. She tasted
+it, and thought it was too sweet; and when she tasted it again, it
+seemed too strong of cinnamon; and the third taste seemed too strong of
+everything. She laid down her spoon, and looked about her
+discontentedly.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel. "Is the jelly not to
+your liking?"
+
+"I don't know," said Griselda shortly. She ate a few spoonfuls, and then
+took up her book again. Miss Grizzel said nothing more, but to herself
+she thought that Mr. Kneebreeches had not been recalled any too soon.
+
+All day long it was much the same. Nothing seemed to come right to
+Griselda. It was a dull, cold day, what is called "a black frost"; not a
+bright, clear, _pretty_, cold day, but the sort of frost that really
+makes the world seem dead--makes it almost impossible to believe that
+there will ever be warmth and sound and "growing-ness" again.
+
+Late in the afternoon Griselda crept up to the ante-room, and sat down
+by the window. Outside it was nearly dark, and inside it was not much
+more cheerful--for the fire was nearly out, and no lamps were lighted;
+only the cuckoo clock went on tick-ticking briskly as usual.
+
+"I hate winter," said Griselda, pressing her cold little face against
+the colder window-pane, "I hate winter, and I hate lessons. I would give
+up being a _person_ in a minute if I might be a--a--what would I best
+like to be? Oh yes, I know--a butterfly. Butterflies never see winter,
+and they _certainly_ never have any lessons or any kind of work to do. I
+hate _must_-ing to do anything."
+
+"Cuckoo," rang out suddenly above her head. It was only four o'clock
+striking, and as soon as he had told it the cuckoo was back behind his
+doors again in an instant, just as usual. There was nothing for
+Griselda to feel offended at, but somehow she got quite angry.
+
+"I don't care what you think, cuckoo!" she exclaimed defiantly. "I know
+you came out on purpose just now, but I don't care. I _do_ hate winter,
+and I _do_ hate lessons, and I _do_ think it would be nicer to be a
+butterfly than a little girl."
+
+In her secret heart I fancy she was half in hopes that the cuckoo would
+come out again, and talk things over with her. Even if he were to scold
+her, she felt that it would be better than sitting there alone with
+nobody to speak to, which was very dull work indeed. At the bottom of
+her conscience there lurked the knowledge that what she _should_ be
+doing was to be looking over her last lessons with Mr. Kneebreeches, and
+refreshing her memory for the next day; but, alas! knowing one's duty is
+by no means the same thing as doing it, and Griselda sat on by the
+window doing nothing but grumble and work herself up into a belief that
+she was one of the most-to-be-pitied little girls in all the world. So
+that by the time Dorcas came to call her to tea, I doubt if she had a
+single pleasant thought or feeling left in her heart.
+
+Things grew no better after tea, and before long Griselda asked if she
+might go to bed. She was "so tired," she said; and she certainly looked
+so, for ill-humour and idleness are excellent "tirers," and will soon
+take the roses out of a child's cheeks, and the brightness out of her
+eyes. She held up her face to be kissed by her aunts in a meekly
+reproachful way, which made the old ladies feel quite uncomfortable.
+
+"I am by no means sure that I have done right in recalling Mr.
+Kneebreeches so soon, Sister Tabitha," remarked Miss Grizzel, uneasily,
+when Griselda had left the room. But Miss Tabitha was busy counting her
+stitches, and did not give full attention to Miss Grizzel's observation,
+so she just repeated placidly, "Oh yes, Sister Grizzel, you may be sure
+you have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches."
+
+"I am glad you think so," said Miss Grizzel, with again a little sigh of
+relief. "I was only distressed to see the child looking so white and
+tired."
+
+Upstairs Griselda was hurry-scurrying into bed. There was a lovely fire
+in her room--fancy that! Was she not a poor neglected little creature?
+But even this did not please her. She was too cross to be pleased with
+anything; too cross to wash her face and hands, or let Dorcas brush her
+hair out nicely as usual; too cross, alas, to say her prayers! She just
+huddled into bed, huddling up her mind in an untidy hurry and confusion,
+just as she left her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. She would
+not look into herself, was the truth of it; she shrank from doing so
+because she _knew_ things had been going on in that silly little heart
+of hers in a most unsatisfactory way all day, and she wanted to go to
+sleep and forget all about it.
+
+She did go to sleep, very quickly too. No doubt she really was tired;
+tired with crossness and doing nothing, and she slept very soundly. When
+she woke up she felt so refreshed and rested that she fancied it must be
+morning. It was dark, of course, but that was to be expected in
+mid-winter, especially as the shutters were closed.
+
+"I wonder," thought Griselda, "I wonder if it really _is_ morning. I
+should like to get up early--I went so early to bed. I think I'll just
+jump out of bed and open a chink of the shutters. I'll see at once if
+it's nearly morning, by the look of the sky."
+
+She was up in a minute, feeling her way across the room to the window,
+and without much difficulty she found the hook of the shutters,
+unfastened it, and threw one side open. Ah no, there was no sign of
+morning to be seen. There was moonlight, but nothing else, and not so
+very much of that, for the clouds were hurrying across the "orbèd
+maiden's" face at such a rate, one after the other, that the light was
+more like a number of pale flashes than the steady, cold shining of most
+frosty moonlight nights. There was going to be a change of weather, and
+the cloud armies were collecting together from all quarters; that was
+the real explanation of the hurrying and skurrying Griselda saw
+overhead, but this, of course, she did not understand. She only saw that
+it looked wild and stormy, and she shivered a little, partly with cold,
+partly with a half-frightened feeling that she could not have explained.
+
+"I had better go back to bed," she said to herself; "but I am not a bit
+sleepy."
+
+She was just drawing-to the shutter again, when something caught her
+eye, and she stopped short in surprise. A little bird was outside on the
+window-sill--a tiny bird crouching in close to the cold glass.
+Griselda's kind heart was touched in an instant. Cold as she was, she
+pushed back the shutter again, and drawing a chair forward to the
+window, managed to unfasten it--it was not a very heavy one--and to
+open it wide enough to slip her hand gently along to the bird. It did
+not start or move.
+
+"Can it be dead?" thought Griselda anxiously.
+
+But no, it was not dead. It let her put her hand round it and draw it
+in, and to her delight she felt that it was soft and warm, and it even
+gave a gentle peck on her thumb.
+
+"Poor little bird, how cold you must be," she said kindly. But, to her
+amazement, no sooner was the bird safely inside the room, than it
+managed cleverly to escape from her hand. It fluttered quietly up on to
+her shoulder, and sang out in a soft but cheery tone, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo--cold, did you say, Griselda? Not so very, thank you."
+
+Griselda stept back from the window.
+
+"It's _you_, is it?" she said rather surlily, her tone seeming to infer
+that she had taken a great deal of trouble for nothing.
+
+"Of course it is, and why shouldn't it be? You're not generally so
+sorry to see me. What's the matter?"
+
+"Nothing's the matter," replied Griselda, feeling a little ashamed of
+her want of civility; "only, you see, if I had known it was _you_----"
+She hesitated.
+
+"You wouldn't have clambered up and hurt your poor fingers in opening
+the window if you had known it was me--is that it, eh?" said the cuckoo.
+
+Somehow, when the cuckoo said "eh?" like that, Griselda was obliged to
+tell just what she was thinking.
+
+"No, I wouldn't have _needed_ to open the window," she said. "_You_ can
+get in or out whenever you like; you're not like a real bird. Of course,
+you were just tricking me, sitting out there and pretending to be a
+starved robin."
+
+There was a little indignation in her voice, and she gave her head a
+toss, which nearly upset the cuckoo.
+
+"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "You have a great deal to
+complain of, Griselda. Your time and strength must be very valuable for
+you to regret so much having wasted a little of them on me."
+
+Griselda felt her face grow red. What did he mean? Did he know how
+yesterday had been spent? She said nothing, but she drooped her head,
+and one or two tears came slowly creeping up to her eyes.
+
+"Child!" said the cuckoo, suddenly changing his tone, "you are very
+foolish. Is a kind thought or action _ever_ wasted? Can your eyes see
+what such good seeds grow into? They have wings, Griselda--kindnesses
+have wings and roots, remember that--wings that never droop, and roots
+that never die. What do you think I came and sat outside your window
+for?"
+
+"Cuckoo," said Griselda humbly, "I am very sorry."
+
+"Very well," said the cuckoo, "we'll leave it for the present. I have
+something else to see about. Are you cold, Griselda?"
+
+"_Very_," she replied. "I would very much like to go back to bed,
+cuckoo, if you please; and there's plenty of room for you too, if you'd
+like to come in and get warm."
+
+"There are other ways of getting warm besides going to bed," said the
+cuckoo. "A nice brisk walk, for instance. I was going to ask you to come
+out into the garden with me."
+
+Griselda almost screamed.
+
+"Out into the garden! _Oh_, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "how can you think
+of such a thing? Such a freezing cold night. Oh no, indeed, cuckoo, I
+couldn't possibly."
+
+"Very well, Griselda," said the cuckoo; "if you haven't yet learnt to
+trust me, there's no more to be said. Good-night."
+
+He flapped his wings, cried out "Cuckoo" once only, flew across the
+room, and almost before Griselda understood what he was doing, had
+disappeared.
+
+She hurried after him, stumbling against the furniture in her haste, and
+by the uncertain light. The door was not open, but the cuckoo had got
+through it--"by the keyhole, I dare say," thought Griselda; "he can
+'scrooge' himself up any way"--for a faint "Cuckoo" was to be heard on
+its other side. In a moment Griselda had opened it, and was speeding
+down the long passage in the dark, guided only by the voice from time to
+time heard before her, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+She forgot all about the cold, or rather, she did not feel it, though
+the floor was of uncarpeted old oak, whose hard, polished surface would
+have usually felt like ice to a child's soft, bare feet. It was a very
+long passage, and to-night, somehow, it seemed longer than ever. In
+fact, Griselda could have fancied she had been running along it for half
+a mile or more, when at last she was brought to a standstill by finding
+she could go no further. Where was she? She could not imagine! It must
+be a part of the house she had never explored in the daytime, she
+decided. In front of her was a little stair running downwards, and
+ending in a doorway. All this Griselda could see by a bright light that
+streamed in by the keyhole and through the chinks round the door--a
+light so brilliant that the little girl blinked her eyes, and for a
+moment felt quite dazzled and confused.
+
+"It came so suddenly," she said to herself; "some one must have lighted
+a lamp in there all at once. But it can't be a lamp, it's too bright for
+a lamp. It's more like the sun; but how ever could the sun be shining in
+a room in the middle of the night? What shall I do? Shall I open the
+door and peep in?"
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," came the answer, soft but clear, from the other side.
+
+"Can it be a trick of the cuckoo's to get me out into the garden?"
+thought Griselda; and for the first time since she had run out of her
+room a shiver of cold made her teeth chatter and her skin feel creepy.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," sounded again, nearer this time, it seemed to
+Griselda.
+
+"He's waiting for me. I _will_ trust him," she said resolutely. "He has
+always been good and kind, and it's horrid of me to think he's going to
+trick me."
+
+She ran down the little stair, she seized the handle of the door. It
+turned easily; the door opened--opened, and closed again noiselessly
+behind her, and what do you think she saw?
+
+"Shut your eyes for a minute, Griselda," said the cuckoo's voice beside
+her; "the light will dazzle you at first. Shut them, and I will brush
+them with a little daisy dew, to strengthen them."
+
+Griselda did as she was told. She felt the tip of the cuckoo's softest
+feather pass gently two or three times over her eyelids, and a delicious
+scent seemed immediately to float before her.
+
+"I didn't know _daisies_ had any scent," she remarked.
+
+"Perhaps you didn't. You forget, Griselda, that you have a great----"
+
+"Oh, please don't, cuckoo. Please, please don't, _dear_ cuckoo," she
+exclaimed, dancing about with her hands clasped in entreaty, but her
+eyes still firmly closed. "Don't say that, and I'll promise to believe
+whatever you tell me. And how soon may I open my eyes, please, cuckoo?"
+
+"Turn round slowly, three times. That will give the dew time to take
+effect," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one--two--three. There, now."
+
+Griselda opened her eyes.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+BUTTERFLY-LAND
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "I'd be a butterfly."
+
+
+Griselda opened her eyes.
+
+What did she see?
+
+The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyes
+saw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to your
+fancy. It was just a _delicious_ garden.
+
+There was a charming mixture of all that is needed to make a garden
+perfect--grass, velvety lawn rather; water, for a little brook ran
+tinkling in and out, playing bopeep among the bushes; trees, of course,
+and flowers, of course, flowers of every shade and shape. But all these
+beautiful things Griselda did not at first give as much attention to as
+they deserved; her eyes were so occupied with a quite unusual sight that
+met them.
+
+This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon; but
+butterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none of
+you ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers of
+them, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They were
+fluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them.
+
+Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on the
+lovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissed
+her poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warm
+embrace. Then she turned to her little friend.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you _so_ much. This _is_ fairyland, at
+last!"
+
+The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure of
+speech only, would it not? He shook his head gently.
+
+"No, Griselda," he said kindly; "this is only butterfly-land."
+
+"_Butterfly_-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment in
+her tone.
+
+"Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday,
+isn't it?"
+
+Griselda did not particularly like these allusions to "yesterday." She
+thought it would be as well to change the subject.
+
+"It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure,
+cuckoo, I'm _very_ much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may I
+run about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warm
+sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes and
+fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again.
+I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be a
+butterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about."
+
+She stopped at last, quite out of breath.
+
+"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions,
+you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look at
+everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. You
+will make a great many mistakes if you are--you have made some already."
+
+"How?" said Griselda.
+
+"_Have_ the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them."
+
+Griselda watched.
+
+"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't
+think what. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flying
+away something like bees gathering honey. _Butterflies_ don't gather
+honey, cuckoo?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" said Griselda.
+
+"Come and see," said the cuckoo.
+
+He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through the
+prettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged in
+different colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing along
+their sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another in
+regular order--from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damask
+crimson; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grass
+forget-me-not to the rich warm tinge of the brilliant cornflower.
+_Every_ tint was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange to
+her, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see,
+had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as she
+had never done before.
+
+"How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Is
+it just to look pretty, or why?"
+
+"It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterflies
+know exactly where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painters
+want."
+
+"Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are the
+world-flower-painters?" asked Griselda.
+
+"Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo.
+"It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then."
+
+Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularly
+relishing the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and as
+she and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys, she saw that
+the butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little parties
+of twos and threes, and nibbled away, as she called it, at flowers of
+the same colour but different shades, till they had got what they
+wanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint of
+maize, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followed by
+No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing up the
+rear.
+
+Griselda gave a little sigh.
+
+"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy tone.
+
+"It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily.
+
+After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to the
+garden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out of
+which butterflies were incessantly flying--reminding Griselda again of
+bees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke again.
+
+"Come in," he said.
+
+Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in without
+knocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass of
+butterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while she
+saw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were all
+settled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was a
+tiny object about the size of a flattened-out pin's head, which he was
+most carefully painting with one of his tentacles, which, from time to
+time, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waiting
+patiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, who
+after a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away.
+
+"To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to read
+Griselda's thoughts.
+
+"But what _are_ they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly.
+
+"All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, and
+spring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months of
+summer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray ones
+now and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idle
+butterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go up
+to take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, and
+many a damaged petal they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though no
+one ever knows it."
+
+"_I_ know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle
+butterflies again--never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers
+_here_, too? What a _fearful_ lot they must have to do!"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They
+never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours
+of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course
+they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight
+contemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly
+things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to
+my thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsy way."
+
+"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked
+Griselda.
+
+"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are
+asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic stuff, you see,
+which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are
+usually, Griselda, you couldn't even _see_ the petals the butterflies
+are painting now."
+
+"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."
+
+"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to
+say more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!
+
+"Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Not so very," replied Griselda.
+
+"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't
+know that you'd be much the better for dinner here."
+
+"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner?
+Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of
+course--I don't think I should care to eat it alone."
+
+"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was
+interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall,
+and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They
+fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about
+something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.
+
+"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda.
+"They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a
+banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."
+
+"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear
+me," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting,
+cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown.
+I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold."
+
+"Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights."
+
+He flew off, and was back almost immediately, followed by a whole flock
+of butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hitherto
+seen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow.
+They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were really
+going to be suffocated by them, but only for a moment. There seemed a
+great buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to work
+to _dress_ her. And how do you think they dressed her? With
+_themselves_! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverest
+way. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem of her little
+night-gown, making a thick "_ruche_," as it were; and then there came
+two or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round her
+waist they made the loveliest belt of mingled blue and yellow, and all
+over the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty white
+frills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselves
+into fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, rosettes--I
+cannot tell you what they did not imitate.
+
+Perhaps the prettiest ornament of all was the coronet or wreath they
+made of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair too
+with butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she moved
+about. No one would have known Griselda; she _looked_ like a fairy
+queen, or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what
+looked like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will
+understand, were only a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes
+were soleless.
+
+"Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blue
+and every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda,
+come and look at yourself."
+
+[Illustration: SHE PEERED IN WITH GREAT SATISFACTION]
+
+He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one of
+the tinkling brooks that were to be found everywhere about the garden,
+and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather;
+but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with great
+satisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over one
+shoulder, then over the other.
+
+"It _is_ lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking--how
+shall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?"
+
+"Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "the
+butterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't suppose
+you are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?"
+
+Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather
+"gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies could
+take care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sort
+of banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-looking
+plant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmost
+leaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat two
+magnificent butterflies. They were many times larger than any Griselda
+had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside
+them, and they were _so_ beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed.
+You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest
+movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite
+than the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying
+that they were like living rainbows.
+
+"Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper.
+
+"Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?"
+
+"I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do they
+never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?"
+
+"Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping at
+conclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in
+butterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any other
+butterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others,
+as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all the
+world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on
+the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But even
+now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and
+choose all the new colours."
+
+"Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be."
+
+Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent
+wings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air.
+
+"Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone.
+
+"Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands."
+
+Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In a
+minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically
+circling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda's little
+hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering
+her fingers with their great dazzling wings.
+
+"You _do_ look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps and
+looking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast to
+begin, as it won't do for us to be late."
+
+The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away from
+Griselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a
+beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew
+the large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for no
+sooner were they in their places than butterflies of every kind and
+colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterflies
+small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark;
+butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour--_every_ colour, and
+far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.
+
+They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, and
+in another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared,
+carrying among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a
+drop of liquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to
+the queen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then
+passed it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were
+handed to them, which they again passed on.
+
+"What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not _eating_."
+
+"It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any other
+kind of food than a sniff of perfume; and as there are perfumes
+extracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far more
+flowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allow
+there is plenty of variety of dishes."
+
+"Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo,
+it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent on
+my pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my
+handkerchief here, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was
+under my pillow, and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter, for
+the hook scratched it once."
+
+"You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but not
+more. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy."
+
+But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all the
+petals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly,
+but there were such quantities of them--double quantities in honour of
+the guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her handkerchief into a tight
+little ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it,
+and then she kept sniffing at it impatiently, till at last the cuckoo
+asked her what was the matter.
+
+"I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else,
+cuckoo."
+
+"It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. "But see, Griselda, they
+are going to have an air-dance now."
+
+"What's that?" said Griselda.
+
+"Look, and you'll see," he replied.
+
+Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air,
+and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours.
+
+"Come up to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see them
+better."
+
+Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down on
+the butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings of
+butterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way,
+like ribbons of every hue plaiting themselves and then in an instant
+unplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselves
+in the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted and
+untwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies.
+
+"It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like those
+twisty-twirly dissolving views that papa took me to see once. It's
+_just_ like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all on
+purpose to please me?"
+
+"A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud three
+times, to show them you're pleased."
+
+Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one--all the butterflies rose up into the
+air in a cloud; clap number two--they all fluttered and twirled and
+buzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three--they
+all turned in Griselda's direction with a rush.
+
+"They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloud
+of butterflies, fluttering, _rushing_ down upon her.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she screamed, "they'll suffocate me. Oh, cuckoo!"
+
+"Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out the
+cuckoo.
+
+And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious
+handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry,
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+_Clap_--where were they all?
+
+Griselda opened her eyes--garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had
+disappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with
+the hot water.
+
+"Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning,
+missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up."
+
+"Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morning
+ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute,
+Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What do
+you think of that?"
+
+"It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottle
+on your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?"
+
+"Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; "it's scent of my own, Dorcas.
+Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please give
+me my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr.
+Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as she was
+putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the blue
+butterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I
+don't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how
+hard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'll
+please the dear old cuckoo."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+MASTER PHIL
+
+[Illustration]
+
+      "Who comes from the world of flowers?
+    Daisy and crocus, and sea-blue bell,
+    And violet shrinking in dewy cell--
+    Sly cells that know the secrets of night,
+    When earth is bathed in fairy light--
+      Scarlet, and blue, and golden flowers."
+
+
+And so Mr. Kneebreeches had no reason to complain of his pupil that day.
+
+And Miss Grizzel congratulated herself more heartily than ever on her
+wise management of children.
+
+And Miss Tabitha repeated that Sister Grizzel might indeed congratulate
+herself.
+
+And Griselda became gradually more and more convinced that the only way
+as yet discovered of getting through hard tasks is to set to work and do
+them; also, that grumbling, as things are at present arranged in this
+world, does not _always_, nor I may say _often_, do good; furthermore,
+that an ill-tempered child is not, on the whole, likely to be as much
+loved as a good-tempered one; lastly, that if you wait long enough,
+winter will go and spring will come.
+
+For this was the case this year, after all! Spring had only been sleepy
+and lazy, and in such a case what could poor old winter do but fill the
+vacant post till she came? Why he should be so scolded and reviled for
+faithfully doing his best, as he often is, I really don't know. Not that
+all the ill words he gets have much effect on him--he comes again just
+as usual, whatever we say of or to him. I suppose his feelings have long
+ago been frozen up, or surely before this he would have taken
+offence--well for us that he has not done so!
+
+But when the spring did come at last this year, it would be impossible
+for me to tell you how Griselda enjoyed it. It was like new life to her
+as well as to the plants, and flowers, and birds, and insects. Hitherto,
+you see, she had been able to see very little of the outside of her
+aunt's house; and charming as the inside was, the outside, I must say,
+was still "charminger." There seemed no end to the little up-and-down
+paths and alleys, leading to rustic seats and quaint arbours; no limits
+to the little pine-wood, down into which led the dearest little
+zig-zaggy path you ever saw, all bordered with snow-drops and primroses
+and violets, and later on with periwinkles, and wood anemones, and those
+bright, starry, white flowers, whose name no two people agree about.
+
+This wood-path was the place, I think, which Griselda loved the best.
+The bowling-green was certainly very delightful, and so was the terrace
+where the famous roses grew; but lovely as the roses were (I am speaking
+just now, of course, of later on in the summer, when they were all in
+bloom), Griselda could not enjoy them as much as the wild-flowers, for
+she was forbidden to gather or touch them, except with her funny round
+nose!
+
+"You may _scent_ them, my dear," said Miss Grizzel, who was of opinion
+that smell was not a pretty word; "but I cannot allow anything more."
+
+And Griselda did "scent" them, I assure you. She burrowed her whole rosy
+face in the big ones; but gently, for she did not want to spoil them,
+both for her aunt's sake, and because, too, she had a greater regard for
+flowers now that she knew the secret of how they were painted, and what
+a great deal of trouble the butterflies take about them.
+
+But after a while one grows tired of "scenting" roses; and even the
+trying to walk straight across the bowling-green with her eyes shut,
+from the arbour at one side to the arbour exactly like it at the other,
+grew stupid, though no doubt it would have been capital fun with a
+companion to applaud or criticize.
+
+So the wood-path became Griselda's favourite haunt. As the summer grew
+on, she began to long more than ever for a companion--not so much for
+play, as for some one to play with. She had lessons, of course, just as
+many as in the winter; but with the long days, there seemed to come a
+quite unaccountable increase of play-time, and Griselda sometimes found
+it hang heavy on her hands. She had not seen or heard anything of the
+cuckoo either, save, of course, in his "official capacity" of
+time-teller, for a very long time.
+
+"I suppose," she thought, "he thinks I don't need amusing, now that the
+fine days are come and I can play in the garden; and certainly, if I had
+_any one_ to play with, the garden would be perfectly lovely."
+
+But, failing companions, she did the best she could for herself, and
+this was why she loved the path down into the wood so much. There was a
+sort of mystery about it; it might have been the path leading to the
+cottage of Red-Ridinghood's grandmother, or a path leading to fairyland
+itself. There were all kinds of queer, nice, funny noises to be heard
+there--in one part of it especially, where Griselda made herself a seat
+of some moss-grown stones, and where she came so often that she got to
+know all the little flowers growing close round about, and even the
+particular birds whose nests were hard by.
+
+She used to sit there and _fancy_--fancy that she heard the wood-elves
+chattering under their breath, or the little underground gnomes and
+kobolds hammering at their fairy forges. And the tinkling of the brook
+in the distance sounded like the enchanted bells round the necks of the
+fairy kine, who are sent out to pasture sometimes on the upper world
+hillsides. For Griselda's head was crammed full, perfectly full, of
+fairy lore; and the mandarins' country, and butterfly-land, were quite
+as real to her as the every-day world about her.
+
+But all this time she was not forgotten by the cuckoo, as you will see.
+
+One day she was sitting in her favourite nest, feeling, notwithstanding
+the sunshine, and the flowers, and the soft sweet air, and the pleasant
+sounds all about, rather dull and lonely. For though it was only May, it
+was really quite a hot day, and Griselda had been all the morning at her
+lessons, and had tried very hard, and done them very well, and now she
+felt as if she deserved some reward. Suddenly in the distance, she heard
+a well-known sound, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+"Can that be the cuckoo?" she said to herself; and in a moment she felt
+sure that it must be. For, for some reason that I do not know enough
+about the habits of real "flesh and blood" cuckoos to explain, that bird
+was not known in the neighbourhood where Griselda's aunts lived. Some
+twenty miles or so further south it was heard regularly, but all this
+spring Griselda had never caught the sound of its familiar note, and she
+now remembered hearing it never came to these parts.
+
+So, "it must be my cuckoo," she said to herself. "He must be coming out
+to speak to me. How funny! I have never seen him by daylight."
+
+She listened. Yes, again there it was, "Cuckoo, cuckoo," as plain as
+possible, and nearer than before.
+
+"Cuckoo," cried Griselda, "do come and talk to me. It's such a long time
+since I have seen you, and I have nobody to play with."
+
+But there was no answer. Griselda held her breath to listen, but there
+was nothing to be heard.
+
+"Unkind cuckoo!" she exclaimed. "He is tricking me, I do believe; and
+to-day too, just when I was so dull and lonely."
+
+The tears came into her eyes, and she was beginning to think herself
+very badly used, when suddenly a rustling in the bushes beside her made
+her turn round, more than half expecting to see the cuckoo himself. But
+it was not he. The rustling went on for a minute or two without anything
+making its appearance, for the bushes were pretty thick just there, and
+any one scrambling up from the pine-wood below would have had rather
+hard work to get through, and indeed for a very big person such a feat
+would have been altogether impossible.
+
+It was not a very big person, however, who was causing all the rustling,
+and crunching of branches, and general commotion, which now absorbed
+Griselda's attention. She sat watching for another minute in perfect
+stillness, afraid of startling by the slightest movement the squirrel or
+rabbit or creature of some kind which she expected to see. At last--was
+that a squirrel or rabbit--that rosy, round face, with shaggy, fair hair
+falling over the eager blue eyes, and a general look of breathlessness
+and over-heatedness and determination?
+
+A squirrel or a rabbit! No, indeed, but a very sturdy, very merry, very
+ragged little boy.
+
+"Where are that cuckoo? Does _you_ know?" were the first words he
+uttered, as soon as he had fairly shaken himself, though not by any
+means all his clothes, free of the bushes (for ever so many pieces of
+jacket and knickerbockers, not to speak of one boot and half his hat,
+had been left behind on the way), and found breath to say something.
+
+Griselda stared at him for a moment without speaking, she was so
+astonished. It was months since she had spoken to a child, almost since
+she had seen one, and about children younger than herself she knew very
+little at any time, being the baby of the family at home, you see, and
+having only big brothers older than herself for play-fellows.
+
+"Who are you?" she said at last. "What's your name, and what do you
+want?"
+
+"My name's Master Phil, and I want that cuckoo," answered the little
+boy. "He camed up this way. I'm sure he did, for he called me all the
+way."
+
+"He's not here," said Griselda, shaking her head; "and this is my aunts'
+garden. No one is allowed to come here but friends of theirs. You had
+better go home; and you have torn your clothes so."
+
+"This aren't a garden," replied the little fellow undauntedly, looking
+round him; "this are a wood. There are blue-bells and primroses here,
+and that shows it aren't a garden--not anybody's garden, I mean, with
+walls round, for nobody to come in."
+
+"But it _is_," said Griselda, getting rather vexed. "If it isn't a
+garden it's _grounds_, private grounds, and nobody should come without
+leave. This path leads down to the wood, and there's a door in the wall
+at the bottom to get into the lane. You may go down that way, little
+boy. No one comes scrambling up the way you did."
+
+"But I want to find the cuckoo," said the little boy. "I do so want to
+find the cuckoo."
+
+His voice sounded almost as if he were going to cry, and his pretty,
+hot, flushed face puckered up. Griselda's heart smote her; she looked at
+him more carefully. He was such a very little boy, after all; she did
+not like to be cross to him.
+
+"How old are you?" she asked.
+
+"Five and a bit. I had a birthday after the summer, and if I'm good,
+nurse says perhaps I'll have one after next summer too. Do you ever have
+birthdays?" he went on, peering up at Griselda. "Nurse says she used to
+when she was young, but she never has any now."
+
+"_Have_ you a nurse?" asked Griselda, rather surprised; for, to tell the
+truth, from "Master Phil's" appearance, she had not felt at all sure
+what _sort_ of little boy he was, or rather what sort of people he
+belonged to.
+
+"Of course I have a nurse, and a mother too," said the little boy,
+opening wide his eyes in surprise at the question. "Haven't you? Perhaps
+you're too big, though. People leave off having nurses and mothers when
+they're big, don't they? Just like birthdays. But _I_ won't. I won't
+never leave off having a mother, any way. I don't care so much about
+nurse and birthdays, not _kite_ so much. Did you care when you had to
+leave off, when you got too big?"
+
+"I hadn't to leave off because I got big," said Griselda sadly. "I left
+off when I was much littler than you," she went on, unconsciously
+speaking as Phil would best understand her. "My mother died."
+
+"I'm werry sorry," said Phil; and the way in which he said it quite
+overcame Griselda's unfriendliness. "But perhaps you've a nice nurse. My
+nurse is rather nice; but she _will_ 'cold me to-day, won't she?" he
+added, laughing, pointing to the terrible rents in his garments. "These
+are my very oldestest things; that's a good thing, isn't it? Nurse says
+I don't look like Master Phil in these, but when I have on my blue
+welpet, then I look like Master Phil. I shall have my blue welpet when
+mother comes."
+
+"Is your mother away?" said Griselda.
+
+"Oh yes, she's been away a long time; so nurse came here to take care of
+me at the farm-house, you know. Mother was ill, but she's better now,
+and some day she'll come too."
+
+"Do you like being at the farm-house? Have you anybody to play with?"
+said Griselda.
+
+Phil shook his curly head. "I never have anybody to play with," he said.
+"I'd like to play with you if you're not too big. And do you think you
+could help me to find the cuckoo?" he added insinuatingly.
+
+"What do you know about the cuckoo?" said Griselda.
+
+[Illustration: "BUT I MAY SEE YOU AGAIN," SAID PHIL]
+
+"He called me," said Phil, "he called me lots of times; and to-day nurse
+was busy, so I thought I'd come. And do you know," he added
+mysteriously, "I do believe the cuckoo's a fairy, and when I find him
+I'm going to ask him to show me the way to fairyland."
+
+"He says we must all find the way ourselves," said Griselda, quite
+forgetting to whom she was speaking.
+
+"_Does_ he?" cried Phil, in great excitement. "Do you know him, then?
+and have you asked him? Oh, do tell me."
+
+Griselda recollected herself. "You couldn't understand," she said. "Some
+day perhaps I'll tell you--I mean if ever I see you again."
+
+"But I may see you again," said Phil, settling himself down comfortably
+beside Griselda on her mossy stone. "You'll let me come, won't you? I
+like to talk about fairies, and nurse doesn't understand. And if the
+cuckoo knows you, perhaps that's why he called me to come to play with
+you."
+
+"How did he call you?" asked Griselda.
+
+"First," said Phil gravely, "it was in the night. I was asleep, and I
+had been wishing I had somebody to play with, and then I d'eamed of the
+cuckoo--such a nice d'eam. And when I woke up I heard him calling me,
+and I wasn't d'eaming then. And then when I was in the field he called
+me, but I _couldn't_ find him, and nurse said 'Nonsense.' And to-day he
+called me again, so I camed up through the bushes. And mayn't I come
+again? Perhaps if we both tried together we could find the way to
+fairyland. Do you think we could?"
+
+"I don't know," said Griselda, dreamily. "There's a great deal to learn
+first, the cuckoo says."
+
+"Have you learnt a great deal?" (he called it "a gate deal") asked Phil,
+looking up at Griselda with increased respect. "_I_ don't know scarcely
+nothing. Mother was ill such a long time before she went away, but I
+know she wanted me to learn to read books. But nurse is too old to teach
+me."
+
+"Shall I teach you?" said Griselda. "I can bring some of my old books
+and teach you here after I have done my own lessons."
+
+"And then mother _would_ be surprised when she comes back," said Master
+Phil, clapping his hands. "Oh, _do_. And when I've learnt to read a
+great deal, do you think the cuckoo would show us the way to fairyland?"
+
+"I don't think it was that sort of learning he meant," said Griselda.
+"But I dare say that would help. I _think_," she went on, lowering her
+voice a little, and looking down gravely into Phil's earnest eyes, "I
+_think_ he means mostly learning to be very good--very, _very_ good, you
+know."
+
+"Gooder than you?" said Phil.
+
+"Oh dear, yes; lots and lots gooder than me," replied Griselda.
+
+"_I_ think you're very good," observed Phil, in a parenthesis. Then he
+went on with his cross-questioning.
+
+"Gooder than mother?"
+
+"I don't know your mother, so how can I tell how good she is?" said
+Griselda.
+
+"_I_ can tell you," said Phil, importantly. "She is just as good as--as
+good as--as good as _good_. That's what she is."
+
+"You mean she couldn't be better," said Griselda, smiling.
+
+"Yes, that'll do, if you like. Would that be good enough for us to be,
+do you think?"
+
+"We must ask the cuckoo," said Griselda. "But I'm sure it would be a
+good thing for you to learn to read. You must ask your nurse to let you
+come here every afternoon that it's fine, and I'll ask my aunt."
+
+"I needn't ask nurse," said Phil composedly; "she'll never know where I
+am, and I needn't tell her. She doesn't care what I do, except tearing
+my clothes; and when she scolds me, _I_ don't care."
+
+"_That_ isn't good, Phil," said Griselda gravely. "You'll never be as
+good as good if you speak like that."
+
+"What should I say, then? Tell me," said the little boy submissively.
+
+"You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I'm
+much bigger than you, and I won't let you tear your clothes. And you
+should tell her you're very sorry you've torn them to-day."
+
+"Very well," said Phil, "I'll say that. But, oh see!" he exclaimed,
+darting off, "there's a field mouse! If only I could catch him!"
+
+Of course he couldn't catch him, nor could Griselda either; very ready,
+though, she was to do her best. But it was great fun all the same, and
+the children laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves tremendously. And
+when they were tired they sat down again and gathered flowers for
+nosegays, and Griselda was surprised to find how clever Phil was about
+it. He was much quicker than she at spying out the prettiest blossoms,
+however hidden behind tree, or stone, or shrub. And he told her of all
+the best places for flowers near by, and where grew the largest
+primroses and the sweetest violets, in a way that astonished her.
+
+"You're such a little boy," she said; "how do you know so much about
+flowers?"
+
+"I've had no one else to play with," he said innocently. "And then, you
+know, the fairies are so fond of them."
+
+When Griselda thought it was time to go home, she led little Phil down
+the wood-path, and through the door in the wall opening on to the lane.
+
+"Now you can find your way home without scrambling through any more
+bushes, can't you, Master Phil?" she said.
+
+"Yes, thank you, and I'll come again to that place to-morrow afternoon,
+shall I?" asked Phil. "I'll know when--after I've had my dinner and
+raced three times round the big field, then it'll be time. That's how it
+was to-day."
+
+"I should think it would do if you _walked_ three times--or twice if you
+like--round the field. It isn't a good thing to race just when you've
+had your dinner," observed Griselda sagely. "And you mustn't try to come
+if it isn't fine, for my aunts won't let me go out if it rains even the
+tiniest bit. And of course you must ask your nurse's leave."
+
+"Very well," said little Phil as he trotted off. "I'll try to remember
+all those things. I'm so glad you'll play with me again; and if you see
+the cuckoo, please thank him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+UP AND DOWN THE CHIMNEY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "_Helper._ Well, but if it was all dream, it would be the same as
+    if it was all real, would it not?
+
+    _Keeper._ Yes, I see. I mean, Sir, I do _not_ see."--_A Liliput
+    Revel._
+
+
+_Not_ having "just had her dinner," and feeling very much inclined for
+her tea, Griselda ran home at a great rate.
+
+She felt, too, in such good spirits; it had been so delightful to have a
+companion in her play.
+
+"What a good thing it was I didn't make Phil run away before I found out
+what a nice little boy he was," she said to herself. "I must look out my
+old reading books to-night. I shall so like teaching him, poor little
+boy, and the cuckoo will be pleased at my doing something useful, I'm
+sure."
+
+Tea was quite ready, in fact waiting for her, when she came in. This was
+a meal she always had by herself, brought up on a tray to Dorcas's
+little sitting-room, where Dorcas waited upon her. And sometimes when
+Griselda was in a particularly good humour she would beg Dorcas to sit
+down and have a cup of tea with her--a liberty the old servant was far
+too dignified and respectful to have thought of taking, unless specially
+requested to do so.
+
+This evening, as you know, Griselda was in a very particularly good
+humour, and besides this, so very full of her adventures, that she would
+have been glad of an even less sympathising listener than Dorcas was
+likely to be.
+
+"Sit down, Dorcas, and have some more tea, do," she said coaxingly. "It
+looks ever so much more comfortable, and I'm sure you could eat a
+little more if you tried, whether you've had your tea in the kitchen or
+not. I'm _fearfully_ hungry, I can tell you. You'll have to cut a whole
+lot more bread and butter and not 'ladies' slices' either."
+
+"How your tongue does go, to be sure, Miss Griselda," said Dorcas,
+smiling, as she seated herself on the chair Griselda had drawn in for
+her.
+
+"And why shouldn't it?" said Griselda saucily. "It doesn't do it any
+harm. But oh, Dorcas, I've had such fun this afternoon--really, you
+couldn't guess what I've been doing."
+
+"Very likely not, missie," said Dorcas.
+
+"But you might try to guess. Oh no, I don't think you need--guessing
+takes such a time, and I want to tell you. Just fancy, Dorcas, I've been
+playing with a little boy in the wood."
+
+"Playing with a little boy, Miss Griselda!" exclaimed Dorcas, aghast.
+
+"Yes, and he's coming again to-morrow, and the day after, and every
+day, I dare say," said Griselda. "He _is_ such a nice little boy."
+
+"But, missie," began Dorcas.
+
+"Well? What's the matter? You needn't look like that--as if I had done
+something naughty," said Griselda sharply.
+
+"But you'll tell your aunt, missie?"
+
+"Of course," said Griselda, looking up fearlessly into Dorcas's face
+with her bright grey eyes. "Of course; why shouldn't I? I must ask her
+to give the little boy leave to come into _our_ grounds; and I told the
+little boy to be sure to tell his nurse, who takes care of him, about
+his playing with me."
+
+"His nurse," repeated Dorcas, in a tone of some relief. "Then he must be
+quite a little boy, perhaps Miss Grizzel would not object so much in
+that case."
+
+"Why should she object at all? She might know I wouldn't want to play
+with a naughty rude boy," said Griselda.
+
+"She thinks all boys rude and naughty, I'm afraid, missie," said
+Dorcas. "All, that is to say, excepting your dear papa. But then, of
+course, she had the bringing up of _him_ in her own way from the
+beginning."
+
+"Well, I'll ask her, any way," said Griselda, "and if she says I'm not
+to play with him, I shall think--I know what I shall _think_ of Aunt
+Grizzel, whether I _say_ it or not."
+
+And the old look of rebellion and discontent settled down again on her
+rosy face.
+
+"Be careful, missie, now do, there's a dear good girl," said Dorcas
+anxiously, an hour later, when Griselda, dressed as usual in her little
+white muslin frock, was ready to join her aunts at dessert.
+
+But Griselda would not condescend to make any reply.
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," she said suddenly, when she had eaten an orange and
+three biscuits and drunk half a glass of home-made elder-berry wine,
+"Aunt Grizzel, when I was out in the garden to-day--down the wood-path,
+I mean--I met a little boy, and he played with me, and I want to know
+if he may come every day to play with me."
+
+Griselda knew she was not making her request in a very amiable or
+becoming manner; she knew, indeed, that she was making it in such a way
+as was almost certain to lead to its being refused; and yet, though she
+was really so very, very anxious to get leave to play with little Phil,
+she took a sort of spiteful pleasure in injuring her own cause.
+
+How _foolish_ ill-temper makes us! Griselda had allowed herself to get
+so angry at the _thought_ of being thwarted that had her aunt looked up
+quietly and said at once, "Oh yes, you may have the little boy to play
+with you whenever you like," she would really, in a strange distorted
+sort of way, have been _disappointed_.
+
+But, of course, Miss Grizzel made no such reply. Nothing less than a
+miracle could have made her answer Griselda otherwise than as she did.
+Like Dorcas, for an instant, she was utterly "flabbergasted," if you
+know what that means. For she was really quite an old lady, you know,
+and sensible as she was, things upset her much more easily than when she
+was younger.
+
+Naughty Griselda saw her uneasiness, and enjoyed it.
+
+"Playing with a boy!" exclaimed Miss Grizzel. "A boy in my grounds, and
+you, my niece, to have played with him!"
+
+"Yes," said Griselda coolly, "and I want to play with him again."
+
+"Griselda," said her aunt, "I am too astonished to say more at present.
+Go to bed."
+
+"Why should I go to bed? It is not my bedtime," cried Griselda, blazing
+up. "What have I done to be sent to bed as if I were in disgrace?"
+
+"Go to bed," repeated Miss Grizzel. "I will speak to you to-morrow."
+
+"You are very unfair and unjust," said Griselda, starting up from her
+chair. "That's all the good of being honest and telling everything. I
+might have played with the little boy every day for a month and you
+would never have known, if I hadn't told you."
+
+She banged across the room as she spoke, and out at the door, slamming
+it behind her rudely. Then upstairs like a whirlwind; but when she got
+to her own room, she sat down on the floor and burst into tears, and
+when Dorcas came up, nearly half an hour later, she was still in the
+same place, crouched up in a little heap, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Oh, missie, missie," said Dorcas, "it's just what I was afraid of!"
+
+As Griselda rushed out of the room Miss Grizzel leant back in her chair
+and sighed deeply.
+
+"Already," she said faintly. "She was never so violent before. Can one
+afternoon's companionship with rudeness have already contaminated her?
+Already, Tabitha--can it be so?"
+
+"Already," said Miss Tabitha, softly shaking her head, which somehow
+made her look wonderfully like an old cat, for she felt cold of an
+evening and usually wore a very fine woolly shawl of a delicate grey
+shade, and the borders of her cap and the ruffles round her throat and
+wrists were all of fluffy, downy white--"already," she said.
+
+"Yet," said Miss Grizzel, recovering herself a little, "it is true what
+the child said. She might have deceived us. Have I been hard upon her,
+Sister Tabitha?"
+
+"Hard upon her! Sister Grizzel," said Miss Tabitha with more energy than
+usual; "no, certainly not. For once, Sister Grizzel, I disagree with
+you. Hard upon her! Certainly not."
+
+But Miss Grizzel did not feel happy.
+
+When she went up to her own room at night she was surprised to find
+Dorcas waiting for her, instead of the younger maid.
+
+"I thought you would not mind having me, instead of Martha, to-night,
+ma'am," she said, "for I did so want to speak to you about Miss
+Griselda. The poor, dear young lady has gone to bed so very unhappy."
+
+"But do you know what she has done, Dorcas?" said Miss Grizzel.
+"Admitted a _boy_, a rude, common, impertinent _boy_, into my precincts,
+and played with him--with a _boy_, Dorcas."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Dorcas. "I know all about it, ma'am. Miss Griselda
+has told me all. But if you would allow me to give an opinion, it isn't
+quite so bad. He's quite a little boy, ma'am--between five and six--only
+just about the age Miss Griselda's dear papa was when he first came to
+us, and, by all I can hear, quite a little gentleman."
+
+"A little gentleman," repeated Miss Grizzel, "and not six years old!
+That is less objectionable than I expected. What is his name, as you
+know so much, Dorcas?"
+
+"Master Phil," replied Dorcas. "That is what he told Miss Griselda, and
+she never thought to ask him more. But I'll tell you how we could get to
+hear more about him, I think, ma'am. From what Miss Griselda says, I
+believe he is staying at Mr. Crouch's farm, and that, you know, ma'am,
+belongs to my Lady Lavander, though it is a good way from Merrybrow
+Hall. My lady is pretty sure to know about the child, for she knows all
+that goes on among her tenants, and I remember hearing that a little
+gentleman and his nurse had come to Mr. Crouch's to lodge for six
+months."
+
+Miss Grizzel listened attentively.
+
+"Thank you, Dorcas," she said, when the old servant had left off
+speaking. "You have behaved with your usual discretion. I shall drive
+over to Merrybrow to-morrow, and make inquiry. And you may tell Miss
+Griselda in the morning what I purpose doing; but tell her also that, as
+a punishment for her rudeness and ill-temper, she must have breakfast in
+her own room to-morrow, and not see me till I send for her. Had she
+restrained her temper and explained the matter, all this distress might
+have been saved."
+
+Dorcas did not wait till "to-morrow morning"; she could not bear to
+think of Griselda's unhappiness. From her mistress's room she went
+straight to the little girl's, going in very softly, so as not to
+disturb her should she be sleeping.
+
+"Are you awake, missie?" she said gently.
+
+Griselda started up.
+
+"Yes," she exclaimed. "Is it you, cuckoo? I'm quite awake."
+
+"Bless the child," said Dorcas to herself, "how her head does run on
+Miss Sybilla's cuckoo. It's really wonderful. There's more in such
+things than some people think."
+
+But aloud she only replied--
+
+"It's Dorcas, missie. No fairy, only old Dorcas come to comfort you a
+bit. Listen, missie. Your auntie is going over to Merrybrow Hall
+to-morrow to inquire about this little Master Phil from my Lady
+Lavander, for we think it's at one of her ladyship's farms that he and
+his nurse are staying, and if she hears that he's a nice-mannered little
+gentleman, and comes of good parents--why, missie, there's no saying
+but that you'll get leave to play with him as much as you like."
+
+"But not to-morrow, Dorcas," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel never goes to
+Merrybrow till the afternoon. She won't be back in time for me to play
+with Phil to-morrow."
+
+"No, but next day, perhaps," said Dorcas.
+
+"Oh, but that won't do," said Griselda, beginning to cry again. "Poor
+little Phil will be coming up to the wood-path _to-morrow_, and if he
+doesn't find me, he'll be _so_ unhappy--perhaps he'll never come again
+if I don't meet him to-morrow."
+
+Dorcas saw that the little girl was worn out and excited, and not yet
+inclined to take a reasonable view of things.
+
+"Go to sleep, missie," she said kindly, "and don't think anything more
+about it till to-morrow. It'll be all right, you'll see."
+
+Her patience touched Griselda.
+
+"You are very kind, Dorcas," she said. "I don't mean to be cross to
+_you_; but I can't bear to think of poor little Phil. Perhaps he'll sit
+down on my mossy stone and cry. Poor little Phil!"
+
+But notwithstanding her distress, when Dorcas had left her she did feel
+her heart a little lighter, and somehow or other before long she fell
+asleep.
+
+When she awoke it seemed to be suddenly, and she had the feeling that
+something had disturbed her. She lay for a minute or two perfectly
+still--listening. Yes; there it was--the soft, faint rustle in the air
+that she knew so well. It seemed as if something was moving away from
+her.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said gently, "is that you?"
+
+A moment's pause, then came the answer--the pretty greeting she
+expected.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," soft and musical. Then the cuckoo spoke.
+
+"Well, Griselda" he said, "and how are you? It's a good while since we
+have had any fun together."
+
+"That's not _my_ fault," said Griselda sharply. She was not yet feeling
+quite as amiable as might have been desired, you see. "That's
+_certainly_ not my fault," she repeated.
+
+"I never said it was," replied the cuckoo. "Why will you jump at
+conclusions so? It's a very bad habit, for very often you jump _over_
+them, you see, and go too far. One should always _walk_ up to
+conclusions, very slowly and evenly, right foot first, then left, one
+with another--that's the way to get where you want to go, and feel sure
+of your ground. Do you see?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not, and I'm not going to speak to you if
+you go on at me like that. You might see I don't want to be lectured
+when I am so unhappy."
+
+"What are you unhappy about?"
+
+"About Phil, of course. I won't tell you, for I believe you know," said
+Griselda. "Wasn't it you that sent him to play with me? I was so
+pleased, and I thought it was very kind of you; but it's all spoilt
+now."
+
+"But I heard Dorcas saying that your aunt is going over to consult my
+Lady Lavander about it," said the cuckoo. "It'll be all right; you
+needn't be in such low spirits about nothing."
+
+"Were you in the room _then_?" said Griselda. "How funny you are,
+cuckoo. But it isn't all right. Don't you see, poor little Phil will be
+coming up the wood-path to-morrow afternoon to meet me, and I won't be
+there! I can't bear to think of it."
+
+"Is that all?" said the cuckoo. "It really is extraordinary how some
+people make troubles out of nothing! We can easily tell Phil not to come
+till the day after. Come along."
+
+"Come along," repeated Griselda; "what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, I forgot," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Put out your
+hand. There, do you feel me?"
+
+"Yes," said Griselda, stroking gently the soft feathers which seemed to
+be close under her hand. "Yes, I feel you."
+
+"Well, then," said the cuckoo, "put your arms round my neck, and hold me
+firm. I'll lift you up."
+
+"How _can_ you talk such nonsense, cuckoo?" said Griselda. "Why, one of
+my little fingers would clasp your neck. How can I put my arms round
+it?"
+
+"Try," said the cuckoo.
+
+Somehow Griselda had to try.
+
+She held out her arms in the cuckoo's direction, as if she expected his
+neck to be about the size of a Shetland pony's, or a large Newfoundland
+dog's; and, to her astonishment, so it was! A nice, comfortable,
+feathery neck it felt--so soft that she could not help laying her head
+down upon it, and nestling in the downy cushion.
+
+"That's right," said the cuckoo.
+
+Then he seemed to give a little spring, and Griselda felt herself
+altogether lifted on to his back. She lay there as comfortably as
+possible--it felt so firm as well as soft. Up he flew a little way--then
+stopped short.
+
+"Are you all right?" he inquired. "You're not afraid of falling off?"
+
+"Oh no," said Griselda; "not a bit."
+
+"You needn't be," said the cuckoo, "for you couldn't if you tried. I'm
+going on, then."
+
+"Where to?" said Griselda.
+
+"Up the chimney first," said the cuckoo.
+
+"But there'll never be room," said Griselda. "I might _perhaps_ crawl up
+like a sweep, hands and knees, you know, like going up a ladder. But
+stretched out like this--it's just as if I were lying on a sofa--I
+_couldn't_ go up the chimney."
+
+"Couldn't you?" said the cuckoo. "We'll see. _I_ intend to go, any way,
+and to take you with me. Shut your eyes--one, two, three--here
+goes--we'll be up the chimney before you know."
+
+It was quite true. Griselda shut her eyes tight. She felt nothing but a
+pleasant sort of rush. Then she heard the cuckoo's voice, saying--
+
+"Well, wasn't that well done? Open your eyes and look about you."
+
+Griselda did so. Where were they?
+
+They were floating about above the top of the house, which Griselda saw
+down below them, looking dark and vast. She felt confused and
+bewildered.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, "I don't understand. Is it I that have grown little,
+or you that have grown big?"
+
+"Whichever you please," said the cuckoo. "You have forgotten. I told you
+long ago it is all a matter of fancy."
+
+"Yes, if everything grew little _together_," persisted Griselda; "but it
+isn't everything. It's just you or me, or both of us. No, it can't be
+both of us. And I don't think it can be me, for if any of me had grown
+little all would, and my eyes haven't grown little, for everything looks
+as big as usual, only _you_ a great deal bigger. My eyes can't have
+grown bigger without the rest of me, surely, for the moon looks just the
+same. And I must have grown little, or else we couldn't have got up the
+chimney. Oh, cuckoo, you have put all my thinking into such a muddle!"
+
+"Never mind," said the cuckoo. "It'll show you how little consequence
+big and little are of. Make yourself comfortable all the same. Are you
+all right? Shut your eyes if you like. I'm going pretty fast."
+
+"Where to?" said Griselda.
+
+"To Phil, of course," said the cuckoo. "What a bad memory you have! Are
+you comfortable?"
+
+"_Very_, thank you," replied Griselda, giving the cuckoo's neck an
+affectionate hug as she spoke.
+
+"That'll do, thank you. Don't throttle me, if it's quite the same to
+you," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one, two, three," and off he flew
+again.
+
+Griselda shut her eyes and lay still. It was delicious--the gliding, yet
+darting motion, like nothing she had ever felt before. It did not make
+her the least giddy, either; but a slightly sleepy feeling came over
+her. She felt no inclination to open her eyes; and, indeed, at the rate
+they were going, she could have distinguished very little had she done
+so.
+
+Suddenly the feeling in the air about her changed. For an instant it
+felt more _rushy_ than before, and there was a queer, dull sound in her
+ears. Then she felt that the cuckoo had stopped.
+
+"Where are we?" she asked.
+
+"We've just come _down_ a chimney again," said the cuckoo. "Open your
+eyes and clamber down off my back, but don't speak loud, or you'll waken
+him, and that wouldn't do. There you are--the moonlight's coming in
+nicely at the window--you can see your way."
+
+Griselda found herself in a little bed-room, quite a tiny one, and by
+the look of the simple furniture and the latticed window, she saw that
+she was not in a grand house. But everything looked very neat and nice,
+and on a little bed in one corner lay a lovely sleeping child. It was
+Phil! He looked so pretty asleep--his shaggy curls all tumbling about,
+his rosy mouth half open as if smiling, one little hand tossed over his
+head, the other tight clasping a little basket which he had insisted on
+taking to bed with him, meaning as soon as he was dressed the next
+morning to run out and fill it with flowers for the little girl he had
+made friends with.
+
+Griselda stepped up to the side of the bed on tiptoe. The cuckoo had
+disappeared, but Griselda heard his voice. It seemed to come from a
+little way up the chimney.
+
+"Don't wake him," said the cuckoo, "but whisper what you want to say
+into his ear, as soon as I have called him. He'll understand; he's
+accustomed to my ways."
+
+Then came the old note, soft and musical as ever--
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. Listen, Phil," said the cuckoo, and without
+opening his eyes a change passed over the little boy's face. Griselda
+could see that he was listening to hear her message.
+
+"He thinks he's dreaming, I suppose," she said to herself with a smile.
+Then she whispered softly--
+
+"Phil, dear, don't come to play with me to-morrow, for I can't come. But
+come the day after. I'll be at the wood-path then."
+
+"Welly well," murmured Phil. Then he put out his two arms towards
+Griselda, all without opening his eyes, and she, bending down, kissed
+him softly.
+
+"Phil's so sleepy," he whispered, like a baby almost. Then he turned
+over and went to sleep more soundly than before.
+
+"That'll do," said the cuckoo. "Come along, Griselda."
+
+Griselda obediently made her way to the place whence the cuckoo's voice
+seemed to come.
+
+"Shut your eyes and put your arms round my neck again," said the cuckoo.
+
+She did not hesitate this time. It all happened just as before. There
+came the same sort of rushy sound; then the cuckoo stopped, and Griselda
+opened her eyes.
+
+They were up in the air again--a good way up, too, for some grand old
+elms that stood beside the farmhouse were gently waving their topmost
+branches a yard or two from where the cuckoo was poising himself and
+Griselda.
+
+"Where shall we go to now?" he said. "Or would you rather go home? Are
+you tired?"
+
+"Tired!" exclaimed Griselda. "I should rather think not. How could I be
+tired, cuckoo?"
+
+"Very well, don't excite yourself about nothing, whatever you do," said
+the cuckoo. "Say where you'd like to go."
+
+"How can I?" said Griselda. "You know far more nice places than I do."
+
+"You don't care to go back to the mandarins, or the butterflies, I
+suppose?" asked the cuckoo.
+
+"No, thank you," said Griselda; "I'd like something new. And I'm not
+sure that I care for seeing any more countries of that kind, unless you
+could take me to the _real_ fairyland."
+
+"_I_ can't do that, you know," said the cuckoo.
+
+Just then a faint "soughing" sound among the branches suggested another
+idea to Griselda.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "take me to the sea. It's _such_ a time since I
+saw the sea. I can fancy I hear it; do take me to see it."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "That after supper time has come,
+      And silver dews the meadow steep,
+    And all is silent in the home,
+      And even nurses are asleep,
+    That be it late, or be it soon,
+    Upon this lovely night in June
+    They both will step into the moon."
+
+
+"Very well," said the cuckoo. "You would like to look about you a little
+on the way, perhaps, Griselda, as we shall not be going down chimneys,
+or anything of that kind just at present."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "I think I should. I'm rather tired of shutting
+my eyes, and I'm getting quite accustomed to flying about with you,
+cuckoo."
+
+"Turn on your side, then," said the cuckoo, "and you won't have to twist
+your neck to see over my shoulder. Are you comfortable now? And,
+by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find
+the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round
+you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it."
+
+"Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll
+tuck it all round me like a rug--that's it. I _am_ so warm now, cuckoo."
+
+"Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little
+girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing--no words
+can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her.
+
+"How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all
+great, big _suns_? I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as
+nice, funny little things."
+
+"They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking
+at now."
+
+"I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so
+good-natured. Are they _all_ twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr.
+Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and _he_ says they
+are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it."
+
+"He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo.
+
+"Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they
+never rest just for a minute?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda gave a little wriggle.
+
+"What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they
+stood still now and then."
+
+"Would it?" said the cuckoo. "I know somebody who would soon find fault
+if they did. What would you say to no summer; no day, or no night,
+whichever it happened not to be, you see; nothing growing, and nothing
+to eat before long? That's what it would be if they stood still, you
+see, because----"
+
+"Thank you, cuckoo," interrupted Griselda. "It's very nice to hear
+you--I mean, very dreadful to think of, but I don't want you to explain.
+I'll ask Mr. Kneebreeches when I'm at my lessons. You might tell me one
+thing, however. What's at the other side of the moon?"
+
+"There's a variety of opinions," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What are they? Tell me the funniest."
+
+"Some say all the unfinished work of the world is kept there," said the
+cuckoo.
+
+"_That's_ not funny," said Griselda. "What a messy place it must be!
+Why, even _my_ unfinished work makes quite a heap. I don't like that
+opinion at all, cuckoo. Tell me another."
+
+"I _have_ heard," said the cuckoo, "that among the places there you
+would find the country of the little black dogs. You know what sort of
+creatures those are?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," said Griselda, rather reluctantly.
+
+"There are a good many of them in this world, as of course you know,"
+continued the cuckoo. "But up there, they are much worse than here. When
+a child has made a great pet of one down here, I've heard tell the
+fairies take him up there when his parents and nurses think he's
+sleeping quietly in his bed, and make him work hard all night, with his
+own particular little black dog on his back. And it's so dreadfully
+heavy--for every time he takes it on his back down here it grows a pound
+heavier up there--that by morning the child is quite worn out. I dare
+say you've noticed how haggered and miserable some ill-tempered children
+get to look--now you'll know the reason."
+
+"Thank you, cuckoo," said Griselda again; "but I can't say I like this
+opinion about the other side of the moon any better than the first. If
+you please, I would rather not talk about it any more."
+
+"Oh, but it's not so bad an idea after all," said the cuckoo. "Lots of
+children, they say, get quite cured in the country of the little black
+dogs. It's this way--for every time a child refuses to take the dog on
+his back down here it grows a pound lighter up there, so at last any
+sensible child learns how much better it is to have nothing to say to it
+at all, and gets out of the way of it, you see. Of course, there _are_
+children whom nothing would cure, I suppose. What becomes of them I
+really can't say. Very likely they get crushed into pancakes by the
+weight of the dogs at last, and then nothing more is ever heard of
+them."
+
+"Horrid!" said Griselda, with a shudder. "Don't let's talk about it any
+more, cuckoo; tell me your _own_ opinion about what there really is on
+the other side of the moon."
+
+The cuckoo was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he stopped short in
+the middle of his flight.
+
+"Would you like to see for yourself, Griselda?" he said. "There would be
+about time to do it," he added to himself, "and it would fulfil her
+other wish, too."
+
+"See the moon for myself, do you mean?" cried Griselda, clasping her
+hands. "I should rather think I would. Will you really take me there,
+cuckoo?"
+
+"To the other side," said the cuckoo. "I couldn't take you to this
+side."
+
+"Why not? Not that I'd care to go to this side as much as to the other;
+for, of course, we can _see_ this side from here. But I'd like to know
+why you couldn't take me there."
+
+"For _reasons_," said the cuckoo drily. "I'll give you one if you like.
+If I took you to this side of the moon you wouldn't be yourself when you
+got there."
+
+"Who would I be, then?"
+
+"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "I told you once that there are a great
+many things you don't know. Now, I'll tell you something more. There are
+a great many things you're not _intended_ to know."
+
+"Very well," said Griselda. "But do tell me when you're going on again,
+and where you are going to take me to. There's no harm my asking that?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo. "I'm going on immediately, and I'm going to take
+you where you wanted to go to, only you must shut your eyes again, and
+lie perfectly still without talking, for I must put on steam--a good
+deal of steam--and I can't talk to you. Are you all right?"
+
+"All right," said Griselda.
+
+She had hardly said the words when she seemed to fall asleep. The
+rushing sound in the air all round her increased so greatly that she was
+conscious of nothing else. For a moment or two she tried to remember
+where she was, and where she was going, but it was useless. She forgot
+everything, and knew nothing more of what was passing till--till she
+heard the cuckoo again.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo; wake up, Griselda," he said.
+
+Griselda sat up.
+
+Where was she?
+
+Not certainly where she had been when she went to sleep. Not on the
+cuckoo's back, for there he was standing beside her, as tiny as usual.
+Either he had grown little again, or she had grown big--which, she
+supposed, it did not much matter. Only it was very queer!
+
+"Where am I, cuckoo?" she said.
+
+"Where you wished to be," he replied. "Look about you and see."
+
+Griselda looked about her. What did she see? Something that I can only
+give you a faint idea of, children; something so strange and unlike what
+she had ever seen before, that only in a dream could you see it as
+Griselda saw it. And yet _why_ it seemed to her so strange and unnatural
+I cannot well explain; if I could, my words would be as good as
+pictures, which I know they are not.
+
+After all, it was only the sea she saw; but such a great, strange,
+silent sea, for there were no waves. Griselda was seated on the shore,
+close beside the water's edge, but it did not come lapping up to her
+feet in the pretty, coaxing way that _our_ sea does when it is in a good
+humour. There were here and there faint ripples on the surface, caused
+by the slight breezes which now and then came softly round Griselda's
+face, but that was all. King Canute might have sat "from then till now"
+by this still, lifeless ocean without the chance of reading his silly
+attendants a lesson--if, indeed, there ever were such silly people,
+which I very much doubt.
+
+Griselda gazed with all her eyes. Then she suddenly gave a little
+shiver.
+
+"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "You have the mantle on--you're
+not cold?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I'm not cold; but somehow, cuckoo, I feel a little
+frightened. The sea is so strange, and so dreadfully big; and the light
+is so queer, too. What is the light, cuckoo? It isn't moonlight, is it?"
+
+"Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "You can't both have your cake and eat
+it, Griselda. Look up at the sky. There's no moon there, is there?"
+
+"No," said Griselda; "but what lots of stars, cuckoo. The light comes
+from them, I suppose? And where's the sun, cuckoo? Will it be rising
+soon? It isn't always like this up here, is it?"
+
+"Bless you, no," said the cuckoo. "There's sun enough, and rather too
+much, sometimes. How would you like a day a fortnight long, and nights
+to match? If it had been daytime here just now, I couldn't have brought
+you. It's just about the very middle of the night now, and in about a
+week of _your_ days the sun will begin to rise, because, you see----"
+
+"Oh, _dear_ cuckoo, please don't explain!" cried Griselda. "I'll promise
+to ask Mr. Kneebreeches, I will indeed. In fact, he was telling me
+something just like it to-day or yesterday--which should I say?--at my
+astronomy lesson. And that makes it so strange that you should have
+brought me up here to-night to see for myself, doesn't it, cuckoo?"
+
+"An odd coincidence," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What _would_ Mr. Kneebreeches think if I told him where I had been?"
+continued Griselda. "Only, you see, cuckoo, I never tell anybody about
+what I see when I am with you."
+
+"No," replied the cuckoo; "better not. ('Not that you could if you
+tried,' he added to himself.) You're not frightened now, Griselda, are
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't think I am," she replied. "But, cuckoo, isn't this sea
+_awfully_ big?"
+
+"Pretty well," said the cuckoo. "Just half, or nearly half, the size of
+the moon; and, no doubt, Mr. Kneebreeches has told you that the moon's
+diameter and circumference are respec----"
+
+"Oh _don't_, cuckoo!" interrupted Griselda, beseechingly. "I want to
+enjoy myself, and not to have lessons. Tell me something funny, cuckoo.
+Are there any mermaids in the moon-sea?"
+
+"Not exactly," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What a stupid way to answer," said Griselda. "There's no sense in that;
+there either must be or must not be. There couldn't be half mermaids."
+
+"I don't know about that," replied the cuckoo. "They might have been
+here once and have left their tails behind them, like Bopeep's sheep,
+you know; and some day they might be coming to find them again, you
+know. That would do for 'not exactly,' wouldn't it?"
+
+"Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," said Griselda. "Tell me, are there any
+mermaids, or fairies, or water-sprites, or any of those sort of
+creatures here?"
+
+"I must still say 'not exactly,'" said the cuckoo. "There are beings
+here, or rather there have been, and there may be again; but you,
+Griselda, can know no more than this."
+
+His tone was rather solemn, and again Griselda felt a little "eerie."
+
+"It's a dreadfully long way from home, any way," she said. "I feel as
+if, when I go back, I shall perhaps find I have been away fifty years or
+so, like the little boy in the fairy story. Cuckoo, I think I would like
+to go home. Mayn't I get on your back again?"
+
+"Presently," said the cuckoo. "Don't be uneasy, Griselda. Perhaps I'll
+take you home by a short cut."
+
+"Was ever any child here before?" asked Griselda, after a little pause.
+
+"Yes," said the cuckoo.
+
+"And did they get safe home again?"
+
+"Quite," said the cuckoo. "It's so silly of you, Griselda, to have all
+these ideas still about far and near, and big and little, and long and
+short, after all I've taught you and all you've seen."
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Griselda humbly; "but you see, cuckoo, I can't
+help it. I suppose I'm made so."
+
+"Perhaps," said the cuckoo, meditatively.
+
+He was silent for a minute. Then he spoke again. "Look over there,
+Griselda," he said. "There's the short cut."
+
+Griselda looked. Far, far over the sea, in the silent distance, she saw
+a tiny speck of light. It was very tiny; but yet the strange thing was
+that, far away as it appeared, and minute as it was, it seemed to throw
+off a thread of light to Griselda's very feet--right across the great
+sheet of faintly gleaming water. And as Griselda looked, the thread
+seemed to widen and grow, becoming at the same time brighter and
+clearer, till at last it lay before her like a path of glowing light.
+
+"Am I to walk along there?" she said softly to the cuckoo.
+
+"No," he replied; "wait."
+
+Griselda waited, looking still, and presently in the middle of the
+shining streak she saw something slowly moving--something from which
+the light came, for the nearer it got to her the shorter grew the
+glowing path, and behind the moving object the sea looked no brighter
+than before it had appeared.
+
+At last--at last, it came quite near--near enough for Griselda to
+distinguish clearly what it was.
+
+It was a little boat--the prettiest, the loveliest little boat that ever
+was seen; and it was rowed by a little figure that at first sight
+Griselda felt certain was a fairy. For it was a child with bright hair
+and silvery wings, which with every movement sparkled and shone like a
+thousand diamonds.
+
+Griselda sprang up and clapped her hands with delight. At the sound, the
+child in the boat turned and looked at her. For one instant she could
+not remember where she had seen him before; then she exclaimed,
+joyfully--
+
+"It is Phil! Oh, cuckoo, it is Phil. Have you turned into a fairy,
+Phil?"
+
+[Illustration: IT WAS ROWED BY A LITTLE FIGURE]
+
+But, alas, as she spoke the light faded away, the boy's figure
+disappeared, the sea and the shore and the sky were all as they had been
+before, lighted only by the faint, strange gleaming of the stars. Only
+the boat remained. Griselda saw it close to her, in the shallow water, a
+few feet from where she stood.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed in a tone of reproach and disappointment, "where
+is Phil gone? Why did you send him away?"
+
+"I didn't send him away," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Never
+mind, but get into the boat. It'll be all right, you'll see."
+
+"But are we to go away and leave Phil here, all alone at the other side
+of the moon?" said Griselda, feeling ready to cry.
+
+"Oh, you silly girl!" said the cuckoo. "Phil's all right, and in some
+ways he has a great deal more sense than you, I can tell you. Get into
+the boat and make yourself comfortable; lie down at the bottom and
+cover yourself up with the mantle. You needn't be afraid of wetting
+your feet a little, moon water never gives cold. There, now."
+
+Griselda did as she was told. She was beginning to feel rather tired,
+and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with
+the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her.
+
+"Who will row?" she said sleepily. "_You_ can't, cuckoo, with your tiny
+little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm----"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never
+knew.
+
+Off they glided somehow, but it seemed to Griselda that _somebody_
+rowed, for she heard the soft dip, dip of the oars as they went along,
+so regularly that she couldn't help beginning to count in time--one,
+two, three, four--on, on--she thought she had got nearly to a hundred,
+when----
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+"CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Children, try to be good!
+      That is the end of all teaching;
+    Easily understood,
+      And very easy in preaching.
+    And if you find it hard,
+      Your efforts you need but double;
+    Nothing deserves reward
+      Unless it has given us trouble."
+
+
+When she forgot everything, and fell fast, fast asleep, to wake, of
+course, in her own little bed as usual!
+
+"One of your tricks again, Mr. Cuckoo," she said to herself with a
+smile. "However, I don't mind. It _was_ a short cut home, and it was
+very comfortable in the boat, and I certainly saw a great deal last
+night, and I'm very much obliged to you--particularly for making it all
+right with Phil about not coming to play with me to-day. Ah! that
+reminds me, I'm in disgrace. I wonder if Aunt Grizzel will really make
+me stay in my room all day. How tired I shall be, and what will Mr.
+Kneebreeches think! But it serves me right. I _was_ very cross and
+rude."
+
+There came a tap at the door. It was Dorcas with the hot water.
+
+"Good morning, missie," she said gently, not feeling, to tell the truth,
+very sure as to what sort of a humour "missie" was likely to be found in
+this morning. "I hope you've slept well."
+
+"Exceedingly well, thank you, Dorcas. I've had a delightful night,"
+replied Griselda amiably, smiling to herself at the thought of what
+Dorcas would say if she knew where she had been, and what she had been
+doing since last she saw her.
+
+"That's good news," said Dorcas in a tone of relief; "and I've good news
+for you, too, missie. At least, I hope you'll think it so. Your aunt has
+ordered the carriage for quite early this morning--so you see she really
+wants to please you, missie, about playing with little Master Phil; and
+if to-morrow's a fine day, we'll be sure to find some way of letting him
+know to come."
+
+"Thank you, Dorcas. I hope it will be all right, and that Lady Lavander
+won't say anything against it. I dare say she won't. I feel ever so much
+happier this morning, Dorcas; and I'm very sorry I was so rude to Aunt
+Grizzel, for of course I know I _should_ obey her."
+
+"That's right, missie," said Dorcas approvingly.
+
+"It seems to me, Dorcas," said Griselda dreamily, when, a few minutes
+later, she was standing by the window while the old servant brushed out
+her thick, wavy hair, "it seems to me, Dorcas, that it's _all_ 'obeying
+orders' together. There's the sun now, just getting up, and the moon
+just going to bed--_they_ are always obeying, aren't they? I wonder why
+it should be so hard for people--for children, at least."
+
+"To be sure, missie, you do put it a way of your own," replied Dorcas,
+somewhat mystified; "but I see how you mean, I think, and it's quite
+true. And it _is_ a hard lesson to learn."
+
+"I want to learn it _well_, Dorcas," said Griselda, resolutely. "So will
+you please tell Aunt Grizzel that I'm very sorry about last night, and
+I'll do just as she likes about staying in my room or anything. But, if
+she _would_ let me, I'd far rather go down and do my lessons as usual
+for Mr. Kneebreeches. I won't ask to go out in the garden; but I would
+like to please Aunt Grizzel by doing my lessons _very_ well."
+
+Dorcas was both delighted and astonished. Never had she known her little
+"missie" so altogether submissive and reasonable.
+
+"I only hope the child's not going to be ill," she said to herself. But
+she proved a skilful ambassadress, notwithstanding her misgivings; and
+Griselda's imprisonment confined her only to the bounds of the house and
+terrace walk, instead of within the four walls of her own little room,
+as she had feared.
+
+Lessons _were_ very well done that day, and Mr. Kneebreeches' report was
+all that could be wished.
+
+"I am particularly gratified," he remarked to Miss Grizzel, "by the
+intelligence and interest Miss Griselda displays with regard to the
+study of astronomy, which I have recently begun to give her some
+elementary instruction in. And, indeed, I have no fault to find with the
+way in which any of the young lady's tasks are performed."
+
+"I am extremely glad to hear it," replied Miss Grizzel graciously, and
+the kiss with which she answered Griselda's request for forgiveness was
+a very hearty one.
+
+And it was "all right" about Phil.
+
+Lady Lavander knew all about him; his father and mother were friends of
+hers, for whom she had a great regard, and for some time she had been
+intending to ask the little boy to spend the day at Merrybrow Hall, to
+be introduced to her god-daughter Griselda. So, _of course_, as Lady
+Lavander knew all about him, there could be no objection to his playing
+in Miss Grizzel's garden!
+
+And "to-morrow" turned out a fine day. So altogether you can imagine
+that Griselda felt very happy and light-hearted as she ran down the
+wood-path to meet her little friend, whose rosy face soon appeared among
+the bushes.
+
+"What did you do yesterday, Phil?" asked Griselda. "Were you sorry not
+to come to play with me?"
+
+"No," said Phil mysteriously, "I didn't mind. I was looking for the way
+to fairyland to show you, and I do believe I've found it. Oh, it _is_
+such a pretty way."
+
+Griselda smiled.
+
+"I'm afraid the way to fairyland isn't so easily found," she said. "But
+I'd like to hear about where you went. Was it far?"
+
+"A good way," said Phil. "Won't you come with me? It's in the wood. I
+can show you quite well, and we can be back by tea-time."
+
+"Very well," said Griselda; and off they set.
+
+Whether it was the way to fairyland or not, it was not to be wondered at
+that little Phil thought so. He led Griselda right across the wood to a
+part where she had never been before. It was pretty rough work part of
+the way. The children had to fight with brambles and bushes, and here
+and there to creep through on hands and knees, and Griselda had to
+remind Phil several times of her promise to his nurse that his clothes
+should not be the worse for his playing with her, to prevent his
+scrambling through "anyhow" and leaving bits of his knickerbockers
+behind him.
+
+But when at last they reached Phil's favourite spot all their troubles
+were forgotten. Oh, how pretty it was! It was a sort of tiny glade in
+the very middle of the wood--a little green nest enclosed all round by
+trees, and right through it the merry brook came rippling along as if
+rejoicing at getting out into the sunlight again for a while. And all
+the choicest and sweetest of the early summer flowers seemed to be
+collected here in greater variety and profusion than in any other part
+of the wood.
+
+"_Isn't_ it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on the
+soft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'm
+sure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland is
+hidden somewhere here, if only we could find it."
+
+"If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but,
+any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come here
+very often."
+
+Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work to make themselves a house
+in the centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed it
+very much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood and
+big stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes up
+with bracken and furze.
+
+"And if the fairies _do_ come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleased
+to find a house all ready, won't they?"
+
+Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dry
+leaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it was
+quite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they were
+very hot and very tired and _rather_ dirty. Suddenly a thought struck
+Griselda.
+
+"Phil," she said, "it must be getting late."
+
+"Past tea-time?" he said coolly.
+
+"I dare say it is. Look how low down the sun has got. Come, Phil, we
+must be quick. Where is the place we came out of the wood at?"
+
+"Here," said Phil, diving at a little opening among the bushes.
+
+Griselda followed him. He had been a good guide hitherto, and she
+certainly could not have found her way alone. They scrambled on for some
+way, then the bushes suddenly seemed to grow less thick, and in a minute
+they came out upon a little path.
+
+"Phil," said Griselda, "this isn't the way we came."
+
+"Isn't it?" said Phil, looking about him. "Then we must have comed the
+wrong way."
+
+"I'm afraid so," said Griselda, "and it seems to be so late already. I'm
+so sorry, for Aunt Grizzel will be vexed, and I did so want to please
+her. Will your nurse be vexed, Phil?"
+
+"I don't care if she are," replied Phil valiantly.
+
+"You shouldn't say that, Phil. You know we _shouldn't_ have stayed so
+long playing."
+
+"Nebber mind," said Phil. "If it was mother I would mind. Mother's so
+good, you don't know. And she never 'colds me, except when I _am_
+naughty--so I _do_ mind."
+
+"She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda in
+distress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way
+_shall_ we go?"
+
+They had followed the little path till it came to a point where two
+roads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran across
+the road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda
+stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the
+moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.
+Griselda looked up to the sky.
+
+"To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my way
+in a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side of
+the moon last night."
+
+The remembrance put another thought into her mind.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"
+
+Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in
+her own.
+
+She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the
+well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so
+clear.
+
+Phil clapped his hands.
+
+"He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way.
+That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pulling
+Griselda along, he darted down the road to the right--the direction from
+whence came the cry.
+
+They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction,
+but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss--whenever
+the path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and,
+without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it brought
+them out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate.
+
+"I know the way now, good cuckoo," exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alone
+now, if your aunt will be vexed with you."
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear.
+I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must be
+me, not you."
+
+There was a little bustle about the door of the farm-house as the
+children wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing together
+receiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse was
+talking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants.
+
+"Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to look
+for him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-night
+of all nights, just when your----I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to the
+parlour at once--and this little girl, who is she?"
+
+"She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, putting
+on his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have some
+supper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie's
+house--that's what I say."
+
+More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for she was really
+in a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into the
+parlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry that
+broke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A lady
+was standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quickly
+growing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figure
+she was watching for so anxiously.
+
+The noise of the door opening made her look round.
+
+"Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? You
+didn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?"
+
+"Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms.
+
+But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filled
+her eyes as for a minute or two she listened to the cooings and
+caressings of the mother and son.
+
+Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her.
+
+"Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She's
+the little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has no
+mother," he added in a lower tone.
+
+The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did not
+seem surprised.
+
+"I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her
+face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's.
+
+And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the
+anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once
+to tell of her being safe at the farm.
+
+But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had had
+some nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested.
+
+"And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she asked
+presently.
+
+"I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland,
+and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come,
+and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained
+Phil.
+
+"And _was_ it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.
+
+Griselda shook her head as she replied--
+
+"Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough.
+The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it
+for ourselves, mustn't we?"
+
+She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that _she_
+understood.
+
+"Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly.
+"But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."
+
+Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil
+away, are you?" she whispered.
+
+"No, I have come to stay here," she answered; "and Phil's father is
+coming too, soon. We are going to live at the White House--the house on
+the other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad,
+children?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Griselda had a curious dream that night--merely a dream, nothing else.
+She dreamt that the cuckoo came once more; this time, he told her, to
+say "good-bye."
+
+"For you will not need me now," he said. "I leave you in good hands,
+Griselda. You have friends now who will understand you--friends who will
+help you both to work and to play. Better friends than the mandarins, or
+the butterflies, or even than your faithful old cuckoo."
+
+And when Griselda tried to speak to him, to thank him for his goodness,
+to beg him still sometimes to come to see her, he gently fluttered away.
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo," he warbled; but somehow the last "cuckoo"
+sounded like "good-bye."
+
+In the morning, when Griselda awoke, her pillow was wet with tears.
+Thus many stories end. She was happy, very happy in the thought of her
+kind new friends; but there were tears for the one she felt she had said
+farewell to, even though he was only a cuckoo in a clock.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+
+A LEGEND OF DONEGAL
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Father," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+castle in the lough."
+
+Dermot M'Swyne was a little lad, with blue soft eyes and bright fair
+hair. He was the only son of Brian, the chief of the M'Swynes, and
+people used sometimes to say scornfully that he was a poor puny son to
+come of such a father, for he was not big and burly, as a M'Swyne ought
+to be, but slim and fair, and like a girl. However, Brian M'Swyne loved
+his fair-haired boy, and would have given up most other pleasures in
+the world for the pleasure of having the little fellow by his side and
+listening to his prattling voice. He was like his mother, those said who
+remembered the blue-eyed stranger whom Brian M'Swyne had brought home
+ten years before as his wife to Doe Castle, in Donegal, and who had
+pined there for a few years and then died; and perhaps it was for her
+sake that the child was so dear to the rough old chief. He was never
+tired of having the little lad beside him, and many a time he would
+carry him about and cradle him in his arms, and pass his big fingers
+through the boy's golden curls, and let the little hands play with his
+beard.
+
+Sitting together in the firelight on winter nights, while the peat fire
+was burning on the floor, and the wind, sweeping across Lough Eske, went
+wailing round the castle walls and sighing in the leafless trees, the
+boy would often get his father to tell him stories of the country-side.
+There were many strange legends treasured up in the memories of all old
+inhabitants of the place, wild stories of enchantments, or of fairies or
+banshees; and little Dermot would never tire of listening to these
+tales. Sometimes, when he had heard some only half-finished story, he
+would go dreaming on and on to himself about it, till he had woven an
+ending, or a dozen endings, to it in his own brain.
+
+But of all the tales to which he used to listen there was one that
+perhaps, more than any other, he liked to hear--the story of the
+enchanted castle swallowed up by Lough Belshade. There, down beneath the
+waters of the dark lough, into which he had looked so often, was the
+castle standing still, its gates and towers and walls all perfect, just
+as it had stood upon the earth, the very fires still alight that had
+been burning on its hearths, and--more wonderful than all--the people
+who had been sunk in it, though fixed and motionless in their enchanted
+sleep, alive too. It was a wonder of wonders; the child was never tired
+of thinking of it, and dreaming of the time in which the enchantment
+should be broken, and of the person who should break it; for, strangest
+of all, the story said that they must sleep until a M'Swyne should come
+and wake them. But what M'Swyne would do it? And how was it to be done?
+"Father," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+enchanted castle in the lough."
+
+The legend was thus: On the shores of the desolate lough there had once
+stood a great castle, where lived a beautiful maiden called Eileen. Her
+father was the chieftain of a clan, and she was his only child. Many
+young lovers sought her, but she cared for none of them. At last there
+came to the castle a noble-looking knight. He had traveled from a far
+country, he said, and he began soon to tell wonderful stories to Eileen
+of the beauty and the richness of that land of his; how the skies there
+were always blue, and the sun always shone, and lords and ladies lived,
+not in rough stone-hewn castles like these, but in palaces all bright
+with marbles and precious stones; and how their lives were all a long
+delight, with music and dancing and all pleasant things.
+
+Eileen listened while he told these tales to her, till she began to long
+to see his country; and her heart yearned for something brighter and
+better than the sombre life she led by the shores of the dark lough; and
+so when, after a time, the knight one day told her that he loved her,
+she gave him her promise to go to his home with him and marry him.
+
+She was very contented for a little while after she had promised to be
+the knight's wife, and spent nearly all her time in talking to her lover
+and in picturing to herself the new and beautiful things that she was
+going to see. She was very happy, on the whole; though now and then, to
+tell the truth, as time went on, she began to be a little puzzled and
+surprised by certain things that the knight did, and certain odd habits
+that he had; for, in fact, he had some very odd habits, indeed, and,
+charming and handsome as he was, conducted himself occasionally in
+really quite a singular way.
+
+For instance, it was a curious fact that he never could bear the sight
+of a dog; and if ever one came near him (and as there were a good many
+dogs about the castle, it was quite impossible to keep them from coming
+near him now and then) he would set his teeth, and rise slowly from his
+seat, and begin to make a low hissing noise, craning his neck forward,
+and swelling and rounding his back in such an extraordinary way that the
+first time Eileen saw him doing it she thought he was going to have a
+fit, and was quite alarmed.
+
+"Oh, dear, I--I'm afraid you're ill!" she exclaimed, getting upon her
+feet and feeling very uneasy.
+
+"No, no, it's only--it's only--the dog," gasped the knight, gripping his
+seat with both hands, as if it needed the greatest effort to keep
+himself still. "Hiss--s--s--s! I've such a terrible dislike to dogs.
+It's--it's in my family," said the poor young man; and he could not
+recover his composure at all till the little animal that had disturbed
+him was carried away.
+
+Then he had such a strange fashion of amusing himself in his own room
+where he slept. It was a spacious room, hung all round with arras; and
+often, after the household had gone to bed, those who slept nearest to
+the knight were awakened out of their sleep by the noise he made in
+running up and down, and here and there; scudding about over the floor,
+and even--as far as could be guessed by the sounds--clambering up the
+walls, just as though, instead of being a gracious high-bred young
+gentleman, he had been the veriest tomboy.
+
+"I fear, Sir Knight, you do not always rest easily in your apartment,"
+Eileen's old father said to him one morning after he had been making
+even more disturbance of this sort than usual. "We have rough ways here
+in the North, and perhaps the arrangement of your sleeping quarters is
+not exactly to your liking?"
+
+But the knight, when he began to say this, interrupted him hastily, and
+declared that he had never slept more comfortably in any room in his
+life, or more peacefully, he said; he was seldom conscious of even so
+much as awakening once. Of course, when he said this, Eileen and her
+father could only open their eyes, and come to the conclusion that the
+poor young knight was a somnambulist, and afflicted with the habit of
+running and leaping in his sleep.
+
+Again, too, out-of-doors, it was very odd how it affected him to hear
+the birds sing. Whenever they began their songs, all sorts of nervous
+twitchings would come over him, and he would lick his lips and make
+convulsive movements with his hands; and his attention would become so
+distracted that he would quite lose the thread of his discourse if he
+were talking, or the thread of Eileen's, if she were talking to him. "It
+is because I enjoy hearing them so much," he said once; and of course
+when he said so Eileen could only believe him; yet she could not help
+wishing he would show his pleasure in some other way than this curious
+one of setting his teeth and rolling his eyes, and looking much more as
+if he wanted to eat the birds than to listen to them.
+
+Still, in spite of these and a good many other peculiarities, the young
+knight was very charming, and Eileen was very fond of him. They used to
+spend the happiest days together, wandering about the wild and beautiful
+country, often sitting for hours on the rocky shores of the dark lough,
+looking into the deep still water at their feet. It was a wild,
+romantic, lonely place, shut out from the sunlight by great granite
+cliffs that threw their dark weird shadows over it.
+
+"Do you know there is a prophecy that our castle shall stand one day
+here in the middle of the lough?" Eileen said, laughing, once. "I don't
+know how it is to be done, but we are to be planted somehow in the
+middle of the water. That is what the people say. I shouldn't like to
+live here then. How gloomy it would be to have those great shadows
+always over us!" and the girl shivered a little, and stole her hand into
+her lover's, and they began to talk about the far different place where
+she should live; his beautiful palace, far away in the sunny country
+beyond the sea. She was never weary of hearing about the new place and
+new life that she was going to, and all the beauty and happiness that
+were going to be hers.
+
+So time went on, until at last the day before the marriage-day came.
+Eileen had been showing her lover all her ornaments; she had a great
+number of very precious ones, and, to please him and amuse herself, she
+had been putting them all on, loading herself with armlets, and
+bracelets, and heavy chains of gold, such as the old Irish princesses
+used to wear, till she looked as gorgeous as a princess herself.
+
+It was a sunny summer day, and she sat thinking to herself, "My married
+life will begin so soon now--the new, beautiful, strange life--and I
+will wear these ornaments in the midst of it; but where everything else
+is so lovely, will he think me then as lovely as he does now?"
+
+Presently she glanced up, with a little shyness and a little vanity,
+just to see if he was looking at and thinking of her; but as she lifted
+up her head, instead of finding that his eyes were resting on her, she
+found----
+
+Well, she found that the knight was certainly not thinking of her one
+bit. He was sitting staring fixedly at one corner of the apartment, with
+his lips working in the oddest fashion; twitching this way and that, and
+parting and showing his teeth, while he was clawing with his hands the
+chair on which he sat.
+
+"Dear me!" said Eileen rather sharply and pettishly, "what is the matter
+with you?"
+
+Eileen spoke pretty crossly; for as she had on various previous
+occasions seen the knight conduct himself in this sort of way, her
+feeling was less of alarm at the sight of him than simply of annoyance
+that at this moment, when she herself had been thinking of him so
+tenderly, he could be giving his attention to any other thing. "What is
+the matter with you?" she said; and she raised herself in her chair and
+turned round her head to see if she could perceive anything worth
+looking at in that corner into which the knight was staring almost as if
+the eyes would leap out of his head.
+
+"Why, there's nothing there but a mouse!" she said contemptuously, when
+she had looked and listened for a moment, and heard only a little faint
+scratching behind the tapestry.
+
+"No, no, I believe not; oh, no, nothing but a mouse," replied the knight
+hurriedly; but still he did not take his eyes from the spot, and he
+moved from side to side in his chair, and twitched his head from right
+to left, and looked altogether as if he hardly knew what he was about.
+
+"And I am sure a mouse is a most harmless thing," said Eileen.
+
+"Harmless? Oh! delicious!" replied the knight, with so much unction that
+Eileen, in her turn, opened her eyes and stared. "Delicious! quite
+delicious!" murmured the knight again.
+
+But after a moment or two more, all at once he seemed to recollect
+himself, and made a great effort, and withdrew his eyes from the corner
+where the mouse was still making a little feeble scratching.
+
+"I mean a--a most interesting animal," he said. "I have always felt with
+regard to mice----"
+
+But just at this instant the mouse poked out his little head from
+beneath the tapestry, and the knight leaped to his feet as if he was
+shot.
+
+"Hiss--s--s! skier--r--r! hiss--s--s--s!" he cried; and--could Eileen
+believe her eyes?--for one instant she saw the knight flash past her,
+and then there was nothing living in the room besides her but a great
+black cat clinging by his claws half-way up the arras, and a little
+brown mouse between his teeth.
+
+Of course the only thing that Eileen could do was to faint, and so she
+fainted, and it was six hours before she came to herself again. In the
+mean time nobody in the world knew what had happened; and when she
+opened her eyes and began to cry out about a terrible black cat, they
+all thought she had gone out of her mind.
+
+"My dear child, I assure you there is no such thing in the house as a
+black cat," her father said uneasily to her, trying to soothe her in the
+best way he could.
+
+"Oh, yes, he turned into a black cat," cried Eileen.
+
+"Who turned into a black cat?" asked her father.
+
+"The knight did," sobbed Eileen.
+
+And then the poor old father went out of the room, thinking that his
+daughter was going mad.
+
+"She is quite beside herself; she says that you are not a man, but a
+cat," he said sorrowfully to the young knight, whom he met standing
+outside his daughter's room. "What in the world could have put such
+thoughts into her head? Not a thing will she talk about but black cats."
+
+"Let me see her; I will bring her to her right mind," said the knight.
+
+"I doubt it very much," replied the chief; but as he did not know what
+else to do, he let him go into the room, and the knight went in softly
+and closed the door, and went up to the couch on which Eileen lay. She
+lay with her eyes closed, and with all her gold chains still upon her
+neck and arms; and the knight, because he trod softly, had come quite up
+to her side before she knew that he was there. But the moment she opened
+her eyes and saw him, she gave such a scream that it quite made him
+leap; and if he had not bolted the door every creature in the castle
+would have rushed into the room at the sound of it. Fortunately for him,
+however, he had bolted the door; and as it was a very stout door, made
+of strong oak, Eileen might have screamed for an hour before anybody
+could have burst it open. As soon, therefore, as the knight had
+recovered from the start she gave him, he quietly took a chair and sat
+down by her side.
+
+"Eileen," he said, beginning to speak at once--for probably he felt that
+the matter he had come to mention was rather a painful and a delicate
+one, and the more quickly he could get over what he had to say the
+better--"Eileen, you have unhappily to-day seen me under--ahem!--under
+an unaccustomed shape----"
+
+He had only got so far as this, when Eileen gave another shriek and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+"I say," repeated the knight, in a tone of some annoyance, and raising
+his voice, for Eileen was making such a noise that it was really
+necessary to speak pretty loudly--"I say you have unfortunately seen me
+to-day under a shape that you were not prepared for; but I have come, my
+love, to assure you that the--transformation--was purely accidental--a
+mere blunder of a moment--an occurrence that shall never be repeated in
+your sight. Look up to me again, Eileen, and do not let this eve of our
+marriage-day----"
+
+But what the knight had got to say about the eve of their marriage-day
+Eileen never heard, for as soon as he had reached these words she gave
+another shriek so loud that he jumped upon his seat.
+
+"Do you think that I will ever marry a black cat?" cried Eileen, fixing
+her eyes with a look of horror on his face.
+
+"Eileen, take care!" exclaimed the knight sternly. "Take care how you
+anger me, or it will be the worse for you."
+
+"The worse for me! Do you think I am afraid of you?" said Eileen with
+her eyes all flashing, for she had a high enough spirit, and was not
+going to allow herself to be forced to marry a black cat, let the knight
+say what he would. She rose from her couch and would have sprung to the
+ground, if all at once the knight had not bent forward and taken her by
+her hand.
+
+"Eileen," said the knight, holding her fast and looking into her face,
+"Eileen, will you be my wife?"
+
+"I would sooner die!" cried Eileen.
+
+"Eileen," cried the knight passionately, "I love you! Do not break your
+promise to me. Forget what you have seen. I am a powerful magician. I
+will make you happy. I will give you all you want. Be my wife."
+
+"Never!" cried Eileen.
+
+"Then you have sealed your fate!" exclaimed the knight fiercely; and
+suddenly he rose and extended his arms, and said some strange words that
+Eileen did not understand; and all at once it appeared to her as if some
+thick white pall were spreading over her, and her eyelids began to
+close, and involuntarily she sank back.
+
+Once more, but as if in a dream, she heard the knight's voice.
+
+"If you do not become my wife," he said, "you shall never be the wife of
+any living man. The black cat can hold his own. Sleep here till another
+lover comes to woo you."
+
+A mocking laugh rang through the room--and then Eileen heard no more. It
+seemed to her that her life was passing away. A strange feeling came to
+her, as if she were sinking through the air; there was a sound in her
+ears of rushing water; and then all recollection and all consciousness
+ceased.
+
+Some travelers passing that evening by the lough gazed at the spot on
+which the castle had stood, and rubbed their eyes in wild surprise, for
+there was no castle there, but only a bare tract of desolate, waste
+ground. The prophecy had been fulfilled; the castle had been lifted up
+from its foundation and sunk in the waters of the lough.
+
+This was the story that Dermot used to listen to as he sat in his
+father's hall on winter nights--a wild old story, very strange, and
+sweet too, as well as strange. For they were living still, the legend
+always said--the chief and his household, and beautiful Eileen; not dead
+at all, but only sleeping an enchanted sleep, till some one of the
+M'Swynes should come and kill the black cat who guarded them, and set
+them free. Under those dark, deep waters, asleep for three hundred
+years, lay Eileen, with all her massive ornaments on her neck and arms,
+and red-gold Irish hair. How often did the boy think of her, and picture
+to himself the motionless face, with its closed, waiting eyes, and yearn
+to see it. Asleep there for three hundred years! His heart used to burn
+at the imagination. In all these centuries had no M'Swyne been found
+bold enough to find the black cat and kill him? Could it be so hard a
+thing to kill a black cat? the little fellow thought.
+
+"I'd kill him myself if only I had the chance," he said one day; and
+when he said that his father laughed.
+
+"Ay, my lad, you might kill him if you had the chance--but how would you
+get the chance?" he asked him. "Do you think the magician would be fool
+enough to leave his watch over the lough and put himself in your way?
+Kill him? Yes, we could any of us kill him if we could catch him; but
+three hundred years have passed away and nobody has ever caught him
+yet."
+
+"Well, I may do it some day, when I am grown a man," Dermot said.
+
+So he went on dreaming over the old legend, and weaving out of his own
+brain an ending to it. What if it should be, indeed, his lot to awake
+Eileen from her enchanted sleep? He used to wander often by the shores
+of the dark little lough and gaze into the shadowy waters. Many a time,
+too, he would sail across them, leaning down over his boat's side, to
+try in vain to catch some glimpse of the buried castle's walls or
+towers. Once or twice--it might have been mere fancy--it seemed to him
+as if he saw some dark thing below the surface, and he would cry aloud,
+"The cat! I see the black cat!" But they only laughed at him when he
+returned home and said this. "It was only a big fish at the bottom of
+the water, my boy," his father would reply.
+
+When he was a boy he talked of this story often and was never weary of
+asking questions concerning it; but presently, as he grew older, he grew
+more reserved and shy, and when he spoke about Eileen the color used to
+come into his cheek. "Why, boy, are you falling in love with her?" his
+father said to him one day. "Are there not unbewitched maidens enough to
+please you on the face of the earth, but you must take a fancy to a
+bewitched one lying asleep at the bottom of the lough?" and he laughed
+aloud at him. After that day Dermot never spoke of Eileen in his
+father's hearing. But although he ceased to speak of her, yet only the
+more did he think and dream about her; and the older he grew, the less
+did he seem to care for any of those unbewitched maidens of whom his
+father had talked; and the only maiden of whom he thought with love and
+longing was this one who lay asleep in the enchanted castle in the
+lough.
+
+So the years passed on, and in time Dermot's father died, and the young
+man became chieftain of his clan. He was straight and tall, with blue,
+clear eyes, and a frank, fair face. Some of the M'Swynes, who were a
+rough, burly race, looked scornfully on him and said that he was fitter
+to make love to ladies than to head men on a battle-field; but they
+wronged him when they said that, for no braver soldier than Dermot had
+ever led their clan. He was both brave and gentle too, and courteous,
+and tender, and kind; and as for being only fit to make love to
+ladies--why, making love to ladies was almost the only thing he never
+did.
+
+"Are you not going to bring home a wife to the old house, my son?" said
+his foster-mother, an old woman who had lived with him all her life.
+"Before I die I'd love to dandle a child of yours upon my knee."
+
+But Dermot only shook his head. "My wife, I fear, will be hard to win. I
+may have to wait for her all my days." And then, after a little while,
+when the old woman still went on talking to him, "How can I marry when
+my love has been asleep these three hundred years?"
+
+This was the first time that he had spoken about Eileen for many a day,
+and the old nurse had thought, like everybody else, that he had
+forgotten that old legend and all the foolish fancies of his youth.
+
+She was sitting at her spinning-wheel, but she dropped the thread and
+folded her hands sadly on her knees.
+
+"My son, why think on her that's as good as dead? Even if you could win
+her, would you take a bewitched maiden to be your wife?"
+
+It was a summer's day, and Dermot stood looking far away through the
+sunshine toward where, though he could not see it, the enchanted castle
+lay. He had stood in that same place a thousand times, looking toward
+it, dreaming over the old tale.
+
+For several minutes he made no answer to what the old woman had said;
+then all at once he turned round to her.
+
+"Nurse," he said passionately, "I have adored her for twenty years. Ever
+since I first stood at your knees, and you told me of her, she has been
+the one love of my heart. Unless I can marry her, I will never marry any
+woman in this world." He came to the old woman's side, and though he was
+a full-grown man, he put his arms about her neck. "Nurse, you have a
+keen woman's wit; cannot you help me with it?" he said. "I have wandered
+round the lough by day and night and challenged the magician to come and
+try his power against me, but he does not hear me, or he will not come.
+How can I reach him through those dark, cruel waters and force him to
+come out of them and fight with me?"
+
+"Foolish lad!" the old woman said. She was a wise old woman, but she
+believed as much as everybody else did in the legend of the castle in
+the lough. "What has he to gain that he need come up and fight with you?
+Do you think the black cat's such a fool as to heed your ranting and
+your challenging?"
+
+"But what else can I do?"
+
+The old woman took her thread into her hands again, and sat spinning for
+two or three minutes without answering a word. She was a sensible old
+woman, and it seemed to her a sad pity that a fine young man like her
+foster-son should waste his life in pining for the love of a maiden who
+had lain asleep and enchanted for three hundred years. Yet the nurse
+loved him so dearly that she could not bear to cross him in anything, or
+to refuse to do anything that he asked. So she sat spinning and thinking
+for a little while, and then said:
+
+"It was a mouse that made him show himself in his own shape first, and
+it's few mice he can be catching, I guess, down in the bottom of the
+lough. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you half a dozen mice in a
+bag tomorrow, and you can let them loose when you get to the water side,
+and see if that will bring him up."
+
+Well, Dermot did not think very much of this plan; but still, as he had
+asked the old woman to help him, he felt that he could not avoid taking
+her advice, and so the next morning his nurse gave him a bag with half a
+dozen mice in it, and he carried it with him to the lough. But, alas! as
+soon as ever he had opened the bag, all the six mice rushed away like
+lightning and were out of sight in a moment.
+
+"That chance is soon ended," Dermot said mournfully to himself; so he
+took back the empty bag to his nurse, and told her what had happened.
+
+"You goose, why didn't you let them out one by one?" inquired she.
+"Sure they would run when you opened the bag. You should have made play
+with them."
+
+"To be sure, so I should; but I never thought of that. I'll do better
+next time."
+
+So next day the woman brought him the bag again, filled this time with
+fat rats, and he took it to the lough, and laid it down at the water
+side, and opened the mouth of it just wide enough for one of the rats to
+put out his nose; and then he sat and watched, and watched, letting the
+rats run away one by one; but though he sat watching for the whole day,
+not a sign did he ever see of the black cat. At last he came
+disconsolately home again with the empty bag on his shoulder.
+
+"Never mind, my son, we'll try something else to-morrow," said nurse
+cheerfully. So next morning she brought him a fishing-rod, and a large
+piece of toasted cheese. "Take this to the lough and bait your hook with
+it," she said, "and see if the black cat won't come up and take a bite.
+All cats like cheese."
+
+Dermot went immediately to the lough, baited his hook, and threw the
+line out into the water. After a few minutes his heart gave a great
+jump, for he felt a sudden pull at the line. He drew it in softly and
+cautiously; but when he got it to the water's edge there was nothing on
+his hook but a large flat fish--and the toasted cheese had all broken
+away and was gone.
+
+"What a foolish old woman, to give me toasted cheese to put into water!"
+he said to himself; then he heaved a sigh, threw the fish into his bag,
+and once more went sadly away.
+
+"I dare say the villain of a cat has breakfasted nicely off the toasted
+cheese without the trouble of coming for it," he said bitterly, when he
+got home.
+
+"Never mind; we'll maybe have better luck to-morrow," replied the nurse.
+"I dreamed a dream, and in the dream I thought of something else to do."
+
+So early next morning she brought a fat black pig.
+
+"What in the world am I to do with this?" said Dermot sharply.
+
+"Ah, now, be easy, my dear," said the old woman coaxingly. "Just take it
+down to the lough and roast it there, and sure when the cat smells the
+fine smell of it he'll come up for a taste."
+
+Now Dermot was getting rather tired of doing all these odd things; and
+though he had readily gone to the lough with the mice and the rats and
+the toasted cheese, yet he did not at all relish the notion of carrying
+a live pig across the country with him for two or three miles. However,
+he was very good-natured, and so, although he did not himself think that
+any good would come of it, after a little while he let his nurse
+persuade him to take the pig. The old woman tied a string about its leg,
+and he took it to the lough, and as soon as he got there he collected
+some sticks and peat together and, building up a good big pile, set
+light to it. Then he killed the pig with his hunting-knife and hung it
+up before the fire to roast. Presently a most savory smell began to
+fill the air.
+
+Dermot withdrew a little way, sat down behind a jutting piece of rock,
+and watched, his eyes never leaving the smooth surface of the lough; but
+minute after minute passed and not the slightest movement stirred it.
+From time to time he made up his fire afresh, and turned his pig from
+side to side. The whole air around grew full of the smell of roasting
+meat, so savory that, being hungry, it made Dermot's own mouth water;
+but still--there lay the lough, quiet and smooth, and undisturbed as
+glass, with only the dark shadows of the silent rocks lying across it.
+
+At last the pig was cooked and ready, and Dermot rose and drew it from
+the fire.
+
+"I may as well make my own dinner off it," he thought sorrowfully to
+himself, "for nobody else will come to have a share of it." So he took
+his knife and cut himself a juicy slice, and sat down again, concealing
+himself behind the rock, with his bow and arrow by his side, and had
+just lifted the first morsel to his lips, when--
+
+Down fell the untasted meat upon the ground, and his heart leaped to his
+lips, for surely something at last was stirring the waters! The oily
+surface had broken into circles; there was a movement, a little splash,
+a sudden vision of something black. A moment or two he sat breathlessly
+gazing; and then--was he asleep, or was he waking, and really saw
+it?--he saw above the water a black cat's head. Black head, black paws
+put out to swim, black back, black tail.
+
+Dermot took his bow up in his hand, and tried to fit an arrow to it; but
+his hand shook, and for a few moments he could not draw. Slowly the
+creature swam to the water's edge, and, reaching it, planted its feet
+upon the earth, and looked warily, with green, watchful eye, all round;
+then, shaking itself--and the water seemed to glide off its black fur as
+off a duck's back--it licked its lips, and, giving one great sweep into
+the air, it bounded forward to where the roasted pig was smoking on the
+ground. For a moment Dermot saw it, with its tail high in the air and
+its tongue stretched out to lick the crackling; and then, sharp and
+sure, whiz! went an arrow from his bow; and the next moment, stretched
+flat upon the ground, after one great dismal howl, lay the man-cat, or
+cat-man, with an arrow in his heart.
+
+Dermot sprang to his feet, and, rushing to the creature's side, caught
+him by the throat; but he was dead already; only the great, wide-opened,
+green, fierce eyes seemed to shoot out an almost human look of hatred
+and despair, before they closed forever. The young chieftain took up the
+beast, looked at it, and with all his might flung it from him into the
+lough; then turning round, he stretched his arms out passionately.
+
+"Eileen! Eileen!" he cried aloud; and as though that word had broken the
+spell, all at once--oh, wonderful sight!--the enchanted castle began to
+rise. Higher it rose and higher; one little turret first; then
+pinnacles and tower and roof; then strong stone walls; until, complete,
+it stood upon the surface of the lough like a strange floating ship. And
+then slowly and gently it drifted to the shore and, rising at the
+water's edge, glided a little through the air, and sank at last upon the
+earth, fixing itself firmly down once more where it had stood of old, as
+if its foundations never had been stirred through the whole of those
+three hundred years.
+
+With his heart beating fast, Dermot stood gazing as if he could never
+cease to gaze. It was a lovely summer day, and all the landscape round
+him was bathed in sunlight. The radiance shone all over the gray castle
+walls and made each leaf on every tree a golden glory. It shone on
+bright flowers blooming in the castle garden; it shone on human figures
+that began to live and move. Breathless and motionless, Dermot watched
+them. He was not close to them, but near enough to see them in their
+strange quaint dresses, passing to and fro, like figures that had
+started from some painted picture of a by-gone age. The place grew full
+of them. They poured out from the castle gates; they gathered into
+groups; they spread themselves abroad; they streamed out from the castle
+right and left. Did they know that they had been asleep? Apparently not,
+for each man went on with his natural occupation, as if he had but
+paused over it a minute to take breath. A hum of voices filled the air;
+Dermot heard strange accents, almost like those of an unknown tongue,
+mingled with the sound of laughter. Three hundred years had passed away,
+and yet they did not seem to know it; busily they went about their
+sports or labors--as calmly and unconsciously as if they never had been
+interrupted for an hour.
+
+And, in the midst of all, where was Eileen? The young chieftain stood
+looking at the strange scene before him, with his heart beating high and
+fast. He had killed the cat, he had broken the enchantment, he had
+awakened the castle from its sleep, but what was to come next? Did the
+prophecy, which said that a M'Swyne should do this, say also that, for
+doing it, he should be given a reward?
+
+Nay, it said nothing more. The rest was all a blank. But was there,
+then, to be no reward for him? Dermot stood suddenly erect and crushed
+down a certain faintness that had been rising in his heart. The
+prophecy, indeed, said nothing, but he would carve out the rest of his
+destiny for himself.
+
+And so he carved it out. He went straight through the unknown people to
+the castle garden and found--was it what he sought? He found a lady
+gathering flowers--a lady in a rich dress, with golden armlets,
+bracelets, and head-ornaments--such as are now only discovered in tombs.
+But she was not dead; she was alive and young. For she turned round,
+and, after his life's patient waiting, Dermot saw Eileen's face.
+
+And then--what more? Well, need I tell the rest? What ending could the
+story have but one? Of course he made her love him, and they married,
+and lived, and died. That was the whole. They were probably happy--I do
+not know. You may see the little lough still in that wild country of
+Donegal, and the deep dark waters that hid the enchanted castle beneath
+them for so many years. As for the castle itself--that, I think, has
+crumbled away; and the whole story is only a story legend--one of the
+pretty, foolish legends of the old times.
+
+
+THE END
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation, as well as unusual words, have
+been retained as they appear in the original publication.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+***** This file should be named 28619-8.txt or 28619-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/1/28619/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  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
+https://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 https://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
+https://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 https://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 https://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 including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was 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:
+
+     https://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.
diff --git a/28619-8.zip b/28619-8.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c50542d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-8.zip
diff --git a/28619-h.zip b/28619-h.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2fcd8f2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h.zip
diff --git a/28619-h/28619-h.htm b/28619-h/28619-h.htm
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..299f2e0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/28619-h.htm
@@ -0,0 +1,6159 @@
+<!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" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+    </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-right: auto; margin-left: auto;}
+td {text-align: left;}
+td.tdr {text-align: right;}
+th {text-align: center;}
+
+.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;}
+
+.right    {text-align: right;}
+
+.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
+
+.caption  {font-weight: bold; font-variant: small-caps;}
+
+/* Images */
+.figcenter   {
+    margin: auto;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+.figleft {
+    float: left;
+    clear: left;
+    margin-left: 0;
+    margin-bottom: 1em;
+    margin-top: 1em;
+    margin-right: 1em;
+    padding: 0;
+    text-align: center;
+}
+
+
+/* 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;
+}
+
+.poem span.i4 {
+    display: block;
+    margin-left: 4em;
+    padding-left: 3em;
+    text-indent: -3em;
+}
+
+.tn {width: 28em; margin: 5em auto 5em auto; text-align: center;}
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cuckoo Clock
+
+Author: Mrs. Molesworth
+
+Illustrator: Maria L. Kirk
+
+Release Date: April 27, 2009 [EBook #28619]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 1 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/cover.jpg"><img src="images/cover-thumb.jpg" width="204" height="300" alt="cover" title="" />
+</a>
+</div>
+<div>
+<h1>THE CUCKOO CLOCK</h1>
+<br />
+<br />
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">sixth impression</span></p>
+<p><!-- Page 2 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>"Stories All Children Love"</h2>
+
+<p style="text-align: center">A SET OF CHILDREN'S CLASSICS THAT SHOULD BE<br />
+IN EVERY WINTER HOME AND SUMMER COTTAGE</p>
+
+<p style="text-align: center">
+Cornelli<br />
+<span class="smcap">By JOHANNA SPYRI</span><br />
+Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK<br />
+<br />
+A Child's Garden of Verses<br />
+<span class="smcap">By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</span><br />
+<br />
+The Little Lame Prince &amp; <span class="smcap">other stories</span><br />
+<span class="smcap">By MISS MULOCK</span><br />
+<br />
+Gulliver's Travels<br />
+<span class="smcap">By JONATHAN SWIFT</span><br />
+<br />
+The Water Babies<br />
+<span class="smcap">By CHARLES KINGSLEY</span><br />
+<br />
+Pinocchio<br />
+<span class="smcap">By C. COLLODI</span><br />
+<br />
+Robinson Crusoe<br />
+<span class="smcap">By DANIEL DEFOE</span><br />
+<br />
+Heidi <span class="smcap">By JOHANNA SPYRI</span><br />
+Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK<br />
+<br />
+The Cuckoo Clock<br />
+<span class="smcap">By MRS. MOLESWORTH</span><br />
+<br />
+The Swiss Family Robinson<br />
+<span class="smcap">Edited by G. E. MITTON</span><br />
+<br />
+The Princess and Curdie<br />
+<span class="smcap">By GEORGE MACDONALD</span><br />
+<br />
+The Princess and the Goblin<br />
+<span class="smcap">By GEORGE MACDONALD</span><br />
+<br />
+At the Back of the North Wind<br />
+<span class="smcap">By GEORGE MACDONALD</span><br />
+<br />
+A Dog of Flanders <span class="smcap">By "OUIDA"</span><br />
+<br />
+Bimbi <span class="smcap">By "OUIDA"</span><br />
+<br />
+Mopsa, the Fairy <span class="smcap">By JEAN INGELOW</span><br />
+<br />
+The Chronicles of Fairyland<br />
+<span class="smcap">By FERGUS HUME</span><br />
+<br />
+Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales<br />
+<br />
+<i>Each Volume Beautifully Illustrated in Color.</i><br />
+<i>Decorated Cloth. Other Books in This Set are in Preparation.</i>
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div><!-- Page 3 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span><br />
+<!-- Page 4 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
+<br />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus004.jpg"><img src="images/illus004-thumb.jpg" width="222" height="300" alt="A LITTLE GIRL DANCED INTO THE ROOM" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption"><a href="#frontis">a little girl danced into the room</a></span>
+</div>
+<!-- Page 5 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h1>
+THE CUCKOO<br />
+CLOCK
+</h1>
+<br />
+<h4>BY</h4>
+<h2>MRS. MOLESWORTH</h2>
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<br />
+<h4><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY</i></h4>
+<h2>MARIA L. KIRK</h2>
+<br />
+<br />
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus005.png" width="500" height="257" alt="" title="" />
+</div><br />
+<br />
+<p style="text-align: center;">PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON<br />
+J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br />
+</p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<!-- Page 6 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+<br />
+<!-- Page 7 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
+
+<p style="text-align: center;">
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br />
+<br />
+PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br />
+AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS<br />
+PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.<br />
+</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h4>To</h4>
+
+<h3>MARY JOSEPHINE</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">and to the dear memory of her brother</span></p>
+
+<h3>THOMAS GRINDAL</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">both friendly little critics of my children's stories</span></p>
+<br />
+
+<p><i>Edinburgh, 1877</i></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><!-- Page 8 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+<p><!-- Page 9 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><br />
+<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<h3>THE CUCKOO CLOCK</h3>
+<br />
+
+<p>
+<a href="#I">I. <span class="smcap">The Old House</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#II">II. <span class="smcap"><i>Im</i>patient Griselda</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#III">III. <span class="smcap">Obeying Orders</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#IV">IV. <span class="smcap">The Country of the Nodding Mandarins</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#V">V. <span class="smcap">Pictures</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#VI">VI. <span class="smcap">Rubbed the Wrong Way</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#VII">VII. <span class="smcap">Butterfly-Land</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#VIII">VIII. <span class="smcap">Master Phil</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#IX">IX. <span class="smcap">Up and Down the Chimney</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#X">X. <span class="smcap">The Other Side of the Moon</span></a>
+<br />
+<a href="#XI">XI. <span class="smcap">"Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Good-bye!"</span></a>
+</p>
+<br />
+
+<!-- Page 10 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
+<br />
+<!-- Page 11 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+<p>
+<a href="#Page_3">A Little Girl Danced Into the Room</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_21">"Have You Got a Cuckoo in a Cage?"</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_55">She Could Not Help Very Softly Clapping Her Hands</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_77">"Are You Comfortable?" Inquired the Cuckoo</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_91">He Flapped His Wings, And Instantly a Palanquin
+Appeared at the Foot of the Steps</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_163">She Peered in with Great Satisfaction</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_189">"But I May See You Again," Said Phil</a><br />
+<a href="#Page_239">It Was Rowed by a Little Figure</a><br />
+</p>
+
+<!-- Page 12 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now, these little folks, like most girls and boys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Loved fairy tales even better than toys.<br /></span>
+<span class="i7">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;*<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And they knew that in flowers on the spray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Tiny spirits are hidden away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That frisk at night on the forest green,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When earth is bathed in dewy sheen&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shining halls of pearl and gem,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Regions of Fancy&mdash;were open to them."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"... just as any little child has been guided towards the true
+paradise by its fairy dreams of bliss."&mdash;<span class="smcap">E. A. Abbott.</span></p></div>
+</div>
+<!-- Page 13 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+</div>
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I<br />
+THE OLD HOUSE</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus013a.png" width="700" height="340" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Somewhat back from the village street<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stands the old-fashioned country seat."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/o.png" width="190" height="200" alt="O" title="" />
+</div><p>nce upon a time in an old town, in an old street, there stood a very
+old house. Such a house as you could hardly find nowadays, however you
+searched, for it belonged to a gone-by time&mdash;a time now quite passed
+away.</p>
+
+<p>It stood in a street, but yet it was not like a town house, for though
+the front opened right on to the pavement, the back windows looked out
+upon a beautiful, quaintly terraced <!-- Page 14 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>garden, with old trees growing so
+thick and close together that in summer it was like living on the edge
+of a forest to be near them; and even in winter the web of their
+interlaced branches hid all clear view behind.</p>
+
+<p>There was a colony of rooks in this old garden. Year after year they
+held their parliaments and cawed and chattered and fussed; year after
+year they built their nests and hatched their eggs; year after year, I
+<i>suppose</i>, the old ones gradually died off and the young ones took their
+place, though, but for knowing this <i>must</i> be so, no one would have
+suspected it, for to all appearance the rooks were always the same&mdash;ever
+and always the same.</p>
+
+<p>Time indeed seemed to stand still in and all about the old house, as if
+it and the people who inhabited it had got <i>so</i> old that they could not
+get any older, and had outlived the possibility of change.</p>
+
+<p>But one day at last there did come a change. Late in the dusk of an
+autumn afternoon a carriage drove up to the door of<!-- Page 15 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> the old house, came
+rattling over the stones with a sudden noisy clatter that sounded quite
+impertinent, startling the rooks just as they were composing themselves
+to rest, and setting them all wondering what could be the matter.</p>
+
+<p>A little girl was the matter! A little girl in a grey merino frock, and
+grey beaver bonnet, grey tippet and grey gloves&mdash;all grey together, even
+to her eyes, all except her round rosy face and bright brown hair. Her
+name even was rather grey, for it was Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>A gentleman lifted her out of the carriage and disappeared with her into
+the house, and later that same evening the gentleman came out of the
+house and got into the carriage which had come back for him again, and
+drove away. That was all that the rooks saw of the change that had come
+to the old house. Shall we go inside to see more?</p>
+
+<p>Up the shallow, wide, old-fashioned staircase, past the wainscoted
+walls, dark and shining like a mirror, down a long narrow<!-- Page 16 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> passage with
+many doors, which but for their gleaming brass handles one would not
+have known were there, the oldest of the three old servants led little
+Griselda, so tired and sleepy that her supper had been left almost
+untasted, to the room prepared for her. It was a queer room, for
+everything in the house was queer; but in the dancing light of the fire
+burning brightly in the tiled grate, it looked cheerful enough.</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad there's a fire," said the child. "Will it keep alight till
+the morning, do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>The old servant shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twould not be safe to leave it so that it would burn till morning,"
+she said. "When you are in bed and asleep, little missie, you won't want
+the fire. Bed's the warmest place."</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't for that I want it," said Griselda; "it's for the light I like
+it. This house all looks so dark to me, and yet there seem to be lights
+hidden in the walls too, they shine so."
+<!-- Page 17 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The old servant smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"It will all seem strange to you, no doubt," she said; "but you'll get
+to like it, missie. 'Tis a <i>good</i> old house, and those that know best
+love it well."</p>
+
+<p>"Whom do you mean?" said Griselda. "Do you mean my great-aunts?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, and others beside," replied the old woman. "The rooks love it
+well, and others beside. Did you ever hear tell of the 'good people,'
+missie, over the sea where you come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"Fairies, do you mean?" cried Griselda, her eyes sparkling. "Of course
+I've <i>heard</i> of them, but I never saw any. Did you ever?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't say," answered the old woman. "My mind is not young like
+yours, missie, and there are times when strange memories come back to me
+as of sights and sounds in a dream. I am too old to see and hear as I
+once could. We are all old here, missie. 'Twas time something young came
+to the old house again."
+<!-- Page 18 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"How strange and queer everything seems!" thought Griselda, as she got
+into bed. "I don't feel as if I belonged to it a bit. And they are all
+<i>so</i> old; perhaps they won't like having a child among them?"</p>
+
+<p>The very same thought that had occurred to the rooks! They could not
+decide as to the fors and againsts at all, so they settled to put it to
+the vote the next morning, and in the meantime they and Griselda all
+went to sleep.</p>
+
+<p>I never heard if <i>they</i> slept well that night; after such unusual
+excitement it was hardly to be expected they would. But Griselda, being
+a little girl and not a rook, was so tired that two minutes after she
+had tucked herself up in bed she was quite sound asleep, and did not
+wake for several hours.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what it will all look like in the morning," was her last
+waking thought. "If it was summer now, or spring, I shouldn't
+mind&mdash;there would always be something nice to do then."
+<!-- Page 19 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>As sometimes happens, when she woke again, very early in the morning,
+long before it was light, her thoughts went straight on with the same
+subject.</p>
+
+<p>"If it was summer now, or spring," she repeated to herself, just as if
+she had not been asleep at all&mdash;like the man who fell into a trance for
+a hundred years just as he was saying "it is bitt&mdash;" and when he woke up
+again finished the sentence as if nothing had happened&mdash;"erly cold." "If
+only it was spring," thought Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>Just as she had got so far in her thoughts, she gave a great start. What
+was it she heard? Could her wish have come true? Was this fairyland
+indeed that she had got to, where one only needs to <i>wish</i>, for it to
+<i>be</i>? She rubbed her eyes, but it was too dark to see; <i>that</i> was not
+very fairyland like, but her ears she felt certain had not deceived her:
+she was quite, quite sure that she had heard the cuckoo!</p>
+
+<p>She listened with all her might, but she<!-- Page 20 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> did not hear it again. Could
+it, after all, have been fancy? She grew sleepy at last, and was just
+dropping off when&mdash;yes, there it was again, as clear and distinct as
+possible&mdash;"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!" three, four, <i>five</i> times, then
+perfect silence as before.</p>
+
+<p>"What a funny cuckoo," said Griselda to herself. "I could almost fancy
+it was in the house. I wonder if my great-aunts have a tame cuckoo in a
+cage? I don't <i>think</i> I ever heard of such a thing, but this is such a
+queer house; everything seems different in it&mdash;perhaps they have a tame
+cuckoo. I'll ask them in the morning. It's very nice to hear, whatever
+it is."
+
+<!-- Page 21 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus021.jpg"><img src="images/illus021-thumb.jpg" width="219" height="300"
+alt="&quot;HAVE YOU GOT A CUCKOO IN A CAGE?&quot;" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">&quot;have you got a cuckoo in a cage?&quot;</span>
+<!-- Page 22 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><br /></div>
+<p><!-- Page 23 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
+And, with a pleasant feeling of companionship, a sense that she was not
+the only living creature awake in this dark world, Griselda lay
+listening, contentedly enough, for the sweet, fresh notes of the
+cuckoo's friendly greeting. But before it sounded again through the
+silent house she was once more fast asleep. And this time she slept till
+daylight had found its way into all but the <i>very</i> darkest nooks
+and crannies of the ancient dwelling.</p>
+
+<p>She dressed herself carefully, for she had been warned that her aunts
+loved neatness and precision; she fastened each button of her grey
+frock, and tied down her hair as smooth as such a brown tangle <i>could</i>
+be tied down; and, absorbed with these weighty cares, she forgot all
+about the cuckoo for the time. It was not till she was sitting at
+breakfast with her aunts that she remembered it, or rather was reminded
+of it, by some little remark that was made about the friendly robins on
+the terrace walk outside.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, aunt," she exclaimed, stopping short half-way the journey to her
+mouth of a spoonful of bread and milk, "have you got a cuckoo in a
+cage?"</p>
+
+<p>"A cuckoo in a cage," repeated her elder aunt, Miss Grizzel; "what is
+the child talking about?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 24 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
+"In a cage!" echoed Miss Tabitha, "a cuckoo in a cage!"</p>
+
+<p>"There is a cuckoo somewhere in the house," said Griselda; "I heard it
+in the night. It couldn't have been out-of-doors, could it? It would be
+too cold."</p>
+
+<p>The aunts looked at each other with a little smile. "So like her
+grandmother," they whispered. Then said Miss Grizzel&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"We have a cuckoo, my dear, though it isn't in a cage, and it isn't
+exactly the sort of cuckoo you are thinking of. It lives in a clock."</p>
+
+<p>"In a clock," repeated Miss Tabitha, as if to confirm her sister's
+statement.</p>
+
+<p>"In a clock!" exclaimed Griselda, opening her grey eyes very wide.</p>
+
+<p>It sounded something like the three bears, all speaking one after the
+other, only Griselda's voice was not like Tiny's; it was the loudest of
+the three.</p>
+
+<p>"In a clock!" she exclaimed; "but it can't be alive, then?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 25 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+"Why not?" said Miss Grizzel.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied Griselda, looking puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"I knew a little girl once," pursued Miss Grizzel, "who was quite of
+opinion the cuckoo <i>was</i> alive, and nothing would have persuaded her it
+was not. Finish your breakfast, my dear, and then if you like you shall
+come with me and see the cuckoo for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, going on with her bread and
+milk.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Tabitha, "you shall see the cuckoo for yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Aunt Tabitha," said Griselda. It was rather a bother to have
+always to say "thank you," or "no, thank you," twice, but Griselda
+thought it was polite to do so, as Aunt Tabitha always repeated
+everything that Aunt Grizzel said. It wouldn't have mattered so much if
+Aunt Tabitha had said it <i>at once</i> after Miss Grizzel, but as she
+generally made a little pause between, it was sometimes rather awkward.
+<!-- Page 26 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>But of course it was better to say "thank you" or "no, thank you" twice
+over than to hurt Aunt Tabitha's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast Aunt Grizzel was as good as her word. She took Griselda
+through several of the rooms in the house, pointing out all the
+curiosities, and telling all the histories of the rooms and their
+contents; and Griselda liked to listen, only in every room they came to,
+she wondered <i>when</i> they would get to the room where lived the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Tabitha did not come with them, for she was rather rheumatic. On
+the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a <i>very</i>
+long time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and
+possibly, if Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the
+"thank you's" or "no, thank you's" twice over.</p>
+
+<p>The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had
+seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for<!-- Page 27 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> the view from the
+windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of everything.</p>
+
+<p>"We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching
+sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is a
+very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is
+winter, or nearly winter."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel looked pleased.</p>
+
+<p>"My pot-pourri," she explained.</p>
+
+<p>They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a
+handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must once
+have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling of awe
+had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient drawing-room. What
+grand parties there must have been in it long ago! But as for dancing in
+it <i>now</i>&mdash;dancing, or laughing, or chattering&mdash;such a thing was quite
+impossible to imagine!</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 28 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
+Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a marvellous
+Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was made in the
+shape of a temple, or a palace&mdash;Griselda was not sure which. Any way, it
+was very delicious and wonderful. At the door stood, one on each side,
+two solemn mandarins; or, to speak more correctly, perhaps I should say,
+a mandarin and his wife, for the right-hand figure was evidently
+intended to be a lady.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel gently touched their heads. Forthwith, to Griselda's
+astonishment, they began solemnly to nod.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, how do you make them do that, Aunt Grizzel?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Never you mind, my dear; it wouldn't do for <i>you</i> to try to make them
+nod. They wouldn't like it," replied Miss Grizzel mysteriously. "Respect
+to your elders, my dear, always remember that. The mandarins are <i>many</i>
+years older than you&mdash;older than I myself, in fact."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 29 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
+Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took
+such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching
+a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the cabinet. "You may
+smell it, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing loth, Griselda buried her round little nose in the fragrant
+leaves.</p>
+
+<p>"It's lovely," she said. "May I smell it whenever I like, Aunt Grizzel?"</p>
+
+<p>"We shall see," replied her aunt. "It isn't <i>every</i> little girl, you
+know, that we could trust to come into the great saloon alone."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda meekly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel led the way to a door opposite to that by which they had
+entered. She opened it and passed through, Griselda following, into a
+small ante-room.</p>
+
+<p>"It is on the stroke of ten," said Miss Grizzel, consulting her watch;
+"now, my dear, you shall make acquaintance with our cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 30 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+The cuckoo "that lived in a clock!" Griselda gazed round her eagerly.
+Where was the clock? She could see nothing in the least like one, only
+up on the wall in one corner was what looked like a miniature house, of
+dark brown carved wood. It was not so <i>very</i> like a house, but it
+certainly had a roof&mdash;a roof with deep projecting eaves; and, looking
+closer, yes, it <i>was</i> a clock, after all, only the figures, which had
+once been gilt, had grown dim with age, like everything else, and the
+hands at a little distance were hardly to be distinguished from the
+face.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel stood perfectly still, looking up at the clock; Griselda
+beside her, in breathless expectation. Presently there came a sort of
+distant rumbling. <i>Something</i> was going to happen. Suddenly two little
+doors above the clock face, which Griselda had not known were there,
+sprang open with a burst and out flew a cuckoo, flapped his wings, and
+uttered his pretty cry, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" Miss Grizzel counted
+aloud,<!-- Page 31 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> "Seven, eight, nine, ten." "Yes, he never makes a mistake," she
+added triumphantly. "All these long years I have never known him wrong.
+There are no such clocks made nowadays, I can assure you, my dear."</p>
+
+<p>"But <i>is</i> it a clock? Isn't he alive?" exclaimed Griselda. "He looked at
+me and nodded his head, before he flapped his wings and went in to his
+house again&mdash;he did indeed, aunt," she said earnestly; "just like
+saying, 'How do you do?' to me."</p>
+
+<p>Again Miss Grizzel smiled, the same odd yet pleased smile that Griselda
+had seen on her face at breakfast. "Just what Sybilla used to say," she
+murmured. "Well, my dear," she added aloud, "it is quite right he
+<i>should</i> say, 'How do you do?' to you. It is the first time he has seen
+<i>you</i>, though many a year ago he knew your dear grandmother, and your
+father, too, when he was a little boy. You will find him a good friend,
+and one that can teach you many lessons."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 32 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"What, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, looking puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"Punctuality, for one thing, and faithful discharge of duty," replied
+Miss Grizzel.</p>
+
+<p>"May I come to see the cuckoo&mdash;to watch for him coming out, sometimes?"
+asked Griselda, who felt as if she could spend all day looking up at the
+clock, watching for her little friend's appearance.</p>
+
+<p>"You will see him several times a day," said her aunt, "for it is in
+this little room I intend you to prepare your tasks. It is nice and
+quiet, and nothing to disturb you, and close to the room where your Aunt
+Tabitha and I usually sit."</p>
+
+<p>So saying, Miss Grizzel opened a second door in the little ante-room,
+and, to Griselda's surprise, at the foot of a short flight of stairs
+through another door, half open, she caught sight of her Aunt Tabitha,
+knitting quietly by the fire, in the room in which they had breakfasted.</p>
+
+<p>"What a <i>very</i> funny house it is, Aunt <!-- Page 33 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>Grizzel," she said, as she
+followed her aunt down the steps. "Every room has so many doors, and you
+come back to where you were just when you think you are ever so far off.
+I shall never be able to find my way about."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, you will, my dear, very soon," said her aunt encouragingly.</p>
+
+<p>"She is very kind," thought Griselda; "but I wish she wouldn't call my
+lessons tasks. It makes them sound so dreadfully hard. But, any way, I'm
+glad I'm to do them in the room where that dear cuckoo lives."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus033.png" width="276" height="300" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><!-- Page 34 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II<br />
+<i>IM</i>PATIENT GRISELDA</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus034a.png" width="700" height="327" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"... fairies but seldom appear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If we do wrong we must expect<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That it will cost us dear!"<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/i.png" width="197" height="200" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was all very well for a few days. Griselda found plenty to amuse
+herself with while the novelty lasted, enough to prevent her missing
+<i>very</i> badly the home she had left "over the sea," and the troop of
+noisy merry brothers who teased and petted her. Of course she <i>missed</i>
+them, but not "dreadfully." She was neither homesick nor "dull."</p>
+
+<p>It was not quite such smooth sailing when<!-- Page 35 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> lessons began. She did not
+dislike lessons; in fact, she had always thought she was rather fond of
+them. But the having to do them alone was not lively, and her teachers
+were very strict. The worst of all was the writing and arithmetic
+master, a funny little old man who wore knee-breeches and took snuff,
+and called her aunt "Madame," bowing formally whenever he addressed her.
+He screwed Griselda up into such an unnatural attitude to write her
+copies, that she really felt as if she would never come straight and
+loose again; and the arithmetic part of his instructions was even worse.
+Oh! what sums in addition he gave her! Griselda had never been partial
+to sums, and her rather easy-going governess at home had not, to tell
+the truth, been partial to them either. And Mr.&mdash;I can't remember the
+little old gentleman's name. Suppose we call him Mr. Kneebreeches&mdash;Mr.
+Kneebreeches, when he found this out, conscientiously put her back to
+the very beginning.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 36 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>It was dreadful, really. He came twice a week, and the days he didn't
+come were as bad as those he did, for he left her a whole <i>row</i>, I was
+going to say, but you couldn't call Mr. Kneebreeches' addition sums
+"rows," they were far too fat and wide across to be so spoken of!&mdash;whole
+slatefuls of these terrible mountains of figures to climb wearily to the
+top of. And not to climb <i>once</i> up merely. <i>The</i> terrible thing was Mr.
+Kneebreeches' favourite method of what he called "proving." I can't
+explain it&mdash;it is far beyond my poor powers&mdash;but it had something to do
+with cutting off the top line, after you had added it all up and had
+actually done the sum, you understand&mdash;cutting off the top line and
+adding the long rows up again without it, and then joining it on again
+somewhere else.</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't mind so much," said poor Griselda, one day, "if it was any
+good. But you see, Aunt Grizzel, it isn't. For I'm just as likely to do
+the <i>proving</i> wrong as the sum<!-- Page 37 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> itself&mdash;more likely, for I'm always so
+tired when I get to the proving&mdash;and so all that's proved is that
+<i>something's</i> wrong, and I'm sure that isn't any good, except to make me
+cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said her aunt gravely. "That is not the way for a little girl to
+speak. Improve these golden hours of youth, Griselda; they will never
+return."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope not," muttered Griselda, "if it means doing sums."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel fortunately was a little deaf; she did not hear this
+remark. Just then the cuckoo clock struck eleven.</p>
+
+<p>"Good little cuckoo," said Miss Grizzel. "What an example he sets you.
+His life is spent in the faithful discharge of duty;" and so saying she
+left the room.</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo was still telling the hour&mdash;eleven took a good while. It
+seemed to Griselda that the bird repeated her aunt's last words.
+"Faith&mdash;ful, dis&mdash;charge, of&mdash;your, du&mdash;ty," he said, "faith&mdash;ful."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 38 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>"You horrid little creature!" exclaimed Griselda in a passion; "what
+business have you to mock me?"</p>
+
+<p>She seized a book, the first that came to hand, and flung it at the bird
+who was just beginning his eleventh cuckoo. He disappeared with a snap,
+disappeared without flapping his wings, or, as Griselda always fancied
+he did, giving her a friendly nod, and in an instant all was silent.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda felt a little frightened. What had she done? She looked up at
+the clock. It seemed just the same as usual, the cuckoo's doors closely
+shut, no sign of any disturbance. Could it have been her fancy only that
+he had sprung back more hastily than he would have done but for her
+throwing the book at him? She began to hope so, and tried to go on with
+her lessons. But it was no use. Though she really gave her best
+attention to the long addition sums, and found that by so doing she
+managed them much better than before, she could not feel happy or at
+ease. <!-- Page 39 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>Every few minutes she glanced up at the clock, as if expecting the
+cuckoo to come out, though she knew quite well there was no chance of
+his doing so till twelve o'clock, as it was only the hours, not the half
+hours and quarters, that he told.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish it was twelve o'clock," she said to herself anxiously more than
+once.</p>
+
+<p>If only the clock had not been so very high up on the wall, she would
+have been tempted to climb up and open the little doors, and peep in to
+satisfy herself as to the cuckoo's condition. But there was no
+possibility of this. The clock was far, very far above her reach, and
+there was no high piece of furniture standing near, upon which she could
+have climbed to get to it. There was nothing to be done but to wait for
+twelve o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>And, after all, she did not wait for twelve o'clock, for just about
+half-past eleven, Miss Grizzel's voice was heard calling to her to put
+on her hat and cloak quickly, and come out to walk up and down the
+terrace with her.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 40 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>"It is fine just now," said Miss Grizzel, "but there is a prospect of
+rain before long. You must leave your lessons for the present, and
+finish them in the afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>"I have finished them," said Griselda, meekly.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>All?</i>" inquired her aunt.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, all," replied Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, then, this afternoon, if the rain holds off, we shall drive
+to Merrybrow Hall, and inquire for the health of your dear godmother,
+Lady Lavander," said Miss Grizzel.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Griselda! There were few things she disliked more than a drive with
+her aunts. They went in the old yellow chariot, with all the windows up,
+and of course Griselda had to sit with her back to the horses, which
+made her very uncomfortable when she had no air, and had to sit still
+for so long.</p>
+
+<p>Merrybrow Hall was a large house, quite as old and much grander, but not
+nearly so wonderful as the home of Griselda's aunts. It was six miles
+off, and it took a very long<!-- Page 41 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> time indeed to drive there in the rumbling
+old chariot, for the old horses were fat and wheezy, and the old
+coachman fat and wheezy too. Lady Lavander was, of course, old too&mdash;very
+old indeed, and rather grumpy and very deaf. Miss Grizzel and Miss
+Tabitha had the greatest respect for her; she always called them "My
+dear," as if they were quite girls, and they listened to all she said as
+if her words were of gold. For some mysterious reason she had been
+invited to be Griselda's godmother; but, as she had never shown her any
+proof of affection beyond giving her a prayer-book, and hoping, whenever
+she saw her, that she was "a good little miss," Griselda did not feel
+any particular cause for gratitude to her.</p>
+
+<p>The drive seemed longer and duller than ever this afternoon, but
+Griselda bore it meekly; and when Lady Lavander, as usual, expressed her
+hopes about her, the little girl looked down modestly, feeling her
+cheeks grow scarlet. "I am not a good little girl at<!-- Page 42 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> all," she felt
+inclined to call out. "I'm very bad and cruel. I believe I've killed the
+dear little cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>What <i>would</i> the three old ladies have thought if she had called it out?
+As it was, Lady Lavander patted her approvingly, said she loved to see
+young people modest and humble-minded, and gave her a slice of very
+highly-spiced, rather musty gingerbread, which Griselda couldn't bear.</p>
+
+<p>All the way home Griselda felt in a fever of impatience to rush up to
+the ante-room and see if the cuckoo was all right again. It was late and
+dark when the chariot at last stopped at the door of the old house. Miss
+Grizzel got out slowly, and still more slowly Miss Tabitha followed her.
+Griselda was obliged to restrain herself and move demurely.</p>
+
+<p>"It is past your supper-time, my dear," said Miss Grizzel. "Go up at
+once to your room, and Dorcas shall bring some supper to you. Late hours
+are bad for young people."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda obediently wished her aunts good-<!-- Page 43 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>night, and went quietly
+upstairs. But once out of sight, at the first landing, she changed her
+pace. She turned to the left instead of to the right, which led to her
+own room, and flew rather than ran along the dimly-lighted passage, at
+the end of which a door led into the great saloon. She opened the door.
+All was quite dark. It was impossible to fly or run across the great
+saloon! Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter.
+Griselda <i>felt</i> her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and
+the pot-pourri jar till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and
+now, knowing her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All
+was silent, save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if
+<i>only</i> the cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a
+weight would be lifted off Griselda's heart!</p>
+
+<p>She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or
+it might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then
+hearing Miss Grizzel's voice<!-- Page 44 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> in the distance, she felt that she dared
+not stay any longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again.
+Just as she got to the door it seemed to her that something softly
+brushed her cheek, and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded, as it were,
+in the air close to her.</p>
+
+<p>Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer.</p>
+
+<p>Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her ear.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>must</i> go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon
+without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many breakable
+treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long passage
+again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with her
+supper.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the
+cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a<!-- Page 45 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> start to
+find it was <i>only</i> fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came
+down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was alone
+in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her what was the
+matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister
+Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best.
+Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this
+moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room&mdash;her cap awry, her
+shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever
+seen her so discomposed before.</p>
+
+<p>"Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what can be going to happen? The
+cuckoo clock has stopped."</p>
+
+<p>"The cuckoo clock has stopped!" repeated Miss Tabitha, holding up her
+hands; "<i>im</i>possible!"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 46 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
+"But it has, or rather I should say&mdash;dear me, I am so upset I cannot
+explain myself&mdash;the <i>cuckoo</i> has stopped. The clock is going on, but the
+cuckoo has not told the hours, and Dorcas is of opinion that he left off
+doing so yesterday. What can be going to happen? What shall we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"What can we do?" said Miss Tabitha. "Should we send for the
+watch-maker?"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"'Twould be worse than useless. Were we to search the world over, we
+could find no one to put it right. Fifty years and more, Tabitha, fifty
+years and more, it has never missed an hour! We are getting old,
+Tabitha, our day is nearly over; perhaps 'tis to remind us of this."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tabitha did not reply. She was weeping silently. The old ladies
+seemed to have forgotten the presence of their niece, but Griselda could
+not bear to see their distress. She finished her breakfast as quickly as
+she could, and left the room.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 47 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>On her way upstairs she met Dorcas.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard what has happened, little missie?" said the old servant.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," replied Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"My ladies are in great trouble," continued Dorcas, who seemed inclined
+to be more communicative than usual, "and no wonder. For fifty years
+that clock has never gone wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't it be put right?" asked the child.</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>"No good would come of interfering," she said. "What must be, must be.
+The luck of the house hangs on that clock. Its maker spent a good part
+of his life over it, and his last words were that it would bring good
+luck to the house that owned it, but that trouble would follow its
+silence. It's my belief," she added solemnly, "that it's a <i>fairy</i>
+clock, neither more nor less, for good luck it has brought there's no
+denying. There are no cows like ours, missie&mdash;their milk is a proverb
+hereabouts; there are no<!-- Page 48 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> hens like ours for laying all the year round;
+there are no roses like ours. And there's always a friendly feeling in
+this house, and always has been. 'Tis not a house for wrangling and
+jangling, and sharp words. The 'good people' can't stand that. Nothing
+drives them away like ill-temper or anger."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda's conscience gave her a sharp prick. Could it be <i>her</i> doing
+that trouble was coming upon the old house? What a punishment for a
+moment's fit of ill-temper.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk that way, Dorcas," she said; "it makes me so
+unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>"What a feeling heart the child has!" said the old servant as she went
+on her way downstairs. "It's true&mdash;she is very like Miss Sybilla."</p>
+
+<p>That day was a very weary and sad one for Griselda. She was oppressed by
+a feeling she did not understand. She knew she had done wrong, but she
+had sorely repented it, and "I do think the cuckoo might have come<!-- Page 49 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> back
+again," she said to herself, "if he <i>is</i> a fairy; and if he isn't, it
+can't be true what Dorcas says."</p>
+
+<p>Her aunts made no allusion to the subject in her presence, and almost
+seemed to have forgotten that she had known of their distress. They were
+more grave and silent than usual, but otherwise things went on in their
+ordinary way. Griselda spent the morning "at her tasks," in the
+ante-room, but was thankful to get away from the tick-tick of the clock
+in the corner and out into the garden.</p>
+
+<p>But there, alas! it was just as bad. The rooks seemed to know that
+something was the matter; they set to work making such a chatter
+immediately Griselda appeared that she felt inclined to run back into
+the house again.</p>
+
+<p>"I am sure they are talking about me," she said to herself. "Perhaps
+they are fairies too. I am beginning to think I don't like fairies."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 50 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>She was glad when bed-time came. It was a sort of reproach to her to see
+her aunts so pale and troubled; and though she tried to persuade herself
+that she thought them very silly, she could not throw off the
+uncomfortable feeling.</p>
+
+<p>She was so tired when she went to bed&mdash;tired in the disagreeable way
+that comes from a listless, uneasy day&mdash;that she fell asleep at once and
+slept heavily. When she woke, which she did suddenly, and with a start,
+it was still perfectly dark, like the first morning that she had wakened
+in the old house. It seemed to her that she had not wakened of
+herself&mdash;something had roused her. Yes! there it was again, a very,
+<i>very</i> soft distant "cuckoo." <i>Was</i> it distant? She could not tell.
+Almost she could have fancied it was close to her.</p>
+
+<p>"If it's that cuckoo come back again, I'll catch him!" exclaimed
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>She darted out of bed, felt her way to the door, which was closed, and
+opening it let<!-- Page 51 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> in a rush of moonlight from the unshuttered passage
+window. In another moment her little bare feet were pattering along the
+passage at full speed, in the direction of the great saloon.</p>
+
+<p>For Griselda's childhood among the troop of noisy brothers had taught
+her one lesson&mdash;she was afraid of nothing. Or rather perhaps I should
+say she had never learnt that there was anything to be afraid of! And is
+there?</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus051.png" width="200" height="315" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><!-- Page 52 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III<br />
+OBEYING ORDERS</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus243.png" width="700" height="295" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Little girl, thou must thy part fulfil,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If we're to take kindly to ours:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then pull up the weeds with a will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And fairies will cherish the flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/t.png" width="193" height="200" alt="T" title="" />
+</div><p>here was moonlight, though not so much, in the saloon and the
+ante-room, too; for though the windows, like those in Griselda's
+bed-room, had the shutters closed, there was a round part at the top,
+high up, which the shutters did not reach to, and in crept, through
+these clear uncovered panes, quite as many moonbeams, you may be sure,
+as could find their way.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 53 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>Griselda, eager though she was, could not help standing still a moment
+to admire the effect.</p>
+
+<p>"It looks prettier with the light coming in at those holes at the top
+than even if the shutters were open," she said to herself. "How
+goldy-silvery the cabinet looks; and, yes, I do declare, the mandarins
+are nodding! I wonder if it is out of politeness to me, or does Aunt
+Grizzel come in last thing at night and touch them to make them keep
+nodding till morning? I <i>suppose</i> they're a sort of policemen to the
+palace; and I dare say there are all sorts of beautiful things inside.
+How I should like to see all through it!"</p>
+
+<p>But at this moment the faint tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the next
+room, reaching her ear, reminded her of the object of this midnight
+expedition of hers. She hurried into the ante-room.</p>
+
+<p>It looked darker than the great saloon, for it had but one window. But
+through the uncovered space at the top of this window there penetrated
+some brilliant moonbeams,<!-- Page 54 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> one of which lighted up brightly the face of
+the clock with its queer over-hanging eaves.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda approached it and stood below, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said softly&mdash;very softly.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she repeated rather more loudly. "Why won't you speak to me? I
+know you are there, and you're not asleep, for I heard your voice in my
+own room. Why won't you come out, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tick-tick," said the clock, but there was no other reply.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda felt ready to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said reproachfully, "I didn't think you were so
+hard-hearted. I have been <i>so</i> unhappy about you, and I was so pleased
+to hear your voice again, for I thought I had killed you, or hurt you
+very badly; and I didn't <i>mean</i> to hurt you, cuckoo. I was sorry the
+moment I had done it, <i>dreadfully</i> sorry. Dear cuckoo, won't you forgive
+me?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 55 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus055.jpg"><img src="images/illus055-thumb.jpg"
+width="218" height="300"
+alt="SHE COULD NOT HELP VERY SOFTLY CLAPPING HER HANDS" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">she could not help very softly clapping her hands</span>
+</div>
+<p><!-- Page 56 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 57 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+There was a little sound at last&mdash;a faint <i>coming</i> sound, and by the
+moonlight Griselda saw the doors open, and out flew the cuckoo. He stood
+still for a moment, looked round him as it were, then gently flapped his
+wings, and uttered his usual note&mdash;"Cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stood in breathless expectation, but in her delight she could
+not help very softly clapping her hands.</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo cleared his throat. You never heard such a funny little noise
+as he made; and then, in a very clear, distinct, but yet "cuckoo-y"
+voice, he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," he said, "are you truly sorry?"</p>
+
+<p>"I told you I was," she replied. "But I didn't <i>feel</i> so very naughty,
+cuckoo. I didn't, really. I was only vexed for one minute, and when I
+threw the book I seemed to be a very little in fun, too. And it made me
+so unhappy when you went away, and my poor aunts have been dreadfully
+unhappy too. If you hadn't come back I should have told them tomorrow
+what I had done. I would have<!-- Page 58 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> told them before, but I was afraid it
+would have made them more unhappy. I thought I had hurt you dreadfully."</p>
+
+<p>"So you did," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"But you <i>look</i> quite well," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"It was my <i>feelings</i>," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going
+away. I have to obey orders like other people."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You can
+understand about obeying <i>your</i> orders, and you see, when you don't,
+things go wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she
+continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home&mdash;<i>hardly</i> never, at
+least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them."</p>
+
+<p>"What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things
+go wrong in this house."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda.<!-- Page 59 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> "It must be with my being a
+child&mdash;my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's
+ways,"</p>
+
+<p>"About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily.</p>
+
+<p>"And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of
+lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to
+play with."</p>
+
+<p>"There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and
+was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at
+last.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say.</p>
+
+<p>"And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present
+orders and go back to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly.</p>
+
+<p>"You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"You see I wasn't sure if you would like<!-- Page 60 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> it," returned Griselda, "for of
+course you're not like a person, and&mdash;and&mdash;I've been told all sorts of
+queer things about what fairies like and don't like."</p>
+
+<p>"Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Dorcas did, and, <i>of course</i>, my own common sense did too," replied
+Griselda. "You must be a fairy&mdash;you couldn't be anything else."</p>
+
+<p>"I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda looked puzzled.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much
+difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing."</p>
+
+<p>"What?" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at
+you, have you come back for good?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 61 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
+Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she
+said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make
+my aunts happy again?"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to
+let me know when you've considered."</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was
+meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact
+second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to
+the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel
+the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as
+possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the
+moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell
+asleep; and it<!-- Page 62 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft
+feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in
+her ear.</p>
+
+<p>When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the
+wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale
+grey-blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>"It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters
+and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so
+beautifully unsleepy now. I must dress quickly&mdash;how nice it will be to
+see my aunts look happy again! I don't even care if they scold me for
+being late."</p>
+
+<p>But, after all, it was not so much later than usual; it was only a much
+brighter morning than they had had for some time. Griselda did dress
+herself very quickly, however. As she went downstairs two or three of
+the clocks in the house, for there were several, were striking eight.
+These clocks must have been a little before the right time,<!-- Page 63 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> for it was
+not till they had again relapsed into silence that there rang out from
+the ante-room the clear sweet tones, eight times repeated, of "Cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were already at the breakfast-table, but
+they received their little niece most graciously. Nothing was said about
+the clock, however, till about half-way through the meal, when Griselda,
+full of eagerness to know if her aunts were aware of the cuckoo's
+return, could restrain herself no longer.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Grizzel," she said, "isn't the cuckoo all right again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my dear. I am delighted to say it is," replied Miss Grizzel.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you get it put right, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, slyly.</p>
+
+<p>"Little girls should not ask so many questions," replied Miss Grizzel,
+mysteriously. "It <i>is</i> all right again, and that is enough. During fifty
+years that cuckoo has never, till yesterday, missed an hour. If you, in
+<!-- Page 64 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>your sphere, my dear, do as well during fifty years, you won't have done
+badly."</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, you won't have done badly," repeated Miss Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>But though the two old ladies thus tried to improve the occasion by a
+little lecturing, Griselda could see that at the bottom of their hearts
+they were both so happy that, even if she had been very naughty indeed,
+they could hardly have made up their minds to scold her.</p>
+
+<p>She was not at all inclined to be naughty this day. She had something to
+think about and look forward to, which made her quite a different little
+girl, and made her take heart in doing her lessons as well as she
+possibly could.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder when the cuckoo will have considered enough about my having no
+one to play with?" she said to herself, as she was walking up and down
+the terrace at the back of the house.</p>
+
+<p>"Caw, caw!" screamed a rook just over her head, as if in answer to her
+thought.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 65 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
+Griselda looked up at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Your voice isn't half so pretty as the cuckoo's, Mr. Rook," she said.
+"All the same, I dare say I should make friends with you, if I
+understood what you meant. How funny it would be to know all the
+languages of the birds and the beasts, like the prince in the fairy
+tale! I wonder if I should wish for that, if a fairy gave me a wish? No,
+I don't think I would. I'd <i>far</i> rather have the fairy carpet that would
+take you anywhere you liked in a minute. I'd go to China to see if all
+the people there look like Aunt Grizzel's mandarins; and I'd first of
+all, of course, go to fairyland."</p>
+
+<p>"You must come in now, little missie," said Dorcas's voice. "Miss
+Grizzel says you have had play enough, and there's a nice fire in the
+ante-room for you to do your lessons by."</p>
+
+<p>"Play!" repeated Griselda indignantly, as she turned to follow the old
+servant. "Do you call walking up and down the terrace<!-- Page 66 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> 'play,' Dorcas? I
+mustn't loiter even to pick a flower, if there were any, for fear of
+catching cold, and I mustn't run for fear of overheating myself. I
+declare, Dorcas, if I don't have some play soon, or something to amuse
+me, I think I'll run away."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, nay, missie, don't talk like that. You'd never do anything so
+naughty, and you so like Miss Sybilla, who was so good."</p>
+
+<p>"Dorcas, I'm tired of being told I'm like Miss Sybilla," said Griselda,
+impatiently. "She was my grandmother; no one would like to be told they
+were like their grandmother. It makes me feel as if my face must be all
+screwy up and wrinkly, and as if I should have spectacles on and a wig."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> is not like what Miss Sybilla was when I first saw her," said
+Dorcas. "She was younger than you, missie, and as pretty as a fairy."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Was</i> she?" exclaimed Griselda, stopping short.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed she was. She might have <!-- Page 67 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>been a fairy, so sweet she was and
+gentle&mdash;and yet so merry. Every creature loved her; even the animals
+about seemed to know her, as if she was one of themselves. She brought
+good luck to the house, and it was a sad day when she left it."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you said it was the cuckoo that brought good luck?" said
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, so it was. The cuckoo and Miss Sybilla came here the same day. It
+was left to her by her mother's father, with whom she had lived since
+she was a baby, and when he died she came here to her sisters. She
+wasn't <i>own</i> sister to my ladies, you see, missie. Her mother had come
+from Germany, and it was in some strange place there, where her
+grandfather lived, that the cuckoo clock was made. They make wonderful
+clocks there, I've been told, but none more wonderful than our cuckoo,
+I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm <i>sure</i> not," said Griselda, softly. "Why didn't Miss Sybilla
+take it with her when she was married and went away?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 68 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
+"She knew her sisters were so fond of it. It was like a memory of her
+left behind for them. It was like a part of her. And do you know,
+missie, the night she died&mdash;she died soon after your father was born, a
+year after she was married&mdash;for a whole hour, from twelve to one, that
+cuckoo went on cuckooing in a soft, sad way, like some living creature
+in trouble. Of course, we did not know anything was wrong with her, and
+folks said something had caught some of the springs of the works; but
+<i>I</i> didn't think so, and never shall. And&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But here Dorcas's reminiscences were abruptly brought to a close by Miss
+Grizzel's appearance at the other end of the terrace.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda, what are you loitering so for? Dorcas, you should have
+hastened, not delayed Miss Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>So Griselda was hurried off to her lessons, and Dorcas to her kitchen.
+But Griselda did not much mind. She had plenty to think of and wonder
+about, and she liked to<!-- Page 69 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> do her lessons in the ante-room, with the
+tick-tick of the clock in her ears, and the feeling that <i>perhaps</i> the
+cuckoo was watching her through some invisible peep-hole in his closed
+doors.</p>
+
+<p>"And if he sees," thought Griselda, "if he sees how hard I am trying to
+do my lessons well, it will perhaps make him be quick about
+'considering.'"</p>
+
+<p>So she did try very hard. And she didn't speak to the cuckoo when he
+came out to say it was four o'clock. She was busy, and he was busy. She
+felt it was better to wait till he gave her some sign of being ready to
+talk to her again.</p>
+
+<p>For fairies, you know, children, however charming, are sometimes
+<i>rather</i> queer to have to do with. They don't like to be interfered
+with, or treated except with very great respect, and they have their own
+ideas about what is proper and what isn't, I can assure you.</p>
+
+<p>I suppose it was with working so hard at<!-- Page 70 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> her lessons&mdash;most people say it
+was with having been up the night before, running about the house in the
+moonlight; but as she had never felt so "fresh" in her life as when she
+got up that morning, it could hardly have been that&mdash;that Griselda felt
+so tired and sleepy that evening, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
+She begged to go to bed quite half an hour earlier than usual, which
+made Miss Tabitha afraid again that she was going to be ill. But as
+there is nothing better for children than to go to bed early, even if
+they <i>are</i> going to be ill, Miss Grizzel told her to say good-night, and
+to ask Dorcas to give her a wine-glassful of elderberry wine, nice and
+hot, after she was in bed.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda had no objection to the elderberry wine, though she felt she
+was having it on false pretences. She certainly did not need it to send
+her to sleep, for almost before her head touched the pillow she was as
+sound as a top. She had slept a good long<!-- Page 71 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> while, when again she wakened
+suddenly&mdash;just as she had done the night before, and again with the
+feeling that something had wakened her. And the queer thing was that the
+moment she was awake she felt so <i>very</i> awake&mdash;she had no inclination to
+stretch and yawn and hope it wasn't quite time to get up, and think how
+nice and warm bed was, and how cold it was outside! She sat straight up,
+and peered out into the darkness, feeling quite ready for an adventure.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, cuckoo?" she said softly.</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer, but listening intently, the child fancied she heard
+a faint rustling or fluttering in the corner of the room by the door.
+She got up and, feeling her way, opened it, and the instant she had done
+so she heard, a few steps only in front of her it seemed, the familiar
+notes, very, <i>very</i> soft and whispered, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>It went on and on, down the passage, Griselda trotting after. There was
+no moon to-night, heavy clouds had quite hidden it,<!-- Page 72 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> and outside the rain
+was falling heavily. Griselda could hear it on the window-panes, through
+the closed shutters and all. But dark as it was, she made her way along
+without any difficulty, down the passage, across the great saloon, in
+through the ante-room door, guided only by the little voice now and then
+to be heard in front of her. She came to a standstill right before the
+clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting.</p>
+
+<p>She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound,
+then the doors above the clock face opened&mdash;she heard them open, it was
+far too dark to see&mdash;and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it
+was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one
+stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at once), the bird sang
+out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening, cuckoo," said Griselda, when he had finished.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, you mean," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 73 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>"Good morning, then, cuckoo," said Griselda. "Have you considered about
+me, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo cleared his throat.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you learnt to obey orders yet, Griselda?" he inquired.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm trying," replied Griselda. "But you see, cuckoo, I've not had very
+long to learn in&mdash;it was only last night you told me, you know."</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say I have," she said. "But I can tell you one thing,
+cuckoo&mdash;whatever lessons I have, I <i>couldn't</i> ever have any worse than
+those addition sums of Mr. Kneebreeches'. I have made up my mind about
+that, for to-day, do you know, cuckoo&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yesterday," corrected the cuckoo. "Always be exact in your statements,
+Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, yesterday, then," said Griselda, rather tartly; "though when you
+know quite<!-- Page 74 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> well what I mean, I don't see that you need be so <i>very</i>
+particular. Well, as I was saying, I tried and <i>tried</i>, but still they
+were fearful. They were, indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda," repeated the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish you wouldn't say that so often," said Griselda. "I thought you
+were going to <i>play</i> with me."</p>
+
+<p>"There's something in that," said the cuckoo, "there's something in
+that. I should like to talk about it. But we could talk more comfortably
+if you would come up here and sit beside me."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda thought her friend must be going out of his mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit beside you up there!" she exclaimed. "Cuckoo, how <i>could</i> I? I'm
+far, far too big."</p>
+
+<p>"Big!" returned the cuckoo. "What do you mean by big? It's all a matter
+of fancy. Don't you know that if the world and everything in it,
+counting yourself of course, was<!-- Page 75 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> all made little enough to go into a
+walnut, you'd never find out the difference."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Wouldn't</i> I?" said Griselda, feeling rather muddled; "but, <i>not</i>
+counting myself, cuckoo, I would then, wouldn't I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nonsense," said the cuckoo hastily; "you've a great deal to learn, and
+one thing is, not to <i>argue</i>. Nobody should argue; it's a shocking bad
+habit, and ruins the digestion. Come up here and sit beside me
+comfortably. Catch hold of the chain; you'll find you can manage if you
+try."</p>
+
+<p>"But it'll stop the clock," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel said I was
+never to touch the weights or the chains."</p>
+
+<p>"Stuff," said the cuckoo; "it won't stop the clock. Catch hold of the
+chains and swing yourself up. There now&mdash;I told you you could manage
+it."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<p><!-- Page 76 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV<br />
+THE COUNTRY OF THE NODDING MANDARINS</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus076a.png" width="700" height="328" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"We're all nodding, nid-nid-nodding."</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/h.png" width="194" height="200" alt="H" title="" />
+</div><p>ow she managed it she never knew; but, somehow or other, it <i>was</i>
+managed. She seemed to slide up the chain just as easily as in a general
+way she would have slidden down, only without any disagreeable
+anticipation of a bump at the end of the journey. And when she got to
+the top how wonderfully different it looked from anything she could have
+expected! The doors stood open, and Griselda found them
+<!-- Page 79 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> quite big enough, or herself quite small enough&mdash;which it was she
+couldn't tell, and as it was all a matter of fancy she decided not to
+trouble to inquire&mdash;to pass through quite comfortably.</p>
+
+<p><br /><!-- Page 77 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 78 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span><br />
+And inside there was the most charming little snuggery imaginable. It
+was something like a saloon railway carriage&mdash;it seemed to be all lined
+and carpeted and everything, with rich mossy red velvet; there was a
+little round table in the middle and two arm-chairs, on one of which sat
+the cuckoo&mdash;"quite like other people," thought Griselda to
+herself&mdash;while the other, as he pointed out to Griselda by a little nod,
+was evidently intended for her.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said she, sitting down on the chair as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you comfortable?" inquired the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," replied Griselda, looking about her with great satisfaction.
+"Are all cuckoo clocks like this when you get up inside them?"<!-- Page 80 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> she
+inquired. "I can't think how there's room for this dear little place
+between the clock and the wall. Is it a hole cut out of the wall on
+purpose, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus077.jpg"><img src="images/illus077-thumb.jpg"
+width="221" height="300"
+alt="&quot;ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?&quot; INQUIRED THE CUCKOO" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">&quot;are you comfortable?&quot; inquired the cuckoo</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the cuckoo, "we've got other things to talk about. First,
+shall I lend you one of my mantles? You may feel cold."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't just now," replied Griselda; "but perhaps I <i>might</i>."</p>
+
+<p>She looked at her little bare feet as she spoke, and wondered why <i>they</i>
+weren't cold, for it was very chilblainy weather.</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo stood up, and with one of his claws reached from a corner
+where it was hanging a cloak which Griselda had not before noticed. For
+it was hanging wrong side out, and the lining was red velvet, very like
+what the sides of the little room were covered with, so it was no wonder
+she had not noticed it.</p>
+
+<p>Had it been hanging the <i>right</i> side out she must have done so; this
+side was so very wonderful!</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 81 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
+It was all feathers&mdash;feathers of every shade and colour, but beautifully
+worked in, somehow, so as to lie quite smoothly and evenly, one colour
+melting away into another like those in a prism, so that you could
+hardly tell where one began and another ended.</p>
+
+<p>"What a <i>lovely</i> cloak!" said Griselda, wrapping it round her and
+feeling even more comfortable than before, as she watched the rays of
+the little lamp in the roof&mdash;I think I was forgetting to tell you that
+the cuckoo's boudoir was lighted by a dear little lamp set into the red
+velvet roof like a pearl in a ring&mdash;playing softly on the brilliant
+colours of the feather mantle.</p>
+
+<p>"It's better than lovely," said the cuckoo, "as you shall see. Now,
+Griselda," he continued, in the tone of one coming to business&mdash;"now,
+Griselda, let us talk."</p>
+
+<p>"We have been talking," said Griselda, "ever so long. I am very
+comfortable. When you say 'let us talk' like that, it makes me forget
+all I wanted to say. Just<!-- Page 82 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> let me sit still and say whatever comes into
+my head."</p>
+
+<p>"That won't do," said the cuckoo; "we must have a plan of action."</p>
+
+<p>"A what?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"You see you <i>have</i> a great deal to learn," said the cuckoo
+triumphantly. "You don't understand what I say."</p>
+
+<p>"But I didn't come up here to learn," said Griselda; "I can do that down
+there;" and she nodded her head in the direction of the ante-room table.
+"I want to play."</p>
+
+<p>"Just so," said the cuckoo; "that's what I want to talk about. What do
+you call 'play'&mdash;blindman's-buff and that sort of thing?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda, considering. "I'm getting rather too big for that
+kind of play. Besides, cuckoo, you and I alone couldn't have much fun at
+blindman's-buff; there'd be only me to catch you or you to catch me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we could easily get more," said the cuckoo. "The mandarins would be
+pleased to join."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 83 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
+"The mandarins!" repeated Griselda. "Why, cuckoo, they're not alive! How
+could they play?"</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo looked at her gravely for a minute, then shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"You have a <i>great</i> deal to learn," he said solemnly. "Don't you know
+that <i>everything's</i> alive?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda, "I don't; and I don't know what you mean, and I
+don't think I want to know what you mean. I want to talk about playing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the cuckoo, "talk."</p>
+
+<p>"What I call playing," pursued Griselda, "is&mdash;I have thought about it
+now, you see&mdash;is being amused. If you will amuse me, cuckoo, I will
+count that you are playing with me."</p>
+
+<p>"How shall I amuse you?" inquired he.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's for you to find out!" exclaimed Griselda. "You might tell me
+fairy stories, you know: if you're a fairy you should know lots; or&mdash;oh
+yes, of course that would be far<!-- Page 84 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> nicer&mdash;if you are a fairy you might
+take me with you to fairyland."</p>
+
+<p>Again the cuckoo shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"That," said he, "I cannot do."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" said Griselda. "Lots of children have been there."</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it," said the cuckoo. "<i>Some</i> may have been, but not lots. And
+some may have thought they had been there who hadn't really been there
+at all. And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one
+thing&mdash;they were not <i>taken</i>, they found their own way. No one ever was
+<i>taken</i> to fairyland&mdash;to the real fairyland. They may have been taken to
+the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself."</p>
+
+<p>"And how is one ever to find one's own way there?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"That I cannot tell you either," replied the cuckoo. "There are many
+roads there; you may find yours some day. And if ever you do find it, be
+sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may
+<!-- Page 85 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
+see further after a while. Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors
+into fairyland!"</p>
+
+<p>"Doors!" cried Griselda. "Are there any doors into fairyland in this
+house?"</p>
+
+<p>"Several," said the cuckoo; "but don't waste your time looking for them
+at present. It would be no use."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how will you amuse me?" inquired Griselda, in a rather
+disappointed tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn't mind seeing. Not geography
+sort of places&mdash;it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa
+and all those places&mdash;but <i>queer</i> places, like the mines where the
+goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the
+sea where the mermaids live. And&mdash;oh, I've just thought&mdash;now I'm so nice
+and little, I <i>would</i> like to go all over the mandarins' palace in the
+great saloon."</p>
+
+<p>"That can be easily managed," said the<!-- Page 86 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> cuckoo; "but&mdash;excuse me for an
+instant," he exclaimed suddenly. He gave a spring forward and
+disappeared. Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo, cuckoo." It was three o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on
+his chair. "As I was saying," he went on, "nothing could be easier. But
+that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well
+as the one you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Another door, do you mean?" said Griselda. "How funny! Does it go
+through the wall? And where does it lead to?"</p>
+
+<p>"It leads," replied the cuckoo, "it leads to the country of the Nodding
+Mandarins."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>What</i> fun!" exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands. "Cuckoo, do let us
+go there. How can we get down? You can fly, but must I slide down the
+chain again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, no," said the cuckoo, "by no means. You have only to stretch
+out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings&mdash;
+<!-- Page 87 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>so"&mdash;he flapped his
+own wings encouragingly&mdash;"wish, and there you'll be."</p>
+
+<p>"Where?" said Griselda bewilderedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Wherever you wish to be, of course," said the cuckoo. "Are you ready?
+Here goes."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait&mdash;wait a moment," cried Griselda. "Where am I to wish to be?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "Where <i>do</i> you wish to be? You
+said you wanted to visit the country of the Nodding Mandarins."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes; but am I to wish first to be in the palace in the great saloon?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly," replied the cuckoo. "That is the entrance to Mandarin Land,
+and you said you would like to see through it. So&mdash;you're surely ready
+now?"</p>
+
+<p>"A thought has just struck me," said Griselda. "How will you know what
+o'clock it is, so as to come back in time to tell the next hour? My
+aunts will get into such a fright if you go wrong again! Are you sure we
+<!-- Page 88 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
+shall have time to go to the mandarins' country to-night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Time!" repeated the cuckoo; "what is time? Ah, Griselda, you have a
+<i>very</i> great deal to learn! What do you mean by time?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," replied Griselda, feeling rather snubbed. "Being slow or
+quick&mdash;I suppose that's what I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is slow, and what is quick?" said the cuckoo. "<i>All</i> a matter
+of fancy! If everything that's been done since the world was made till
+now, was done over again in five minutes, you'd never know the
+difference."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cuckoo, I wish you wouldn't!" cried poor Griselda; "you're worse
+than sums, you do so puzzle me. It's like what you said about nothing
+being big or little, only it's worse. Where would all the days and hours
+be if there was nothing but minutes? Oh, cuckoo, you said you'd amuse
+me, and you do nothing but puzzle me."</p>
+
+<p>"It was your own fault. You wouldn't<!-- Page 89 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> get ready," said the cuckoo,
+"<i>Now</i>, here goes! Flap and wish."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda flapped and wished. She felt a sort of rustle in the air, that
+was all&mdash;then she found herself standing with the cuckoo in front of the
+Chinese cabinet, the door of which stood open, while the mandarins on
+each side, nodding politely, seemed to invite them to enter. Griselda
+hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"Go on," said the cuckoo, patronizingly; "ladies first."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda went on. To her surprise, inside the cabinet it was quite
+light, though where the light came from that illuminated all the queer
+corners and recesses and streamed out to the front, where stood the
+mandarins, she could not discover.</p>
+
+<p>The "palace" was not quite as interesting as she had expected. There
+were lots of little rooms in it opening on to balconies commanding, no
+doubt, a splendid view of the great saloon; there were ever so many
+little stair-cases leading to more little rooms and balconies; but it
+<!-- Page 90 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>all seemed empty and deserted.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care for it," said Griselda, stopping short at last; "it's all
+the same, and there's nothing to see. I thought my aunts kept ever so
+many beautiful things in here, and there's nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, then," said the cuckoo. "I didn't expect you'd care for the
+palace, as you called it, much. Let us go out the other way."</p>
+
+<p>He hopped down a sort of little staircase near which they were standing,
+and Griselda followed him willingly enough. At the foot they found
+themselves in a vestibule, much handsomer than the entrance at the other
+side, and the cuckoo, crossing it, lifted one of his claws and touched a
+spring in the wall. Instantly a pair of large doors flew open in the
+middle, revealing to Griselda the prettiest and most curious sight she
+had ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>A flight of wide, shallow steps led down from this doorway into a long,
+long avenue bordered by stiffly growing trees, from the branches of which
+hung innumerable lamps of every colour, making a
+perfect network of brilliance as far as the eye could reach.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 91 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus091.jpg"><img src="images/illus091-thumb.jpg"
+width="220" height="300"
+alt="HE FLAPPED HIS WINGS, AND A PALANQUIN APPEARED AT THE
+FOOT OF THE STEPS" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">he flapped his wings, and a palanquin appeared at the
+foot of the steps</span>
+</div>
+<p><!-- Page 92 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 93 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
+"Oh, how lovely!" cried Griselda, clapping her hands. "It'll be like
+walking along a rainbow. Cuckoo, come quick."</p>
+
+<p>"Stop," said the cuckoo; "we've a good way to go. There's no need to
+walk. Palanquin!"</p>
+
+<p>He flapped his wings, and instantly a palanquin appeared at the foot of
+the steps. It was made of carved ivory, and borne by four
+Chinese-looking figures with pigtails and bright-coloured jackets. A
+feeling came over Griselda that she was dreaming, or else that she had
+seen this palanquin before. She hesitated. Suddenly she gave a little
+jump of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"I know," she exclaimed. "It's exactly like the one that stands under a
+glass shade on Lady Lavander's drawing-room mantelpiece. I wonder if it
+is the very one? Fancy me being able to get <i>into</i> it!"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 94 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
+She looked at the four bearers. Instantly they all nodded.</p>
+
+<p>"What do they mean?" asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Get in," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm just going to get in," she said; "but what do <i>they</i> mean when
+they nod at me like that?"</p>
+
+<p>"They mean, of course, what I tell you&mdash;'Get in,'" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Why don't they say so, then?" persisted Griselda, getting in, however,
+as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda, you have a <i>very</i> great&mdash;&mdash;" began the cuckoo, but Griselda
+interrupted him.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "if you say that again, I'll jump out of the
+palanquin and run away home to bed. Of course I've a great deal to
+learn&mdash;that's why I like to ask questions about everything I see. Now,
+tell me where we are going."</p>
+
+<p>"In the first place," said the cuckoo, "are you comfortable?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 95 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
+"Very," said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions.</p>
+
+<p>It was a change from the cuckoo's boudoir. There were no chairs or
+seats, only a number of very, <i>very</i> soft cushions covered with green
+silk. There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could
+draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring. Griselda stroked
+the silk gently. It was not "fruzzley" silk, if you know what that
+means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as
+if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way;
+its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal.</p>
+
+<p>"What nice silk!" said Griselda. "I'd like a dress of it. I never
+noticed that the palanquin was lined so nicely," she continued, "for I
+suppose it <i>is</i> the one from Lady Lavander's mantelpiece? There couldn't
+be two so exactly like each other."</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo gave a sort of whistle.</p>
+
+<p>"What a goose you are, my dear!" he<!-- Page 96 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> exclaimed. "Excuse me," he
+continued, seeing that Griselda looked rather offended; "I didn't mean
+to hurt your feelings, but you won't let me say the other thing, you
+know. The palanquin from Lady Lavander's! I should think not. You might
+as well mistake one of those horrible paper roses that Dorcas sticks in
+her vases for one of your aunt's Gloires de Dijon! The palanquin from
+Lady Lavander's&mdash;a clumsy human imitation not worth looking at!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know," said Griselda humbly. "Do they make such beautiful
+things in Mandarin Land?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda sat silent for a minute or two, but very soon she recovered her
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p>"Will you please tell me where we are going?" she asked again.</p>
+
+<p>"You'll see directly," said the cuckoo; "not that I mind telling you.
+There's to be a grand reception at one of the palaces to-night. I
+thought you'd like to assist at it.<!-- Page 97 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> It'll give you some idea of what a
+palace is like. By-the-by, can you dance?"</p>
+
+<p>"A little," replied Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well, I dare say you will manage. I've ordered a court dress for
+you. It will be all ready when we get there."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>In a minute or two the palanquin stopped. The cuckoo got out, and
+Griselda followed him.</p>
+
+<p>She found that they were at the entrance to a <i>very</i> much grander palace
+than the one in her aunt's saloon. The steps leading up to the door were
+very wide and shallow, and covered with a gold embroidered carpet, which
+<i>looked</i> as if it would be prickly to her bare feet, but which, on the
+contrary, when she trod upon it, felt softer than the softest moss. She
+could see very little besides the carpet, for at each side of the steps
+stood rows and rows of mandarins, all something like, but a great deal
+grander than, the pair outside her aunt's cabinet; and as the cuckoo
+<!-- Page 98 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>hopped and Griselda walked up the staircase, they all, in turn, row by
+row, began solemnly to nod. It gave them the look of a field of very
+high grass, through which, any one passing, leaves for the moment a
+trail, till all the heads bob up again into their places.</p>
+
+<p>"What do they mean?" whispered Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a royal salute," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"A salute!" said Griselda. "I thought that meant kissing or guns."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the cuckoo, for by this time they had arrived at the top of
+the staircase; "you must be dressed now."</p>
+
+<p>Two mandariny-looking young ladies, with porcelain faces and
+three-cornered head-dresses, stepped forward and led Griselda into a
+small ante-room, where lay waiting for her the most magnificent dress
+you ever saw. But how <i>do</i> you think they dressed her? It was all by
+nodding. They nodded to the blue and silver embroidered jacket, and in a
+moment it had fitted itself on to<!-- Page 99 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> her. They nodded to the splendid
+scarlet satin skirt, made very short in front and very long behind, and
+before Griselda knew where she was, it was adjusted quite correctly.
+They nodded to the head-dress, and the sashes, and the necklaces and
+bracelets, and forthwith they all arranged themselves. Last of all, they
+nodded to the dearest, sweetest little pair of high-heeled shoes
+imaginable&mdash;all silver, and blue, and gold, and scarlet, and everything
+mixed up together, <i>only</i> they were rather a stumpy shape about the toes
+and Griselda's bare feet were encased in them, and, to her surprise,
+quite comfortably so.</p>
+
+<p>"They don't hurt me a bit," she said aloud; "yet they didn't look the
+least the shape of my foot."</p>
+
+<p>But her attendants only nodded; and turning round, she saw the cuckoo
+waiting for her. He did not speak either, rather to her annoyance, but
+gravely led the way through one grand room after another to the grandest
+<!-- Page 100 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>of all, where the entertainment was evidently just about to begin. And
+everywhere there were mandarins, rows and rows, who all set to work
+nodding as fast as Griselda appeared. She began to be rather tired of
+royal salutes, and was glad when, at last, in profound silence, the
+procession, consisting of the cuckoo and herself, and about half a dozen
+"mandarins," came to a halt before a kind of da&iuml;s, or raised seat, at
+the end of the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Upon this da&iuml;s stood a chair&mdash;a throne of some kind, Griselda supposed
+it to be&mdash;and upon this was seated the grandest and gravest personage
+she had yet seen.</p>
+
+<p>"Is he the king of the mandarins?" she whispered. But the cuckoo did not
+reply; and before she had time to repeat the question, the very grand
+and grave person got down from his seat, and coming towards her offered
+her his hand, at the same time nodding&mdash;first once, then two or three
+times together, then once again. Griselda seemed to know <!-- Page 101 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>what he meant.
+He was asking her to dance.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you," she said. "I can't dance <i>very</i> well, but perhaps you won't
+mind,"</p>
+
+<p>The king, if that was his title, took not the slightest notice of her
+reply, but nodded again&mdash;once, then two or three times together, then
+once alone, just as before. Griselda did not know what to do, when
+suddenly she felt something poking her head. It was the cuckoo&mdash;he had
+lifted his claw, and was tapping her head to make her nod. So she
+nodded&mdash;once, twice together, then once&mdash;that appeared to be enough. The
+king nodded once again; an invisible band suddenly struck up the
+loveliest music, and off they set to the places of honour reserved for
+them in the centre of the room, where all the mandarins were assembling.</p>
+
+<p>What a dance that was! It began like a minuet and ended something like
+the haymakers. Griselda had not the least idea what the figures or steps
+were, but it did<!-- Page 102 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> not matter. If she did not know, her shoes or something
+about her did; for she got on famously. The music was lovely&mdash;"so the
+mandarins can't be deaf, though they are dumb," thought Griselda, "which
+is one good thing about them." The king seemed to enjoy it as much as
+she did, though he never smiled or laughed; any one could have seen he
+liked it by the way he whirled and twirled himself about. And between
+the figures, when they stopped to rest for a little, Griselda got on
+very well too. There was no conversation, or rather, if there was, it
+was all nodding.</p>
+
+<p>So Griselda nodded too, and though she did not know what her nods meant,
+the king seemed to understand and be quite pleased; and when they had
+nodded enough, the music struck up again, and off they set, harder than
+before.</p>
+
+<p>And every now and then tiny little mandariny boys appeared with trays
+filled with the most delicious fruits and sweetmeats.<!-- Page 103 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> Griselda was not a
+greedy child, but for once in her life she really <i>did</i> feel rather so.
+I cannot possibly describe these delicious things; just think of
+whatever in all your life was the most "lovely" thing you ever eat, and
+you may be sure they tasted like that. Only the cuckoo would not eat
+any, which rather distressed Griselda. He walked about among the
+dancers, apparently quite at home; and the mandarins did not seem at all
+surprised to see him, though he did look rather odd, being nearly, if
+not quite, as big as any of them. Griselda hoped he was enjoying
+himself, considering that she had to thank him for all the fun <i>she</i> was
+having, but she felt a little conscience-stricken when she saw that he
+wouldn't eat anything.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she whispered; she dared not talk out loud&mdash;it would have
+seemed so remarkable, you see. "Cuckoo," she said, very, very softly, "I
+wish you would eat something. You'll be so tired and hungry."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 104 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
+"No, thank you," said the cuckoo; and you can't think how pleased
+Griselda was at having succeeded in making him speak. "It isn't my way.
+I hope you are enjoying yourself?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>very</i> much," said Griselda. "I&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and looking up, Griselda saw a number of
+mandarins, in a sort of procession, coming their way.</p>
+
+<p>When they got up to the cuckoo they set to work nodding, two or three at
+a time, more energetically than usual. When they stopped, the cuckoo
+nodded in return, and then hopped off towards the middle of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"They're very fond of good music, you see," he whispered as he passed
+Griselda; "and they don't often get it."</p>
+
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 105 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V<br />
+PICTURES</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus013a.png" width="700" height="340" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"And she is always beautiful<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And always is eighteen!"<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/w.png" width="194" height="200" alt="W" title="" />
+</div><p>hen he got to the middle of the room the cuckoo cleared his throat,
+flapped his wings, and began to sing. Griselda was quite astonished. She
+had had no idea that her friend was so accomplished. It wasn't
+"cuckooing" at all; it was real singing, like that of the nightingale or
+the thrush, or like something prettier than either. It made Griselda
+think of woods in summer, and of tinkling brooks flowing<!-- Page 106 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> through them,
+with the pretty brown pebbles sparkling up through the water; and then
+it made her think of something sad&mdash;she didn't know what; perhaps it was
+of the babes in the wood and the robins covering them up with
+leaves&mdash;and then again, in a moment, it sounded as if all the merry
+elves and sprites that ever were heard of had escaped from fairyland,
+and were rolling over and over with peals of rollicking laughter. And at
+last, all of a sudden, the song came to an end.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" rang out three times, clear and shrill. The
+cuckoo flapped his wings, made a bow to the mandarins, and retired to
+his old corner.</p>
+
+<p>There was no buzz of talk, as is usual after a performance has come to a
+close, but there was a great buzz of nodding, and Griselda, wishing to
+give the cuckoo as much praise as she could, nodded as hard as any of
+them. The cuckoo really looked quite shy at receiving so much applause.
+But in a<!-- Page 107 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> minute or two the music struck up and the dancing began
+again&mdash;one, two, three: it seemed a sort of mazurka this time, which
+suited the mandarins very well, as it gave them a chance of nodding to
+mark the time.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda had once learnt the mazurka, so she got on even better than
+before&mdash;only she would have liked it more if her shoes had had sharper
+toes; they looked so stumpy when she tried to point them. All the same,
+it was very good fun, and she was not too well pleased when she suddenly
+felt the little sharp tap of the cuckoo on her head, and heard him
+whisper&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda, it's time to go."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, why?" she asked. "I'm not a bit tired. Why need we go yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"Obeying orders," said the cuckoo; and after that, Griselda dared not
+say another word. It was very nearly as bad as being told she had a
+great deal to learn.</p>
+
+<p>"Must I say good-bye to the king and all the people?" she inquired; but
+before the<!-- Page 108 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> cuckoo had time to answer, she gave a little squeal. "Oh,
+cuckoo," she cried, "you've trod on my foot."</p>
+
+<p>"I beg your pardon," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"I must take off my shoe; it does so hurt," she went on.</p>
+
+<p>"Take it off, then," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stooped to take off her shoe. "Are we going home in the
+pal&mdash;&mdash;?" she began to say; but she never finished the sentence, for
+just as she had got her shoe off she felt the cuckoo throw something
+round her. It was the feather mantle.</p>
+
+<p>And Griselda knew nothing more till she opened her eyes the next
+morning, and saw the first early rays of sunshine peeping in through the
+chinks of the closed shutters of her little bed-room.</p>
+
+<p>She rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. Could it have been a dream?</p>
+
+<p>"What could have made me fall asleep so all of a sudden?" she thought.
+"I wasn't the least sleepy at the mandarins' ball. What<!-- Page 109 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> fun it was! I
+believe that cuckoo made me fall asleep on purpose to make me fancy it
+was a dream. <i>Was</i> it a dream?"</p>
+
+<p>She began to feel confused and doubtful, when suddenly she felt
+something hurting her arm, like a little lump in the bed. She felt with
+her hand to see if she could smooth it away, and drew out&mdash;one of the
+shoes belonging to her court dress! The very one she had held in her
+hand at the moment the cuckoo spirited her home again to bed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Mr. Cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "you meant to play me a trick, but you
+haven't succeeded, you see."</p>
+
+<p>She jumped out of bed and unfastened one of the window-shutters, then
+jumped in again to admire the little shoe in comfort. It was even
+prettier than she had thought it at the ball. She held it up and looked
+at it. It was about the size of the first joint of her little finger.
+"To think that I should have been dancing with you on last night!" she
+said to the shoe. "And yet the cuckoo says<!-- Page 110 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> being big or little is all a
+matter of fancy. I wonder what he'll think of to amuse me next?"</p>
+
+<p>She was still holding up the shoe and admiring it when Dorcas came with
+the hot water.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, Dorcas," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Bless me, it's one of the shoes off the Chinese dolls in the saloon,"
+exclaimed the old servant. "How ever did you get that, missie? Your
+aunts wouldn't be pleased."</p>
+
+<p>"It just isn't one of the Chinese dolls' shoes, and if you don't believe
+me, you can go and look for yourself," said Griselda. "It's my very own
+shoe, and it was given me to my own self."</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas looked at her curiously, but said no more, only as she was going
+out of the room Griselda heard her saying something about "so very like
+Miss Sybilla."</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder what 'Miss Sybilla' <i>was</i> like?" thought Griselda. "I have a
+good mind to ask the cuckoo. He seems to have known her very well."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 111 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
+It was not for some days that Griselda had a chance of asking the cuckoo
+anything. She saw and heard nothing of him&mdash;nothing, that is to say, but
+his regular appearance to tell the hours as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," thought Griselda, "he thinks the mandarins' ball was fun
+enough to last me a good while. It really was very good-natured of him
+to take me to it, so I mustn't grumble."</p>
+
+<p>A few days after this poor Griselda caught cold. It was not a very bad
+cold, I must confess, but her aunts made rather a fuss about it. They
+wanted her to stay in bed, but to this Griselda so much objected that
+they did not insist upon it.</p>
+
+<p>"It would be so dull," she said piteously. "Please let me stay in the
+ante-room, for all my things are there; and, then, there's the cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Grizzel smiled at this, and Griselda got her way. But even in the
+ante-room it was rather dull. Miss Grizzel and Miss<!-- Page 112 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> Tabitha were obliged
+to go out, to drive all the way to Merrybrow Hall, as Lady Lavander sent
+a messenger to say that she had an attack of influenza, and wished to
+see her friends at once.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Tabitha began to cry&mdash;she was so tender-hearted.</p>
+
+<p>"Troubles never come singly," said Miss Grizzel, by way of consolation.</p>
+
+<p>"No, indeed, they never come singly," said Miss Tabitha, shaking her
+head and wiping her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>So off they set; and Griselda, in her arm-chair by the ante-room fire,
+with some queer little old-fashioned books of her aunts', which she had
+already read more than a dozen times, beside her by way of amusement,
+felt that there was one comfort in her troubles&mdash;she had escaped the
+long weary drive to her godmother's.</p>
+
+<p>But it was very dull. It got duller and duller. Griselda curled herself
+up in her chair, and wished she could go to sleep,<!-- Page 113 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> though feeling quite
+sure she couldn't, for she had stayed in bed much later than usual this
+morning, and had been obliged to spend the time in sleeping, for want of
+anything better to do.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up at the clock.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know even what to wish for," she said to herself. "I don't feel
+the least inclined to play at anything, and I shouldn't care to go to
+the mandarins again. Oh, cuckoo, cuckoo, I am so dull; couldn't you
+think of anything to amuse me?"</p>
+
+<p>It was not near "any o'clock." But after waiting a minute or two, it
+seemed to Griselda that she heard the soft sound of "coming" that always
+preceded the cuckoo's appearance. She was right. In another moment she
+heard his usual greeting, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come at last. I <i>am</i>
+so dull, and it has nothing to do with lessons this time. It's that I've
+got such a bad cold,<!-- Page 114 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> and my head's aching, and I'm so tired of reading,
+all by myself."</p>
+
+<p>"What would you like to do?" said the cuckoo. "You don't want to go to
+see the mandarins again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no; I couldn't dance."</p>
+
+<p>"Or the mermaids down under the sea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, no," said Griselda, with a little shiver, "it would be far
+too cold. I would just like to stay where I am, if some one would tell
+me stories. I'm not even sure that I could listen to stories. What could
+you do to amuse me, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to see some pictures?" said the cuckoo. "I could show
+you pictures without your taking any trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, that would be beautiful," cried Griselda. "What pictures will
+you show me? Oh, I know. I would like to see the place where you were
+born&mdash;where that very, very clever man made you and the clock, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Your great-great-grandfather," said the <!-- Page 115 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>cuckoo. "Very well. Now,
+Griselda, shut your eyes. First of all, I am going to sing."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda shut her eyes, and the cuckoo began his song. It was something
+like what he had sung at the mandarins' palace, only even more
+beautiful. It was so soft and dreamy, Griselda felt as if she could have
+sat there for ever, listening to it.</p>
+
+<p>The first notes were low and murmuring. Again they made Griselda think
+of little rippling brooks in summer, and now and then there came a sort
+of hum as of insects buzzing in the warm sunshine near. This humming
+gradually increased, till at last Griselda was conscious of nothing
+more&mdash;<i>everything</i> seemed to be humming, herself too, till at last she
+fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When she opened her eyes, the ante-room and everything in it, except the
+arm-chair on which she was still curled up, had disappeared&mdash;melted away
+into a misty cloud all round her, which in turn gradually faded, till
+before her she saw a scene quite new and<!-- Page 116 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> strange. It was the first of
+the cuckoo's "pictures."</p>
+
+<p>An old, quaint room, with a high, carved mantelpiece, and a bright fire
+sparkling in the grate. It was not a pretty room&mdash;it had more the look
+of a workshop of some kind; but it was curious and interesting. All
+round, the walls were hung with clocks and strange mechanical toys.
+There was a fiddler slowly fiddling, a gentleman and lady gravely
+dancing a minuet, a little man drawing up water in a bucket out of a
+glass vase in which gold fish were swimming about&mdash;all sorts of queer
+figures; and the clocks were even queerer. There was one intended to
+represent the sun, moon, and planets, with one face for the sun and
+another for the moon, and gold and silver stars slowly circling round
+them; there was another clock with a tiny trumpeter perched on a ledge
+above the face, who blew a horn for the hours. I cannot tell you half
+the strange and wonderful things there were.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 117 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
+Griselda was so interested in looking at all these queer machines, that
+she did not for some time observe the occupant of the room. And no
+wonder; he was sitting in front of a little table, so perfectly still,
+much more still than the un-living figures around him. He was examining,
+with a magnifying glass, some small object he held in his hand, so
+closely and intently that Griselda, forgetting she was only looking at a
+"picture," almost held her breath for fear she should disturb him. He
+was a very old man, his coat was worn and threadbare in several places,
+looking as if he spent a great part of his life in one position. Yet he
+did not look <i>poor</i>, and his face, when at last he lifted it, was mild
+and intelligent and very earnest.</p>
+
+<p>While Griselda was watching him closely there came a soft tap at the
+door, and <a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a>a little girl danced into the room. The dearest little girl
+you ever saw, and <i>so</i> funnily dressed! Her thick brown hair, rather
+lighter than Griselda's, was tied in two long plaits down<!-- Page 118 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> her back. She
+had a short red skirt with silver braid round the bottom, and a white
+chemisette with beautiful lace at the throat and wrists, and over that
+again a black velvet bodice, also trimmed with silver. And she had a
+great many trinkets, necklaces, and bracelets, and ear-rings, and a sort
+of little silver coronet; no, it was not like a coronet, it was a band
+with a square piece of silver fastened so as to stand up at each side of
+her head something like a horse's blinkers, only they were not placed
+over her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>She made quite a jingle as she came into the room, and the old man
+looked up with a smile of pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my darling, and are you all ready for your <i>f&ecirc;te</i>?" he said; and
+though the language in which he spoke was quite strange to Griselda, she
+understood his meaning perfectly well.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear grandfather; and isn't my dress lovely?" said the child. "I
+should be <i>so</i><!-- Page 119 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> happy if only you were coming too, and would get yourself
+a beautiful velvet coat like Mynheer van Huyten."</p>
+
+<p>The old man shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"I have no time for such things, my darling," he replied; "and besides,
+I am too old. I must work&mdash;work hard to make money for my pet when I am
+gone, that she may not be dependent on the bounty of those English
+sisters."</p>
+
+<p>"But I won't care for money when you are gone, grandfather," said the
+child, her eyes filling with tears. "I would rather just go on living in
+this little house, and I am sure the neighbours would give me something
+to eat, and then I could hear all your clocks ticking, and think of you.
+I don't want you to sell all your wonderful things for money for me,
+grandfather. They would remind me of you, and money wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Not all, Sybilla, not all," said the old man. "The best of all, the
+<i>chef-d'&oelig;uvre</i> of my life, shall not be sold. It shall be yours,
+and<!-- Page 120 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> you will have in your possession a clock that crowned heads might
+seek in vain to purchase."</p>
+
+<p>His dim old eyes brightened, and for a moment he sat erect and strong.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean the cuckoo clock?" said Sybilla, in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my darling, the cuckoo clock, the crowning work of my life&mdash;a
+clock that shall last long after I, and perhaps thou, my pretty child,
+are crumbling into dust; a clock that shall last to tell my
+great-grandchildren to many generations that the old Dutch mechanic was
+not altogether to be despised."</p>
+
+<p>Sybilla sprang into his arms.</p>
+
+<p>"You are not to talk like that, little grandfather," she said. "I shall
+teach my children and my grandchildren to be so proud of you&mdash;oh, so
+proud!&mdash;as proud as I am of you, little grandfather."</p>
+
+<p>"Gently, my darling," said the old man, as he placed carefully on the
+table the delicate piece of mechanism he held in his hand, and<!-- Page 121 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> tenderly
+embraced the child. "Kiss me once again, my pet, and then thou must go;
+thy little friends will be waiting."</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>As he said these words the mist slowly gathered again before Griselda's
+eyes&mdash;the first of the cuckoo's pictures faded from her sight.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>When she looked again the scene was changed, but this time it was not a
+strange one, though Griselda had gazed at it for some moments before she
+recognized it. It was the great saloon, but it looked very different
+from what she had ever seen it. Forty years or so make a difference in
+rooms as well as in people!</p>
+
+<p>The faded yellow damask hangings were rich and brilliant. There were
+bouquets of lovely flowers arranged about the tables; wax lights were
+sending out their brightness in every direction, and the room was<!-- Page 122 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> filled
+with ladies and gentlemen in gay attire.</p>
+
+<p>Among them, after a time, Griselda remarked two ladies, no longer very
+young, but still handsome and stately, and something whispered to her
+that they were her two aunts, Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor aunts!" she said softly to herself; "how old they have grown since
+then."</p>
+
+<p>But she did not long look at them; her attention was attracted by a much
+younger lady&mdash;a mere girl she seemed, but oh, so sweet and pretty! She
+was dancing with a gentleman whose eyes looked as if they saw no one
+else, and she herself seemed brimming over with youth and happiness. Her
+very steps had joy in them.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Griselda," whispered a voice, which she knew was the cuckoo's;
+"so you don't like to be told you are like your grandmother, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Griselda turned round sharply to look for the speaker, but he was not to
+be seen. And<!-- Page 123 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> when she turned again, the picture of the great saloon had
+faded away.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>One more picture.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda looked again. She saw before her a country road in full summer
+time; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the trees covered
+with their bright green leaves&mdash;everything appeared happy and joyful.
+But at last in the distance she saw, slowly approaching, a group of a
+few people, all walking together, carrying in their centre something
+long and narrow, which, though the black cloth covering it was almost
+hidden by the white flowers with which it was thickly strewn, Griselda
+knew to be a coffin.</p>
+
+<p>It was a funeral procession, and in the place of chief mourner, with
+pale, set face, walked the same young man whom Griselda had last seen
+dancing with the girl Sybilla in the great saloon.</p>
+
+<p>The sad group passed slowly out of sight; but as it disappeared there
+fell upon the ear<!-- Page 124 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> the sounds of sweet music, lovelier far than she had
+heard before&mdash;lovelier than the magic cuckoo's most lovely songs&mdash;and
+somehow, in the music, it seemed to the child's fancy there were mingled
+the soft strains of a woman's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Sybilla singing," thought Griselda dreamily, and with that she
+fell asleep again.</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>When she woke she was in the arm-chair by the ante-room fire, everything
+around her looking just as usual, the cuckoo clock ticking away calmly
+and regularly. Had it been a dream only? Griselda could not make up her
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>"But I don't see that it matters if it was," she said to herself. "If it
+was a dream, the cuckoo sent it to me all the same, and I thank you very
+much indeed, cuckoo," she went on, looking up at the clock. "The last
+picture was rather sad, but still it was very nice to see it, and I
+thank you very much,<!-- Page 125 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> and I'll never say again that I don't like to be
+told I'm like my dear pretty grandmother."</p>
+
+<p>The cuckoo took no notice of what she said, but Griselda did not mind.
+She was getting used to his "ways."</p>
+
+<p>"I expect he hears me quite well," she thought; "and even if he doesn't,
+it's only civil to <i>try</i> to thank him."</p>
+
+<p>She sat still contentedly enough, thinking over what she had seen, and
+trying to make more "pictures" for herself in the fire. Then there came
+faintly to her ears the sound of carriage wheels, opening and shutting
+of doors, a little bustle of arrival.</p>
+
+<p>"My aunts must have come back," thought Griselda; and so it was. In a
+few minutes Miss Grizzel, closely followed by Miss Tabitha, appeared at
+the ante-room door.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my love," said Miss Grizzel anxiously, "and how are you? Has the
+time seemed very long while we were away?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 126 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
+"Oh no, thank you, Aunt Grizzel," replied Griselda, "not at all. I've
+been quite happy, and my cold's ever so much better, and my headache's
+<i>quite</i> gone."</p>
+
+<p>"Come, that is good news," said Miss Grizzel. "Not that I'm exactly
+<i>surprised</i>," she continued, turning to Miss Tabitha, "for there really
+is nothing like tansy tea for a feverish cold."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing," agreed Miss Tabitha; "there really is nothing like it."</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, after a few moments' silence, "was my
+grandmother quite young when she died?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, my love, very young," replied Miss Grizzel with a change in her
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>"And was her husband <i>very</i> sorry?" pursued Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Heart-broken," said Miss Grizzel. "He did not live long after, and then
+you know, my dear, your father was sent to us to take care of. And now
+he has sent <i>you</i>&mdash;the third generation of young creatures confided to
+our care."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 127 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
+"Yes," said Griselda. "My grandmother died in the summer, when all the
+flowers were out; and she was buried in a pretty country place, wasn't
+she?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Miss Grizzel, looking rather bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"And when she was a little girl she lived with her grandfather, the old
+Dutch mechanic," continued Griselda, unconsciously using the very words
+she had heard in her vision. "He was a nice old man; and how clever of
+him to have made the cuckoo clock, and such lots of other pretty,
+wonderful things. I don't wonder little Sybilla loved him; he was so
+good to her. But, oh, Aunt Grizzel, <i>how</i> pretty she was when she was a
+young lady! That time that she danced with my grandfather in the great
+saloon. And how very nice you and Aunt Tabitha looked then, too."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel held her very breath in astonishment; and no doubt if Miss
+Tabitha had known she was doing so, she would have held<!-- Page 128 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> hers too. But
+Griselda lay still, gazing at the fire, quite unconscious of her aunt's
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Your papa told you all these old stories, I suppose, my dear," said
+Miss Grizzel at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Griselda dreamily. "Papa never told me anything like that.
+Dorcas told me a very little, I think; at least, she made me want to
+know, and I asked the cuckoo, and then, you see, he showed me it all. It
+was so pretty."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel glanced at her sister.</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha, my dear," she said in a low voice, "do you hear?"</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Tabitha, who really was not very deaf when she set herself to
+hear, nodded in awe-struck silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha," continued Miss Grizzel in the same tone, "it is wonderful!
+Ah, yes, how true it is, Tabitha, that 'there are more things in heaven
+and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy'" (for Miss Grizzel was a
+well-read old lady, you see); "and from the<!-- Page 129 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> very first, Tabitha, we
+always had a feeling that the child was strangely like Sybilla."</p>
+
+<p>"Strangely like Sybilla," echoed Miss Tabitha.</p>
+
+<p>"May she grow up as good, if not quite as beautiful&mdash;<i>that</i> we could
+scarcely expect; and may she be longer spared to those that love her,"
+added Miss Grizzel, bending over Griselda, while two or three tears
+slowly trickled down her aged cheeks. "See, Tabitha, the dear child is
+fast asleep. How sweet she looks! I trust by to-morrow morning she will
+be quite herself again; her cold is so much better.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus129.png" width="200" height="206" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 130 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI<br />
+RUBBED THE WRONG WAY</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus034a.png" width="700" height="327" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"For now and then there comes a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When everything goes wrong."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/g.png" width="195" height="200" alt="G" title="" />
+</div><p>riselda's cold <i>was</i> much better by "to-morrow morning." In fact, I
+might almost say it was quite well.</p>
+
+<p>But Griselda herself did not feel quite well, and saying this reminds me
+that it is hardly sense to speak of a <i>cold</i> being better or well&mdash;for a
+cold's being "well" means that it is not there at all, out of existence,
+in short, and if a thing is out of existence how can we say anything
+about it?<!-- Page 131 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> Children, I feel quite in a hobble&mdash;I cannot get my mind
+straight about it&mdash;please think it over and give me your opinion. In the
+meantime, I will go on about Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>She felt just a little ill&mdash;a sort of feeling that sometimes is rather
+nice, sometimes "very extremely" much the reverse! She felt in the
+humour for being petted, and having beef-tea, and jelly, and sponge cake
+with her tea, and for a day or two this was all very well. She <i>was</i>
+petted, and she had lots of beef-tea, and jelly, and grapes, and sponge
+cakes, and everything nice, for her aunts, as you must have seen by this
+time, were really very, very kind to her in every way in which they
+understood how to be so.</p>
+
+<p>But after a few days of the continued petting, and the beef-tea and the
+jelly and all the rest of it, it occurred to Miss Grizzel, who had a
+good large bump of "common sense," that it might be possible to overdo
+this sort of thing.</p>
+
+<p>"Tabitha," she said to her sister, when they were sitting together in
+the evening after<!-- Page 132 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> Griselda had gone to bed, "Tabitha, my dear, I think
+the child is quite well again now. It seems to me it would be well to
+send a note to good Mr. Kneebreeches, to say that she will be able to
+resume her studies the day after to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"The day after to-morrow," repeated Miss Tabitha. "The day after
+to-morrow&mdash;to say that she will be able to resume her studies the day
+after to-morrow&mdash;oh yes, certainly. It would be very well to send a note
+to good Mr. Kneebreeches, my dear Grizzel."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you would agree with me," said Miss Grizzel, with a sigh of
+relief (as if poor Miss Tabitha during all the last half-century had
+ever ventured to do anything else), getting up to fetch her writing
+materials as she spoke. "It is such a satisfaction to consult together
+about what we do. I was only a little afraid of being hard upon the
+child, but as you agree with me, I have no longer any misgiving."</p>
+
+<p>"Any misgiving, oh dear, no!" said Miss<!-- Page 133 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> Tabitha. "You have no reason for
+any misgiving, I am sure, my dear Grizzel."</p>
+
+<p>So the note was written and despatched, and the next morning when, about
+twelve o'clock, Griselda made her appearance in the little drawing-room
+where her aunts usually sat, looking, it must be confessed, very plump
+and rosy for an invalid, Miss Grizzel broached the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"I have written to request Mr. Kneebreeches to resume his instructions
+to-morrow," she said quietly. "I think you are quite well again now, so
+Dorcas must wake you at your usual hour."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda had been settling herself comfortably on a corner of the sofa.
+She had got a nice book to read, which her father, hearing of her
+illness, had sent her by post, and she was looking forward to the
+tempting plateful of jelly which Dorcas had brought her for luncheon
+every day since she had been ill. Altogether, she was feeling very
+"lazy-easy" and contented. Her aunt's announcement <!-- Page 134 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>felt like a sudden
+downpour of cold water, or rush of east wind. She sat straight up in her
+sofa, and exclaimed in a tone of great annoyance&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Oh</i>, Aunt Grizzel!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel, placidly.</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't make me begin lessons again just yet. I <i>know</i>
+they'll make my head ache again, and Mr. Kneebreeches will be <i>so</i>
+cross. I know he will, and he is so horrid when he is cross."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said Miss Grizzel, holding up her hand in a way that reminded
+Griselda of the cuckoo's favourite "obeying orders." Just then, too, in
+the distance the ante-room clock struck twelve. "Cuckoo! cuckoo!
+cuckoo!" on it went. Griselda could have stamped with irritation, but
+<i>somehow</i>, in spite of herself, she felt compelled to say nothing. She
+muttered some not very pretty words, coiled herself round on the sofa,
+opened her book, and began to read.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 135 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
+But it was not as interesting as she had expected. She had not read many
+pages before she began to yawn, and she was delighted to be interrupted
+by Dorcas and the jelly.</p>
+
+<p>But the jelly was not as nice as she had expected, either. She tasted
+it, and thought it was too sweet; and when she tasted it again, it
+seemed too strong of cinnamon; and the third taste seemed too strong of
+everything. She laid down her spoon, and looked about her
+discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel. "Is the jelly not to
+your liking?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Griselda shortly. She ate a few spoonfuls, and then
+took up her book again. Miss Grizzel said nothing more, but to herself
+she thought that Mr. Kneebreeches had not been recalled any too soon.</p>
+
+<p>All day long it was much the same. Nothing seemed to come right to
+Griselda. It was a dull, cold day, what is called "a black frost"; not a
+bright, clear, <i>pretty</i>, cold day, but the sort of frost that really
+makes the world seem <!-- Page 136 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>dead&mdash;makes it almost impossible to believe that
+there will ever be warmth and sound and "growing-ness" again.</p>
+
+<p>Late in the afternoon Griselda crept up to the ante-room, and sat down
+by the window. Outside it was nearly dark, and inside it was not much
+more cheerful&mdash;for the fire was nearly out, and no lamps were lighted;
+only the cuckoo clock went on tick-ticking briskly as usual.</p>
+
+<p>"I hate winter," said Griselda, pressing her cold little face against
+the colder window-pane, "I hate winter, and I hate lessons. I would give
+up being a <i>person</i> in a minute if I might be a&mdash;a&mdash;what would I best
+like to be? Oh yes, I know&mdash;a butterfly. Butterflies never see winter,
+and they <i>certainly</i> never have any lessons or any kind of work to do. I
+hate <i>must</i>-ing to do anything."</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," rang out suddenly above her head. It was only four o'clock
+striking, and as soon as he had told it the cuckoo was back behind his
+doors again in an instant, just as <!-- Page 137 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>usual. There was nothing for Griselda
+to feel offended at, but somehow she got quite angry.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care what you think, cuckoo!" she exclaimed defiantly. "I know
+you came out on purpose just now, but I don't care. I <i>do</i> hate winter,
+and I <i>do</i> hate lessons, and I <i>do</i> think it would be nicer to be a
+butterfly than a little girl."</p>
+
+<p>In her secret heart I fancy she was half in hopes that the cuckoo would
+come out again, and talk things over with her. Even if he were to scold
+her, she felt that it would be better than sitting there alone with
+nobody to speak to, which was very dull work indeed. At the bottom of
+her conscience there lurked the knowledge that what she <i>should</i> be
+doing was to be looking over her last lessons with Mr. Kneebreeches, and
+refreshing her memory for the next day; but, alas! knowing one's duty is
+by no means the same thing as doing it, and Griselda sat on by the
+window doing nothing but grumble and work herself up into<!-- Page 138 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> a belief that
+she was one of the most-to-be-pitied little girls in all the world. So
+that by the time Dorcas came to call her to tea, I doubt if she had a
+single pleasant thought or feeling left in her heart.</p>
+
+<p>Things grew no better after tea, and before long Griselda asked if she
+might go to bed. She was "so tired," she said; and she certainly looked
+so, for ill-humour and idleness are excellent "tirers," and will soon
+take the roses out of a child's cheeks, and the brightness out of her
+eyes. She held up her face to be kissed by her aunts in a meekly
+reproachful way, which made the old ladies feel quite uncomfortable.</p>
+
+<p>"I am by no means sure that I have done right in recalling Mr.
+Kneebreeches so soon, Sister Tabitha," remarked Miss Grizzel, uneasily,
+when Griselda had left the room. But Miss Tabitha was busy counting her
+stitches, and did not give full attention to Miss Grizzel's observation,
+so she just repeated placidly, "Oh yes, Sister Grizzel, you<!-- Page 139 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> may be sure
+you have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you think so," said Miss Grizzel, with again a little sigh of
+relief. "I was only distressed to see the child looking so white and
+tired,"</p>
+
+<p>Upstairs Griselda was hurry-scurrying into bed. There was a lovely fire
+in her room&mdash;fancy that! Was she not a poor neglected little creature?
+But even this did not please her. She was too cross to be pleased with
+anything; too cross to wash her face and hands, or let Dorcas brush her
+hair out nicely as usual; too cross, alas, to say her prayers! She just
+huddled into bed, huddling up her mind in an untidy hurry and confusion,
+just as she left her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. She would
+not look into herself, was the truth of it; she shrank from doing so
+because she <i>knew</i> things had been going on in that silly little heart
+of hers in a most unsatisfactory way all day, and she wanted to go to
+sleep and forget all about it.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 140 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
+She did go to sleep, very quickly too. No doubt she really was tired;
+tired with crossness and doing nothing, and she slept very soundly. When
+she woke up she felt so refreshed and rested that she fancied it must be
+morning. It was dark, of course, but that was to be expected in
+mid-winter, especially as the shutters were closed.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder," thought Griselda, "I wonder if it really <i>is</i> morning. I
+should like to get up early&mdash;I went so early to bed. I think I'll just
+jump out of bed and open a chink of the shutters. I'll see at once if
+it's nearly morning, by the look of the sky."</p>
+
+<p>She was up in a minute, feeling her way across the room to the window,
+and without much difficulty she found the hook of the shutters,
+unfastened it, and threw one side open. Ah no, there was no sign of
+morning to be seen. There was moonlight, but nothing else, and not so
+very much of that, for the clouds were hurrying across the "orb&ecirc;d
+maiden's" face at such a rate, one after the<!-- Page 141 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> other, that the light was
+more like a number of pale flashes than the steady, cold shining of most
+frosty moonlight nights. There was going to be a change of weather, and
+the cloud armies were collecting together from all quarters; that was
+the real explanation of the hurrying and skurrying Griselda saw
+overhead, but this, of course, she did not understand. She only saw that
+it looked wild and stormy, and she shivered a little, partly with cold,
+partly with a half-frightened feeling that she could not have explained.</p>
+
+<p>"I had better go back to bed," she said to herself; "but I am not a bit
+sleepy."</p>
+
+<p>She was just drawing-to the shutter again, when something caught her
+eye, and she stopped short in surprise. A little bird was outside on the
+window-sill&mdash;a tiny bird crouching in close to the cold glass.
+Griselda's kind heart was touched in an instant. Cold as she was, she
+pushed back the shutter again, and drawing a chair forward to the
+window, managed to unfasten it&mdash;it was not a very <!-- Page 142 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>heavy one&mdash;and to open
+it wide enough to slip her hand gently along to the bird. It did not
+start or move.</p>
+
+<p>"Can it be dead?" thought Griselda anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>But no, it was not dead. It let her put her hand round it and draw it
+in, and to her delight she felt that it was soft and warm, and it even
+gave a gentle peck on her thumb.</p>
+
+<p>"Poor little bird, how cold you must be," she said kindly. But, to her
+amazement, no sooner was the bird safely inside the room, than it
+managed cleverly to escape from her hand. It fluttered quietly up on to
+her shoulder, and sang out in a soft but cheery tone, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo&mdash;cold, did you say, Griselda? Not so very, thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stept back from the window.</p>
+
+<p>"It's <i>you</i>, is it?" she said rather surlily, her tone seeming to infer
+that she had taken a great deal of trouble for nothing.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course it is, and why shouldn't it be? <!-- Page 143 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>You're not generally so sorry
+to see me. What's the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing's the matter," replied Griselda, feeling a little ashamed of
+her want of civility; "only, you see, if I had known it was <i>you</i>&mdash;&mdash;"
+She hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't have clambered up and hurt your poor fingers in opening
+the window if you had known it was me&mdash;is that it, eh?" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, when the cuckoo said "eh?" like that, Griselda was obliged to
+tell just what she was thinking.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I wouldn't have <i>needed</i> to open the window," she said. "<i>You</i> can
+get in or out whenever you like; you're not like a real bird. Of course,
+you were just tricking me, sitting out there and pretending to be a
+starved robin."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little indignation in her voice, and she gave her head a
+toss, which nearly upset the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed the cuckoo. <!-- Page 144 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>"You have a great deal to
+complain of, Griselda. Your time and strength must be very valuable for
+you to regret so much having wasted a little of them on me."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda felt her face grow red. What did he mean? Did he know how
+yesterday had been spent? She said nothing, but she drooped her head,
+and one or two tears came slowly creeping up to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Child!" said the cuckoo, suddenly changing his tone, "you are very
+foolish. Is a kind thought or action <i>ever</i> wasted? Can your eyes see
+what such good seeds grow into? They have wings, Griselda&mdash;kindnesses
+have wings and roots, remember that&mdash;wings that never droop, and roots
+that never die. What do you think I came and sat outside your window
+for?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," said Griselda humbly, "I am very sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said the cuckoo, "we'll leave it for the present. I have
+something else to see about. Are you cold, Griselda?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 145 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
+"<i>Very</i>," she replied. "I would very much like to go back to bed,
+cuckoo, if you please; and there's plenty of room for you too, if you'd
+like to come in and get warm."</p>
+
+<p>"There are other ways of getting warm besides going to bed," said the
+cuckoo. "A nice brisk walk, for instance. I was going to ask you to come
+out into the garden with me."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda almost screamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Out into the garden! <i>Oh</i>, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "how can you think
+of such a thing? Such a freezing cold night. Oh no, indeed, cuckoo, I
+couldn't possibly."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, Griselda," said the cuckoo; "if you haven't yet learnt to
+trust me, there's no more to be said. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>He flapped his wings, cried out "Cuckoo" once only, flew across the
+room, and almost before Griselda understood what he was doing, had
+disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>She hurried after him, stumbling against the furniture in her haste, and
+by the uncertain <!-- Page 146 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>light. The door was not open, but the cuckoo had got
+through it&mdash;"by the keyhole, I dare say," thought Griselda; "he can
+'scrooge' himself up any way"&mdash;for a faint "Cuckoo" was to be heard on
+its other side. In a moment Griselda had opened it, and was speeding
+down the long passage in the dark, guided only by the voice from time to
+time heard before her, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>She forgot all about the cold, or rather, she did not feel it, though
+the floor was of uncarpeted old oak, whose hard, polished surface would
+have usually felt like ice to a child's soft, bare feet. It was a very
+long passage, and to-night, somehow, it seemed longer than ever. In
+fact, Griselda could have fancied she had been running along it for half
+a mile or more, when at last she was brought to a standstill by finding
+she could go no further. Where was she? She could not imagine! It must
+be a part of the house she had never explored in the daytime, she
+decided. In front of her was a little stair running downwards, <!-- Page 147 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>and
+ending in a doorway. All this Griselda could see by a bright light that
+streamed in by the keyhole and through the chinks round the door&mdash;a
+light so brilliant that the little girl blinked her eyes, and for a
+moment felt quite dazzled and confused.</p>
+
+<p>"It came so suddenly," she said to herself; "some one must have lighted
+a lamp in there all at once. But it can't be a lamp, it's too bright for
+a lamp. It's more like the sun; but how ever could the sun be shining in
+a room in the middle of the night? What shall I do? Shall I open the
+door and peep in?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," came the answer, soft but clear, from the other side.</p>
+
+<p>"Can it be a trick of the cuckoo's to get me out into the garden?"
+thought Griselda; and for the first time since she had run out of her
+room a shiver of cold made her teeth chatter and her skin feel creepy.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," sounded again, nearer this time, it seemed to
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 148 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
+"He's waiting for me. I <i>will</i> trust him," she said resolutely. "He has
+always been good and kind, and it's horrid of me to think he's going to
+trick me."</p>
+
+<p>She ran down the little stair, she seized the handle of the door. It
+turned easily; the door opened&mdash;opened, and closed again noiselessly
+behind her, and what do you think she saw?</p>
+
+<p>"Shut your eyes for a minute, Griselda," said the cuckoo's voice beside
+her; "the light will dazzle you at first. Shut them, and I will brush
+them with a little daisy dew, to strengthen them."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda did as she was told. She felt the tip of the cuckoo's softest
+feather pass gently two or three times over her eyelids, and a delicious
+scent seemed immediately to float before her.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know <i>daisies</i> had any scent," she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you didn't. You forget, Griselda, that you have a great&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 149 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
+"Oh, please don't, cuckoo. Please, please don't, <i>dear</i> cuckoo," she
+exclaimed, dancing about with her hands clasped in entreaty, but her
+eyes still firmly closed. "Don't say that, and I'll promise to believe
+whatever you tell me. And how soon may I open my eyes, please, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Turn round slowly, three times. That will give the dew time to take
+effect," said the cuckoo. "Here goes&mdash;one&mdash;two&mdash;three. There, now."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus001.png" width="300" height="282" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 150 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII<br />
+BUTTERFLY-LAND</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus243.png" width="700" height="295" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I'd be a butterfly."</span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/g.png" width="195" height="200" alt="G" title="" />
+</div><p>riselda opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>What did she see?</p>
+
+<p>The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyes
+saw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to your
+fancy. It was just a <i>delicious</i> garden.</p>
+
+<p>There was a charming mixture of all that is needed to make a garden
+perfect&mdash;grass, velvety lawn rather; water, for a little brook ran
+tinkling in and out, playing bopeep among the bushes; trees, of course,
+and <!-- Page 151 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>flowers, of course, flowers of every shade and shape. But all these
+beautiful things Griselda did not at first give as much attention to as
+they deserved; her eyes were so occupied with a quite unusual sight that
+met them.</p>
+
+<p>This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon; but
+butterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none of
+you ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers of
+them, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They were
+fluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on the
+lovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissed
+her poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warm
+embrace. Then she turned to her little friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you <i>so</i> much. This <i>is</i> fairyland, at
+last!"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 152 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
+The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure of
+speech only, would it not? He shook his head gently.</p>
+
+<p>"No, Griselda," he said kindly; "this is only butterfly-land."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Butterfly</i>-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment in
+her tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday,
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Griselda did not particularly like these allusions to "yesterday." She
+thought it would be as well to change the subject.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure,
+cuckoo, I'm <i>very</i> much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may I
+run about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warm
+sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes and
+fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again.
+I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be a
+butterfly;<!-- Page 153 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about."</p>
+
+<p>She stopped at last, quite out of breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions,
+you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look at
+everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. You
+will make a great many mistakes if you are&mdash;you have made some already."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Have</i> the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda watched.</p>
+
+<p>"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't
+think what. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flying
+away something like bees gathering honey. <i>Butterflies</i> don't gather
+honey, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>do</i> you mean?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 154 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
+"Come and see," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through the
+prettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged in
+different colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing along
+their sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another in
+regular order&mdash;from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damask
+crimson; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grass
+forget-me-not to the rich warm tinge of the brilliant cornflower.
+<i>Every</i> tint was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange to
+her, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see,
+had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as she
+had never done before.</p>
+
+<p>"How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Is
+it just to look pretty, or why?"</p>
+
+<p>"It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterflies
+know exactly <!-- Page 155 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painters
+want."</p>
+
+<p>"Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are the
+world-flower-painters?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo.
+"It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularly
+relishing the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and as
+she and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys, she saw that
+the butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little parties
+of twos and threes, and nibbled away, as she called it, at flowers of
+the same colour but different shades, till they had got what they
+wanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint of
+maize, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followed by
+No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing up the
+rear.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 156 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
+Griselda gave a little sigh.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy tone.</p>
+
+<p>"It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily.</p>
+
+<p>After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to the
+garden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out of
+which butterflies were incessantly flying&mdash;reminding Griselda again of
+bees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>"Come in," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in without
+knocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass of
+butterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while she
+saw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were all
+settled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was a
+tiny object about the size of a flattened-out<!-- Page 157 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> pin's head, which he was
+most carefully painting with one of his tentacles, which, from time to
+time, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waiting
+patiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, who
+after a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away.</p>
+
+<p>"To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to read
+Griselda's thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>"But what <i>are</i> they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, and
+spring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months of
+summer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray ones
+now and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idle
+butterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go up
+to take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, and
+many a damaged petal they repair, or touch up<!-- Page 158 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> a faded tint, though no
+one ever knows it."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle
+butterflies again&mdash;never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers
+<i>here</i>, too? What a <i>fearful</i> lot they must have to do!"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They
+never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours
+of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course
+they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight
+contemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly
+things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to
+my thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsy way."</p>
+
+<p>"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are
+asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic<!-- Page 159 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> stuff, you see,
+which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are
+usually, Griselda, you couldn't even <i>see</i> the petals the butterflies
+are painting now."</p>
+
+<p>"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."</p>
+
+<p>"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to
+say more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!</p>
+
+<p>"Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Not so very," replied Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't
+know that you'd be much the better for dinner here."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner?
+Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of
+course&mdash;I don't think I should care to eat it alone."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 160 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
+"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was
+interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall,
+and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They
+fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about
+something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.</p>
+
+<p>"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda.
+"They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a
+banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."</p>
+
+<p>"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear
+me," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting,
+cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown.
+I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights."</p>
+
+<p>He flew off, and was back almost immediately, <!-- Page 161 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>followed by a whole flock
+of butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hitherto
+seen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow.
+They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were really
+going to be suffocated by them, but only for a moment. There seemed a
+great buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to work
+to <i>dress</i> her. And how do you think they dressed her? With
+<i>themselves</i>! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverest
+way. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem of her little
+night-gown, making a thick "<i>ruche</i>," as it were; and then there came
+two or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round her
+waist they made the loveliest belt of mingled blue and yellow, and all
+over the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty white
+frills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselves
+into fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, <!-- Page 162 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>rosettes&mdash;I
+cannot tell you what they did not imitate.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the prettiest ornament of all was the coronet or wreath they
+made of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair too
+with butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she moved
+about. No one would have known Griselda; she <i>looked</i> like a fairy
+queen, or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what
+looked like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will
+understand, were only a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes
+were soleless.</p>
+
+<p>"Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blue
+and every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda,
+come and look at yourself."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 163 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus163.jpg"><img src="images/illus163-thumb.jpg"
+width="221" height="300"
+alt="SHE PEERED IN WITH GREAT SATISFACTION" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">she peered in with great satisfaction</span>
+</div>
+<p><!-- Page 164 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 165 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
+He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one of
+the tinkling brooks that were to be found everywhere about the garden,
+and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather;</p>
+<p>but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with great
+satisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over one
+shoulder, then over the other.</p>
+
+<p>"It <i>is</i> lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking&mdash;how
+shall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "the
+butterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't suppose
+you are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?"</p>
+
+<p>Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather
+"gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies could
+take care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sort
+of banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-looking
+plant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmost
+leaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat two
+magnificent butterflies. <!-- Page 166 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>They were many times larger than any Griselda
+had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside
+them, and they were <i>so</i> beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed.
+You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest
+movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite
+than the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying
+that they were like living rainbows.</p>
+
+<p>"Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?"</p>
+
+<p>"I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do they
+never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping at
+conclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in
+butterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any other
+butterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of<!-- Page 167 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> all the others,
+as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all the
+world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on
+the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But even
+now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and
+choose all the new colours."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be."</p>
+
+<p>Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent
+wings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air.</p>
+
+<p>"Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In a
+minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically
+circling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda's little
+hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost<!-- Page 168 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> covering her
+fingers with their great dazzling wings.</p>
+
+<p>"You <i>do</i> look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps and
+looking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast to
+begin, as it won't do for us to be late."</p>
+
+<p>The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away from
+Griselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a
+beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew
+the large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for no
+sooner were they in their places than butterflies of every kind and
+colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterflies
+small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark;
+butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour&mdash;<i>every</i> colour, and
+far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.</p>
+
+<p>They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, and
+in another minute a number of small white butterflies<!-- Page 169 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> appeared, carrying
+among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a drop of
+liquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to the
+queen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then passed
+it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were handed to
+them, which they again passed on.</p>
+
+<p>"What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not <i>eating</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any other
+kind of food than a sniff of perfume; and as there are perfumes
+extracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far more
+flowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allow
+there is plenty of variety of dishes."</p>
+
+<p>"Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo,
+it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent on
+my pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my handkerchief
+<!-- Page 170 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
+here, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was under my pillow,
+and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter, for the hook
+scratched it once."</p>
+
+<p>"You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but not
+more. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy."</p>
+
+<p>But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all the
+petals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly,
+but there were such quantities of them&mdash;double quantities in honour of
+the guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her handkerchief into a tight
+little ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it,
+and then she kept sniffing at it impatiently, till at last the cuckoo
+asked her what was the matter.</p>
+
+<p>"I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else,
+cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>"It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. <!-- Page 171 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>"But see, Griselda, they
+are going to have an air-dance now."</p>
+
+<p>"What's that?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Look, and you'll see," he replied.</p>
+
+<p>Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air,
+and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours.</p>
+
+<p>"Come up to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see them
+better."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down on
+the butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings of
+butterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way,
+like ribbons of every hue plaiting themselves and then in an instant
+unplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselves
+in the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted and
+untwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies.</p>
+
+<p>"It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like those
+twisty-twirly dissolving <!-- Page 172 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>views that papa took me to see once. It's
+<i>just</i> like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all on
+purpose to please me?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud three
+times, to show them you're pleased."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one&mdash;all the butterflies rose up into the
+air in a cloud; clap number two&mdash;they all fluttered and twirled and
+buzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three&mdash;they
+all turned in Griselda's direction with a rush.</p>
+
+<p>"They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloud
+of butterflies, fluttering, <i>rushing</i> down upon her.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she screamed, "they'll suffocate me. Oh, cuckoo!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out the
+cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 173 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
+And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious
+handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry,
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p><i>Clap</i>&mdash;where were they all?</p>
+
+<p>Griselda opened her eyes&mdash;garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had
+disappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with
+the hot water.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning,
+missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up."</p>
+
+<p>"Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morning
+ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute,
+Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What do
+you think of that?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottle
+on your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; <!-- Page 174 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>"it's scent of my own, Dorcas.
+Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please give
+me my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr.
+Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as she was
+putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the blue
+butterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I
+don't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how
+hard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'll
+please the dear old cuckoo."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus033.png" width="276" height="200" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 175 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII<br />
+MASTER PHIL</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus076a.png" width="700" height="328" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Who comes from the world of flowers?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Daisy and crocus, and sea-blue bell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And violet shrinking in dewy cell&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sly cells that know the secrets of night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When earth is bathed in fairy light&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Scarlet, and blue, and golden flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/a.png" width="191" height="200" alt="A" title="" />
+</div><p>nd so Mr. Kneebreeches had no reason to complain of his pupil that day.</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Grizzel congratulated herself more heartily than ever on her
+wise management of children.</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Tabitha repeated that Sister Grizzel might indeed congratulate
+herself.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 176 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
+And Griselda became gradually more and more convinced that the only way
+as yet discovered of getting through hard tasks is to set to work and do
+them; also, that grumbling, as things are at present arranged in this
+world, does not <i>always</i>, nor I may say <i>often</i>, do good; furthermore,
+that an ill-tempered child is not, on the whole, likely to be as much
+loved as a good-tempered one; lastly, that if you wait long enough,
+winter will go and spring will come.</p>
+
+<p>For this was the case this year, after all! Spring had only been sleepy
+and lazy, and in such a case what could poor old winter do but fill the
+vacant post till she came? Why he should be so scolded and reviled for
+faithfully doing his best, as he often is, I really don't know. Not that
+all the ill words he gets have much effect on him&mdash;he comes again just
+as usual, whatever we say of or to him. I suppose his feelings have long
+ago been frozen up, or surely before this he would<!-- Page 177 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> have taken
+offence&mdash;well for us that he has not done so!</p>
+
+<p>But when the spring did come at last this year, it would be impossible
+for me to tell you how Griselda enjoyed it. It was like new life to her
+as well as to the plants, and flowers, and birds, and insects. Hitherto,
+you see, she had been able to see very little of the outside of her
+aunt's house; and charming as the inside was, the outside, I must say,
+was still "charminger." There seemed no end to the little up-and-down
+paths and alleys, leading to rustic seats and quaint arbours; no limits
+to the little pine-wood, down into which led the dearest little
+zig-zaggy path you ever saw, all bordered with snow-drops and primroses
+and violets, and later on with periwinkles, and wood anemones, and those
+bright, starry, white flowers, whose name no two people agree about.</p>
+
+<p>This wood-path was the place, I think, which Griselda loved the best.
+The bowling-green was certainly very delightful, and so <!-- Page 178 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>was the terrace
+where the famous roses grew; but lovely as the roses were (I am speaking
+just now, of course, of later on in the summer, when they were all in
+bloom), Griselda could not enjoy them as much as the wild-flowers, for
+she was forbidden to gather or touch them, except with her funny round
+nose!</p>
+
+<p>"You may <i>scent</i> them, my dear," said Miss Grizzel, who was of opinion
+that smell was not a pretty word; "but I cannot allow anything more."</p>
+
+<p>And Griselda did "scent" them, I assure you. She burrowed her whole rosy
+face in the big ones; but gently, for she did not want to spoil them,
+both for her aunt's sake, and because, too, she had a greater regard for
+flowers now that she knew the secret of how they were painted, and what
+a great deal of trouble the butterflies take about them.</p>
+
+<p>But after a while one grows tired of "scenting" roses; and even the
+trying to walk straight across the bowling-green with her eyes shut,
+from the arbour at one side to the<!-- Page 179 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> arbour exactly like it at the other,
+grew stupid, though no doubt it would have been capital fun with a
+companion to applaud or criticize.</p>
+
+<p>So the wood-path became Griselda's favourite haunt. As the summer grew
+on, she began to long more than ever for a companion&mdash;not so much for
+play, as for some one to play with. She had lessons, of course, just as
+many as in the winter; but with the long days, there seemed to come a
+quite unaccountable increase of play-time, and Griselda sometimes found
+it hang heavy on her hands. She had not seen or heard anything of the
+cuckoo either, save, of course, in his "official capacity" of
+time-teller, for a very long time.</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose," she thought, "he thinks I don't need amusing, now that the
+fine days are come and I can play in the garden; and certainly, if I had
+<i>any one</i> to play with, the garden would be perfectly lovely."</p>
+
+<p>But, failing companions, she did the best<!-- Page 180 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> she could for herself, and
+this was why she loved the path down into the wood so much. There was a
+sort of mystery about it; it might have been the path leading to the
+cottage of Red-Ridinghood's grandmother, or a path leading to fairyland
+itself. There were all kinds of queer, nice, funny noises to be heard
+there&mdash;in one part of it especially, where Griselda made herself a seat
+of some moss-grown stones, and where she came so often that she got to
+know all the little flowers growing close round about, and even the
+particular birds whose nests were hard by.</p>
+
+<p>She used to sit there and <i>fancy</i>&mdash;fancy that she heard the wood-elves
+chattering under their breath, or the little underground gnomes and
+kobolds hammering at their fairy forges. And the tinkling of the brook
+in the distance sounded like the enchanted bells round the necks of the
+fairy kine, who are sent out to pasture sometimes on the upper world
+hillsides. For Griselda's head was crammed<!-- Page 181 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> full, perfectly full, of
+fairy lore; and the mandarins' country, and butterfly-land, were quite
+as real to her as the every-day world about her.</p>
+
+<p>But all this time she was not forgotten by the cuckoo, as you will see.</p>
+
+<p>One day she was sitting in her favourite nest, feeling, notwithstanding
+the sunshine, and the flowers, and the soft sweet air, and the pleasant
+sounds all about, rather dull and lonely. For though it was only May, it
+was really quite a hot day, and Griselda had been all the morning at her
+lessons, and had tried very hard, and done them very well, and now she
+felt as if she deserved some reward. Suddenly in the distance, she heard
+a well-known sound, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>"Can that be the cuckoo?" she said to herself; and in a moment she felt
+sure that it must be. For, for some reason that I do not know enough
+about the habits of real "flesh and blood" cuckoos to explain, that bird
+was not known in the neighbourhood where <!-- Page 182 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>Griselda's aunts lived. Some
+twenty miles or so further south it was heard regularly, but all this
+spring Griselda had never caught the sound of its familiar note, and she
+now remembered hearing it never came to these parts.</p>
+
+<p>So, "it must be my cuckoo," she said to herself. "He must be coming out
+to speak to me. How funny! I have never seen him by daylight."</p>
+
+<p>She listened. Yes, again there it was, "Cuckoo, cuckoo," as plain as
+possible, and nearer than before.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," cried Griselda, "do come and talk to me. It's such a long time
+since I have seen you, and I have nobody to play with."</p>
+
+<p>But there was no answer. Griselda held her breath to listen, but there
+was nothing to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>"Unkind cuckoo!" she exclaimed. "He is tricking me, I do believe; and
+to-day too, just when I was so dull and lonely."</p>
+
+<p>The tears came into her eyes, and she was <!-- Page 183 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>beginning to think herself
+very badly used, when suddenly a rustling in the bushes beside her made
+her turn round, more than half expecting to see the cuckoo himself. But
+it was not he. The rustling went on for a minute or two without anything
+making its appearance, for the bushes were pretty thick just there, and
+any one scrambling up from the pine-wood below would have had rather
+hard work to get through, and indeed for a very big person such a feat
+would have been altogether impossible.</p>
+
+<p>It was not a very big person, however, who was causing all the rustling,
+and crunching of branches, and general commotion, which now absorbed
+Griselda's attention. She sat watching for another minute in perfect
+stillness, afraid of startling by the slightest movement the squirrel or
+rabbit or creature of some kind which she expected to see. At last&mdash;was
+that a squirrel or rabbit&mdash;that rosy, round face, with shaggy, fair hair
+falling over the eager blue eyes, and a general<!-- Page 184 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> look of breathlessness
+and over-heatedness and determination?</p>
+
+<p>A squirrel or a rabbit! No, indeed, but a very sturdy, very merry, very
+ragged little boy.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are that cuckoo? Does <i>you</i> know?" were the first words he
+uttered, as soon as he had fairly shaken himself, though not by any
+means all his clothes, free of the bushes (for ever so many pieces of
+jacket and knickerbockers, not to speak of one boot and half his hat,
+had been left behind on the way), and found breath to say something.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stared at him for a moment without speaking, she was so
+astonished. It was months since she had spoken to a child, almost since
+she had seen one, and about children younger than herself she knew very
+little at any time, being the baby of the family at home, you see, and
+having only big brothers older than herself for play-fellows.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 185 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
+"Who are you?" she said at last. "What's your name, and what do you
+want?"</p>
+
+<p>"My name's Master Phil, and I want that cuckoo," answered the little
+boy. "He camed up this way. I'm sure he did, for he called me all the
+way."</p>
+
+<p>"He's not here," said Griselda, shaking her head; "and this is my aunts'
+garden. No one is allowed to come here but friends of theirs. You had
+better go home; and you have torn your clothes so."</p>
+
+<p>"This aren't a garden," replied the little fellow undauntedly, looking
+round him; "this are a wood. There are blue-bells and primroses here,
+and that shows it aren't a garden&mdash;not anybody's garden, I mean, with
+walls round, for nobody to come in."</p>
+
+<p>"But it <i>is</i>," said Griselda, getting rather vexed. "If it isn't a
+garden it's <i>grounds</i>, private grounds, and nobody should come without
+leave. This path leads down to the wood, and there's a door in the wall
+at the bottom to get into the lane. You may go<!-- Page 186 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> down that way, little
+boy. No one comes scrambling up the way you did."</p>
+
+<p>"But I want to find the cuckoo," said the little boy. "I do so want to
+find the cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>His voice sounded almost as if he were going to cry, and his pretty,
+hot, flushed face puckered up. Griselda's heart smote her; she looked at
+him more carefully. He was such a very little boy, after all; she did
+not like to be cross to him.</p>
+
+<p>"How old are you?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Five and a bit. I had a birthday after the summer, and if I'm good,
+nurse says perhaps I'll have one after next summer too. Do you ever have
+birthdays?" he went on, peering up at Griselda. "Nurse says she used to
+when she was young, but she never has any now."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 187 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
+"<i>Have</i> you a nurse?" asked Griselda, rather surprised; for, to tell the
+truth, from "Master Phil's" appearance, she had not felt at all sure
+what <i>sort</i> of little boy he was, or rather what sort of people he
+belonged to.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I have a nurse, and a mother too," said the little boy,
+opening wide his eyes in surprise at the question. "Haven't you? Perhaps
+you're too big, though. People leave off having nurses and mothers when
+they're big, don't they? Just like birthdays. But <i>I</i> won't. I won't
+never leave off having a mother, any way. I don't care so much about
+nurse and birthdays, not <i>kite</i> so much. Did you care when you had to
+leave off, when you got too big?"</p>
+
+<p>"I hadn't to leave off because I got big," said Griselda sadly. "I left
+off when I was much littler than you," she went on, unconsciously
+speaking as Phil would best understand her. "My mother died."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm werry sorry," said Phil; and the way in which he said it quite
+overcame Griselda's unfriendliness. "But perhaps you've a nice nurse. My
+nurse is rather nice; but she <i>will</i> 'cold me to-day, won't she?" he
+added, laughing, pointing to the terrible rents in his garments. "These
+are my very oldestest <!-- Page 188 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>things; that's a good thing, isn't it? Nurse says
+I don't look like Master Phil in these, but when I have on my blue
+welpet, then I look like Master Phil. I shall have my blue welpet when
+mother comes."</p>
+
+<p>"Is your mother away?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes, she's been away a long time; so nurse came here to take care of
+me at the farm-house, you know. Mother was ill, but she's better now,
+and some day she'll come too."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you like being at the farm-house? Have you anybody to play with?"
+said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>Phil shook his curly head. "I never have anybody to play with," he said.
+"I'd like to play with you if you're not too big. And do you think you
+could help me to find the cuckoo?" he added insinuatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you know about the cuckoo?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 189 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus189.jpg"><img src="images/illus189-thumb.jpg"
+width="226" height="300"
+alt="&quot;BUT I MAY SEE YOU AGAIN,&quot; SAID PHIL" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">&quot;but i may see you again,&quot; said phil</span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><!-- Page 190 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
+"He called me," said Phil, "he called me lots of times; and to-day nurse
+was busy, so I <!-- Page 191 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>thought I'd come. And do you know," he added mysteriously, "I do believe
+the cuckoo's a fairy, and when I find him I'm going to ask him to show
+me the way to fairyland."</p>
+
+<p>"He says we must all find the way ourselves," said Griselda, quite
+forgetting to whom she was speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Does</i> he?" cried Phil, in great excitement. "Do you know him, then?
+and have you asked him? Oh, do tell me."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda recollected herself. "You couldn't understand," she said. "Some
+day perhaps I'll tell you&mdash;I mean if ever I see you again."</p>
+
+<p>"But I may see you again," said Phil, settling himself down comfortably
+beside Griselda on her mossy stone. "You'll let me come, won't you? I
+like to talk about fairies, and nurse doesn't understand. And if the
+cuckoo knows you, perhaps that's why he called me to come to play with
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"How did he call you?" asked Griselda.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 192 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>"First," said Phil gravely, "it was in the night. I was asleep, and I
+had been wishing I had somebody to play with, and then I d'eamed of the
+cuckoo&mdash;such a nice d'eam. And when I woke up I heard him calling me,
+and I wasn't d'eaming then. And then when I was in the field he called
+me, but I <i>couldn't</i> find him, and nurse said 'Nonsense.' And to-day he
+called me again, so I camed up through the bushes. And mayn't I come
+again? Perhaps if we both tried together we could find the way to
+fairyland. Do you think we could?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know," said Griselda, dreamily. "There's a great deal to learn
+first, the cuckoo says."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you learnt a great deal?" (he called it "a gate deal") asked Phil,
+looking up at Griselda with increased respect. "<i>I</i> don't know scarcely
+nothing. Mother was ill such a long time before she went away, but I
+know she wanted me to learn to read books. But nurse is too old to teach
+me."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 193 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
+"Shall I teach you?" said Griselda. "I can bring some of my old books
+and teach you here after I have done my own lessons."</p>
+
+<p>"And then mother <i>would</i> be surprised when she comes back," said Master
+Phil, clapping his hands. "Oh, <i>do</i>. And when I've learnt to read a
+great deal, do you think the cuckoo would show us the way to fairyland?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it was that sort of learning he meant," said Griselda.
+"But I dare say that would help. I <i>think</i>," she went on, lowering her
+voice a little, and looking down gravely into Phil's earnest eyes, "I
+<i>think</i> he means mostly learning to be very good&mdash;very, <i>very</i> good, you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Gooder than you?" said Phil.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear, yes; lots and lots gooder than me," replied Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> think you're very good," observed Phil, in a parenthesis. Then he
+went on with his cross-questioning.</p>
+
+<p>"Gooder than mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know your mother, so how<!-- Page 194 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> can I tell how good she is?" said
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> can tell you," said Phil, importantly. "She is just as good as&mdash;as
+good as&mdash;as good as <i>good</i>. That's what she is."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean she couldn't be better," said Griselda, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that'll do, if you like. Would that be good enough for us to be,
+do you think?"</p>
+
+<p>"We must ask the cuckoo," said Griselda. "But I'm sure it would be a
+good thing for you to learn to read. You must ask your nurse to let you
+come here every afternoon that it's fine, and I'll ask my aunt."</p>
+
+<p>"I needn't ask nurse," said Phil composedly; "she'll never know where I
+am, and I needn't tell her. She doesn't care what I do, except tearing
+my clothes; and when she scolds me, <i>I</i> don't care."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That</i> isn't good, Phil," said Griselda gravely. "You'll never be as
+good as good if you speak like that."</p>
+
+<p>"What should I say, then? Tell me," said the little boy submissively.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 195 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
+"You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I'm
+much bigger than you, and I won't let you tear your clothes. And you
+should tell her you're very sorry you've torn them to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Phil, "I'll say that. But, oh see!" he exclaimed,
+darting off, "there's a field mouse! If only I could catch him!"</p>
+
+<p>Of course he couldn't catch him, nor could Griselda either; very ready,
+though, she was to do her best. But it was great fun all the same, and
+the children laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves tremendously. And
+when they were tired they sat down again and gathered flowers for
+nosegays, and Griselda was surprised to find how clever Phil was about
+it. He was much quicker than she at spying out the prettiest blossoms,
+however hidden behind tree, or stone, or shrub. And he told her of all
+the best places for flowers near by, and where grew the largest
+<!-- Page 196 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
+primroses and the sweetest violets, in a way that astonished her.</p>
+
+<p>"You're such a little boy," she said; "how do you know so much about
+flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've had no one else to play with," he said innocently. "And then, you
+know, the fairies are so fond of them."</p>
+
+<p>When Griselda thought it was time to go home, she led little Phil down
+the wood-path, and through the door in the wall opening on to the lane.</p>
+
+<p>"Now you can find your way home without scrambling through any more
+bushes, can't you, Master Phil?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thank you, and I'll come again to that place to-morrow afternoon,
+shall I?" asked Phil. "I'll know when&mdash;after I've had my dinner and
+raced three times round the big field, then it'll be time. That's how it
+was to-day."</p>
+
+<p>"I should think it would do if you <i>walked</i> three times&mdash;or twice if you
+like&mdash;round the field. It isn't a good thing to race just when <!-- Page 197 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>you've
+had your dinner," observed Griselda sagely. "And you mustn't try to come
+if it isn't fine, for my aunts won't let me go out if it rains even the
+tiniest bit. And of course you must ask your nurse's leave."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said little Phil as he trotted off. "I'll try to remember
+all those things. I'm so glad you'll play with me again; and if you see
+the cuckoo, please thank him."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus051.png" width="200" height="315" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 198 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX<br />
+UP AND DOWN THE CHIMNEY</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus013a.png" width="700" height="340" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Helper.</i> Well, but if it was all dream, it would be the same as
+if it was all real, would it not?</p>
+
+<p><i>Keeper.</i> Yes, I see. I mean, Sir, I do <i>not</i> see."&mdash;<i>A Liliput
+Revel.</i></p></div>
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/n.png" width="191" height="200" alt="N" title="" />
+</div><p><i>ot</i> having "just had her dinner," and feeling very much inclined for
+her tea, Griselda ran home at a great rate.</p>
+
+<p>She felt, too, in such good spirits; it had been so delightful to have a
+companion in her play.</p>
+
+<p>"What a good thing it was I didn't make Phil run away before I found out
+what a nice little boy he was," she said to herself. "I must look out my
+old reading books to-night. <!-- Page 199 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>I shall so like teaching him, poor little
+boy, and the cuckoo will be pleased at my doing something useful, I'm
+sure."</p>
+
+<p>Tea was quite ready, in fact waiting for her, when she came in. This was
+a meal she always had by herself, brought up on a tray to Dorcas's
+little sitting-room, where Dorcas waited upon her. And sometimes when
+Griselda was in a particularly good humour she would beg Dorcas to sit
+down and have a cup of tea with her&mdash;a liberty the old servant was far
+too dignified and respectful to have thought of taking, unless specially
+requested to do so.</p>
+
+<p>This evening, as you know, Griselda was in a very particularly good
+humour, and besides this, so very full of her adventures, that she would
+have been glad of an even less sympathising listener than Dorcas was
+likely to be.</p>
+
+<p>"Sit down, Dorcas, and have some more tea, do," she said coaxingly. "It
+looks ever so much more comfortable, and I'm sure you<!-- Page 200 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> could eat a little
+more if you tried, whether you've had your tea in the kitchen or not.
+I'm <i>fearfully</i> hungry, I can tell you. You'll have to cut a whole lot
+more bread and butter and not 'ladies' slices' either."</p>
+
+<p>"How your tongue does go, to be sure, Miss Griselda," said Dorcas,
+smiling, as she seated herself on the chair Griselda had drawn in for
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"And why shouldn't it?" said Griselda saucily. "It doesn't do it any
+harm. But oh, Dorcas, I've had such fun this afternoon&mdash;really, you
+couldn't guess what I've been doing."</p>
+
+<p>"Very likely not, missie," said Dorcas.</p>
+
+<p>"But you might try to guess. Oh no, I don't think you need&mdash;guessing
+takes such a time, and I want to tell you. Just fancy, Dorcas, I've been
+playing with a little boy in the wood."</p>
+
+<p>"Playing with a little boy, Miss Griselda!" exclaimed Dorcas, aghast.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and he's coming again to-morrow,<!-- Page 201 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> and the day after, and every day,
+I dare say," said Griselda. "He <i>is</i> such a nice little boy."</p>
+
+<p>"But, missie," began Dorcas.</p>
+
+<p>"Well? What's the matter? You needn't look like that&mdash;as if I had done
+something naughty," said Griselda sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"But you'll tell your aunt, missie?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course," said Griselda, looking up fearlessly into Dorcas's face
+with her bright grey eyes. "Of course; why shouldn't I? I must ask her
+to give the little boy leave to come into <i>our</i> grounds; and I told the
+little boy to be sure to tell his nurse, who takes care of him, about
+his playing with me."</p>
+
+<p>"His nurse," repeated Dorcas, in a tone of some relief. "Then he must be
+quite a little boy, perhaps Miss Grizzel would not object so much in
+that case."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should she object at all? She might know I wouldn't want to play
+with a naughty rude boy," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"She thinks all boys rude and naughty, <!-- Page 202 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>I'm afraid, missie," said Dorcas.
+"All, that is to say, excepting your dear papa. But then, of course, she
+had the bringing up of <i>him</i> in her own way from the beginning."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll ask her, any way," said Griselda, "and if she says I'm not
+to play with him, I shall think&mdash;I know what I shall <i>think</i> of Aunt
+Grizzel, whether I <i>say</i> it or not."</p>
+
+<p>And the old look of rebellion and discontent settled down again on her
+rosy face.</p>
+
+<p>"Be careful, missie, now do, there's a dear good girl," said Dorcas
+anxiously, an hour later, when Griselda, dressed as usual in her little
+white muslin frock, was ready to join her aunts at dessert.</p>
+
+<p>But Griselda would not condescend to make any reply.</p>
+
+<p>"Aunt Grizzel," she said suddenly, when she had eaten an orange and
+three biscuits and drunk half a glass of home-made elder-berry wine,
+"Aunt Grizzel, when I was out in the garden to-day&mdash;down the wood-path,
+I mean&mdash;I met a little boy, and he played with me,<!-- Page 203 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> and I want to know if
+he may come every day to play with me."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda knew she was not making her request in a very amiable or
+becoming manner; she knew, indeed, that she was making it in such a way
+as was almost certain to lead to its being refused; and yet, though she
+was really so very, very anxious to get leave to play with little Phil,
+she took a sort of spiteful pleasure in injuring her own cause.</p>
+
+<p>How <i>foolish</i> ill-temper makes us! Griselda had allowed herself to get
+so angry at the <i>thought</i> of being thwarted that had her aunt looked up
+quietly and said at once, "Oh yes, you may have the little boy to play
+with you whenever you like," she would really, in a strange distorted
+sort of way, have been <i>disappointed</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But, of course, Miss Grizzel made no such reply. Nothing less than a
+miracle could have made her answer Griselda otherwise than as she did.
+Like Dorcas, for an instant, she was utterly "flabbergasted," if you
+<!-- Page 204 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
+know what that means. For she was really quite an old lady, you know,
+and sensible as she was, things upset her much more easily than when she
+was younger.</p>
+
+<p>Naughty Griselda saw her uneasiness, and enjoyed it.</p>
+
+<p>"Playing with a boy!" exclaimed Miss Grizzel. "A boy in my grounds, and
+you, my niece, to have played with him!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda coolly, "and I want to play with him again."</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," said her aunt, "I am too astonished to say more at present.
+Go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>"Why should I go to bed? It is not my bedtime," cried Griselda, blazing
+up. "What have I done to be sent to bed as if I were in disgrace?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go to bed," repeated Miss Grizzel. "I will speak to you to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"You are very unfair and unjust," said Griselda, starting up from her
+chair. "That's all the good of being honest and telling everything. I
+might have played with the little <!-- Page 205 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>boy every day for a month and you
+would never have known, if I hadn't told you."</p>
+
+<p>She banged across the room as she spoke, and out at the door, slamming
+it behind her rudely. Then upstairs like a whirlwind; but when she got
+to her own room, she sat down on the floor and burst into tears, and
+when Dorcas came up, nearly half an hour later, she was still in the
+same place, crouched up in a little heap, sobbing bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, missie, missie," said Dorcas, "it's just what I was afraid of!"</p>
+
+<p>As Griselda rushed out of the room Miss Grizzel leant back in her chair
+and sighed deeply.</p>
+
+<p>"Already," she said faintly. "She was never so violent before. Can one
+afternoon's companionship with rudeness have already contaminated her?
+Already, Tabitha&mdash;can it be so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Already," said Miss Tabitha, softly shaking her head, which somehow
+made her look wonderfully like an old cat, for she felt cold of an
+<!-- Page 206 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
+evening and usually wore a very fine woolly shawl of a delicate grey
+shade, and the borders of her cap and the ruffles round her throat and
+wrists were all of fluffy, downy white&mdash;"already," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Yet," said Miss Grizzel, recovering herself a little, "it is true what
+the child said. She might have deceived us. Have I been hard upon her,
+Sister Tabitha?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hard upon her! Sister Grizzel," said Miss Tabitha with more energy than
+usual; "no, certainly not. For once, Sister Grizzel, I disagree with
+you. Hard upon her! Certainly not."</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Grizzel did not feel happy.</p>
+
+<p>When she went up to her own room at night she was surprised to find
+Dorcas waiting for her, instead of the younger maid.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you would not mind having me, instead of Martha, to-night,
+ma'am," she said, "for I did so want to speak to you about Miss
+Griselda. The poor, dear young lady has gone to bed so very unhappy."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 207 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
+"But do you know what she has done, Dorcas?" said Miss Grizzel.
+"Admitted a <i>boy</i>, a rude, common, impertinent <i>boy</i>, into my precincts,
+and played with him&mdash;with a <i>boy</i>, Dorcas."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, ma'am," said Dorcas. "I know all about it, ma'am. Miss Griselda
+has told me all. But if you would allow me to give an opinion, it isn't
+quite so bad. He's quite a little boy, ma'am&mdash;between five and six&mdash;only
+just about the age Miss Griselda's dear papa was when he first came to
+us, and, by all I can hear, quite a little gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"A little gentleman," repeated Miss Grizzel, "and not six years old!
+That is less objectionable than I expected. What is his name, as you
+know so much, Dorcas?"</p>
+
+<p>"Master Phil," replied Dorcas. "That is what he told Miss Griselda, and
+she never thought to ask him more. But I'll tell you how we could get to
+hear more about him, I think, ma'am. From what Miss Griselda says, I
+believe he is staying at Mr. Crouch's <!-- Page 208 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>farm, and that, you know, ma'am,
+belongs to my Lady Lavander, though it is a good way from Merrybrow
+Hall. My lady is pretty sure to know about the child, for she knows all
+that goes on among her tenants, and I remember hearing that a little
+gentleman and his nurse had come to Mr. Crouch's to lodge for six
+months."</p>
+
+<p>Miss Grizzel listened attentively.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Dorcas," she said, when the old servant had left off
+speaking. "You have behaved with your usual discretion. I shall drive
+over to Merrybrow to-morrow, and make inquiry. And you may tell Miss
+Griselda in the morning what I purpose doing; but tell her also that, as
+a punishment for her rudeness and ill-temper, she must have breakfast in
+her own room to-morrow, and not see me till I send for her. Had she
+restrained her temper and explained the matter, all this distress might
+have been saved."</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas did not wait till "to-morrow morning"; <!-- Page 209 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>she could not bear to
+think of Griselda's unhappiness. From her mistress's room she went
+straight to the little girl's, going in very softly, so as not to
+disturb her should she be sleeping.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you awake, missie?" she said gently.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda started up.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she exclaimed. "Is it you, cuckoo? I'm quite awake."</p>
+
+<p>"Bless the child," said Dorcas to herself, "how her head does run on
+Miss Sybilla's cuckoo. It's really wonderful. There's more in such
+things than some people think."</p>
+
+<p>But aloud she only replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It's Dorcas, missie. No fairy, only old Dorcas come to comfort you a
+bit. Listen, missie. Your auntie is going over to Merrybrow Hall
+to-morrow to inquire about this little Master Phil from my Lady
+Lavander, for we think it's at one of her ladyship's farms that he and
+his nurse are staying, and if she hears that he's a nice-mannered little
+gentleman, and comes of good parents&mdash;why,<!-- Page 210 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> missie, there's no saying but
+that you'll get leave to play with him as much as you like."</p>
+
+<p>"But not to-morrow, Dorcas," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel never goes to
+Merrybrow till the afternoon. She won't be back in time for me to play
+with Phil to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"No, but next day, perhaps," said Dorcas.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but that won't do," said Griselda, beginning to cry again. "Poor
+little Phil will be coming up to the wood-path <i>to-morrow</i>, and if he
+doesn't find me, he'll be <i>so</i> unhappy&mdash;perhaps he'll never come again
+if I don't meet him to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas saw that the little girl was worn out and excited, and not yet
+inclined to take a reasonable view of things.</p>
+
+<p>"Go to sleep, missie," she said kindly, "and don't think anything more
+about it till to-morrow. It'll be all right, you'll see."</p>
+
+<p>Her patience touched Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"You are very kind, Dorcas," she said. "I don't mean to be cross to
+<i>you</i>; but I can't<!-- Page 211 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> bear to think of poor little Phil. Perhaps he'll sit
+down on my mossy stone and cry. Poor little Phil!"</p>
+
+<p>But notwithstanding her distress, when Dorcas had left her she did feel
+her heart a little lighter, and somehow or other before long she fell
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When she awoke it seemed to be suddenly, and she had the feeling that
+something had disturbed her. She lay for a minute or two perfectly
+still&mdash;listening. Yes; there it was&mdash;the soft, faint rustle in the air
+that she knew so well. It seemed as if something was moving away from
+her.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said gently, "is that you?"</p>
+
+<p>A moment's pause, then came the answer&mdash;the pretty greeting she
+expected.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," soft and musical. Then the cuckoo spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Griselda" he said, "and how are you? It's a good while since we
+have had any fun together."</p>
+
+<p>"That's not <i>my</i> fault," said Griselda <!-- Page 212 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>sharply. She was not yet feeling
+quite as amiable as might have been desired, you see. "That's
+<i>certainly</i> not my fault," she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>"I never said it was," replied the cuckoo. "Why will you jump at
+conclusions so? It's a very bad habit, for very often you jump <i>over</i>
+them, you see, and go too far. One should always <i>walk</i> up to
+conclusions, very slowly and evenly, right foot first, then left, one
+with another&mdash;that's the way to get where you want to go, and feel sure
+of your ground. Do you see?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know whether I do or not, and I'm not going to speak to you if
+you go on at me like that. You might see I don't want to be lectured
+when I am so unhappy."</p>
+
+<p>"What are you unhappy about?"</p>
+
+<p>"About Phil, of course. I won't tell you, for I believe you know," said
+Griselda. "Wasn't it you that sent him to play with me? I was so
+pleased, and I thought it was very kind of you; but it's all spoilt
+now."</p>
+
+<p>"But I heard Dorcas saying that your aunt<!-- Page 213 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> is going over to consult my
+Lady Lavander about it," said the cuckoo. "It'll be all right; you
+needn't be in such low spirits about nothing."</p>
+
+<p>"Were you in the room <i>then</i>?" said Griselda. "How funny you are,
+cuckoo. But it isn't all right. Don't you see, poor little Phil will be
+coming up the wood-path to-morrow afternoon to meet me, and I won't be
+there! I can't bear to think of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Is that all?" said the cuckoo. "It really is extraordinary how some
+people make troubles out of nothing! We can easily tell Phil not to come
+till the day after. Come along."</p>
+
+<p>"Come along," repeated Griselda; "what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I forgot," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Put out your
+hand. There, do you feel me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda, stroking gently the soft feathers which seemed to
+be close under her hand. "Yes, I feel you."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 214 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
+"Well, then," said the cuckoo, "put your arms round my neck, and hold me
+firm. I'll lift you up."</p>
+
+<p>"How <i>can</i> you talk such nonsense, cuckoo?" said Griselda. "Why, one of
+my little fingers would clasp your neck. How can I put my arms round
+it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Try," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Somehow Griselda had to try.</p>
+
+<p>She held out her arms in the cuckoo's direction, as if she expected his
+neck to be about the size of a Shetland pony's, or a large Newfoundland
+dog's; and, to her astonishment, so it was! A nice, comfortable,
+feathery neck it felt&mdash;so soft that she could not help laying her head
+down upon it, and nestling in the downy cushion.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Then he seemed to give a little spring, and Griselda felt herself
+altogether lifted on to his back. She lay there as comfortably as
+possible&mdash;it felt so firm as well as soft. Up he flew a little way&mdash;then
+stopped short.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 215 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
+"Are you all right?" he inquired. "You're not afraid of falling off?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no," said Griselda; "not a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be," said the cuckoo, "for you couldn't if you tried. I'm
+going on, then."</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Up the chimney first," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"But there'll never be room," said Griselda. "I might <i>perhaps</i> crawl up
+like a sweep, hands and knees, you know, like going up a ladder. But
+stretched out like this&mdash;it's just as if I were lying on a sofa&mdash;I
+<i>couldn't</i> go up the chimney."</p>
+
+<p>"Couldn't you?" said the cuckoo. "We'll see. <i>I</i> intend to go, any way,
+and to take you with me. Shut your eyes&mdash;one, two, three&mdash;here
+goes&mdash;we'll be up the chimney before you know."</p>
+
+<p>It was quite true. Griselda shut her eyes tight. She felt nothing but a
+pleasant sort of rush. Then she heard the cuckoo's voice, saying&mdash;</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 216 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
+"Well, wasn't that well done? Open your eyes and look about you."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda did so. Where were they?</p>
+
+<p>They were floating about above the top of the house, which Griselda saw
+down below them, looking dark and vast. She felt confused and
+bewildered.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she said, "I don't understand. Is it I that have grown little,
+or you that have grown big?"</p>
+
+<p>"Whichever you please," said the cuckoo. "You have forgotten. I told you
+long ago it is all a matter of fancy."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, if everything grew little <i>together</i>," persisted Griselda; "but it
+isn't everything. It's just you or me, or both of us. No, it can't be
+both of us. And I don't think it can be me, for if any of me had grown
+little all would, and my eyes haven't grown little, for everything looks
+as big as usual, only <i>you</i> a great deal bigger. My eyes can't have
+grown bigger without the rest of me, surely, for the moon looks just the
+same. And I<!-- Page 217 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> must have grown little, or else we couldn't have got up the
+chimney. Oh, cuckoo, you have put all my thinking into such a muddle!"</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind," said the cuckoo. "It'll show you how little consequence
+big and little are of. Make yourself comfortable all the same. Are you
+all right? Shut your eyes if you like. I'm going pretty fast."</p>
+
+<p>"Where to?" said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"To Phil, of course," said the cuckoo. "What a bad memory you have! Are
+you comfortable?"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Very</i>, thank you," replied Griselda, giving the cuckoo's neck an
+affectionate hug as she spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do, thank you. Don't throttle me, if it's quite the same to
+you," said the cuckoo. "Here goes&mdash;one, two, three," and off he flew
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda shut her eyes and lay still. It was delicious&mdash;the gliding, yet
+darting motion, like nothing she had ever felt before. <!-- Page 218 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>It did not make
+her the least giddy, either; but a slightly sleepy feeling came over
+her. She felt no inclination to open her eyes; and, indeed, at the rate
+they were going, she could have distinguished very little had she done
+so.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the feeling in the air about her changed. For an instant it
+felt more <i>rushy</i> than before, and there was a queer, dull sound in her
+ears. Then she felt that the cuckoo had stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Where are we?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"We've just come <i>down</i> a chimney again," said the cuckoo. "Open your
+eyes and clamber down off my back, but don't speak loud, or you'll waken
+him, and that wouldn't do. There you are&mdash;the moonlight's coming in
+nicely at the window&mdash;you can see your way."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda found herself in a little bed-room, quite a tiny one, and by
+the look of the simple furniture and the latticed window, she saw that
+she was not in a grand house. But everything looked very neat and nice,
+and <!-- Page 219 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>on a little bed in one corner lay a lovely sleeping child. It was
+Phil! He looked so pretty asleep&mdash;his shaggy curls all tumbling about,
+his rosy mouth half open as if smiling, one little hand tossed over his
+head, the other tight clasping a little basket which he had insisted on
+taking to bed with him, meaning as soon as he was dressed the next
+morning to run out and fill it with flowers for the little girl he had
+made friends with.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda stepped up to the side of the bed on tiptoe. The cuckoo had
+disappeared, but Griselda heard his voice. It seemed to come from a
+little way up the chimney.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't wake him," said the cuckoo, "but whisper what you want to say
+into his ear, as soon as I have called him. He'll understand; he's
+accustomed to my ways."</p>
+
+<p>Then came the old note, soft and musical as ever&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. Listen, Phil," said the cuckoo, and without
+opening his eyes a change passed over the little boy's <!-- Page 220 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>face. Griselda
+could see that he was listening to hear her message.</p>
+
+<p>"He thinks he's dreaming, I suppose," she said to herself with a smile.
+Then she whispered softly&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Phil, dear, don't come to play with me to-morrow, for I can't come. But
+come the day after. I'll be at the wood-path then."</p>
+
+<p>"Welly well," murmured Phil. Then he put out his two arms towards
+Griselda, all without opening his eyes, and she, bending down, kissed
+him softly.</p>
+
+<p>"Phil's so sleepy," he whispered, like a baby almost. Then he turned
+over and went to sleep more soundly than before.</p>
+
+<p>"That'll do," said the cuckoo. "Come along, Griselda."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda obediently made her way to the place whence the cuckoo's voice
+seemed to come.</p>
+
+<p>"Shut your eyes and put your arms round my neck again," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>She did not hesitate this time. It all<!-- Page 221 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> happened just as before. There
+came the same sort of rushy sound; then the cuckoo stopped, and Griselda
+opened her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>They were up in the air again&mdash;a good way up, too, for some grand old
+elms that stood beside the farmhouse were gently waving their topmost
+branches a yard or two from where the cuckoo was poising himself and
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Where shall we go to now?" he said. "Or would you rather go home? Are
+you tired?"</p>
+
+<p>"Tired!" exclaimed Griselda. "I should rather think not. How could I be
+tired, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, don't excite yourself about nothing, whatever you do," said
+the cuckoo. "Say where you'd like to go."</p>
+
+<p>"How can I?" said Griselda. "You know far more nice places than I do."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't care to go back to the mandarins, or the butterflies, I
+suppose?" asked the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"No, thank you," said Griselda; "I'd like <!-- Page 222 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>something new. And I'm not
+sure that I care for seeing any more countries of that kind, unless you
+could take me to the <i>real</i> fairyland."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>I</i> can't do that, you know," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Just then a faint "soughing" sound among the branches suggested another
+idea to Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "take me to the sea. It's <i>such</i> a time since I
+saw the sea. I can fancy I hear it; do take me to see it."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus001.png" width="300" height="282" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 223 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X<br />
+THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus034a.png" width="700" height="327" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"That after supper time has come,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And silver dews the meadow steep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all is silent in the home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And even nurses are asleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That be it late, or be it soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon this lovely night in June<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They both will step into the moon."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/v.png" width="193" height="200" alt="V" title="" />
+</div><p>ery well," said the cuckoo. "You would like to look about you a little
+on the way, perhaps, Griselda, as we shall not be going down chimneys,
+or anything of that kind just at present."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Griselda. "I think I should. <!-- Page 224 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>I'm rather tired of shutting my
+eyes, and I'm getting quite accustomed to flying about with you,
+cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>"Turn on your side, then," said the cuckoo, "and you won't have to twist
+your neck to see over my shoulder. Are you comfortable now? And,
+by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find
+the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round
+you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll
+tuck it all round me like a rug&mdash;that's it. I <i>am</i> so warm now, cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>"Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little
+girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing&mdash;no words
+can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her.</p>
+
+<p>"How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all
+great, big <i>suns</i>? <!-- Page 225 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as
+nice, funny little things."</p>
+
+<p>"They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking
+at now."</p>
+
+<p>"I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so
+good-natured. Are they <i>all</i> twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr.
+Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and <i>he</i> says they
+are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it."</p>
+
+<p>"He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they
+never rest just for a minute?"</p>
+
+<p>"Never."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda gave a little wriggle.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they
+stood still now and then."</p>
+
+<p>"Would it?" said the cuckoo. "I know <!-- Page 226 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>somebody who would soon find fault
+if they did. What would you say to no summer; no day, or no night,
+whichever it happened not to be, you see; nothing growing, and nothing
+to eat before long? That's what it would be if they stood still, you
+see, because&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, cuckoo," interrupted Griselda. "It's very nice to hear
+you&mdash;I mean, very dreadful to think of, but I don't want you to explain.
+I'll ask Mr. Kneebreeches when I'm at my lessons. You might tell me one
+thing, however. What's at the other side of the moon?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's a variety of opinions," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"What are they? Tell me the funniest."</p>
+
+<p>"Some say all the unfinished work of the world is kept there," said the
+cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>That's</i> not funny," said Griselda. "What a messy place it must be!
+Why, even <i>my</i> unfinished work makes quite a heap. I don't like that
+opinion at all, cuckoo. Tell me another."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 227 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
+"I <i>have</i> heard," said the cuckoo, "that among the places there you
+would find the country of the little black dogs. You know what sort of
+creatures those are?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose so," said Griselda, rather reluctantly.</p>
+
+<p>"There are a good many of them in this world, as of course you know,"
+continued the cuckoo. "But up there, they are much worse than here. When
+a child has made a great pet of one down here, I've heard tell the
+fairies take him up there when his parents and nurses think he's
+sleeping quietly in his bed, and make him work hard all night, with his
+own particular little black dog on his back. And it's so dreadfully
+heavy&mdash;for every time he takes it on his back down here it grows a pound
+heavier up there&mdash;that by morning the child is quite worn out. I dare
+say you've noticed how haggered and miserable some ill-tempered children
+get to look&mdash;now you'll know the reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, cuckoo," said Griselda again; <!-- Page 228 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>"but I can't say I like this
+opinion about the other side of the moon any better than the first. If
+you please, I would rather not talk about it any more."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, but it's not so bad an idea after all," said the cuckoo. "Lots of
+children, they say, get quite cured in the country of the little black
+dogs. It's this way&mdash;for every time a child refuses to take the dog on
+his back down here it grows a pound lighter up there, so at last any
+sensible child learns how much better it is to have nothing to say to it
+at all, and gets out of the way of it, you see. Of course, there <i>are</i>
+children whom nothing would cure, I suppose. What becomes of them I
+really can't say. Very likely they get crushed into pancakes by the
+weight of the dogs at last, and then nothing more is ever heard of
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"Horrid!" said Griselda, with a shudder. "Don't let's talk about it any
+more, cuckoo; tell me your <i>own</i> opinion about what there really is on
+the other side of the moon."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 229 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
+The cuckoo was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he stopped short in
+the middle of his flight.</p>
+
+<p>"Would you like to see for yourself, Griselda?" he said. "There would be
+about time to do it," he added to himself, "and it would fulfil her
+other wish, too."</p>
+
+<p>"See the moon for myself, do you mean?" cried Griselda, clasping her
+hands. "I should rather think I would. Will you really take me there,
+cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"To the other side," said the cuckoo. "I couldn't take you to this
+side."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not? Not that I'd care to go to this side as much as to the other;
+for, of course, we can <i>see</i> this side from here. But I'd like to know
+why you couldn't take me there."</p>
+
+<p>"For <i>reasons</i>," said the cuckoo drily. "I'll give you one if you like.
+If I took you to this side of the moon you wouldn't be yourself when you
+got there."</p>
+
+<p>"Who would I be, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "I told you <!-- Page 230 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>once that there are a great
+many things you don't know. Now, I'll tell you something more. There are
+a great many things you're not <i>intended</i> to know."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Griselda. "But do tell me when you're going on again,
+and where you are going to take me to. There's no harm my asking that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said the cuckoo. "I'm going on immediately, and I'm going to take
+you where you wanted to go to, only you must shut your eyes again, and
+lie perfectly still without talking, for I must put on steam&mdash;a good
+deal of steam&mdash;and I can't talk to you. Are you all right?"</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>She had hardly said the words when she seemed to fall asleep. The
+rushing sound in the air all round her increased so greatly that she was
+conscious of nothing else. For a moment or two she tried to remember
+where she was, and where she was going, but it was useless. She forgot
+everything, and knew<!-- Page 231 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> nothing more of what was passing till&mdash;till she
+heard the cuckoo again.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo; wake up, Griselda," he said.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda sat up.</p>
+
+<p>Where was she?</p>
+
+<p>Not certainly where she had been when she went to sleep. Not on the
+cuckoo's back, for there he was standing beside her, as tiny as usual.
+Either he had grown little again, or she had grown big&mdash;which, she
+supposed, it did not much matter. Only it was very queer!</p>
+
+<p>"Where am I, cuckoo?" she said.</p>
+
+<p>"Where you wished to be," he replied. "Look about you and see."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda looked about her. What did she see? Something that I can only
+give you a faint idea of, children; something so strange and unlike what
+she had ever seen before, that only in a dream could you see it as
+Griselda saw it. And yet <i>why</i> it seemed to her so strange and unnatural
+I cannot well explain; <!-- Page 232 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>if I could, my words would be as good as
+pictures, which I know they are not.</p>
+
+<p>After all, it was only the sea she saw; but such a great, strange,
+silent sea, for there were no waves. Griselda was seated on the shore,
+close beside the water's edge, but it did not come lapping up to her
+feet in the pretty, coaxing way that <i>our</i> sea does when it is in a good
+humour. There were here and there faint ripples on the surface, caused
+by the slight breezes which now and then came softly round Griselda's
+face, but that was all. King Canute might have sat "from then till now"
+by this still, lifeless ocean without the chance of reading his silly
+attendants a lesson&mdash;if, indeed, there ever were such silly people,
+which I very much doubt.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda gazed with all her eyes. Then she suddenly gave a little
+shiver.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "You have the mantle on&mdash;you're
+not cold?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda, "I'm not cold; but somehow, cuckoo, I feel a little
+frightened. <!-- Page 233 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>The sea is so strange, and so dreadfully big; and the light
+is so queer, too. What is the light, cuckoo? It isn't moonlight, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "You can't both have your cake and eat
+it, Griselda. Look up at the sky. There's no moon there, is there?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda; "but what lots of stars, cuckoo. The light comes
+from them, I suppose? And where's the sun, cuckoo? Will it be rising
+soon? It isn't always like this up here, is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Bless you, no," said the cuckoo. "There's sun enough, and rather too
+much, sometimes. How would you like a day a fortnight long, and nights
+to match? If it had been daytime here just now, I couldn't have brought
+you. It's just about the very middle of the night now, and in about a
+week of <i>your</i> days the sun will begin to rise, because, you see&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, <i>dear</i> cuckoo, please don't explain!" cried Griselda. "I'll promise
+to ask Mr. Kneebreeches, I will indeed. In fact, he was <!-- Page 234 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>telling me
+something just like it to-day or yesterday&mdash;which should I say?&mdash;at my
+astronomy lesson. And that makes it so strange that you should have
+brought me up here to-night to see for myself, doesn't it, cuckoo?"</p>
+
+<p>"An odd coincidence," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"What <i>would</i> Mr. Kneebreeches think if I told him where I had been?"
+continued Griselda. "Only, you see, cuckoo, I never tell anybody about
+what I see when I am with you."</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied the cuckoo; "better not. ('Not that you could if you
+tried,' he added to himself.) You're not frightened now, Griselda, are
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't think I am," she replied. "But, cuckoo, isn't this sea
+<i>awfully</i> big?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty well," said the cuckoo. "Just half, or nearly half, the size of
+the moon; and, no doubt, Mr. Kneebreeches has told you that the moon's
+diameter and circumference are respec&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 235 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
+"Oh <i>don't</i>, cuckoo!" interrupted Griselda, beseechingly. "I want to
+enjoy myself, and not to have lessons. Tell me something funny, cuckoo.
+Are there any mermaids in the moon-sea?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"What a stupid way to answer," said Griselda. "There's no sense in that;
+there either must be or must not be. There couldn't be half mermaids,"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know about that," replied the cuckoo. "They might have been
+here once and have left their tails behind them, like Bopeep's sheep,
+you know; and some day they might be coming to find them again, you
+know. That would do for 'not exactly,' wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," said Griselda. "Tell me, are there any
+mermaids, or fairies, or water-sprites, or any of those sort of
+creatures here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I must still say 'not exactly,'" said the cuckoo. "There are beings
+here, or rather<!-- Page 236 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> there have been, and there may be again; but you,
+Griselda, can know no more than this."</p>
+
+<p>His tone was rather solemn, and again Griselda felt a little "eerie."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a dreadfully long way from home, any way," she said. "I feel as
+if, when I go back, I shall perhaps find I have been away fifty years or
+so, like the little boy in the fairy story. Cuckoo, I think I would like
+to go home. Mayn't I get on your back again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Presently," said the cuckoo. "Don't be uneasy, Griselda. Perhaps I'll
+take you home by a short cut."</p>
+
+<p>"Was ever any child here before?" asked Griselda, after a little pause.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"And did they get safe home again?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quite," said the cuckoo. "It's so silly of you, Griselda, to have all
+these ideas still about far and near, and big and little, and long and
+short, after all I've taught you and all you've seen."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 237 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
+"I'm very sorry," said Griselda humbly; "but you see, cuckoo, I can't
+help it. I suppose I'm made so."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps," said the cuckoo, meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent for a minute. Then he spoke again. "Look over there,
+Griselda," he said. "There's the short cut."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda looked. Far, far over the sea, in the silent distance, she saw
+a tiny speck of light. It was very tiny; but yet the strange thing was
+that, far away as it appeared, and minute as it was, it seemed to throw
+off a thread of light to Griselda's very feet&mdash;right across the great
+sheet of faintly gleaming water. And as Griselda looked, the thread
+seemed to widen and grow, becoming at the same time brighter and
+clearer, till at last it lay before her like a path of glowing light.</p>
+
+<p>"Am I to walk along there?" she said softly to the cuckoo.</p>
+
+<p>"No," he replied; "wait."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda waited, looking still, and presently in the middle of the
+shining streak she saw <!-- Page 238 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>something slowly moving&mdash;something from which the
+light came, for the nearer it got to her the shorter grew the glowing
+path, and behind the moving object the sea looked no brighter than
+before it had appeared.</p>
+
+<p>At last&mdash;at last, it came quite near&mdash;near enough for Griselda to
+distinguish clearly what it was.</p>
+
+<p>It was a little boat&mdash;the prettiest, the loveliest little boat that ever
+was seen; and it was rowed by a little figure that at first sight
+Griselda felt certain was a fairy. For it was a child with bright hair
+and silvery wings, which with every movement sparkled and shone like a
+thousand diamonds.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda sprang up and clapped her hands with delight. At the sound, the
+child in the boat turned and looked at her. For one instant she could
+not remember where she had seen him before; then she exclaimed,
+joyfully&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"It is Phil! Oh, cuckoo, it is Phil. Have you turned into a fairy,
+Phil?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 239 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figcenter">
+<a href="images/illus239.jpg"><img src="images/illus239-thumb.jpg"
+width="221" height="300"
+alt="IT WAS ROWED BY A LITTLE FIGURE" title="" /></a>
+<br /><span class="caption">it was rowed by a little figure</span>
+</div>
+<p><!-- Page 240 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span><br /></p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 241 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
+But, alas, as she spoke the light faded away, the boy's figure
+disappeared, the sea and the shore and the sky were all as they had been
+before, lighted only by the faint, strange gleaming of the stars. Only
+the boat remained. Griselda saw it close to her, in the shallow water, a
+few feet from where she stood.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo," she exclaimed in a tone of reproach and disappointment, "where
+is Phil gone? Why did you send him away?"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't send him away," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Never
+mind, but get into the boat. It'll be all right, you'll see."</p>
+
+<p>"But are we to go away and leave Phil here, all alone at the other side
+of the moon?" said Griselda, feeling ready to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you silly girl!" said the cuckoo. "Phil's all right, and in some
+ways he has a great deal more sense than you, I can tell you. Get into
+the boat and make yourself comfortable; lie down at the bottom and cover
+<!-- Page 242 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
+yourself up with the mantle. You needn't be afraid of wetting your feet
+a little, moon water never gives cold. There, now."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda did as she was told. She was beginning to feel rather tired,
+and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with
+the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her.</p>
+
+<p>"Who will row?" she said sleepily. "<i>You</i> can't, cuckoo, with your tiny
+little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never
+knew.</p>
+
+<p>Off they glided somehow, but it seemed to Griselda that <i>somebody</i>
+rowed, for she heard the soft dip, dip of the oars as they went along,
+so regularly that she couldn't help beginning to count in time&mdash;one,
+two, three, four&mdash;on, on&mdash;she thought she had got nearly to a hundred,
+when&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 243 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI<br />
+"CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!"</h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus243.png" width="700" height="295" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="tn">
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Children, try to be good!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That is the end of all teaching;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Easily understood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And very easy in preaching.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And if you find it hard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Your efforts you need but double;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nothing deserves reward<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Unless it has given us trouble."<br /></span>
+</div></div></div>
+
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/w.png" width="194" height="200" alt="W" title="" />
+</div><p>hen she forgot everything, and fell fast, fast asleep, to wake, of
+course, in her own little bed as usual!</p>
+
+<p>"One of your tricks again, Mr. Cuckoo," she said to herself with a
+smile. "However, I don't mind. It <i>was</i> a <!-- Page 244 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>short cut home, and it was
+very comfortable in the boat, and I certainly saw a great deal last
+night, and I'm very much obliged to you&mdash;particularly for making it all
+right with Phil about not coming to play with me to-day. Ah! that
+reminds me, I'm in disgrace. I wonder if Aunt Grizzel will really make
+me stay in my room all day. How tired I shall be, and what will Mr.
+Kneebreeches think! But it serves me right. I <i>was</i> very cross and
+rude."</p>
+
+<p>There came a tap at the door. It was Dorcas with the hot water.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning, missie," she said gently, not feeling, to tell the truth,
+very sure as to what sort of a humour "missie" was likely to be found in
+this morning. "I hope you've slept well."</p>
+
+<p>"Exceedingly well, thank you, Dorcas. I've had a delightful night,"
+replied Griselda amiably, smiling to herself at the thought of what
+Dorcas would say if she knew where she had been, and what she had been
+doing since last she saw her.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 245 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
+"That's good news," said Dorcas in a tone of relief; "and I've good news
+for you, too, missie. At least, I hope you'll think it so. Your aunt has
+ordered the carriage for quite early this morning&mdash;so you see she really
+wants to please you, missie, about playing with little Master Phil; and
+if to-morrow's a fine day, we'll be sure to find some way of letting him
+know to come."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Dorcas. I hope it will be all right, and that Lady Lavander
+won't say anything against it. I dare say she won't. I feel ever so much
+happier this morning, Dorcas; and I'm very sorry I was so rude to Aunt
+Grizzel, for of course I know I <i>should</i> obey her."</p>
+
+<p>"That's right, missie," said Dorcas approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems to me, Dorcas," said Griselda dreamily, when, a few minutes
+later, she was standing by the window while the old servant brushed out
+her thick, wavy hair, "it seems to me, Dorcas, that it's <i>all</i> 'obeying
+orders' <!-- Page 246 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>together. There's the sun now, just getting up, and the moon
+just going to bed&mdash;<i>they</i> are always obeying, aren't they? I wonder why
+it should be so hard for people&mdash;for children, at least."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, missie, you do put it a way of your own," replied Dorcas,
+somewhat mystified; "but I see how you mean, I think, and it's quite
+true. And it <i>is</i> a hard lesson to learn."</p>
+
+<p>"I want to learn it <i>well</i>, Dorcas," said Griselda, resolutely. "So will
+you please tell Aunt Grizzel that I'm very sorry about last night, and
+I'll do just as she likes about staying in my room or anything. But, if
+she <i>would</i> let me, I'd far rather go down and do my lessons as usual
+for Mr. Kneebreeches. I won't ask to go out in the garden; but I would
+like to please Aunt Grizzel by doing my lessons <i>very</i> well."</p>
+
+<p>Dorcas was both delighted and astonished. Never had she known her little
+"missie" so altogether submissive and reasonable.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 247 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
+"I only hope the child's not going to be ill," she said to herself. But
+she proved a skilful ambassadress, notwithstanding her misgivings; and
+Griselda's imprisonment confined her only to the bounds of the house and
+terrace walk, instead of within the four walls of her own little room,
+as she had feared.</p>
+
+<p>Lessons <i>were</i> very well done that day, and Mr. Kneebreeches' report was
+all that could be wished.</p>
+
+<p>"I am particularly gratified," he remarked to Miss Grizzel, "by the
+intelligence and interest Miss Griselda displays with regard to the
+study of astronomy, which I have recently begun to give her some
+elementary instruction in. And, indeed, I have no fault to find with the
+way in which any of the young lady's tasks are performed."</p>
+
+<p>"I am extremely glad to hear it," replied Miss Grizzel graciously, and
+the kiss with which she answered Griselda's request for forgiveness was
+a very hearty one.</p>
+
+<p>And it was "all right" about Phil.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 248 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
+Lady Lavander knew all about him; his father and mother were friends of
+hers, for whom she had a great regard, and for some time she had been
+intending to ask the little boy to spend the day at Merrybrow Hall, to
+be introduced to her god-daughter Griselda. So, <i>of course</i>, as Lady
+Lavander knew all about him, there could be no objection to his playing
+in Miss Grizzel's garden!</p>
+
+<p>And "to-morrow" turned out a fine day. So altogether you can imagine
+that Griselda felt very happy and light-hearted as she ran down the
+wood-path to meet her little friend, whose rosy face soon appeared among
+the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>"What did you do yesterday, Phil?" asked Griselda. "Were you sorry not
+to come to play with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Phil mysteriously, "I didn't mind. I was looking for the way
+to fairyland to show you, and I do believe I've found it. Oh, it <i>is</i>
+such a pretty way."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda smiled.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 249 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
+"I'm afraid the way to fairyland isn't so easily found," she said. "But
+I'd like to hear about where you went. Was it far?"</p>
+
+<p>"A good way," said Phil. "Won't you come with me? It's in the wood. I
+can show you quite well, and we can be back by tea-time."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well," said Griselda; and off they set.</p>
+
+<p>Whether it was the way to fairyland or not, it was not to be wondered at
+that little Phil thought so. He led Griselda right across the wood to a
+part where she had never been before. It was pretty rough work part of
+the way. The children had to fight with brambles and bushes, and here
+and there to creep through on hands and knees, and Griselda had to
+remind Phil several times of her promise to his nurse that his clothes
+should not be the worse for his playing with her, to prevent his
+scrambling through "anyhow" and leaving bits of his knickerbockers
+behind him.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 250 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
+But when at last they reached Phil's favourite spot all their troubles
+were forgotten. Oh, how pretty it was! It was a sort of tiny glade in
+the very middle of the wood&mdash;a little green nest enclosed all round by
+trees, and right through it the merry brook came rippling along as if
+rejoicing at getting out into the sunlight again for a while. And all
+the choicest and sweetest of the early summer flowers seemed to be
+collected here in greater variety and profusion than in any other part
+of the wood.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Isn't</i> it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on the
+soft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'm
+sure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland is
+hidden somewhere here, if only we could find it."</p>
+
+<p>"If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but,
+any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come here
+very often."</p>
+
+<p>Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work <!-- Page 251 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>to make themselves a house in
+the centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed it
+very much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood and
+big stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes up
+with bracken and furze.</p>
+
+<p>"And if the fairies <i>do</i> come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleased
+to find a house all ready, won't they?"</p>
+
+<p>Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dry
+leaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it was
+quite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they were
+very hot and very tired and <i>rather</i> dirty. Suddenly a thought struck
+Griselda.</p>
+
+<p>"Phil," she said, "it must be getting late."</p>
+
+<p>"Past tea-time?" he said coolly.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say it is. Look how low down the sun has got. Come, Phil, we
+must be quick. Where is the place we came out of the wood at?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 252 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
+"Here," said Phil, diving at a little opening among the bushes.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda followed him. He had been a good guide hitherto, and she
+certainly could not have found her way alone. They scrambled on for some
+way, then the bushes suddenly seemed to grow less thick, and in a minute
+they came out upon a little path.</p>
+
+<p>"Phil," said Griselda, "this isn't the way we came."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't it?" said Phil, looking about him. "Then we must have comed the
+wrong way."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid so," said Griselda, "and it seems to be so late already. I'm
+so sorry, for Aunt Grizzel will be vexed, and I did so want to please
+her. Will your nurse be vexed, Phil?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care if she are," replied Phil valiantly.</p>
+
+<p>"You shouldn't say that, Phil. You know we <i>shouldn't</i> have stayed so
+long playing."</p>
+
+<p>"Nebber mind," said Phil. "If it was mother I would mind. Mother's so
+good, <!-- Page 253 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>you don't know. And she never 'colds me, except when I <i>am</i>
+naughty&mdash;so I <i>do</i> mind."</p>
+
+<p>"She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda in
+distress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way
+<i>shall</i> we go?"</p>
+
+<p>They had followed the little path till it came to a point where two
+roads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran across
+the road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda
+stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the
+moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.
+Griselda looked up to the sky.</p>
+
+<p>"To think," she said to herself&mdash;"to think that I should not know my way
+in a little bit of a wood like this&mdash;I that was up at the other side of
+the moon last night."</p>
+
+<p>The remembrance put another thought into her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 254 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
+Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in
+her own.</p>
+
+<p>She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the
+well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so
+clear.</p>
+
+<p>Phil clapped his hands.</p>
+
+<p>"He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way.
+That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pulling
+Griselda along, he darted down the road to the right&mdash;the direction from
+whence came the cry.</p>
+
+<p>They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction,
+but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss&mdash;whenever
+the path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and,
+without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it brought
+them out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate.</p>
+
+<p>"I know the way now, good cuckoo," <!-- Page 255 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alone
+now, if your aunt will be vexed with you."</p>
+
+<p>"No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear.
+I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must be
+me, not you."</p>
+
+<p>There was a little bustle about the door of the farm-house as the
+children wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing together
+receiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse was
+talking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants.</p>
+
+<p>"Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to look
+for him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-night
+of all nights, just when your&mdash;&mdash;I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to the
+parlour at once&mdash;and this little girl, who is she?"</p>
+
+<p>"She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, putting
+on his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have <!-- Page 256 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>some
+supper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie's
+house&mdash;that's what I say."</p>
+
+<p>More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for she was really
+in a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into the
+parlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry that
+broke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A lady
+was standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quickly
+growing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figure
+she was watching for so anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>The noise of the door opening made her look round.</p>
+
+<p>"Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? You
+didn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms.</p>
+
+<p>But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filled
+her eyes as <!-- Page 257 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>for a minute or two she listened to the cooings and
+caressings of the mother and son.</p>
+
+<p>Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She's
+the little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has no
+mother," he added in a lower tone.</p>
+
+<p>The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did not
+seem surprised.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her
+face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's.</p>
+
+<p>And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the
+anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once
+to tell of her being safe at the farm.</p>
+
+<p>But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had had
+some nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested.</p>
+
+<p>"And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she asked
+presently.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 258 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
+"I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland,
+and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come,
+and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained
+Phil.</p>
+
+<p>"And <i>was</i> it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Griselda shook her head as she replied&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough.
+The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it
+for ourselves, mustn't we?"</p>
+
+<p>She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that <i>she</i>
+understood.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly.
+"But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."</p>
+
+<p>Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil
+away, are you?" she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I have come to stay here," she answered; "and Phil's father is
+coming too, <!-- Page 259 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>soon. We are going to live at the White House&mdash;the house on
+the other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad,
+children?"</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<p>Griselda had a curious dream that night&mdash;merely a dream, nothing else.
+She dreamt that the cuckoo came once more; this time, he told her, to
+say "good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>"For you will not need me now," he said. "I leave you in good hands,
+Griselda. You have friends now who will understand you&mdash;friends who will
+help you both to work and to play. Better friends than the mandarins, or
+the butterflies, or even than your faithful old cuckoo."</p>
+
+<p>And when Griselda tried to speak to him, to thank him for his goodness,
+to beg him still sometimes to come to see her, he gently fluttered away.
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo," he warbled; but somehow the last "cuckoo"
+sounded like "good-bye."</p>
+
+<p>In the morning, when Griselda awoke, her <!-- Page 260 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>pillow was wet with tears. Thus
+many stories end. She was happy, very happy in the thought of her kind
+new friends; but there were tears for the one she felt she had said
+farewell to, even though he was only a cuckoo in a clock.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus129.png" width="200" height="206" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><!-- Page 261 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1><a name="THE_CASTLE_IN_THE_LOUGH" id="THE_CASTLE_IN_THE_LOUGH"></a>THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH</h1>
+
+<p><!-- Page 262 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span><br />
+<!-- Page 263 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH</h2>
+
+<h4>A LEGEND OF DONEGAL</h4>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus243.png" width="700" height="295" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft">
+<img src="images/f.png" width="193" height="200" alt="F" title="" />
+</div><p>ather," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+castle in the lough."</p>
+
+<p>Dermot M'Swyne was a little lad, with blue soft eyes and bright fair
+hair. He was the only son of Brian, the chief of the M'Swynes, and
+people used sometimes to say scornfully that he was a poor puny son to
+come of such a father, for he was not big and burly, as a M'Swyne ought
+to be, but slim and fair, and like a girl. However, Brian M'Swyne loved
+his fair-haired boy, and would have given up <!-- Page 264 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>most other pleasures in the
+world for the pleasure of having the little fellow by his side and
+listening to his prattling voice. He was like his mother, those said who
+remembered the blue-eyed stranger whom Brian M'Swyne had brought home
+ten years before as his wife to Doe Castle, in Donegal, and who had
+pined there for a few years and then died; and perhaps it was for her
+sake that the child was so dear to the rough old chief. He was never
+tired of having the little lad beside him, and many a time he would
+carry him about and cradle him in his arms, and pass his big fingers
+through the boy's golden curls, and let the little hands play with his
+beard.</p>
+
+<p>Sitting together in the firelight on winter nights, while the peat fire
+was burning on the floor, and the wind, sweeping across Lough Eske, went
+wailing round the castle walls and sighing in the leafless trees, the
+boy would often get his father to tell him stories of the country-side.
+There were many strange legends treasured up in the memories of all
+<!-- Page 265 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
+old inhabitants of the place, wild stories of enchantments, or of fairies or
+banshees; and little Dermot would never tire of listening to these
+tales. Sometimes, when he had heard some only half-finished story, he
+would go dreaming on and on to himself about it, till he had woven an
+ending, or a dozen endings, to it in his own brain.</p>
+
+<p>But of all the tales to which he used to listen there was one that
+perhaps, more than any other, he liked to hear&mdash;the story of the
+enchanted castle swallowed up by Lough Belshade. There, down beneath the
+waters of the dark lough, into which he had looked so often, was the
+castle standing still, its gates and towers and walls all perfect, just
+as it had stood upon the earth, the very fires still alight that had
+been burning on its hearths, and&mdash;more wonderful than all&mdash;the people
+who had been sunk in it, though fixed and motionless in their enchanted
+sleep, alive too. It was a wonder of wonders; the child was never tired
+of thinking of it, and dreaming of the time in <!-- Page 266 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>which the enchantment
+should be broken, and of the person who should break it; for, strangest
+of all, the story said that they must sleep until a M'Swyne should come
+and wake them. But what M'Swyne would do it? And how was it to be done?
+"Father," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+enchanted castle in the lough."</p>
+
+<p>The legend was thus: On the shores of the desolate lough there had once
+stood a great castle, where lived a beautiful maiden called Eileen. Her
+father was the chieftain of a clan, and she was his only child. Many
+young lovers sought her, but she cared for none of them. At last there
+came to the castle a noble-looking knight. He had traveled from a far
+country, he said, and he began soon to tell wonderful stories to Eileen
+of the beauty and the richness of that land of his; how the skies there
+were always blue, and the sun always shone, and lords and ladies lived,
+not in rough stone-hewn castles like these, but in palaces all bright
+with marbles <!-- Page 267 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>and precious stones; and how their lives were all a long
+delight, with music and dancing and all pleasant things.</p>
+
+<p>Eileen listened while he told these tales to her, till she began to long
+to see his country; and her heart yearned for something brighter and
+better than the sombre life she led by the shores of the dark lough; and
+so when, after a time, the knight one day told her that he loved her,
+she gave him her promise to go to his home with him and marry him.</p>
+
+<p>She was very contented for a little while after she had promised to be
+the knight's wife, and spent nearly all her time in talking to her lover
+and in picturing to herself the new and beautiful things that she was
+going to see. She was very happy, on the whole; though now and then, to
+tell the truth, as time went on, she began to be a little puzzled and
+surprised by certain things that the knight did, and certain odd habits
+that he had; for, in fact, he had some very odd habits, indeed, and,
+charming and handsome as he<!-- Page 268 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> was, conducted himself occasionally in
+really quite a singular way.</p>
+
+<p>For instance, it was a curious fact that he never could bear the sight
+of a dog; and if ever one came near him (and as there were a good many
+dogs about the castle, it was quite impossible to keep them from coming
+near him now and then) he would set his teeth, and rise slowly from his
+seat, and begin to make a low hissing noise, craning his neck forward,
+and swelling and rounding his back in such an extraordinary way that the
+first time Eileen saw him doing it she thought he was going to have a
+fit, and was quite alarmed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear, I&mdash;I'm afraid you're ill!" she exclaimed, getting upon her
+feet and feeling very uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, it's only&mdash;it's only&mdash;the dog," gasped the knight, gripping his
+seat with both hands, as if it needed the greatest effort to keep
+himself still. "Hiss&mdash;s&mdash;s&mdash;s! I've such a terrible dislike to dogs.
+It's&mdash;it's in <!-- Page 269 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>my family," said the poor young man; and he could not
+recover his composure at all till the little animal that had disturbed
+him was carried away.</p>
+
+<p>Then he had such a strange fashion of amusing himself in his own room
+where he slept. It was a spacious room, hung all round with arras; and
+often, after the household had gone to bed, those who slept nearest to
+the knight were awakened out of their sleep by the noise he made in
+running up and down, and here and there; scudding about over the floor,
+and even&mdash;as far as could be guessed by the sounds&mdash;clambering up the
+walls, just as though, instead of being a gracious high-bred young
+gentleman, he had been the veriest tomboy.</p>
+
+<p>"I fear, Sir Knight, you do not always rest easily in your apartment,"
+Eileen's old father said to him one morning after he had been making
+even more disturbance of this sort than usual. "We have rough ways here
+in the North, and perhaps the arrangement of <!-- Page 270 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>your sleeping quarters is
+not exactly to your liking?"</p>
+
+<p>But the knight, when he began to say this, interrupted him hastily, and
+declared that he had never slept more comfortably in any room in his
+life, or more peacefully, he said; he was seldom conscious of even so
+much as awakening once. Of course, when he said this, Eileen and her
+father could only open their eyes, and come to the conclusion that the
+poor young knight was a somnambulist, and afflicted with the habit of
+running and leaping in his sleep.</p>
+
+<p>Again, too, out-of-doors, it was very odd how it affected him to hear
+the birds sing. Whenever they began their songs, all sorts of nervous
+twitchings would come over him, and he would lick his lips and make
+convulsive movements with his hands; and his attention would become so
+distracted that he would quite lose the thread of his discourse if he
+were talking, or the thread of Eileen's, if she were talking to him. "It
+is because I <!-- Page 271 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>enjoy hearing them so much," he said once; and of course
+when he said so Eileen could only believe him; yet she could not help
+wishing he would show his pleasure in some other way than this curious
+one of setting his teeth and rolling his eyes, and looking much more as
+if he wanted to eat the birds than to listen to them.</p>
+
+<p>Still, in spite of these and a good many other peculiarities, the young
+knight was very charming, and Eileen was very fond of him. They used to
+spend the happiest days together, wandering about the wild and beautiful
+country, often sitting for hours on the rocky shores of the dark lough,
+looking into the deep still water at their feet. It was a wild,
+romantic, lonely place, shut out from the sunlight by great granite
+cliffs that threw their dark weird shadows over it.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know there is a prophecy that our castle shall stand one day
+here in the middle of the lough?" Eileen said, laughing, once. "I don't
+know how it is to be done, but we<!-- Page 272 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> are to be planted somehow in the
+middle of the water. That is what the people say. I shouldn't like to
+live here then. How gloomy it would be to have those great shadows
+always over us!" and the girl shivered a little, and stole her hand into
+her lover's, and they began to talk about the far different place where
+she should live; his beautiful palace, far away in the sunny country
+beyond the sea. She was never weary of hearing about the new place and
+new life that she was going to, and all the beauty and happiness that
+were going to be hers.</p>
+
+<p>So time went on, until at last the day before the marriage-day came.
+Eileen had been showing her lover all her ornaments; she had a great
+number of very precious ones, and, to please him and amuse herself, she
+had been putting them all on, loading herself with armlets, and
+bracelets, and heavy chains of gold, such as the old Irish princesses
+used to wear, till she looked as gorgeous as a princess herself.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 273 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
+It was a sunny summer day, and she sat thinking to herself, "My married
+life will begin so soon now&mdash;the new, beautiful, strange life&mdash;and I
+will wear these ornaments in the midst of it; but where everything else
+is so lovely, will he think me then as lovely as he does now?"</p>
+
+<p>Presently she glanced up, with a little shyness and a little vanity,
+just to see if he was looking at and thinking of her; but as she lifted
+up her head, instead of finding that his eyes were resting on her, she
+found&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Well, she found that the knight was certainly not thinking of her one
+bit. He was sitting staring fixedly at one corner of the apartment, with
+his lips working in the oddest fashion; twitching this way and that, and
+parting and showing his teeth, while he was clawing with his hands the
+chair on which he sat.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me!" said Eileen rather sharply and pettishly, "what is the matter
+with you?"</p>
+
+<p>Eileen spoke pretty crossly; for as she had <!-- Page 274 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>on various previous
+occasions seen the knight conduct himself in this sort of way, her
+feeling was less of alarm at the sight of him than simply of annoyance
+that at this moment, when she herself had been thinking of him so
+tenderly, he could be giving his attention to any other thing. "What is
+the matter with you?" she said; and she raised herself in her chair and
+turned round her head to see if she could perceive anything worth
+looking at in that corner into which the knight was staring almost as if
+the eyes would leap out of his head.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, there's nothing there but a mouse!" she said contemptuously, when
+she had looked and listened for a moment, and heard only a little faint
+scratching behind the tapestry.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I believe not; oh, no, nothing but a mouse," replied the knight
+hurriedly; but still he did not take his eyes from the spot, and he
+moved from side to side in his chair, and twitched his head from right
+to left, and <!-- Page 275 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>looked altogether as if he hardly knew what he was about.</p>
+
+<p>"And I am sure a mouse is a most harmless thing," said Eileen.</p>
+
+<p>"Harmless? Oh! delicious!" replied the knight, with so much unction that
+Eileen, in her turn, opened her eyes and stared. "Delicious! quite
+delicious!" murmured the knight again.</p>
+
+<p>But after a moment or two more, all at once he seemed to recollect
+himself, and made a great effort, and withdrew his eyes from the corner
+where the mouse was still making a little feeble scratching.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean a&mdash;a most interesting animal," he said. "I have always felt with
+regard to mice&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But just at this instant the mouse poked out his little head from
+beneath the tapestry, and the knight leaped to his feet as if he was
+shot.</p>
+
+<p>"Hiss&mdash;s&mdash;s! skier&mdash;r&mdash;r! hiss&mdash;s&mdash;s&mdash;s!" he cried; and&mdash;could Eileen
+believe her eyes?<!-- Page 276 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>&mdash;for one instant she saw the knight flash past her,
+and then there was nothing living in the room besides her but a great
+black cat clinging by his claws half-way up the arras, and a little
+brown mouse between his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>Of course the only thing that Eileen could do was to faint, and so she
+fainted, and it was six hours before she came to herself again. In the
+mean time nobody in the world knew what had happened; and when she
+opened her eyes and began to cry out about a terrible black cat, they
+all thought she had gone out of her mind.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear child, I assure you there is no such thing in the house as a
+black cat," her father said uneasily to her, trying to soothe her in the
+best way he could.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, he turned into a black cat," cried Eileen.</p>
+
+<p>"Who turned into a black cat?" asked her father.</p>
+
+<p>"The knight did," sobbed Eileen.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 277 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
+And then the poor old father went out of the room, thinking that his
+daughter was going mad.</p>
+
+<p>"She is quite beside herself; she says that you are not a man, but a
+cat," he said sorrowfully to the young knight, whom he met standing
+outside his daughter's room. "What in the world could have put such
+thoughts into her head? Not a thing will she talk about but black cats."</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see her; I will bring her to her right mind," said the knight.</p>
+
+<p>"I doubt it very much," replied the chief; but as he did not know what
+else to do, he let him go into the room, and the knight went in softly
+and closed the door, and went up to the couch on which Eileen lay. She
+lay with her eyes closed, and with all her gold chains still upon her
+neck and arms; and the knight, because he trod softly, had come quite up
+to her side before she knew that he was there. But the moment she opened
+her eyes and saw him, she gave such a scream that it quite made <!-- Page 278 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>him
+leap; and if he had not bolted the door every creature in the castle
+would have rushed into the room at the sound of it. Fortunately for him,
+however, he had bolted the door; and as it was a very stout door, made
+of strong oak, Eileen might have screamed for an hour before anybody
+could have burst it open. As soon, therefore, as the knight had
+recovered from the start she gave him, he quietly took a chair and sat
+down by her side.</p>
+
+<p>"Eileen," he said, beginning to speak at once&mdash;for probably he felt that
+the matter he had come to mention was rather a painful and a delicate
+one, and the more quickly he could get over what he had to say the
+better&mdash;"Eileen, you have unhappily to-day seen me under&mdash;ahem!&mdash;under
+an unaccustomed shape&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>He had only got so far as this, when Eileen gave another shriek and
+covered her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p>"I say," repeated the knight, in a tone of some annoyance, and raising
+his voice, for <!-- Page 279 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>Eileen was making such a noise that it was really
+necessary to speak pretty loudly&mdash;"I say you have unfortunately seen me
+to-day under a shape that you were not prepared for; but I have come, my
+love, to assure you that the&mdash;transformation&mdash;was purely accidental&mdash;a
+mere blunder of a moment&mdash;an occurrence that shall never be repeated in
+your sight. Look up to me again, Eileen, and do not let this eve of our
+marriage-day&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But what the knight had got to say about the eve of their marriage-day
+Eileen never heard, for as soon as he had reached these words she gave
+another shriek so loud that he jumped upon his seat.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think that I will ever marry a black cat?" cried Eileen, fixing
+her eyes with a look of horror on his face.</p>
+
+<p>"Eileen, take care!" exclaimed the knight sternly. "Take care how you
+anger me, or it will be the worse for you."</p>
+
+<p>"The worse for me! Do you think I am afraid of you?" said Eileen with
+her eyes all <!-- Page 280 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>flashing, for she had a high enough spirit, and was not
+going to allow herself to be forced to marry a black cat, let the knight
+say what he would. She rose from her couch and would have sprung to the
+ground, if all at once the knight had not bent forward and taken her by
+her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Eileen," said the knight, holding her fast and looking into her face,
+"Eileen, will you be my wife?"</p>
+
+<p>"I would sooner die!" cried Eileen.</p>
+
+<p>"Eileen," cried the knight passionately, "I love you! Do not break your
+promise to me. Forget what you have seen. I am a powerful magician. I
+will make you happy. I will give you all you want. Be my wife."</p>
+
+<p>"Never!" cried Eileen.</p>
+
+<p>"Then you have sealed your fate!" exclaimed the knight fiercely; and
+suddenly he rose and extended his arms, and said some strange words that
+Eileen did not understand; and all at once it appeared to her as if some
+thick white pall were spreading over<!-- Page 281 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> her, and her eyelids began to
+close, and involuntarily she sank back.</p>
+
+<p>Once more, but as if in a dream, she heard the knight's voice.</p>
+
+<p>"If you do not become my wife," he said, "you shall never be the wife of
+any living man. The black cat can hold his own. Sleep here till another
+lover comes to woo you."</p>
+
+<p>A mocking laugh rang through the room&mdash;and then Eileen heard no more. It
+seemed to her that her life was passing away. A strange feeling came to
+her, as if she were sinking through the air; there was a sound in her
+ears of rushing water; and then all recollection and all consciousness
+ceased.</p>
+
+<p>Some travelers passing that evening by the lough gazed at the spot on
+which the castle had stood, and rubbed their eyes in wild surprise, for
+there was no castle there, but only a bare tract of desolate, waste
+ground. The prophecy had been fulfilled; the castle had been lifted up
+from its foundation and sunk in the waters of the lough.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 282 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
+This was the story that Dermot used to listen to as he sat in his
+father's hall on winter nights&mdash;a wild old story, very strange, and
+sweet too, as well as strange. For they were living still, the legend
+always said&mdash;the chief and his household, and beautiful Eileen; not dead
+at all, but only sleeping an enchanted sleep, till some one of the
+M'Swynes should come and kill the black cat who guarded them, and set
+them free. Under those dark, deep waters, asleep for three hundred
+years, lay Eileen, with all her massive ornaments on her neck and arms,
+and red-gold Irish hair. How often did the boy think of her, and picture
+to himself the motionless face, with its closed, waiting eyes, and yearn
+to see it. Asleep there for three hundred years! His heart used to burn
+at the imagination. In all these centuries had no M'Swyne been found
+bold enough to find the black cat and kill him? Could it be so hard a
+thing to kill a black cat? the little fellow thought.</p>
+
+<p>"I'd kill him myself if only I had the <!-- Page 283 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>chance," he said one day; and
+when he said that his father laughed.</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, my lad, you might kill him if you had the chance&mdash;but how would you
+get the chance?" he asked him. "Do you think the magician would be fool
+enough to leave his watch over the lough and put himself in your way?
+Kill him? Yes, we could any of us kill him if we could catch him; but
+three hundred years have passed away and nobody has ever caught him
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I may do it some day, when I am grown a man," Dermot said.</p>
+
+<p>So he went on dreaming over the old legend, and weaving out of his own
+brain an ending to it. What if it should be, indeed, his lot to awake
+Eileen from her enchanted sleep? He used to wander often by the shores
+of the dark little lough and gaze into the shadowy waters. Many a time,
+too, he would sail across them, leaning down over his boat's side, to
+try in vain to catch some glimpse of the buried castle's walls or
+towers. <!-- Page 284 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>Once or twice&mdash;it might have been mere fancy&mdash;it seemed to him
+as if he saw some dark thing below the surface, and he would cry aloud,
+"The cat! I see the black cat!" But they only laughed at him when he
+returned home and said this. "It was only a big fish at the bottom of
+the water, my boy," his father would reply.</p>
+
+<p>When he was a boy he talked of this story often and was never weary of
+asking questions concerning it; but presently, as he grew older, he grew
+more reserved and shy, and when he spoke about Eileen the color used to
+come into his cheek. "Why, boy, are you falling in love with her?" his
+father said to him one day. "Are there not unbewitched maidens enough to
+please you on the face of the earth, but you must take a fancy to a
+bewitched one lying asleep at the bottom of the lough?" and he laughed
+aloud at him. After that day Dermot never spoke of Eileen in his
+father's hearing. But although he ceased to speak of her, yet only the
+more did<!-- Page 285 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> he think and dream about her; and the older he grew, the less
+did he seem to care for any of those unbewitched maidens of whom his
+father had talked; and the only maiden of whom he thought with love and
+longing was this one who lay asleep in the enchanted castle in the
+lough.</p>
+
+<p>So the years passed on, and in time Dermot's father died, and the young
+man became chieftain of his clan. He was straight and tall, with blue,
+clear eyes, and a frank, fair face. Some of the M'Swynes, who were a
+rough, burly race, looked scornfully on him and said that he was fitter
+to make love to ladies than to head men on a battle-field; but they
+wronged him when they said that, for no braver soldier than Dermot had
+ever led their clan. He was both brave and gentle too, and courteous,
+and tender, and kind; and as for being only fit to make love to
+ladies&mdash;why, making love to ladies was almost the only thing he never
+did.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you not going to bring home a wife to <!-- Page 286 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>the old house, my son?" said
+his foster-mother, an old woman who had lived with him all her life.
+"Before I die I'd love to dandle a child of yours upon my knee."</p>
+
+<p>But Dermot only shook his head. "My wife, I fear, will be hard to win. I
+may have to wait for her all my days." And then, after a little while,
+when the old woman still went on talking to him, "How can I marry when
+my love has been asleep these three hundred years?"</p>
+
+<p>This was the first time that he had spoken about Eileen for many a day,
+and the old nurse had thought, like everybody else, that he had
+forgotten that old legend and all the foolish fancies of his youth.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting at her spinning-wheel, but she dropped the thread and
+folded her hands sadly on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>"My son, why think on her that's as good as dead? Even if you could win
+her, would you take a bewitched maiden to be your wife?"</p>
+
+<p>It was a summer's day, and Dermot stood <!-- Page 287 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>looking far away through the
+sunshine toward where, though he could not see it, the enchanted castle
+lay. He had stood in that same place a thousand times, looking toward
+it, dreaming over the old tale.</p>
+
+<p>For several minutes he made no answer to what the old woman had said;
+then all at once he turned round to her.</p>
+
+<p>"Nurse," he said passionately, "I have adored her for twenty years. Ever
+since I first stood at your knees, and you told me of her, she has been
+the one love of my heart. Unless I can marry her, I will never marry any
+woman in this world." He came to the old woman's side, and though he was
+a full-grown man, he put his arms about her neck. "Nurse, you have a
+keen woman's wit; cannot you help me with it?" he said. "I have wandered
+round the lough by day and night and challenged the magician to come and
+try his power against me, but he does not hear me, or he will not come.
+How can I reach him through those dark, cruel waters and force <!-- Page 288 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>him to
+come out of them and fight with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Foolish lad!" the old woman said. She was a wise old woman, but she
+believed as much as everybody else did in the legend of the castle in
+the lough. "What has he to gain that he need come up and fight with you?
+Do you think the black cat's such a fool as to heed your ranting and
+your challenging?"</p>
+
+<p>"But what else can I do?"</p>
+
+<p>The old woman took her thread into her hands again, and sat spinning for
+two or three minutes without answering a word. She was a sensible old
+woman, and it seemed to her a sad pity that a fine young man like her
+foster-son should waste his life in pining for the love of a maiden who
+had lain asleep and enchanted for three hundred years. Yet the nurse
+loved him so dearly that she could not bear to cross him in anything, or
+to refuse to do anything that he asked. So she sat spinning and thinking
+for a little while, and then said:</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 289 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
+"It was a mouse that made him show himself in his own shape first, and
+it's few mice he can be catching, I guess, down in the bottom of the
+lough. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you half a dozen mice in a
+bag tomorrow, and you can let them loose when you get to the water side,
+and see if that will bring him up."</p>
+
+<p>Well, Dermot did not think very much of this plan; but still, as he had
+asked the old woman to help him, he felt that he could not avoid taking
+her advice, and so the next morning his nurse gave him a bag with half a
+dozen mice in it, and he carried it with him to the lough. But, alas! as
+soon as ever he had opened the bag, all the six mice rushed away like
+lightning and were out of sight in a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"That chance is soon ended," Dermot said mournfully to himself; so he
+took back the empty bag to his nurse, and told her what had happened.</p>
+
+<p>"You goose, why didn't you let them out <!-- Page 290 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>one by one?" inquired she. "Sure
+they would run when you opened the bag. You should have made play with
+them."</p>
+
+<p>"To be sure, so I should; but I never thought of that. I'll do better
+next time."</p>
+
+<p>So next day the woman brought him the bag again, filled this time with
+fat rats, and he took it to the lough, and laid it down at the water
+side, and opened the mouth of it just wide enough for one of the rats to
+put out his nose; and then he sat and watched, and watched, letting the
+rats run away one by one; but though he sat watching for the whole day,
+not a sign did he ever see of the black cat. At last he came
+disconsolately home again with the empty bag on his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, my son, we'll try something else to-morrow," said nurse
+cheerfully. So next morning she brought him a fishing-rod, and a large
+piece of toasted cheese. "Take this to the lough and bait your hook with
+it," she said, "and see if the black cat won't come up and take a bite.
+All cats like cheese."</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 291 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
+Dermot went immediately to the lough, baited his hook, and threw the
+line out into the water. After a few minutes his heart gave a great
+jump, for he felt a sudden pull at the line. He drew it in softly and
+cautiously; but when he got it to the water's edge there was nothing on
+his hook but a large flat fish&mdash;and the toasted cheese had all broken
+away and was gone.</p>
+
+<p>"What a foolish old woman, to give me toasted cheese to put into water!"
+he said to himself; then he heaved a sigh, threw the fish into his bag,
+and once more went sadly away.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say the villain of a cat has breakfasted nicely off the toasted
+cheese without the trouble of coming for it," he said bitterly, when he
+got home.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind; we'll maybe have better luck to-morrow," replied the nurse.
+"I dreamed a dream, and in the dream I thought of something else to do."</p>
+
+<p>So early next morning she brought a fat black pig.</p>
+
+<p><!-- Page 292 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
+"What in the world am I to do with this?" said Dermot sharply.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, now, be easy, my dear," said the old woman coaxingly. "Just take it
+down to the lough and roast it there, and sure when the cat smells the
+fine smell of it he'll come up for a taste."</p>
+
+<p>Now Dermot was getting rather tired of doing all these odd things; and
+though he had readily gone to the lough with the mice and the rats and
+the toasted cheese, yet he did not at all relish the notion of carrying
+a live pig across the country with him for two or three miles. However,
+he was very good-natured, and so, although he did not himself think that
+any good would come of it, after a little while he let his nurse
+persuade him to take the pig. The old woman tied a string about its leg,
+and he took it to the lough, and as soon as he got there he collected
+some sticks and peat together and, building up a good big pile, set
+light to it. Then he killed the pig with his hunting-knife and hung it
+up before the fire to <!-- Page 293 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>roast. Presently a most savory smell began to fill
+the air.</p>
+
+<p>Dermot withdrew a little way, sat down behind a jutting piece of rock,
+and watched, his eyes never leaving the smooth surface of the lough; but
+minute after minute passed and not the slightest movement stirred it.
+From time to time he made up his fire afresh, and turned his pig from
+side to side. The whole air around grew full of the smell of roasting
+meat, so savory that, being hungry, it made Dermot's own mouth water;
+but still&mdash;there lay the lough, quiet and smooth, and undisturbed as
+glass, with only the dark shadows of the silent rocks lying across it.</p>
+
+<p>At last the pig was cooked and ready, and Dermot rose and drew it from
+the fire.</p>
+
+<p>"I may as well make my own dinner off it," he thought sorrowfully to
+himself, "for nobody else will come to have a share of it." So he took
+his knife and cut himself a juicy slice, and sat down again, concealing
+himself behind the rock, with his bow and arrow by <!-- Page 294 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>his side, and had
+just lifted the first morsel to his lips, when&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>Down fell the untasted meat upon the ground, and his heart leaped to his
+lips, for surely something at last was stirring the waters! The oily
+surface had broken into circles; there was a movement, a little splash,
+a sudden vision of something black. A moment or two he sat breathlessly
+gazing; and then&mdash;was he asleep, or was he waking, and really saw
+it?&mdash;he saw above the water a black cat's head. Black head, black paws
+put out to swim, black back, black tail.</p>
+
+<p>Dermot took his bow up in his hand, and tried to fit an arrow to it; but
+his hand shook, and for a few moments he could not draw. Slowly the
+creature swam to the water's edge, and, reaching it, planted its feet
+upon the earth, and looked warily, with green, watchful eye, all round;
+then, shaking itself&mdash;and the water seemed to glide off its black fur as
+off a duck's back&mdash;it licked its lips, and, giving one great sweep into
+the air, it bounded <!-- Page 295 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>forward to where the roasted pig was smoking on the
+ground. For a moment Dermot saw it, with its tail high in the air and
+its tongue stretched out to lick the crackling; and then, sharp and
+sure, whiz! went an arrow from his bow; and the next moment, stretched
+flat upon the ground, after one great dismal howl, lay the man-cat, or
+cat-man, with an arrow in his heart.</p>
+
+<p>Dermot sprang to his feet, and, rushing to the creature's side, caught
+him by the throat; but he was dead already; only the great, wide-opened,
+green, fierce eyes seemed to shoot out an almost human look of hatred
+and despair, before they closed forever. The young chieftain took up the
+beast, looked at it, and with all his might flung it from him into the
+lough; then turning round, he stretched his arms out passionately.</p>
+
+<p>"Eileen! Eileen!" he cried aloud; and as though that word had broken the
+spell, all at once&mdash;oh, wonderful sight!&mdash;the enchanted castle began to
+rise. Higher it rose and <!-- Page 296 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>higher; one little turret first; then pinnacles
+and tower and roof; then strong stone walls; until, complete, it stood
+upon the surface of the lough like a strange floating ship. And then
+slowly and gently it drifted to the shore and, rising at the water's
+edge, glided a little through the air, and sank at last upon the earth,
+fixing itself firmly down once more where it had stood of old, as if its
+foundations never had been stirred through the whole of those three
+hundred years.</p>
+
+<p>With his heart beating fast, Dermot stood gazing as if he could never
+cease to gaze. It was a lovely summer day, and all the landscape round
+him was bathed in sunlight. The radiance shone all over the gray castle
+walls and made each leaf on every tree a golden glory. It shone on
+bright flowers blooming in the castle garden; it shone on human figures
+that began to live and move. Breathless and motionless, Dermot watched
+them. He was not close to them, but near enough to see them in their
+strange quaint <!-- Page 297 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>dresses, passing to and fro, like figures that had
+started from some painted picture of a by-gone age. The place grew full
+of them. They poured out from the castle gates; they gathered into
+groups; they spread themselves abroad; they streamed out from the castle
+right and left. Did they know that they had been asleep? Apparently not,
+for each man went on with his natural occupation, as if he had but
+paused over it a minute to take breath. A hum of voices filled the air;
+Dermot heard strange accents, almost like those of an unknown tongue,
+mingled with the sound of laughter. Three hundred years had passed away,
+and yet they did not seem to know it; busily they went about their
+sports or labors&mdash;as calmly and unconsciously as if they never had been
+interrupted for an hour.</p>
+
+<p>And, in the midst of all, where was Eileen? The young chieftain stood
+looking at the strange scene before him, with his heart beating high and
+fast. He had killed the cat, he <!-- Page 298 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>had broken the enchantment, he had
+awakened the castle from its sleep, but what was to come next? Did the
+prophecy, which said that a M'Swyne should do this, say also that, for
+doing it, he should be given a reward?</p>
+
+<p>Nay, it said nothing more. The rest was all a blank. But was there,
+then, to be no reward for him? Dermot stood suddenly erect and crushed
+down a certain faintness that had been rising in his heart. The
+prophecy, indeed, said nothing, but he would carve out the rest of his
+destiny for himself.</p>
+
+<p>And so he carved it out. He went straight through the unknown people to
+the castle garden and found&mdash;was it what he sought? He found a lady
+gathering flowers&mdash;a lady in a rich dress, with golden armlets,
+bracelets, and head-ornaments&mdash;such as are now only discovered in tombs.
+But she was not dead; she was alive and young. For she turned round,
+and, after his life's patient waiting, Dermot saw Eileen's face.</p>
+
+<p>And then&mdash;what more? Well, need I tell <!-- Page 299 --><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>the rest? What ending could the
+story have but one? Of course he made her love him, and they married,
+and lived, and died. That was the whole. They were probably happy&mdash;I do
+not know. You may see the little lough still in that wild country of
+Donegal, and the deep dark waters that hid the enchanted castle beneath
+them for so many years. As for the castle itself&mdash;that, I think, has
+crumbled away; and the whole story is only a story legend&mdash;one of the
+pretty, foolish legends of the old times.</p>
+
+
+<h2><span class="smcap">the end</span></h2>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/illus033.png" width="276" height="200" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="tn">
+<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4>
+
+<p class="center">Variations in spelling and hyphenation, as well as unusual words, have been retained as they appear in the original publication.</p>
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+***** This file should be named 28619-h.htm or 28619-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/1/28619/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  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
+https://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 https://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
+https://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 https://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 https://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 including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was 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:
+
+     https://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>
diff --git a/28619-h/images/a.png b/28619-h/images/a.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8e237ef
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/a.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/cover-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/cover-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..03d5486
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/cover-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/cover.jpg b/28619-h/images/cover.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..69547f9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/cover.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/f.png b/28619-h/images/f.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..219c243
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/f.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/g.png b/28619-h/images/g.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4b7dbb1
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/g.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/h.png b/28619-h/images/h.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7dd495c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/h.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/i.png b/28619-h/images/i.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..28a676f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/i.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus001.png b/28619-h/images/illus001.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..8ea547f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus001.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus004-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus004-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..65eb2e4
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus004-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus004.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus004.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6e0a700
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus004.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus005.png b/28619-h/images/illus005.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..da5a735
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus005.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus013a.png b/28619-h/images/illus013a.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0552dc8
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus013a.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus021-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus021-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ec7557f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus021-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus021.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus021.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd6b179
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus021.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus033.png b/28619-h/images/illus033.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..59eed13
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus033.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus034a.png b/28619-h/images/illus034a.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6621419
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus034a.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus051.png b/28619-h/images/illus051.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78b1a02
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus051.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus055-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus055-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cd64fa6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus055-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus055.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus055.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cddbbb5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus055.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus076a.png b/28619-h/images/illus076a.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..40819d3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus076a.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus077-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus077-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..57d53c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus077-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus077.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus077.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a39572e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus077.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus091-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus091-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c322b73
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus091-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus091.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus091.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b33d42f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus091.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus129.png b/28619-h/images/illus129.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..843e6ad
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus129.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus163-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus163-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fb1d576
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus163-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus163.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus163.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3eb0556
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus163.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus189-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus189-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3ee4625
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus189-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus189.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus189.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b10e48b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus189.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus239-thumb.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus239-thumb.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2b1e90d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus239-thumb.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus239.jpg b/28619-h/images/illus239.jpg
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..78b7c47
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus239.jpg
diff --git a/28619-h/images/illus243.png b/28619-h/images/illus243.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a3a70b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/illus243.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/n.png b/28619-h/images/n.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..198472e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/n.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/o.png b/28619-h/images/o.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7a0f1c0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/o.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/t.png b/28619-h/images/t.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6b635ff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/t.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/v.png b/28619-h/images/v.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..efa9415
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/v.png
diff --git a/28619-h/images/w.png b/28619-h/images/w.png
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a405032
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619-h/images/w.png
diff --git a/28619.txt b/28619.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..317f8d0
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5789 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Cuckoo Clock
+
+Author: Mrs. Molesworth
+
+Illustrator: Maria L. Kirk
+
+Release Date: April 27, 2009 [EBook #28619]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+SIXTH IMPRESSION
+
+
+
+
+    "Stories All Children Love"
+
+    A SET OF CHILDREN'S CLASSICS THAT SHOULD BE IN EVERY WINTER HOME AND
+    SUMMER COTTAGE
+
+    Cornelli
+    By JOHANNA SPYRI
+    Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK
+
+    A Child's Garden of Verses
+    By ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
+
+    The Little Lame Prince & OTHER STORIES
+    By MISS MULOCK
+
+    Gulliver's Travels
+    By JONATHAN SWIFT
+
+    The Water Babies
+    By CHARLES KINGSLEY
+
+    Pinocchio
+    By C. COLLODI
+
+    Robinson Crusoe
+    By DANIEL DEFOE
+
+    Heidi By JOHANNA SPYRI
+    Translated by ELISABETH P. STORK
+
+    The Cuckoo Clock
+    By MRS. MOLESWORTH
+
+    The Swiss Family Robinson
+    Edited by G. E. MITTON
+
+    The Princess and Curdie
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    The Princess and the Goblin
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    At the Back of the North Wind
+    By GEORGE MACDONALD
+
+    A Dog of Flanders By "OUIDA"
+
+    Bimbi By "OUIDA"
+
+    Mopsa, the Fairy By JEAN INGELOW
+
+    The Chronicles of Fairyland
+    By FERGUS HUME
+
+    Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales
+
+    _Each Volume Beautifully Illustrated in Color._
+
+    _Decorated Cloth. Other Books in This Set are in Preparation._
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: A LITTLE GIRL DANCED INTO THE ROOM     _Page 107_]
+
+
+
+
+    THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+    BY
+    MRS. MOLESWORTH
+
+
+    _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY_
+    MARIA L. KIRK
+
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+
+    PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON
+    J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+
+PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
+AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS
+PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.
+
+
+
+
+    To
+
+    MARY JOSEPHINE
+
+    AND TO THE DEAR MEMORY OF HER BROTHER
+
+    THOMAS GRINDAL
+
+    BOTH FRIENDLY LITTLE CRITICS OF MY CHILDREN'S STORIES
+
+    _Edinburgh, 1877_
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+THE CUCKOO CLOCK
+
+  CHAPTER                                                PAGE
+
+       I. The Old House                                    11
+
+      II. _Im_patient Griselda                             30
+
+     III. Obeying Orders                                   48
+
+      IV. The Country of the Nodding Mandarins             70
+
+       V. Pictures                                         95
+
+      VI. Rubbed the Wrong Way                            120
+
+     VII. Butterfly-Land                                  140
+
+    VIII. Master Phil                                     163
+
+      IX. Up and Down the Chimney                         184
+
+       X. The Other Side of the Moon                      209
+
+      XI. "Cuckoo, Cuckoo, Good-bye!"                     227
+
+
+    THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+    A Legend of Donegal                                   247
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+    A Little Girl Danced Into the Room         _Frontispiece_
+
+    "Have You Got a Cuckoo in a Cage?"                     19
+
+    She Could Not Help Very Softly Clapping Her Hands      51
+
+    "Are You Comfortable?" Inquired the Cuckoo             71
+
+    He Flapped His Wings, And Instantly a Palanquin
+    Appeared at the Foot of the Steps                      88
+
+    She Peered in with Great Satisfaction                 153
+
+    "But I May See You Again," Said Phil                  177
+
+    It Was Rowed by a Little Figure                       224
+
+
+
+
+        "Now, these little folks, like most girls and boys,
+        Loved fairy tales even better than toys.
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+
+        And they knew that in flowers on the spray
+        Tiny spirits are hidden away,
+        That frisk at night on the forest green,
+        When earth is bathed in dewy sheen--
+        And shining halls of pearl and gem,
+        The Regions of Fancy--were open to them."
+
+    "... just as any little child has been guided towards the true
+    paradise by its fairy dreams of bliss."--E. A. Abbott.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+THE OLD HOUSE
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Somewhat back from the village street
+    Stands the old-fashioned country seat."
+
+
+Once upon a time in an old town, in an old street, there stood a very
+old house. Such a house as you could hardly find nowadays, however you
+searched, for it belonged to a gone-by time--a time now quite passed
+away.
+
+It stood in a street, but yet it was not like a town house, for though
+the front opened right on to the pavement, the back windows looked out
+upon a beautiful, quaintly terraced garden, with old trees growing so
+thick and close together that in summer it was like living on the edge
+of a forest to be near them; and even in winter the web of their
+interlaced branches hid all clear view behind.
+
+There was a colony of rooks in this old garden. Year after year they
+held their parliaments and cawed and chattered and fussed; year after
+year they built their nests and hatched their eggs; year after year, I
+_suppose_, the old ones gradually died off and the young ones took their
+place, though, but for knowing this _must_ be so, no one would have
+suspected it, for to all appearance the rooks were always the same--ever
+and always the same.
+
+Time indeed seemed to stand still in and all about the old house, as if
+it and the people who inhabited it had got _so_ old that they could not
+get any older, and had outlived the possibility of change.
+
+But one day at last there did come a change. Late in the dusk of an
+autumn afternoon a carriage drove up to the door of the old house, came
+rattling over the stones with a sudden noisy clatter that sounded quite
+impertinent, startling the rooks just as they were composing themselves
+to rest, and setting them all wondering what could be the matter.
+
+A little girl was the matter! A little girl in a grey merino frock, and
+grey beaver bonnet, grey tippet and grey gloves--all grey together, even
+to her eyes, all except her round rosy face and bright brown hair. Her
+name even was rather grey, for it was Griselda.
+
+A gentleman lifted her out of the carriage and disappeared with her into
+the house, and later that same evening the gentleman came out of the
+house and got into the carriage which had come back for him again, and
+drove away. That was all that the rooks saw of the change that had come
+to the old house. Shall we go inside to see more?
+
+Up the shallow, wide, old-fashioned staircase, past the wainscoted
+walls, dark and shining like a mirror, down a long narrow passage with
+many doors, which but for their gleaming brass handles one would not
+have known were there, the oldest of the three old servants led little
+Griselda, so tired and sleepy that her supper had been left almost
+untasted, to the room prepared for her. It was a queer room, for
+everything in the house was queer; but in the dancing light of the fire
+burning brightly in the tiled grate, it looked cheerful enough.
+
+"I am glad there's a fire," said the child. "Will it keep alight till
+the morning, do you think?"
+
+The old servant shook her head.
+
+"'Twould not be safe to leave it so that it would burn till morning,"
+she said. "When you are in bed and asleep, little missie, you won't want
+the fire. Bed's the warmest place."
+
+"It isn't for that I want it," said Griselda; "it's for the light I like
+it. This house all looks so dark to me, and yet there seem to be lights
+hidden in the walls too, they shine so."
+
+The old servant smiled.
+
+"It will all seem strange to you, no doubt," she said; "but you'll get
+to like it, missie. 'Tis a _good_ old house, and those that know best
+love it well."
+
+"Whom do you mean?" said Griselda. "Do you mean my great-aunts?"
+
+"Ah, yes, and others beside," replied the old woman. "The rooks love it
+well, and others beside. Did you ever hear tell of the 'good people,'
+missie, over the sea where you come from?"
+
+"Fairies, do you mean?" cried Griselda, her eyes sparkling. "Of course
+I've _heard_ of them, but I never saw any. Did you ever?"
+
+"I couldn't say," answered the old woman. "My mind is not young like
+yours, missie, and there are times when strange memories come back to me
+as of sights and sounds in a dream. I am too old to see and hear as I
+once could. We are all old here, missie. 'Twas time something young came
+to the old house again."
+
+"How strange and queer everything seems!" thought Griselda, as she got
+into bed. "I don't feel as if I belonged to it a bit. And they are all
+_so_ old; perhaps they won't like having a child among them?"
+
+The very same thought that had occurred to the rooks! They could not
+decide as to the fors and againsts at all, so they settled to put it to
+the vote the next morning, and in the meantime they and Griselda all
+went to sleep.
+
+I never heard if _they_ slept well that night; after such unusual
+excitement it was hardly to be expected they would. But Griselda, being
+a little girl and not a rook, was so tired that two minutes after she
+had tucked herself up in bed she was quite sound asleep, and did not
+wake for several hours.
+
+"I wonder what it will all look like in the morning," was her last
+waking thought. "If it was summer now, or spring, I shouldn't
+mind--there would always be something nice to do then."
+
+As sometimes happens, when she woke again, very early in the morning,
+long before it was light, her thoughts went straight on with the same
+subject.
+
+"If it was summer now, or spring," she repeated to herself, just as if
+she had not been asleep at all--like the man who fell into a trance for
+a hundred years just as he was saying "it is bitt--" and when he woke up
+again finished the sentence as if nothing had happened--"erly cold." "If
+only it was spring," thought Griselda.
+
+Just as she had got so far in her thoughts, she gave a great start. What
+was it she heard? Could her wish have come true? Was this fairyland
+indeed that she had got to, where one only needs to _wish_, for it to
+_be_? She rubbed her eyes, but it was too dark to see; _that_ was not
+very fairyland like, but her ears she felt certain had not deceived her:
+she was quite, quite sure that she had heard the cuckoo!
+
+She listened with all her might, but she did not hear it again. Could
+it, after all, have been fancy? She grew sleepy at last, and was just
+dropping off when--yes, there it was again, as clear and distinct as
+possible--"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!" three, four, _five_ times, then
+perfect silence as before.
+
+"What a funny cuckoo," said Griselda to herself. "I could almost fancy
+it was in the house. I wonder if my great-aunts have a tame cuckoo in a
+cage? I don't _think_ I ever heard of such a thing, but this is such a
+queer house; everything seems different in it--perhaps they have a tame
+cuckoo. I'll ask them in the morning. It's very nice to hear, whatever
+it is."
+
+[Illustration: "HAVE YOU GOT A CUCKOO IN A CAGE?"]
+
+And, with a pleasant feeling of companionship, a sense that she was not
+the only living creature awake in this dark world, Griselda lay
+listening, contentedly enough, for the sweet, fresh notes of the
+cuckoo's friendly greeting. But before it sounded again through the
+silent house she was once more fast asleep. And this time she slept
+till daylight had found its way into all but the _very_ darkest nooks
+and crannies of the ancient dwelling.
+
+She dressed herself carefully, for she had been warned that her aunts
+loved neatness and precision; she fastened each button of her grey
+frock, and tied down her hair as smooth as such a brown tangle _could_
+be tied down; and, absorbed with these weighty cares, she forgot all
+about the cuckoo for the time. It was not till she was sitting at
+breakfast with her aunts that she remembered it, or rather was reminded
+of it, by some little remark that was made about the friendly robins on
+the terrace walk outside.
+
+"Oh, aunt," she exclaimed, stopping short half-way the journey to her
+mouth of a spoonful of bread and milk, "have you got a cuckoo in a
+cage?"
+
+"A cuckoo in a cage," repeated her elder aunt, Miss Grizzel; "what is
+the child talking about?"
+
+"In a cage!" echoed Miss Tabitha, "a cuckoo in a cage!"
+
+"There is a cuckoo somewhere in the house," said Griselda; "I heard it
+in the night. It couldn't have been out-of-doors, could it? It would be
+too cold."
+
+The aunts looked at each other with a little smile. "So like her
+grandmother," they whispered. Then said Miss Grizzel--
+
+"We have a cuckoo, my dear, though it isn't in a cage, and it isn't
+exactly the sort of cuckoo you are thinking of. It lives in a clock."
+
+"In a clock," repeated Miss Tabitha, as if to confirm her sister's
+statement.
+
+"In a clock!" exclaimed Griselda, opening her grey eyes very wide.
+
+It sounded something like the three bears, all speaking one after the
+other, only Griselda's voice was not like Tiny's; it was the loudest of
+the three.
+
+"In a clock!" she exclaimed; "but it can't be alive, then?"
+
+"Why not?" said Miss Grizzel.
+
+"I don't know," replied Griselda, looking puzzled.
+
+"I knew a little girl once," pursued Miss Grizzel, "who was quite of
+opinion the cuckoo _was_ alive, and nothing would have persuaded her it
+was not. Finish your breakfast, my dear, and then if you like you shall
+come with me and see the cuckoo for yourself."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, going on with her bread and
+milk.
+
+"Yes," said Miss Tabitha, "you shall see the cuckoo for yourself."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Tabitha," said Griselda. It was rather a bother to have
+always to say "thank you," or "no, thank you," twice, but Griselda
+thought it was polite to do so, as Aunt Tabitha always repeated
+everything that Aunt Grizzel said. It wouldn't have mattered so much if
+Aunt Tabitha had said it _at once_ after Miss Grizzel, but as she
+generally made a little pause between, it was sometimes rather awkward.
+But of course it was better to say "thank you" or "no, thank you" twice
+over than to hurt Aunt Tabitha's feelings.
+
+After breakfast Aunt Grizzel was as good as her word. She took Griselda
+through several of the rooms in the house, pointing out all the
+curiosities, and telling all the histories of the rooms and their
+contents; and Griselda liked to listen, only in every room they came to,
+she wondered _when_ they would get to the room where lived the cuckoo.
+
+Aunt Tabitha did not come with them, for she was rather rheumatic. On
+the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a _very_
+long time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and
+possibly, if Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the
+"thank you's" or "no, thank you's" twice over.
+
+The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had
+seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for the view from the
+windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of everything.
+
+"We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching
+sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering.
+
+"I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is a
+very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is
+winter, or nearly winter."
+
+Miss Grizzel looked pleased.
+
+"My pot-pourri," she explained.
+
+They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a
+handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must once
+have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling of awe
+had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient drawing-room. What
+grand parties there must have been in it long ago! But as for dancing in
+it _now_--dancing, or laughing, or chattering--such a thing was quite
+impossible to imagine!
+
+Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a marvellous
+Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was made in the
+shape of a temple, or a palace--Griselda was not sure which. Any way, it
+was very delicious and wonderful. At the door stood, one on each side,
+two solemn mandarins; or, to speak more correctly, perhaps I should say,
+a mandarin and his wife, for the right-hand figure was evidently
+intended to be a lady.
+
+Miss Grizzel gently touched their heads. Forthwith, to Griselda's
+astonishment, they began solemnly to nod.
+
+"Oh, how do you make them do that, Aunt Grizzel?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Never you mind, my dear; it wouldn't do for _you_ to try to make them
+nod. They wouldn't like it," replied Miss Grizzel mysteriously. "Respect
+to your elders, my dear, always remember that. The mandarins are _many_
+years older than you--older than I myself, in fact."
+
+Griselda wondered, if this were so, how it was that Miss Grizzel took
+such liberties with them herself, but she said nothing.
+
+"Here is my last summer's pot-pourri," continued Miss Grizzel, touching
+a great china jar on a little stand, close beside the cabinet. "You may
+smell it, my dear."
+
+Nothing loth, Griselda buried her round little nose in the fragrant
+leaves.
+
+"It's lovely," she said. "May I smell it whenever I like, Aunt Grizzel?"
+
+"We shall see," replied her aunt. "It isn't _every_ little girl, you
+know, that we could trust to come into the great saloon alone."
+
+"No," said Griselda meekly.
+
+Miss Grizzel led the way to a door opposite to that by which they had
+entered. She opened it and passed through, Griselda following, into a
+small ante-room.
+
+"It is on the stroke of ten," said Miss Grizzel, consulting her watch;
+"now, my dear, you shall make acquaintance with our cuckoo."
+
+The cuckoo "that lived in a clock!" Griselda gazed round her eagerly.
+Where was the clock? She could see nothing in the least like one, only
+up on the wall in one corner was what looked like a miniature house, of
+dark brown carved wood. It was not so _very_ like a house, but it
+certainly had a roof--a roof with deep projecting eaves; and, looking
+closer, yes, it _was_ a clock, after all, only the figures, which had
+once been gilt, had grown dim with age, like everything else, and the
+hands at a little distance were hardly to be distinguished from the
+face.
+
+Miss Grizzel stood perfectly still, looking up at the clock; Griselda
+beside her, in breathless expectation. Presently there came a sort of
+distant rumbling. _Something_ was going to happen. Suddenly two little
+doors above the clock face, which Griselda had not known were there,
+sprang open with a burst and out flew a cuckoo, flapped his wings, and
+uttered his pretty cry, "Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" Miss Grizzel counted
+aloud, "Seven, eight, nine, ten." "Yes, he never makes a mistake," she
+added triumphantly. "All these long years I have never known him wrong.
+There are no such clocks made nowadays, I can assure you, my dear."
+
+"But _is_ it a clock? Isn't he alive?" exclaimed Griselda. "He looked at
+me and nodded his head, before he flapped his wings and went in to his
+house again--he did indeed, aunt," she said earnestly; "just like
+saying, 'How do you do?' to me."
+
+Again Miss Grizzel smiled, the same odd yet pleased smile that Griselda
+had seen on her face at breakfast. "Just what Sybilla used to say," she
+murmured. "Well, my dear," she added aloud, "it is quite right he
+_should_ say, 'How do you do?' to you. It is the first time he has seen
+_you_, though many a year ago he knew your dear grandmother, and your
+father, too, when he was a little boy. You will find him a good friend,
+and one that can teach you many lessons."
+
+"What, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, looking puzzled.
+
+"Punctuality, for one thing, and faithful discharge of duty," replied
+Miss Grizzel.
+
+"May I come to see the cuckoo--to watch for him coming out, sometimes?"
+asked Griselda, who felt as if she could spend all day looking up at the
+clock, watching for her little friend's appearance.
+
+"You will see him several times a day," said her aunt, "for it is in
+this little room I intend you to prepare your tasks. It is nice and
+quiet, and nothing to disturb you, and close to the room where your Aunt
+Tabitha and I usually sit."
+
+So saying, Miss Grizzel opened a second door in the little ante-room,
+and, to Griselda's surprise, at the foot of a short flight of stairs
+through another door, half open, she caught sight of her Aunt Tabitha,
+knitting quietly by the fire, in the room in which they had breakfasted.
+
+"What a _very_ funny house it is, Aunt Grizzel," she said, as she
+followed her aunt down the steps. "Every room has so many doors, and you
+come back to where you were just when you think you are ever so far off.
+I shall never be able to find my way about."
+
+"Oh yes, you will, my dear, very soon," said her aunt encouragingly.
+
+"She is very kind," thought Griselda; "but I wish she wouldn't call my
+lessons tasks. It makes them sound so dreadfully hard. But, any way, I'm
+glad I'm to do them in the room where that dear cuckoo lives."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+_IM_PATIENT GRISELDA
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "... fairies but seldom appear;
+      If we do wrong we must expect
+    That it will cost us dear!"
+
+
+It was all very well for a few days. Griselda found plenty to amuse
+herself with while the novelty lasted, enough to prevent her missing
+_very_ badly the home she had left "over the sea," and the troop of
+noisy merry brothers who teased and petted her. Of course she _missed_
+them, but not "dreadfully." She was neither homesick nor "dull."
+
+It was not quite such smooth sailing when lessons began. She did not
+dislike lessons; in fact, she had always thought she was rather fond of
+them. But the having to do them alone was not lively, and her teachers
+were very strict. The worst of all was the writing and arithmetic
+master, a funny little old man who wore knee-breeches and took snuff,
+and called her aunt "Madame," bowing formally whenever he addressed her.
+He screwed Griselda up into such an unnatural attitude to write her
+copies, that she really felt as if she would never come straight and
+loose again; and the arithmetic part of his instructions was even worse.
+Oh! what sums in addition he gave her! Griselda had never been partial
+to sums, and her rather easy-going governess at home had not, to tell
+the truth, been partial to them either. And Mr.--I can't remember the
+little old gentleman's name. Suppose we call him Mr. Kneebreeches--Mr.
+Kneebreeches, when he found this out, conscientiously put her back to
+the very beginning.
+
+It was dreadful, really. He came twice a week, and the days he didn't
+come were as bad as those he did, for he left her a whole _row_, I was
+going to say, but you couldn't call Mr. Kneebreeches' addition sums
+"rows," they were far too fat and wide across to be so spoken of!--whole
+slatefuls of these terrible mountains of figures to climb wearily to the
+top of. And not to climb _once_ up merely. _The_ terrible thing was Mr.
+Kneebreeches' favourite method of what he called "proving." I can't
+explain it--it is far beyond my poor powers--but it had something to do
+with cutting off the top line, after you had added it all up and had
+actually done the sum, you understand--cutting off the top line and
+adding the long rows up again without it, and then joining it on again
+somewhere else.
+
+"I wouldn't mind so much," said poor Griselda, one day, "if it was any
+good. But you see, Aunt Grizzel, it isn't. For I'm just as likely to do
+the _proving_ wrong as the sum itself--more likely, for I'm always so
+tired when I get to the proving--and so all that's proved is that
+_something's_ wrong, and I'm sure that isn't any good, except to make me
+cross."
+
+"Hush!" said her aunt gravely. "That is not the way for a little girl to
+speak. Improve these golden hours of youth, Griselda; they will never
+return."
+
+"I hope not," muttered Griselda, "if it means doing sums."
+
+Miss Grizzel fortunately was a little deaf; she did not hear this
+remark. Just then the cuckoo clock struck eleven.
+
+"Good little cuckoo," said Miss Grizzel. "What an example he sets you.
+His life is spent in the faithful discharge of duty;" and so saying she
+left the room.
+
+The cuckoo was still telling the hour--eleven took a good while. It
+seemed to Griselda that the bird repeated her aunt's last words.
+"Faith--ful, dis--charge, of--your, du--ty," he said, "faith--ful."
+
+"You horrid little creature!" exclaimed Griselda in a passion; "what
+business have you to mock me?"
+
+She seized a book, the first that came to hand, and flung it at the bird
+who was just beginning his eleventh cuckoo. He disappeared with a snap,
+disappeared without flapping his wings, or, as Griselda always fancied
+he did, giving her a friendly nod, and in an instant all was silent.
+
+Griselda felt a little frightened. What had she done? She looked up at
+the clock. It seemed just the same as usual, the cuckoo's doors closely
+shut, no sign of any disturbance. Could it have been her fancy only that
+he had sprung back more hastily than he would have done but for her
+throwing the book at him? She began to hope so, and tried to go on with
+her lessons. But it was no use. Though she really gave her best
+attention to the long addition sums, and found that by so doing she
+managed them much better than before, she could not feel happy or at
+ease. Every few minutes she glanced up at the clock, as if expecting
+the cuckoo to come out, though she knew quite well there was no chance
+of his doing so till twelve o'clock, as it was only the hours, not the
+half hours and quarters, that he told.
+
+"I wish it was twelve o'clock," she said to herself anxiously more than
+once.
+
+If only the clock had not been so very high up on the wall, she would
+have been tempted to climb up and open the little doors, and peep in to
+satisfy herself as to the cuckoo's condition. But there was no
+possibility of this. The clock was far, very far above her reach, and
+there was no high piece of furniture standing near, upon which she could
+have climbed to get to it. There was nothing to be done but to wait for
+twelve o'clock.
+
+And, after all, she did not wait for twelve o'clock, for just about
+half-past eleven, Miss Grizzel's voice was heard calling to her to put
+on her hat and cloak quickly, and come out to walk up and down the
+terrace with her.
+
+"It is fine just now," said Miss Grizzel, "but there is a prospect of
+rain before long. You must leave your lessons for the present, and
+finish them in the afternoon."
+
+"I have finished them," said Griselda, meekly.
+
+"_All?_" inquired her aunt.
+
+"Yes, all," replied Griselda.
+
+"Ah, well, then, this afternoon, if the rain holds off, we shall drive
+to Merrybrow Hall, and inquire for the health of your dear godmother,
+Lady Lavander," said Miss Grizzel.
+
+Poor Griselda! There were few things she disliked more than a drive with
+her aunts. They went in the old yellow chariot, with all the windows up,
+and of course Griselda had to sit with her back to the horses, which
+made her very uncomfortable when she had no air, and had to sit still
+for so long.
+
+Merrybrow Hall was a large house, quite as old and much grander, but not
+nearly so wonderful as the home of Griselda's aunts. It was six miles
+off, and it took a very long time indeed to drive there in the rumbling
+old chariot, for the old horses were fat and wheezy, and the old
+coachman fat and wheezy too. Lady Lavander was, of course, old too--very
+old indeed, and rather grumpy and very deaf. Miss Grizzel and Miss
+Tabitha had the greatest respect for her; she always called them "My
+dear," as if they were quite girls, and they listened to all she said as
+if her words were of gold. For some mysterious reason she had been
+invited to be Griselda's godmother; but, as she had never shown her any
+proof of affection beyond giving her a prayer-book, and hoping, whenever
+she saw her, that she was "a good little miss," Griselda did not feel
+any particular cause for gratitude to her.
+
+The drive seemed longer and duller than ever this afternoon, but
+Griselda bore it meekly; and when Lady Lavander, as usual, expressed her
+hopes about her, the little girl looked down modestly, feeling her
+cheeks grow scarlet. "I am not a good little girl at all," she felt
+inclined to call out. "I'm very bad and cruel. I believe I've killed the
+dear little cuckoo."
+
+What _would_ the three old ladies have thought if she had called it out?
+As it was, Lady Lavander patted her approvingly, said she loved to see
+young people modest and humble-minded, and gave her a slice of very
+highly-spiced, rather musty gingerbread, which Griselda couldn't bear.
+
+All the way home Griselda felt in a fever of impatience to rush up to
+the ante-room and see if the cuckoo was all right again. It was late and
+dark when the chariot at last stopped at the door of the old house. Miss
+Grizzel got out slowly, and still more slowly Miss Tabitha followed her.
+Griselda was obliged to restrain herself and move demurely.
+
+"It is past your supper-time, my dear," said Miss Grizzel. "Go up at
+once to your room, and Dorcas shall bring some supper to you. Late hours
+are bad for young people."
+
+Griselda obediently wished her aunts good-night, and went quietly
+upstairs. But once out of sight, at the first landing, she changed her
+pace. She turned to the left instead of to the right, which led to her
+own room, and flew rather than ran along the dimly-lighted passage, at
+the end of which a door led into the great saloon. She opened the door.
+All was quite dark. It was impossible to fly or run across the great
+saloon! Even in daylight this would have been a difficult matter.
+Griselda _felt_ her way as best she could, past the Chinese cabinet and
+the pot-pourri jar till she got to the ante-room door. It was open, and
+now, knowing her way better, she hurried in. But what was the use? All
+was silent, save the tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the corner. Oh, if
+_only_ the cuckoo would come out and call the hour as usual, what a
+weight would be lifted off Griselda's heart!
+
+She had no idea what o'clock it was. It might be close to the hour, or
+it might be just past it. She stood listening for a few minutes, then
+hearing Miss Grizzel's voice in the distance, she felt that she dared
+not stay any longer, and turned to feel her way out of the room again.
+Just as she got to the door it seemed to her that something softly
+brushed her cheek, and a very, very faint "cuckoo" sounded, as it were,
+in the air close to her.
+
+Startled, but not frightened, Griselda stood perfectly still.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, softly. But there was no answer.
+
+Again the tones of Miss Grizzel's voice coming upstairs reached her ear.
+
+"I _must_ go," said Griselda; and finding her way across the saloon
+without, by great good luck, tumbling against any of the many breakable
+treasures with which it was filled, she flew down the long passage
+again, reaching her own room just before Dorcas appeared with her
+supper.
+
+Griselda slept badly that night. She was constantly dreaming of the
+cuckoo, fancying she heard his voice, and then waking with a start to
+find it was _only_ fancy. She looked pale and heavy-eyed when she came
+down to breakfast the next morning; and her Aunt Tabitha, who was alone
+in the room when she entered, began immediately asking her what was the
+matter.
+
+"I am sure you are going to be ill, child," she said, nervously. "Sister
+Grizzel must give you some medicine. I wonder what would be the best.
+Tansy tea is an excellent thing when one has taken cold, or----"
+
+But the rest of Miss Tabitha's sentence was never heard, for at this
+moment Miss Grizzel came hurriedly into the room--her cap awry, her
+shawl disarranged, her face very pale. I hardly think any one had ever
+seen her so discomposed before.
+
+"Sister Tabitha!" she exclaimed, "what can be going to happen? The
+cuckoo clock has stopped."
+
+"The cuckoo clock has stopped!" repeated Miss Tabitha, holding up her
+hands; "_im_possible!"
+
+"But it has, or rather I should say--dear me, I am so upset I cannot
+explain myself--the _cuckoo_ has stopped. The clock is going on, but the
+cuckoo has not told the hours, and Dorcas is of opinion that he left off
+doing so yesterday. What can be going to happen? What shall we do?"
+
+"What can we do?" said Miss Tabitha. "Should we send for the
+watch-maker?"
+
+Miss Grizzel shook her head.
+
+"'Twould be worse than useless. Were we to search the world over, we
+could find no one to put it right. Fifty years and more, Tabitha, fifty
+years and more, it has never missed an hour! We are getting old,
+Tabitha, our day is nearly over; perhaps 'tis to remind us of this."
+
+Miss Tabitha did not reply. She was weeping silently. The old ladies
+seemed to have forgotten the presence of their niece, but Griselda could
+not bear to see their distress. She finished her breakfast as quickly as
+she could, and left the room.
+
+On her way upstairs she met Dorcas.
+
+"Have you heard what has happened, little missie?" said the old servant.
+
+"Yes," replied Griselda.
+
+"My ladies are in great trouble," continued Dorcas, who seemed inclined
+to be more communicative than usual, "and no wonder. For fifty years
+that clock has never gone wrong."
+
+"Can't it be put right?" asked the child.
+
+Dorcas shook her head.
+
+"No good would come of interfering," she said. "What must be, must be.
+The luck of the house hangs on that clock. Its maker spent a good part
+of his life over it, and his last words were that it would bring good
+luck to the house that owned it, but that trouble would follow its
+silence. It's my belief," she added solemnly, "that it's a _fairy_
+clock, neither more nor less, for good luck it has brought there's no
+denying. There are no cows like ours, missie--their milk is a proverb
+hereabouts; there are no hens like ours for laying all the year round;
+there are no roses like ours. And there's always a friendly feeling in
+this house, and always has been. 'Tis not a house for wrangling and
+jangling, and sharp words. The 'good people' can't stand that. Nothing
+drives them away like ill-temper or anger."
+
+Griselda's conscience gave her a sharp prick. Could it be _her_ doing
+that trouble was coming upon the old house? What a punishment for a
+moment's fit of ill-temper.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk that way, Dorcas," she said; "it makes me so
+unhappy."
+
+"What a feeling heart the child has!" said the old servant as she went
+on her way downstairs. "It's true--she is very like Miss Sybilla."
+
+That day was a very weary and sad one for Griselda. She was oppressed by
+a feeling she did not understand. She knew she had done wrong, but she
+had sorely repented it, and "I do think the cuckoo might have come back
+again," she said to herself, "if he _is_ a fairy; and if he isn't, it
+can't be true what Dorcas says."
+
+Her aunts made no allusion to the subject in her presence, and almost
+seemed to have forgotten that she had known of their distress. They were
+more grave and silent than usual, but otherwise things went on in their
+ordinary way. Griselda spent the morning "at her tasks," in the
+ante-room, but was thankful to get away from the tick-tick of the clock
+in the corner and out into the garden.
+
+But there, alas! it was just as bad. The rooks seemed to know that
+something was the matter; they set to work making such a chatter
+immediately Griselda appeared that she felt inclined to run back into
+the house again.
+
+"I am sure they are talking about me," she said to herself. "Perhaps
+they are fairies too. I am beginning to think I don't like fairies."
+
+She was glad when bed-time came. It was a sort of reproach to her to see
+her aunts so pale and troubled; and though she tried to persuade herself
+that she thought them very silly, she could not throw off the
+uncomfortable feeling.
+
+She was so tired when she went to bed--tired in the disagreeable way
+that comes from a listless, uneasy day--that she fell asleep at once and
+slept heavily. When she woke, which she did suddenly, and with a start,
+it was still perfectly dark, like the first morning that she had wakened
+in the old house. It seemed to her that she had not wakened of
+herself--something had roused her. Yes! there it was again, a very,
+_very_ soft distant "cuckoo." _Was_ it distant? She could not tell.
+Almost she could have fancied it was close to her.
+
+"If it's that cuckoo come back again, I'll catch him!" exclaimed
+Griselda.
+
+She darted out of bed, felt her way to the door, which was closed, and
+opening it let in a rush of moonlight from the unshuttered passage
+window. In another moment her little bare feet were pattering along the
+passage at full speed, in the direction of the great saloon.
+
+For Griselda's childhood among the troop of noisy brothers had taught
+her one lesson--she was afraid of nothing. Or rather perhaps I should
+say she had never learnt that there was anything to be afraid of! And is
+there?
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+OBEYING ORDERS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Little girl, thou must thy part fulfil,
+      If we're to take kindly to ours:
+    Then pull up the weeds with a will,
+      And fairies will cherish the flowers."
+
+
+There was moonlight, though not so much, in the saloon and the
+ante-room, too; for though the windows, like those in Griselda's
+bed-room, had the shutters closed, there was a round part at the top,
+high up, which the shutters did not reach to, and in crept, through
+these clear uncovered panes, quite as many moonbeams, you may be sure,
+as could find their way.
+
+Griselda, eager though she was, could not help standing still a moment
+to admire the effect.
+
+"It looks prettier with the light coming in at those holes at the top
+than even if the shutters were open," she said to herself. "How
+goldy-silvery the cabinet looks; and, yes, I do declare, the mandarins
+are nodding! I wonder if it is out of politeness to me, or does Aunt
+Grizzel come in last thing at night and touch them to make them keep
+nodding till morning? I _suppose_ they're a sort of policemen to the
+palace; and I dare say there are all sorts of beautiful things inside.
+How I should like to see all through it!"
+
+But at this moment the faint tick-tick of the cuckoo clock in the next
+room, reaching her ear, reminded her of the object of this midnight
+expedition of hers. She hurried into the ante-room.
+
+It looked darker than the great saloon, for it had but one window. But
+through the uncovered space at the top of this window there penetrated
+some brilliant moonbeams, one of which lighted up brightly the face of
+the clock with its queer over-hanging eaves.
+
+Griselda approached it and stood below, looking up.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said softly--very softly.
+
+But there was no reply.
+
+"Cuckoo," she repeated rather more loudly. "Why won't you speak to me? I
+know you are there, and you're not asleep, for I heard your voice in my
+own room. Why won't you come out, cuckoo?"
+
+"Tick-tick," said the clock, but there was no other reply.
+
+Griselda felt ready to cry.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said reproachfully, "I didn't think you were so
+hard-hearted. I have been _so_ unhappy about you, and I was so pleased
+to hear your voice again, for I thought I had killed you, or hurt you
+very badly; and I didn't _mean_ to hurt you, cuckoo. I was sorry the
+moment I had done it, _dreadfully_ sorry. Dear cuckoo, won't you forgive
+me?"
+
+[Illustration: SHE COULD NOT HELP VERY SOFTLY CLAPPING HER HANDS]
+
+There was a little sound at last--a faint _coming_ sound, and by the
+moonlight Griselda saw the doors open, and out flew the cuckoo. He stood
+still for a moment, looked round him as it were, then gently flapped his
+wings, and uttered his usual note--"Cuckoo."
+
+Griselda stood in breathless expectation, but in her delight she could
+not help very softly clapping her hands.
+
+The cuckoo cleared his throat. You never heard such a funny little noise
+as he made; and then, in a very clear, distinct, but yet "cuckoo-y"
+voice, he spoke.
+
+"Griselda," he said, "are you truly sorry?"
+
+"I told you I was," she replied. "But I didn't _feel_ so very naughty,
+cuckoo. I didn't, really. I was only vexed for one minute, and when I
+threw the book I seemed to be a very little in fun, too. And it made me
+so unhappy when you went away, and my poor aunts have been dreadfully
+unhappy too. If you hadn't come back I should have told them tomorrow
+what I had done. I would have told them before, but I was afraid it
+would have made them more unhappy. I thought I had hurt you dreadfully."
+
+"So you did," said the cuckoo.
+
+"But you _look_ quite well," said Griselda.
+
+"It was my _feelings_," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going
+away. I have to obey orders like other people."
+
+Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked.
+
+"Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You can
+understand about obeying _your_ orders, and you see, when you don't,
+things go wrong."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she
+continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home--_hardly_ never, at
+least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them."
+
+"What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things
+go wrong in this house."
+
+"That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda. "It must be with my being a
+child--my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's
+ways."
+
+"About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily.
+
+"And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of
+lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to
+play with."
+
+"There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and
+was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at
+last.
+
+"Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say.
+
+"And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present
+orders and go back to bed."
+
+"Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly.
+
+"You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't
+you?"
+
+"You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for
+of course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts
+of queer things about what fairies like and don't like."
+
+"Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo.
+
+"Dorcas did, and, _of course_, my own common sense did too," replied
+Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else."
+
+"I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird.
+
+Griselda looked puzzled.
+
+"I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much
+difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing."
+
+"What?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at
+you, have you come back for good?"
+
+"Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she
+said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make
+my aunts happy again?"
+
+"You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed."
+
+"Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to
+let me know when you've considered."
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was
+meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact
+second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.
+
+She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to
+the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel
+the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as
+possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the
+moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell
+asleep; and it seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft
+feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in
+her ear.
+
+When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the
+wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale
+grey-blue sky.
+
+"It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters
+and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so
+beautifully unsleepy now. I must dress quickly--how nice it will be to
+see my aunts look happy again! I don't even care if they scold me for
+being late."
+
+But, after all, it was not so much later than usual; it was only a much
+brighter morning than they had had for some time. Griselda did dress
+herself very quickly, however. As she went downstairs two or three of
+the clocks in the house, for there were several, were striking eight.
+These clocks must have been a little before the right time, for it was
+not till they had again relapsed into silence that there rang out from
+the ante-room the clear sweet tones, eight times repeated, of "Cuckoo."
+
+Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were already at the breakfast-table, but
+they received their little niece most graciously. Nothing was said about
+the clock, however, till about half-way through the meal, when Griselda,
+full of eagerness to know if her aunts were aware of the cuckoo's
+return, could restrain herself no longer.
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," she said, "isn't the cuckoo all right again?"
+
+"Yes, my dear. I am delighted to say it is," replied Miss Grizzel.
+
+"Did you get it put right, Aunt Grizzel?" inquired Griselda, slyly.
+
+"Little girls should not ask so many questions," replied Miss Grizzel,
+mysteriously. "It _is_ all right again, and that is enough. During fifty
+years that cuckoo has never, till yesterday, missed an hour. If you, in
+your sphere, my dear, do as well during fifty years, you won't have done
+badly."
+
+"No, indeed, you won't have done badly," repeated Miss Tabitha.
+
+But though the two old ladies thus tried to improve the occasion by a
+little lecturing, Griselda could see that at the bottom of their hearts
+they were both so happy that, even if she had been very naughty indeed,
+they could hardly have made up their minds to scold her.
+
+She was not at all inclined to be naughty this day. She had something to
+think about and look forward to, which made her quite a different little
+girl, and made her take heart in doing her lessons as well as she
+possibly could.
+
+"I wonder when the cuckoo will have considered enough about my having no
+one to play with?" she said to herself, as she was walking up and down
+the terrace at the back of the house.
+
+"Caw, caw!" screamed a rook just over her head, as if in answer to her
+thought.
+
+Griselda looked up at him.
+
+"Your voice isn't half so pretty as the cuckoo's, Mr. Rook," she said.
+"All the same, I dare say I should make friends with you, if I
+understood what you meant. How funny it would be to know all the
+languages of the birds and the beasts, like the prince in the fairy
+tale! I wonder if I should wish for that, if a fairy gave me a wish? No,
+I don't think I would. I'd _far_ rather have the fairy carpet that would
+take you anywhere you liked in a minute. I'd go to China to see if all
+the people there look like Aunt Grizzel's mandarins; and I'd first of
+all, of course, go to fairyland."
+
+"You must come in now, little missie," said Dorcas's voice. "Miss
+Grizzel says you have had play enough, and there's a nice fire in the
+ante-room for you to do your lessons by."
+
+"Play!" repeated Griselda indignantly, as she turned to follow the old
+servant. "Do you call walking up and down the terrace 'play,' Dorcas? I
+mustn't loiter even to pick a flower, if there were any, for fear of
+catching cold, and I mustn't run for fear of overheating myself. I
+declare, Dorcas, if I don't have some play soon, or something to amuse
+me, I think I'll run away."
+
+"Nay, nay, missie, don't talk like that. You'd never do anything so
+naughty, and you so like Miss Sybilla, who was so good."
+
+"Dorcas, I'm tired of being told I'm like Miss Sybilla," said Griselda,
+impatiently. "She was my grandmother; no one would like to be told they
+were like their grandmother. It makes me feel as if my face must be all
+screwy up and wrinkly, and as if I should have spectacles on and a wig."
+
+"_That_ is not like what Miss Sybilla was when I first saw her," said
+Dorcas. "She was younger than you, missie, and as pretty as a fairy."
+
+"_Was_ she?" exclaimed Griselda, stopping short.
+
+"Yes, indeed she was. She might have been a fairy, so sweet she was and
+gentle--and yet so merry. Every creature loved her; even the animals
+about seemed to know her, as if she was one of themselves. She brought
+good luck to the house, and it was a sad day when she left it."
+
+"I thought you said it was the cuckoo that brought good luck?" said
+Griselda.
+
+"Well, so it was. The cuckoo and Miss Sybilla came here the same day. It
+was left to her by her mother's father, with whom she had lived since
+she was a baby, and when he died she came here to her sisters. She
+wasn't _own_ sister to my ladies, you see, missie. Her mother had come
+from Germany, and it was in some strange place there, where her
+grandfather lived, that the cuckoo clock was made. They make wonderful
+clocks there, I've been told, but none more wonderful than our cuckoo,
+I'm sure."
+
+"No, I'm _sure_ not," said Griselda, softly. "Why didn't Miss Sybilla
+take it with her when she was married and went away?"
+
+"She knew her sisters were so fond of it. It was like a memory of her
+left behind for them. It was like a part of her. And do you know,
+missie, the night she died--she died soon after your father was born, a
+year after she was married--for a whole hour, from twelve to one, that
+cuckoo went on cuckooing in a soft, sad way, like some living creature
+in trouble. Of course, we did not know anything was wrong with her, and
+folks said something had caught some of the springs of the works; but
+_I_ didn't think so, and never shall. And----"
+
+But here Dorcas's reminiscences were abruptly brought to a close by Miss
+Grizzel's appearance at the other end of the terrace.
+
+"Griselda, what are you loitering so for? Dorcas, you should have
+hastened, not delayed Miss Griselda."
+
+So Griselda was hurried off to her lessons, and Dorcas to her kitchen.
+But Griselda did not much mind. She had plenty to think of and wonder
+about, and she liked to do her lessons in the ante-room, with the
+tick-tick of the clock in her ears, and the feeling that _perhaps_ the
+cuckoo was watching her through some invisible peep-hole in his closed
+doors.
+
+"And if he sees," thought Griselda, "if he sees how hard I am trying to
+do my lessons well, it will perhaps make him be quick about
+'considering.'"
+
+So she did try very hard. And she didn't speak to the cuckoo when he
+came out to say it was four o'clock. She was busy, and he was busy. She
+felt it was better to wait till he gave her some sign of being ready to
+talk to her again.
+
+For fairies, you know, children, however charming, are sometimes
+_rather_ queer to have to do with. They don't like to be interfered
+with, or treated except with very great respect, and they have their own
+ideas about what is proper and what isn't, I can assure you.
+
+I suppose it was with working so hard at her lessons--most people say
+it was with having been up the night before, running about the house in
+the moonlight; but as she had never felt so "fresh" in her life as when
+she got up that morning, it could hardly have been that--that Griselda
+felt so tired and sleepy that evening, she could hardly keep her eyes
+open. She begged to go to bed quite half an hour earlier than usual,
+which made Miss Tabitha afraid again that she was going to be ill. But
+as there is nothing better for children than to go to bed early, even if
+they _are_ going to be ill, Miss Grizzel told her to say good-night, and
+to ask Dorcas to give her a wine-glassful of elderberry wine, nice and
+hot, after she was in bed.
+
+Griselda had no objection to the elderberry wine, though she felt she
+was having it on false pretences. She certainly did not need it to send
+her to sleep, for almost before her head touched the pillow she was as
+sound as a top. She had slept a good long while, when again she wakened
+suddenly--just as she had done the night before, and again with the
+feeling that something had wakened her. And the queer thing was that the
+moment she was awake she felt so _very_ awake--she had no inclination to
+stretch and yawn and hope it wasn't quite time to get up, and think how
+nice and warm bed was, and how cold it was outside! She sat straight up,
+and peered out into the darkness, feeling quite ready for an adventure.
+
+"Is it you, cuckoo?" she said softly.
+
+There was no answer, but listening intently, the child fancied she heard
+a faint rustling or fluttering in the corner of the room by the door.
+She got up and, feeling her way, opened it, and the instant she had done
+so she heard, a few steps only in front of her it seemed, the familiar
+notes, very, _very_ soft and whispered, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+It went on and on, down the passage, Griselda trotting after. There was
+no moon to-night, heavy clouds had quite hidden it, and outside the
+rain was falling heavily. Griselda could hear it on the window-panes,
+through the closed shutters and all. But dark as it was, she made her
+way along without any difficulty, down the passage, across the great
+saloon, in through the ante-room door, guided only by the little voice
+now and then to be heard in front of her. She came to a standstill right
+before the clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting.
+
+She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound,
+then the doors above the clock face opened--she heard them open, it was
+far too dark to see--and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it
+was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one
+stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at once), the bird sang
+out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+"Good evening, cuckoo," said Griselda, when he had finished.
+
+"Good morning, you mean," said the cuckoo.
+
+"Good morning, then, cuckoo," said Griselda. "Have you considered about
+me, cuckoo?"
+
+The cuckoo cleared his throat.
+
+"Have you learnt to obey orders yet, Griselda?" he inquired.
+
+"I'm trying," replied Griselda. "But you see, cuckoo, I've not had very
+long to learn in--it was only last night you told me, you know."
+
+The cuckoo sighed.
+
+"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda."
+
+"I dare say I have," she said. "But I can tell you one thing,
+cuckoo--whatever lessons I have, I _couldn't_ ever have any worse than
+those addition sums of Mr. Kneebreeches'. I have made up my mind about
+that, for to-day, do you know, cuckoo----"
+
+"Yesterday," corrected the cuckoo. "Always be exact in your statements,
+Griselda."
+
+"Well, yesterday, then," said Griselda, rather tartly; "though when you
+know quite well what I mean, I don't see that you need be so _very_
+particular. Well, as I was saying, I tried and _tried_, but still they
+were fearful. They were, indeed."
+
+"You've a great deal to learn, Griselda," repeated the cuckoo.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't say that so often," said Griselda. "I thought you
+were going to _play_ with me."
+
+"There's something in that," said the cuckoo, "there's something in
+that. I should like to talk about it. But we could talk more comfortably
+if you would come up here and sit beside me."
+
+Griselda thought her friend must be going out of his mind.
+
+"Sit beside you up there!" she exclaimed. "Cuckoo, how _could_ I? I'm
+far, far too big."
+
+"Big!" returned the cuckoo. "What do you mean by big? It's all a matter
+of fancy. Don't you know that if the world and everything in it,
+counting yourself of course, was all made little enough to go into a
+walnut, you'd never find out the difference."
+
+"_Wouldn't_ I?" said Griselda, feeling rather muddled; "but, _not_
+counting myself, cuckoo, I would then, wouldn't I?"
+
+"Nonsense," said the cuckoo hastily; "you've a great deal to learn, and
+one thing is, not to _argue_. Nobody should argue; it's a shocking bad
+habit, and ruins the digestion. Come up here and sit beside me
+comfortably. Catch hold of the chain; you'll find you can manage if you
+try."
+
+"But it'll stop the clock," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel said I was
+never to touch the weights or the chains."
+
+"Stuff," said the cuckoo; "it won't stop the clock. Catch hold of the
+chains and swing yourself up. There now--I told you you could manage
+it."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+THE COUNTRY OF THE NODDING MANDARINS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "We're all nodding, nid-nid-nodding."
+
+
+How she managed it she never knew; but, somehow or other, it _was_
+managed. She seemed to slide up the chain just as easily as in a general
+way she would have slidden down, only without any disagreeable
+anticipation of a bump at the end of the journey. And when she got to
+the top how wonderfully different it looked from anything she could have
+expected! The doors stood open, and Griselda found them quite big
+enough, or herself quite small enough--which it was she couldn't tell,
+and as it was all a matter of fancy she decided not to trouble to
+inquire--to pass through quite comfortably.
+
+[Illustration: "ARE YOU COMFORTABLE?" INQUIRED THE CUCKOO]
+
+And inside there was the most charming little snuggery imaginable. It
+was something like a saloon railway carriage--it seemed to be all lined
+and carpeted and everything, with rich mossy red velvet; there was a
+little round table in the middle and two arm-chairs, on one of which sat
+the cuckoo--"quite like other people," thought Griselda to
+herself--while the other, as he pointed out to Griselda by a little nod,
+was evidently intended for her.
+
+"Thank you," said she, sitting down on the chair as she spoke.
+
+"Are you comfortable?" inquired the cuckoo.
+
+"Quite," replied Griselda, looking about her with great satisfaction.
+"Are all cuckoo clocks like this when you get up inside them?" she
+inquired. "I can't think how there's room for this dear little place
+between the clock and the wall. Is it a hole cut out of the wall on
+purpose, cuckoo?"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo, "we've got other things to talk about. First,
+shall I lend you one of my mantles? You may feel cold."
+
+"I don't just now," replied Griselda; "but perhaps I _might_."
+
+She looked at her little bare feet as she spoke, and wondered why _they_
+weren't cold, for it was very chilblainy weather.
+
+The cuckoo stood up, and with one of his claws reached from a corner
+where it was hanging a cloak which Griselda had not before noticed. For
+it was hanging wrong side out, and the lining was red velvet, very like
+what the sides of the little room were covered with, so it was no wonder
+she had not noticed it.
+
+Had it been hanging the _right_ side out she must have done so; this
+side was so very wonderful!
+
+It was all feathers--feathers of every shade and colour, but beautifully
+worked in, somehow, so as to lie quite smoothly and evenly, one colour
+melting away into another like those in a prism, so that you could
+hardly tell where one began and another ended.
+
+"What a _lovely_ cloak!" said Griselda, wrapping it round her and
+feeling even more comfortable than before, as she watched the rays of
+the little lamp in the roof--I think I was forgetting to tell you that
+the cuckoo's boudoir was lighted by a dear little lamp set into the red
+velvet roof like a pearl in a ring--playing softly on the brilliant
+colours of the feather mantle.
+
+"It's better than lovely," said the cuckoo, "as you shall see. Now,
+Griselda," he continued, in the tone of one coming to business--"now,
+Griselda, let us talk."
+
+"We have been talking," said Griselda, "ever so long. I am very
+comfortable. When you say 'let us talk' like that, it makes me forget
+all I wanted to say. Just let me sit still and say whatever comes into
+my head."
+
+"That won't do," said the cuckoo; "we must have a plan of action."
+
+"A what?" said Griselda.
+
+"You see you _have_ a great deal to learn," said the cuckoo
+triumphantly. "You don't understand what I say."
+
+"But I didn't come up here to learn," said Griselda; "I can do that down
+there;" and she nodded her head in the direction of the ante-room table.
+"I want to play."
+
+"Just so," said the cuckoo; "that's what I want to talk about. What do
+you call 'play'--blindman's-buff and that sort of thing?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, considering. "I'm getting rather too big for that
+kind of play. Besides, cuckoo, you and I alone couldn't have much fun at
+blindman's-buff; there'd be only me to catch you or you to catch me."
+
+"Oh, we could easily get more," said the cuckoo. "The mandarins would be
+pleased to join."
+
+"The mandarins!" repeated Griselda. "Why, cuckoo, they're not alive! How
+could they play?"
+
+The cuckoo looked at her gravely for a minute, then shook his head.
+
+"You have a _great_ deal to learn," he said solemnly. "Don't you know
+that _everything's_ alive?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I don't; and I don't know what you mean, and I
+don't think I want to know what you mean. I want to talk about playing."
+
+"Well," said the cuckoo, "talk."
+
+"What I call playing," pursued Griselda, "is--I have thought about it
+now, you see--is being amused. If you will amuse me, cuckoo, I will
+count that you are playing with me."
+
+"How shall I amuse you?" inquired he.
+
+"Oh, that's for you to find out!" exclaimed Griselda. "You might tell me
+fairy stories, you know: if you're a fairy you should know lots; or--oh
+yes, of course that would be far nicer--if you are a fairy you might
+take me with you to fairyland."
+
+Again the cuckoo shook his head.
+
+"That," said he, "I cannot do."
+
+"Why not?" said Griselda. "Lots of children have been there."
+
+"I doubt it," said the cuckoo. "_Some_ may have been, but not lots. And
+some may have thought they had been there who hadn't really been there
+at all. And as to those who have been there, you may be sure of one
+thing--they were not _taken_, they found their own way. No one ever was
+_taken_ to fairyland--to the real fairyland. They may have been taken to
+the neighbouring countries, but not to fairyland itself."
+
+"And how is one ever to find one's own way there?" asked Griselda.
+
+"That I cannot tell you either," replied the cuckoo. "There are many
+roads there; you may find yours some day. And if ever you do find it, be
+sure you keep what you see of it well swept and clean, and then you may
+see further after a while. Ah, yes, there are many roads and many doors
+into fairyland!"
+
+"Doors!" cried Griselda. "Are there any doors into fairyland in this
+house?"
+
+"Several," said the cuckoo; "but don't waste your time looking for them
+at present. It would be no use."
+
+"Then how will you amuse me?" inquired Griselda, in a rather
+disappointed tone.
+
+"Don't you care to go anywhere except to fairyland?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Oh yes, there are lots of places I wouldn't mind seeing. Not geography
+sort of places--it would be just like lessons to go to India and Africa
+and all those places--but _queer_ places, like the mines where the
+goblins make diamonds and precious stones, and the caves down under the
+sea where the mermaids live. And--oh, I've just thought--now I'm so nice
+and little, I _would_ like to go all over the mandarins' palace in the
+great saloon."
+
+"That can be easily managed," said the cuckoo; "but--excuse me for an
+instant," he exclaimed suddenly. He gave a spring forward and
+disappeared. Then Griselda heard his voice outside the doors, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo, cuckoo." It was three o'clock.
+
+The doors opened again to let him through, and he re-settled himself on
+his chair. "As I was saying," he went on, "nothing could be easier. But
+that palace, as you call it, has an entrance on the other side, as well
+as the one you know."
+
+"Another door, do you mean?" said Griselda. "How funny! Does it go
+through the wall? And where does it lead to?"
+
+"It leads," replied the cuckoo, "it leads to the country of the Nodding
+Mandarins."
+
+"_What_ fun!" exclaimed Griselda, clapping her hands. "Cuckoo, do let us
+go there. How can we get down? You can fly, but must I slide down the
+chain again?"
+
+"Oh dear, no," said the cuckoo, "by no means. You have only to stretch
+out your feather mantle, flap it as if it was wings--so"--he flapped
+his own wings encouragingly--"wish, and there you'll be."
+
+"Where?" said Griselda bewilderedly.
+
+"Wherever you wish to be, of course," said the cuckoo. "Are you ready?
+Here goes."
+
+"Wait--wait a moment," cried Griselda. "Where am I to wish to be?"
+
+"Bless the child!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "Where _do_ you wish to be? You
+said you wanted to visit the country of the Nodding Mandarins."
+
+"Yes; but am I to wish first to be in the palace in the great saloon?"
+
+"Certainly," replied the cuckoo. "That is the entrance to Mandarin Land,
+and you said you would like to see through it. So--you're surely ready
+now?"
+
+"A thought has just struck me," said Griselda. "How will you know what
+o'clock it is, so as to come back in time to tell the next hour? My
+aunts will get into such a fright if you go wrong again! Are you sure
+we shall have time to go to the mandarins' country to-night?"
+
+"Time!" repeated the cuckoo; "what is time? Ah, Griselda, you have a
+_very_ great deal to learn! What do you mean by time?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Griselda, feeling rather snubbed. "Being slow or
+quick--I suppose that's what I mean."
+
+"And what is slow, and what is quick?" said the cuckoo. "_All_ a matter
+of fancy! If everything that's been done since the world was made till
+now, was done over again in five minutes, you'd never know the
+difference."
+
+"Oh, cuckoo, I wish you wouldn't!" cried poor Griselda; "you're worse
+than sums, you do so puzzle me. It's like what you said about nothing
+being big or little, only it's worse. Where would all the days and hours
+be if there was nothing but minutes? Oh, cuckoo, you said you'd amuse
+me, and you do nothing but puzzle me."
+
+"It was your own fault. You wouldn't get ready," said the cuckoo,
+"_Now_, here goes! Flap and wish."
+
+Griselda flapped and wished. She felt a sort of rustle in the air, that
+was all--then she found herself standing with the cuckoo in front of the
+Chinese cabinet, the door of which stood open, while the mandarins on
+each side, nodding politely, seemed to invite them to enter. Griselda
+hesitated.
+
+"Go on," said the cuckoo, patronizingly; "ladies first."
+
+Griselda went on. To her surprise, inside the cabinet it was quite
+light, though where the light came from that illuminated all the queer
+corners and recesses and streamed out to the front, where stood the
+mandarins, she could not discover.
+
+The "palace" was not quite as interesting as she had expected. There
+were lots of little rooms in it opening on to balconies commanding, no
+doubt, a splendid view of the great saloon; there were ever so many
+little stair-cases leading to more little rooms and balconies; but it
+all seemed empty and deserted.
+
+"I don't care for it," said Griselda, stopping short at last; "it's all
+the same, and there's nothing to see. I thought my aunts kept ever so
+many beautiful things in here, and there's nothing."
+
+"Come along, then," said the cuckoo. "I didn't expect you'd care for the
+palace, as you called it, much. Let us go out the other way."
+
+He hopped down a sort of little staircase near which they were standing,
+and Griselda followed him willingly enough. At the foot they found
+themselves in a vestibule, much handsomer than the entrance at the other
+side, and the cuckoo, crossing it, lifted one of his claws and touched a
+spring in the wall. Instantly a pair of large doors flew open in the
+middle, revealing to Griselda the prettiest and most curious sight she
+had ever seen.
+
+[Illustration: HE FLAPPED HIS WINGS, AND A PALANQUIN APPEARED AT THE
+FOOT OF THE STEPS]
+
+A flight of wide, shallow steps led down from this doorway into a
+long, long avenue bordered by stiffly growing trees, from the branches
+of which hung innumerable lamps of every colour, making a perfect
+network of brilliance as far as the eye could reach.
+
+"Oh, how lovely!" cried Griselda, clapping her hands. "It'll be like
+walking along a rainbow. Cuckoo, come quick."
+
+"Stop," said the cuckoo; "we've a good way to go. There's no need to
+walk. Palanquin!"
+
+He flapped his wings, and instantly a palanquin appeared at the foot of
+the steps. It was made of carved ivory, and borne by four
+Chinese-looking figures with pigtails and bright-coloured jackets. A
+feeling came over Griselda that she was dreaming, or else that she had
+seen this palanquin before. She hesitated. Suddenly she gave a little
+jump of satisfaction.
+
+"I know," she exclaimed. "It's exactly like the one that stands under a
+glass shade on Lady Lavander's drawing-room mantelpiece. I wonder if it
+is the very one? Fancy me being able to get _into_ it!"
+
+She looked at the four bearers. Instantly they all nodded.
+
+"What do they mean?" asked Griselda, turning to the cuckoo.
+
+"Get in," he replied.
+
+"Yes, I'm just going to get in," she said; "but what do _they_ mean when
+they nod at me like that?"
+
+"They mean, of course, what I tell you--'Get in,'" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Why don't they say so, then?" persisted Griselda, getting in, however,
+as she spoke.
+
+"Griselda, you have a _very_ great----" began the cuckoo, but Griselda
+interrupted him.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "if you say that again, I'll jump out of the
+palanquin and run away home to bed. Of course I've a great deal to
+learn--that's why I like to ask questions about everything I see. Now,
+tell me where we are going."
+
+"In the first place," said the cuckoo, "are you comfortable?"
+
+"Very," said Griselda, settling herself down among the cushions.
+
+It was a change from the cuckoo's boudoir. There were no chairs or
+seats, only a number of very, _very_ soft cushions covered with green
+silk. There were green silk curtains all round, too, which you could
+draw or not as you pleased, just by touching a spring. Griselda stroked
+the silk gently. It was not "fruzzley" silk, if you know what that
+means; it did not make you feel as if your nails wanted cutting, or as
+if all the rough places on your skin were being rubbed up the wrong way;
+its softness was like that of a rose or pansy petal.
+
+"What nice silk!" said Griselda. "I'd like a dress of it. I never
+noticed that the palanquin was lined so nicely," she continued, "for I
+suppose it _is_ the one from Lady Lavander's mantelpiece? There couldn't
+be two so exactly like each other."
+
+The cuckoo gave a sort of whistle.
+
+"What a goose you are, my dear!" he exclaimed. "Excuse me," he
+continued, seeing that Griselda looked rather offended; "I didn't mean
+to hurt your feelings, but you won't let me say the other thing, you
+know. The palanquin from Lady Lavander's! I should think not. You might
+as well mistake one of those horrible paper roses that Dorcas sticks in
+her vases for one of your aunt's Gloires de Dijon! The palanquin from
+Lady Lavander's--a clumsy human imitation not worth looking at!"
+
+"I didn't know," said Griselda humbly. "Do they make such beautiful
+things in Mandarin Land?"
+
+"Of course," said the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda sat silent for a minute or two, but very soon she recovered her
+spirits.
+
+"Will you please tell me where we are going?" she asked again.
+
+"You'll see directly," said the cuckoo; "not that I mind telling you.
+There's to be a grand reception at one of the palaces to-night. I
+thought you'd like to assist at it. It'll give you some idea of what a
+palace is like. By-the-by, can you dance?"
+
+"A little," replied Griselda.
+
+"Ah, well, I dare say you will manage. I've ordered a court dress for
+you. It will be all ready when we get there."
+
+"Thank you," said Griselda.
+
+In a minute or two the palanquin stopped. The cuckoo got out, and
+Griselda followed him.
+
+She found that they were at the entrance to a _very_ much grander palace
+than the one in her aunt's saloon. The steps leading up to the door were
+very wide and shallow, and covered with a gold embroidered carpet, which
+_looked_ as if it would be prickly to her bare feet, but which, on the
+contrary, when she trod upon it, felt softer than the softest moss. She
+could see very little besides the carpet, for at each side of the steps
+stood rows and rows of mandarins, all something like, but a great deal
+grander than, the pair outside her aunt's cabinet; and as the cuckoo
+hopped and Griselda walked up the staircase, they all, in turn, row by
+row, began solemnly to nod. It gave them the look of a field of very
+high grass, through which, any one passing, leaves for the moment a
+trail, till all the heads bob up again into their places.
+
+"What do they mean?" whispered Griselda.
+
+"It's a royal salute," said the cuckoo.
+
+"A salute!" said Griselda. "I thought that meant kissing or guns."
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo, for by this time they had arrived at the top of
+the staircase; "you must be dressed now."
+
+Two mandariny-looking young ladies, with porcelain faces and
+three-cornered head-dresses, stepped forward and led Griselda into a
+small ante-room, where lay waiting for her the most magnificent dress
+you ever saw. But how _do_ you think they dressed her? It was all by
+nodding. They nodded to the blue and silver embroidered jacket, and in a
+moment it had fitted itself on to her. They nodded to the splendid
+scarlet satin skirt, made very short in front and very long behind, and
+before Griselda knew where she was, it was adjusted quite correctly.
+They nodded to the head-dress, and the sashes, and the necklaces and
+bracelets, and forthwith they all arranged themselves. Last of all, they
+nodded to the dearest, sweetest little pair of high-heeled shoes
+imaginable--all silver, and blue, and gold, and scarlet, and everything
+mixed up together, _only_ they were rather a stumpy shape about the toes
+and Griselda's bare feet were encased in them, and, to her surprise,
+quite comfortably so.
+
+"They don't hurt me a bit," she said aloud; "yet they didn't look the
+least the shape of my foot."
+
+But her attendants only nodded; and turning round, she saw the cuckoo
+waiting for her. He did not speak either, rather to her annoyance, but
+gravely led the way through one grand room after another to the
+grandest of all, where the entertainment was evidently just about to
+begin. And everywhere there were mandarins, rows and rows, who all set
+to work nodding as fast as Griselda appeared. She began to be rather
+tired of royal salutes, and was glad when, at last, in profound silence,
+the procession, consisting of the cuckoo and herself, and about half a
+dozen "mandarins," came to a halt before a kind of dais, or raised seat,
+at the end of the hall.
+
+Upon this dais stood a chair--a throne of some kind, Griselda supposed
+it to be--and upon this was seated the grandest and gravest personage
+she had yet seen.
+
+"Is he the king of the mandarins?" she whispered. But the cuckoo did not
+reply; and before she had time to repeat the question, the very grand
+and grave person got down from his seat, and coming towards her offered
+her his hand, at the same time nodding--first once, then two or three
+times together, then once again. Griselda seemed to know what he meant.
+He was asking her to dance.
+
+"Thank you," she said. "I can't dance _very_ well, but perhaps you won't
+mind."
+
+The king, if that was his title, took not the slightest notice of her
+reply, but nodded again--once, then two or three times together, then
+once alone, just as before. Griselda did not know what to do, when
+suddenly she felt something poking her head. It was the cuckoo--he had
+lifted his claw, and was tapping her head to make her nod. So she
+nodded--once, twice together, then once--that appeared to be enough. The
+king nodded once again; an invisible band suddenly struck up the
+loveliest music, and off they set to the places of honour reserved for
+them in the centre of the room, where all the mandarins were assembling.
+
+What a dance that was! It began like a minuet and ended something like
+the haymakers. Griselda had not the least idea what the figures or steps
+were, but it did not matter. If she did not know, her shoes or
+something about her did; for she got on famously. The music was
+lovely--"so the mandarins can't be deaf, though they are dumb," thought
+Griselda, "which is one good thing about them." The king seemed to enjoy
+it as much as she did, though he never smiled or laughed; any one could
+have seen he liked it by the way he whirled and twirled himself about.
+And between the figures, when they stopped to rest for a little,
+Griselda got on very well too. There was no conversation, or rather, if
+there was, it was all nodding.
+
+So Griselda nodded too, and though she did not know what her nods meant,
+the king seemed to understand and be quite pleased; and when they had
+nodded enough, the music struck up again, and off they set, harder than
+before.
+
+And every now and then tiny little mandariny boys appeared with trays
+filled with the most delicious fruits and sweetmeats. Griselda was not
+a greedy child, but for once in her life she really _did_ feel rather
+so. I cannot possibly describe these delicious things; just think of
+whatever in all your life was the most "lovely" thing you ever eat, and
+you may be sure they tasted like that. Only the cuckoo would not eat
+any, which rather distressed Griselda. He walked about among the
+dancers, apparently quite at home; and the mandarins did not seem at all
+surprised to see him, though he did look rather odd, being nearly, if
+not quite, as big as any of them. Griselda hoped he was enjoying
+himself, considering that she had to thank him for all the fun _she_ was
+having, but she felt a little conscience-stricken when she saw that he
+wouldn't eat anything.
+
+"Cuckoo," she whispered; she dared not talk out loud--it would have
+seemed so remarkable, you see. "Cuckoo," she said, very, very softly, "I
+wish you would eat something. You'll be so tired and hungry."
+
+"No, thank you," said the cuckoo; and you can't think how pleased
+Griselda was at having succeeded in making him speak. "It isn't my way.
+I hope you are enjoying yourself?"
+
+"Oh, _very_ much," said Griselda. "I----"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and looking up, Griselda saw a number of
+mandarins, in a sort of procession, coming their way.
+
+When they got up to the cuckoo they set to work nodding, two or three at
+a time, more energetically than usual. When they stopped, the cuckoo
+nodded in return, and then hopped off towards the middle of the room.
+
+"They're very fond of good music, you see," he whispered as he passed
+Griselda; "and they don't often get it."
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+PICTURES
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "And she is always beautiful
+    And always is eighteen!"
+
+
+When he got to the middle of the room the cuckoo cleared his throat,
+flapped his wings, and began to sing. Griselda was quite astonished. She
+had had no idea that her friend was so accomplished. It wasn't
+"cuckooing" at all; it was real singing, like that of the nightingale or
+the thrush, or like something prettier than either. It made Griselda
+think of woods in summer, and of tinkling brooks flowing through them,
+with the pretty brown pebbles sparkling up through the water; and then
+it made her think of something sad--she didn't know what; perhaps it was
+of the babes in the wood and the robins covering them up with
+leaves--and then again, in a moment, it sounded as if all the merry
+elves and sprites that ever were heard of had escaped from fairyland,
+and were rolling over and over with peals of rollicking laughter. And at
+last, all of a sudden, the song came to an end.
+
+"Cuckoo! cuckoo! cuckoo!" rang out three times, clear and shrill. The
+cuckoo flapped his wings, made a bow to the mandarins, and retired to
+his old corner.
+
+There was no buzz of talk, as is usual after a performance has come to a
+close, but there was a great buzz of nodding, and Griselda, wishing to
+give the cuckoo as much praise as she could, nodded as hard as any of
+them. The cuckoo really looked quite shy at receiving so much applause.
+But in a minute or two the music struck up and the dancing began
+again--one, two, three: it seemed a sort of mazurka this time, which
+suited the mandarins very well, as it gave them a chance of nodding to
+mark the time.
+
+Griselda had once learnt the mazurka, so she got on even better than
+before--only she would have liked it more if her shoes had had sharper
+toes; they looked so stumpy when she tried to point them. All the same,
+it was very good fun, and she was not too well pleased when she suddenly
+felt the little sharp tap of the cuckoo on her head, and heard him
+whisper--
+
+"Griselda, it's time to go."
+
+"Oh dear, why?" she asked. "I'm not a bit tired. Why need we go yet?"
+
+"Obeying orders," said the cuckoo; and after that, Griselda dared not
+say another word. It was very nearly as bad as being told she had a
+great deal to learn.
+
+"Must I say good-bye to the king and all the people?" she inquired; but
+before the cuckoo had time to answer, she gave a little squeal. "Oh,
+cuckoo," she cried, "you've trod on my foot."
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the cuckoo.
+
+"I must take off my shoe; it does so hurt," she went on.
+
+"Take it off, then," said the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda stooped to take off her shoe. "Are we going home in the
+pal----?" she began to say; but she never finished the sentence, for
+just as she had got her shoe off she felt the cuckoo throw something
+round her. It was the feather mantle.
+
+And Griselda knew nothing more till she opened her eyes the next
+morning, and saw the first early rays of sunshine peeping in through the
+chinks of the closed shutters of her little bed-room.
+
+She rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. Could it have been a dream?
+
+"What could have made me fall asleep so all of a sudden?" she thought.
+"I wasn't the least sleepy at the mandarins' ball. What fun it was! I
+believe that cuckoo made me fall asleep on purpose to make me fancy it
+was a dream. _Was_ it a dream?"
+
+She began to feel confused and doubtful, when suddenly she felt
+something hurting her arm, like a little lump in the bed. She felt with
+her hand to see if she could smooth it away, and drew out--one of the
+shoes belonging to her court dress! The very one she had held in her
+hand at the moment the cuckoo spirited her home again to bed.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "you meant to play me a trick, but you
+haven't succeeded, you see."
+
+She jumped out of bed and unfastened one of the window-shutters, then
+jumped in again to admire the little shoe in comfort. It was even
+prettier than she had thought it at the ball. She held it up and looked
+at it. It was about the size of the first joint of her little finger.
+"To think that I should have been dancing with you on last night!" she
+said to the shoe. "And yet the cuckoo says being big or little is all a
+matter of fancy. I wonder what he'll think of to amuse me next?"
+
+She was still holding up the shoe and admiring it when Dorcas came with
+the hot water.
+
+"Look, Dorcas," she said.
+
+"Bless me, it's one of the shoes off the Chinese dolls in the saloon,"
+exclaimed the old servant. "How ever did you get that, missie? Your
+aunts wouldn't be pleased."
+
+"It just isn't one of the Chinese dolls' shoes, and if you don't believe
+me, you can go and look for yourself," said Griselda. "It's my very own
+shoe, and it was given me to my own self."
+
+Dorcas looked at her curiously, but said no more, only as she was going
+out of the room Griselda heard her saying something about "so very like
+Miss Sybilla."
+
+"I wonder what 'Miss Sybilla' _was_ like?" thought Griselda. "I have a
+good mind to ask the cuckoo. He seems to have known her very well."
+
+It was not for some days that Griselda had a chance of asking the cuckoo
+anything. She saw and heard nothing of him--nothing, that is to say, but
+his regular appearance to tell the hours as usual.
+
+"I suppose," thought Griselda, "he thinks the mandarins' ball was fun
+enough to last me a good while. It really was very good-natured of him
+to take me to it, so I mustn't grumble."
+
+A few days after this poor Griselda caught cold. It was not a very bad
+cold, I must confess, but her aunts made rather a fuss about it. They
+wanted her to stay in bed, but to this Griselda so much objected that
+they did not insist upon it.
+
+"It would be so dull," she said piteously. "Please let me stay in the
+ante-room, for all my things are there; and, then, there's the cuckoo."
+
+Aunt Grizzel smiled at this, and Griselda got her way. But even in the
+ante-room it was rather dull. Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha were
+obliged to go out, to drive all the way to Merrybrow Hall, as Lady
+Lavander sent a messenger to say that she had an attack of influenza,
+and wished to see her friends at once.
+
+Miss Tabitha began to cry--she was so tender-hearted.
+
+"Troubles never come singly," said Miss Grizzel, by way of consolation.
+
+"No, indeed, they never come singly," said Miss Tabitha, shaking her
+head and wiping her eyes.
+
+So off they set; and Griselda, in her arm-chair by the ante-room fire,
+with some queer little old-fashioned books of her aunts', which she had
+already read more than a dozen times, beside her by way of amusement,
+felt that there was one comfort in her troubles--she had escaped the
+long weary drive to her godmother's.
+
+But it was very dull. It got duller and duller. Griselda curled herself
+up in her chair, and wished she could go to sleep, though feeling quite
+sure she couldn't, for she had stayed in bed much later than usual this
+morning, and had been obliged to spend the time in sleeping, for want of
+anything better to do.
+
+She looked up at the clock.
+
+"I don't know even what to wish for," she said to herself. "I don't feel
+the least inclined to play at anything, and I shouldn't care to go to
+the mandarins again. Oh, cuckoo, cuckoo, I am so dull; couldn't you
+think of anything to amuse me?"
+
+It was not near "any o'clock." But after waiting a minute or two, it
+seemed to Griselda that she heard the soft sound of "coming" that always
+preceded the cuckoo's appearance. She was right. In another moment she
+heard his usual greeting, "Cuckoo, cuckoo!"
+
+"Oh, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come at last. I _am_
+so dull, and it has nothing to do with lessons this time. It's that I've
+got such a bad cold, and my head's aching, and I'm so tired of reading,
+all by myself."
+
+"What would you like to do?" said the cuckoo. "You don't want to go to
+see the mandarins again?"
+
+"Oh no; I couldn't dance."
+
+"Or the mermaids down under the sea?"
+
+"Oh, dear, no," said Griselda, with a little shiver, "it would be far
+too cold. I would just like to stay where I am, if some one would tell
+me stories. I'm not even sure that I could listen to stories. What could
+you do to amuse me, cuckoo?"
+
+"Would you like to see some pictures?" said the cuckoo. "I could show
+you pictures without your taking any trouble."
+
+"Oh yes, that would be beautiful," cried Griselda. "What pictures will
+you show me? Oh, I know. I would like to see the place where you were
+born--where that very, very clever man made you and the clock, I mean."
+
+"Your great-great-grandfather," said the cuckoo. "Very well. Now,
+Griselda, shut your eyes. First of all, I am going to sing."
+
+Griselda shut her eyes, and the cuckoo began his song. It was something
+like what he had sung at the mandarins' palace, only even more
+beautiful. It was so soft and dreamy, Griselda felt as if she could have
+sat there for ever, listening to it.
+
+The first notes were low and murmuring. Again they made Griselda think
+of little rippling brooks in summer, and now and then there came a sort
+of hum as of insects buzzing in the warm sunshine near. This humming
+gradually increased, till at last Griselda was conscious of nothing
+more--_everything_ seemed to be humming, herself too, till at last she
+fell asleep.
+
+When she opened her eyes, the ante-room and everything in it, except the
+arm-chair on which she was still curled up, had disappeared--melted away
+into a misty cloud all round her, which in turn gradually faded, till
+before her she saw a scene quite new and strange. It was the first of
+the cuckoo's "pictures."
+
+An old, quaint room, with a high, carved mantelpiece, and a bright fire
+sparkling in the grate. It was not a pretty room--it had more the look
+of a workshop of some kind; but it was curious and interesting. All
+round, the walls were hung with clocks and strange mechanical toys.
+There was a fiddler slowly fiddling, a gentleman and lady gravely
+dancing a minuet, a little man drawing up water in a bucket out of a
+glass vase in which gold fish were swimming about--all sorts of queer
+figures; and the clocks were even queerer. There was one intended to
+represent the sun, moon, and planets, with one face for the sun and
+another for the moon, and gold and silver stars slowly circling round
+them; there was another clock with a tiny trumpeter perched on a ledge
+above the face, who blew a horn for the hours. I cannot tell you half
+the strange and wonderful things there were.
+
+Griselda was so interested in looking at all these queer machines, that
+she did not for some time observe the occupant of the room. And no
+wonder; he was sitting in front of a little table, so perfectly still,
+much more still than the un-living figures around him. He was examining,
+with a magnifying glass, some small object he held in his hand, so
+closely and intently that Griselda, forgetting she was only looking at a
+"picture," almost held her breath for fear she should disturb him. He
+was a very old man, his coat was worn and threadbare in several places,
+looking as if he spent a great part of his life in one position. Yet he
+did not look _poor_, and his face, when at last he lifted it, was mild
+and intelligent and very earnest.
+
+While Griselda was watching him closely there came a soft tap at the
+door, and a little girl danced into the room. The dearest little girl
+you ever saw, and _so_ funnily dressed! Her thick brown hair, rather
+lighter than Griselda's, was tied in two long plaits down her back. She
+had a short red skirt with silver braid round the bottom, and a white
+chemisette with beautiful lace at the throat and wrists, and over that
+again a black velvet bodice, also trimmed with silver. And she had a
+great many trinkets, necklaces, and bracelets, and ear-rings, and a sort
+of little silver coronet; no, it was not like a coronet, it was a band
+with a square piece of silver fastened so as to stand up at each side of
+her head something like a horse's blinkers, only they were not placed
+over her eyes.
+
+She made quite a jingle as she came into the room, and the old man
+looked up with a smile of pleasure.
+
+"Well, my darling, and are you all ready for your _fete_?" he said; and
+though the language in which he spoke was quite strange to Griselda, she
+understood his meaning perfectly well.
+
+"Yes, dear grandfather; and isn't my dress lovely?" said the child. "I
+should be _so_ happy if only you were coming too, and would get
+yourself a beautiful velvet coat like Mynheer van Huyten."
+
+The old man shook his head.
+
+"I have no time for such things, my darling," he replied; "and besides,
+I am too old. I must work--work hard to make money for my pet when I am
+gone, that she may not be dependent on the bounty of those English
+sisters."
+
+"But I won't care for money when you are gone, grandfather," said the
+child, her eyes filling with tears. "I would rather just go on living in
+this little house, and I am sure the neighbours would give me something
+to eat, and then I could hear all your clocks ticking, and think of you.
+I don't want you to sell all your wonderful things for money for me,
+grandfather. They would remind me of you, and money wouldn't."
+
+"Not all, Sybilla, not all," said the old man. "The best of all, the
+_chef-d'oeuvre_ of my life, shall not be sold. It shall be yours,
+and you will have in your possession a clock that crowned heads might
+seek in vain to purchase."
+
+His dim old eyes brightened, and for a moment he sat erect and strong.
+
+"Do you mean the cuckoo clock?" said Sybilla, in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, my darling, the cuckoo clock, the crowning work of my life--a
+clock that shall last long after I, and perhaps thou, my pretty child,
+are crumbling into dust; a clock that shall last to tell my
+great-grandchildren to many generations that the old Dutch mechanic was
+not altogether to be despised."
+
+Sybilla sprang into his arms.
+
+"You are not to talk like that, little grandfather," she said. "I shall
+teach my children and my grandchildren to be so proud of you--oh, so
+proud!--as proud as I am of you, little grandfather."
+
+"Gently, my darling," said the old man, as he placed carefully on the
+table the delicate piece of mechanism he held in his hand, and tenderly
+embraced the child. "Kiss me once again, my pet, and then thou must go;
+thy little friends will be waiting."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As he said these words the mist slowly gathered again before Griselda's
+eyes--the first of the cuckoo's pictures faded from her sight.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she looked again the scene was changed, but this time it was not a
+strange one, though Griselda had gazed at it for some moments before she
+recognized it. It was the great saloon, but it looked very different
+from what she had ever seen it. Forty years or so make a difference in
+rooms as well as in people!
+
+The faded yellow damask hangings were rich and brilliant. There were
+bouquets of lovely flowers arranged about the tables; wax lights were
+sending out their brightness in every direction, and the room was
+filled with ladies and gentlemen in gay attire.
+
+Among them, after a time, Griselda remarked two ladies, no longer very
+young, but still handsome and stately, and something whispered to her
+that they were her two aunts, Miss Grizzel and Miss Tabitha.
+
+"Poor aunts!" she said softly to herself; "how old they have grown since
+then."
+
+But she did not long look at them; her attention was attracted by a much
+younger lady--a mere girl she seemed, but oh, so sweet and pretty! She
+was dancing with a gentleman whose eyes looked as if they saw no one
+else, and she herself seemed brimming over with youth and happiness. Her
+very steps had joy in them.
+
+"Well, Griselda," whispered a voice, which she knew was the cuckoo's;
+"so you don't like to be told you are like your grandmother, eh?"
+
+Griselda turned round sharply to look for the speaker, but he was not to
+be seen. And when she turned again, the picture of the great saloon had
+faded away.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One more picture.
+
+Griselda looked again. She saw before her a country road in full summer
+time; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the trees covered
+with their bright green leaves--everything appeared happy and joyful.
+But at last in the distance she saw, slowly approaching, a group of a
+few people, all walking together, carrying in their centre something
+long and narrow, which, though the black cloth covering it was almost
+hidden by the white flowers with which it was thickly strewn, Griselda
+knew to be a coffin.
+
+It was a funeral procession, and in the place of chief mourner, with
+pale, set face, walked the same young man whom Griselda had last seen
+dancing with the girl Sybilla in the great saloon.
+
+The sad group passed slowly out of sight; but as it disappeared there
+fell upon the ear the sounds of sweet music, lovelier far than she had
+heard before--lovelier than the magic cuckoo's most lovely songs--and
+somehow, in the music, it seemed to the child's fancy there were mingled
+the soft strains of a woman's voice.
+
+"It is Sybilla singing," thought Griselda dreamily, and with that she
+fell asleep again.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she woke she was in the arm-chair by the ante-room fire, everything
+around her looking just as usual, the cuckoo clock ticking away calmly
+and regularly. Had it been a dream only? Griselda could not make up her
+mind.
+
+"But I don't see that it matters if it was," she said to herself. "If it
+was a dream, the cuckoo sent it to me all the same, and I thank you very
+much indeed, cuckoo," she went on, looking up at the clock. "The last
+picture was rather sad, but still it was very nice to see it, and I
+thank you very much, and I'll never say again that I don't like to be
+told I'm like my dear pretty grandmother."
+
+The cuckoo took no notice of what she said, but Griselda did not mind.
+She was getting used to his "ways."
+
+"I expect he hears me quite well," she thought; "and even if he doesn't,
+it's only civil to _try_ to thank him."
+
+She sat still contentedly enough, thinking over what she had seen, and
+trying to make more "pictures" for herself in the fire. Then there came
+faintly to her ears the sound of carriage wheels, opening and shutting
+of doors, a little bustle of arrival.
+
+"My aunts must have come back," thought Griselda; and so it was. In a
+few minutes Miss Grizzel, closely followed by Miss Tabitha, appeared at
+the ante-room door.
+
+"Well, my love," said Miss Grizzel anxiously, "and how are you? Has the
+time seemed very long while we were away?"
+
+"Oh no, thank you, Aunt Grizzel," replied Griselda, "not at all. I've
+been quite happy, and my cold's ever so much better, and my headache's
+_quite_ gone."
+
+"Come, that is good news," said Miss Grizzel. "Not that I'm exactly
+_surprised_," she continued, turning to Miss Tabitha, "for there really
+is nothing like tansy tea for a feverish cold."
+
+"Nothing," agreed Miss Tabitha; "there really is nothing like it."
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, after a few moments' silence, "was my
+grandmother quite young when she died?"
+
+"Yes, my love, very young," replied Miss Grizzel with a change in her
+voice.
+
+"And was her husband _very_ sorry?" pursued Griselda.
+
+"Heart-broken," said Miss Grizzel. "He did not live long after, and then
+you know, my dear, your father was sent to us to take care of. And now
+he has sent _you_--the third generation of young creatures confided to
+our care."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "My grandmother died in the summer, when all the
+flowers were out; and she was buried in a pretty country place, wasn't
+she?"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Grizzel, looking rather bewildered.
+
+"And when she was a little girl she lived with her grandfather, the old
+Dutch mechanic," continued Griselda, unconsciously using the very words
+she had heard in her vision. "He was a nice old man; and how clever of
+him to have made the cuckoo clock, and such lots of other pretty,
+wonderful things. I don't wonder little Sybilla loved him; he was so
+good to her. But, oh, Aunt Grizzel, _how_ pretty she was when she was a
+young lady! That time that she danced with my grandfather in the great
+saloon. And how very nice you and Aunt Tabitha looked then, too."
+
+Miss Grizzel held her very breath in astonishment; and no doubt if Miss
+Tabitha had known she was doing so, she would have held hers too. But
+Griselda lay still, gazing at the fire, quite unconscious of her aunt's
+surprise.
+
+"Your papa told you all these old stories, I suppose, my dear," said
+Miss Grizzel at last.
+
+"Oh no," said Griselda dreamily. "Papa never told me anything like that.
+Dorcas told me a very little, I think; at least, she made me want to
+know, and I asked the cuckoo, and then, you see, he showed me it all. It
+was so pretty."
+
+Miss Grizzel glanced at her sister.
+
+"Tabitha, my dear," she said in a low voice, "do you hear?"
+
+And Miss Tabitha, who really was not very deaf when she set herself to
+hear, nodded in awe-struck silence.
+
+"Tabitha," continued Miss Grizzel in the same tone, "it is wonderful!
+Ah, yes, how true it is, Tabitha, that 'there are more things in heaven
+and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy'" (for Miss Grizzel was a
+well-read old lady, you see); "and from the very first, Tabitha, we
+always had a feeling that the child was strangely like Sybilla."
+
+"Strangely like Sybilla," echoed Miss Tabitha.
+
+"May she grow up as good, if not quite as beautiful--_that_ we could
+scarcely expect; and may she be longer spared to those that love her,"
+added Miss Grizzel, bending over Griselda, while two or three tears
+slowly trickled down her aged cheeks. "See, Tabitha, the dear child is
+fast asleep. How sweet she looks! I trust by to-morrow morning she will
+be quite herself again; her cold is so much better."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+RUBBED THE WRONG WAY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "For now and then there comes a day
+    When everything goes wrong."
+
+
+Griselda's cold _was_ much better by "to-morrow morning." In fact, I
+might almost say it was quite well.
+
+But Griselda herself did not feel quite well, and saying this reminds me
+that it is hardly sense to speak of a _cold_ being better or well--for a
+cold's being "well" means that it is not there at all, out of existence,
+in short, and if a thing is out of existence how can we say anything
+about it? Children, I feel quite in a hobble--I cannot get my mind
+straight about it--please think it over and give me your opinion. In the
+meantime, I will go on about Griselda.
+
+She felt just a little ill--a sort of feeling that sometimes is rather
+nice, sometimes "very extremely" much the reverse! She felt in the
+humour for being petted, and having beef-tea, and jelly, and sponge cake
+with her tea, and for a day or two this was all very well. She _was_
+petted, and she had lots of beef-tea, and jelly, and grapes, and sponge
+cakes, and everything nice, for her aunts, as you must have seen by this
+time, were really very, very kind to her in every way in which they
+understood how to be so.
+
+But after a few days of the continued petting, and the beef-tea and the
+jelly and all the rest of it, it occurred to Miss Grizzel, who had a
+good large bump of "common sense," that it might be possible to overdo
+this sort of thing.
+
+"Tabitha," she said to her sister, when they were sitting together in
+the evening after Griselda had gone to bed, "Tabitha, my dear, I think
+the child is quite well again now. It seems to me it would be well to
+send a note to good Mr. Kneebreeches, to say that she will be able to
+resume her studies the day after to-morrow."
+
+"The day after to-morrow," repeated Miss Tabitha. "The day after
+to-morrow--to say that she will be able to resume her studies the day
+after to-morrow--oh yes, certainly. It would be very well to send a note
+to good Mr. Kneebreeches, my dear Grizzel."
+
+"I thought you would agree with me," said Miss Grizzel, with a sigh of
+relief (as if poor Miss Tabitha during all the last half-century had
+ever ventured to do anything else), getting up to fetch her writing
+materials as she spoke. "It is such a satisfaction to consult together
+about what we do. I was only a little afraid of being hard upon the
+child, but as you agree with me, I have no longer any misgiving."
+
+"Any misgiving, oh dear, no!" said Miss Tabitha. "You have no reason
+for any misgiving, I am sure, my dear Grizzel."
+
+So the note was written and despatched, and the next morning when, about
+twelve o'clock, Griselda made her appearance in the little drawing-room
+where her aunts usually sat, looking, it must be confessed, very plump
+and rosy for an invalid, Miss Grizzel broached the subject.
+
+"I have written to request Mr. Kneebreeches to resume his instructions
+to-morrow," she said quietly. "I think you are quite well again now, so
+Dorcas must wake you at your usual hour."
+
+Griselda had been settling herself comfortably on a corner of the sofa.
+She had got a nice book to read, which her father, hearing of her
+illness, had sent her by post, and she was looking forward to the
+tempting plateful of jelly which Dorcas had brought her for luncheon
+every day since she had been ill. Altogether, she was feeling very
+"lazy-easy" and contented. Her aunt's announcement felt like a sudden
+downpour of cold water, or rush of east wind. She sat straight up in her
+sofa, and exclaimed in a tone of great annoyance--
+
+"_Oh_, Aunt Grizzel!"
+
+"Well, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel, placidly.
+
+"I _wish_ you wouldn't make me begin lessons again just yet. I _know_
+they'll make my head ache again, and Mr. Kneebreeches will be _so_
+cross. I know he will, and he is so horrid when he is cross."
+
+"Hush!" said Miss Grizzel, holding up her hand in a way that reminded
+Griselda of the cuckoo's favourite "obeying orders." Just then, too, in
+the distance the ante-room clock struck twelve. "Cuckoo! cuckoo!
+cuckoo!" on it went. Griselda could have stamped with irritation, but
+_somehow_, in spite of herself, she felt compelled to say nothing. She
+muttered some not very pretty words, coiled herself round on the sofa,
+opened her book, and began to read.
+
+But it was not as interesting as she had expected. She had not read many
+pages before she began to yawn, and she was delighted to be interrupted
+by Dorcas and the jelly.
+
+But the jelly was not as nice as she had expected, either. She tasted
+it, and thought it was too sweet; and when she tasted it again, it
+seemed too strong of cinnamon; and the third taste seemed too strong of
+everything. She laid down her spoon, and looked about her
+discontentedly.
+
+"What is the matter, my dear?" said Miss Grizzel. "Is the jelly not to
+your liking?"
+
+"I don't know," said Griselda shortly. She ate a few spoonfuls, and then
+took up her book again. Miss Grizzel said nothing more, but to herself
+she thought that Mr. Kneebreeches had not been recalled any too soon.
+
+All day long it was much the same. Nothing seemed to come right to
+Griselda. It was a dull, cold day, what is called "a black frost"; not a
+bright, clear, _pretty_, cold day, but the sort of frost that really
+makes the world seem dead--makes it almost impossible to believe that
+there will ever be warmth and sound and "growing-ness" again.
+
+Late in the afternoon Griselda crept up to the ante-room, and sat down
+by the window. Outside it was nearly dark, and inside it was not much
+more cheerful--for the fire was nearly out, and no lamps were lighted;
+only the cuckoo clock went on tick-ticking briskly as usual.
+
+"I hate winter," said Griselda, pressing her cold little face against
+the colder window-pane, "I hate winter, and I hate lessons. I would give
+up being a _person_ in a minute if I might be a--a--what would I best
+like to be? Oh yes, I know--a butterfly. Butterflies never see winter,
+and they _certainly_ never have any lessons or any kind of work to do. I
+hate _must_-ing to do anything."
+
+"Cuckoo," rang out suddenly above her head. It was only four o'clock
+striking, and as soon as he had told it the cuckoo was back behind his
+doors again in an instant, just as usual. There was nothing for
+Griselda to feel offended at, but somehow she got quite angry.
+
+"I don't care what you think, cuckoo!" she exclaimed defiantly. "I know
+you came out on purpose just now, but I don't care. I _do_ hate winter,
+and I _do_ hate lessons, and I _do_ think it would be nicer to be a
+butterfly than a little girl."
+
+In her secret heart I fancy she was half in hopes that the cuckoo would
+come out again, and talk things over with her. Even if he were to scold
+her, she felt that it would be better than sitting there alone with
+nobody to speak to, which was very dull work indeed. At the bottom of
+her conscience there lurked the knowledge that what she _should_ be
+doing was to be looking over her last lessons with Mr. Kneebreeches, and
+refreshing her memory for the next day; but, alas! knowing one's duty is
+by no means the same thing as doing it, and Griselda sat on by the
+window doing nothing but grumble and work herself up into a belief that
+she was one of the most-to-be-pitied little girls in all the world. So
+that by the time Dorcas came to call her to tea, I doubt if she had a
+single pleasant thought or feeling left in her heart.
+
+Things grew no better after tea, and before long Griselda asked if she
+might go to bed. She was "so tired," she said; and she certainly looked
+so, for ill-humour and idleness are excellent "tirers," and will soon
+take the roses out of a child's cheeks, and the brightness out of her
+eyes. She held up her face to be kissed by her aunts in a meekly
+reproachful way, which made the old ladies feel quite uncomfortable.
+
+"I am by no means sure that I have done right in recalling Mr.
+Kneebreeches so soon, Sister Tabitha," remarked Miss Grizzel, uneasily,
+when Griselda had left the room. But Miss Tabitha was busy counting her
+stitches, and did not give full attention to Miss Grizzel's observation,
+so she just repeated placidly, "Oh yes, Sister Grizzel, you may be sure
+you have done right in recalling Mr. Kneebreeches."
+
+"I am glad you think so," said Miss Grizzel, with again a little sigh of
+relief. "I was only distressed to see the child looking so white and
+tired."
+
+Upstairs Griselda was hurry-scurrying into bed. There was a lovely fire
+in her room--fancy that! Was she not a poor neglected little creature?
+But even this did not please her. She was too cross to be pleased with
+anything; too cross to wash her face and hands, or let Dorcas brush her
+hair out nicely as usual; too cross, alas, to say her prayers! She just
+huddled into bed, huddling up her mind in an untidy hurry and confusion,
+just as she left her clothes in an untidy heap on the floor. She would
+not look into herself, was the truth of it; she shrank from doing so
+because she _knew_ things had been going on in that silly little heart
+of hers in a most unsatisfactory way all day, and she wanted to go to
+sleep and forget all about it.
+
+She did go to sleep, very quickly too. No doubt she really was tired;
+tired with crossness and doing nothing, and she slept very soundly. When
+she woke up she felt so refreshed and rested that she fancied it must be
+morning. It was dark, of course, but that was to be expected in
+mid-winter, especially as the shutters were closed.
+
+"I wonder," thought Griselda, "I wonder if it really _is_ morning. I
+should like to get up early--I went so early to bed. I think I'll just
+jump out of bed and open a chink of the shutters. I'll see at once if
+it's nearly morning, by the look of the sky."
+
+She was up in a minute, feeling her way across the room to the window,
+and without much difficulty she found the hook of the shutters,
+unfastened it, and threw one side open. Ah no, there was no sign of
+morning to be seen. There was moonlight, but nothing else, and not so
+very much of that, for the clouds were hurrying across the "orbed
+maiden's" face at such a rate, one after the other, that the light was
+more like a number of pale flashes than the steady, cold shining of most
+frosty moonlight nights. There was going to be a change of weather, and
+the cloud armies were collecting together from all quarters; that was
+the real explanation of the hurrying and skurrying Griselda saw
+overhead, but this, of course, she did not understand. She only saw that
+it looked wild and stormy, and she shivered a little, partly with cold,
+partly with a half-frightened feeling that she could not have explained.
+
+"I had better go back to bed," she said to herself; "but I am not a bit
+sleepy."
+
+She was just drawing-to the shutter again, when something caught her
+eye, and she stopped short in surprise. A little bird was outside on the
+window-sill--a tiny bird crouching in close to the cold glass.
+Griselda's kind heart was touched in an instant. Cold as she was, she
+pushed back the shutter again, and drawing a chair forward to the
+window, managed to unfasten it--it was not a very heavy one--and to
+open it wide enough to slip her hand gently along to the bird. It did
+not start or move.
+
+"Can it be dead?" thought Griselda anxiously.
+
+But no, it was not dead. It let her put her hand round it and draw it
+in, and to her delight she felt that it was soft and warm, and it even
+gave a gentle peck on her thumb.
+
+"Poor little bird, how cold you must be," she said kindly. But, to her
+amazement, no sooner was the bird safely inside the room, than it
+managed cleverly to escape from her hand. It fluttered quietly up on to
+her shoulder, and sang out in a soft but cheery tone, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo--cold, did you say, Griselda? Not so very, thank you."
+
+Griselda stept back from the window.
+
+"It's _you_, is it?" she said rather surlily, her tone seeming to infer
+that she had taken a great deal of trouble for nothing.
+
+"Of course it is, and why shouldn't it be? You're not generally so
+sorry to see me. What's the matter?"
+
+"Nothing's the matter," replied Griselda, feeling a little ashamed of
+her want of civility; "only, you see, if I had known it was _you_----"
+She hesitated.
+
+"You wouldn't have clambered up and hurt your poor fingers in opening
+the window if you had known it was me--is that it, eh?" said the cuckoo.
+
+Somehow, when the cuckoo said "eh?" like that, Griselda was obliged to
+tell just what she was thinking.
+
+"No, I wouldn't have _needed_ to open the window," she said. "_You_ can
+get in or out whenever you like; you're not like a real bird. Of course,
+you were just tricking me, sitting out there and pretending to be a
+starved robin."
+
+There was a little indignation in her voice, and she gave her head a
+toss, which nearly upset the cuckoo.
+
+"Dear me, dear me!" exclaimed the cuckoo. "You have a great deal to
+complain of, Griselda. Your time and strength must be very valuable for
+you to regret so much having wasted a little of them on me."
+
+Griselda felt her face grow red. What did he mean? Did he know how
+yesterday had been spent? She said nothing, but she drooped her head,
+and one or two tears came slowly creeping up to her eyes.
+
+"Child!" said the cuckoo, suddenly changing his tone, "you are very
+foolish. Is a kind thought or action _ever_ wasted? Can your eyes see
+what such good seeds grow into? They have wings, Griselda--kindnesses
+have wings and roots, remember that--wings that never droop, and roots
+that never die. What do you think I came and sat outside your window
+for?"
+
+"Cuckoo," said Griselda humbly, "I am very sorry."
+
+"Very well," said the cuckoo, "we'll leave it for the present. I have
+something else to see about. Are you cold, Griselda?"
+
+"_Very_," she replied. "I would very much like to go back to bed,
+cuckoo, if you please; and there's plenty of room for you too, if you'd
+like to come in and get warm."
+
+"There are other ways of getting warm besides going to bed," said the
+cuckoo. "A nice brisk walk, for instance. I was going to ask you to come
+out into the garden with me."
+
+Griselda almost screamed.
+
+"Out into the garden! _Oh_, cuckoo!" she exclaimed, "how can you think
+of such a thing? Such a freezing cold night. Oh no, indeed, cuckoo, I
+couldn't possibly."
+
+"Very well, Griselda," said the cuckoo; "if you haven't yet learnt to
+trust me, there's no more to be said. Good-night."
+
+He flapped his wings, cried out "Cuckoo" once only, flew across the
+room, and almost before Griselda understood what he was doing, had
+disappeared.
+
+She hurried after him, stumbling against the furniture in her haste, and
+by the uncertain light. The door was not open, but the cuckoo had got
+through it--"by the keyhole, I dare say," thought Griselda; "he can
+'scrooge' himself up any way"--for a faint "Cuckoo" was to be heard on
+its other side. In a moment Griselda had opened it, and was speeding
+down the long passage in the dark, guided only by the voice from time to
+time heard before her, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+She forgot all about the cold, or rather, she did not feel it, though
+the floor was of uncarpeted old oak, whose hard, polished surface would
+have usually felt like ice to a child's soft, bare feet. It was a very
+long passage, and to-night, somehow, it seemed longer than ever. In
+fact, Griselda could have fancied she had been running along it for half
+a mile or more, when at last she was brought to a standstill by finding
+she could go no further. Where was she? She could not imagine! It must
+be a part of the house she had never explored in the daytime, she
+decided. In front of her was a little stair running downwards, and
+ending in a doorway. All this Griselda could see by a bright light that
+streamed in by the keyhole and through the chinks round the door--a
+light so brilliant that the little girl blinked her eyes, and for a
+moment felt quite dazzled and confused.
+
+"It came so suddenly," she said to herself; "some one must have lighted
+a lamp in there all at once. But it can't be a lamp, it's too bright for
+a lamp. It's more like the sun; but how ever could the sun be shining in
+a room in the middle of the night? What shall I do? Shall I open the
+door and peep in?"
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," came the answer, soft but clear, from the other side.
+
+"Can it be a trick of the cuckoo's to get me out into the garden?"
+thought Griselda; and for the first time since she had run out of her
+room a shiver of cold made her teeth chatter and her skin feel creepy.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," sounded again, nearer this time, it seemed to
+Griselda.
+
+"He's waiting for me. I _will_ trust him," she said resolutely. "He has
+always been good and kind, and it's horrid of me to think he's going to
+trick me."
+
+She ran down the little stair, she seized the handle of the door. It
+turned easily; the door opened--opened, and closed again noiselessly
+behind her, and what do you think she saw?
+
+"Shut your eyes for a minute, Griselda," said the cuckoo's voice beside
+her; "the light will dazzle you at first. Shut them, and I will brush
+them with a little daisy dew, to strengthen them."
+
+Griselda did as she was told. She felt the tip of the cuckoo's softest
+feather pass gently two or three times over her eyelids, and a delicious
+scent seemed immediately to float before her.
+
+"I didn't know _daisies_ had any scent," she remarked.
+
+"Perhaps you didn't. You forget, Griselda, that you have a great----"
+
+"Oh, please don't, cuckoo. Please, please don't, _dear_ cuckoo," she
+exclaimed, dancing about with her hands clasped in entreaty, but her
+eyes still firmly closed. "Don't say that, and I'll promise to believe
+whatever you tell me. And how soon may I open my eyes, please, cuckoo?"
+
+"Turn round slowly, three times. That will give the dew time to take
+effect," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one--two--three. There, now."
+
+Griselda opened her eyes.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+BUTTERFLY-LAND
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "I'd be a butterfly."
+
+
+Griselda opened her eyes.
+
+What did she see?
+
+The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyes
+saw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to your
+fancy. It was just a _delicious_ garden.
+
+There was a charming mixture of all that is needed to make a garden
+perfect--grass, velvety lawn rather; water, for a little brook ran
+tinkling in and out, playing bopeep among the bushes; trees, of course,
+and flowers, of course, flowers of every shade and shape. But all these
+beautiful things Griselda did not at first give as much attention to as
+they deserved; her eyes were so occupied with a quite unusual sight that
+met them.
+
+This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon; but
+butterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none of
+you ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers of
+them, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They were
+fluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them.
+
+Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on the
+lovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissed
+her poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warm
+embrace. Then she turned to her little friend.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you _so_ much. This _is_ fairyland, at
+last!"
+
+The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure of
+speech only, would it not? He shook his head gently.
+
+"No, Griselda," he said kindly; "this is only butterfly-land."
+
+"_Butterfly_-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment in
+her tone.
+
+"Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday,
+isn't it?"
+
+Griselda did not particularly like these allusions to "yesterday." She
+thought it would be as well to change the subject.
+
+"It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure,
+cuckoo, I'm _very_ much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may I
+run about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warm
+sunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes and
+fingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again.
+I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be a
+butterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about."
+
+She stopped at last, quite out of breath.
+
+"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions,
+you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look at
+everything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. You
+will make a great many mistakes if you are--you have made some already."
+
+"How?" said Griselda.
+
+"_Have_ the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them."
+
+Griselda watched.
+
+"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can't
+think what. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flying
+away something like bees gathering honey. _Butterflies_ don't gather
+honey, cuckoo?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."
+
+"What _do_ you mean?" said Griselda.
+
+"Come and see," said the cuckoo.
+
+He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through the
+prettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged in
+different colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing along
+their sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another in
+regular order--from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damask
+crimson; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grass
+forget-me-not to the rich warm tinge of the brilliant cornflower.
+_Every_ tint was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange to
+her, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see,
+had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as she
+had never done before.
+
+"How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Is
+it just to look pretty, or why?"
+
+"It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterflies
+know exactly where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painters
+want."
+
+"Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are the
+world-flower-painters?" asked Griselda.
+
+"Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo.
+"It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then."
+
+Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularly
+relishing the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and as
+she and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys, she saw that
+the butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little parties
+of twos and threes, and nibbled away, as she called it, at flowers of
+the same colour but different shades, till they had got what they
+wanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint of
+maize, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followed by
+No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing up the
+rear.
+
+Griselda gave a little sigh.
+
+"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy tone.
+
+"It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily.
+
+After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to the
+garden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out of
+which butterflies were incessantly flying--reminding Griselda again of
+bees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke again.
+
+"Come in," he said.
+
+Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in without
+knocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass of
+butterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while she
+saw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were all
+settled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was a
+tiny object about the size of a flattened-out pin's head, which he was
+most carefully painting with one of his tentacles, which, from time to
+time, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waiting
+patiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, who
+after a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away.
+
+"To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to read
+Griselda's thoughts.
+
+"But what _are_ they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly.
+
+"All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, and
+spring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months of
+summer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray ones
+now and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idle
+butterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go up
+to take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, and
+many a damaged petal they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though no
+one ever knows it."
+
+"_I_ know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idle
+butterflies again--never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers
+_here_, too? What a _fearful_ lot they must have to do!"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. They
+never fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the colours
+of your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of course
+they don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slight
+contemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the ugly
+things about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, to
+my thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsy way."
+
+"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" asked
+Griselda.
+
+"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you are
+asleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic stuff, you see,
+which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they are
+usually, Griselda, you couldn't even _see_ the petals the butterflies
+are painting now."
+
+"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."
+
+"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time to
+say more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!
+
+"Are you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.
+
+"Not so very," replied Griselda.
+
+"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don't
+know that you'd be much the better for dinner here."
+
+"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner?
+Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, of
+course--I don't think I should care to eat it alone."
+
+"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he was
+interrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall,
+and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. They
+fluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited about
+something, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.
+
+"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda.
+"They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us to a
+banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."
+
+"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dear
+me," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting,
+cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown.
+I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold."
+
+"Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights."
+
+He flew off, and was back almost immediately, followed by a whole flock
+of butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hitherto
+seen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow.
+They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were really
+going to be suffocated by them, but only for a moment. There seemed a
+great buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to work
+to _dress_ her. And how do you think they dressed her? With
+_themselves_! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverest
+way. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem of her little
+night-gown, making a thick "_ruche_," as it were; and then there came
+two or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round her
+waist they made the loveliest belt of mingled blue and yellow, and all
+over the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty white
+frills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselves
+into fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, rosettes--I
+cannot tell you what they did not imitate.
+
+Perhaps the prettiest ornament of all was the coronet or wreath they
+made of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair too
+with butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she moved
+about. No one would have known Griselda; she _looked_ like a fairy
+queen, or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what
+looked like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will
+understand, were only a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes
+were soleless.
+
+"Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blue
+and every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda,
+come and look at yourself."
+
+[Illustration: SHE PEERED IN WITH GREAT SATISFACTION]
+
+He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one of
+the tinkling brooks that were to be found everywhere about the garden,
+and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather;
+but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with great
+satisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over one
+shoulder, then over the other.
+
+"It _is_ lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking--how
+shall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?"
+
+"Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "the
+butterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't suppose
+you are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?"
+
+Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather
+"gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies could
+take care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sort
+of banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-looking
+plant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmost
+leaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat two
+magnificent butterflies. They were many times larger than any Griselda
+had yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small beside
+them, and they were _so_ beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed.
+You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintest
+movement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisite
+than the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by saying
+that they were like living rainbows.
+
+"Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper.
+
+"Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?"
+
+"I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do they
+never do anything but lie there in the sunshine?"
+
+"Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping at
+conclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things in
+butterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any other
+butterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others,
+as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all the
+world-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed on
+the finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But even
+now they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, and
+choose all the new colours."
+
+"Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be."
+
+Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificent
+wings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air.
+
+"Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone.
+
+"Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands."
+
+Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In a
+minute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majestically
+circling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda's little
+hands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering
+her fingers with their great dazzling wings.
+
+"You _do_ look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps and
+looking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast to
+begin, as it won't do for us to be late."
+
+The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away from
+Griselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of a
+beautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grew
+the large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for no
+sooner were they in their places than butterflies of every kind and
+colour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterflies
+small and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark;
+butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour--_every_ colour, and
+far, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.
+
+They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, and
+in another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared,
+carrying among them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a
+drop of liquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to
+the queen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then
+passed it on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were
+handed to them, which they again passed on.
+
+"What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not _eating_."
+
+"It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any other
+kind of food than a sniff of perfume; and as there are perfumes
+extracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far more
+flowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allow
+there is plenty of variety of dishes."
+
+"Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo,
+it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent on
+my pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my
+handkerchief here, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was
+under my pillow, and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter, for
+the hook scratched it once."
+
+"You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but not
+more. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy."
+
+But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all the
+petals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly,
+but there were such quantities of them--double quantities in honour of
+the guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her handkerchief into a tight
+little ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it,
+and then she kept sniffing at it impatiently, till at last the cuckoo
+asked her what was the matter.
+
+"I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else,
+cuckoo."
+
+"It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. "But see, Griselda, they
+are going to have an air-dance now."
+
+"What's that?" said Griselda.
+
+"Look, and you'll see," he replied.
+
+Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air,
+and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours.
+
+"Come up to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see them
+better."
+
+Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down on
+the butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings of
+butterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way,
+like ribbons of every hue plaiting themselves and then in an instant
+unplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselves
+in the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted and
+untwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies.
+
+"It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like those
+twisty-twirly dissolving views that papa took me to see once. It's
+_just_ like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all on
+purpose to please me?"
+
+"A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud three
+times, to show them you're pleased."
+
+Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one--all the butterflies rose up into the
+air in a cloud; clap number two--they all fluttered and twirled and
+buzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three--they
+all turned in Griselda's direction with a rush.
+
+"They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloud
+of butterflies, fluttering, _rushing_ down upon her.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she screamed, "they'll suffocate me. Oh, cuckoo!"
+
+"Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out the
+cuckoo.
+
+And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precious
+handkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry,
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+_Clap_--where were they all?
+
+Griselda opened her eyes--garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all had
+disappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door with
+the hot water.
+
+"Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning,
+missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up."
+
+"Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morning
+ages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute,
+Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What do
+you think of that?"
+
+"It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottle
+on your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?"
+
+"Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; "it's scent of my own, Dorcas.
+Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please give
+me my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr.
+Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as she was
+putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the blue
+butterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but I
+don't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know how
+hard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'll
+please the dear old cuckoo."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+MASTER PHIL
+
+[Illustration]
+
+      "Who comes from the world of flowers?
+    Daisy and crocus, and sea-blue bell,
+    And violet shrinking in dewy cell--
+    Sly cells that know the secrets of night,
+    When earth is bathed in fairy light--
+      Scarlet, and blue, and golden flowers."
+
+
+And so Mr. Kneebreeches had no reason to complain of his pupil that day.
+
+And Miss Grizzel congratulated herself more heartily than ever on her
+wise management of children.
+
+And Miss Tabitha repeated that Sister Grizzel might indeed congratulate
+herself.
+
+And Griselda became gradually more and more convinced that the only way
+as yet discovered of getting through hard tasks is to set to work and do
+them; also, that grumbling, as things are at present arranged in this
+world, does not _always_, nor I may say _often_, do good; furthermore,
+that an ill-tempered child is not, on the whole, likely to be as much
+loved as a good-tempered one; lastly, that if you wait long enough,
+winter will go and spring will come.
+
+For this was the case this year, after all! Spring had only been sleepy
+and lazy, and in such a case what could poor old winter do but fill the
+vacant post till she came? Why he should be so scolded and reviled for
+faithfully doing his best, as he often is, I really don't know. Not that
+all the ill words he gets have much effect on him--he comes again just
+as usual, whatever we say of or to him. I suppose his feelings have long
+ago been frozen up, or surely before this he would have taken
+offence--well for us that he has not done so!
+
+But when the spring did come at last this year, it would be impossible
+for me to tell you how Griselda enjoyed it. It was like new life to her
+as well as to the plants, and flowers, and birds, and insects. Hitherto,
+you see, she had been able to see very little of the outside of her
+aunt's house; and charming as the inside was, the outside, I must say,
+was still "charminger." There seemed no end to the little up-and-down
+paths and alleys, leading to rustic seats and quaint arbours; no limits
+to the little pine-wood, down into which led the dearest little
+zig-zaggy path you ever saw, all bordered with snow-drops and primroses
+and violets, and later on with periwinkles, and wood anemones, and those
+bright, starry, white flowers, whose name no two people agree about.
+
+This wood-path was the place, I think, which Griselda loved the best.
+The bowling-green was certainly very delightful, and so was the terrace
+where the famous roses grew; but lovely as the roses were (I am speaking
+just now, of course, of later on in the summer, when they were all in
+bloom), Griselda could not enjoy them as much as the wild-flowers, for
+she was forbidden to gather or touch them, except with her funny round
+nose!
+
+"You may _scent_ them, my dear," said Miss Grizzel, who was of opinion
+that smell was not a pretty word; "but I cannot allow anything more."
+
+And Griselda did "scent" them, I assure you. She burrowed her whole rosy
+face in the big ones; but gently, for she did not want to spoil them,
+both for her aunt's sake, and because, too, she had a greater regard for
+flowers now that she knew the secret of how they were painted, and what
+a great deal of trouble the butterflies take about them.
+
+But after a while one grows tired of "scenting" roses; and even the
+trying to walk straight across the bowling-green with her eyes shut,
+from the arbour at one side to the arbour exactly like it at the other,
+grew stupid, though no doubt it would have been capital fun with a
+companion to applaud or criticize.
+
+So the wood-path became Griselda's favourite haunt. As the summer grew
+on, she began to long more than ever for a companion--not so much for
+play, as for some one to play with. She had lessons, of course, just as
+many as in the winter; but with the long days, there seemed to come a
+quite unaccountable increase of play-time, and Griselda sometimes found
+it hang heavy on her hands. She had not seen or heard anything of the
+cuckoo either, save, of course, in his "official capacity" of
+time-teller, for a very long time.
+
+"I suppose," she thought, "he thinks I don't need amusing, now that the
+fine days are come and I can play in the garden; and certainly, if I had
+_any one_ to play with, the garden would be perfectly lovely."
+
+But, failing companions, she did the best she could for herself, and
+this was why she loved the path down into the wood so much. There was a
+sort of mystery about it; it might have been the path leading to the
+cottage of Red-Ridinghood's grandmother, or a path leading to fairyland
+itself. There were all kinds of queer, nice, funny noises to be heard
+there--in one part of it especially, where Griselda made herself a seat
+of some moss-grown stones, and where she came so often that she got to
+know all the little flowers growing close round about, and even the
+particular birds whose nests were hard by.
+
+She used to sit there and _fancy_--fancy that she heard the wood-elves
+chattering under their breath, or the little underground gnomes and
+kobolds hammering at their fairy forges. And the tinkling of the brook
+in the distance sounded like the enchanted bells round the necks of the
+fairy kine, who are sent out to pasture sometimes on the upper world
+hillsides. For Griselda's head was crammed full, perfectly full, of
+fairy lore; and the mandarins' country, and butterfly-land, were quite
+as real to her as the every-day world about her.
+
+But all this time she was not forgotten by the cuckoo, as you will see.
+
+One day she was sitting in her favourite nest, feeling, notwithstanding
+the sunshine, and the flowers, and the soft sweet air, and the pleasant
+sounds all about, rather dull and lonely. For though it was only May, it
+was really quite a hot day, and Griselda had been all the morning at her
+lessons, and had tried very hard, and done them very well, and now she
+felt as if she deserved some reward. Suddenly in the distance, she heard
+a well-known sound, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
+
+"Can that be the cuckoo?" she said to herself; and in a moment she felt
+sure that it must be. For, for some reason that I do not know enough
+about the habits of real "flesh and blood" cuckoos to explain, that bird
+was not known in the neighbourhood where Griselda's aunts lived. Some
+twenty miles or so further south it was heard regularly, but all this
+spring Griselda had never caught the sound of its familiar note, and she
+now remembered hearing it never came to these parts.
+
+So, "it must be my cuckoo," she said to herself. "He must be coming out
+to speak to me. How funny! I have never seen him by daylight."
+
+She listened. Yes, again there it was, "Cuckoo, cuckoo," as plain as
+possible, and nearer than before.
+
+"Cuckoo," cried Griselda, "do come and talk to me. It's such a long time
+since I have seen you, and I have nobody to play with."
+
+But there was no answer. Griselda held her breath to listen, but there
+was nothing to be heard.
+
+"Unkind cuckoo!" she exclaimed. "He is tricking me, I do believe; and
+to-day too, just when I was so dull and lonely."
+
+The tears came into her eyes, and she was beginning to think herself
+very badly used, when suddenly a rustling in the bushes beside her made
+her turn round, more than half expecting to see the cuckoo himself. But
+it was not he. The rustling went on for a minute or two without anything
+making its appearance, for the bushes were pretty thick just there, and
+any one scrambling up from the pine-wood below would have had rather
+hard work to get through, and indeed for a very big person such a feat
+would have been altogether impossible.
+
+It was not a very big person, however, who was causing all the rustling,
+and crunching of branches, and general commotion, which now absorbed
+Griselda's attention. She sat watching for another minute in perfect
+stillness, afraid of startling by the slightest movement the squirrel or
+rabbit or creature of some kind which she expected to see. At last--was
+that a squirrel or rabbit--that rosy, round face, with shaggy, fair hair
+falling over the eager blue eyes, and a general look of breathlessness
+and over-heatedness and determination?
+
+A squirrel or a rabbit! No, indeed, but a very sturdy, very merry, very
+ragged little boy.
+
+"Where are that cuckoo? Does _you_ know?" were the first words he
+uttered, as soon as he had fairly shaken himself, though not by any
+means all his clothes, free of the bushes (for ever so many pieces of
+jacket and knickerbockers, not to speak of one boot and half his hat,
+had been left behind on the way), and found breath to say something.
+
+Griselda stared at him for a moment without speaking, she was so
+astonished. It was months since she had spoken to a child, almost since
+she had seen one, and about children younger than herself she knew very
+little at any time, being the baby of the family at home, you see, and
+having only big brothers older than herself for play-fellows.
+
+"Who are you?" she said at last. "What's your name, and what do you
+want?"
+
+"My name's Master Phil, and I want that cuckoo," answered the little
+boy. "He camed up this way. I'm sure he did, for he called me all the
+way."
+
+"He's not here," said Griselda, shaking her head; "and this is my aunts'
+garden. No one is allowed to come here but friends of theirs. You had
+better go home; and you have torn your clothes so."
+
+"This aren't a garden," replied the little fellow undauntedly, looking
+round him; "this are a wood. There are blue-bells and primroses here,
+and that shows it aren't a garden--not anybody's garden, I mean, with
+walls round, for nobody to come in."
+
+"But it _is_," said Griselda, getting rather vexed. "If it isn't a
+garden it's _grounds_, private grounds, and nobody should come without
+leave. This path leads down to the wood, and there's a door in the wall
+at the bottom to get into the lane. You may go down that way, little
+boy. No one comes scrambling up the way you did."
+
+"But I want to find the cuckoo," said the little boy. "I do so want to
+find the cuckoo."
+
+His voice sounded almost as if he were going to cry, and his pretty,
+hot, flushed face puckered up. Griselda's heart smote her; she looked at
+him more carefully. He was such a very little boy, after all; she did
+not like to be cross to him.
+
+"How old are you?" she asked.
+
+"Five and a bit. I had a birthday after the summer, and if I'm good,
+nurse says perhaps I'll have one after next summer too. Do you ever have
+birthdays?" he went on, peering up at Griselda. "Nurse says she used to
+when she was young, but she never has any now."
+
+"_Have_ you a nurse?" asked Griselda, rather surprised; for, to tell the
+truth, from "Master Phil's" appearance, she had not felt at all sure
+what _sort_ of little boy he was, or rather what sort of people he
+belonged to.
+
+"Of course I have a nurse, and a mother too," said the little boy,
+opening wide his eyes in surprise at the question. "Haven't you? Perhaps
+you're too big, though. People leave off having nurses and mothers when
+they're big, don't they? Just like birthdays. But _I_ won't. I won't
+never leave off having a mother, any way. I don't care so much about
+nurse and birthdays, not _kite_ so much. Did you care when you had to
+leave off, when you got too big?"
+
+"I hadn't to leave off because I got big," said Griselda sadly. "I left
+off when I was much littler than you," she went on, unconsciously
+speaking as Phil would best understand her. "My mother died."
+
+"I'm werry sorry," said Phil; and the way in which he said it quite
+overcame Griselda's unfriendliness. "But perhaps you've a nice nurse. My
+nurse is rather nice; but she _will_ 'cold me to-day, won't she?" he
+added, laughing, pointing to the terrible rents in his garments. "These
+are my very oldestest things; that's a good thing, isn't it? Nurse says
+I don't look like Master Phil in these, but when I have on my blue
+welpet, then I look like Master Phil. I shall have my blue welpet when
+mother comes."
+
+"Is your mother away?" said Griselda.
+
+"Oh yes, she's been away a long time; so nurse came here to take care of
+me at the farm-house, you know. Mother was ill, but she's better now,
+and some day she'll come too."
+
+"Do you like being at the farm-house? Have you anybody to play with?"
+said Griselda.
+
+Phil shook his curly head. "I never have anybody to play with," he said.
+"I'd like to play with you if you're not too big. And do you think you
+could help me to find the cuckoo?" he added insinuatingly.
+
+"What do you know about the cuckoo?" said Griselda.
+
+[Illustration: "BUT I MAY SEE YOU AGAIN," SAID PHIL]
+
+"He called me," said Phil, "he called me lots of times; and to-day nurse
+was busy, so I thought I'd come. And do you know," he added
+mysteriously, "I do believe the cuckoo's a fairy, and when I find him
+I'm going to ask him to show me the way to fairyland."
+
+"He says we must all find the way ourselves," said Griselda, quite
+forgetting to whom she was speaking.
+
+"_Does_ he?" cried Phil, in great excitement. "Do you know him, then?
+and have you asked him? Oh, do tell me."
+
+Griselda recollected herself. "You couldn't understand," she said. "Some
+day perhaps I'll tell you--I mean if ever I see you again."
+
+"But I may see you again," said Phil, settling himself down comfortably
+beside Griselda on her mossy stone. "You'll let me come, won't you? I
+like to talk about fairies, and nurse doesn't understand. And if the
+cuckoo knows you, perhaps that's why he called me to come to play with
+you."
+
+"How did he call you?" asked Griselda.
+
+"First," said Phil gravely, "it was in the night. I was asleep, and I
+had been wishing I had somebody to play with, and then I d'eamed of the
+cuckoo--such a nice d'eam. And when I woke up I heard him calling me,
+and I wasn't d'eaming then. And then when I was in the field he called
+me, but I _couldn't_ find him, and nurse said 'Nonsense.' And to-day he
+called me again, so I camed up through the bushes. And mayn't I come
+again? Perhaps if we both tried together we could find the way to
+fairyland. Do you think we could?"
+
+"I don't know," said Griselda, dreamily. "There's a great deal to learn
+first, the cuckoo says."
+
+"Have you learnt a great deal?" (he called it "a gate deal") asked Phil,
+looking up at Griselda with increased respect. "_I_ don't know scarcely
+nothing. Mother was ill such a long time before she went away, but I
+know she wanted me to learn to read books. But nurse is too old to teach
+me."
+
+"Shall I teach you?" said Griselda. "I can bring some of my old books
+and teach you here after I have done my own lessons."
+
+"And then mother _would_ be surprised when she comes back," said Master
+Phil, clapping his hands. "Oh, _do_. And when I've learnt to read a
+great deal, do you think the cuckoo would show us the way to fairyland?"
+
+"I don't think it was that sort of learning he meant," said Griselda.
+"But I dare say that would help. I _think_," she went on, lowering her
+voice a little, and looking down gravely into Phil's earnest eyes, "I
+_think_ he means mostly learning to be very good--very, _very_ good, you
+know."
+
+"Gooder than you?" said Phil.
+
+"Oh dear, yes; lots and lots gooder than me," replied Griselda.
+
+"_I_ think you're very good," observed Phil, in a parenthesis. Then he
+went on with his cross-questioning.
+
+"Gooder than mother?"
+
+"I don't know your mother, so how can I tell how good she is?" said
+Griselda.
+
+"_I_ can tell you," said Phil, importantly. "She is just as good as--as
+good as--as good as _good_. That's what she is."
+
+"You mean she couldn't be better," said Griselda, smiling.
+
+"Yes, that'll do, if you like. Would that be good enough for us to be,
+do you think?"
+
+"We must ask the cuckoo," said Griselda. "But I'm sure it would be a
+good thing for you to learn to read. You must ask your nurse to let you
+come here every afternoon that it's fine, and I'll ask my aunt."
+
+"I needn't ask nurse," said Phil composedly; "she'll never know where I
+am, and I needn't tell her. She doesn't care what I do, except tearing
+my clothes; and when she scolds me, _I_ don't care."
+
+"_That_ isn't good, Phil," said Griselda gravely. "You'll never be as
+good as good if you speak like that."
+
+"What should I say, then? Tell me," said the little boy submissively.
+
+"You should ask nurse to let you come to play with me, and tell her I'm
+much bigger than you, and I won't let you tear your clothes. And you
+should tell her you're very sorry you've torn them to-day."
+
+"Very well," said Phil, "I'll say that. But, oh see!" he exclaimed,
+darting off, "there's a field mouse! If only I could catch him!"
+
+Of course he couldn't catch him, nor could Griselda either; very ready,
+though, she was to do her best. But it was great fun all the same, and
+the children laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves tremendously. And
+when they were tired they sat down again and gathered flowers for
+nosegays, and Griselda was surprised to find how clever Phil was about
+it. He was much quicker than she at spying out the prettiest blossoms,
+however hidden behind tree, or stone, or shrub. And he told her of all
+the best places for flowers near by, and where grew the largest
+primroses and the sweetest violets, in a way that astonished her.
+
+"You're such a little boy," she said; "how do you know so much about
+flowers?"
+
+"I've had no one else to play with," he said innocently. "And then, you
+know, the fairies are so fond of them."
+
+When Griselda thought it was time to go home, she led little Phil down
+the wood-path, and through the door in the wall opening on to the lane.
+
+"Now you can find your way home without scrambling through any more
+bushes, can't you, Master Phil?" she said.
+
+"Yes, thank you, and I'll come again to that place to-morrow afternoon,
+shall I?" asked Phil. "I'll know when--after I've had my dinner and
+raced three times round the big field, then it'll be time. That's how it
+was to-day."
+
+"I should think it would do if you _walked_ three times--or twice if you
+like--round the field. It isn't a good thing to race just when you've
+had your dinner," observed Griselda sagely. "And you mustn't try to come
+if it isn't fine, for my aunts won't let me go out if it rains even the
+tiniest bit. And of course you must ask your nurse's leave."
+
+"Very well," said little Phil as he trotted off. "I'll try to remember
+all those things. I'm so glad you'll play with me again; and if you see
+the cuckoo, please thank him."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+UP AND DOWN THE CHIMNEY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "_Helper._ Well, but if it was all dream, it would be the same as
+    if it was all real, would it not?
+
+    _Keeper._ Yes, I see. I mean, Sir, I do _not_ see."--_A Liliput
+    Revel._
+
+
+_Not_ having "just had her dinner," and feeling very much inclined for
+her tea, Griselda ran home at a great rate.
+
+She felt, too, in such good spirits; it had been so delightful to have a
+companion in her play.
+
+"What a good thing it was I didn't make Phil run away before I found out
+what a nice little boy he was," she said to herself. "I must look out my
+old reading books to-night. I shall so like teaching him, poor little
+boy, and the cuckoo will be pleased at my doing something useful, I'm
+sure."
+
+Tea was quite ready, in fact waiting for her, when she came in. This was
+a meal she always had by herself, brought up on a tray to Dorcas's
+little sitting-room, where Dorcas waited upon her. And sometimes when
+Griselda was in a particularly good humour she would beg Dorcas to sit
+down and have a cup of tea with her--a liberty the old servant was far
+too dignified and respectful to have thought of taking, unless specially
+requested to do so.
+
+This evening, as you know, Griselda was in a very particularly good
+humour, and besides this, so very full of her adventures, that she would
+have been glad of an even less sympathising listener than Dorcas was
+likely to be.
+
+"Sit down, Dorcas, and have some more tea, do," she said coaxingly. "It
+looks ever so much more comfortable, and I'm sure you could eat a
+little more if you tried, whether you've had your tea in the kitchen or
+not. I'm _fearfully_ hungry, I can tell you. You'll have to cut a whole
+lot more bread and butter and not 'ladies' slices' either."
+
+"How your tongue does go, to be sure, Miss Griselda," said Dorcas,
+smiling, as she seated herself on the chair Griselda had drawn in for
+her.
+
+"And why shouldn't it?" said Griselda saucily. "It doesn't do it any
+harm. But oh, Dorcas, I've had such fun this afternoon--really, you
+couldn't guess what I've been doing."
+
+"Very likely not, missie," said Dorcas.
+
+"But you might try to guess. Oh no, I don't think you need--guessing
+takes such a time, and I want to tell you. Just fancy, Dorcas, I've been
+playing with a little boy in the wood."
+
+"Playing with a little boy, Miss Griselda!" exclaimed Dorcas, aghast.
+
+"Yes, and he's coming again to-morrow, and the day after, and every
+day, I dare say," said Griselda. "He _is_ such a nice little boy."
+
+"But, missie," began Dorcas.
+
+"Well? What's the matter? You needn't look like that--as if I had done
+something naughty," said Griselda sharply.
+
+"But you'll tell your aunt, missie?"
+
+"Of course," said Griselda, looking up fearlessly into Dorcas's face
+with her bright grey eyes. "Of course; why shouldn't I? I must ask her
+to give the little boy leave to come into _our_ grounds; and I told the
+little boy to be sure to tell his nurse, who takes care of him, about
+his playing with me."
+
+"His nurse," repeated Dorcas, in a tone of some relief. "Then he must be
+quite a little boy, perhaps Miss Grizzel would not object so much in
+that case."
+
+"Why should she object at all? She might know I wouldn't want to play
+with a naughty rude boy," said Griselda.
+
+"She thinks all boys rude and naughty, I'm afraid, missie," said
+Dorcas. "All, that is to say, excepting your dear papa. But then, of
+course, she had the bringing up of _him_ in her own way from the
+beginning."
+
+"Well, I'll ask her, any way," said Griselda, "and if she says I'm not
+to play with him, I shall think--I know what I shall _think_ of Aunt
+Grizzel, whether I _say_ it or not."
+
+And the old look of rebellion and discontent settled down again on her
+rosy face.
+
+"Be careful, missie, now do, there's a dear good girl," said Dorcas
+anxiously, an hour later, when Griselda, dressed as usual in her little
+white muslin frock, was ready to join her aunts at dessert.
+
+But Griselda would not condescend to make any reply.
+
+"Aunt Grizzel," she said suddenly, when she had eaten an orange and
+three biscuits and drunk half a glass of home-made elder-berry wine,
+"Aunt Grizzel, when I was out in the garden to-day--down the wood-path,
+I mean--I met a little boy, and he played with me, and I want to know
+if he may come every day to play with me."
+
+Griselda knew she was not making her request in a very amiable or
+becoming manner; she knew, indeed, that she was making it in such a way
+as was almost certain to lead to its being refused; and yet, though she
+was really so very, very anxious to get leave to play with little Phil,
+she took a sort of spiteful pleasure in injuring her own cause.
+
+How _foolish_ ill-temper makes us! Griselda had allowed herself to get
+so angry at the _thought_ of being thwarted that had her aunt looked up
+quietly and said at once, "Oh yes, you may have the little boy to play
+with you whenever you like," she would really, in a strange distorted
+sort of way, have been _disappointed_.
+
+But, of course, Miss Grizzel made no such reply. Nothing less than a
+miracle could have made her answer Griselda otherwise than as she did.
+Like Dorcas, for an instant, she was utterly "flabbergasted," if you
+know what that means. For she was really quite an old lady, you know,
+and sensible as she was, things upset her much more easily than when she
+was younger.
+
+Naughty Griselda saw her uneasiness, and enjoyed it.
+
+"Playing with a boy!" exclaimed Miss Grizzel. "A boy in my grounds, and
+you, my niece, to have played with him!"
+
+"Yes," said Griselda coolly, "and I want to play with him again."
+
+"Griselda," said her aunt, "I am too astonished to say more at present.
+Go to bed."
+
+"Why should I go to bed? It is not my bedtime," cried Griselda, blazing
+up. "What have I done to be sent to bed as if I were in disgrace?"
+
+"Go to bed," repeated Miss Grizzel. "I will speak to you to-morrow."
+
+"You are very unfair and unjust," said Griselda, starting up from her
+chair. "That's all the good of being honest and telling everything. I
+might have played with the little boy every day for a month and you
+would never have known, if I hadn't told you."
+
+She banged across the room as she spoke, and out at the door, slamming
+it behind her rudely. Then upstairs like a whirlwind; but when she got
+to her own room, she sat down on the floor and burst into tears, and
+when Dorcas came up, nearly half an hour later, she was still in the
+same place, crouched up in a little heap, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"Oh, missie, missie," said Dorcas, "it's just what I was afraid of!"
+
+As Griselda rushed out of the room Miss Grizzel leant back in her chair
+and sighed deeply.
+
+"Already," she said faintly. "She was never so violent before. Can one
+afternoon's companionship with rudeness have already contaminated her?
+Already, Tabitha--can it be so?"
+
+"Already," said Miss Tabitha, softly shaking her head, which somehow
+made her look wonderfully like an old cat, for she felt cold of an
+evening and usually wore a very fine woolly shawl of a delicate grey
+shade, and the borders of her cap and the ruffles round her throat and
+wrists were all of fluffy, downy white--"already," she said.
+
+"Yet," said Miss Grizzel, recovering herself a little, "it is true what
+the child said. She might have deceived us. Have I been hard upon her,
+Sister Tabitha?"
+
+"Hard upon her! Sister Grizzel," said Miss Tabitha with more energy than
+usual; "no, certainly not. For once, Sister Grizzel, I disagree with
+you. Hard upon her! Certainly not."
+
+But Miss Grizzel did not feel happy.
+
+When she went up to her own room at night she was surprised to find
+Dorcas waiting for her, instead of the younger maid.
+
+"I thought you would not mind having me, instead of Martha, to-night,
+ma'am," she said, "for I did so want to speak to you about Miss
+Griselda. The poor, dear young lady has gone to bed so very unhappy."
+
+"But do you know what she has done, Dorcas?" said Miss Grizzel.
+"Admitted a _boy_, a rude, common, impertinent _boy_, into my precincts,
+and played with him--with a _boy_, Dorcas."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," said Dorcas. "I know all about it, ma'am. Miss Griselda
+has told me all. But if you would allow me to give an opinion, it isn't
+quite so bad. He's quite a little boy, ma'am--between five and six--only
+just about the age Miss Griselda's dear papa was when he first came to
+us, and, by all I can hear, quite a little gentleman."
+
+"A little gentleman," repeated Miss Grizzel, "and not six years old!
+That is less objectionable than I expected. What is his name, as you
+know so much, Dorcas?"
+
+"Master Phil," replied Dorcas. "That is what he told Miss Griselda, and
+she never thought to ask him more. But I'll tell you how we could get to
+hear more about him, I think, ma'am. From what Miss Griselda says, I
+believe he is staying at Mr. Crouch's farm, and that, you know, ma'am,
+belongs to my Lady Lavander, though it is a good way from Merrybrow
+Hall. My lady is pretty sure to know about the child, for she knows all
+that goes on among her tenants, and I remember hearing that a little
+gentleman and his nurse had come to Mr. Crouch's to lodge for six
+months."
+
+Miss Grizzel listened attentively.
+
+"Thank you, Dorcas," she said, when the old servant had left off
+speaking. "You have behaved with your usual discretion. I shall drive
+over to Merrybrow to-morrow, and make inquiry. And you may tell Miss
+Griselda in the morning what I purpose doing; but tell her also that, as
+a punishment for her rudeness and ill-temper, she must have breakfast in
+her own room to-morrow, and not see me till I send for her. Had she
+restrained her temper and explained the matter, all this distress might
+have been saved."
+
+Dorcas did not wait till "to-morrow morning"; she could not bear to
+think of Griselda's unhappiness. From her mistress's room she went
+straight to the little girl's, going in very softly, so as not to
+disturb her should she be sleeping.
+
+"Are you awake, missie?" she said gently.
+
+Griselda started up.
+
+"Yes," she exclaimed. "Is it you, cuckoo? I'm quite awake."
+
+"Bless the child," said Dorcas to herself, "how her head does run on
+Miss Sybilla's cuckoo. It's really wonderful. There's more in such
+things than some people think."
+
+But aloud she only replied--
+
+"It's Dorcas, missie. No fairy, only old Dorcas come to comfort you a
+bit. Listen, missie. Your auntie is going over to Merrybrow Hall
+to-morrow to inquire about this little Master Phil from my Lady
+Lavander, for we think it's at one of her ladyship's farms that he and
+his nurse are staying, and if she hears that he's a nice-mannered little
+gentleman, and comes of good parents--why, missie, there's no saying
+but that you'll get leave to play with him as much as you like."
+
+"But not to-morrow, Dorcas," said Griselda. "Aunt Grizzel never goes to
+Merrybrow till the afternoon. She won't be back in time for me to play
+with Phil to-morrow."
+
+"No, but next day, perhaps," said Dorcas.
+
+"Oh, but that won't do," said Griselda, beginning to cry again. "Poor
+little Phil will be coming up to the wood-path _to-morrow_, and if he
+doesn't find me, he'll be _so_ unhappy--perhaps he'll never come again
+if I don't meet him to-morrow."
+
+Dorcas saw that the little girl was worn out and excited, and not yet
+inclined to take a reasonable view of things.
+
+"Go to sleep, missie," she said kindly, "and don't think anything more
+about it till to-morrow. It'll be all right, you'll see."
+
+Her patience touched Griselda.
+
+"You are very kind, Dorcas," she said. "I don't mean to be cross to
+_you_; but I can't bear to think of poor little Phil. Perhaps he'll sit
+down on my mossy stone and cry. Poor little Phil!"
+
+But notwithstanding her distress, when Dorcas had left her she did feel
+her heart a little lighter, and somehow or other before long she fell
+asleep.
+
+When she awoke it seemed to be suddenly, and she had the feeling that
+something had disturbed her. She lay for a minute or two perfectly
+still--listening. Yes; there it was--the soft, faint rustle in the air
+that she knew so well. It seemed as if something was moving away from
+her.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said gently, "is that you?"
+
+A moment's pause, then came the answer--the pretty greeting she
+expected.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," soft and musical. Then the cuckoo spoke.
+
+"Well, Griselda" he said, "and how are you? It's a good while since we
+have had any fun together."
+
+"That's not _my_ fault," said Griselda sharply. She was not yet feeling
+quite as amiable as might have been desired, you see. "That's
+_certainly_ not my fault," she repeated.
+
+"I never said it was," replied the cuckoo. "Why will you jump at
+conclusions so? It's a very bad habit, for very often you jump _over_
+them, you see, and go too far. One should always _walk_ up to
+conclusions, very slowly and evenly, right foot first, then left, one
+with another--that's the way to get where you want to go, and feel sure
+of your ground. Do you see?"
+
+"I don't know whether I do or not, and I'm not going to speak to you if
+you go on at me like that. You might see I don't want to be lectured
+when I am so unhappy."
+
+"What are you unhappy about?"
+
+"About Phil, of course. I won't tell you, for I believe you know," said
+Griselda. "Wasn't it you that sent him to play with me? I was so
+pleased, and I thought it was very kind of you; but it's all spoilt
+now."
+
+"But I heard Dorcas saying that your aunt is going over to consult my
+Lady Lavander about it," said the cuckoo. "It'll be all right; you
+needn't be in such low spirits about nothing."
+
+"Were you in the room _then_?" said Griselda. "How funny you are,
+cuckoo. But it isn't all right. Don't you see, poor little Phil will be
+coming up the wood-path to-morrow afternoon to meet me, and I won't be
+there! I can't bear to think of it."
+
+"Is that all?" said the cuckoo. "It really is extraordinary how some
+people make troubles out of nothing! We can easily tell Phil not to come
+till the day after. Come along."
+
+"Come along," repeated Griselda; "what do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, I forgot," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Put out your
+hand. There, do you feel me?"
+
+"Yes," said Griselda, stroking gently the soft feathers which seemed to
+be close under her hand. "Yes, I feel you."
+
+"Well, then," said the cuckoo, "put your arms round my neck, and hold me
+firm. I'll lift you up."
+
+"How _can_ you talk such nonsense, cuckoo?" said Griselda. "Why, one of
+my little fingers would clasp your neck. How can I put my arms round
+it?"
+
+"Try," said the cuckoo.
+
+Somehow Griselda had to try.
+
+She held out her arms in the cuckoo's direction, as if she expected his
+neck to be about the size of a Shetland pony's, or a large Newfoundland
+dog's; and, to her astonishment, so it was! A nice, comfortable,
+feathery neck it felt--so soft that she could not help laying her head
+down upon it, and nestling in the downy cushion.
+
+"That's right," said the cuckoo.
+
+Then he seemed to give a little spring, and Griselda felt herself
+altogether lifted on to his back. She lay there as comfortably as
+possible--it felt so firm as well as soft. Up he flew a little way--then
+stopped short.
+
+"Are you all right?" he inquired. "You're not afraid of falling off?"
+
+"Oh no," said Griselda; "not a bit."
+
+"You needn't be," said the cuckoo, "for you couldn't if you tried. I'm
+going on, then."
+
+"Where to?" said Griselda.
+
+"Up the chimney first," said the cuckoo.
+
+"But there'll never be room," said Griselda. "I might _perhaps_ crawl up
+like a sweep, hands and knees, you know, like going up a ladder. But
+stretched out like this--it's just as if I were lying on a sofa--I
+_couldn't_ go up the chimney."
+
+"Couldn't you?" said the cuckoo. "We'll see. _I_ intend to go, any way,
+and to take you with me. Shut your eyes--one, two, three--here
+goes--we'll be up the chimney before you know."
+
+It was quite true. Griselda shut her eyes tight. She felt nothing but a
+pleasant sort of rush. Then she heard the cuckoo's voice, saying--
+
+"Well, wasn't that well done? Open your eyes and look about you."
+
+Griselda did so. Where were they?
+
+They were floating about above the top of the house, which Griselda saw
+down below them, looking dark and vast. She felt confused and
+bewildered.
+
+"Cuckoo," she said, "I don't understand. Is it I that have grown little,
+or you that have grown big?"
+
+"Whichever you please," said the cuckoo. "You have forgotten. I told you
+long ago it is all a matter of fancy."
+
+"Yes, if everything grew little _together_," persisted Griselda; "but it
+isn't everything. It's just you or me, or both of us. No, it can't be
+both of us. And I don't think it can be me, for if any of me had grown
+little all would, and my eyes haven't grown little, for everything looks
+as big as usual, only _you_ a great deal bigger. My eyes can't have
+grown bigger without the rest of me, surely, for the moon looks just the
+same. And I must have grown little, or else we couldn't have got up the
+chimney. Oh, cuckoo, you have put all my thinking into such a muddle!"
+
+"Never mind," said the cuckoo. "It'll show you how little consequence
+big and little are of. Make yourself comfortable all the same. Are you
+all right? Shut your eyes if you like. I'm going pretty fast."
+
+"Where to?" said Griselda.
+
+"To Phil, of course," said the cuckoo. "What a bad memory you have! Are
+you comfortable?"
+
+"_Very_, thank you," replied Griselda, giving the cuckoo's neck an
+affectionate hug as she spoke.
+
+"That'll do, thank you. Don't throttle me, if it's quite the same to
+you," said the cuckoo. "Here goes--one, two, three," and off he flew
+again.
+
+Griselda shut her eyes and lay still. It was delicious--the gliding, yet
+darting motion, like nothing she had ever felt before. It did not make
+her the least giddy, either; but a slightly sleepy feeling came over
+her. She felt no inclination to open her eyes; and, indeed, at the rate
+they were going, she could have distinguished very little had she done
+so.
+
+Suddenly the feeling in the air about her changed. For an instant it
+felt more _rushy_ than before, and there was a queer, dull sound in her
+ears. Then she felt that the cuckoo had stopped.
+
+"Where are we?" she asked.
+
+"We've just come _down_ a chimney again," said the cuckoo. "Open your
+eyes and clamber down off my back, but don't speak loud, or you'll waken
+him, and that wouldn't do. There you are--the moonlight's coming in
+nicely at the window--you can see your way."
+
+Griselda found herself in a little bed-room, quite a tiny one, and by
+the look of the simple furniture and the latticed window, she saw that
+she was not in a grand house. But everything looked very neat and nice,
+and on a little bed in one corner lay a lovely sleeping child. It was
+Phil! He looked so pretty asleep--his shaggy curls all tumbling about,
+his rosy mouth half open as if smiling, one little hand tossed over his
+head, the other tight clasping a little basket which he had insisted on
+taking to bed with him, meaning as soon as he was dressed the next
+morning to run out and fill it with flowers for the little girl he had
+made friends with.
+
+Griselda stepped up to the side of the bed on tiptoe. The cuckoo had
+disappeared, but Griselda heard his voice. It seemed to come from a
+little way up the chimney.
+
+"Don't wake him," said the cuckoo, "but whisper what you want to say
+into his ear, as soon as I have called him. He'll understand; he's
+accustomed to my ways."
+
+Then came the old note, soft and musical as ever--
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo. Listen, Phil," said the cuckoo, and without
+opening his eyes a change passed over the little boy's face. Griselda
+could see that he was listening to hear her message.
+
+"He thinks he's dreaming, I suppose," she said to herself with a smile.
+Then she whispered softly--
+
+"Phil, dear, don't come to play with me to-morrow, for I can't come. But
+come the day after. I'll be at the wood-path then."
+
+"Welly well," murmured Phil. Then he put out his two arms towards
+Griselda, all without opening his eyes, and she, bending down, kissed
+him softly.
+
+"Phil's so sleepy," he whispered, like a baby almost. Then he turned
+over and went to sleep more soundly than before.
+
+"That'll do," said the cuckoo. "Come along, Griselda."
+
+Griselda obediently made her way to the place whence the cuckoo's voice
+seemed to come.
+
+"Shut your eyes and put your arms round my neck again," said the cuckoo.
+
+She did not hesitate this time. It all happened just as before. There
+came the same sort of rushy sound; then the cuckoo stopped, and Griselda
+opened her eyes.
+
+They were up in the air again--a good way up, too, for some grand old
+elms that stood beside the farmhouse were gently waving their topmost
+branches a yard or two from where the cuckoo was poising himself and
+Griselda.
+
+"Where shall we go to now?" he said. "Or would you rather go home? Are
+you tired?"
+
+"Tired!" exclaimed Griselda. "I should rather think not. How could I be
+tired, cuckoo?"
+
+"Very well, don't excite yourself about nothing, whatever you do," said
+the cuckoo. "Say where you'd like to go."
+
+"How can I?" said Griselda. "You know far more nice places than I do."
+
+"You don't care to go back to the mandarins, or the butterflies, I
+suppose?" asked the cuckoo.
+
+"No, thank you," said Griselda; "I'd like something new. And I'm not
+sure that I care for seeing any more countries of that kind, unless you
+could take me to the _real_ fairyland."
+
+"_I_ can't do that, you know," said the cuckoo.
+
+Just then a faint "soughing" sound among the branches suggested another
+idea to Griselda.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed, "take me to the sea. It's _such_ a time since I
+saw the sea. I can fancy I hear it; do take me to see it."
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "That after supper time has come,
+      And silver dews the meadow steep,
+    And all is silent in the home,
+      And even nurses are asleep,
+    That be it late, or be it soon,
+    Upon this lovely night in June
+    They both will step into the moon."
+
+
+"Very well," said the cuckoo. "You would like to look about you a little
+on the way, perhaps, Griselda, as we shall not be going down chimneys,
+or anything of that kind just at present."
+
+"Yes," said Griselda. "I think I should. I'm rather tired of shutting
+my eyes, and I'm getting quite accustomed to flying about with you,
+cuckoo."
+
+"Turn on your side, then," said the cuckoo, "and you won't have to twist
+your neck to see over my shoulder. Are you comfortable now? And,
+by-the-by, as you may be cold, just feel under my left wing. You'll find
+the feather mantle there, that you had on once before. Wrap it round
+you. I tucked it in at the last moment, thinking you might want it."
+
+"Oh, you dear, kind cuckoo!" cried Griselda. "Yes, I've found it. I'll
+tuck it all round me like a rug--that's it. I _am_ so warm now, cuckoo."
+
+"Here goes, then," said the cuckoo, and off they set. Had ever a little
+girl such a flight before? Floating, darting, gliding, sailing--no words
+can describe it. Griselda lay still in delight, gazing all about her.
+
+"How lovely the stars are, cuckoo!" she said. "Is it true they're all
+great, big _suns_? I'd rather they weren't. I like to think of them as
+nice, funny little things."
+
+"They're not all suns," said the cuckoo. "Not all those you're looking
+at now."
+
+"I like the twinkling ones best," said Griselda. "They look so
+good-natured. Are they _all_ twirling about always, cuckoo? Mr.
+Kneebreeches has just begun to teach me astronomy, and _he_ says they
+are; but I'm not at all sure that he knows much about it."
+
+"He's quite right all the same," replied the cuckoo.
+
+"Oh dear me! How tired they must be, then!" said Griselda. "Do they
+never rest just for a minute?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Obeying orders," replied the cuckoo.
+
+Griselda gave a little wriggle.
+
+"What's the use of it?" she said. "It would be just as nice if they
+stood still now and then."
+
+"Would it?" said the cuckoo. "I know somebody who would soon find fault
+if they did. What would you say to no summer; no day, or no night,
+whichever it happened not to be, you see; nothing growing, and nothing
+to eat before long? That's what it would be if they stood still, you
+see, because----"
+
+"Thank you, cuckoo," interrupted Griselda. "It's very nice to hear
+you--I mean, very dreadful to think of, but I don't want you to explain.
+I'll ask Mr. Kneebreeches when I'm at my lessons. You might tell me one
+thing, however. What's at the other side of the moon?"
+
+"There's a variety of opinions," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What are they? Tell me the funniest."
+
+"Some say all the unfinished work of the world is kept there," said the
+cuckoo.
+
+"_That's_ not funny," said Griselda. "What a messy place it must be!
+Why, even _my_ unfinished work makes quite a heap. I don't like that
+opinion at all, cuckoo. Tell me another."
+
+"I _have_ heard," said the cuckoo, "that among the places there you
+would find the country of the little black dogs. You know what sort of
+creatures those are?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," said Griselda, rather reluctantly.
+
+"There are a good many of them in this world, as of course you know,"
+continued the cuckoo. "But up there, they are much worse than here. When
+a child has made a great pet of one down here, I've heard tell the
+fairies take him up there when his parents and nurses think he's
+sleeping quietly in his bed, and make him work hard all night, with his
+own particular little black dog on his back. And it's so dreadfully
+heavy--for every time he takes it on his back down here it grows a pound
+heavier up there--that by morning the child is quite worn out. I dare
+say you've noticed how haggered and miserable some ill-tempered children
+get to look--now you'll know the reason."
+
+"Thank you, cuckoo," said Griselda again; "but I can't say I like this
+opinion about the other side of the moon any better than the first. If
+you please, I would rather not talk about it any more."
+
+"Oh, but it's not so bad an idea after all," said the cuckoo. "Lots of
+children, they say, get quite cured in the country of the little black
+dogs. It's this way--for every time a child refuses to take the dog on
+his back down here it grows a pound lighter up there, so at last any
+sensible child learns how much better it is to have nothing to say to it
+at all, and gets out of the way of it, you see. Of course, there _are_
+children whom nothing would cure, I suppose. What becomes of them I
+really can't say. Very likely they get crushed into pancakes by the
+weight of the dogs at last, and then nothing more is ever heard of
+them."
+
+"Horrid!" said Griselda, with a shudder. "Don't let's talk about it any
+more, cuckoo; tell me your _own_ opinion about what there really is on
+the other side of the moon."
+
+The cuckoo was silent for a moment. Then suddenly he stopped short in
+the middle of his flight.
+
+"Would you like to see for yourself, Griselda?" he said. "There would be
+about time to do it," he added to himself, "and it would fulfil her
+other wish, too."
+
+"See the moon for myself, do you mean?" cried Griselda, clasping her
+hands. "I should rather think I would. Will you really take me there,
+cuckoo?"
+
+"To the other side," said the cuckoo. "I couldn't take you to this
+side."
+
+"Why not? Not that I'd care to go to this side as much as to the other;
+for, of course, we can _see_ this side from here. But I'd like to know
+why you couldn't take me there."
+
+"For _reasons_," said the cuckoo drily. "I'll give you one if you like.
+If I took you to this side of the moon you wouldn't be yourself when you
+got there."
+
+"Who would I be, then?"
+
+"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "I told you once that there are a great
+many things you don't know. Now, I'll tell you something more. There are
+a great many things you're not _intended_ to know."
+
+"Very well," said Griselda. "But do tell me when you're going on again,
+and where you are going to take me to. There's no harm my asking that?"
+
+"No," said the cuckoo. "I'm going on immediately, and I'm going to take
+you where you wanted to go to, only you must shut your eyes again, and
+lie perfectly still without talking, for I must put on steam--a good
+deal of steam--and I can't talk to you. Are you all right?"
+
+"All right," said Griselda.
+
+She had hardly said the words when she seemed to fall asleep. The
+rushing sound in the air all round her increased so greatly that she was
+conscious of nothing else. For a moment or two she tried to remember
+where she was, and where she was going, but it was useless. She forgot
+everything, and knew nothing more of what was passing till--till she
+heard the cuckoo again.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo; wake up, Griselda," he said.
+
+Griselda sat up.
+
+Where was she?
+
+Not certainly where she had been when she went to sleep. Not on the
+cuckoo's back, for there he was standing beside her, as tiny as usual.
+Either he had grown little again, or she had grown big--which, she
+supposed, it did not much matter. Only it was very queer!
+
+"Where am I, cuckoo?" she said.
+
+"Where you wished to be," he replied. "Look about you and see."
+
+Griselda looked about her. What did she see? Something that I can only
+give you a faint idea of, children; something so strange and unlike what
+she had ever seen before, that only in a dream could you see it as
+Griselda saw it. And yet _why_ it seemed to her so strange and unnatural
+I cannot well explain; if I could, my words would be as good as
+pictures, which I know they are not.
+
+After all, it was only the sea she saw; but such a great, strange,
+silent sea, for there were no waves. Griselda was seated on the shore,
+close beside the water's edge, but it did not come lapping up to her
+feet in the pretty, coaxing way that _our_ sea does when it is in a good
+humour. There were here and there faint ripples on the surface, caused
+by the slight breezes which now and then came softly round Griselda's
+face, but that was all. King Canute might have sat "from then till now"
+by this still, lifeless ocean without the chance of reading his silly
+attendants a lesson--if, indeed, there ever were such silly people,
+which I very much doubt.
+
+Griselda gazed with all her eyes. Then she suddenly gave a little
+shiver.
+
+"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo. "You have the mantle on--you're
+not cold?"
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I'm not cold; but somehow, cuckoo, I feel a little
+frightened. The sea is so strange, and so dreadfully big; and the light
+is so queer, too. What is the light, cuckoo? It isn't moonlight, is it?"
+
+"Not exactly," said the cuckoo. "You can't both have your cake and eat
+it, Griselda. Look up at the sky. There's no moon there, is there?"
+
+"No," said Griselda; "but what lots of stars, cuckoo. The light comes
+from them, I suppose? And where's the sun, cuckoo? Will it be rising
+soon? It isn't always like this up here, is it?"
+
+"Bless you, no," said the cuckoo. "There's sun enough, and rather too
+much, sometimes. How would you like a day a fortnight long, and nights
+to match? If it had been daytime here just now, I couldn't have brought
+you. It's just about the very middle of the night now, and in about a
+week of _your_ days the sun will begin to rise, because, you see----"
+
+"Oh, _dear_ cuckoo, please don't explain!" cried Griselda. "I'll promise
+to ask Mr. Kneebreeches, I will indeed. In fact, he was telling me
+something just like it to-day or yesterday--which should I say?--at my
+astronomy lesson. And that makes it so strange that you should have
+brought me up here to-night to see for myself, doesn't it, cuckoo?"
+
+"An odd coincidence," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What _would_ Mr. Kneebreeches think if I told him where I had been?"
+continued Griselda. "Only, you see, cuckoo, I never tell anybody about
+what I see when I am with you."
+
+"No," replied the cuckoo; "better not. ('Not that you could if you
+tried,' he added to himself.) You're not frightened now, Griselda, are
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't think I am," she replied. "But, cuckoo, isn't this sea
+_awfully_ big?"
+
+"Pretty well," said the cuckoo. "Just half, or nearly half, the size of
+the moon; and, no doubt, Mr. Kneebreeches has told you that the moon's
+diameter and circumference are respec----"
+
+"Oh _don't_, cuckoo!" interrupted Griselda, beseechingly. "I want to
+enjoy myself, and not to have lessons. Tell me something funny, cuckoo.
+Are there any mermaids in the moon-sea?"
+
+"Not exactly," said the cuckoo.
+
+"What a stupid way to answer," said Griselda. "There's no sense in that;
+there either must be or must not be. There couldn't be half mermaids."
+
+"I don't know about that," replied the cuckoo. "They might have been
+here once and have left their tails behind them, like Bopeep's sheep,
+you know; and some day they might be coming to find them again, you
+know. That would do for 'not exactly,' wouldn't it?"
+
+"Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," said Griselda. "Tell me, are there any
+mermaids, or fairies, or water-sprites, or any of those sort of
+creatures here?"
+
+"I must still say 'not exactly,'" said the cuckoo. "There are beings
+here, or rather there have been, and there may be again; but you,
+Griselda, can know no more than this."
+
+His tone was rather solemn, and again Griselda felt a little "eerie."
+
+"It's a dreadfully long way from home, any way," she said. "I feel as
+if, when I go back, I shall perhaps find I have been away fifty years or
+so, like the little boy in the fairy story. Cuckoo, I think I would like
+to go home. Mayn't I get on your back again?"
+
+"Presently," said the cuckoo. "Don't be uneasy, Griselda. Perhaps I'll
+take you home by a short cut."
+
+"Was ever any child here before?" asked Griselda, after a little pause.
+
+"Yes," said the cuckoo.
+
+"And did they get safe home again?"
+
+"Quite," said the cuckoo. "It's so silly of you, Griselda, to have all
+these ideas still about far and near, and big and little, and long and
+short, after all I've taught you and all you've seen."
+
+"I'm very sorry," said Griselda humbly; "but you see, cuckoo, I can't
+help it. I suppose I'm made so."
+
+"Perhaps," said the cuckoo, meditatively.
+
+He was silent for a minute. Then he spoke again. "Look over there,
+Griselda," he said. "There's the short cut."
+
+Griselda looked. Far, far over the sea, in the silent distance, she saw
+a tiny speck of light. It was very tiny; but yet the strange thing was
+that, far away as it appeared, and minute as it was, it seemed to throw
+off a thread of light to Griselda's very feet--right across the great
+sheet of faintly gleaming water. And as Griselda looked, the thread
+seemed to widen and grow, becoming at the same time brighter and
+clearer, till at last it lay before her like a path of glowing light.
+
+"Am I to walk along there?" she said softly to the cuckoo.
+
+"No," he replied; "wait."
+
+Griselda waited, looking still, and presently in the middle of the
+shining streak she saw something slowly moving--something from which
+the light came, for the nearer it got to her the shorter grew the
+glowing path, and behind the moving object the sea looked no brighter
+than before it had appeared.
+
+At last--at last, it came quite near--near enough for Griselda to
+distinguish clearly what it was.
+
+It was a little boat--the prettiest, the loveliest little boat that ever
+was seen; and it was rowed by a little figure that at first sight
+Griselda felt certain was a fairy. For it was a child with bright hair
+and silvery wings, which with every movement sparkled and shone like a
+thousand diamonds.
+
+Griselda sprang up and clapped her hands with delight. At the sound, the
+child in the boat turned and looked at her. For one instant she could
+not remember where she had seen him before; then she exclaimed,
+joyfully--
+
+"It is Phil! Oh, cuckoo, it is Phil. Have you turned into a fairy,
+Phil?"
+
+[Illustration: IT WAS ROWED BY A LITTLE FIGURE]
+
+But, alas, as she spoke the light faded away, the boy's figure
+disappeared, the sea and the shore and the sky were all as they had been
+before, lighted only by the faint, strange gleaming of the stars. Only
+the boat remained. Griselda saw it close to her, in the shallow water, a
+few feet from where she stood.
+
+"Cuckoo," she exclaimed in a tone of reproach and disappointment, "where
+is Phil gone? Why did you send him away?"
+
+"I didn't send him away," said the cuckoo. "You don't understand. Never
+mind, but get into the boat. It'll be all right, you'll see."
+
+"But are we to go away and leave Phil here, all alone at the other side
+of the moon?" said Griselda, feeling ready to cry.
+
+"Oh, you silly girl!" said the cuckoo. "Phil's all right, and in some
+ways he has a great deal more sense than you, I can tell you. Get into
+the boat and make yourself comfortable; lie down at the bottom and
+cover yourself up with the mantle. You needn't be afraid of wetting
+your feet a little, moon water never gives cold. There, now."
+
+Griselda did as she was told. She was beginning to feel rather tired,
+and it certainly was very comfortable at the bottom of the boat, with
+the nice warm feather-mantle well tucked round her.
+
+"Who will row?" she said sleepily. "_You_ can't, cuckoo, with your tiny
+little claws, you could never hold the oars, I'm----"
+
+"Hush!" said the cuckoo; and whether he rowed or not Griselda never
+knew.
+
+Off they glided somehow, but it seemed to Griselda that _somebody_
+rowed, for she heard the soft dip, dip of the oars as they went along,
+so regularly that she couldn't help beginning to count in time--one,
+two, three, four--on, on--she thought she had got nearly to a hundred,
+when----
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+"CUCKOO, CUCKOO, GOOD-BYE!"
+
+[Illustration]
+
+    "Children, try to be good!
+      That is the end of all teaching;
+    Easily understood,
+      And very easy in preaching.
+    And if you find it hard,
+      Your efforts you need but double;
+    Nothing deserves reward
+      Unless it has given us trouble."
+
+
+When she forgot everything, and fell fast, fast asleep, to wake, of
+course, in her own little bed as usual!
+
+"One of your tricks again, Mr. Cuckoo," she said to herself with a
+smile. "However, I don't mind. It _was_ a short cut home, and it was
+very comfortable in the boat, and I certainly saw a great deal last
+night, and I'm very much obliged to you--particularly for making it all
+right with Phil about not coming to play with me to-day. Ah! that
+reminds me, I'm in disgrace. I wonder if Aunt Grizzel will really make
+me stay in my room all day. How tired I shall be, and what will Mr.
+Kneebreeches think! But it serves me right. I _was_ very cross and
+rude."
+
+There came a tap at the door. It was Dorcas with the hot water.
+
+"Good morning, missie," she said gently, not feeling, to tell the truth,
+very sure as to what sort of a humour "missie" was likely to be found in
+this morning. "I hope you've slept well."
+
+"Exceedingly well, thank you, Dorcas. I've had a delightful night,"
+replied Griselda amiably, smiling to herself at the thought of what
+Dorcas would say if she knew where she had been, and what she had been
+doing since last she saw her.
+
+"That's good news," said Dorcas in a tone of relief; "and I've good news
+for you, too, missie. At least, I hope you'll think it so. Your aunt has
+ordered the carriage for quite early this morning--so you see she really
+wants to please you, missie, about playing with little Master Phil; and
+if to-morrow's a fine day, we'll be sure to find some way of letting him
+know to come."
+
+"Thank you, Dorcas. I hope it will be all right, and that Lady Lavander
+won't say anything against it. I dare say she won't. I feel ever so much
+happier this morning, Dorcas; and I'm very sorry I was so rude to Aunt
+Grizzel, for of course I know I _should_ obey her."
+
+"That's right, missie," said Dorcas approvingly.
+
+"It seems to me, Dorcas," said Griselda dreamily, when, a few minutes
+later, she was standing by the window while the old servant brushed out
+her thick, wavy hair, "it seems to me, Dorcas, that it's _all_ 'obeying
+orders' together. There's the sun now, just getting up, and the moon
+just going to bed--_they_ are always obeying, aren't they? I wonder why
+it should be so hard for people--for children, at least."
+
+"To be sure, missie, you do put it a way of your own," replied Dorcas,
+somewhat mystified; "but I see how you mean, I think, and it's quite
+true. And it _is_ a hard lesson to learn."
+
+"I want to learn it _well_, Dorcas," said Griselda, resolutely. "So will
+you please tell Aunt Grizzel that I'm very sorry about last night, and
+I'll do just as she likes about staying in my room or anything. But, if
+she _would_ let me, I'd far rather go down and do my lessons as usual
+for Mr. Kneebreeches. I won't ask to go out in the garden; but I would
+like to please Aunt Grizzel by doing my lessons _very_ well."
+
+Dorcas was both delighted and astonished. Never had she known her little
+"missie" so altogether submissive and reasonable.
+
+"I only hope the child's not going to be ill," she said to herself. But
+she proved a skilful ambassadress, notwithstanding her misgivings; and
+Griselda's imprisonment confined her only to the bounds of the house and
+terrace walk, instead of within the four walls of her own little room,
+as she had feared.
+
+Lessons _were_ very well done that day, and Mr. Kneebreeches' report was
+all that could be wished.
+
+"I am particularly gratified," he remarked to Miss Grizzel, "by the
+intelligence and interest Miss Griselda displays with regard to the
+study of astronomy, which I have recently begun to give her some
+elementary instruction in. And, indeed, I have no fault to find with the
+way in which any of the young lady's tasks are performed."
+
+"I am extremely glad to hear it," replied Miss Grizzel graciously, and
+the kiss with which she answered Griselda's request for forgiveness was
+a very hearty one.
+
+And it was "all right" about Phil.
+
+Lady Lavander knew all about him; his father and mother were friends of
+hers, for whom she had a great regard, and for some time she had been
+intending to ask the little boy to spend the day at Merrybrow Hall, to
+be introduced to her god-daughter Griselda. So, _of course_, as Lady
+Lavander knew all about him, there could be no objection to his playing
+in Miss Grizzel's garden!
+
+And "to-morrow" turned out a fine day. So altogether you can imagine
+that Griselda felt very happy and light-hearted as she ran down the
+wood-path to meet her little friend, whose rosy face soon appeared among
+the bushes.
+
+"What did you do yesterday, Phil?" asked Griselda. "Were you sorry not
+to come to play with me?"
+
+"No," said Phil mysteriously, "I didn't mind. I was looking for the way
+to fairyland to show you, and I do believe I've found it. Oh, it _is_
+such a pretty way."
+
+Griselda smiled.
+
+"I'm afraid the way to fairyland isn't so easily found," she said. "But
+I'd like to hear about where you went. Was it far?"
+
+"A good way," said Phil. "Won't you come with me? It's in the wood. I
+can show you quite well, and we can be back by tea-time."
+
+"Very well," said Griselda; and off they set.
+
+Whether it was the way to fairyland or not, it was not to be wondered at
+that little Phil thought so. He led Griselda right across the wood to a
+part where she had never been before. It was pretty rough work part of
+the way. The children had to fight with brambles and bushes, and here
+and there to creep through on hands and knees, and Griselda had to
+remind Phil several times of her promise to his nurse that his clothes
+should not be the worse for his playing with her, to prevent his
+scrambling through "anyhow" and leaving bits of his knickerbockers
+behind him.
+
+But when at last they reached Phil's favourite spot all their troubles
+were forgotten. Oh, how pretty it was! It was a sort of tiny glade in
+the very middle of the wood--a little green nest enclosed all round by
+trees, and right through it the merry brook came rippling along as if
+rejoicing at getting out into the sunlight again for a while. And all
+the choicest and sweetest of the early summer flowers seemed to be
+collected here in greater variety and profusion than in any other part
+of the wood.
+
+"_Isn't_ it nice?" said Phil, as he nestled down beside Griselda on the
+soft, mossy grass. "It must have been a fairies' garden some time, I'm
+sure, and I shouldn't wonder if one of the doors into fairyland is
+hidden somewhere here, if only we could find it."
+
+"If only!" said Griselda. "I don't think we shall find it, Phil; but,
+any way, this is a lovely place you've found, and I'd like to come here
+very often."
+
+Then at Phil's suggestion they set to work to make themselves a house
+in the centre of this fairies' garden, as he called it. They managed it
+very much to their own satisfaction, by dragging some logs of wood and
+big stones from among the brushwood hard by, and filling the holes up
+with bracken and furze.
+
+"And if the fairies _do_ come here," said Phil, "they'll be very pleased
+to find a house all ready, won't they?"
+
+Then they had to gather flowers to ornament the house inside, and dry
+leaves and twigs all ready for a fire in one corner. Altogether it was
+quite a business, I can assure you, and when it was finished they were
+very hot and very tired and _rather_ dirty. Suddenly a thought struck
+Griselda.
+
+"Phil," she said, "it must be getting late."
+
+"Past tea-time?" he said coolly.
+
+"I dare say it is. Look how low down the sun has got. Come, Phil, we
+must be quick. Where is the place we came out of the wood at?"
+
+"Here," said Phil, diving at a little opening among the bushes.
+
+Griselda followed him. He had been a good guide hitherto, and she
+certainly could not have found her way alone. They scrambled on for some
+way, then the bushes suddenly seemed to grow less thick, and in a minute
+they came out upon a little path.
+
+"Phil," said Griselda, "this isn't the way we came."
+
+"Isn't it?" said Phil, looking about him. "Then we must have comed the
+wrong way."
+
+"I'm afraid so," said Griselda, "and it seems to be so late already. I'm
+so sorry, for Aunt Grizzel will be vexed, and I did so want to please
+her. Will your nurse be vexed, Phil?"
+
+"I don't care if she are," replied Phil valiantly.
+
+"You shouldn't say that, Phil. You know we _shouldn't_ have stayed so
+long playing."
+
+"Nebber mind," said Phil. "If it was mother I would mind. Mother's so
+good, you don't know. And she never 'colds me, except when I _am_
+naughty--so I _do_ mind."
+
+"She wouldn't like you to be out so late, I'm sure," said Griselda in
+distress, "and it's most my fault, for I'm the biggest. Now, which way
+_shall_ we go?"
+
+They had followed the little path till it came to a point where two
+roads, rough cart-ruts only, met; or, rather, where the path ran across
+the road. Right, or left, or straight on, which should it be? Griselda
+stood still in perplexity. Already it was growing dusk; already the
+moon's soft light was beginning faintly to glimmer through the branches.
+Griselda looked up to the sky.
+
+"To think," she said to herself--"to think that I should not know my way
+in a little bit of a wood like this--I that was up at the other side of
+the moon last night."
+
+The remembrance put another thought into her mind.
+
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she said softly, "couldn't you help us?"
+
+Then she stood still and listened, holding Phil's cold little hands in
+her own.
+
+She was not disappointed. Presently, in the distance, came the
+well-known cry, "cuckoo, cuckoo," so soft and far away, but yet so
+clear.
+
+Phil clapped his hands.
+
+"He's calling us," he cried joyfully. "He's going to show us the way.
+That's how he calls me always. Good cuckoo, we're coming;" and, pulling
+Griselda along, he darted down the road to the right--the direction from
+whence came the cry.
+
+They had some way to go, for they had wandered far in a wrong direction,
+but the cuckoo never failed them. Whenever they were at a loss--whenever
+the path turned or divided, they heard his clear, sweet call; and,
+without the least misgiving, they followed it, till at last it brought
+them out upon the high-road, a stone's throw from Farmer Crouch's gate.
+
+"I know the way now, good cuckoo," exclaimed Phil. "I can go home alone
+now, if your aunt will be vexed with you."
+
+"No," said Griselda, "I must take you quite all the way home, Phil dear.
+I promised to take care of you, and if nurse scolds any one it must be
+me, not you."
+
+There was a little bustle about the door of the farm-house as the
+children wearily came up to it. Two or three men were standing together
+receiving directions from Mr. Crouch himself, and Phil's nurse was
+talking eagerly. Suddenly she caught sight of the truants.
+
+"Here he is, Mr. Crouch!" she exclaimed. "No need now to send to look
+for him. Oh, Master Phil, how could you stay out so late? And to-night
+of all nights, just when your----I forgot, I mustn't say. Come in to the
+parlour at once--and this little girl, who is she?"
+
+"She isn't a little girl, she's a young lady," said Master Phil, putting
+on his lordly air, "and she's to come into the parlour and have some
+supper with me, and then some one must take her home to her auntie's
+house--that's what I say."
+
+More to please Phil than from any wish for "supper," for she was really
+in a fidget to get home, Griselda let the little boy lead her into the
+parlour. But she was for a moment perfectly startled by the cry that
+broke from him when he opened the door and looked into the room. A lady
+was standing there, gazing out of the window, though in the quickly
+growing darkness she could hardly have distinguished the little figure
+she was watching for so anxiously.
+
+The noise of the door opening made her look round.
+
+"Phil," she cried, "my own little Phil; where have you been to? You
+didn't know I was waiting here for you, did you?"
+
+"Mother, mother!" shouted Phil, darting into his mother's arms.
+
+But Griselda drew back into the shadow of the doorway, and tears filled
+her eyes as for a minute or two she listened to the cooings and
+caressings of the mother and son.
+
+Only for a minute, however. Then Phil called to her.
+
+"Mother, mother," he cried again, "you must kiss Griselda, too! She's
+the little girl that is so kind, and plays with me; and she has no
+mother," he added in a lower tone.
+
+The lady put her arm round Griselda, and kissed her, too. She did not
+seem surprised.
+
+"I think I know about Griselda," she said very kindly, looking into her
+face with her gentle eyes, blue and clear like Phil's.
+
+And then Griselda found courage to say how uneasy she was about the
+anxiety her aunts would be feeling, and a messenger was sent off at once
+to tell of her being safe at the farm.
+
+But Griselda herself the kind lady would not let go till she had had
+some nice supper with Phil, and was both warmed and rested.
+
+"And what were you about, children, to lose your way?" she asked
+presently.
+
+"I took Griselda to see a place that I thought was the way to fairyland,
+and then we stayed to build a house for the fairies, in case they come,
+and then we came out at the wrong side, and it got dark," explained
+Phil.
+
+"And _was_ it the way to fairyland?" asked his mother, smiling.
+
+Griselda shook her head as she replied--
+
+"Phil doesn't understand yet," she said gently. "He isn't old enough.
+The way to the true fairyland is hard to find, and we must each find it
+for ourselves, mustn't we?"
+
+She looked up in the lady's face as she spoke, and saw that _she_
+understood.
+
+"Yes, dear child," she answered softly, and perhaps a very little sadly.
+"But Phil and you may help each other, and I perhaps may help you both."
+
+Griselda slid her hand into the lady's. "You're not going to take Phil
+away, are you?" she whispered.
+
+"No, I have come to stay here," she answered; "and Phil's father is
+coming too, soon. We are going to live at the White House--the house on
+the other side of the wood, on the way to Merrybrow. Are you glad,
+children?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Griselda had a curious dream that night--merely a dream, nothing else.
+She dreamt that the cuckoo came once more; this time, he told her, to
+say "good-bye."
+
+"For you will not need me now," he said. "I leave you in good hands,
+Griselda. You have friends now who will understand you--friends who will
+help you both to work and to play. Better friends than the mandarins, or
+the butterflies, or even than your faithful old cuckoo."
+
+And when Griselda tried to speak to him, to thank him for his goodness,
+to beg him still sometimes to come to see her, he gently fluttered away.
+"Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo," he warbled; but somehow the last "cuckoo"
+sounded like "good-bye."
+
+In the morning, when Griselda awoke, her pillow was wet with tears.
+Thus many stories end. She was happy, very happy in the thought of her
+kind new friends; but there were tears for the one she felt she had said
+farewell to, even though he was only a cuckoo in a clock.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+
+
+
+
+THE CASTLE IN THE LOUGH
+
+A LEGEND OF DONEGAL
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+"Father," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+castle in the lough."
+
+Dermot M'Swyne was a little lad, with blue soft eyes and bright fair
+hair. He was the only son of Brian, the chief of the M'Swynes, and
+people used sometimes to say scornfully that he was a poor puny son to
+come of such a father, for he was not big and burly, as a M'Swyne ought
+to be, but slim and fair, and like a girl. However, Brian M'Swyne loved
+his fair-haired boy, and would have given up most other pleasures in
+the world for the pleasure of having the little fellow by his side and
+listening to his prattling voice. He was like his mother, those said who
+remembered the blue-eyed stranger whom Brian M'Swyne had brought home
+ten years before as his wife to Doe Castle, in Donegal, and who had
+pined there for a few years and then died; and perhaps it was for her
+sake that the child was so dear to the rough old chief. He was never
+tired of having the little lad beside him, and many a time he would
+carry him about and cradle him in his arms, and pass his big fingers
+through the boy's golden curls, and let the little hands play with his
+beard.
+
+Sitting together in the firelight on winter nights, while the peat fire
+was burning on the floor, and the wind, sweeping across Lough Eske, went
+wailing round the castle walls and sighing in the leafless trees, the
+boy would often get his father to tell him stories of the country-side.
+There were many strange legends treasured up in the memories of all old
+inhabitants of the place, wild stories of enchantments, or of fairies or
+banshees; and little Dermot would never tire of listening to these
+tales. Sometimes, when he had heard some only half-finished story, he
+would go dreaming on and on to himself about it, till he had woven an
+ending, or a dozen endings, to it in his own brain.
+
+But of all the tales to which he used to listen there was one that
+perhaps, more than any other, he liked to hear--the story of the
+enchanted castle swallowed up by Lough Belshade. There, down beneath the
+waters of the dark lough, into which he had looked so often, was the
+castle standing still, its gates and towers and walls all perfect, just
+as it had stood upon the earth, the very fires still alight that had
+been burning on its hearths, and--more wonderful than all--the people
+who had been sunk in it, though fixed and motionless in their enchanted
+sleep, alive too. It was a wonder of wonders; the child was never tired
+of thinking of it, and dreaming of the time in which the enchantment
+should be broken, and of the person who should break it; for, strangest
+of all, the story said that they must sleep until a M'Swyne should come
+and wake them. But what M'Swyne would do it? And how was it to be done?
+"Father," little Dermot would say, "tell me something more about the
+enchanted castle in the lough."
+
+The legend was thus: On the shores of the desolate lough there had once
+stood a great castle, where lived a beautiful maiden called Eileen. Her
+father was the chieftain of a clan, and she was his only child. Many
+young lovers sought her, but she cared for none of them. At last there
+came to the castle a noble-looking knight. He had traveled from a far
+country, he said, and he began soon to tell wonderful stories to Eileen
+of the beauty and the richness of that land of his; how the skies there
+were always blue, and the sun always shone, and lords and ladies lived,
+not in rough stone-hewn castles like these, but in palaces all bright
+with marbles and precious stones; and how their lives were all a long
+delight, with music and dancing and all pleasant things.
+
+Eileen listened while he told these tales to her, till she began to long
+to see his country; and her heart yearned for something brighter and
+better than the sombre life she led by the shores of the dark lough; and
+so when, after a time, the knight one day told her that he loved her,
+she gave him her promise to go to his home with him and marry him.
+
+She was very contented for a little while after she had promised to be
+the knight's wife, and spent nearly all her time in talking to her lover
+and in picturing to herself the new and beautiful things that she was
+going to see. She was very happy, on the whole; though now and then, to
+tell the truth, as time went on, she began to be a little puzzled and
+surprised by certain things that the knight did, and certain odd habits
+that he had; for, in fact, he had some very odd habits, indeed, and,
+charming and handsome as he was, conducted himself occasionally in
+really quite a singular way.
+
+For instance, it was a curious fact that he never could bear the sight
+of a dog; and if ever one came near him (and as there were a good many
+dogs about the castle, it was quite impossible to keep them from coming
+near him now and then) he would set his teeth, and rise slowly from his
+seat, and begin to make a low hissing noise, craning his neck forward,
+and swelling and rounding his back in such an extraordinary way that the
+first time Eileen saw him doing it she thought he was going to have a
+fit, and was quite alarmed.
+
+"Oh, dear, I--I'm afraid you're ill!" she exclaimed, getting upon her
+feet and feeling very uneasy.
+
+"No, no, it's only--it's only--the dog," gasped the knight, gripping his
+seat with both hands, as if it needed the greatest effort to keep
+himself still. "Hiss--s--s--s! I've such a terrible dislike to dogs.
+It's--it's in my family," said the poor young man; and he could not
+recover his composure at all till the little animal that had disturbed
+him was carried away.
+
+Then he had such a strange fashion of amusing himself in his own room
+where he slept. It was a spacious room, hung all round with arras; and
+often, after the household had gone to bed, those who slept nearest to
+the knight were awakened out of their sleep by the noise he made in
+running up and down, and here and there; scudding about over the floor,
+and even--as far as could be guessed by the sounds--clambering up the
+walls, just as though, instead of being a gracious high-bred young
+gentleman, he had been the veriest tomboy.
+
+"I fear, Sir Knight, you do not always rest easily in your apartment,"
+Eileen's old father said to him one morning after he had been making
+even more disturbance of this sort than usual. "We have rough ways here
+in the North, and perhaps the arrangement of your sleeping quarters is
+not exactly to your liking?"
+
+But the knight, when he began to say this, interrupted him hastily, and
+declared that he had never slept more comfortably in any room in his
+life, or more peacefully, he said; he was seldom conscious of even so
+much as awakening once. Of course, when he said this, Eileen and her
+father could only open their eyes, and come to the conclusion that the
+poor young knight was a somnambulist, and afflicted with the habit of
+running and leaping in his sleep.
+
+Again, too, out-of-doors, it was very odd how it affected him to hear
+the birds sing. Whenever they began their songs, all sorts of nervous
+twitchings would come over him, and he would lick his lips and make
+convulsive movements with his hands; and his attention would become so
+distracted that he would quite lose the thread of his discourse if he
+were talking, or the thread of Eileen's, if she were talking to him. "It
+is because I enjoy hearing them so much," he said once; and of course
+when he said so Eileen could only believe him; yet she could not help
+wishing he would show his pleasure in some other way than this curious
+one of setting his teeth and rolling his eyes, and looking much more as
+if he wanted to eat the birds than to listen to them.
+
+Still, in spite of these and a good many other peculiarities, the young
+knight was very charming, and Eileen was very fond of him. They used to
+spend the happiest days together, wandering about the wild and beautiful
+country, often sitting for hours on the rocky shores of the dark lough,
+looking into the deep still water at their feet. It was a wild,
+romantic, lonely place, shut out from the sunlight by great granite
+cliffs that threw their dark weird shadows over it.
+
+"Do you know there is a prophecy that our castle shall stand one day
+here in the middle of the lough?" Eileen said, laughing, once. "I don't
+know how it is to be done, but we are to be planted somehow in the
+middle of the water. That is what the people say. I shouldn't like to
+live here then. How gloomy it would be to have those great shadows
+always over us!" and the girl shivered a little, and stole her hand into
+her lover's, and they began to talk about the far different place where
+she should live; his beautiful palace, far away in the sunny country
+beyond the sea. She was never weary of hearing about the new place and
+new life that she was going to, and all the beauty and happiness that
+were going to be hers.
+
+So time went on, until at last the day before the marriage-day came.
+Eileen had been showing her lover all her ornaments; she had a great
+number of very precious ones, and, to please him and amuse herself, she
+had been putting them all on, loading herself with armlets, and
+bracelets, and heavy chains of gold, such as the old Irish princesses
+used to wear, till she looked as gorgeous as a princess herself.
+
+It was a sunny summer day, and she sat thinking to herself, "My married
+life will begin so soon now--the new, beautiful, strange life--and I
+will wear these ornaments in the midst of it; but where everything else
+is so lovely, will he think me then as lovely as he does now?"
+
+Presently she glanced up, with a little shyness and a little vanity,
+just to see if he was looking at and thinking of her; but as she lifted
+up her head, instead of finding that his eyes were resting on her, she
+found----
+
+Well, she found that the knight was certainly not thinking of her one
+bit. He was sitting staring fixedly at one corner of the apartment, with
+his lips working in the oddest fashion; twitching this way and that, and
+parting and showing his teeth, while he was clawing with his hands the
+chair on which he sat.
+
+"Dear me!" said Eileen rather sharply and pettishly, "what is the matter
+with you?"
+
+Eileen spoke pretty crossly; for as she had on various previous
+occasions seen the knight conduct himself in this sort of way, her
+feeling was less of alarm at the sight of him than simply of annoyance
+that at this moment, when she herself had been thinking of him so
+tenderly, he could be giving his attention to any other thing. "What is
+the matter with you?" she said; and she raised herself in her chair and
+turned round her head to see if she could perceive anything worth
+looking at in that corner into which the knight was staring almost as if
+the eyes would leap out of his head.
+
+"Why, there's nothing there but a mouse!" she said contemptuously, when
+she had looked and listened for a moment, and heard only a little faint
+scratching behind the tapestry.
+
+"No, no, I believe not; oh, no, nothing but a mouse," replied the knight
+hurriedly; but still he did not take his eyes from the spot, and he
+moved from side to side in his chair, and twitched his head from right
+to left, and looked altogether as if he hardly knew what he was about.
+
+"And I am sure a mouse is a most harmless thing," said Eileen.
+
+"Harmless? Oh! delicious!" replied the knight, with so much unction that
+Eileen, in her turn, opened her eyes and stared. "Delicious! quite
+delicious!" murmured the knight again.
+
+But after a moment or two more, all at once he seemed to recollect
+himself, and made a great effort, and withdrew his eyes from the corner
+where the mouse was still making a little feeble scratching.
+
+"I mean a--a most interesting animal," he said. "I have always felt with
+regard to mice----"
+
+But just at this instant the mouse poked out his little head from
+beneath the tapestry, and the knight leaped to his feet as if he was
+shot.
+
+"Hiss--s--s! skier--r--r! hiss--s--s--s!" he cried; and--could Eileen
+believe her eyes?--for one instant she saw the knight flash past her,
+and then there was nothing living in the room besides her but a great
+black cat clinging by his claws half-way up the arras, and a little
+brown mouse between his teeth.
+
+Of course the only thing that Eileen could do was to faint, and so she
+fainted, and it was six hours before she came to herself again. In the
+mean time nobody in the world knew what had happened; and when she
+opened her eyes and began to cry out about a terrible black cat, they
+all thought she had gone out of her mind.
+
+"My dear child, I assure you there is no such thing in the house as a
+black cat," her father said uneasily to her, trying to soothe her in the
+best way he could.
+
+"Oh, yes, he turned into a black cat," cried Eileen.
+
+"Who turned into a black cat?" asked her father.
+
+"The knight did," sobbed Eileen.
+
+And then the poor old father went out of the room, thinking that his
+daughter was going mad.
+
+"She is quite beside herself; she says that you are not a man, but a
+cat," he said sorrowfully to the young knight, whom he met standing
+outside his daughter's room. "What in the world could have put such
+thoughts into her head? Not a thing will she talk about but black cats."
+
+"Let me see her; I will bring her to her right mind," said the knight.
+
+"I doubt it very much," replied the chief; but as he did not know what
+else to do, he let him go into the room, and the knight went in softly
+and closed the door, and went up to the couch on which Eileen lay. She
+lay with her eyes closed, and with all her gold chains still upon her
+neck and arms; and the knight, because he trod softly, had come quite up
+to her side before she knew that he was there. But the moment she opened
+her eyes and saw him, she gave such a scream that it quite made him
+leap; and if he had not bolted the door every creature in the castle
+would have rushed into the room at the sound of it. Fortunately for him,
+however, he had bolted the door; and as it was a very stout door, made
+of strong oak, Eileen might have screamed for an hour before anybody
+could have burst it open. As soon, therefore, as the knight had
+recovered from the start she gave him, he quietly took a chair and sat
+down by her side.
+
+"Eileen," he said, beginning to speak at once--for probably he felt that
+the matter he had come to mention was rather a painful and a delicate
+one, and the more quickly he could get over what he had to say the
+better--"Eileen, you have unhappily to-day seen me under--ahem!--under
+an unaccustomed shape----"
+
+He had only got so far as this, when Eileen gave another shriek and
+covered her face with her hands.
+
+"I say," repeated the knight, in a tone of some annoyance, and raising
+his voice, for Eileen was making such a noise that it was really
+necessary to speak pretty loudly--"I say you have unfortunately seen me
+to-day under a shape that you were not prepared for; but I have come, my
+love, to assure you that the--transformation--was purely accidental--a
+mere blunder of a moment--an occurrence that shall never be repeated in
+your sight. Look up to me again, Eileen, and do not let this eve of our
+marriage-day----"
+
+But what the knight had got to say about the eve of their marriage-day
+Eileen never heard, for as soon as he had reached these words she gave
+another shriek so loud that he jumped upon his seat.
+
+"Do you think that I will ever marry a black cat?" cried Eileen, fixing
+her eyes with a look of horror on his face.
+
+"Eileen, take care!" exclaimed the knight sternly. "Take care how you
+anger me, or it will be the worse for you."
+
+"The worse for me! Do you think I am afraid of you?" said Eileen with
+her eyes all flashing, for she had a high enough spirit, and was not
+going to allow herself to be forced to marry a black cat, let the knight
+say what he would. She rose from her couch and would have sprung to the
+ground, if all at once the knight had not bent forward and taken her by
+her hand.
+
+"Eileen," said the knight, holding her fast and looking into her face,
+"Eileen, will you be my wife?"
+
+"I would sooner die!" cried Eileen.
+
+"Eileen," cried the knight passionately, "I love you! Do not break your
+promise to me. Forget what you have seen. I am a powerful magician. I
+will make you happy. I will give you all you want. Be my wife."
+
+"Never!" cried Eileen.
+
+"Then you have sealed your fate!" exclaimed the knight fiercely; and
+suddenly he rose and extended his arms, and said some strange words that
+Eileen did not understand; and all at once it appeared to her as if some
+thick white pall were spreading over her, and her eyelids began to
+close, and involuntarily she sank back.
+
+Once more, but as if in a dream, she heard the knight's voice.
+
+"If you do not become my wife," he said, "you shall never be the wife of
+any living man. The black cat can hold his own. Sleep here till another
+lover comes to woo you."
+
+A mocking laugh rang through the room--and then Eileen heard no more. It
+seemed to her that her life was passing away. A strange feeling came to
+her, as if she were sinking through the air; there was a sound in her
+ears of rushing water; and then all recollection and all consciousness
+ceased.
+
+Some travelers passing that evening by the lough gazed at the spot on
+which the castle had stood, and rubbed their eyes in wild surprise, for
+there was no castle there, but only a bare tract of desolate, waste
+ground. The prophecy had been fulfilled; the castle had been lifted up
+from its foundation and sunk in the waters of the lough.
+
+This was the story that Dermot used to listen to as he sat in his
+father's hall on winter nights--a wild old story, very strange, and
+sweet too, as well as strange. For they were living still, the legend
+always said--the chief and his household, and beautiful Eileen; not dead
+at all, but only sleeping an enchanted sleep, till some one of the
+M'Swynes should come and kill the black cat who guarded them, and set
+them free. Under those dark, deep waters, asleep for three hundred
+years, lay Eileen, with all her massive ornaments on her neck and arms,
+and red-gold Irish hair. How often did the boy think of her, and picture
+to himself the motionless face, with its closed, waiting eyes, and yearn
+to see it. Asleep there for three hundred years! His heart used to burn
+at the imagination. In all these centuries had no M'Swyne been found
+bold enough to find the black cat and kill him? Could it be so hard a
+thing to kill a black cat? the little fellow thought.
+
+"I'd kill him myself if only I had the chance," he said one day; and
+when he said that his father laughed.
+
+"Ay, my lad, you might kill him if you had the chance--but how would you
+get the chance?" he asked him. "Do you think the magician would be fool
+enough to leave his watch over the lough and put himself in your way?
+Kill him? Yes, we could any of us kill him if we could catch him; but
+three hundred years have passed away and nobody has ever caught him
+yet."
+
+"Well, I may do it some day, when I am grown a man," Dermot said.
+
+So he went on dreaming over the old legend, and weaving out of his own
+brain an ending to it. What if it should be, indeed, his lot to awake
+Eileen from her enchanted sleep? He used to wander often by the shores
+of the dark little lough and gaze into the shadowy waters. Many a time,
+too, he would sail across them, leaning down over his boat's side, to
+try in vain to catch some glimpse of the buried castle's walls or
+towers. Once or twice--it might have been mere fancy--it seemed to him
+as if he saw some dark thing below the surface, and he would cry aloud,
+"The cat! I see the black cat!" But they only laughed at him when he
+returned home and said this. "It was only a big fish at the bottom of
+the water, my boy," his father would reply.
+
+When he was a boy he talked of this story often and was never weary of
+asking questions concerning it; but presently, as he grew older, he grew
+more reserved and shy, and when he spoke about Eileen the color used to
+come into his cheek. "Why, boy, are you falling in love with her?" his
+father said to him one day. "Are there not unbewitched maidens enough to
+please you on the face of the earth, but you must take a fancy to a
+bewitched one lying asleep at the bottom of the lough?" and he laughed
+aloud at him. After that day Dermot never spoke of Eileen in his
+father's hearing. But although he ceased to speak of her, yet only the
+more did he think and dream about her; and the older he grew, the less
+did he seem to care for any of those unbewitched maidens of whom his
+father had talked; and the only maiden of whom he thought with love and
+longing was this one who lay asleep in the enchanted castle in the
+lough.
+
+So the years passed on, and in time Dermot's father died, and the young
+man became chieftain of his clan. He was straight and tall, with blue,
+clear eyes, and a frank, fair face. Some of the M'Swynes, who were a
+rough, burly race, looked scornfully on him and said that he was fitter
+to make love to ladies than to head men on a battle-field; but they
+wronged him when they said that, for no braver soldier than Dermot had
+ever led their clan. He was both brave and gentle too, and courteous,
+and tender, and kind; and as for being only fit to make love to
+ladies--why, making love to ladies was almost the only thing he never
+did.
+
+"Are you not going to bring home a wife to the old house, my son?" said
+his foster-mother, an old woman who had lived with him all her life.
+"Before I die I'd love to dandle a child of yours upon my knee."
+
+But Dermot only shook his head. "My wife, I fear, will be hard to win. I
+may have to wait for her all my days." And then, after a little while,
+when the old woman still went on talking to him, "How can I marry when
+my love has been asleep these three hundred years?"
+
+This was the first time that he had spoken about Eileen for many a day,
+and the old nurse had thought, like everybody else, that he had
+forgotten that old legend and all the foolish fancies of his youth.
+
+She was sitting at her spinning-wheel, but she dropped the thread and
+folded her hands sadly on her knees.
+
+"My son, why think on her that's as good as dead? Even if you could win
+her, would you take a bewitched maiden to be your wife?"
+
+It was a summer's day, and Dermot stood looking far away through the
+sunshine toward where, though he could not see it, the enchanted castle
+lay. He had stood in that same place a thousand times, looking toward
+it, dreaming over the old tale.
+
+For several minutes he made no answer to what the old woman had said;
+then all at once he turned round to her.
+
+"Nurse," he said passionately, "I have adored her for twenty years. Ever
+since I first stood at your knees, and you told me of her, she has been
+the one love of my heart. Unless I can marry her, I will never marry any
+woman in this world." He came to the old woman's side, and though he was
+a full-grown man, he put his arms about her neck. "Nurse, you have a
+keen woman's wit; cannot you help me with it?" he said. "I have wandered
+round the lough by day and night and challenged the magician to come and
+try his power against me, but he does not hear me, or he will not come.
+How can I reach him through those dark, cruel waters and force him to
+come out of them and fight with me?"
+
+"Foolish lad!" the old woman said. She was a wise old woman, but she
+believed as much as everybody else did in the legend of the castle in
+the lough. "What has he to gain that he need come up and fight with you?
+Do you think the black cat's such a fool as to heed your ranting and
+your challenging?"
+
+"But what else can I do?"
+
+The old woman took her thread into her hands again, and sat spinning for
+two or three minutes without answering a word. She was a sensible old
+woman, and it seemed to her a sad pity that a fine young man like her
+foster-son should waste his life in pining for the love of a maiden who
+had lain asleep and enchanted for three hundred years. Yet the nurse
+loved him so dearly that she could not bear to cross him in anything, or
+to refuse to do anything that he asked. So she sat spinning and thinking
+for a little while, and then said:
+
+"It was a mouse that made him show himself in his own shape first, and
+it's few mice he can be catching, I guess, down in the bottom of the
+lough. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you half a dozen mice in a
+bag tomorrow, and you can let them loose when you get to the water side,
+and see if that will bring him up."
+
+Well, Dermot did not think very much of this plan; but still, as he had
+asked the old woman to help him, he felt that he could not avoid taking
+her advice, and so the next morning his nurse gave him a bag with half a
+dozen mice in it, and he carried it with him to the lough. But, alas! as
+soon as ever he had opened the bag, all the six mice rushed away like
+lightning and were out of sight in a moment.
+
+"That chance is soon ended," Dermot said mournfully to himself; so he
+took back the empty bag to his nurse, and told her what had happened.
+
+"You goose, why didn't you let them out one by one?" inquired she.
+"Sure they would run when you opened the bag. You should have made play
+with them."
+
+"To be sure, so I should; but I never thought of that. I'll do better
+next time."
+
+So next day the woman brought him the bag again, filled this time with
+fat rats, and he took it to the lough, and laid it down at the water
+side, and opened the mouth of it just wide enough for one of the rats to
+put out his nose; and then he sat and watched, and watched, letting the
+rats run away one by one; but though he sat watching for the whole day,
+not a sign did he ever see of the black cat. At last he came
+disconsolately home again with the empty bag on his shoulder.
+
+"Never mind, my son, we'll try something else to-morrow," said nurse
+cheerfully. So next morning she brought him a fishing-rod, and a large
+piece of toasted cheese. "Take this to the lough and bait your hook with
+it," she said, "and see if the black cat won't come up and take a bite.
+All cats like cheese."
+
+Dermot went immediately to the lough, baited his hook, and threw the
+line out into the water. After a few minutes his heart gave a great
+jump, for he felt a sudden pull at the line. He drew it in softly and
+cautiously; but when he got it to the water's edge there was nothing on
+his hook but a large flat fish--and the toasted cheese had all broken
+away and was gone.
+
+"What a foolish old woman, to give me toasted cheese to put into water!"
+he said to himself; then he heaved a sigh, threw the fish into his bag,
+and once more went sadly away.
+
+"I dare say the villain of a cat has breakfasted nicely off the toasted
+cheese without the trouble of coming for it," he said bitterly, when he
+got home.
+
+"Never mind; we'll maybe have better luck to-morrow," replied the nurse.
+"I dreamed a dream, and in the dream I thought of something else to do."
+
+So early next morning she brought a fat black pig.
+
+"What in the world am I to do with this?" said Dermot sharply.
+
+"Ah, now, be easy, my dear," said the old woman coaxingly. "Just take it
+down to the lough and roast it there, and sure when the cat smells the
+fine smell of it he'll come up for a taste."
+
+Now Dermot was getting rather tired of doing all these odd things; and
+though he had readily gone to the lough with the mice and the rats and
+the toasted cheese, yet he did not at all relish the notion of carrying
+a live pig across the country with him for two or three miles. However,
+he was very good-natured, and so, although he did not himself think that
+any good would come of it, after a little while he let his nurse
+persuade him to take the pig. The old woman tied a string about its leg,
+and he took it to the lough, and as soon as he got there he collected
+some sticks and peat together and, building up a good big pile, set
+light to it. Then he killed the pig with his hunting-knife and hung it
+up before the fire to roast. Presently a most savory smell began to
+fill the air.
+
+Dermot withdrew a little way, sat down behind a jutting piece of rock,
+and watched, his eyes never leaving the smooth surface of the lough; but
+minute after minute passed and not the slightest movement stirred it.
+From time to time he made up his fire afresh, and turned his pig from
+side to side. The whole air around grew full of the smell of roasting
+meat, so savory that, being hungry, it made Dermot's own mouth water;
+but still--there lay the lough, quiet and smooth, and undisturbed as
+glass, with only the dark shadows of the silent rocks lying across it.
+
+At last the pig was cooked and ready, and Dermot rose and drew it from
+the fire.
+
+"I may as well make my own dinner off it," he thought sorrowfully to
+himself, "for nobody else will come to have a share of it." So he took
+his knife and cut himself a juicy slice, and sat down again, concealing
+himself behind the rock, with his bow and arrow by his side, and had
+just lifted the first morsel to his lips, when--
+
+Down fell the untasted meat upon the ground, and his heart leaped to his
+lips, for surely something at last was stirring the waters! The oily
+surface had broken into circles; there was a movement, a little splash,
+a sudden vision of something black. A moment or two he sat breathlessly
+gazing; and then--was he asleep, or was he waking, and really saw
+it?--he saw above the water a black cat's head. Black head, black paws
+put out to swim, black back, black tail.
+
+Dermot took his bow up in his hand, and tried to fit an arrow to it; but
+his hand shook, and for a few moments he could not draw. Slowly the
+creature swam to the water's edge, and, reaching it, planted its feet
+upon the earth, and looked warily, with green, watchful eye, all round;
+then, shaking itself--and the water seemed to glide off its black fur as
+off a duck's back--it licked its lips, and, giving one great sweep into
+the air, it bounded forward to where the roasted pig was smoking on the
+ground. For a moment Dermot saw it, with its tail high in the air and
+its tongue stretched out to lick the crackling; and then, sharp and
+sure, whiz! went an arrow from his bow; and the next moment, stretched
+flat upon the ground, after one great dismal howl, lay the man-cat, or
+cat-man, with an arrow in his heart.
+
+Dermot sprang to his feet, and, rushing to the creature's side, caught
+him by the throat; but he was dead already; only the great, wide-opened,
+green, fierce eyes seemed to shoot out an almost human look of hatred
+and despair, before they closed forever. The young chieftain took up the
+beast, looked at it, and with all his might flung it from him into the
+lough; then turning round, he stretched his arms out passionately.
+
+"Eileen! Eileen!" he cried aloud; and as though that word had broken the
+spell, all at once--oh, wonderful sight!--the enchanted castle began to
+rise. Higher it rose and higher; one little turret first; then
+pinnacles and tower and roof; then strong stone walls; until, complete,
+it stood upon the surface of the lough like a strange floating ship. And
+then slowly and gently it drifted to the shore and, rising at the
+water's edge, glided a little through the air, and sank at last upon the
+earth, fixing itself firmly down once more where it had stood of old, as
+if its foundations never had been stirred through the whole of those
+three hundred years.
+
+With his heart beating fast, Dermot stood gazing as if he could never
+cease to gaze. It was a lovely summer day, and all the landscape round
+him was bathed in sunlight. The radiance shone all over the gray castle
+walls and made each leaf on every tree a golden glory. It shone on
+bright flowers blooming in the castle garden; it shone on human figures
+that began to live and move. Breathless and motionless, Dermot watched
+them. He was not close to them, but near enough to see them in their
+strange quaint dresses, passing to and fro, like figures that had
+started from some painted picture of a by-gone age. The place grew full
+of them. They poured out from the castle gates; they gathered into
+groups; they spread themselves abroad; they streamed out from the castle
+right and left. Did they know that they had been asleep? Apparently not,
+for each man went on with his natural occupation, as if he had but
+paused over it a minute to take breath. A hum of voices filled the air;
+Dermot heard strange accents, almost like those of an unknown tongue,
+mingled with the sound of laughter. Three hundred years had passed away,
+and yet they did not seem to know it; busily they went about their
+sports or labors--as calmly and unconsciously as if they never had been
+interrupted for an hour.
+
+And, in the midst of all, where was Eileen? The young chieftain stood
+looking at the strange scene before him, with his heart beating high and
+fast. He had killed the cat, he had broken the enchantment, he had
+awakened the castle from its sleep, but what was to come next? Did the
+prophecy, which said that a M'Swyne should do this, say also that, for
+doing it, he should be given a reward?
+
+Nay, it said nothing more. The rest was all a blank. But was there,
+then, to be no reward for him? Dermot stood suddenly erect and crushed
+down a certain faintness that had been rising in his heart. The
+prophecy, indeed, said nothing, but he would carve out the rest of his
+destiny for himself.
+
+And so he carved it out. He went straight through the unknown people to
+the castle garden and found--was it what he sought? He found a lady
+gathering flowers--a lady in a rich dress, with golden armlets,
+bracelets, and head-ornaments--such as are now only discovered in tombs.
+But she was not dead; she was alive and young. For she turned round,
+and, after his life's patient waiting, Dermot saw Eileen's face.
+
+And then--what more? Well, need I tell the rest? What ending could the
+story have but one? Of course he made her love him, and they married,
+and lived, and died. That was the whole. They were probably happy--I do
+not know. You may see the little lough still in that wild country of
+Donegal, and the deep dark waters that hid the enchanted castle beneath
+them for so many years. As for the castle itself--that, I think, has
+crumbled away; and the whole story is only a story legend--one of the
+pretty, foolish legends of the old times.
+
+
+THE END
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Note:
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation, as well as unusual words, have
+been retained as they appear in the original publication.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Cuckoo Clock, by Mrs. Molesworth
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CUCKOO CLOCK ***
+
+***** This file should be named 28619.txt or 28619.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        https://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/6/1/28619/
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kajsa Anderson and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  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
+https://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 https://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
+https://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 https://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 https://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 including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart was 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:
+
+     https://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.
diff --git a/28619.zip b/28619.zip
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..be42c96
--- /dev/null
+++ b/28619.zip
diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6312041
--- /dev/null
+++ b/LICENSE.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements,
+metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be
+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
+Procedures for determining public domain status are described in
+the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org.
+
+No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in
+jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize
+this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright
+status under the laws that apply to them.
diff --git a/README.md b/README.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..51d4afa
--- /dev/null
+++ b/README.md
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #28619 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28619)