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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Knock Three Times!, by Marion St John Webb.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45802 ***</div>
<div id="coverpage" class="figcenter">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="784" alt="Cover" />
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="frontis"></a>
<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="408" height="554" alt="Frontispiece" />
<p class="caption">IT WAS JACK, DAZED AND RUBBING HIS EYES</p>
</div>
<hr class="l1" />
<h1>
KNOCK THREE<br />
TIMES!
</h1>
<p class="tp1">
<i>BY</i><br /><br />
<span class="f14">MARION ST JOHN WEBB</span><br />
<span class="f7">AUTHOR OF ‘THE LITTLEST ONE’<br />
‘THE GIRLS OF CHEQUERTREES’ ‘ELIZ’BETH PHIL AND ME’<br />
ETC.</span>
</p>
<p class="tp1">
ILLUSTRATED BY<br />
<span class="f12">MARGARET W. TARRANT</span>
</p>
<div class="figlogo">
<img src="images/logo.png" width="90" height="85" alt="Logo" />
</div>
<p class="tp1">
<span class="f12">FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY</span><br />
NEW YORK AND LONDON
</p>
<hr class="l1" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
<tr>
<th>CHAPTER</th>
<th> </th>
<th>PAGE</th>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">I</td>
<td class="col2">Aunt Phœbe sends a Birthday Present</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">9</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">II</td>
<td class="col2">The Adventure Begins</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">14</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">III</td>
<td class="col2">The Other Side of the Tree</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">26</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">IV</td>
<td class="col2">Why Old Nancy Slept through the
Sunset Hour</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">38</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">V</td>
<td class="col2">Which Explains who is Inside the
Grey Pumpkin</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">44</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">VI</td>
<td class="col2">The Black Leaf</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">55</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">VII</td>
<td class="col2">Glan Opens the Gate in the
Nick of Time</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">69</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">VIII</td>
<td class="col2">Aunt Janet Puts on her Best Bonnet</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">84</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">IX</td>
<td class="col2">Planning the Search</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">99</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">X</td>
<td class="col2">Some One Meets Jack and Molly
in the Third Green Lane</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">114</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XI</td>
<td class="col2">Trapped</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">130</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XII</td>
<td class="col2">The Goblin’s Heath</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">143</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XIII</td>
<td class="col2">Timothy Gives Them a Clue</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">158</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XIV</td>
<td class="col2">Mr Papingay’s House in the
Orange Wood</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">169</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XV</td>
<td class="col2">Jack’s Misfortune</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">190</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XVI</td>
<td class="col2">Molly Accepts a Present</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">202</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XVII</td>
<td class="col2">A Warning</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">213</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XVIII</td>
<td class="col2">Molly Comes to Lake Desolate</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">230</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XIX</td>
<td class="col2">Molly Looks Through Miss Lydia’s
Window</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">241</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XX</td>
<td class="col2">What Happened Outside Old Nancy’s
Cottage</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">259</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XXI</td>
<td class="col2">The Grey Pumpkin’s Fate</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">272</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col1">XXII</td>
<td class="col2">The Impossible World Again</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">282</a></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<hr class="l1" />
<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
<tr>
<th> </th>
<th>PAGE</th>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">IT WAS JACK, DAZED AND RUBBING HIS EYES</td>
<td class="col3"><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">JACK AND MOLLY CLAMBERED OVER THE FENCE</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus01">20</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">THE LITTLE DWARF WAS LIFTED, STRUGGLING AND
SCREAMING</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus02">50</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">THE HUGE GATE SWUNG BACK</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus03">74</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">“DO HAVE ONE!”</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus04">124</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">ONE AND ALL WERE SIMPLY PAINTED PEOPLE</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus05">178</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">“THANK GOODNESS YOU <em>’AVE</em> WOKE UP!”</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus06">218</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="col4">QUICK AS THOUGHT, SHE STRUCK ONE OF OLD
NANCY’S MATCHES</td>
<td class="col3"><a href="#illus07">256</a></td>
</tr>
</table></div>
<hr class="l2" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a><br /><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p>
<p class="ttl"><i>KNOCK THREE TIMES!</i></p>
<h2 class="fst"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br />
<span class="stl">Aunt Phœbe sends a Birthday Present</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">This</span> story really begins with the arrival of
a brown paper parcel addressed to Molly,
but while the postman is bringing it along
the road, there may be just time to explain about Jack
and Molly’s birthday, so that you will understand
why Molly sat down to supper wishing earnestly that
silver bangles were considered useful and necessary
presents.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly were twins, and this was their
ninth birthday. Such a happy, exciting day it had
been; it <em>felt</em> like a birthday all day long, so you can
guess how jolly it was, and how special it made Jack
and Molly feel. Little did they guess what a weird
and mysterious end to the day was now approaching!</p>
<p>They had received a number of beautiful presents,
and, to their unbounded joy, a fine new bicycle
each from Mother and Father. But there was one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
particular thing that Molly had wanted for her
birthday, and that was a silver bangle.</p>
<p>“Like Mother’s,” she had told Jack, “only silver.
One that nearly slips off when I hang my hand down
and that I have to push back up my arm—and it
jingles.”</p>
<p>As there happened also to be one other thing
that Jack wanted specially, a box of paints, the two
children had decided some days ago to write to their
Aunt Phœbe, who always remembered their birthday,
and hint to her as delicately as possible what
the most acceptable presents would be. It had been
a forlorn hope for Molly, because Aunt Phœbe had
fixed ideas about useless and useful presents. Probably
she might consider a box of paints useful to
encourage Jack’s artistic leanings; but a bangle——!
Still, Molly sent her letter and hoped for the best.</p>
<p>On looking at Jack and Molly you would have
noticed at once that they both had the same kind
of brown, curly hair and the same frank expression
about the eyes; but while Molly’s eyes were brown,
and her face often wistful and dreamy, Jack’s eyes
were blue, and his expression alert and full of energy;
there was a certain reckless air about Jack....</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
<p>But the postman has reached their house, and
is handing in two brown paper parcels, and so the
story really begins.</p>
<p>“It’s Aunt Phœbe’s handwriting!” Jack exclaimed,
as he seized his parcel.</p>
<p>“Yours looks flat—like a paint-box, Jack,” said
Molly breathlessly, tugging at the string of her
parcel.</p>
<p>“Yours looks like something in a box too. Probably
it will be a bracelet,” Jack said encouragingly,
hoping that it would be, for he felt he should be
almost as disappointed as Molly if it wasn’t.</p>
<p>Jack was the first to vanquish strings and paper,
and with a yell of delight he tore the wrapper off
his parcel and disclosed a beautiful, shiny black
paint-box. For a few moments Mother and Father
and Jack were so engrossed in examining and admiring
the box that they did not notice that Molly
had unwrapped her parcel, until her intense quietness
was borne in upon them, and they all three
turned round.</p>
<p>Molly stood by the side of the table gazing tearfully
at a round, grey-looking thing half buried in
a mass of tissue paper.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
<p>“What is it, dear?” asked Mother, crossing over
to her side.</p>
<p>“It’s not——” began Molly, then stopped because
of an uncomfortable lump in her throat.</p>
<p>“Let me see,” said Mother, and she picked up
the grey thing and turned it over in her hands.
On the other side was pinned a slip of paper, on
which was written:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">For Molly</span></p>
<p class="noi"><i>Hoping she will be a good girl on her
birthday and have many happy returns.
I thought this useful little thing would
do for her dressing-table.</i></p>
<p class="sign">
<i>With love from</i> <span class="smcap">Aunt Phœbe</span><br />
</p>
</div>
<p>“Why, it’s a pincushion!” said Mother.</p>
<p>“What a beastly shame!” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Be quiet, Jack. It’s a very pretty one,” Mother
added consolingly.</p>
<p>“Funny shape, isn’t it?” queried Father.</p>
<p>“It’s—let me see—why, it’s the shape of a—what
do you call those things?—pumpkins. It’s
shaped like a pumpkin,” answered Mother.</p>
<p>“But it’s grey,” objected Father. “Why didn’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
they make it yellow or green while they were
about it?”</p>
<p>“I suppose Aunt Phœbe thought grey would keep
clean longer,” said Jack: “that’s why she chose it.”</p>
<p>Had Aunt Phœbe known when she bought ‘this
useful little thing’ what it Really Was—could she
have foreseen any of the mysterious happenings that
were to follow the arrival of her birthday present—she
would have preferred to send her niece half a
dozen of the most jingly silver bangles ever made;
for she disapproved of adventures in any shape or
form, even more than she disapproved of bangles.
Yet it was entirely through Aunt Phœbe that Jack
and Molly took part in the adventure of the Grey
Pumpkin at all.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br />
<span class="stl">The Adventure Begins</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> Molly went up to bed that night she
took the pincushion with her and placed
it on the dressing-table, and tried her
best to think that it looked nice. “It really will
be useful,” she told herself, and to prove this she
picked up a long pin and stuck it into the pumpkin
pincushion, though with a little more violence than
was necessary. Then she ran across the room and
tumbled into bed.</p>
<p>It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the moonbeams
streaming into the room made it almost as
light as day. Molly lay there snug, drowsily planning
out lovely rides that she and Jack would go
as soon as they had both learnt how to manage
their cycles; the thought of her bicycle sent a warm
thrill through her heart and a smile of content
hovering about her mouth.</p>
<p>She could hear Jack in the next room moving
noisily about; he always made a dreadful noise in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
his room, thumping and banging things down and
whistling shrilly, until he got into bed. And to-night
the extra excitement of having a birthday
seemed to make the thumping extra heavy and the
whistling extra shrill. Presently the thuds and
bumps and whistles ceased abruptly, and she knew
that Jack was in bed; and to be in bed and to be
asleep were practically the same thing with Jack.
No sooner did his head touch the pillow than he
was as good as asleep, and no sooner did he open
his eyes in the morning than he was out of bed
and hunting for his stockings. Sleep did not
come so readily to Molly. She would often lie
awake for a long time after she had gone to bed,
thinking and planning, her brain ticking busily.</p>
<p>Molly was just wondering whether it would be
possible for her and Jack to cycle to Brighton and
back in a day, and whether Mother would let them
go, when all at once she became aware that something
was moving in her room; a soft, rolling
sound came from the direction of the window.</p>
<p>Molly raised her head and gazed with startled
eyes across the moonlit room. She could see something
large and round moving softly on the dressing-table.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
It looked just as if—— Surely her eyes
were playing her some trick! She stared across
at the dressing-table, frightened, yet fascinated.
Then she sat up. No, her eyes had not deceived
her.</p>
<p>There, in front of the looking-glass, rocking
gently from side to side, was the pumpkin pincushion,
grown to nearly three times its original
size, and growing still larger every second.</p>
<p>Bigger and bigger it grew, until it had grown
almost as big round as the front wheel of Molly’s
bicycle; then it ceased rocking (and growing) and
remained still for a few seconds; then, rolling quietly
along the dressing-table and over the edge, it fell
with a dull thud to the floor. Across to the door
it rolled, bumped softly against it, and drew back
a few paces. Molly watched as the door swung
open, and the Grey Pumpkin passed out on to
the landing.</p>
<p>Molly was filled with amazement. What had
happened? What did it mean? She remained
quite still, hesitating for a moment. Then she
sprang out of bed. Her first fear had vanished,
leaving in its place an overwhelming curiosity—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
another feeling that she couldn’t define—she
just felt that she <em>must</em> follow the Pumpkin.</p>
<p>Her mind once made up, she felt perfectly calm
and collected; even collected enough to slip hastily
into some clothes and put on her little blue-and-white
frock and her outdoor shoes. Never before
in all her short life had Molly dressed so quickly.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the Grey Pumpkin was making its
way along the moonlit landing to the top of the
stairs. She heard it begin to descend—thud, thud—as
she whisked into Jack’s room.</p>
<p>“Jack! Jack!” she called in a loud whisper.
“Don’t be frightened; it’s only me—Molly. Hush!
Are you awake? Oh, Jack, hush!” as Jack uttered
a sound between a loud yawn and a groan. “Get
up quickly. It’s all right. Only do be quick,
quick!”</p>
<p>Jack sat up with a jerk.</p>
<p>“What is it? What’s the matter?” he exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Hush! Don’t make a sound or you’ll spoil
everything, p’raps. Put on some clothes, quickly,
and come with me. Oh, don’t ask questions, Jack,
but do be quick, and don’t make the slightest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
noise.” And Molly ran back to the landing and
listened. Thud, thud, thud, the Pumpkin was rolling
steadily and slowly from stair to stair, and,
judging by the sound, was already a long way down.
“Hurry, Jack,” said Molly.</p>
<p>It was easy for Jack to be quick, though not so
easy to refrain from asking questions, but to tell
him not to make the slightest noise was expecting
a little too much of him. However, he only bumped
twice against the water-jug and knocked his hair-brush
off the dressing-table and fell over a chair
before he was ready, and, all things considered, he
behaved in a very creditable manner.</p>
<p>Afterward, when thinking things over, Molly
was surprised at her own calmness in remembering
to tell him about clothes and being quiet; but remember
she did, and found herself explaining to
her brother as rapidly as possible just what had
happened.</p>
<p>“I know it sounds impossible, Jack,” she said,
“but it’s true, and you’ll see it yourself in a
minute.”</p>
<p>The two children sped quickly along the landing
and down the first flight of stairs, passing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
dark shadows into moonlit patches as they went by
landing windows, then back into the shadows again
and down another flight, and out into the moonlight
once more; so on and on, guided by the dull
thud, thud of the Pumpkin on the soft stair-carpet
below them.</p>
<p>As they reached the top of the last flight the
sound ceased.</p>
<p>“It’s reached the bottom,” whispered Molly.</p>
<p>Jack shook his head incredulously; he had not
seen the Pumpkin yet and could not believe it was
the sole cause of the bumping noise he had heard
on the stairs. When the noise ceased they hesitated
about continuing their descent. It was pitch-black
at the bottom of the last flight, and Molly thought
it would be so horrible if one of them put their foot
on that rolling grey thing in the dark.</p>
<p>As they waited they heard a slight bump—then
a streak of light appeared, and they saw the back
door swing quietly open. The Pumpkin—and Jack
could see plainly that it was a huge pumpkin—rolled
ponderously out, and the door began slowly to
close again.</p>
<p>“Quick!” gasped Molly; and the two sped down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
the last flight, and the next moment were standing
breathless outside the back door.</p>
<p>Their garden was long, and backed on to a
small wood (which had been the scene of many a
picnic during the summer months). A low, broken
fence divided the wood from the garden; and it was
for this fence that the Pumpkin was heading. It
rolled steadily on in a quiet, deliberate way that
made it the more uncanny.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly followed—two quaint little
figures, moving warily over the grass, with glistening
eyes and rapidly beating hearts, half fearful,
half curious, and very excited. Jack could scarcely
believe his eyes even now, and stared fascinated at
the moving grey thing in front of him, as it glided
under the broken fence and into the wood beyond.
As it gained the woodland path the sound of little
twigs and dried leaves crackling as it rolled over
them came to the children’s ears.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly clambered over the fence, and
in doing so Jack lost one of his slippers, but did
not miss it in his excitement, and they both ran
a few steps along the path to get in sight of the
Pumpkin again.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus01"></a>
<img src="images/illus01.jpg" width="408" height="552" alt="" />
<p class="caption">JACK AND MOLLY CLAMBERED OVER THE FENCE</p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
<p>It was not so easy to see in the wood, for the
trees met overhead and screened out the moonlight.
Here and there a stray beam penetrated, scattering
little pools of silver light on the ground; and each
time the Pumpkin passed into these pools of light
the children hastened their footsteps, but faltered
again each time it glided into the gloom, where it
was difficult to see and there was nothing save the
crackling of the twigs to guide them.</p>
<p>Suddenly Molly caught hold of her brother’s
arm, and they both stood still. The Pumpkin had
stopped in the dim light at the foot of a gigantic
old tree with a gnarled and twisted trunk. Watching
breathlessly, they saw it knock three times deliberately
and heavily against the bark, and then roll
back a few paces and wait.</p>
<p>There was a low, creaking sound, and the side
of the tree swung outward like a door; and the
Pumpkin passed in.</p>
<p>The door began slowly to close again. Jack and
Molly looked at each other. What should they do?
They both felt it was now or never.</p>
<p>“Now!” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Quick!” assented Molly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p>
<p>Like a flash they reached the door and slipped
through—just in time. It closed behind them with
a muffled thud, catching the sleeve of Jack’s coat as
it did so, and they found themselves in complete
darkness.</p>
<p>Their curiosity and excitement turned to sudden
fear when they heard the door close behind them,
and they stood quite still, with their backs pressed
hard against the interior of the tree-trunk, not daring
to move. A soft, familiar rolling sound could
be heard a short way in front of them. It ceased,
there was a short silence, then came three distinct
knocks, followed by a creaking noise, and another
door opened on the other side of the tree. As the
light crept into the interior of the tree the children
saw to their astonishment that it was not moonlight,
but daylight, the subdued light of evening.</p>
<p>A quick glance showed them the hollow interior
of the huge tree and the distance they were from
the open door. As they caught sight of the ground
they both gave a start, for it was composed solely
of half a dozen branches stretched across from side
to side, and beneath the branches was a big black
hole that went down and down and looked as if it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
had no bottom. They realized that they were standing
at the extreme edge of the hole, on a little step
of thick, sticky clay. However were they to walk
over on one of those thin branches to the door on
the other side without missing their footing and
falling down into the hole? But even as they caught
hold of hands, determined to make a desperate
effort to cross while there was light to see, the Grey
Pumpkin passed out into the daylight, and the door
swung slowly to again, and they were left in darkness
once more.</p>
<p>They stood stock still, not daring to move.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack, whatever shall we do?” said Molly,
almost crying.</p>
<p>“Knock on the door behind us and go back
home,” suggested Jack. “Let’s get out of this old
dark hole, and the Pumpkin can go where it jolly
well likes.... Leave go my arm a moment, Molly,
and I’ll turn round and knock.” He turned to suit
the action to his words, tearing the corner of his
sleeve out of the crack as he did so.</p>
<p>“But, Jack,” Molly said hurriedly. “Wait a
minute.... Somehow ... I’ve got a feeling that
we <em>ought</em> to go on, if only we could.... Don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
knock yet, Jack.... I feel as if somebody wants
us, through that door on the other side ... if only
we could get across. Oh, Jack, do be careful—you’ll
slip!”</p>
<p>“Look here,” said Jack, “are you afraid to
chance the crossing—do you really think it’s worth
it?”</p>
<p>“The Pumpkin must have rolled across without
the floor giving way—but then, it—he—I mean, what
shall we do, Jack?”</p>
<p>“Shall we try?” suggested Jack.</p>
<p>Molly hesitated. Then “Yes, let’s,” she said.
“Only—shall we?” she faltered.</p>
<p>“You stay here while I go across and knock
three times on the other door,” said Jack, at once
decided. “Then while it’s light you run across.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack, do be careful,” cried Molly.</p>
<p>For Jack had already started. He felt with his
foot for the thickest branch and stepped recklessly
forward. To his delight he found that it was quite
easy to walk across, and all their fears had been
groundless.</p>
<p>“Why, Moll,” he called joyfully, “it’s as easy
as anything. Wait a sec. I’m almost there.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
<p>He reached the clay step on the other side and
gave three good knocks to relieve his feelings.
With a low creaking the door opened slowly, and
as the light streamed in Molly ran quickly and
easily across, and the next moment they both stood
outside the tree, and the door was shut.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br />
<span class="stl">The Other Side of the Tree</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> two children gazed in astonishment at
the unfamiliar scene in front of them, for
here was a place they had never seen
before, and yet, apparently, a place within ten
minutes’ walk of their home—a place that led out
of the little wood at the end of their garden. And
they thought they knew every nook and corner of
that wood, and of the fields and lanes beyond for
several miles round their house. Yet here was a
place they had never seen before; and, more puzzling
still, the soft glow of evening and sunset had taken
the place of the moonlight and gloom which had
been all around them in the wood. For they were
still standing close to the same big old tree, but
instead of the wood continuing for a quarter of a
mile on, and ending at the edge of Farmer Hart’s
cornfields as it always <em>had</em> done, it ended abruptly
right in front of them, by the side of a broad white
road. This road stretched away to the left, up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
up a big hill. You could see it winding like a
white ribbon, bordered by the green and brown trees
of the woods that clustered on each side. And, at the
top of the hill, where the road ended, glistened the
white walls and roofs of a distant city. To the
right the road continued past the wood where the
children were standing, and sloped down, down, till
it was lost to sight in the burning crimson and
gold afterglow of the sunset.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly looked up the road and down
the road, but all was silent, and not a soul in sight.
Then a wisp of blue smoke among the trees on
the opposite side of the road caught their attention,
and they saw that it was curling from the
chimney of a snug little red-roofed cottage, which
nestled, half hidden, on the fringe of the wood
across the road.</p>
<p>The children looked at each other in bewilderment.
Then they turned and examined the giant
tree behind them, but that did not help them much.
It was certainly the same tree, but it was not the
same wood. Something queer had happened—it
did not seem to be even the same country. They
looked up and down the road again, and behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
them and before them—and listened. But all was
silent. Their eyes wandered back to the curling
blue smoke, the only sign of life within sight.</p>
<p>“Better ask some one where we’ve got to,” said
Jack, eyeing the smoke.</p>
<p>“But where’s IT gone?” began Molly, then
broke off quickly. “Hush! What’s that!” she
said.</p>
<p>She plucked Jack’s sleeve and drew him into the
shadow of the trees. A distant sound of voices
came floating through the still evening air. There
were evidently two speakers, for, as the sounds drew
nearer the children could hear a high, loud, jolly
voice, flowing continuously, and punctuated every
now and then by a low, mumbling voice. After
a few seconds the words of the high-voiced speaker
became distinguishable.</p>
<p>“Stuff and nonsense!” it cried shrilly. “Pull
yourself together, Father. Come now, come now,
snap your fingers in its face! Laugh at it, I say,
and—tss——” The speaker made a little hissing
noise. “Where is it?”</p>
<p>The other voice here murmured some reply too
low for the children to catch.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
<p>“What’s that?” replied the first speaker. “No—not
<em>you</em>. But I’ll tell you what will happen, you’ll
be having an attack of <span class="nobreak">melancholia——”</span></p>
<p>“Oh, not that, not that!” The low voice was
raised and pleading. “Don’t talk of melons, Glan,
don’t, I pray you. They make me think of those
lemons—and the—<span class="nobreak">and——”</span></p>
<p>“Now don’t you think of that any more,” ordered
the high voice. “Come, come, come. Pull yourself
together....”</p>
<p>The speakers became visible, wending their way
through the wood in which the children were standing.
One was a young, fat, rosy-cheeked man, with
a jolly smile, wearing a white overall and white
baker’s cap; he was clean-shaven, and was the
possessor of the high voice. His companion was
a striking contrast to him, being old and thin and
pale, with a long white beard; he was dressed in a
rich, dark-coloured robe, and had a number of keys
dangling from his belt. They pulled up short when
they caught sight of Jack and Molly; then advanced
slowly, with sidelong glances at each other and low
whispers.</p>
<p>Molly stepped forward.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>
<p>“If you please,” she said, very politely, “could
you tell us where we are?”</p>
<p>“Could you tell us <em>who</em> you are, little lady?—that’s
more to the point,” said the young man
pleasantly.</p>
<p>“I’m Molly, and this is my brother Jack,” the
little girl replied; which did not enlighten the young
man very much.</p>
<p>The old man gazed at them with his small, dull
eyes, and ran his fingers nervously through his
beard.</p>
<p>“We’ve only just come—through that tree,”
volunteered Jack, pointing to the giant tree behind
them.</p>
<p>“Through the tree!” exclaimed the old man and
the young man together.</p>
<p>“Then you are from the Impossible World,”
added the young man in an excited, high voice.</p>
<p>“We live in England,” said Jack with dignity.</p>
<p>“That may be. I don’t know England. But
if it lies on the other side of that Tree it is in the
Impossible World.”</p>
<p>“Why do you call it that?” asked Molly.</p>
<p>“Because that’s its name in our geography<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
books. This is the Possible World, and always was—except——”
The young man glanced at the old
man, who turned his head aside.</p>
<p>“Don’t speak of that,” groaned the old man.</p>
<p>“Cheer up, Father,” cried the young man. “Pull
yourself together now. Snap your fingers and—tss—it
is gone, remember.” And he beamed encouragingly
down at the thin little old man beside him,
who only looked more depressed than ever at his
son’s efforts to cheer him up.</p>
<p>“But how is it we’ve played in this wood—I
mean that wood—ever so many times and never found
our way here before?” inquired Jack.</p>
<p>“Because though you’ve walked <em>round</em> that tree
many times you’ve never come <em>through</em> it before,”
said the young man. “There are two sides to every
tree, just as there are two sides to every question.
When you ‘walk round’ a question, do you see both
its sides? No. It is only if you go <em>into</em> a question
that you see this side and that. Well, then—when
you only walked round that tree it stands to sense
that you couldn’t find yourself here. But when
you go into the tree—tss”—he threw out his hand—“behold!
here you are. It’s perfectly simple.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
<p>It certainly sounded sensible and quite simple
as the young man explained it, but Jack and Molly
still felt rather mystified.</p>
<p>“But <em>why</em> do you call ours the Impossible
World?” asked Jack.</p>
<p>“Because it’s full of impossible things,” replied the
young man. “Impossible people, impossible ideas,
impossible laws, impossible houses, there is so much
impossible misery and injustice, and impossible talk,
that it’s quite impossible for any possible creature to
live in it. On the other hand, this land (which is the
other side of yours) is the Possible World now; for
a time it was Impossible, but we sent——” Here
the old man winced. “I’m sorry, Father. But you
must let me tell the little lady and her brother where
they are. I know. You go and sit down under that
tree, and think of buttercups.”</p>
<p>“But they’re the colour of lemons,” whined the
old man feebly.</p>
<p>“Not all of them—think of the ones that
aren’t. There; run along. I shan’t be two minutes
explaining.”</p>
<p>And he patted his father on the shoulder as the
old man shuffled across the leaves to the foot of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
tree some yards away, where he sat down, and remained
shaking his head and looking on the ground,
mumbling to himself, while the young man explained
the cause of his depression to Jack and Molly.</p>
<p>“It’s this way!” he began, after glancing over
his shoulder to make sure his Father couldn’t hear.
“For hundreds of years this has been the Possible
World, because it was possible for everyone in it to
be happy. But there came a time when an evil
influence crept into the land and made it Impossible.
It was through this evil Thing that my
Father, who was one of the King’s Advisers, lost
his place at Court. The whole country was under
a cloud. Then, Old Nancy—she lives in the cottage
yonder”—he pointed to the little red-roofed
cottage with the smoke curling from the chimney,
on the opposite side of the road—“Old Nancy, she
discovered a spell, and she saved us—she banished
the evil Thing to the Impossible World and our
world became Possible again. Lately, my Father
has been afflicted with dreams that he says always
come to him before trouble overtakes the country,
and he fears by some mishap that the country may
become Impossible again.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p>
<p>“What does he dream of?” inquired Molly.</p>
<p>“Lemons,” said the young man; “and do what
I can I cannot shake him out of the gloom into
which he has fallen.... It’s strange,” the young man
continued, “but poor old Father seems the only
person who did not cheer up when the World became
Possible again. It was a nasty shock for him,
being banished from Court; and although they’ve
taken him back and given him another post—I suppose
he’s getting old. And then those dreams——”
Glan’s face became serious for a moment. “However,
they mean nothing, I’m sure. And now you are
here you’d like to see our Possible Country, wouldn’t
you? I’m afraid as you are from the Impossible
World you’ll have to get a Pass before you can come
into the City—but that’ll be all right. You must come
and have tea with us. I opened a little baker’s and
pastry-cook’s business when Father lost his place at
Court, and I still keep it up—fascinating work, making
puff pastry and currant buns. I run a special line
in gooseberry-jam puffs. I used to do a lovely line in
lemon cheese-cakes, but I’ve had to leave them off
since Father’s had those dreams. He can’t bear to
be reminded——” He stopped, a little out of breath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
<p>“We’d love to come up to the City; where can
we get a Pass?” said Molly.</p>
<p>“But, I say, what about that thing we were
following,” broke in Jack, suddenly remembering
what it was they had followed through the tree;
the interest of meeting their new acquaintances had
made the children forget for a few minutes. “We’d
forgotten, hadn’t we, Molly? We were really following
a Pumpkin, you know,” he said, turning to
the young man.</p>
<p>“A what!” and the young man’s voice rose to a
shriek, and his eyes grew round.</p>
<p>“A Pumpkin,” faltered Jack, a little dismayed,
“A Grey Pumpkin.”</p>
<p>“Father! Father! It’s come back,” shouted the
young man, wheeling round excitedly.</p>
<p>“Come back!” repeated the old man, rising to
his feet and stumbling toward them. “Come back!
What has come back? Not the—<span class="nobreak">not——”</span></p>
<p>“The Pumpkin,” gasped Glan, his fat, jolly face
pale and his hands trembling.</p>
<p>“Oh, my heart and soul,” cried the old man, his
eyes wild with fear, wringing his hands together.
“What did I warn you! What did I warn you!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
I said those lemons meant trouble. Oh, my heart
and soul, what shall we do!”</p>
<p>The father and son stared wildly into each other’s
eyes for a second.</p>
<p>“What shall we do, Glan? What shall we
do?” the old man quavered, shaking from head to
foot.</p>
<p>“Where has the Pumpkin gone?” asked Glan,
turning to the children.</p>
<p>“We don’t know,” said Molly, frightened at the
distress of the two men. “It came through the
tree before us, we followed it, and by the time we got
through it had disappeared.”</p>
<p>“I must go and spread the alarm. I must go
and warn. Oh, my heart and soul!” the old man
sobbed, and turning, he stumbled out on to the white
road and waddled rapidly up the hill toward the
walls of the city, mumbling and chattering and
sobbing to himself, the keys at his belt jangling a
dismal accompaniment.</p>
<p>“If it’s back, then the country will be Impossible
again,” groaned Glan. “It was through the
Grey Pumpkin that it became Impossible before.
But just tell me quickly—how did it happen? What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
do you know about the Pumpkin, and where did you
first see it?”</p>
<p>The children explained as quickly as they could,
while Glan stood nodding his head and glancing
every other second over his shoulder at the receding
figure of his father.</p>
<p>“I wondered how you discovered the three knocks
on the tree,” he muttered. “It can only be done
when the moon is full, you know. You didn’t know?
I thought you might have discovered it accidentally,
when you were playing, p’raps. Somebody from the
Impossible World did that before—many years ago.
Well, go on.”</p>
<p>The children finished their story.</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s the Pumpkin right enough,” said Glan.
“Now what can have happened. Old Nancy must
have forgotten the usual sunset spell.... No, no,
she’d never forget ... she’s never forgotten. There
must be foul play somewhere. We must go to her
at once and see what’s happened. Come!”</p>
<p>And followed by the two children he hurriedly
crossed the road to the little cottage opposite, and
rapped loudly with his knuckles on the door.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br />
<span class="stl">Why Old Nancy Slept through the
Sunset Hour</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">There</span> was no sound from within the cottage,
and the three waited impatiently for a
second or two, then Glan rapped again more
loudly. The sound of his knuckles against the little
brown door rang sharp and clear in the quiet of the
evening. They waited. Glan called “Nancy!” and
“Is any one in?” but as there was still no answer he
lifted the latch, and discovered that the door was
unbolted. He pushed it open.</p>
<p>They found themselves in an old-fashioned, low-ceilinged
room, full of shadows cast by the flickering
firelight. The trees outside the house excluded the
faint sun-glow, so that the room was dim and nothing
could be clearly defined in the farther corners. A
quaint red-brick fireplace took up nearly one side of
the room, and in a chair by the hearth there sat a
huddled-up figure.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
<p>“Nancy! Old Nancy!” said Glan, breathlessly,
stepping further into the room. “What’s the matter,
Nancy?”</p>
<p>The figure remained motionless. He bent over
it, shaking it gently by the shoulder.</p>
<p>“There’s something queer about this. By
thunder!” he exclaimed, peering closer. “She ...
No, she’s not ... she’s breathing!” He stood back
and gazed at the sleeping figure earnestly. “It’s not
a natural sleep, though. I don’t like it at all. If
I’m not greatly mistaken the Grey Pumpkin has had
something to do with this.”</p>
<p>“What shall we do?” said Molly, in an awed
whisper.</p>
<p>“If it is any way possible, we <em>must</em> wake her
somehow. Nancy! Nancy! Wake up!” cried Glan,
and he shook her arm again; there was such despair
in his voice that the children took courage to move
toward the sleeping Nancy to try and help him.</p>
<p>The light from the fire shed a dull red glow
over Old Nancy, and looking at her Molly thought
she had the sweetest face she had ever seen. Though
much wrinkled, her skin was clear and her expression
full of kindliness and quiet strength. Her hair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
was pure white and peeped out from beneath a
snowy mob cap.</p>
<p>“Oh, do please wake up,” said Molly, laying her
hand on Old Nancy’s lap.</p>
<p>Old Nancy stirred, turned her head from side to
side and gave a great sigh; then she slowly opened
her eyes. Her gaze travelled from Molly to Jack,
and then on to Glan. She sat up. Then passed
her hand across her eyes and stared, dazed, in front of
her for a moment. Her glance came back to Molly.</p>
<p>“Who are you?” she said, in a low voice. “And
what’s the matter?”</p>
<p>It was Glan who answered.</p>
<p>“The sun has set,” he said gravely, “and you
were asleep.”</p>
<p>With a cry Old Nancy started to her feet.</p>
<p>“No, no, Glan; it can’t be true!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, what have I done! What have I done! It
cannot be sunset yet.”</p>
<p>She crossed hurriedly to the window and peered
through. A glance at the darkening countryside
was sufficient. She turned away, and creeping
back to her chair sank into it and buried her face in
her hands.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>
<p>There was a dead silence in the room. A cinder
fell out of the fire on to the red hearth.</p>
<p>“Well, well.” Glan cleared his throat and tried
to speak cheerfully. “What isn’t well must be made
well, you know. No good crying over spilt milk,
Old Nancy. Come, come, snap your fingers at adversity,
you know. We must all put our heads
together and see what we can do. What’s the best
thing to do first?” he smiled bravely, and Jack and
Molly took heart and things looked brighter, although
they scarcely knew what all the trouble meant.</p>
<p>“Is it back then?” asked Old Nancy, raising her
head.</p>
<p>“The Pumpkin?—yes, it’s back,” said Glan.</p>
<p>“Then there’s not a moment to be lost,” said Old
Nancy firmly, and with an effort she pulled herself
together and sat up straight.</p>
<p>“How did it happen—your going to sleep?”
inquired Glan.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” said Old Nancy, with a puzzled
frown. “Never have I missed doing the spell at
sunset. I think I must have been ... drugged.
The Pumpkin must still have a few followers in
the country—perhaps one of them drugged me—but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
I don’t know how they did it, they must have chosen
the opportunity carefully, so that I fell asleep just
before sunset.... I remember looking out and
seeing the sun about half an hour before sunset
time: and then I sat down for a few minutes ...
and I don’t remember anything more. When did
the Pumpkin come back?”</p>
<p>“About half an hour ago,” said Glan.</p>
<p>“He came through the tree,” said Jack, “and we
followed him.”</p>
<p>“You are from the Impossible World, then,”
murmured Old Nancy, “where I sent the Pumpkin.
But now—this will be the Impossible World again
soon, I fear, unless——” She looked earnestly into
the faces of the two children, then she smiled faintly.
“Will you stay and help us,” she asked. “Help us
to make our world Possible again?”</p>
<p>“We’ll stay. Rather!” began Jack.</p>
<p>“Only—only—what about Mother?” Molly interrupted.</p>
<p>“I will tell you the history of the Pumpkin first
of all,” said Old Nancy; “and then you shall decide
whether you will stay and help us, or go home. If
you decide to stay I will see that your Mother is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
not made anxious about you, until your work is
finished and you return to her. But, meanwhile,
Glan, what are you going to do?”</p>
<p>“Father has already gone to arouse the City,” said
Glan. “I think I will follow him and see what I
can do; then I will come back and see what the little
lady and her brother have decided. But before they
can do a thing they must hear the Pumpkin’s story
from you.”</p>
<p>So saying he took off his cap with a flourish and
opened the door.</p>
<p>“Keep up heart. Laugh at misfortune, remember,
and—tss—— We shall win!” he cried, his fat face
all a-smile; and he was gone.</p>
<p>“Sit down on the rug,” said Old Nancy, “and tell
me, first of all, what you know about the Pumpkin,
and then I will tell you why it is the Pumpkin is so
dreaded in our country, and how he came to be what
he is.”</p>
<p>So Jack and Molly sat down on the rug, and after
relating what they knew of the Pumpkin and how
they happened to come across him, they listened
while Old Nancy told them the following story,
fascinated by her low, sweet voice, and her kind eyes.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br />
<span class="stl">Which Explains who is Inside the
Grey Pumpkin</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper"><span class="hide">“</span>Long</span> ago,” began Old Nancy, gazing dreamily
into the fire, “a great King ruled over this
country who had an only daughter to whom
he was passionately attached. She was a sweet, frail
little creature—very delicate. In spite of all the
care and attention bestowed upon her, she grew no
stronger; indeed, as time passed, she seemed to
grow weaker and weaker, until at length it became
obvious to all that the Princess was dying.
The King was in despair. All that love, money,
doctors, and nurses could do for her was done—but
all in vain.</p>
<p>“Then, one evening, someone found a shabby old
book at the back of a shelf in the Royal Library.
To whom it belonged and how it got there no one
seemed to know, but anyway, the book proved of
priceless value as it contained a remarkable recipe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
for curing just such an illness as the Princess was
suffering from. I need not tell you all about this
recipe now: it is sufficient that one of the most
important items was—pumpkin juice. Needless to
say, the King seized eagerly at any chance to save
his daughter’s life, and so all the pumpkins available
were quickly purchased and the recipe made
up, and a dose of this new cure was given to the
Princess. From the very first dose there was a
marked change for the better, and with perseverance
this new remedy gradually worked wonders in the
Princess; she grew stronger and stronger and was
soon on the road to a complete recovery.</p>
<p>“And then——</p>
<p>“But first you must know that in order to have
plenty of pumpkins on hand to complete the cure,
the delighted King had a special garden made in
which to grow nothing but pumpkins; and he
employed a special staff of gardeners to look after
this garden. And every day he would go to the
garden himself to see how the pumpkins were getting
on. One night, a fearful storm swept over the
country; and while the thunder growled and the
lightning flashed and the wind and rain struggled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
for mastery—some strange things were taking place
down in the pumpkin garden. For when morning
broke—there was not a single pumpkin left in the
garden: nor in the whole of the country, apparently.
But it was not the storm that had destroyed them
all. Under cover of the black night and the storm
somebody had come and had deliberately cut off the
pumpkins, and destroyed them.</p>
<p>“Now this somebody—although he was not discovered
for days afterward—was an evil little dwarf
man, who imagined that he owed the King a grudge—and
sought to punish him this way.</p>
<p>“Nor was this all. When the Princess’s nurse
went to fetch her medicine—there was none left. All
the bottles were smashed to pieces and the precious
liquid was spilled all over the floor.</p>
<p>“The King was terribly upset, and sent messengers
far and wide, post haste, to try to get some
more pumpkins. But they could not get any. And
from that time, as each hour passed, the Princess
began to decline again. She got steadily worse,
and weaker and weaker as days went by. You can
imagine what grief it must have been to her father
to see her losing her newly-gained health, to see her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
cheeks growing pale and thin again—to see her
gradually fading away. He made every attempt
possible to get hold of a pumpkin—but it seemed
as if all the pumpkins in the land had suddenly
vanished.</p>
<p>“At length the Princess lay at death’s door; the
doctors gravely shook their heads at each other;
while the King paced ceaselessly up and down the
corridor outside her room. He was waiting thus,
torn with anxiety and suspense, when a messenger
arrived at the palace with a note for the King, which
contained the news that a pumpkin had been found!
The owner of the pumpkin would give it up to no
one but the King himself (the note continued).
Would his Majesty kindly walk down into a
certain part of the City, and go to a certain house
(the address was given), where he would be met by
someone who would place the pumpkin in the Kings
hands. The King, wondering why the person who
had the pumpkin did not hasten with it to the palace,
nevertheless did not wait to question, but went at
once to the house down in the City.</p>
<p>“It was a quaint, stubby little house; and inside
he found a little dwarf man. (The King did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
know at the time that this was the person who had
destroyed the pumpkin garden on the night of the
storm.) Anyway, the dwarf began immediately to
pour out some of the grievances that he imagined
he had against the King. And then he discovered
that the King was not to blame at all. There was
some sort of muddle and misunderstanding, and one
of the grievances the King had never even heard
about. When the dwarf realized that he had endangered
the Princess’s life for no reason, that it
had all been a mistake, and that he had no cause
at all for the spiteful and wicked thing he had done,
he got unreasonably angry (as people often do
when they have wronged someone who hasn’t deserved
it). And so the dwarf fell to blaming and
cursing the King, and finally tried to make a bargain
with him concerning the pumpkin, which he had
hidden, he said, refusing to disclose its hiding-place
until his demands were granted. The King, whose
sole idea was to get the pumpkin as quickly as
possible, first pleaded, then commanded the dwarf
to fetch the pumpkin immediately: he was willing
to give any price for his daughter’s sake. But still
the dwarf haggled and delayed, until the King lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>
all patience and a fierce quarrel ensued. In the
midst of their quarrel there came the clattering of
horses’ hoofs on the cobbled road without, and then
someone rapped at the door of the dwarfs house.
The angry voices within ceased, and in the silence
that followed a bell could be heard tolling. And
the King learnt that his daughter was dead.</p>
<p>“He returned to the palace, telling the messengers
to arrest the dwarf, and place him in the
palace dungeon. ‘For I shall hold you responsible
for my daughter’s death,’ said the King.</p>
<p>“Afterward, when the whole story of the dwarf’s
treachery became public, it was discovered that he
had not been alone on the night of the storm: others
had helped him to destroy the pumpkins: it would
have been impossible for him to make such a clean
sweep of all the pumpkins in the countryside by himself.
It had been a carefully organized plan, of which
the dwarf was the ringleader and originator. But
none of the others were half so blameworthy as the
dwarf; they obeyed his orders without knowing his
motives, and did not realize the mischief they were
doing was so serious. One or two of them were
arrested and received light punishments; some the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
authorities could not find. But the gravest offender
was the dwarf, of course, and for him was reserved
the heaviest punishment.</p>
<p>“And this was his punishment. The pumpkin
that was found hidden in his garden, the last remaining
pumpkin in the country, was brought to
the palace, and with the help of a little magic the
dwarf was shut up <em>inside</em> the pumpkin—where he
remains to this day.</p>
<p>“They say that when the dwarf found what his
fate was to be, he got very enraged and vowed
that if this punishment was carried out, he would
make the King and his people rue it, and suffer for it
for ever and ever.</p>
<p>“His threat was laughed at, and the punishment
duly carried out. About that time a weird
old magician happened to pass through the country,
and his aid was secured to help with the punishment.
He made a spell, and the big yellow pumpkin
slowly opened—like a yawn—of its own accord.
The little dwarf was lifted, struggling and screaming,
and placed in the centre; the magician waved
his hands and the pumpkin closed to again. The
magician waved his hands again, and a curious grey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
shade crept over the pumpkin; and it is this grey
shade that keeps the dwarf imprisoned. He might
force his way out—perhaps even <em>eat</em> his way out,
who knows—if the pumpkin were still yellow. The
grey is part of the magic.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus02"></a>
<img src="images/illus02.jpg" width="409" height="554" alt="" />
<p class="caption">THE LITTLE DWARF WAS LIFTED, STRUGGLING AND SCREAMING</p>
</div>
<p>“Well, the King then called a council of Wise
Men together, to consider what should be done with
the Grey Pumpkin. Some were for keeping it in
a museum (and charging a fee of 6d. for visitors to
go and look at it); while others advised burying
it away in the deepest dungeon of the City, just in
case the dwarf ever got out of the Pumpkin; while
a third section of the Council, deriding the two
former suggestions, urged that the Grey Pumpkin
be flung into a ditch beside the High Road, outside
the City Gates. The spokesman for this last
section was a brilliant, reckless young man, an
eloquent speaker; he laughed at the caution which
prompted the first two parties to suggest a museum
or a dungeon, and looked upon the latter as a grave
reflection on the Magician who had so kindly come
to their aid. Did they not trust in the spell which
kept the Pumpkin tightly closed? he asked the
Council. And besides, what person, dwarf, man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
woman, or child, would be alive after being shut
up in a Pumpkin for twenty-four hours? No, let
them show their scorn for the thing by flinging it
away, outside the walls of their City.</p>
<p>“Much more than this did the young man say,
and in the end he gained his way. The Grey
Pumpkin was carried to the gates of the City,
escorted by a solemn procession, and thrown into
a ditch outside the walls, amid much hissing and
booing from the populace. The young Councillor
who had suggested all this got carried away by
the excitement of the moment, and he dashed forward
and gave the Grey Pumpkin that was lying
quietly at the bottom of the ditch a good hearty
kick: this act was greeted with cheers and shouts
of approval from the crowd, until they saw that
the Pumpkin, which had been sent spinning, had
landed on the High Road, a dozen yards away, and
was slowly rolling down the hill. The crowd fell
silent, and watched. On, on the Grey Pumpkin
rolled, down the hill from the City, past my cottage
door—I remember—on, on, until it disappeared at
length into a dark forest right down at the bottom
of the High Road.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
<p>“And after that, all our troubles began. The
dwarf kept his vow, and made us suffer. Somewhere,
down in that dark forest, he got hold of
some black magic—no one knows how, or who
helped him. All we know is that since that time
he has become possessed of certain magic powers,
and that one misfortune after another has overtaken
our country—all caused by the Pumpkin. Wherever
he goes he makes misery and mischief: I cannot
tell you all the horrible things he has done, he and
his little band of followers—those faithful few who
helped him in the beginning to destroy the pumpkins,
you remember. They went right over to his side
after they were punished, and he seemed to gain
some evil influence over them. There are not
many of them, but they are in all parts of the
country, ready to help him when he needs them.
And with his knowledge of magic he could so
disguise them that we could not recognize them.
But they are powerless without him, and when after
suffering him for a long time (because we could
not find a way to escape him) we finally discovered a
way of banishing the Grey Pumpkin out of our World
into your World where he could do no harm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
his followers became practically harmless, until
to-day.</p>
<p>“That is the story of how the Grey Pumpkin
came to be what he is. The King, whom he hated,
has been dead many years and another King reigns
in his stead. And the young Councillor, the
eloquent young Councillor who advised the people
so unwisely, was banished from Court; he has grown
old and timid and querulous, and is a disappointed
man whose career was blighted at the outset
through the Pumpkin. You have seen this once
reckless, dashing young man; you met him just now
in the wood. He is Glan’s father.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br />
<span class="stl">The Black Leaf</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper"><span class="hide">“</span>What</span> dreadful things the Pumpkin must
do,” said Molly, “to make every one so
frightened of him.”</p>
<p>“He does do dreadful things,” said old Nancy.</p>
<p>“What a mean revenge—on innocent people,”
Jack commented.</p>
<p>“And the worst part of it is,” Old Nancy continued,
“that no one knows how much evil power
he has, nor what he can do to them if he likes.
He evidently has his limits, for there seem to be
some things that he cannot do: for instance, he
cannot roll along quickly—he always moves at the
same slow pace; and he cannot climb up walls or
trees, though he can roll up hills. So as long as
you keep out of his reach he cannot hurt you.”</p>
<p>“If he never comes out of the Pumpkin—the little
Dwarf—what does he do when he catches any one?”
inquired Molly.</p>
<p>“Just rolls up to them and touches them—bumps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
against them softly—and then—something queer happens
to them. Perhaps they are changed into some
strange animal, or maybe they shrink until they are
only a few inches high, or suddenly they find they
have lost their nose or their eyesight—or worse things
than these may happen. The misery caused by the
Pumpkin is unthinkable; and more often than not—incurable.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” shuddered Molly. “Well, however did
you manage to get rid of him?—to send him into
our World?”</p>
<p>“I was just going to tell you about that,” said
Old Nancy. There was a moment’s pause, then,
“I am a kind of magician, you know,” she went on.
The children glanced quickly up at her, startled at
her words, but her gentle face reassured them as she
smiled kindly down. “And being a kind of magician
I discovered a spell that would send the Pumpkin out
of our country into the Impossible World. So I
turned him into a pincushion, a grey pincushion, and
transported him into your World, where I thought
he could do no harm; and you know what happened
there. I believed we were rid of him for ever, and
we would have been—but for me. It was part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
spell that every evening at sunset I should stand
with my face turned to the sinking sun, and, making
a certain sign with my arms outstretched, should
repeat some magic words. As long as I did this each
evening the Pumpkin could not come back, and our
country was safe. But I knew that if I chanced to
be a minute after sunset any evening the spell which
bound the Pumpkin would break, and he would
return to us.” A sorrowful look came over Old
Nancy’s face. “And to-night,” she said, “I failed to
say the magic words at sunset—and he has come back.
I am certain it is one of the Pumpkin’s followers
who has foiled me; though how—I do not know.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you use the spell and turn him into a
pincushion again?” asked Jack.</p>
<p>“No,” said Old Nancy, shaking her head. “That
spell could only be used once, and once only; and I
know no others.”</p>
<p>“Then however can we——” began Jack.</p>
<p>“Patience,” said Old Nancy. “There is one way
of thwarting the Pumpkin which everybody in our
country knows of. But they can’t do it, because
they can’t find the Black Leaf.... You must
know that when the little dwarf was thrust into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
the Pumpkin, the plant in the dwarf’s garden on
which the Pumpkin had grown, immediately turned
black. For thirteen days it remained so, bearing
one solitary giant leaf—then, all at once it
vanished! And now, each year it comes up in a
different part of the country—just this one immense
Black Leaf—and it remains for thirteen days, and
then it disappears again. We have not looked for
it these last few years—there has been no need:
still, some people have seen it. But now we want
it badly. For if you can find the Black Leaf, and
pluck it, you have but to turn your face to the
West and say some words (which I can tell you)
and wherever the Pumpkin is he will be compelled
to come to you: then you must touch him with
the Leaf and—you have him in your power. We
were in despair before, when no one could find the
Black Leaf, until I discovered that spell. And now,
as I know no other spell we shall be in despair till
someone does find the Black Leaf. And that is
what I want you both to stay and help us do.
Strangers are often lucky.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we <em>must</em> stay and help,” cried Jack, impulsively,
“mustn’t we, Molly?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
<p>“I should love to,” said Molly, “but couldn’t
we just let Mother know so that she wouldn’t be
anxious?”</p>
<p>“If you decide to stay,” said Old Nancy, “I will
take care that your Mother is not worried in any way
by your absence. I will send a message to her.”</p>
<p>“Then we’ll stay,” decided both children at once.</p>
<p>“I am so glad,” Old Nancy said simply. “And
now, if either of you should be lucky enough to find
the Black Leaf remember what to do. Pluck it immediately,
and stand with your face toward the
West, and say: ‘Come to me, Grey Pumpkin! I
command you by the Black Leaf!’ ... You can
remember that?”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly repeated it to make sure, and then
Old Nancy went on,</p>
<p>“When the Pumpkin appears—as he must appear—rolling
toward you, touch him with the Leaf,
quickly, before he can touch you. Then he cannot
harm you, but will be compelled to follow you
wherever you lead him.”</p>
<p>“And where should we lead him?” asked Molly.</p>
<p>“Bring him to me,” said Old Nancy grimly.</p>
<p>“There was something I wanted to ask you,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
Jack, “and I can’t think what it was now.... Oh,
I know.... Does the Pumpkin know where the
Black Leaf is?”</p>
<p>“We are not quite sure about that, but even if
he does, it is evidently of no use to him; I mean, he
dare not <em>touch</em> it—that would be fatal to him. But
he can guard it, if he knows where it is, and try to
prevent you getting it: and this is what he will try to
do whether he knows where it is or not; he is sure to
try to delay you or trap you, as soon as he discovers
that you are searching for the Leaf. And he will
soon know what you are trying to do—one of his
followers will tell him, you may be sure. So, beware
of the Pumpkin and his little band of people.
You are in less danger of being caught by the
Pumpkin than you are by one of his band, because
you will know the Pumpkin when you see him, but
you won’t know which are his decoys, his spies, and
which are not. And I can’t help you about this, you
must simply be very, very careful, and do not trust
anyone until you are sure. Of course, people like
Glan and his father, or anyone inside the City, are
quite all right—because nobody will be allowed
within the City Gates now without a pass; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
they cannot get a pass, if they are one of the
Pumpkin’s people.”</p>
<p>“Mightn’t one of the Pumpkin’s people find the
Leaf?” inquired Jack.</p>
<p>“They dare not touch it either, even if they do
know where it is,” replied Old Nancy. “But they
can guard it—as the Pumpkin can.”</p>
<p>“If the Black Leaf only appears for thirteen days
each year, how do you know which thirteen days they
are?” asked Molly, thoughtfully.</p>
<p>“Because the thirteen days start on the anniversary
of the day on which the little dwarf was put inside
the Pumpkin,” said Old Nancy. “And, as fate decrees,
it was the anniversary yesterday, <em>so the Black
Leaf is somewhere above ground now</em>.... Oh, I do
hope and trust you will be successful, my dears.” Old
Nancy clasped her hands together nervously. “And
don’t be ashamed to <em>run</em> if the Pumpkin tries to catch
you before the Leaf is found. You are powerless
against him and his magic—until you have the Leaf.
But he can only use his magic and hurt you if he
touches you, remember. So don’t let him touch
you!”</p>
<p>“We’ll <em>run</em> all right, if we see him coming,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
said Jack. “Or else we’ll climb up a tree or something.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s a good idea, too,” said Old Nancy.</p>
<p>“I suppose it’s really a rather—dangerous sort
of work we’re going to do,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“It is dangerous, and very brave of you to
attempt it,” Old Nancy said. “It needs courage
and perseverance. I think you both have pluck,
and you both have perseverance; somehow I think
one—but only <em>one</em> of you will be successful.”</p>
<p>“Which one?” cried Jack and Molly eagerly.</p>
<p>“Ah!” Old Nancy replied, and shook her head
mysteriously. “I cannot tell you any more than that....
But now we must get to work immediately.
There is no time to be lost. Wait here for a
moment.”</p>
<p>She rose, and smiling at the children, made her
way across the firelit room and passed out through
a doorway at the far end of the room.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly sat still and gazed silently round
the shadowy room. They could never afterward
describe the feeling that came over them, alone in
that room—even to themselves. They were not
afraid. A curious feeling crept over them, and they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
both felt sure that there was something or someone
in the room with them, although they felt equally
sure there was no one. There was an air of mystery
and secrecy in the room. No shadows danced on
walls quite in the way that they danced in Old
Nancy’s room; no smoke curled in such weird and
fantastic shapes as the smoke that curled up the wide
chimney in front of them; while it almost seemed
ridiculous to say that the chairs were empty when
the <em>something</em> in the room crowded into each of them.</p>
<p>“‘I am a kind of magician, you know,’” repeated
Molly softly, nodding her head at Jack. “Do you
know I can <em>feel</em> that she is.”</p>
<p>“So can I,” whispered Jack, hoarsely. The
children looked at each other seriously for a few
seconds, then they turned their heads, and saw that
Old Nancy was standing in the doorway watching
them. She came forward into the firelight, and they
saw that she carried two small satchels in her hands.
They were something like the children’s school
satchels, only they were smaller and stronger in
appearance, being made of soft black leather; they
had long straps attached to them, to pass over the
shoulders.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p>
<p>“These are your knapsacks,” said Old Nancy,
smiling. “You will find them useful on your
journey. This is yours,” she said to Molly, “and
this is yours,” to Jack. “Now if you will open
them and take out what is inside, I will explain
what they are meant for.”</p>
<p>The children thanked her and eagerly unbuckled
their satchels and felt inside. The contents of each
were the same: a sealed envelope, a box of matches,
and a little packet of square, brown things that
looked like caramels.</p>
<p>“Inside the envelopes are your Passes into the City.
Give them up at the City Gates. Take care of them,
without them they would not let you in. The matches
in those two boxes are not quite ordinary matches—though
they look like ordinary ones. I think they’ll
help you over one or two difficulties. Use them carefully
as there are not many matches in each box.
Whatever you do don’t light them in the daytime,
but light them when you are in the dark and want
to see.”</p>
<p>“Do we strike them just in the ordinary way?”
asked Molly.</p>
<p>“Just in the ordinary way,” said old Nancy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
“And the little brown squares in the packets are for
you to eat, should you be very hungry, and unable
to obtain food. You will find them wonderfully refreshing—it
is something I make specially.... And
here,” she continued, turning to Jack, and holding
something out to him, “is another shoe for you. I
see you have only got one on.”</p>
<p>“Why, so I have,” cried Jack, noticing for the first
time that one of his slippers was missing. “Now
wherever did I lose that, I wonder!” (Poor little
slipper, it takes no part in these adventures, as it
is left behind in the Impossible World. It is lying
by the fence at the bottom of the children’s garden,
you remember.) “I never noticed it before. Thanks
awfully, though. This slipper fits splendidly. How
did you know my size?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I knew,” Old Nancy laughed, and would say
no more.</p>
<p>She helped the children buckle on their satchels,
telling them that once they were inside the City they
would learn what plans were being made for the
search. “I wish I could give you some magic charm
to defend you against the Pumpkin,” she said. “But
that is impossible. The Black Leaf is the only thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
that can harm him, and save us all. Be very careful,
dear children.... Ah!” she broke off with a sharp
exclamation.</p>
<p>“What is it? What’s the matter?” cried Jack
and Molly, as Old Nancy stood gazing at her left
hand which she held out in front of her.</p>
<p>“So that’s how it was done,” she cried. “Look!
Look!” and she held her hand toward them. A
dark grey mark stained the middle finger from base
to tip.</p>
<p>“What is it?” Molly repeated.</p>
<p>“The stain,” whispered Old Nancy excitedly, “do
you see? It’s grey! The Grey Pumpkin’s mark! It
<em>was</em> one of his spies then, who made me sleep through
the sunset hour. But why to-day should they have
been able to do this, when they have been powerless
for so long?” she muttered to herself. “Could anything
have happened to the Pumpkin in—in your
world, that enabled him to exert his evil magic all
the way into our world, and so the spies were able
to begin their black magic again? Can you think
of anything that happened?” she asked Molly
eagerly.</p>
<p>Molly tried hard to think of something. “Of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
course, as it was a pincushion—I stuck a pin in
it,” she said presently.</p>
<p>Old Nancy gazed at her strangely. “In the moonlight?”
she asked. “Was the moonlight shining on it
when you stuck the pin in?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Molly, nervously. “Oh, did that do
it? Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry—then it is all my
fault that the Pumpkin has returned?”</p>
<p>“No, no,” said Old Nancy, “you are not to blame.
How were you to know? It was my fault for not
being more careful, then they could not have drugged
me.” She crossed quickly to the window. “Yes—see—here—here
on the sill. There’s a trace of grey
powder. I know what has happened. When I went
out of this room earlier in the evening—I did for a
few minutes, I remember—yes, just before sunset
time—someone must have opened the window and
scattered the powder on the sill, hoping that I should
go to the window at sunset and that I should put
my hand on the sill and touch the powder. And I
did. And the powder must have been magic and made
me go to sleep. I wonder I never noticed it.... But
never mind now, never mind now.... It is too late.
We must get to work at once to remedy the evil.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>
<p>But Molly still had a feeling that it was partly
her fault and she was glad that she and Jack had
decided to stay. She felt it was the least they could
do—to try to find the Black Leaf.</p>
<p>As Glan had not returned they decided to start
out, for the hour was getting late, and Old Nancy
thought it would be wiser for them to be inside the
City as soon as possible. She told them that they
were almost sure to meet Glan on the hill—he had
evidently been delayed—they couldn’t miss him.</p>
<p>“Good-bye, dears, good-bye,” said Old Nancy.
“My thoughts will be constantly with you till we
meet again. Good luck go with you both.”</p>
<p>Leaving Old Nancy standing in the doorway, with
the firelight glowing warmly in the room behind her,
the two children started out in the dusk and began to
ascend the hill.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br />
<span class="stl">Glan Opens the Gate in the
Nick of Time</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> children walked briskly, glancing from
the City lights to the dark woods on either
side of the road. Everything lay quiet and
peaceful, and overhead the moon was now visible.
It seemed impossible to believe that a cloud of fear
hung over the City ahead. As they drew nearer the
top of the hill the sound of a bell tolling came floating
down to their ears.</p>
<p>“What’s that for, I wonder,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“P’raps it’s a sort of warning,” suggested Jack,
“to tell people the Pumpkin’s back again.”</p>
<p>Molly shivered. “Let’s hurry a bit more, shall
we?” she said. “I’ll be glad when we’re inside the
City, won’t you, Jack?”</p>
<p>So they quickened their footsteps.</p>
<p>“I do hope we meet Glan,” Molly went on.
“We couldn’t very well miss him, though, could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
we?... You’re sure you’ve got your Pass
safely!”</p>
<p>“Rather,” said Jack. “At least I think I put
it back in my satchel.” And diving his hand in to
make sure, he jerked the envelope which contained
the Pass out on to the road. A passing breeze caught
it and turned it over and over on the ground, and
there was a hurried scramble on Jack’s part to get it
back again. He had just put it safely back in his
satchel, when a sudden cry from Molly made him
wheel round to see what was the matter.</p>
<p>Molly was standing gazing down the hill. “Oh,
Jack! Jack! Look!” she cried, pointing to the dark
wood on their left. About thirty yards away down
the hill, something was slowly emerging from the
black shadows of the trees.</p>
<p>It was the Grey Pumpkin.</p>
<p>It rolled leisurely out into the moonlit road,
paused for a moment, then turned and moved up
the hill toward them.</p>
<p>“Don’t be ashamed to run,” Old Nancy had said.
And they were not ashamed. Jack and Molly took
to their heels and ran. They did not want to be
stopped by the Pumpkin at the very beginning of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
their quest, knowing how powerless they were until
the Black Leaf was found. So they ran with all
their might, on, on, until the City Gate was but a
little farther ahead of them, and the tolling bell
clanged loudly from within.</p>
<p>“Jack, oh, Jack—I—can’t—run—any—more,”
gasped poor Molly. “Oh—what—what shall—we—do?”</p>
<p>“Were just there—keep—up—old girl—only a—little—bit
more—we’re—just—there,” panted Jack.</p>
<p>With a final effort they rushed forward and reached
the gate at last. Jack flung himself against it and
started beating on it with his fists, and then snatching
up a large stone from the road he hammered it with
that; while Molly seized the thick bell chain at the
side and began pulling it vigorously.</p>
<p>It was a curious gate—more like a door than a
gate—made of solid iron; and at the top, high
above the children’s heads, was a tiny grating
through which the citizens could see who stood
without.</p>
<p>Jack glanced despairingly up at the high white
walls and the black iron gate, while he continued
to beat wildly with the stone and shout as loudly as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
he could for help. There seemed no way of escape if
they did not open the gate, and looking back he saw
the Pumpkin coming silently onward.</p>
<p>“It’s no good making a dash for the woods,
Molly,” he exclaimed, “he’d cut us off. Pull harder,
and shout too.”</p>
<p>So Molly pulled harder at the bell chain and cried
out for someone to come and open the gate and let
them in.</p>
<p>Suddenly, above the noise they were making and
the sound of the tolling bell within, the children
heard voices, and a clattering on the other side of
the gate. Then a face appeared at the grating.</p>
<p>“Open the gate!” cried Jack. “Quick! Quick!
We’ve got a pass. Open the gate and save us!”</p>
<p>A loud murmuring arose within, and they heard
the jangling of keys. When all at once a voice
shrieked, “Look! Look! On the hill. It’s the
Pumpkin! Don’t open the gate! Don’t open the
gate, it’s a decoy!”</p>
<p>“It’s not, it’s not,” cried Jack. “Oh, save us,
save us. We <em>have</em> got a pass. Let us in and save
us from the Pumpkin. For pity’s sake open the
gate!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p>
<p>The voices inside were now loud and angry; the
people were evidently not inclined to believe him.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack, Jack!” screamed Molly. “He’s just
behind us, Jack!”</p>
<p>Jack wheeled round and saw to his horror that
the Pumpkin was near the top of the hill and close
upon them. He was desperate. Raising the stone
above his head, he flung it with all his strength at the
big, grey, moving thing. There was a dull thud as
the stone struck the Pumpkin and sent it back a few
paces; but it quickly came to a standstill, and began
at once to cover the ground it had lost.</p>
<p>Meanwhile a fresh arrival had come upon the
scene behind the gate. In the midst of all the
hubbub, the angry voices, the clanging bell, the
pattering feet, there was a moment’s lull, and Jack
and Molly could distantly hear the sound of running
feet. Then a familiar voice exclaimed: “Hi, there!
What’s all the fuss about?”</p>
<p>A score of voices started to explain.</p>
<p>Molly gave a sob of relief, “Oh, it’s Glan!” she
cried.</p>
<p>“Glan! Glan!” the children called imploringly.
“Open the gate quick and save us. Oh, <em>do</em> be quick!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
<p>Glan’s face appeared at the grating.</p>
<p>“Bless my soul!” he cried in his big voice. “Here,
give me the keys! Yes, I know it’s the Pumpkin
too, but if we don’t open the gate this instant the
little lady outside and her brother will be.... Give
me the keys ... give me the keys! Decoys?...
Bah!”</p>
<p>There was a jangling of keys again, the sound of
a lock being turned, and the huge gate swung back.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly dashed in, and Glan slammed the
gate behind them—just in time. Another minute and
the Pumpkin would have got through.</p>
<p>“But can’t he open the gate if he just touches it?”
cried Jack, tugging Glan’s sleeve excitedly.</p>
<p>“No, no, he can’t do that!” Glan said, shaking his
head as he stood on tiptoe to bolt and padlock the
gate securely. “Thank goodness there are some
limits to his magic!”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly found themselves in the centre
of an excited crowd of people who regarded them
curiously, but without anger or fear, since Glan had
befriended them. Most of them were chattering
and waving their hands toward the gate, but some
watched the children with narrowed eyes and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
whispered behind their hands to their neighbours,
while others stood and gazed gloomily at them in
silence. They were a picturesque race of people,
these citizens of the Possible World, clothed in a
bewildering variety of dresses, of no particular style;
apparently each person dressed in whichever style
took his or her fancy, or which was best suited to
the occupation carried on by that person. And this,
after all, is the only sensible way to dress. The
result of these numerous styles and colours was
very pleasing to the eye: at least, so thought Jack
and Molly as they gazed round at the animated
scene before them.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus03"></a>
<img src="images/illus03.jpg" width="409" height="552" alt="" />
<p class="caption">THE HUGE GATE SWUNG BACK</p>
</div>
<p>“Don’t you fret,” said a kindly-looking woman
dressed in dark blue with a blue cap on her
head and a chain of dull yellow beads round her
neck. “We took care to have the gate washed
with a magic lotion, and the Pumpkin cannot
touch it—nor the gate at the other end of the
City—though we have to keep both safely locked
in case a friend of the Pumpkin’s were to get in
and open the gate for him.” She looked straight
into the eyes of first Jack and then Molly—and
then she smiled.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p>
<p>By this time Glan had finished locking up the
gate, and was handing the keys back to the gate-keeper—a
large, pompous-looking gentleman with a
brown beard, dressed in a green Robin Hood style
of suit—who seemed inclined to be sulky.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I could not wait for your permission
to open the gate,” they heard Glan say. “The
matter was urgent, you see. It was the little lady
and her brother who are going to try and help us.”</p>
<p>“You’d no right to snatch the keys out of my
hand like you did,” replied the gate-keeper sullenly.
“You might have got me into no end of trouble,
if they <em>had</em> been decoys. Where’s their pass, anyway?”</p>
<p>Glan beckoned to Jack and Molly.</p>
<p>“If you wouldn’t mind giving up your passes to
this gentleman,” he said. “Ah, that’s right,” as
Jack and Molly handed their envelopes to the gate-keeper,
who proceeded to open them and examine
the contents carefully.</p>
<p>Then he slowly nodded his head. “All right this
time,” he said. “But you be careful in future, young
man”; he looked at Glan. “It might have been a very
serious matter.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p>
<p>Glan’s eyes began to twinkle.</p>
<p>“I will certainly profit by your advice,” he said.
“I’m extremely sorry I had to snatch the keys, I
apologize most humbly, but, of course, you didn’t
understand who it was outside, and what danger
they were in ... and anyway, all’s well now, isn’t
it, sir?”</p>
<p>“Oh, it’s all right this time, as I said before.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” said Glan. “Well, good-night....
And now,” he turned to the two children, “you
must be very, very tired after all that. Will you
come along with me to my little place? Father and
Aunt Janet will be very pleased to welcome you.”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly assented willingly, and followed
Glan closely as he made his way through the crowd.
When they reached the outskirts of the knot of people
Molly began to thank Glan for coming to their aid at
the gate; but he wouldn’t hear of it.</p>
<p>“What else could I do, on my life, little lady?”
he said. “I have faith in you both, and the help
you are going to give us. I want you to come and
have a good rest now, and then in the morning you
will be told what part of the country to search, and
you can start out at once on your adventures.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
<p>“It seems as if we have already started,” observed
Jack. “It seems as if its been all adventures
to-day.”</p>
<p>“I think you’re right,” said Glan. “But there’s
more to come—though we’ll talk about those to-morrow.
You must be too tired to-night. I am
very glad you got here all right, I was delayed in
coming to meet you—I felt sure, somehow, that
you’d decide to stay, after you had heard Old
Nancy’s story. And anyway, I should have been
half-way down the hill to meet you, only so many
people stopped me to know if the bad news was
true—that the Pumpkin had returned—and there
were such a lot of things to see to, and I had to
run home to tell Aunt Janet to get things ready
for you—in case you came back with me, so that I
reached the gate just in time to let you in.” He
stopped a little out of breath.</p>
<p>They had been walking fairly quickly all this
time, and the children could now see more clearly
what a beautiful City they had entered. Everything
glistened, a pure white, in the moonlight. Houses,
walls, roofs, chimneys, front doors, gates, pavements,
roads—all were white and spotlessly clean. Yet the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
curious part of it all was, that it was not monotonous
to the eye; instead, it seemed to make a fine background
for the coloured flowers and trees and dresses
of the people. And to-night, the City was full of soft
shadows, cast by the objects that stood in the light of
the moon, Glan and the two children turned into a
narrow, hilly street, down the centre of which ran a
sparkling brooklet, that babbled and gurgled as it
splashed over its pebbly bed. Most of the houses
in this street were quaintly built, with the top part
bulging out over the street. And Molly noticed as
they passed that all the windows had coloured curtains—in
one house all the curtains were blue, in another
a deep amber shade, in another a glowing crimson,
and so on—which had a very pretty effect, especially
if the windows were lit from within. The white
houses, the coloured curtains, and the window-boxes
full of flowers that adorned each window in the
street made a great impression on the children.
They thought it all charming, and said so to Glan.</p>
<p>“The Possible World,” he said, then shook his
head and held up his finger. The tolling of the bell
floated across to them.</p>
<p>“I suppose that’s to warn people, isn’t it?” said Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
<p>Glan nodded. “But we’ll soon change its tune,
won’t we?” he said. “It’s joy-bells that’ll be ringing
next, because the Black Leaf is found. And
who will have found it.... Ah, ha!” he winked
knowingly, and wagged a fat forefinger at the two
children. “What a great day it will be,” he chuckled.
“You’ll have to be careful I don’t win, because I’m
going to search too, you know ... but we’ll talk
all about that in the morning.”</p>
<p>At the top of the hilly street they crossed an open
square with a market cross in the centre, and entered
another narrow street with bulging houses and shops
in it. They met few people now as they continued
on their way: many were still down by the West
Gate, and others had wended their ways homeward
after assuring themselves that the Pumpkin was
safely outside the City walls. About half-way up
the street Glan came to a halt outside a small
shuttered shop, that lay back underneath the frowning
brow of the bulging upper story of the building,
like a dark deep-set eye. Producing a key from
the pocket of his white jacket, Glan placed it in the
lock of the side door and opened it quietly.</p>
<p>“I’ll go in first, shall I?” he said. “There’s no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
light in the passage, and you might fall over
something.”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly followed him into the house, and
stood hesitating on the mat while he strode down
the passage and opened a door at the farther end.
A dim light crept out and thinned the darkness.
From the room came a low murmur in familiar
tones.</p>
<p>“Come along,” called Glan. “Would you mind
just shutting the front door. Thanks very much.”</p>
<p>It was a small room at the end of the passage with
a round table in the centre of it on which stood a
shaded lamp. At the table sat Glan’s father with
his elbows resting on a large open book in front of
him, while his hands, held to the sides of his
head, covered his ears; an expression of profound
melancholy was on his face as he gazed at the
children on their entrance. Bending over the fireplace
was a genial, comfortable-looking, elderly woman,
who was stirring something in a saucepan.</p>
<p>“Bless their hearts, how tired they look,” she
exclaimed, as she caught sight of the children’s
faces.</p>
<p>“It’s the little lady and her brother that I told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
you about, Aunt Janet,” said Glan. “Is everything
ready for them?”</p>
<p>“Yes, my dear,” replied Aunt Janet. “The beds
is sweet and aired, and there’s a bowl of hot broth
for both of them, bless their innocent souls, which’ll
be cooked in a minute or two. Sit you down,
dearies, and rest yourselves, and Aunt Janet’ll have
things ready in no time for you.”</p>
<p>“They’re sure to be tired,” said Glan. “They were
chased up the hill by the Pumpkin,” he added in a
lower voice.</p>
<p>But his father had heard. “What was that?” he
asked mournfully, taking his hands down from his
ears.</p>
<p>So Glan had to explain to him the incident at
the gate, and how the Pumpkin nearly got in. The
old man listened intently, groaning every time Glan
paused for breath, and rolling his eyes whenever the
Pumpkin was mentioned by name. At the end of
the story he hastily stopped his ears again, and bent
over his book muttering faintly that he “couldn’t
abide that bell ringing.”</p>
<p>“Poor old father,” said Glan, compassionately,
“it does upset him so.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p>
<p>Jack and Molly were glad of the hot broth, and
Aunt Janet, as she fussed about them anxiously, was
pleased to see that the steaming bowls were soon
emptied.</p>
<p>“Sleep well, for there is hard work before you;
but courage—and everything will be well,” said Glan,
beaming down at them as he wished them good-night.
While his father shook his head mournfully, and
sighed as he gave them each a limp hand.</p>
<p>Aunt Janet lit two long candles, and conducted
them up a flight of high narrow stairs to the top
of the house where there were two small rooms
with little white beds, and freshly laundered window
curtains.</p>
<p>“Good-night, dearies,” she said. “Blow the
candles out safely. I hope you’ll find everything
you want here.” Her eyes grew very kind. “I
had a little girl and boy once,” she said, “and I
know they’d like you to use their things—if they
knew—so I’ve put them all out for you. They
were just about your age, and I—and they—good-night,
dearies,” she stooped suddenly and kissed
them each on the forehead.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br />
<span class="stl">Aunt Janet Puts on her Best Bonnet</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">A sunbeam</span> creeping through the window
and along the floor to Molly’s pillow awoke
her in the morning; she sat up with a start,
puzzled for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings;
then she remembered—and giving a long sigh,
snuggled down again for a few more minutes while
she thought things over.</p>
<p>How strange it all seemed, just like some wonderful
dream, she thought—and yet it was not a dream.
Here were she and Jack in the middle of a real,
exciting adventure. An adventure in which they
were taking an important, and (she hoped) useful
part. What would be the result of their search for
the Black Leaf? Would either of them find it?
And what had Old Nancy meant by saying that
she thought only <em>one</em> of them would be successful?
Wouldn’t she and Jack be allowed to search together,
Molly wondered. She hoped Jack wouldn’t be sent
to one part of the country, and she to another. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>
tried to recall all the information and warnings that
had been given to them about the Pumpkin, and the
more she recalled, the more difficult the task in front
of them appeared to be.</p>
<p>Molly stretched out her arm and fumbled about
in the clothes that lay on a chair by the bedside;
she presently drew forth the box of matches, Old
Nancy’s gift, and proceeded to examine this attentively,
it being her first opportunity of doing so.
Just an ordinary box of matches—at least, so it
appeared—only there was no maker’s name on the
outside, simply a dark blue wrapper. There were a
dozen matches inside—Molly counted. “I wonder
if Jack has got the same number,” she thought.
Then hearing a distant clock strike seven, she put
the match box back in her satchel and sprang out
of bed.</p>
<p>While she was dressing she noticed that the
bell which had been tolling solemnly when she fell
asleep was now silent.</p>
<p>When Molly was ready to go downstairs she
climbed on a chair and looked out of the window
into the street below, which was already alive with
people moving to and fro on their early morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
business. Everything looked so clean and fresh,
and the sun was shining, and a breeze greeted Molly,
so warm and sweetly scented that all the little
doubts and fears that had crowded in on her, trying
to cloud her naturally sunny outlook, were suddenly
swept clean away, and Molly felt that everything was
possible and good on such a perfect morning. She
jumped lightly to the ground and ran across the
room humming.</p>
<p>A patch of sunshine lay on the floor by the
door, and as Molly stopped for a second to do up
her shoelace she saw a curious shadow form on
the patch. And the shadow was shaped like a
pumpkin! Startled, she looked hastily over her
shoulder: but there was nothing there. And even
as she looked again at the sunlit patch, the shadow
passed away.</p>
<p>“Why, it must have been only a cloud, passing
before the sun,” she told herself, relieved. “How
silly of me.”</p>
<p>But, nevertheless, she felt suddenly depressed;
she did not hum any more and she walked slowly
downstairs, instead of running with her usual quick
step. In passing Jack’s room, the door of which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
stood wide open, she saw that the room was
empty. So Jack had raced her, and was already
downstairs.</p>
<p>“Yes, he’s been up this last half-hour, and he’s
out in the back garden now,” Aunt Janet informed
her. “Did you sleep well, dearie? Run out and
tell your brother breakfast’ll be ready in three
minutes, will you, dearie?”</p>
<p>And Aunt Janet bustled about between the pantry
and the fireplace and the breakfast table, in the little
back room. A very tempting breakfast table it
looked, too; set for five, and everything so spick
and span, from the crisp brown rolls to the long
glass vase filled with yellow flowers standing in the
centre of the white cloth.</p>
<p>So Molly went in search of Jack, through the
open back door into the garden. The garden which
was long and narrow, was full of bushes and flowers
and little winding paths. At the farthest end stood
six tall elm trees in a row, and it was here that
Molly spied Jack and Glan’s father, standing, talking
earnestly together.</p>
<p>“Hullo, Molly,” called Jack, when he saw her.
“Come and look here.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p>
<p>Molly made her way down the garden, and
saw that Jack and the old man were both gazing
down at something at the foot of one of the
trees. It was a dark red plant-pot filled with dry
soil.</p>
<p>“Mr—er—<em>he</em> was just telling me—what do you
think, Molly?” said Jack excitedly. “The Black
Leaf came up in this plant-pot one year!”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Molly gasped, and gazed at the pot with
awe. Such an ordinary plant-pot it looked, with
nothing at all about it to suggest that it had ever
been connected with any magic.</p>
<p>“Of course, missie,” Glan’s father explained
mournfully, “it was no use me a-picking it that
year, you see, because there was no Pumpkin to
pick it for. Besides,” he added bitterly, “it on’y
came up for spite. That’s all—pure spite, I call
it—just to taunt me as it were. I couldn’t bide the
sight of it—especially as the Pumpkin was out of
reach—in—in <em>your</em> World.”</p>
<p>“What would have happened if you <em>had</em> picked
it?” asked Jack.</p>
<p>“Nothing would have happened. At the end
of the thirteen days it would have withered away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
and the plant might not have come up again, perhaps—but
I don’t know about that. Still, if it
hadn’t, what should we have done this year when
we do want it? Eh?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Molly. “It is a good job you didn’t
pick it, because, supposing it didn’t come up again—I
suppose there would have been no hope of getting
rid of the Pumpkin this time?”</p>
<p>“Unless Old Nancy had discovered another spell,”
suggested Jack.</p>
<p>The old man shook his head dismally, and ran
his fingers through his beard.</p>
<p>“No,” he said. “I had a feeling—in my bones—that
we should need the Black Leaf some day.
I always said the Pumpkin would return from—from
<em>your</em> World. And then—and then those dreams
I <span class="nobreak">had——”</span></p>
<p>“Oh, why didn’t the Leaf come up in your plant-pot
this year!” sighed Molly.</p>
<p>“Things never happen like that,” mumbled Glan’s
father.</p>
<p>“They do sometimes,” said Molly.</p>
<p>But the old man only shook his head.</p>
<p>“There’s Aunt Janet calling us to breakfast,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
Molly. “I was sent out to fetch you. Come along!”
And she led the way back indoors again, followed by
the other two.</p>
<p>“Now, what have you been doing in the garden?”
cried Aunt Janet, catching sight of the three serious
faces. “Looking at that old plant-pot again, I’ll be
bound. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,”
she said, shaking her head at Glan’s father. “Brooding
over that miserable old pot—before breakfast, and
on such a lovely morning too. If I had my way I’d
smash the ugly old thing up and have done with it—though
really I believe you enjoy it”—she disregarded
the old man’s reproachful glance, and clapped some
plates on the table a little impatiently. “What good
does it do, brooding over things that are past and
gone and can’t be helped! It’s the future we can
help, and it’s the future we should give our thought
to, and make it better than the past. Glan! Glan!
Where’s Glan! Call Glan, somebody. He’s in the
shop!”</p>
<p>But Glan had heard, and appeared at that moment
through the glass-windowed door that led from the
parlour to the shop.</p>
<p>“Good-morning all, good-morning,” he cried,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>
beaming and rubbing his hands together. “What
a perfect morning, to be sure. And did the little
lady and her brother rest well after the strenuous
time they had yesterday?”</p>
<p>“Very well, thank you,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“Slept like a top,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Ah, that’s right,” said Glan, taking his place
at the table, round which the others were already
seated. “And what is this our good Aunt has
provided? Scrambled eggs! Excellent, excellent
indeed. What a perfect morning. Who could feel
sad at heart on a day like this!”</p>
<p>He seemed in great spirits, and started to hum
as he helped himself to salt, while his father rolled
his eyes up leaving only the whites visible, to signify
his despair at the incurable cheerfulness of his
son.</p>
<p>“Come, come now, and how is father this morning?”
Glan continued, pushing his father’s chair
closer to the table and tucking a serviette under his
fathers chin, for all the world as if he were a baby
in a high chair.</p>
<p>“He’s been at that old plant-pot again,” said
Aunt Janet.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
<p>“Bad wicked man,” smiled Glan, wagging his
spoon at his Father, who received all Glan’s bantering
remarks with the same stolid expression, and
without the flicker of a smile. Jack marvelled at
Glan’s perseverance with his Father, when his
attempts to cheer him up were always without
success. He began to doubt whether the old man
<em>could</em> smile, and tried to imagine him doing so—but
failed.</p>
<p>“After breakfast,” said Glan, “if he is very good
and promises not to pick the currants out of the
buns, Father shall mind the shop while the little
lady and her brother, and Aunt Janet, and yours
faithfully, put on their best bonnets with the bead
trimmings, and their elastic-sided boots, and brown
cotton gloves”—he gave an elaborate wink at Aunt
Janet—“and sally forth to learn what plans are
afoot, and to find out what portion of the country
we are each to search.”</p>
<p>“Will Jack and I be allowed to go together?”
asked Molly, anxiously.</p>
<p>“Certainly, if you wish,” said Glan.</p>
<p>“Of course we’d rather, wouldn’t we, Moll?” said
Jack.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p>
<p>And she assented quickly, hoping at the same
time that now they would probably both win—or
fail together.</p>
<p>When breakfast was finished, and while Aunt
Janet went to put on her bead-trimmed bonnet,
and elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves,
Glan showed the two children over the shop. It
contained a most tempting array of sugared cakes
and buns and pastries and bread—all of which
Glan told them he made himself, in the bakehouse
at the side of the shop. The shop was sweet and
clean, like the rest of the house, and the sight of
Glan, in his white cap and overall, standing behind
the counter and beaming cheerfully around him was
a sight to lighten the heart of anyone—except
Glan’s father.</p>
<p>“It’s fortunate that your Father can look after the
place while you are out,” remarked Molly. “But
I thought you said he was taken back and given
a place at Court, didn’t you? I thought that was
why he wore a velvet robe and keys.”</p>
<p>“Quite right,” said Glan, “but it is only a very
unimportant position. You see, he’s getting old—he
only has to turn up at Court every Tuesday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
and Friday. It keeps him amused. On his free
days he does all sorts of things to fill up his time....
Ah, here he comes,” he continued, as his Father
shuffled into the shop. “Now, be very careful, Father,
and look after everything nicely while we’re away,
won’t you? And here—you’d better wear this or
you’ll spoil that lovely velvet robe.”</p>
<p>And Glan whipped off his white apron and made
his Father put it on. This, over his gorgeous velvet
robe, gave him a comical appearance which was by no
means lessened by the melancholy expression on his
face. Glan gave a chuckle. With arms akimbo he
surveyed his Father with his head on one side, then
he chuckled again. Such an irresistible, infectious
chuckle it was that Jack and Molly, despite their
efforts not to, started to laugh. Glan went on
chuckling and laughing, and once having started
the three of them continued laughing and could not
stop, until the tears came into their eyes, and Jack
had a stitch in his side, and Aunt Janet appeared,
all ready to start, to see what all the noise was
about.</p>
<p>“Poor old Father ... it’s too bad to laugh ...
but really ... really ...” and Glan dried his eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
on the sleeve of his white overall, and started to
laugh again.</p>
<p>But Glan’s Father could see nothing to laugh at,
and had continued dusting the scales slowly and
methodically all the time.</p>
<p>“These jam puffs are two a penny, aren’t
they?” he asked, quite unconscious of the figure
he presented.</p>
<p>“Does your Father ever laugh?” Jack asked, as
soon as they were outside the shop.</p>
<p>“Never to my knowledge,” said Aunt Janet,
“and I’ve kept house for him these twenty
years.”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen him smile—twice—as far as I can
remember,” replied Glan. “But that was a long
time ago.... Perhaps he’ll <em>laugh</em> one of these
days—when we find the Black Leaf?”</p>
<p>They made their way down the street and
into the market square, which presented a very
different appearance in the daylight from the sleepy,
peaceful look it had worn last night in the moonlight.
Now it was awake and all was bustle and
hurry, with shops open, and people passing to and
fro.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p>
<p>“Where did you say we were going first?” asked
Jack.</p>
<p>“I didn’t say,” said Glan, “but I should think
you might guess by Aunt Janet’s bonnet that it’s
somewhere very special.”</p>
<p>“We’re going to the Palace, dearies,” Aunt Janet
broke in.</p>
<p>“To the Palace!” exclaimed the children.</p>
<p>“And shall we see the King?” Molly added.</p>
<p>“Of course,” said Glan.</p>
<p>At this moment their attention was attracted by
the sound of people running and shouting, and
they saw that a big crowd was rapidly gathering
round the market cross. “What is it?” “What’s
the matter?” people near by were asking each
other, and unable to get information they would
rush off and join the jostling, excited mob in order
to find out for themselves.</p>
<p>“Wait here a moment,” said Glan, “and I’ll go
and see. Don’t follow me or we shall lose each
other in the crowd. I won’t be long.”</p>
<p>And leaving the children and Aunt Janet standing
outside a quaint little tea-shop, he dashed forward
and was quickly lost to sight in the surging mass of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>
people that were rushing onward to the market cross.
Everyone was simmering with excitement, and Jack
and Molly had great difficulty in obeying Glan’s
instructions to wait outside for him there, especially
whenever a shout or groan of sympathy or indignation
rose above the murmuring of the crowd, and
told them that something unusual was taking
place.</p>
<p>But they waited, and in a few minutes they saw
Glan making his way back through the outskirts
of the crowd. He hurried toward them, his face
unusually grave.</p>
<p>“Come along,” he said, taking each of the children
by an arm and hastening them away before they
could ask any questions; and he signed to Aunt
Janet, who followed behind them as quickly as
possible. “Don’t look back. It’s no use. We can’t
do anything to help. It’s one of the Pumpkin’s
victims, some poor fellow caught by him outside
the City walls.”</p>
<p>“What has he done to him?” Jack managed to
gasp out.</p>
<p>“Made both his arms disappear, and covered his
face with a horrible grey stain. The man looks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
awful. I’m glad you didn’t see him—we can
do nothing to help ... except one thing,” said
Glan.</p>
<p>“The Black Leaf?” asked Molly.</p>
<p>“The only thing,” said Glan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br />
<span class="stl">Planning the Search</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">They</span> turned out of the square into a wide
avenue, bordered on each side with beautiful
trees. At the end of this avenue stood the
Palace gates, and behind these, glimpses could be
caught of the Palace itself, gleaming white through
the trees and bushes which surrounded it and almost
hid it from sight of the gates; the only parts which
were entirely visible were its four white towers which
rose high above the tree tops. Having ascended
the flight of wide, marble steps before the gates,
the four visitors passed the sentry—who seemed to
know Glan quite well—and made their way through
the grounds to the main entrance of the Palace.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly were lost in admiration of the
beauty of the scene before them. The creeper-clad
walls and white towers of the Palace stood in
well-wooded grounds through which a little river
wandered, sparkling in the sunlight. Along the
central avenue that led to the Palace, and up the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>
great wide steps to the main door, there moved a
constant stream of people, dressed in all sorts of
lovely shades and colours; from a distance you might
almost think they were the moving reflections of
the flowers that clustered in profusion wherever your
eyes turned. Had this been really so, Glan in his
white suit might have passed for the reflection of a
white stock, perhaps; Molly for a blue and white
periwinkle; Jack for a dark blue hyacinth; and Aunt
Janet, who was all in brown, for a large autumn
leaf.</p>
<p>They joined the moving procession, and as they
began to mount the steps Glan explained to the
children that all these people were on the same
errand as themselves; they had come to offer their
help in the organized search that was about to take
place. The main doors of the Palace were soon
reached and they passed through, and were presently
ushered into a spacious hall, panelled with dark oak.
(For although the outsides of the buildings in the
City were white, the children had already noted
that the insides were coloured in many and varied
styles.)</p>
<p>The hall was already crowded with people, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
on a raised daïs at the far end there sat the King’s
Councillors—a group of wise and learned men and
women—round a long table. At first Jack and
Molly could not see very well, but when a sudden
hush fell on the assembly and the people all bowed,
the children could see over the bowed heads that
some one of importance was entering. They were
made sure of this by the nudges of Aunt Janet.
And looking up they saw it was the King.</p>
<p>His Majesty was middle-aged and rather tall and
well built, and had a strong, clean-shaven face. The
children liked his appearance. That he was ‘every
inch a king’ could truly be said of him, though he
wore no crown or velvet robes as the kings usually
did in the children’s story-books at home, but was
dressed very simply in a suit that reminded Jack
vaguely of an admiral’s uniform.</p>
<p>“What a decent sort he looks,” whispered Jack
to Molly.</p>
<p>After a few words of welcome to the people the
King called upon one of the Councillors—a shrewd
little man with tufty white whiskers—to tell the true
story of the Pumpkin’s return to the Possible World,
which the Councillor did, having obtained a full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>
account from Old Nancy. The only question which
still remained unsolved was: Who was the traitor
who had drugged Old Nancy, and so aided the
Pumpkin to return? This mystery, he said, they
hoped to clear up when the Black Leaf was found.</p>
<p>When he had finished his story and had sat
down, a buzz of murmuring voices filled the hall, and
people turned to one another commenting on the
story about Old Nancy which they had just been told,
and comparing notes on the exaggerated versions of
the tale that had reached them from various quarters.</p>
<p>Silence fell as the King rose again. After a few
comments on the Pumpkin’s return, he began to
speak of the plans for searching, which he and the
Councillors had discussed at an emergency meeting
early this morning.</p>
<p>“To make sure that every likely inch of ground
is searched,” he said, “we have taken a map of the
City and the outlying country, as far as the boundaries
of this kingdom extend—and this is the only kingdom
in which the Black Leaf can grow, remember—and
we have divided this map into a number of small
squares. Now what we want you each to do is to
choose a square of the map, which you may take away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>
with you—and search thoroughly every inch of the
ground marked.</p>
<p>“In this way the Black Leaf must be found sooner
or later—unless there is any careless searching or
delay in searching. For, remember, we have only
<em>eleven days left</em> before the Black Leaf disappears—and
if it is not found before then the Pumpkin will
remain with us for a year until the Leaf appears
again and another search can be made.</p>
<p>“Those who volunteer outside the City are
advised to search in couples, as the Pumpkin will be
a constant source of danger to a person alone, whereas,
if there are two of you, one can always keep watch
while the other searches difficult places, or rests for
a while.”</p>
<p>And here the King said a special word of warning
regarding decoys and traps set by the Pumpkin in
order to hinder the searchers, and then went on to
explain what should be done if the Black Leaf was
found, repeating the words that Jack and Molly had
already heard from Old Nancy.</p>
<p>“As soon as it is known that the Black Leaf is
found,” the King continued, “signals will be given
throughout the country, so that all the searchers can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
cease, and make their way back to the City and the
hill by Old Nancy’s cottage, in order to witness the
Pumpkin’s punishment. These signals will be given
by means of beacon fires which will be lit on the
hill tops near and far. And when the glad news
reaches the City all the bells will be set ringing.”</p>
<p>“Your Majesty, would it be possible for one of
the Pumpkin’s friends to start the first beacon blazing,
before the Leaf was found, in order to stop the
searchers?” some one in the hall inquired.</p>
<p>“No,” replied the King. “Because we are so
arranging it that only the person who has actually
plucked the Black Leaf, and has it in his or her hand,
can set a light to the first beacon. Each beacon is
being specially guarded ... well, I will admit that
we have called in the aid of Old Nancy to help us in
the guarding of them. So you may rest assured that
none of the Pumpkin’s friends will be able to touch
the beacons.... So, whoever finds the Black Leaf,
remember to set the nearest beacon on fire before
starting back to Old Nancy, that we may all know
the good news at the earliest possible moment.”</p>
<p>The King concluded by asking for volunteers to
search outside the City and inside the City to come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>
forward and sign their names in the book which had
been placed on a table half-way along the hall.</p>
<p>“The Pumpkin has already, in the last few hours,
caused much sorrow,” he said sadly. “Let us make
certain that this is the last time he shall ever bring
disaster and misery to our country. Let us put our
best efforts into this scheme for finding the Black
Leaf, and so banish for all time the Grey Pumpkin.”</p>
<p>He sat down amid a great cheer which came from
the hearts of the people in the crowded hall. It was
obvious that the King was very popular. The people
pressed forward eagerly to sign their names, and
Jack and Molly together with Glan and Aunt Janet
were among the foremost to signify their willingness
to help. Both the children caught the wave of
enthusiasm which swept through the hall, and felt
that here was a country and a King well worth working
for. And their dislike of the Pumpkin who
would spoil everything grew more intense.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid I can only volunteer to search inside
the City,” said Aunt Janet to the children as they
turned away from the table. “I can’t walk very far
without getting a bit tired. And as for running—I
couldn’t—not if fifty Pumpkins were after me.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>
<p>“I think it’s jolly sporty of you to offer at all,”
said Jack.</p>
<p>“Oh, we all want to do what we can, dearie,” she
smiled.</p>
<p>The four of them moved on and joined a group of
people who were examining one of the large maps of
the City and surrounding country which were hanging
round the room. They had begun to discuss
what part of the country would be the best for them
to search, when they heard, much to their surprise,
someone call out the names of the two children in
a loud voice. Turning quickly they saw that the
King had the big book of names in front of him,
and with his finger to a name on the page, was looking
round the room. It was one of the Councillors
near him who had called out their names, evidently
at the King’s request. Before the children could
wonder what they ought to do, the King spoke:</p>
<p>“I see,” he said, “that we have two friends from
the Impossible World who have kindly offered to
help us. I should like to thank them personally.
Strangers are often lucky!”</p>
<p>Some one started a cheer which was quickly taken
up by the entire hall full of people, and Jack and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
Molly, both blushing furiously at this unexpected
attention, were pushed forward by Glan and Aunt
Janet, to the foot of the raised daïs where the King
greeted them, welcoming them to the country, and
warmly shaking hands with them. They chatted
together for a few minutes, the King asking many
questions about the Impossible World.</p>
<p>“But, ah me!” the King said. “I am afraid this
will be the Impossible World now that the Pumpkin’s
returned.”</p>
<p>“We will soon make it Possible again, your
Majesty,” said Molly. “If it is in our power to
do so.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure we shall all do our best,” said the
King. “Now which part of the country would you
prefer to search?”</p>
<p>The children said they did not mind, as all the
country was strange and fresh to them, and asked
his Majesty if he thought the Leaf was more likely
to be outside the City than inside.</p>
<p>“Of course, one can never be sure, but I think it’s
much more likely to be outside the City than inside,”
the King replied. “But still it <em>may</em> be inside!
We shall make a thorough search inside, naturally:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
in every garden, and street, and plant-pot, and
window-box—everywhere, in every place likely and
unlikely.”</p>
<p>When the children heard that the Leaf was more
likely to be outside they at once made up their minds.
Outside the City walls they would search, Jack and
Molly together. And so it was arranged.</p>
<p>They chose a little square of the country that lay
outside the East Gate of the City. It was entirely
fresh country to them, and Molly liked the names
given to that part of the country. Down the Three
Green Lanes, over Goblin’s Heath, through the
Orange Wood, and the country along the banks of
a broad river to Lake Desolate, and the Brown
Hills. Although these names were all marked in
one little square on the map it was really a good
many miles—especially when every likely part must
be carefully gone over and examined.</p>
<p>After Jack and Molly had received their small
square of map, Glan stepped forward to pick his
square. He shook hands and chatted with the King
for a second, and then stood before the map trying
to make up his mind. While he was deciding,
tracing along the map with his plump white forefinger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
the children stood aside watching the stream
of people passing to and fro, choosing their square
of map, shaking hands with the King, and passing
on and out of the great door at the end of the hall.
Most of them had a friendly smile and nod for Jack
and Molly as they went by, and several came up to
the children, and shook hands with them, thanking
them for offering to help their country in this
trouble.</p>
<p>At length, after Glan had chosen, and helped
Aunt Janet to choose her bit, and shaken hands
excitedly with everybody round about (including
Aunt Janet, by mistake), he, Aunt Janet, Jack, and
Molly bade farewell to the King and made their
way out of the Palace. They retraced their steps
through the Palace grounds, passing the sentry at
the gate, and went toward the Market Square
again. Glan and Aunt Janet insisted on showing
the children the way to the East Gate, and so the
four went along talking eagerly, the children full of
enthusiasm for the coming search, for the King, and
for the Possible World.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a big forest to search in my bit,” said
Glan. “I like forests. And I’m arranging for father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
to help me if he feels inclined—on the days when he’s
not at Court. I wish I could have got a bit to search
outside the East Gate—so as to be near you both—but
all the bits I wanted were already taken by other
people. Fortunately, though, I’ve managed to get a
square that backs on to a piece of the ground you’ll
be searching—though I start from the West Gate.
You see the wood bends round at this point——”
and he compared his square of map with Jack
and Molly’s square, and showed them where his
ground touched theirs. “So I shan’t be so very
far away,” he laughed. “You can’t get rid of me,
altogether.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure we don’t want to,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“Rather not,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Oh, Glan, you will be careful, won’t you?—and
not get caught by the Pumpkin?” added Molly
anxiously.</p>
<p>“Of course, little lady,” Glan replied. “You
should see me <em>run</em> if I want to. I’ll not get caught.”
He was still studying and comparing the maps.
“Why, look here!” he exclaimed, “you’ve got the
Orange Wood in your bit. Well, I never! D’you
hear that, Aunt Janet? The Orange Wood....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
We’ve got a relative who lives in that wood. I must
give you his name.” Glan scribbled something on
a piece of paper and handed it to the children. “Any
of the people in the village near by will direct you
to his house—they all know him. Papingay’s his
name—I’ve written it down, you see. He’ll be delighted
to see you—tell him you know us, Aunt
Janet and Father and me. But don’t be surprised
at his funny little ways—he’s a queer old soul—a
very queer old soul.” Glan chuckled to himself at
some recollection.</p>
<p>“He’s a kind of cousin of Glan’s father, dearies,”
observed Aunt Janet.</p>
<p>The children were glad to hear of this one person,
at any rate, whom they might trust in the strange,
unknown country before them.</p>
<p>“Be sure to humour him, though,” added Glan.
“He’s worth it. Don’t forget.”</p>
<p>While they had been talking they had been passing
through many quaint streets on their way to the
East Gate: streets that on an ordinary occasion
would have made Jack and Molly long to stop and
explore them slowly, there were so many tempting
and curious things to be seen. But there was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
time for loitering now. There was serious work to
be done. So they hastened along until at length
the East Gate was reached.</p>
<p>Here Glan produced two neat little boxes of
sandwiches and cakes, giving one of them to
Jack and one to Molly. “A snack for lunch,” he
said.</p>
<p>“You’re sure to find plenty of friends as you go
along,” said Aunt Janet. “But do take care of
yourselves, dearies. Good luck be with you.” And
she fumbled for her pocket-handkerchief and dabbed
her eyes rapidly, while Glan patted her on the
shoulder.</p>
<p>“Here’s to our next meeting,” he cried cheerily,
“and may it be soon. Who’s going to light the first
beacon, little lady, you or I?”</p>
<p>“Neither,” said Jack, laughing. “I am.”</p>
<p>“That’s the sort,” cried Glan, patting Aunt Janet
vigorously, as he beamed at Jack.</p>
<p>The keeper of the East Gate had by this time
appeared and was cautiously opening the gate.
Finding the way clear he opened it wide.</p>
<p>“Laugh at misfortune,” Glan shouted gaily, as
Jack and Molly passed out on to the High Road.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
“Keep up a good heart, and—tss—remember—we
shall win. Good luck! Good luck!” They
saw him wave his white cap in the air; there was
a flutter of brown-gloved hands, then the gate
closed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br />
<span class="stl">Some One Meets Jack and Molly
in the Third Green Lane</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">They</span> had gone but a short distance along
the broad white road which led to the
Three Green Lanes (according to the map),
when they heard the East Gate of the City open and
shut again with a clang, and looking back Jack and
Molly saw that two people had come out and had
started off in the opposite direction to that in which
they were going.</p>
<p>“Two more searchers,” said Jack. “I remember
that little man with the green coat, don’t you, Molly?
He was at the Palace—had very twinkling eyes.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes, I saw him,” said Molly. “And that
boy with him in that curious red-brown suit. I
wonder which part they are searching. Supposing
<em>they</em> are the lucky people who are going to find
the Black Leaf ... if we only knew,” sighed the
little girl, standing in the middle of the white road<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
and gazing pensively at the two figures in the
distance.</p>
<p>“I know one thing,” said Jack. “We shan’t be
the lucky people if we don’t move along. Come on,
Molly.”</p>
<p>Two minutes’ brisk walking brought them to the
entrance to the First Green Lane. And here their
search began. The lane was a very twisty one, and
was closed in on either side with high thick hedges;
fresh and green the hedges were, and starred with
tiny white flowers that smelled very sweet.</p>
<p>“How strange that it isn’t autumn here, like it
was at home,” said Jack. “It’s more like summer
here, isn’t it, Molly?”</p>
<p>“It isn’t really strange,” said Molly. “Everything
is so different here, isn’t it? I don’t see why
the seasons in the Possible World should be like ours
any more than anything else is like ours.”</p>
<p>“No. P’r’aps you’re right,” agreed Jack.</p>
<p>They went carefully along, searching thoroughly
as they went, Molly taking the left-hand side of the
lane and Jack the right. For the most part it was
fairly easy work; there were not many places in the
First Green Lane where the Black Leaf could grow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
undetected, though from time to time an extra thick
and low-spreading bush would necessitate a halt for
a thoroughly satisfactory examination.</p>
<p>“There is one thing that seems strange to me,”
Molly went on presently. “And that is the way the
ordinary and the magic things seem to all get mixed
up together. I’m sure I shall be forgetting, when we
get home again, and keep expecting spells and magic
things to happen.”</p>
<p>“So shall I,” said Jack; and then, as Molly
began to laugh—“What’s the matter?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack,” she laughed. “What would Aunt
Phœbe say if she could see us now!”</p>
<p>“‘I’m sure I don’t know what the world’s coming
to,’” mimicked Jack, in an Aunt Phœbe voice, and
then joined in Molly’s laughter. “And the best of
it is,” he chuckled, “it’s all through her giving you
that birthday present. She <em>would</em> be wild.”</p>
<p>“I suppose we really ought not to laugh at her,”
laughed Molly. “It’s hardly respectful—but, somehow,
I can’t just help it.”</p>
<p>They continued to search, chatting and laughing,
in a light-hearted, excited mood, and soon they had
covered the best part of the First Green Lane. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
they neared the end—a break in the hedge (on Jack’s
side) blocked by a white gate revealed a big field
which lay behind the hedge.</p>
<p>“Hullo,” said Jack. “Have we got to search
this field, too, I wonder. Where’s the map?”</p>
<p>Molly had it in her pocket, and produced it at
once. Leaning against the gate the two children
studied it carefully.</p>
<p>“Yes. See. Here it is ... marked here,” said
Molly. “The hedge on the left-hand side—the side
I was searching—is the boundary; but the field this
side is marked in our square.”</p>
<p>“I tell you what then,” suggested Jack. “I’ll
start on the field while you finish to the end of the
lane—it’s only a few yards more. Then you come
back and start the other end of the field.”</p>
<p>Molly agreed, so they separated for a few minutes
and continued the search. But there was no sign of
the Black Leaf anywhere in the big field or in the
First Green Lane, and at length they started on the
Second Green Lane.</p>
<p>The Second Green Lane had low hedges and
many ferns and wild flowers growing by the way,
and a ditch running along one side of it, which made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>
the searching a little more difficult. There were also
several gates leading from this lane into fields which
had to be searched too. Some of the fields where
the grass was long took a good time to do properly.
But the two children stuck to it perseveringly, urged
on by the hope that perhaps just round the corner, or
behind the next tree, or even, perhaps, a few feet
ahead of them among the long grass, grew that which
they sought—the Black Leaf. But so far they had
searched in vain.</p>
<p>In the early afternoon they found themselves at
the beginning of the Third Green Lane; and here
they decided to stop and have a short rest and some
lunch. When they sat down on the soft grass by
the side of the lane they suddenly discovered that
they were really tired; and when they saw the
tempting little sandwiches and cakes in the “snack
for lunch” packets Glan had given them they realized
that they were really hungry. They had been too
busy and excited to realize these things before. Over
lunch they got out the map again and studied it.</p>
<p>“What a lonely piece of country this seems,” Jack
remarked. “Do you know, we haven’t seen a single
person since we started searching!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
<p>“Nor a single house,” said Molly. “It’s a good
thing we have this map with us. How useful it is....
Let me look, Jack. Are there any houses or
villages marked near here, because we shall have to
find some place to stay to-night if possible.”</p>
<p>“There seems to be some sort of village marked
there ... um ... it’s not very near, though,” said
Jack. “It’s the other side of the Goblin’s Heath....
There doesn’t seem to be a house of any sort
marked between here and that village, does there?
Still, I daresay we could reach the village before dusk,
if we are not delayed at <span class="nobreak">all——”</span></p>
<p>“And if the Heath isn’t too big——”</p>
<p>“If it is and we can’t find a cottage before the end
of the Heath, we’ll climb up a tree, Moll. It’ll be
great sport. And we shall be quite safe there till
daylight.”</p>
<p>They packed up the remains of the lunch, for it
was a very generous “snack” that Glan had put in
for each of them, and after resting a few minutes
longer they rose to their feet and prepared to start
on again.</p>
<p>“My word, I am thirsty,” said Jack. At Molly’s
advice he tried one of the little sweet things in Old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
Nancy’s packet, and though it was certainly refreshing
Jack still craved for a drink of water. “Is there
a stream of water marked anywhere near here. Give
me the map again, Molly.”</p>
<p>They were standing at the beginning of the Third
Green Lane with the map in their hands, when the
sound of some one singing came to them from a
distance.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly looked at each other. This was
the first human sound they had heard since they left
the High Road. Perhaps this person, whoever it
was, could tell them where they could get some water.
The singer was evidently approaching, as the song
grew louder and clearer, from the direction of the
lane which they were just about to search. Then,
just as they expected the singer to come round the
corner of the lane—the singing ceased abruptly—and
no one appeared.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly waited a while, then started off
down the lane in the direction whence the singing
had come, thinking perhaps that the singer had
stopped to rest round the corner of the lane. They
were right. As they turned the corner they saw
someone sitting under a tree at the side of the lane.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
It was a young girl, a little older than Jack and
Molly—such a pretty girl, with grey-green eyes and
a straight, white nose, and deep golden hair that
curled about her shoulders. Her soft green frock
matched the colour of her eyes.</p>
<p>She did not notice Jack and Molly at first, as her
attention was taken up by the contents of a small
wicker basket in her lap: she was peering inside it
anxiously, and counting aloud.</p>
<p>“Eight, nine, ten,” they heard her say. “Eleven....
Oh, dear, I’ve lost ... no, here it is ... twelve.
Oh, that’s right!”</p>
<p>She looked up, and saw the children. She gazed
up at them, then smiled (such a friendly, sweet smile,
Molly thought).</p>
<p>“Oh, I ... I didn’t hear you come along,” she said.</p>
<p>“We heard you singing,” said Molly.</p>
<p>The girl blushed. “I didn’t know anyone was
near,” she said. “I often sing when I’m by myself—it’s
so lonely, as a rule.” She fastened the lid of
her basket down.</p>
<p>“We were awfully glad to hear you,” said Jack.
“Because, do you know, we haven’t met a soul since
we left the East Gate.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>
<p>“Have you come from the City, then?” asked the
girl with much interest, rising to her feet. “Oh, you
can’t imagine how lonely it is to live out here. What
news is there? What does the City look like now?
Oh, I’d give anything to live in the City with crowds of
people and lights and shops and—and real pavement.”</p>
<p>“Haven’t you got any pavement then in the village
where you live?” asked Jack.</p>
<p>“I don’t live in a village,” answered the girl.
“Its right out here in all this lonely part that
mother and I live.”</p>
<p>“Near here?” asked Molly.</p>
<p>“Yes. Just at the end of the Third Green Lane,”
said the girl.</p>
<p>“In a house?” inquired Jack.</p>
<p>“Yes. Why not?” the girl smiled. “What did
you think we’d live in?”</p>
<p>“I meant,” said Jack, “it’s not marked on our
map; there’s no house marked until you get to the
other side of the Goblin’s Heath, and I didn’t think
there was one so close.”</p>
<p>The girl began to laugh. “Well, there is one,
even if it isn’t marked on your map. They don’t
mark all the houses, you know. If your way takes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
you along down this lane you’ll pass the house, and
mother would be awfully pleased to see you if you
could spare a little while. She rarely gets news of
the City or sees anybody.”</p>
<p>“We <em>were</em> going along this way,” said Jack.
“And we were just wondering if there was anywhere
we could get a drink of water, because we’re both so
thirsty....”</p>
<p>“Thirsty?” said the girl. “Why, here is the very
thing!” And she opened her basket and took out a
beautiful bunch of grapes. “I had been sent out
to gather these from our vine—twelve bunches I’ve
gathered. Do have one.” She placed a delicious-looking
bunch in Jack’s hands.</p>
<p>“Oh, no—really. I say, can you spare them,
though?” protested Jack. “And wouldn’t your
mother mind?”</p>
<p>“She’d mind if I didn’t give you a bunch when
you were so thirsty,” said the girl, and insisted on
Molly having a bunch too.</p>
<p>“Well, it really is awfully kind of you,” said Jack,
and Molly thanked her also.</p>
<p>Molly hesitated just a second before eating her
grapes, wondering if they were doing right in accepting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
them from the little girl whose name even they
didn’t know. But a glance at the little girl’s sweet,
frank face reassured any doubts Molly may have had.
Jack had already started his bunch. So Molly ate
her grapes too.</p>
<p>“You know,” said Jack, “I don’t think I’ve ever
tasted such jolly fine grapes. I was terribly thirsty
after searching all the morning.”</p>
<p>“Searching?” asked the girl, puzzled. “Did you
say searching? What have you lost?”</p>
<p>“It isn’t what we’ve lost—it’s what we can’t find,”
said Jack. “You know—it’s what they’re all looking
for.”</p>
<p>The girl shook her head. “I don’t know what
you mean,” she said.</p>
<p>“Don’t you know about the search for the Black
Leaf?” asked Jack in surprise. “Oh, I say. And
about the Pumpkin being back again—of course, you
know that?”</p>
<p>“What!” screamed the girl. “The Pumpkin
back? No! No! I didn’t know that. We hear
nothing—living out here alone.... But, oh dear,
oh dear! Whatever are we going to do?” She was
trembling and seemed very upset. “I must get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>
home at once and tell mother—poor mother,” she
added. She fastened the lid of her basket with shaking
fingers. “Are you coming along this way now?”</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus04"></a>
<img src="images/illus04.jpg" width="407" height="556" alt="" />
<p class="caption">“DO HAVE ONE!”</p>
</div>
<p>The children explained to her that although they
were coming that way they would have to search as
they came, and advised her to go on in front of them
to tell her mother if she felt this was the wisest thing
to do. But she seemed afraid to leave them.</p>
<p>“I’d rather stay with you, if you don’t mind,”
she said. “I—I expect you’ll think I’m an awful
coward—but I simply daren’t go on alone. I’ll help
you search as we go along; and do tell me how it all
happened—how the Pumpkin came back.”</p>
<p>So, as the three of them moved off down the lane,
Jack and Molly recounted something of what had
happened. They did not talk much about themselves,
but related the main incidents of the Pumpkin’s
return. Their companion listened eagerly, putting
in a hurried question every now and then. When
they had finished she said:</p>
<p>“Well, I do think it’s plucky of you. To search
like this—in a strange land. I—I feel quite ashamed
of myself for being so scared just now. We all have
to take our chance. Do let me help you search this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
bit of lane. And afterward, I’ll go to the City and
ask to be given a part to search too. How far do
you intend to search to-day?”</p>
<p>“We thought of trying to get as far as the other
side of the Goblin’s Heath,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ll never be able to do that before nightfall!”
the girl exclaimed. “It’s a very big Heath. I
wonder—would you care to stay at our house to-night?
Mother and I would be only too proud to have you, if
you’d care....”</p>
<p>“It’s very good of you,” said Molly. <span class="nobreak">“Perhaps——”</span></p>
<p>“Well, wait until you see mother, if you’d prefer
that,” said the girl. “Wait until you see our house.
I know I shouldn’t care to promise to stay with
anyone until I’d seen where they lived. In a strange
country too.”</p>
<p>She had added this, seeing that Jack and Molly
hesitated. But they were more than half-persuaded,
because she spoke so reasonably and frankly.</p>
<p>They continued to search the Third Green Lane
thoroughly; the afternoon wore on, and the shadows
of eventide began to fall.</p>
<p>Presently the girl said, “We are near the end of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
the lane now. Round the next turning you will see
my house.”</p>
<p>So far the search had been in vain, and Jack and
Molly were beginning to feel very tired, as the lane
had been long and difficult.</p>
<p>“We must have been two hours searching this
lane,” said Molly. “Will your mother be getting
anxious about you?”</p>
<p>The girl shook her head. “And she won’t even
be cross when she sees that I’ve brought visitors
home with me. You will come in, won’t you?”
she asked, “and we can all have tea together.”</p>
<p>It sounded so tempting that the children accepted
gladly, especially as the house hove in sight at that
moment. Turning the corner they came suddenly
upon it. Such a quaint, cosy little house, which lay
snuggled away behind a cluster of thick bushes and
trees. The lane continued for only a short distance
beyond the house, then it opened out into a great
wide heath—the Goblin’s Heath. The children hadn’t
time to take in much of the scenery, as their companion
ushered them into the garden of her house quickly.
It was darker in the garden under the trees than out
in the roadway, and they saw that a little light was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>
glimmering from one of the windows of the house,
which made it look very homely and comfortable.
Jack and Molly followed their companion up the path
to the front door.</p>
<p>The girl tapped twice on the front door, then,
rattling the handle and calling out, “Here we are,
mother!” she threw open the door and the three of
them passed in.</p>
<p>They found themselves in a dark, narrow passage,
at the end of which they could see a glow as from
firelight. Their companion closed the front door
and led the way along the passage.</p>
<p>“Here we are, mother!” she called again, and a
figure appeared in the firelit opening at the end of
the passage, and stood there chuckling softly.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Jack and Molly were afraid.</p>
<p>“Jack, I’m going back!” gasped Molly, and
turning, both the children made for the door. But
it was shut fast, and there were no handles or bolts
to be found.</p>
<p>The girl and the figure in the firelight burst into
loud laughter.</p>
<p>“You little sillies!” a voice cried, accompanied by
another burst of laughter.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p>
<p>They could see the girl in green quite plainly
now. She had reached the end of the passage and
stood whispering to the other person. The firelight
shone on both of them. The girl in green was
strangely altered. No longer fresh and young and
pretty—her face looked old and hard and scornful.
Jack and Molly caught a few of the words she was
whispering.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack,” Molly sobbed. “They’re the
Pumpkin’s friends. We’re trapped!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br />
<span class="stl">Trapped</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Jack</span> and Molly clutched hold of each other
tightly, while a feeling of despair rushed over
them. How foolish, how very foolish, they had
been to trust the girl! What awful thing could be
going to happen to them now? they wondered. The
whispered conversation between the two at the end
of the passage ended in a loud burst of laughter and
giggling; then the girl turned toward them and
beckoned.</p>
<p>“Come on,” she said, “and the quicker the better
it will be for you.... No nonsense now,” as the
children did not move.</p>
<p>“How dare you!” Jack managed to say. “Open
this door and let us out at once. You—you
mean sneak!” His voice was shaky, but very
determined.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t be silly,” said the girl. “You’ve <em>got</em>
to obey now—so you might just as well come—unless
you’d like me to fetch you both?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
<p>“Heh! Heh!” laughed the figure behind her.
“I’d like to see you fetch them—that I would!”</p>
<p>The laughter and the nameless threat underlying
the words gave the children a creepy sensation all
up and down their spines.</p>
<p>“Oh, let’s go before she <em>fetches</em> us,” cried Molly,
and went forward, dragging Jack by the hand.</p>
<p>“That’s sense,” said the girl, and made room for
them to pass out of the passage into the firelight.</p>
<p>They found themselves in a round, cave-like
room, which was lit up by the dancing flames of a log
fire. Afterward Jack and Molly could not remember
seeing any furniture in the room—nothing but the
fire and a stone-arched fireplace. They could not
recall seeing any windows, but they remembered the
floor, which was made of cobbles, because it was hard
to walk on. The room appeared to have no ceiling,
or else a very high one, at any rate no ceiling was
visible; overhead all was drifting smoke and black
gloom, like the entrance to a railway tunnel.</p>
<p>“Let’s have a look at the pretty dears,” said the
figure beside the girl, moving forward, and Jack and
Molly stood face to face with the ugliest old woman
they had ever seen, in fact, had ever even imagined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>
Her clay-coloured face was a mass of deep wrinkles;
her narrow, sunken eyes looked like two restless
black beads, darting from side to side, as if to escape
from the two slits of eyelids which imprisoned them.
Her nose and chin curved towards each other,
after the fashion of nut-crackers, and her otherwise
toothless mouth had one long yellow fang always
visible. A bright crimson scarf was wound round
her head, like a turban, from which long wisps of
jet black hair escaped and hung about her face.</p>
<p>As the children looked at her, she did a terrifying
thing (which they quickly discovered was a constant
habit of hers). The old woman’s restless beady eyes
became suddenly still, and she fixed upon the children
in turn a piercing stare, gradually opening her eyes
wider and wider and wider until they became two big
round black balls encircled by saucers of white—great,
staring, still eyes ... then suddenly the lids
snapped over them, and they were once more little
darting black beads.</p>
<p>“Heh! Heh! Heh!” laughed the old woman.
“What a surprise for yer, duckies, wasn’t it, now?”
And she thrust her face close to the children and
leered unpleasantly. “Stoopid little baggages!” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
added. “Far for better you’d stopped at home—meddlin’
in what don’t concern you. But we’ll soon
learn you to come a-meddlin’.” She turned to the
girl behind her. “All right,” she said in an undertone.
“I’d know ’em again. I’ve had a good look.
When’s <em>he</em> coming?”</p>
<p>“In about an hour, I expect,” answered the girl.
Then she dropped her voice and started whispering
again.</p>
<p>The two children gazed into each other’s frightened
white faces, and a little sob escaped from Molly.</p>
<p>“Eh?” said the old woman. “What you say,
ducky?... Nothing?... All right. Come along
then, my pretties, come along and wait in the drorin’-room.
His Excellency the Grey Pumpkin is not at
home just at present, but he won’t be long; oh,
dear no, he won’t be long. Step this way in the
drorin’-room. He’ll be <em>pleased</em> to see yer. Heh!
Heh!”</p>
<p>Molly glanced despairingly at the girl in green,
the girl who had been so friendly a short time
before when they were outside in the lane. Molly
held out her hands appealingly—but the girl only
laughed.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p>
<p>“Oh have you no pity?” cried Molly. “Do, <em>do</em>
let us go. He’ll never know—the Pumpkin need
never know. And—and if there is anything we can
do for you, I’m sure my brother and I will be only
too pleased....”</p>
<p>“Would you even give up the search—and go
straight back home?” asked the girl sharply.</p>
<p>Here, then, was their chance of escape. If they
would promise—Molly looked at Jack. What would
the Pumpkin do to Jack—to her—when he came?
She shuddered. Then she thought of Old Nancy,
and the King, and Glan, and she knew that what
the girl asked of them was impossible. She and
Jack exchanged glances again. They had decided.
They would take their chance.</p>
<p>“Would you promise?” asked the girl.</p>
<p>“No,” answered Jack and Molly together.</p>
<p>“Hurry up and push them in, then, mother.” The
girl turned away, dismissing the subject immediately.</p>
<p>The old woman, chuckling to herself, opened a
door in the wall (which the children had not noticed
before) and told them to follow her to the “drorin’-room”
unless they wanted to be “fetched” there.
So they followed her.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>
<p>It was pitch dark on the other side of the door,
and the old woman called out to the girl in green
to hold a light for them, which she did, standing in
the doorway holding a flickering taper above her head.
Jack and Molly followed the old woman along a short
passage, down a flight of stone steps to a door at the
bottom. She took a key from her pocket, and calling
to the girl in green again, telling her to hold the light
at the top of the steps, she fumbled at the lock, opened
the door, and then, without more ado, she pushed Jack
and Molly inside, and slammed the door on them.
They heard her lock the door, then go shuffling up
the steps, grumbling to herself. Then another door
banged—and all was silent.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly were in absolute darkness, and
could not see an inch in front of them. They dared
not move, but stood still clinging hold of each
other.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack, why <em>did</em> we trust her?” sobbed
Molly.</p>
<p>“How were we to know ... she seemed so
decent ... the sneak!” said Jack. “Oh, can’t we
<em>do</em> anything, Molly?”</p>
<p>It was dreadful, just standing in the dark—waiting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
They talked in low tones to each other for a while,
wondering how long it would be before the Pumpkin
arrived. Neither of them dared to speak of what he
might do when he came. If—if anything happened
to them, would any one miss them, and come in search
of <span class="nobreak">them——</span></p>
<p>And then Molly remembered.</p>
<p>“Jack!” she cried. “The matches! Old Nancy’s
matches!”</p>
<p>“Why ever didn’t we think of them before?”
exclaimed Jack.</p>
<p>Now was the time to use them, undoubtedly; for
if ever there was a dark place where some light was
needed.... Jack and Molly were fumbling eagerly in
their satchels.</p>
<p>“Be careful, Jack,” said Molly. “Don’t drop
any. Have you got yours yet? I have. Now I’ll
strike one—and see what happens.”</p>
<p>Jack was still searching his satchel for his box of
matches. Meanwhile Molly took a match out of her
box and struck it.</p>
<p>The children were not quite sure what they had expected
to happen, but they felt vaguely disappointed to
see just an ordinary little flare of light spring out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
darkness. Just an ordinary little flickering match.
Anyway, they could now see what sort of a place
they were shut up in. It was a kind of underground
cellar, small and square and high roofed,
and except for a few old boxes in one corner,
empty. The walls were damp and mouldy, the
floor broken and uneven, and the place seemed full
of cobwebs.</p>
<p>And then they realized that it was not quite an
ordinary match. It burnt longer, and, strange to say,
the rays from it were concentrating all in one direction—like
a long thin streak of light—pointing. Jack
and Molly quickly sensed this. But what was the
light pointing at? The flame was directed straight
toward the boxes in the corner.</p>
<p>The children crossed the cellar and examined
the boxes. They looked like wooden sugar boxes;
there were three of them; and they were all empty.
Jack pulled them away from the wall, but there was
nothing behind them.</p>
<p>Then Molly’s match flickered—and went out.</p>
<p>“Here, I’ll light one,” said Jack. “I’ve got mine
now.”</p>
<p>So Jack lit one. Just the usual match flare at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
first, but as soon as it burned up the light gathered
together all on one side of the match as it were, a
long streak pointing in the exactly opposite direction
to where the boxes were, right over on the other side of
the cellar. For a moment Jack doubted, wondering
whether it was a sort of joke on him. But he and
Molly followed the light quickly, and saw that it was
concentrated on a spot, high up on the wall, near the
roof.</p>
<p>“Look! quick!” said Molly. “There’s an iron
ring or handle or something up there.”</p>
<p>“But how can we reach it?” began Jack.</p>
<p>And then they remembered what the first match
had shown them, and hastily dragging the boxes
across the floor, piled them one on top of the other
underneath the ring in the wall. Then Jack’s match
went out.</p>
<p>Both children were now tremendously excited;
and fearful lest the Pumpkin should come before they
had finished their investigations, they moved as
rapidly as possible. Molly lit the next match, while
Jack clambered up to the top of the boxes. Her
light pointed straight at the iron ring.</p>
<p>“It’s a ring all right!” cried Jack. “But, oh,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>
Moll, I can’t quite reach it! Whatever shall we
do?”</p>
<p>As the match pointed steadily at the ring, and
offered no further suggestions, Molly climbed up to
the top of the boxes too. Jack’s remark was only too
true; the ring was just out of reach, try as they
would to touch it.</p>
<p>“I believe I could reach it if you could lift me up,
Jack,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“Right-o!” said Jack. And then Molly’s match
went out.</p>
<p>As it would be too difficult to hold a match while
trying to reach the ring, and as Molly said she
remembered just where the ring was on the wall, it
was decided to pull the ring if possible, and then
light a match, and see what had happened.</p>
<p>So Jack lifted Molly up, and after groping about
on the wall with her hands for a few seconds, she
caught hold of the ring.</p>
<p>“I’ve got it! Keep steady, Jack!” she cried,
joyfully, and gave a vigorous tug at the iron ring.
“Something’s given way—it feels as if a sort of
door’s opened. All right, put me down now, Jack,
and strike a match.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>
<p>Jack followed her directions, and by the light of
the match they saw that a small square door had
opened in the wall above their heads. The light from
the match pointed straight through the opening. It
looked like a narrow, dark tunnel beyond. Jack put
his match down on the top of the boxes to see if it
would give them sufficient light from there, but
directly it left his hand it went out, so they decided
to try to get into the tunnel before they lit up
again, as it was too difficult to hold matches while
scrambling through the little black opening. Jack
hoisted Molly up first, and she managed to get
through the door, and then she turned and reached
down her hand to pull Jack up. It was rather an
ordeal, doing all this in the dark, but at length it
was safely accomplished and they were both inside
the tunnel. Once through the door, although rather
cramped, they found there was sufficient room to
stand up, if they bent their heads.</p>
<p>They did not stop to close the door behind them,
but, lighting another match, they scurried along the
tunnel as fast as ever they could. The tunnel twisted
and turned a good deal, and then began to slope
gradually upward. Two more matches they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
obliged to light before they came at length to a
standstill where the tunnel branched out in two
directions. The light pointed steadily to the left, so
they followed it. Another minute’s rapid walking,
and they felt a rush of cool air, and when their match
spluttered and went out, they could see that the inky
darkness was thinning a little way ahead, and so they
did not light another match, but hastened onward
toward a glimmer of light in the distance. As they
drew nearer they saw that it was the end of the tunnel
and led out into the open air.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly moved cautiously when they came
to the end. They crept out, and found themselves in
the middle of a thick tangle of bushes. Through the
bushes they struggled and forced a way until they
at length came out on to a narrow footpath which
threaded its way in and out of a host of bushes and
trees. They began to run as soon as they were on
the footpath, though they did not know where they
were or where it would lead them: but they ran, and
continued to run, until they reached a wider path, and
saw that they were on a big open heath. They
paused to regain their breath and take their bearings.</p>
<p>It was night-time, but the moon which sailed overhead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
in a clear sky made everything almost as light
as day. They were certainly on a heath of some
sort.</p>
<p>“Why, of course,” Jack gasped, very much out
of breath, “this must be the Goblin’s Heath!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br />
<span class="stl">The Goblin’s Heath</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> Goblin’s Heath, with its little crouching
bushes and heather-clad hillocks, looked
very beautiful in the moonlight. Here and
there a tree rising up from the low bushes around
it stood out clearly against the night sky. Toward
the nearest big tree Jack and Molly made their way.
It was a giant of a tree, with great gnarled trunk,
and plenty of room among its lower branches for a
little girl and boy to curl up and rest comfortably
and safely, screened by its thick curtain of leaves.</p>
<p>Once they were safely hidden in the tree, Jack
and Molly had time to talk matters over. They decided
to stay where they were until daylight, when
they could continue their search. They talked and
planned for some time, and then, as their excitement
wore off a little, they began to get very sleepy.
Everything seemed quiet and still around them, but
they would take no more risks that night, so decided
to sleep in turns—one keeping watch, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
waking the other up at certain intervals, or if anything
happened in the meantime. They had no idea
what the time was, so they arranged their intervals
by the moon. When the moon reached a certain
place, Jack, who undertook the first watch (protesting
that he wasn’t tired), was to wake Molly up. So
Molly went to sleep, after making Jack promise that
he would wake her up if she showed any signs of
falling out of the tree. Jack had a hard struggle to
keep awake at first, but he managed it somehow,
and after Molly had woken up and taken a turn
at watching, and he had had a short, sound sleep,
he felt much refreshed.</p>
<p>The time wore on and Jack was just starting
his second watch, and Molly had fallen asleep
again, when he heard a long rustle in one of the
bushes down below. He leant forward, peering down
through the branches; there was evidently something
stirring inside the bush; the leaves rustled
and shook, and then were thrust aside, and a queer
little figure stepped out and stood on the broad
footpath in the moonlight. It was a very small,
quaint man, dressed in brown, with a pointed cap
on his head; he gazed along the pathway for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
moment, then turned and scanned the Heath in the
opposite direction.</p>
<p>Jack gave a start as something moved in the tree
beside him. But it was only Molly, awake, and wide-eyed,
staring down at the little brown man with
absorbed attention.</p>
<p>A squeal of laughter came from among the bushes
a short distance away, and the next second another
little man came running over the grass to the waiting
figure and started talking rapidly. Their voices were
very tiny, and although the sounds floated clearly up
to the listeners in the tree, the words were undistinguishable.
While they watched a third little man
appeared, accompanied by two quaint little women,
dressed in brown skirts and shawls and brown
bonnets. All at once it dawned on Jack and Molly
who these little people were, with the tiny, thin,
dancing legs, and the elfish faces. They were goblins.
And, of course, the Heath was named after them.
The children had not expected to see any goblins on
the heath; they had certainly thought it a picturesque
name to call this part of the country, but they had not
expected any reason for the name. But behold! here
before their eyes were real live goblins, the first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
goblins they had ever seen, and they watched them,
surprised and curious. More goblins now began to
appear on the scene; one after another they came,
darting from behind bushes, sliding down the trunks
of trees or dropping from the branches, racing along
the footpath, skipping over the grass, until by and
by it seemed as if there were tiny brown figures
scurrying to and fro on every side, appearing and
disappearing, here, there, in and out; the whole
Heath seemed to be alive with goblins. Such a
squeaking of tiny voices, a chinking of goblin laughter,
and a pattering of feet; and the goblins seemed to be
all so busy and important and in a feverish haste
about nothing at all.</p>
<p>Presently the children noticed that one of the
goblins had made his way to the foot of their tree and
was very busy dragging and pushing aside a big
stone. He moved it away at length and disclosed a
small hole in the tree trunk, close to the ground. He
bent down and crawled into the hole. A scrambling
and scratching began inside the tree, that sounded, as
the scrambling noise became louder and nearer, as if
the goblin were climbing up to the top of the trunk.</p>
<p>“Oh, Jack, I believe he lives in this tree,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
whispered Molly. “What shall we do if he finds us
up here?” You see, they were not quite sure whether
the goblins were friends or enemies, or how they
would be disposed to regard them.</p>
<p>However, they were soon to know, for a few
seconds later, the scratching and scrambling having
continued until it sounded close underneath where
the children were crouching, the goblin popped its
head up through a hole just beside Jack’s right foot.
The Goblin studied the sole of Jacks shoe attentively
for a moment, then his gaze travelled to Jack, whom
he eyed with mild astonishment. Then he caught
sight of Molly, and transferred his attention to her.
The children remained silent, not knowing what to
say. They could tell nothing of the Goblin’s attitude
toward them from his surprised face. Then he
spoke. His voice sounded very small and far away,
but the children were glad to find that they could
understand what he said.</p>
<p>“Are you real?” asked the Goblin.</p>
<p>“Of course we are,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“What are you?” was the next question.</p>
<p>Molly started to explain, but she soon noticed
that the Goblin was shaking his head, so she stopped.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>
<p>“No ... there isn’t really a place called the Impossible
World, which you can reach through a tree
in a forest,” he said, as if confiding to them a sad
truth. “It’s only a story—a make-believe place—like
Dreamland.”</p>
<p>Molly was taken aback.</p>
<p>“Oh, but there <em>is</em> such a place,” she affirmed.
“We know there is—because we have come from
there.”</p>
<p>“I like to hear you say that—but I don’t believe
you,” said the Goblin, candidly. “I wish I could.
And I wish you <em>were</em> real, indeed I do.”</p>
<p>“We <em>are</em> real,” said Jack, warmly. “We’re as
real as anything. Why, it’s you that is only—that
people say are not—I <span class="nobreak">mean——”</span></p>
<p>“What do you think we are, then, if you don’t
believe we are real people?” asked Molly, quickly,
giving Jack a warning glance.</p>
<p>“Well, you may be only an optical illusion—I may
think I see you, but you may not really be there,”
suggested the Goblin blandly, wagging his quaint little
head from side to side. His head and two little hands
clutching the edge of the hole were still the only
parts visible of him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span></p>
<p>The children gazed down at him. An optical
illusion! This was indeed a horrible thought, and
made Molly pinch herself to make sure she was
really there. Then she laughed.</p>
<p>“We are as real as you are,” she said. Then she
had an inspiration. “As real as Old Nancy,” she
added, watching the Goblin closely.</p>
<p>His expression changed immediately, and a look
of glad surprise crossed his face. “Why, do you
know her?” he asked quickly.</p>
<p>“Rather,” said Jack. “She’s a friend of
ours.”</p>
<p>“Then I am a friend of yours,” said the Goblin,
climbing out of the hole and standing beside the
children. “Whether you are real—or—or—whatever
you are.”</p>
<p>Their recent lesson in trusting people had made
the children more cautious, and although they could
see that they had no choice in their behaviour toward
this little Goblin, as they were powerless to escape
from the Heath with its swarms of goblins, yet they
felt friendly disposed toward him for his own sake.
He seemed quite genuine in his regard for Old Nancy,
and very soon he was sitting in the tree beside them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
chatting away and asking them all about themselves,
and answering questions by the score.</p>
<p>They found that he knew that the Pumpkin had
returned, one of his brother-goblins had brought the
news. And they discovered also that the goblins
were the Pumpkin’s bitter enemies. Then they told
him all about their search for the Black Leaf, and
how they were to search the Heath when daylight
came.</p>
<p>“You won’t see any of us in the daytime,” said
the Goblin. “We’ll be all asleep down our little
holes ... but I don’t think the Black Leaf is anywhere
on the Heath, or one of us would have seen it,
and the news would have soon spread amongst us.”</p>
<p>“Still, I suppose we shall have to search it all
the same ... as we promised,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“Yes, you’re quite right,” agreed the Goblin,
“Besides, we <em>might</em> not have seen it. I’m afraid
you’ll find the Heath very big—but I daresay you
could search it in a day if you start at dawn....
I wish I could help you, but—ah! one thing I
can do—I can send word to you if the Pumpkin
appears anywhere in this neighbourhood while you
are searching the Heath....”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
<p>“That is very kind of you,” said Molly. “It
will help us a lot.”</p>
<p>“And when you come to the village beyond—if you
want to know of some one you can trust—go to Miss
Marigold. Don’t forget the name,” said the Goblin.</p>
<p>“Miss Marigold,” repeated Jack. “I’ll remember.
Thanks, very much.”</p>
<p>“Do you know,” smiled the Goblin, “when I
heard that Old Nancy had sent the Pumpkin to the
Impossible World, I thought it was a place like
Dreamland—or a make-believe place, but now—if
you say that you really are—I suppose you can’t
come down from the tree and let the other goblins
see you?”</p>
<p>The children were about to reply, when a great
hubbub and excitement arose among the goblins
below, as a new goblin dashed in among them with
some exciting news.</p>
<p>“Wait here,” said the Goblin, “and I’ll go and
find what it’s all about.”</p>
<p>He soon climbed down and appeared among the
crowd of eager, chattering goblins. Presently he
slipped away again and scrambled up the tree to the
children.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p>
<p>“I’m glad you didn’t come down,” he said.
“They are searching for you—the Pumpkin’s spies
are; an old woman and a young girl. Some of the
goblins saw them about half an hour ago, on the
main road over the Heath.”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly began to shiver a little.</p>
<p>“It’s all right,” said the Goblin. “I haven’t told
the goblins where you are. I thought they’d be sure
to want to see you, and this, of course, would
attract attention. But I <em>have</em> told them to go
and have some sport and to lead the old hag and
the girl a real dance. I told them they were the
Pumpkin’s spies—they <em>will</em> lead them a dance
too—making crackly noises in the bushes to lead
them off the track—and running—and squealing—a
regular goblins’ dance we’ll lead them.
I’ll go too and tell you what happens. I’ll be
back before dawn—this is my home, you know—this
tree. Good-bye for the present,” and he dashed
away.</p>
<p>The children saw him swoop into a group of
excited goblins and urge them to follow him—which
they did. And presently there was scarcely a goblin
in sight. They had all gone trooping away to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>
place on the Heath where the old woman and the girl
were searching for Jack and Molly.</p>
<p>It seemed to the children that they waited in
the tree for hours and hours, waiting, listening.
Occasional sounds floated to them from the distance.
They could hear squeaking and crackling, and once
they heard a shrill scream. But they saw nothing,
until the dawn broke.</p>
<p>Almost immediately afterward the Goblin returned,
darting from out of the bushes opposite, popping into
the hole in the tree trunk and scrambling up to
them. In the pale glimmer of the morning light
he told them what had happened, and how they
had twice prevented the old woman from turning
down the path that led past the children’s hiding-place.</p>
<p>“They are gone from the Heath now,” he said.
“We drove them home, in the end, by darting out
and pinching their legs and throwing prickly leaves
at them. There were thousands of us goblins....
I wish you could have seen us.... When they found
we were really in earnest and meant to get rid of
them, and were not just teasing—they soon went.
The old hag tried to tread on some of us—she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>
so angry; but we snatched her shoe off and threw it
into a pond.”</p>
<p>“It’s very kind of you to have helped us so,”
said Molly.</p>
<p>“We enjoyed it,” said the Goblin. “It was great
fun. And they really deserved it, you know.”</p>
<p>And now that it was daybreak the Goblin bade
good-bye to the children. “Remember,” he said, “I
will find some means of warning you throughout
the day, if the Pumpkin is near.” He popped down
his hole; they heard him scramble a little way inside
the tree—then all was quiet.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly looking out from the tree saw
that all the other goblins had vanished. They waited
a while until the day came, then they climbed down
from their hiding-place, stretched themselves, and at
once set about their search.</p>
<p>It was a difficult task, and a long one, for there
seemed countless thick bushes, trees, hillocks, and
winding paths on the Goblin’s Heath. But they
plodded on, searching eagerly and carefully. For a
couple of hours they worked, then as the morning
advanced they remembered that they had had nothing
to eat since yesterday. So they climbed up another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>
tree, so as not to be taken by surprise, and finished
up the remains of Glan’s ‘snack,’ while they discussed
their plans for the day—studying their map
so as not to leave any part of the Heath unsearched.</p>
<p>“There’s one bit I’m afraid we must go back and
do,” said Molly, “though I don’t like the idea of
going near there again. You remember, Jack—we
did not search the little bit of lane just beyond
that—that house yesterday; that bit and the very
beginning of the Heath.”</p>
<p>They did not like the idea of going back to the
Third Green Lane at all. But they went. When
they came within sight of the lane they were amazed
to find that the house had gone. It had vanished
completely. Jack and Molly could scarcely believe
their eyes at first, but on the whole they were distinctly
relieved that it wasn’t there; nevertheless,
they searched the end of the lane and the edge of the
Heath quickly, with constant, watchful eyes on the
place where the house had been. Having satisfied
themselves that the leaf was nowhere about there,
they proceeded to the spot where they had left off
searching, and continued peering among the bushes
and trees and heather of the Goblin’s Heath.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>
<p>Hour after hour passed by, and the day wore on.
Still they plodded away at their task, keeping together
and listening always, in case a message came
from the Goblin. When they got hungry again,
they ate some of Old Nancy’s little brown sweets,
and found them very refreshing.</p>
<p>In the daylight they could hardly imagine it was
the same Heath that they had seen by moonlight;
there was not the slightest trace of goblins, or spies.
That is, not the slightest trace until they came across
a pond and saw, half out of the water, and stuck in
the soft mud, a shoe: a curiously shaped shoe, which
they remembered, vaguely, seeing before—on the
foot of the old woman with the horrible eyes. This
was evidently the shoe that the goblins had thrown
into the pond. The sight of it made all their recent
adventures return vividly to their minds, and made
them very unwilling to be still on the Heath when
night came. So they hastened on their way.</p>
<p>Evening was already approaching when they
finally came to the end of their day’s search, and no
sign of the Black Leaf had they found. As no
warning had come from the Goblin and they had not
been disturbed in any way, they felt, on the whole,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
all the better for their open-air day on the sunny,
wind-swept Heath; though they were tired now, and
not at all sorry to turn their footsteps toward the
little village, which appeared close at hand, at the
edge of the Heath.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br />
<span class="stl">Timothy Gives Them a Clue</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Miss Marigold</span> was in the garden tying
up the sunflowers as Jack and Molly
passed her cottage, which was the fourth
one along the village street. Such a quaint little
village street it was, with cobbled stones, and grass
growing in the roadway, and bunchy white cottages
with thatched roofs. The children did not know the
name of the lady in the garden, of course, and were
just wondering where Miss Marigold lived, when
they saw a card hanging in the window, on which
was printed:</p>
<p class="bbox">
MISS MARIGOLD<br />
<i>Teas Provided. Apartments.</i>
</p>
<p>They stopped. Miss Marigold looked up from
her flowers and saw two tired little faces looking at
her over the gate. Miss Marigold was tall and thin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
and looked neither old nor young, but between the
two. Her thick hair, which was of a pale yellow
colour, was neatly braided round her head; she was
dressed in a dark green dress with snow-white collar
and cuffs. She looked kind when she smiled, and
as she smiled when she saw the children they made
up their minds to stay there if they could. So they
opened the gate and entered her garden.</p>
<p>She listened while they told her who they were
and what they wanted.</p>
<p>“I shall be pleased to give you accommodation,”
she said in her gentle, stiff little manner. “And
you would like a cup of hot tea and some toasted
muffins at once, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly felt that there was nothing they
would like more than tea and muffins, but they told
Miss Marigold that they had no money with them,
and asked her what they could do for her to earn
their tea, bed, and breakfast.</p>
<p>“Nothing at all. You are searching for the
Black Leaf—that is enough. You will have done
more for me, and for the whole country, than can
ever be repaid, if you find it,” said Miss Marigold,
and led the way into her cottage, which was quaint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
and old-fashioned, with low, oak-beamed ceilings and
sloping floors.</p>
<p>The children had a refreshing wash, then sat
down to a well-spread table—hot tea, and toasted
muffins and eggs, and brown bread and butter, and
honey, and fresh fruit. Over tea they told Miss
Marigold about their search, and the latest doings
of the Pumpkin. Miss Marigold had never actually
seen the Pumpkin, but she had heard much about
him, of course, and was very interested in the
children’s account.</p>
<p>“We have only just received news, in the village
here, that the Pumpkin has returned. One of the
villagers, who went to the city, came riding back
over the Goblin’s Heath with the news,” she told
the children.</p>
<p>While they were talking they heard footsteps on
the garden path outside the window, and then came
a tap at the door. Jack and Molly started. But
Miss Marigold rose leisurely saying, with a shake
of her head, “I told him not to stay as late as
this.” Then she opened the door. “Ah! come in,
Timothy,” she said.</p>
<p>Timothy came in. Catching sight of strangers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
in the room, he paused, hesitating on the mat,
nervously twisting his cap in his hands. Timothy
was a fat, awkward-looking boy, about twelve years
old, with puffy cheeks, and round eyes, and a simple
expression. Miss Marigold introduced him as her
nephew, much to the children’s surprise, as he was
utterly unlike his aunt in every way—in looks especially,
except for the hair, which was the same pale
yellow colour.</p>
<p>“Timothy has been out to a tea-party to-day,”
said Miss Marigold to the children. “Haven’t you,
Timothy?”</p>
<p>“Umth,” lisped Timothy, in a thick voice, nodding
his head.</p>
<p>“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” said Molly,
politely.</p>
<p>“Perapths,” replied Timothy, sitting down on the
extreme edge of a chair.</p>
<p>Molly looked puzzled, but he seemed well-meaning,
and she felt sorry for him as he appeared to be
so nervous.</p>
<p>“What kept you so late?” asked his aunt. “You
ought to have been home an hour ago—you know
I don’t like you being out after dusk.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p>
<p>Timothy blushed and began a jerky, stammering
sort of explanation. His aunt frowned a little and
looked at him suspiciously.</p>
<p>“You haven’t been on the Goblin’s Heath, have
you?” Miss Marigold asked.</p>
<p>“No, ma’m,” replied Timothy, promptly. “Where
have you come from?” he asked Jack suddenly.</p>
<p>“We’ve just come from the Goblin’s Heath,” replied
Jack; and at Timothy’s eager request to be
told about their adventures, Jack started to tell
him about their search. Timothy appeared to listen
intently, until presently his aunt got up and went out
of the room to prepare the bedrooms. Immediately
he leant across the table and interrupted.</p>
<p>“Here!” he exclaimed suddenly.</p>
<p>Jack stopped speaking, and stared at Timothy,
who was obviously in a very excited state.</p>
<p>“Here, I thay! What do you thig?” said
Timothy.</p>
<p>“What? What is it? What’s the matter?” asked
Jack.</p>
<p>“I theen <em>it</em>,” said Timothy, and exploded with
laughter.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly exchanged bewildered glances,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
while Timothy rolled and rocked in his chair with
laughter till the tears ran down his fat white cheeks.
He continued to gasp and laugh until Molly grew
quite concerned about him, and jumping off her
chair she ran to the door to call his aunt. This
sobered him immediately and he sprang up waving
his hand to stop her.</p>
<p>“Don’t, don’t,” he managed to gasp. “I alwayth
laugh when ... he! he! he!... when I exthited
... don’t call aunt ... I tell you ... he! he! he!
he!... in a minute.”</p>
<p>When he had quieted down a bit he said:</p>
<p>“Aunt muthn’t know, becauth ’e thig I been out
to tea—well, I haven’t—and I been where ’e told me
not to go, and I <em>theen</em> it!” He was getting fearfully
excited again.</p>
<p>“Seen what? Oh, do tell us,” said Molly.</p>
<p>“The ... he! he! he!...” Timothy giggled.
“The ... Black Leaf!”</p>
<p>“Oh,” cried Jack and Molly together, their questions
tumbling over each other in their eagerness.
“Where is it? Where did you see it? Did you
pick it? What did you do with it?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t pick it—I couldn’t get near it,” Timothy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
answered. “But I know where it ith....” He leant
toward them and whispered hoarsely, his eyes round
and bulging. “... In the Orange Wood.”</p>
<p>Timothy went on to tell them how he had happened
to see it. It seemed that he had been forbidden by
his aunt to go on to the Goblin’s Heath, or into the
Orange Wood, because it was rumoured that the
Pumpkin’s spies were in hiding in both these places—it
was even said by some that the Pumpkin himself
had been seen on the Heath yesterday. Although
Timothy didn’t believe this, he said, he longed to
explore both the wood and the heath, and to-day he
had deceived his aunt, pretending he was going to
tea with a friend and instead had slipped into the
wood, which lay just beyond the village, and had
wandered about there. He had come across Mr
Papingay’s house in the wood—which he had often
heard about, but never seen before. (Mr Papingay!
Jack and Molly recognised the name, of course; it
was Glan’s relation.) He was a funny old man, was
Mr Papingay, said Timothy; and it was a funny
house. And the Black Leaf was growing in a plant-pot,
in the house! Only don’t tell his aunt he’d been
in the wood, he pleaded, she would be angry with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
him, and perhaps send him away home to his father:
and he didn’t want to go home yet.</p>
<p>“Wait till you’ve got the Leaf—then it won’t
matter,” said Timothy.</p>
<p>He seemed so distressed at the idea of his aunt
knowing of his disobedience (although she didn’t
seem the kind of aunt to be too severe, Molly thought)
that the children promised they would say nothing
about it.</p>
<p>“Couldn’t you come with us, to-morrow, and
show us the way?” said Jack.</p>
<p>But Timothy shook his head. “I rather you tell
me about it afterwarth,” he said. “I had enough of
the wood. Ith too full of crackly noith. I ran all
the way home,” he confessed. “Oh, and thereth one
thig. Don’t let Mr Papingay know you’ve come for
the Leaf. He’th a funny old man, perapth he
wouldn’t let you have it. Wait till you thee it. It
wath on the kitchen window thill—inthide—when I
thaw it.”</p>
<p>The children thanked Timothy, and were discussing
eagerly to-morrow’s plans, when Miss Marigold
looked in to say all was ready upstairs.</p>
<p>“I heard you laughing a lot just now, Timothy,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>
she remarked. “That tea-party made you very excited,
I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“Umth,” agreed Timothy, meekly.</p>
<p>The children were very tired that night, and in
spite of their excitement they slept soundly in the
comfortable, warm beds Miss Marigold had prepared
for them.</p>
<p>Their first waking thoughts were of the plant-pot
in Mr Papingay’s house: they longed to be off to
the Orange Wood without delay. But they discovered,
on arriving downstairs, that the village had
made other plans for them. Somehow the news had
spread that two people from the Impossible World
had come to search the village for the Black Leaf,
and the villagers meant to welcome them handsomely
and give them all the help they could. During
breakfast the children noticed that people kept stopping
and peering in through the window at them, and
from remarks dropped by Miss Marigold they understood
that they would create great disappointment,
if not give real offence, unless they searched the
village thoroughly that day—and in sight of the
people. Jack and Molly began to feel as if they
were a sort of show or entertainment. However, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
talked things over together, and calculating that the
village ought not to take more than a few hours to
do—as it was very small—they decided that perhaps
they had better search it first, and then in the afternoon
start off into the Orange Wood. After all
Timothy might have made a mistake, and the Leaf
might be in the village after all; it would never do
to pass it by.</p>
<p>So they set to work immediately after breakfast,
much refreshed by their long sleep and the wholesome,
good food that Miss Marigold had set before
them. They thanked her warmly and said good-bye
to Timothy, then stepped out into another day of
sunshine.</p>
<p>But they had reckoned their time without the
villagers. So insistent and eager were they to help
the children that they hindered and delayed them in
every way. Children and men and women suggested
likely places where the Black Leaf might be growing,
and insisted on taking Jack and Molly to the places;
but each search proved in vain.</p>
<p>They searched a field by special request of the
man who owned it, and who expressed great surprise
when told that the Leaf was not there. (Although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
he knew very well that the Leaf was not there as he
had already gone over the field himself. Still he
felt he couldn’t have his ground neglected when all
his neighbours’ fields were being searched.)</p>
<p>And one old lady insisted on digging up her
window box to show them that the Leaf wasn’t there,
conscious of the importance she was gaining in the
eyes of her neighbours while the children stayed
about her place.</p>
<p>The attention they received made the children
rather uncomfortable. However, every garden, every
yard of roadway, every field and lane and paddock,
and even every plant-pot, having been searched to
the villagers’ (and the children’s) satisfaction, Jack
and Molly at length said good-bye to the village and
turned eagerly toward the Orange Wood.</p>
<p>The afternoon was well advanced by this time,
and the sun gleaming through the trees in the wood
turned the gold and brown leaves on the branches to
a mass of flaming colour.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br />
<span class="stl">Mr Papingay’s House in the
Orange Wood</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">As</span> soon as the children entered the wood all
sounds of life seemed to die away, and
everything was still. No birds sang or
fluttered overhead; no little wood animals scurried
through the dry, dead leaves on the ground; no
breeze rustled the golden leaves on the trees; the
sun shone softly through the branches and cast a
strange orange-coloured shimmer over the scene—which
accounted for the name by which the wood
was known. As Jack and Molly went along they
found themselves talking to each other in whispers,
afraid to disturb the brooding quietness of the wood;
the sound of their footsteps on the path seemed
unusually loud.</p>
<p>“I say, Molly, what do you say if we keep to the
footpath and go straight to Mr Papingay’s house as
quickly as possible and see if it really is the Leaf?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
Then we can search the rest of the wood afterward—if
it isn’t,” suggested Jack.</p>
<p>Molly agreed readily. Remembering that it was
rumoured that the wood was full of the Pumpkin’s
spies, the children had great hopes that it was the
Black Leaf in Mr Papingay’s plant-pot; for the spies
would surely be stationed all around the place where
the Black Leaf grew, to guard it.</p>
<p>“Thank goodness we know we can trust Mr
Papingay,” said Molly. “If we can only find him.
Oh, Jack, if only it is the Leaf, won’t it be splendid!”
Molly broke off and glanced over her shoulder.
“How awfully quiet everything is, Jack—just as
if the wood were <em>listening</em>!... Oh! What was
that!”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t anything. Don’t, Molly. You gave
me quite a jump,” Jack said unsteadily, looking over
his shoulder too. The light in the wood was beginning
to fade, and under the distant trees dim
shadows gathered.</p>
<p>“I thought I heard some twigs crackling—a
snapping sound,” said Molly, wide-eyed.</p>
<p>“Well, you needn’t say so, Moll, if you did. But
anyway, I’m not afraid—if you are.” Nevertheless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
Jack quickened his pace to a sharp trot, and Molly
had some difficulty in keeping up with him.</p>
<p>“I’m not afraid, either,” she gasped.</p>
<p>“Nor am I,” repeated Jack, and went a little
faster.</p>
<p>Then they both began to run.</p>
<p>“Of course—we ought—to—get there—as quick—as—we
can—so—as not to—waste—any—time,”
Molly jerked out, apologizing as it were to herself
and to Jack for their sudden haste.</p>
<p>They ran along the footpath for a short distance
until, a little way ahead of them, they saw an open
space in the wood, in the centre of which stood a
house.</p>
<p>“Let’s—stop—Molly,” said Jack, breathlessly.
They both pulled up and stood still for a few
moments. “It wouldn’t—do—for—us—to run in—on—on—him
like this. It might look as if—as if
we were—as if——oh, well, it would look funny,
you know.”</p>
<p>Molly agreed. So they waited until they had
got their breath again, then they walked casually
out into the open space. The trees stood round
the clearing in a wide circle, and above the house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>
was a big expanse of sky. It seemed quite light
out here after the dim light of the wood.</p>
<p>It was a queer-looking house that faced them,
but what it was about the house that made it queer
Jack and Molly could not at first make out. Around
it was a square of asphalt, and drawing nearer they
saw that on the asphalt, all round the four sides,
were rows of narrow white streaks, that looked like
railings lying down flat; and this is what they
actually proved to be—only they were not real railings,
they were painted on the ground with white
paint. The children looked up, and then they
realized what it was that made the house look funny.
Nearly everything on it and about it was <em>not real</em>
but painted. The house itself was real, and so was
the front door; but the knocker and handle and
letter-box were all painted on. Three of the
windows seemed real, but there were three more
that were obviously painted on, and were obviously
the work of some one not greatly skilled in the art
of painting. There was a large tree painted on the
asphalt, and a row of tulips, and a path bordered by
painted stones that led up to the front door.</p>
<p>The children were gazing at these things in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
astonishment when the front door suddenly opened,
and the owner of the house appeared on the
threshold.</p>
<p>“Come inside,” he called affably, peering at them
over the top of his spectacles. “The latch on the
gate pulls downward. Don’t be afraid of the dog;
he won’t hurt you if I speak to him. There, Percy,
there! Down, sir! There’s a good dog!”</p>
<p>Jack and Molly looked round wonderingly, but
could not see any signs of a dog, till their eyes
caught sight of a black smudge of paint, which
proved on closer acquaintance to be a black dog
chained to a red kennel—both painted flat on the
ground a few feet inside the gate. The children
gazed at each other questioningly; then Glan’s words
came back to them, “Humour him, he’s a queer old
soul.”</p>
<p>So Molly bent down and pretended to pull the
latch on the gate down; she and Jack walked carefully
on to the asphalt over the flat gate, then she
turned and pretended to close and latch the gate
again. As they passed the painted dog, she had
another happy idea. “Good dog. Good dog,” she
said, and stooped and patted the asphalt.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
<p>The old man beamed down upon her. “He’s
quite harmless when I tell him it’s all right,” he
confided, “but you should just see him when he’s
roused. Stand on the step and I’ll tell him there’s
a bath-chair round the corner. He hates ’em.”</p>
<p>The children could not see a real step, but spying
a painted white square by the front door, they stood
on that.</p>
<p>“Now then,” cried the old man, “at ’em, Percy,
at ’em! There’s a bath-chair a-comin’ round the
corner!”</p>
<p>There was a dead silence while the painted dog
gazed with unseeing eyes up at the sky, and a little
breeze rustled in the tree-tops.</p>
<p>“Isn’t he furious?” chuckled the old man, beaming
proudly from the dog to the children. “Go
it, old boy! Give it ’em!”</p>
<p>As he seemed to expect an answer to his question,
Molly said: “He—he—certainly looks very
fierce, doesn’t he?”</p>
<p>“That’s nothing to what he can look,” said Mr
Papingay, obviously delighted at Molly’s reply.
“But, come inside, come inside.”</p>
<p>So the children entered the narrow, dark hall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span>
and Mr Papingay shut the front door behind
them.</p>
<p>“This way,” he said, crushing past them and
throwing open a door on the right. “Come inside
and sit down a bit. This is my study. What do
you think of it?”</p>
<p>As the question was asked before Jack and Molly
were inside the room there was naturally a short
interval before Molly could reply, politely:</p>
<p>“What a very—er—uncommon room.”</p>
<p>“All done by myself,” said the old man, waving
his hand with a sweeping movement toward the
walls.</p>
<p>The children followed the hand-sweep and saw
rows upon rows of books painted round the walls.
There was no doubt about them being painted. And
they noticed also that the carpet, chairs, tables,
curtains, and even the fireplace were all painted in
this amazing room. Jack’s eyes travelled rapidly
over the room, but not a single real thing could he
see in it except himself, and Molly, and the old man
standing in front of him; and he looked at the latter
twice to make sure that he was real and not simply
made of paint like the other things. But Mr Papingay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
was real enough with his spectacles and bald head.
The only hair he possessed grew like a fringe at the
back of his head, low down, just above the nape of
his neck—and under his chin a little fringe of
whiskers appeared; he had round, blue eyes and
eyebrows set high that gave him a look of continual
surprise; over a dark-coloured suit he wore a brown
plaid dressing-gown, with long cord and tassels, and
on his feet were a pair of very old red felt carpet
slippers. And then Jack’s roving eye noticed that
the buttons on his dressing-gown were painted on;
but that was the only bit of paint about Mr Papingay.</p>
<p>“You see, it’s so handy making my own things,”
he was explaining to Molly. “I can have any kind
of things I like and change them as often as I like.”</p>
<p>“Don’t you find the chairs rather awkward to sit
on?” inquired Jack.</p>
<p>“Not at all. Why should I?” replied the old
man, slightly offended.</p>
<p>“Well—I—er—well, you see—they’re not real,
are they?” Jack blundered on.</p>
<p>“Not real! What do you mean?” snapped Mr
Papingay. “Of course they’re real. Sit on one and
see.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
<p>“Don’t be silly, Jack,” Molly broke in. “They
certainly look most comfortable. I do think it is
clever of you to make them,” she said to the old
man.</p>
<p>“Oh, no, no. Not at all. Simple enough,” said
Mr Papingay airily, appeased at once. “But you
try one. They may look comfortable, but it’s nothing
to what they are to sit on. You try one,” he urged.</p>
<p>So Molly pretended to sit down on one of the
painted chairs. It was a most curious sensation.
Although she knew there was no chair there she felt
somehow as if she really were sitting on a chair; so
that when the old man asked her, with a self-conscious
smile on his face, “Now, isn’t it comfortable?” she
could answer truthfully, “Yes, it really is.”</p>
<p>Yet, afterward, Jack told her that he had tried
one of the chairs when she and the old man were not
looking, and had nearly fallen on the floor. “I found
it anything but comfortable—the silly old ass,” he
said.</p>
<p>When they had admired the study to the old man’s
content he led them out into the hall again and up
the stairs to a curious little room he called his
visitors room. As they went upstairs Molly tried to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>
tell their host who they were and how they knew
Glan and his father, but he kept up a constant stream
of conversation himself and took no notice of her
remarks.</p>
<p>The children found the visitors room more
difficult than ever to be truthful and yet polite in.
It had been hard to pretend the painted stair-carpet
was soft and real, and that the books in the study could
be taken out and read; but these things were nothing
compared to the difficulties in the visitors room. It
was a small, high-ceilinged room, furnished with
painted chairs and tables; only, in addition to the
painted furniture were painted people. Round the
walls and on the floor, people standing, people sitting,
ladies, gentlemen, girls and boys; some with hats on
as if paying an afternoon call, some with hats off as if
they had come to spend the day. But one and all,
without exception, were simply painted people. On
the panes of one of the real windows was painted the
figure of a sandy-haired man, back view; this gentleman,
who was dressed in a dull grey suit and a high
white collar, was apparently looking out of the
window.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus05"></a>
<img src="images/illus05.jpg" width="404" height="550" alt="" />
<p class="caption">ONE AND ALL WERE SIMPLY PAINTED PEOPLE</p>
</div>
<p>As the children glanced round at these queer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
silent people, hesitating what to do, they became
aware that the old man was murmuring some
kind of introduction to a painted lady in bright
purple.</p>
<p>“This is my dear friend, Mrs Pobjoy,” he was
saying. “Mrs Pobjoy, allow me to introduce you to
my two little friends—er—what are your names, by
the way?”</p>
<p>The children told him, and took this opportunity
of explaining who they were and how they knew
Glan.</p>
<p>“Dear me, dear me!” said Mr Papingay. “How
very extraordinary!” and he shook hands affably, and
then he introduced them to Mr Pobjoy—a red-faced
gentleman painted on the wall beside his wife.</p>
<p>Molly bowed politely. “I’m very pleased to meet
you,” she said, and gave Jack a nudge with her
elbow.</p>
<p>“Howjer do?” said Jack, feeling an awful ass.</p>
<p>The painted lady in bright purple stared vacantly
down at the two children.</p>
<p>“Mrs Pobjoy’s always delighted to see new faces,
aren’t you, ma’m? Ah, ha! A regular butterfly.
A regular butterfly. What do you say, Pobjoy?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
and Mr Papingay gave the painted figure of Mr
Pobjoy a dig in the ribs, then turned from one to the
other of his painted visitors chattering and laughing,
and shaking his head. “And here’s little Maudie.
Well, and how is Maudie to-day?” and he stooped
and playfully flicked the cheeks of a fat-faced little
girl with yellow hair and a pink frock who was
leaning against a painted sideboard. “Here’s a little
girl to see you, Maudie. You’ll like that, won’t
you?” He turned to the children. “I’m afraid
she’s rather peevish this evening. She is sometimes.
It’s best to take no notice—she’ll come round presently.
Here’s Mr Waffer, here by the window—I
won’t introduce you to him just at present, he’s probably
just got an inspiration I should think, by the
way he stands absorbed in the scenery outside. He’s
a poet, you know.... But come over here and let
Lizzie and her sister see you.” He bundled away
across the room followed by the two children.</p>
<p>“I say, Molly,” whispered Jack, “do you think
we should see the front of Mr Waffer through the
window if we went outside and looked up. I <em>would</em>
like to see his face.”</p>
<p>“Why?” asked Molly with interest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
<p>“Because I don’t believe he has one. Do remind
me to look as we go out,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“This,” the old man was saying as they came
up to him, “is Lizzie and here’s her sister. Very
bright girls, both of them,” he added in an undertone
so that the green-frocked Lizzie should not hear.
And so he moved on introducing them to one after
the other, and it began to look as if he would never
tear himself away from the visitors room. At length
Molly told him that they would not be able to stay
much longer as they wished to get out of the Orange
Wood before darkness came down.</p>
<p>“Oh, you mustn’t go yet,” he protested. “I’ve
got a lot more to show you yet.... Ah! and that
reminds me.... But first you must come and see
my kitchen arrangements; they are absolutely first-rate;
and then I have something very exciting to tell
you.” He nodded his head mysteriously.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly exchanged significant glances.
As they followed him downstairs it struck them that
although he was introducing them to everything and
everybody in his house, yet he had never troubled to
introduce himself. He had forgotten about that.
He led the way to the kitchen, and the children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>
noticed, in passing, a servant carrying a tray, painted
on the passage wall a few yards from the kitchen
door. (“How tiresome it must be for her never
to get any farther,” thought Molly, but she didn’t
say anything.)</p>
<p>The kitchen was very like the other rooms, nearly
all paint. It worried Molly a little to notice that
the sink was painted on the wall, and she wondered
however Mr Papingay managed to wash up the cups
and saucers in the tin bowl that was painted inside
the sink; especially as the taps and cups and saucers
appeared to be real. But she was afraid to ask any
questions in case it delayed the “exciting” news that
they were longing to hear.</p>
<p>A quick glance at the kitchen window sill on
entering the room showed them that there was no
plant-pot there now. After Mr Papingay had taken
them a tour of the kitchen and they had admired
everything from the oven with the painted round of
beef on the shelf to the painted egg-whisk hanging
on the dresser, their host bade them be seated on a
bench by the kitchen window—which happened to be
a real bench, much to Jack’s relief—and then he
said:</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p>
<p>“There is something I think you ought to know.”
He shut the kitchen door carefully so that the servant
painted in the passage should not hear, while the
children’s hearts began to beat rapidly. Mr Papingay
came back and stood before them.</p>
<p>“The Grey Pumpkin has returned to this land,”
he said solemnly, then waited for the exclamations of
amazement which did not come.</p>
<p>“Of course, we know,” said Jack, after a short
pause.</p>
<p>Mr Papingay looked both surprised and offended.
“Why, how’s this?” he asked.</p>
<p>And the children told him, and explained about
the search they were making.</p>
<p>“Well, well, well,” he said at length. “I’ve been
searching for the Black Leaf too. I searched every
inch of the Orange Wood thoroughly, directly I
heard the Pumpkin was back again. <em>And</em>—this is
what I really wanted to tell you—what do you think
I did when I found that the Black Leaf wasn’t anywhere
in the wood?” he asked excitedly.</p>
<p>“What?” cried both children together.</p>
<p>“Painted a Black Leaf,” he said triumphantly,
beaming with joy. “And here it is.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>
<p>He opened a cupboard door behind him and
disclosed a plant-pot (which was real) in which grew
a black leaf (which was painted). In fact it was so
entirely artificial that it wasn’t even a real leaf
coloured black: it was cut out of newspaper, and
painted with a thick black paint.</p>
<p>Jack and Molly did not speak for a moment or
two. They could not. They were so thoroughly
disappointed. Had they wasted all this valuable
time ‘humouring’ Mr Papingay for nothing more
than this? They had hardly realized how high
their hopes had been, until now, when they were
flung to the ground. It was with an effort that
Molly kept back her tears; as for Jack, he felt he
would like to kick something.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Mr Papingay was perplexed at their
silence. He lifted the pot down and set it on the
floor in front of the bench.</p>
<p>“Well, what do you think of it?” he asked.</p>
<p>“What are you going to do with it?” asked
Jack.</p>
<p>“I will tell you,” said Mr Papingay. “I have
decided that you shall have the leaf and take it back
to the City. I was wondering, only yesterday, whom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
I could send it by. It isn’t time for my yearly visit
to the City yet, and besides, Percy has rather a nasty
little cough—I can’t leave him till he’s better, poor
old chap.”</p>
<p>“But it won’t be—be the same as the real Black
Leaf,” said Jack.</p>
<p>“Why not? Why not?” asked the old man
touchily.</p>
<p>“Well—it isn’t magic, is it?” objected Jack.
“It won’t have any power over the Pumpkin.”</p>
<p>“I won’t guarantee that it isn’t magic, though
it may not have the same power over the Pumpkin,”
the old man admitted. “But what’s the odds! They
won’t know—the people won’t know—and anyway
it’s very handsome to look at—and just think of
how surprised everybody will be....”</p>
<p>The children could see that it was no use arguing
the matter. Mr Papingay was beginning to look
quite hurt and annoyed, and so to humour him
and to save any further delay the children thanked
him and said they would be pleased to take it with
them. (They little guessed then how glad they
would be later on that they had taken it with
them.)</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
<p>“It’s very clever of you to make it,” said Molly.</p>
<p>Immediately Mr Papingay’s ill-humour vanished,
and he smiled down at the leaf in an affectionate
manner.</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t know about being clever,” he said.
“Well—it’s not a bad piece of work,” he admitted
modestly.</p>
<p>“Well now—I think we really must be going,”
said Molly, “or else it will be too dark in the
wood for us to find our way. Shall we pick the
leaf and take it with us, then?”</p>
<p>“It looks so well in the pot—I like it best in
the pot—take the plant-pot, too,” said Mr Papingay.
“I shall be coming to the City in a few days and
then you must tell me all about it—what the people
said when they saw it and—I suppose you <em>are</em> going
straight back to the City?” he inquired. “You
won’t want to bother to search for the other Black
Leaf now, until you see what the people say to this
one, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>Self-centred Mr Papingay! He actually thought
the children would be more anxious to hear what
people said about his leaf, than to continue their
search for the real Leaf. But the children were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
quite determined about continuing their work and
at length made him understand that they must go
on; but they were hoping, they said, to return to
the City shortly when they would be very pleased
to show his leaf. Mr Papingay cheered up a bit
at this, and said they had better take it then, as
they would be bound to reach the City before him.
Then he asked them where they were going to search
next.</p>
<p>“You needn’t bother about this wood—I’ve
searched it from end to end, thoroughly—as I
told you. And besides,” said Mr Papingay, “it
isn’t wise to linger in this wood just now. The
Pumpkin has spies about all over the place. Of
course, they never touch me—Percy wouldn’t let them—but
you two—! And I’m quite certain the Leaf
isn’t in this wood—or I’d have had it before now.”</p>
<p>The children had not much faith in Mr
Papingay’s careful searching, but glancing through
the window they saw that it was now getting too
dark to search the wood that night. They had better
get out of it as quickly as possible, even if they
had to return and search it in the morning.</p>
<p>They became aware of Mr Papingay murmuring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
something in the way of an apology for not asking
them to stay over night there—but he was already
overcrowded with visitors, the Pobjoys and others,
he said. He knew of a nice little farmhouse outside
the wood where they would be comfortable.
The children were pleased to know of the farmhouse;
not for worlds would they have spent a night in
this silent wood. Mr Papingay was so careless, he
would be sure to leave a window unfastened, and
the Pumpkin’s spies would creep out from the trees
and get into the house. At least, this is what the
children felt, but they thanked Mr Papingay and told
him not to apologize at all as they really couldn’t
stay, but must go along.</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you what, then,” said Mr Papingay.
“I’ll just get my lantern and come along with you
and show you the quickest way out of the wood to
the farmhouse.”</p>
<p>The children were much relieved at this, feeling
that company and a light in the dusky wood before
them was an unexpected blessing. After a great
deal of fuss and bustle he found his lantern and
escorted them through the front door—calling some
final words of instruction to Percy (who remained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
gazing pensively up at the evening sky); they passed
through the gate, or rather, stepped off the asphalt,
and started out. Mr Papingay insisted on carrying
his plant-pot and leaf until he should have to part
with it at the end of the wood; so with this under
his left arm, and his lantern swinging in his right
hand he strode ahead of the children, crying cheerily:</p>
<p>“Come along, come along. I’ll show you a short
cut out of the wood. Ah! I’m glad I brought my
lantern—it’ll be dark enough in some parts of the
wood.”</p>
<p>The children followed, gazing with puzzled expressions
at his lantern. Then they understood.
There would be no light from it in the darkest parts
of the wood, for it was only a painted lantern.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br />
<span class="stl">Jack’s Misfortune</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> children were obliged to walk quickly
in order to keep pace with their guide,
who trotted along rapidly, never troubling
to glance round to see if they were coming. Once
they had left the clearing and the queer little house
behind them, and plunged into the wood, they found
it quite dark; and darker still as they got farther in.
Strange crackly noises could be heard from time to
time behind the bushes and trees, which suggested
all sorts of things to you if you happened to be a
little girl or boy with a fairly active imagination.</p>
<p>Of course, there was always Old Nancy’s gift—the
matches—if the darkness grew unbearable. Both
Jack and Molly remembered the matches, but they
did not feel quite sure whether this was the proper
time to use them, as they were afraid of offending
their guide if they suggested that his lantern did not
give enough light.</p>
<p>They trotted along in silence for a time, until a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
particularly loud crack behind a bush close by startled
Molly and made her feel that she could not bear the
silence any longer.</p>
<p>“Don’t you find it very lonely here—living by
yourself in the wood?” she asked the hurrying figure
in front of her.</p>
<p>“Eh?” asked Mr Papingay.</p>
<p>It was such a relief to talk that Molly gladly
repeated her question.</p>
<p>“Not a bit of it,” replied the old man, without
slackening his pace or turning round. “Why
should I? I have plenty of visitors—and Percy to
take care of me.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but aren’t you afraid of—robbers—or anything?”
asked Molly.</p>
<p>“Robbers!” the old man chuckled. “I should
like to see the robber that could get past Percy.
Besides, what is there to steal? That’s the best of
a house like mine, you see. No one can take things
from me. I get all the use and pleasure I want out
of the things I paint—then when I want new things
I paint the old ones out and paint fresh ones in their
place. And they can’t be stolen—they’re of no use
to any one else, you see. As for the Pumpkin’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>
spies,” he continued in a loud voice, that made Jack
and Molly shudder in case he were overheard. “I’m
not afraid of them—they never touch me....”</p>
<p>Molly gave a little scream, as something swept
past her head, brushing her forehead as it did so.</p>
<p>“It’s only a bat, Molly. Don’t be a silly,” said
Jack in a shaky voice.</p>
<p>“There’s heaps of them about—and owls,” said
Mr Papingay, continuing his rapid walk without a
moment’s pause. As if to confirm his words there
came a mournful “Hoo, hoo, hoo,” from the depths
of the wood. The children gripped each other’s arms
tightly, and hastened on.</p>
<p>Another minute, and a patch of light appeared
in the distance, and the children saw that it was the
end of the wood.</p>
<p>“There,” said the old man as they came out from
the trees at last, “you can find your way now, can’t
you? I must get back—Percy doesn’t like me to
stay out very late. That is the farmhouse, over
there; straight across this field, over the stile and the
wooden bridge across the river, and a few minutes’
walk up the hill, on the other side. You can see
where I mean, can’t you?” And he pointed the farm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>
out to the children. “You can mention my name
to them—Farmer Rose knows me well. Now if
you will take this,” he said, passing the plant-pot
containing his precious leaf into Molly’s keeping.
“And take care of it. I shall see you both again
shortly, I hope. Good-bye. Good-bye.”</p>
<p>“Thank you so much for bringing us this short
cut out of the wood,” said Molly. “It was awfully
kind of you.”</p>
<p>“Rather,” said Jack. Then, relieved at being
safely out of the wood, he added generously, “I
say—your lantern’s a marvel!”</p>
<p>The old man nodded and beamed delightedly.
Then, waving his hand, he stepped back into the
wood, his painted lantern swinging at his side, and
disappeared.</p>
<p>As soon as Mr Papingay had gone, Jack and
Molly stopped and looked around them. They were
in the open country once more, but a more hilly
country than that on the other side of the wood,
for they had passed right through the wood and
come out at the opposite end.</p>
<p>The wood led straight out into a field, across
which a narrow footpath straggled to a stile set in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
the middle of green hedges. On the other side of
the stile was a path, and a little white wooden bridge
across the river, and on the farther side of the river
were hills and the farm-house. The red roofs and
whitewashed walls of several cottages and other farm-houses
could be seen here and there.</p>
<p>Evening was closing in rapidly, and while they
had been in the wood dark clouds had drifted up
and were now gathering threateningly overhead.</p>
<p>“It’s too dark to do any more searching to-night,”
said Jack. “I suppose we’d better make straight for
the farm; and come back and search all round here
in the morning.”</p>
<p>“I suppose that would be best,” said Molly. “I
don’t feel at all satisfied about the Orange Wood, do
you, Jack? I think we must come back and search
that too—to-morrow. It doesn’t look a very big
wood.”</p>
<p>As the children turned to look back at the wood,
the first spots of rain began to come down, so they
hastened along the path toward the stile.</p>
<p>“I wonder if Mr Papingay really has searched
it thoroughly,” said Molly. “He seems such a funny
old man—I don’t know what to think.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
<p>“I do,” laughed Jack. “Mr Papingay’s much too
slap-dash to search it carefully. No, Moll, I’m afraid
we’ve got to do it to-morrow. It won’t be so bad in
daylight. My word! How the rain is coming down.
We’re in for a storm, I should think.”</p>
<p>They hurried on, climbed the stile, but when they
got on to the bridge Molly stopped for a moment.</p>
<p>“I say, Jack,” she called, and Jack stopped too.
“I’m going to throw this plant-pot in the river—it’s
too heavy to take all the way with us, and I don’t
like to put it down in the field in case Mr Papingay
comes along and finds it.” She pulled the leaf out
of the pot, folded it up, and pushed it into her satchel,
then threw the pot into the swiftly flowing river.</p>
<p>“What are you keeping the leaf for?” cried Jack.
He had to raise his voice to be heard through the
rising gale.</p>
<p>“Oh, I couldn’t throw that away,” said Molly.
“And besides, it may come in useful,” she added as
she ran along beside Jack up the hill. “You never
know.”</p>
<p>“Won’t old Timothy feel sold when he hears
what his Black Leaf really was!” chuckled Jack.</p>
<p>The rain was coming down heavily as they reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
the front door of the farm-house. They knocked, and
rang at the bell—but no one answered, and there was
no sound within the house. They knocked again,
then went round and knocked at the back door. But
still no one came, and they began to fear that there
was nobody at home. This proved to be the case.
The stables and outhouses were all locked up,
although they could hear a horse inside one of the
buildings, and there were some fowls in a hen-run
in the yard. Evidently the people were only out
for a short time, so Jack and Molly decided to
take shelter in the porch by the front door for a
while, until the storm was over, or Farmer Rose
returned.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear, what a dreadful night it’s going to
be!” said Molly. “Are you very wet, Jack?”</p>
<p>“Hardly a bit. It’s quite comfortable in this
porch,” Jack replied, and then she heard him chuckling.
“I was just thinking of old Mr Papingay,” he
explained, and then he broke off with a sudden
exclamation: “Oh, bother!”</p>
<p>“What is it?” Molly asked.</p>
<p>“I clean forgot to look for Mr Waffer’s face!
Why didn’t you remind me?” said Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p>
<p>“I forgot too,” answered Molly. “Never mind,
we’ll look to-morrow if we search the Orange Wood.”</p>
<p>“We mustn’t let Mr Papingay see us, though.
What fun! It’ll be like playing hide-and-seek,” said
Jack. “Goodness, how the wind <em>is</em> howling!”</p>
<p>They remained quiet for a time, huddled up in
the porch. The storm was growing still worse, and
it was very dark now. Presently the silence in
the porch was broken by Jack exclaiming again:
“Bother!”</p>
<p>“What is it now?” inquired Molly.</p>
<p>“Oh, I say, Moll—I’ve lost them—yes, I’ve lost
my box of matches—Old Nancy’s matches.”</p>
<p>A thorough search of Jack’s satchel and all his
pockets proved that this was unfortunately true.</p>
<p>“They must have fallen out—let me see now—I
had them just before we climbed the stile, I’m sure of
that, because I put my hand in my satchel to get one
of those sweet squares and I remember feeling the
box.” Jack tried hard to think back. “I believe I
must have dropped them somewhere just by the
bridge. Here, Molly, hold my satchel and things a
sec, will you, and I’ll just run down to the bridge and
fetch the box—yes, I’m sure now I heard something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
fall on the bridge. I won’t be a couple of minutes.
You wait here, Molly; I’ll be ever so quick. No, it
isn’t raining much.”</p>
<p>“Don’t go, Jack!” cried Molly. “Its so dark and
wet, oh, Jack, don’t go! I’ve still got my matches left—never
mind yours now.”</p>
<p>But Jack was hardly listening. “It’s only just
down the hill—won’t be a minute—you wait here—I
must get them, Molly—we may need them. It isn’t
so dark—I can see all right.”</p>
<p>“Wait, wait, Jack. Oh, I know—let me strike
one of my matches and see if it can find the other
box for us.” Molly was fumbling in her satchel
quickly. But Jack hadn’t heard her, and had started
off impetuously, calling back, “Shall be back in a
minute. Wait there, Moll.”</p>
<p>“I’m coming too,” called Molly, but the wind
howled past and Jack did not hear as he raced down
the hill.</p>
<p>Fastening up Jack’s satchel and slipping it
over her shoulders together with her own satchel,
and clasping her own box of matches firmly in her
hand, Molly set out after her brother, calling his name
as she ran. It was very silly of Jack to tear off like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
this, she thought, but she was only anxious to get
him back safely in the porch again out of the darkness
and the rain. She did not stop to light one of her
matches until she was about half-way down the hill.
Then she stopped and struck one. No ordinary
match would have kept alight a second in such a
storm, but Old Nancy’s matches, as she already knew,
were not ordinary. The light gathered all on one
side as usual, pointing straight down the hill.</p>
<p>Molly had just time to see the figure of Jack
running in front of her—he had reached the bridge—when
the match flame veered right round and pointed
up the hill.</p>
<p>Molly turned and looked, but there was nothing
to be seen there. What did it mean? She hastened
on down the hill, and as her match went out, she lit
another one.</p>
<p>This time the light from the match showed her
that Jack was on the bridge and had crossed over to
the footpath, and was bending down to pick something
up. So he had found his matches! But even
as she saw Jack, her eye caught sight of something
coming from the direction of the Orange Wood along
the river bank, toward the bridge. Then the flame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
from the match veered round and pointed up the hill.
But not before Molly had seen what it was that was
creeping toward Jack on the other side of the river.</p>
<p>It was the Grey Pumpkin. And Jack had not
seen him.</p>
<p>And the match flame was pointing the way of
escape, up the hill to safety! Just as the flame had
pointed out the way of escape in the underground
cellar.</p>
<p>But there was no thought of her own safety while
Jack was in such danger. Molly dashed forward,
crying out: “Jack! Run! Quick! Come back!
Look behind you!” But the wind roared around her
as if mocking her, and Jack never heard.</p>
<p>As she ran she lit another match, and by its light
saw that Jack was standing upright and had turned—and
seen the Pumpkin close behind him. He went
to run, but slipped and fell to his knees, and as he
was scrambling up again the Pumpkin reached him.
Jack seemed to collapse all in a heap on the ground,
and then, there was no Jack—but in his place another
great Grey Pumpkin. Molly pulled up and stood
motionless, gazing with horrified eyes. Then her
match went out. She lit another mechanically, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
as she did so she heard a terrific crash a few yards
ahead, and saw that the storm had broken down
the wooden bridge; it collapsed into the river and
was caught up by the rapidly rushing current and
swirled away. If this hadn’t happened, Molly would
have been over the bridge in another second (forgetting
in her despair that she could do no good and
would only get caught herself). But as it was, she
was brought to an abrupt standstill at the water’s
edge, while on the other side of the river two Grey
Pumpkins rolled slowly away along the path toward
a group of tall dark trees....</p>
<p>And so it was that the farmer and his kindly wife,
returning home about half an hour later, found a little
girl sitting in the porch by their front door, crying as
if her heart would break.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br />
<span class="stl">Molly Accepts a Present</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">The</span> farmer’s wife proved a friend indeed to
Molly. She gathered the little girl up in
her arms and carried her indoors, made her
put on some fresh clothes while she dried her wet
things before a blazing fire, and not until Molly had
emptied a big bowl of hot bread and milk would she
let her say a word of thanks or explanation.</p>
<p>Then, when the farmer and Mrs Rose and Molly
(wrapped in a warm cloak belonging to the farmer’s
wife) sat round the fire, Molly told them her story,
weeping afresh at the memory of Jack’s misfortune.</p>
<p>“There, there, my dear,” comforted Mrs Rose,
her own eyes full of tears. “It’s no use crying, you
know. What you have got to do is to determine to
find the Black Leaf, and then, like as not, you’ll get
your brother back again.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I <em>am</em> determined to find it,” cried Molly.
“I was determined before—but I will—I <em>will</em> find
it—whatever happens.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>
<p>“You must try to get a good rest to-night, and
then you can start off fresh in the morning—and you
mustn’t cry any more or you’ll make yourself ill—and
then you won’t be able to do anything,” said
Mrs Rose.</p>
<p>Molly quite saw the wisdom of Mrs Rose’s words
and tried her best to stop crying. But she kept
thinking about Jack, and wondering what they were
doing to him, and why the Pumpkin had changed
him into a likeness of himself. Supposing she had to
return home to Mother without Jack. She couldn’t.
She wouldn’t, she vowed to herself. She would stay
in this country and search and search until the
Black Leaf <em>was</em> found, even if she had to wait
for years ... and here her tears began to flow
again.</p>
<p>To distract her, the farmer began talking about
the country around and the most likely places to
search. He had searched all his own land, he said,
directly he heard the Pumpkin was back, and he
had helped to prepare some of the beacons on the
hills around this district. And he asked Molly if she
knew on which hills the beacons were set.</p>
<p>Molly dried her eyes, got her map out, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
showed him how the beacon hills were marked, and
soon she and the farmer and Mrs Rose were poring
over the map, planning out the best routes to take,
and discussing the most likely places for search.
The farmer showed her all the places where the Leaf
was <em>not</em> growing, places he had personally searched;
and at Molly’s request he marked these places on the
map with a lead pencil. Molly decided to herself
that she would leave these marked places until the
very last, until she had searched all the more likely
parts round about. She felt she could not leave
them out altogether, although she trusted the farmer
absolutely; she had promised to search each part
herself.</p>
<p>When she mentioned Mr Papingay’s name the
farmer and his wife smiled, and although they
thought he would certainly have searched the Orange
Wood as he said he had, yet he was not sure to
have done it thoroughly, and they agreed with
Molly that it would be as well to go over the ground
again if possible. The fact that the Pumpkin was
lurking about there made all three of them think
that probably the Leaf was growing somewhere near.
Of course, this might not be so; it might be only the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
Pumpkin’s object to prevent Jack and Molly going
any further with the search.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to be very cautious, missie, if you
go back to the wood,” said Farmer Rose. “It
wouldn’t do for you to get caught too.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be very careful—but it won’t do for me to
be afraid, or p’r’aps I’ll never get Jack back again,”
said Molly. “I mustn’t be afraid of anything
now.”</p>
<p>“That’s the spirit,” said the farmer, slapping
his knee. “And if there’s anything we can do to
help you—you’ve only got to name it—we shall be
proud.”</p>
<p>When the farmer’s wife tucked her up in bed,
about twenty minutes later, Molly threw her arms
round her neck.</p>
<p>“I don’t know why you are so good to me,” she
said. “Thank you so much. I’ve given you a lot
of trouble, I’m afraid.”</p>
<p>“Not the least bit in the world,” replied the
farmer’s wife. “Try to get to sleep, my dear....
P’r’aps to-morrow—who knows what may happen
to-morrow!”</p>
<p>Molly was so exhausted that she slept soundly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>
and dreamlessly, in spite of the fact that the wind
rattled furiously at her window and roared down
the chimney. In the morning she woke with a
dreadful, leaden feeling at her heart, but she determined
not to brood over yesterday, but to get to
work at once.</p>
<p>After breakfast she collected up all the things
from Jack’s satchel and put them with her belongings
into her own satchel. The farmer’s wife insisted
on giving her a big packet of food for
luncheon, and told her to come back and sleep at
the farm again that night if she ended her day’s
search anywhere near.</p>
<p>Molly thanked her gratefully, then started out
alone. The rain had ceased, and the wind was
much less violent, but it was a grey day with a
sky full of scurrying clouds.</p>
<p>And now began a long, wearying time for Molly.
Alone, of course, the task of searching was longer
and more difficult, though the enthusiasm with
which she went to work kept her from realizing this
to the full. She went on her way searching eagerly
and thoroughly that part of the valley through
which the river ran, which came within her square<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>
of map; she crossed the water by another bridge
about a mile away from the place of last night’s
accident, and searched the opposite bank, gradually
working her way back to the spot where the
Pumpkin had appeared.</p>
<p>Across the water she could see the farm-house,
half-way up the hilly road on the other side.
Behind her was the stile which she and Jack
had clambered over yesterday. Was it only yesterday?—it
seemed more like a week ago to Molly.
She climbed over the stile again and crossed
the field, searching as she went, to the Orange
Wood.</p>
<p>Very cautiously she entered the wood, and
started her search, ears and eyes constantly on the
alert, and hands and feet ready to spring and
climb up a tree at any moment, if the need arose.
But the need did not arise, and presently Molly
found she was back within sight of Mr Papingay’s
house. She went extra carefully now, so as not
to attract the old man’s attention, and made a tour
of the wood near his house, working in a wide
circle, so as not to cross the space before his front
door. Once she heard his voice calling out to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
know what Percy was barking at, but she did not
see him.</p>
<p>And though at length she searched the whole
of the Orange Wood, she did not find the Black
Leaf; nor did she see any sign of the Pumpkin or
his spies.</p>
<p>So she left the wood behind her, and came back
over the river, and made her way to the farm-house
again, where she had tea, and told them all about
her day’s search. But she would not stay the night
there, as there was still a long light evening to
work through, and she hoped to get some way on
the road to Lake Desolate before the night fell.</p>
<p>“You’ll pass several houses and cottages on the
road,” said Mrs Rose, and proceeded to give Molly
the names of several friends of hers, whom she could
trust. “But be sure to come back here, if you
want to.”</p>
<p>Mrs Rose stood at the gate waving her handkerchief
to Molly, until the little girl turned round a
bend in the road and was lost to sight. Then she
dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. “Bless the
child,” she said, as she hurried indoors. “She deserves
to win.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
<p>From the top of one of the hills close by, Molly
found she could get a splendid view of the surrounding
country. The clouds had disappeared by
now, and it promised to be a beautiful evening and
a moonlight night. The river sparkled beneath,
and the Orange Wood glowed in the evening sun,
while far away, in the distance, she could see the
white towers of the City. Looking down at the
Orange Wood she suddenly remembered that she
had forgotten to look for Mr Waffer’s face, as she
passed Mr Papingay’s house. What a pity! Jack
would have liked to know, when—when she met
him again. But she had had so many things to
think about in the wood that it is no wonder she
forgot about Mr Waffer.</p>
<p>Descending the hill, Molly started on the road
to Lake Desolate. It was pretty and green at first
with cottages dotted about in small clusters, and
presently she passed through a tiny village, where
she stopped to inquire and search. But although
every one seemed kind, and eager to help, there was
nothing to be heard or seen of the Black Leaf.</p>
<p>About half a mile outside the village, Molly
came to a few more houses and a small shop.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
At the door of the shop stood an old gentleman
wearing a black skull-cap and a long, shabby coat.
When he saw Molly approaching he came out to
meet her and, seizing her hand, shook it warmly,
saying that he had heard of her goodness in helping
with the search and thanked her gratefully.</p>
<p>“I have been keeping a watch on the road for
the last few days, missie, hoping to catch a glimpse
of you as you passed,” he said. “I heard you were
coming this way.”</p>
<p>Molly was pleased at his impulsive friendliness,
especially as she was feeling very lonely just now.
She stopped chatting for a few minutes, and the old
gentleman proudly showed her his shop. He was a
watchmaker, and the shop was full of watches and
clocks of all kinds and sizes. Besides these, he had
a small collection of jewellery.</p>
<p>“I expect you wonder at a watchmaker being
right out here,” he said, noting Molly’s surprised
expression at the contents of his shop. “Many
people wonder at first. But I supply the clocks and
watches for all the neighbouring towns and villages
and even for the City. I send to the City twice a
week. I live out here simply because my father and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
grandfather and great-grandfather have always lived
in this place—and because my health won’t permit
me to live in crowded towns.... Now, miss, if you
will be so good I want you to accept a little present
from me, as a token of appreciation of the work you
are doing.”</p>
<p>He opened a little box and drew out a dainty,
silver bracelet, that jingled as he handled it—just the
very kind of bracelet that Molly had longed for on
her birthday.</p>
<p>Molly’s face lit up, but she hesitated. Ought she
to accept this present from a stranger—especially as
she had made up her mind not to trust anybody now,
unless she was perfectly sure they were all right.
The old watchmaker seemed harmless enough, and
he was already looking disappointed at her hesitation.
Molly felt it would be unkind to refuse the bracelet,
and difficult also. It was not as if he had offered
her food or drink, that might be poisoned; nor had
he made any effort to entice her into his shop; she
had merely stepped inside on the mat and the door
had been left wide open. Surely there could be no
harm in accepting the bracelet, Molly argued to herself.
It was so pretty, and she <em>would</em> like to have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
it, and anyway, if she felt doubtful afterward she
could always get rid of it somehow, when the old
gentleman could not see her and be hurt.</p>
<p>“I beg you will accept this bracelet,” said the
watchmaker. “I have been keeping it back specially
for you.”</p>
<p>So Molly accepted the bracelet, and the old
gentleman ‘had the honour,’ as he put it, of seeing
her slip it over her right hand, where it gleamed and
jingled, and nearly slipped off when she put her arm
down straight—just as she had longed for it to do.
Molly thanked the old watchmaker and shook hands
with him again, as she bid him good-bye.</p>
<p>He stood at his door bowing as Molly went on
her way, but no sooner was she out of sight than he
returned to his shop and, closing the door, sat down
on a stool behind the counter, and began to shake
with silent laughter; he continued to laugh, hugging
himself while he did so, and rocking backward and
forward, and bending himself nearly double, and all
this quite noiselessly—the only sounds in the shop
being the rapid tick, tick, tick, and the steady tick-tock,
of the watches and clocks around him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br />
<span class="stl">A Warning</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Meanwhile</span>, after walking along for a
short distance, Molly thought it would
be wise to look up the names of Mrs
Rose’s friends, as the daylight was beginning to fade
and already the moon was mounting the sky; she
had scribbled the names and addresses down on a
slip of paper. She noted, with a slight thrill of
pleasure, the jingle of the silver bracelet as she took
the paper out of her pocket. Poor Molly, she could
not feel very happy about the bracelet, of course,
as the weight of Jack’s misfortune still crushed her
down; but she was certainly pleased to possess such
a bracelet. Having discovered that one of Mrs
Rose’s friends lived about a quarter of a mile farther
on, she determined to search the road until she came
to this house, and then ask if Mrs Jennet, for that
was the friend’s name, would kindly put her up for
the night.</p>
<p>The road now began to grow wilder and more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
rugged, while here and there, beside the way, were
huge rocks and piles of stones. She passed an
occasional tree, but these had few leaves on their
branches, and were much twisted and bent as though
lashed by many storms.</p>
<p>Molly continued to search, but, instead of hurrying
along as she had meant to, she found herself
moving slower, and gradually slower still, and
became aware that she was suddenly very tired.
She dragged on for a short distance.</p>
<p>“I can’t do any more searching to-night,” she
thought to herself. “I’m too tired. I’ll just make
straight for the house—only I wish it wasn’t such a
long way off. I’ll never get there.”</p>
<p>Molly found great difficulty in keeping her eyes
open now; and if she hadn’t been so thoroughly
exhausted and tired she might have been suspicious
of this overwhelming wave of sleep that had seized
her. She was too tired to think or reason, too tired
to be suspicious. She only knew that her feet felt as
if they were made of lead, and the only thing she
wanted to do was to lie down and go to sleep at once.</p>
<p>“Can’t reach the house,” she murmured, drowsily.
“Must go to sleep.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
<p>She stumbled across the road, and threw herself
down on the grass by the wayside. Oh, how delicious
it was, just to lie down and go to sleep! But as her
head was sinking back a last wave of consciousness
flashed through Molly’s mind of the foolishness of
the thing that she was doing ... going to sleep by
the roadside ... and if the Pumpkin came along
... she would never be able to save Jack now. At
this thought—she rallied for a moment and pulled
herself up into a kneeling position. She remained
thus for a moment or two, with her head drooping
forward. Then she struggled to fight off the wave
of sleep that was coming over her again, and managed
to crawl a few paces further on.</p>
<p>Although Molly did not know it at the time, this
was one of the most critical moments in her adventure.
If she had given in and gone comfortably to sleep
by the roadside, this story would have had a very
different ending. But Molly did not give in, her
desire to find the Black Leaf and save her brother
was so strong, that in spite of the great odds against
her she was able to make one last effort to reach a
place of safety. Though there was still no sign of
Mrs Jennet’s house, there was fortunately a tree close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>
by. And it was toward this tree that Molly slowly
groped her way. She never knew how long it took
her to reach that tree, although it was standing only
a few feet away from her. But with repeated efforts
she at length reached it, and with a great struggle
pulled herself up into a standing position, leaning
against the trunk. For some time she stood leaning
against the tree; she could not remember afterward
whether she went to sleep for a while or not—she
thought she must have gone to sleep (“Like a horse,
standing up,” she told herself). But she had barely
lost consciousness when again her desire urged her
to make another effort.</p>
<p>This was the last effort, and the hardest of all.
Molly scarcely knew how she managed it, but manage
she did, to pull herself up into the tree, and curl up
among the lower branches. Then, immediately, she
was asleep.</p>
<p>All through the moonlit night she slept and did
not move. And if anyone passed on the road beneath
the tree that night—Molly never knew. And nobody
guessed there was a little girl lying asleep in the
gnarled old tree by the side of the road that led to
Lake Desolate. For little girls who are as tired as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
Molly must have been have not usually the strength,
nor the will, to climb trees.</p>
<p>At daybreak Molly stirred and threw out her
right arm, so that it hung down a little, over the edge
of one of the branches: and the bracelet, the jingly,
silver bracelet, slipped down over her wrist, and as
she moved again, it slid over her hand and fell on to
the ground at the foot of the tree.</p>
<p>After this Molly seemed more restless, and did
not sleep so soundly, though many hours went by,
and it was nearly noon before she was aroused at
length by some one exclaiming loudly and persistently
from beneath the tree, and something cold and hard
grabbing at her arms and legs.</p>
<p>Molly sat up, rubbing her eyes, and then became
aware that a chubby, startled-looking little woman in
a black and white check dress and a black bonnet
was calling up to her while she made frantic efforts
to catch hold of Molly with the crooked handle of
her umbrella.</p>
<p>“Oh, thank goodness, you <em>’ave</em> woke up, which
I thought you never was going to!” cried the plump
little woman, dabbing her face with her handkerchief.
“Such a fright as you give me, lying quite still there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>
and me a-hollering at you for a hour or more, though
I’d never a-seen you if it hadn’t been for your ’and
and arm ’anging down out of the tree....”</p>
<p>“Who are you?” asked Molly drowsily. “I’m
glad you did wake me up.”</p>
<p>“Maria Jennet is my name,” was the answer.
“I done my best to wake you up, but my! you do
want a bit of waking. Made me quite ’ot, you ’ave.”</p>
<p>“Oh, are you Mrs Jennet?” said Molly. “Mrs
Rose’s friend?”</p>
<p>“I am,” said Mrs Jennet emphatically.</p>
<p>“Why, I was on my way to your house last
night, when—when ... Oh!” Molly gave a
scream.</p>
<p>“Oh!” screamed Mrs Jennet. “What is it now?
You do give a body the jumps, you do!”</p>
<p>But Molly did not answer. She was gazing with
horrified eyes at her right arm. On the wrist was
a long grey stain!</p>
<p>How had it come there? What did it mean?
Molly rubbed her arm vigorously with her pocket-handkerchief—but
she could not remove the stain.
She had seen a grey stain like this before; but
where?... And then she remembered. It was on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>
Old Nancy’s finger, the evening she slept through
the sunset hour. Molly then realized what had
happened.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus06"></a>
<img src="images/illus06.jpg" width="407" height="554" alt="" />
<p class="caption">“THANK GOODNESS YOU <em>’AVE</em> WOKE UP!”</p>
</div>
<p>“Of course, he was another of them. What a
stupid girl I was to trust him,” she exclaimed.
“But where has my bracelet gone! Wait a minute
please,” she continued, in reply to Mrs Jennet’s
excited questioning. “I’ll tell you all about it in
a minute.” She climbed down from the tree and
searched about in the grass beneath. “Ah, here it
is!” she cried, and snatched up her bracelet, only to
drop it again instantly, as if it were red-hot coals.
For on the inner side of the bracelet she saw the
remains of a dull grey powder still clinging to it.
“So that’s how he did it!” Molly nodded to herself.
“That explains things.”</p>
<p>She understood now that the watchmaker was
another spy employed by the Pumpkin, and the
bracelet which she had accepted from him had contained
this magic powder which had rubbed off on
to her arm, and sent her to sleep. The old watchmaker
was evidently relying on the powder acting
quickly, and Molly, overwhelmed by sleep, being
compelled to rest by the side of the road—or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
somewhere where the Pumpkin could easily catch
her. Luckily for Molly, she had had enough will
power to fight her way to a place of safety; and
luckily, also, the bracelet had slipped off and so
gradually she had regained consciousness again.
Molly had had a very narrow escape, and she felt
decidedly bewildered as to the best way of winning
through the difficulties around her. Of one thing
she felt certain, she must be very distrustful of
everything and everybody—except, of course, where
people were recommended to her by some one she
could trust. So far, all the links in her chain of
friends had proved good and true; Glan—Old
Nancy—Aunt Janet—The Goblin—Miss Marigold—Mr
Papingay—Mrs Rose—and now, Mrs Jennet.
She could trust Mrs Jennet, surely.</p>
<p>Mrs Jennet was bubbling over with curiosity about
the stain and the bracelet, and Molly answering some
of her numerous questions, asked her to lend her
the umbrella for a minute. Mrs Jennet watched
breathlessly while Molly dug a little hole with the
point, then picked up the bracelet on the tip of the
umbrella and dropped it in the hole and piled earth
and stones on it.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
<p>“It might only bring trouble to some one else if
I leave it here,” she said.</p>
<p>Then she accepted Mrs Jennet’s kind and vigorous
invitation to go home with her and ‘have a bite of
something’ before proceeding on her way. As they
walked along Molly told her companion a little of
what had already taken place, and what had happened
to Jack. At which Mrs Jennet protested loudly and
even wept a little; then stood still in the middle of
the roadway while she told Molly all the horrible
things she would like to do to the Pumpkin if she
caught him.</p>
<p>Mrs Jennet’s house was only a short distance
away, and stood with several other houses by the
side of the main road—the last dwellings these before
you reached Lake Desolate, which was about two
miles further on, she told Molly. Molly learned that
the men from these houses worked in the mines near
by. Mrs Jennet’s husband worked there and would
not be home till evening.</p>
<p>While Mrs Jennet was bustling about, laying the
table, and frying eggs and bacon, Molly got out
her map and looked to see where the mines were.
They were not marked on her map at all, and Mrs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
Jennet explained, when Molly showed her the map,
that the mines were just over the border of Molly’s
square; at which Molly was rather relieved, as it
had struck her that she might have to go down the
mines perhaps to search for the Black Leaf. But
on second thoughts she remembered—of course, the
Black Leaf could only grow above ground. This
incident, however, called Molly’s attention to the
fact that she was nearing another border-line of her
square. It stretched away to the left of the road
she was soon to go along; so she would not have
much country to search on that side. But there
was still a large piece of country around Lake
Desolate.</p>
<p>“Are there no more houses beyond this group?”
Molly asked Mrs Jennet, as they sat down to their
meal.</p>
<p>“No. Yes,” said Mrs Jennet. “That is, not
until you’ve passed Lake Desolate. Then there are
one or two sheep-farms and cottages on the ’ills.
Very lonely they must be, too. There’s very few go
to Lake Desolate now—the road’s so bad—and so
lonely. And what’s the good of going there, there’s
nothing to see but the Lake and the ’ills.... ’Ave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
some more bread, duckie.... And there’s all them
wild birds screeching over the Lake. Ugh! Fair
gives me the creeps, it does. But there—I forgot you
was going there. Fancy, a bit of a girl like you!
Well, well! P’r’aps you ain’t afraid of being alone
though? Eh?”</p>
<p>Molly said she didn’t think she was.</p>
<p>“I’m fond of my own company when I’m with
other people,” remarked Mrs Jennet. “You know
what I mean—I feel a little bit lost by myself.”</p>
<p>Everything in Mrs Jennet’s room seemed like
herself—plain and plump and loud, but nevertheless
good-natured. The chubby-looking horse-hair sofa
with the round large-patterned cushions reminded
Molly strangely of its owner; and so did the round-backed
chairs with their thick arms; even the carpet
was just like Mrs Jennet would have looked if she
had been a carpet. Molly began to wonder what
Mr Jennet was like.</p>
<p>“I’ve got a photo of ’im—up there on the mantelshelf—I’ll
show you,” said Mrs Jennet in reply to a
question from Molly.</p>
<p>But even as Mrs Jennet handed the photo down,
Molly felt she knew what he would be like. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>
she was right. He was exactly like Mrs Jennet
would have been if she had been a man.</p>
<p>“He’s a dear old lad,” said Mrs Jennet, eyeing
the photo affectionately. “I wish you could have
waited to see ’im—but if you do find the old Black
Leaf ’e’ll get a ’oliday I expect—every one will.
My! Won’t there be celebrations! And we’ll all
come down to the City and see you! ’Ave some
more milk, duckie?”</p>
<p>Mrs Jennet chattered gaily on, asking and answering
numberless questions. Molly asked her if she
could tell her of any one she could trust, who lived
in the little cottages or farms beyond Lake Desolate.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes. There’s a very nice lady I know lives
in one of them—in a little cottage on the side of the
Giant’s ’Ead—that’s the name of the ’ill—it’s shaped
on top like a huge ’ead. She’s got a sweet, pretty
cottage—stays there for ’er ’ealth. She’s away
sometimes staying with ’er sister in the City, but
I should think she’d be ’ome this time of year. ’Er
name’s Lydia North—Miss Lydia we always call ’er.
’Ere, I’ve got a photo of ’er in my album. I’ll show
you. She very kindly give me one when she knew I
collected photos, bless ’er ’eart!” said Mrs Jennet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
<p>The photo was of a refined, sweet-faced lady.
Molly studied it intently so that she would know
Miss Lydia when she saw her.</p>
<p>“Thank you very much,” said Molly. “This will
be a great help to me. I know one person I can
trust anyway.”</p>
<p>But Molly was not to get away as easily as that.
Once Mrs Jennet had got her beloved album open
she insisted on showing Molly all the photos of her
relatives and friends, including Mrs Rose and Farmer
Rose.</p>
<p>“I wish you had a photo of yourself about you,”
said Mrs Jennet. “I’d like you in the album.”</p>
<p>Molly was sorry she couldn’t oblige her hostess,
but admired the collection of photographs with such
enthusiasm that Mrs Jennet was enraptured. At
length Molly managed to tear herself away, and
bidding good-bye to Mrs Jennet, and thanking her
warmly for all her kindness, Molly started out once
more.</p>
<p>It was now early afternoon. Searching carefully
along the road and on either side of it she proceeded
slowly. As she went on, the country grew
wilder and lonelier. The hills rose up on every side,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
bare, gaunt hills on which nothing seemed to grow,
and at the foot of the hills great rocks and stones
were strewn. Molly soon left all signs of the miners’
houses behind her, and as she looked back and
could see nothing but the wild scenery all around
her—no smoke from a chimney, no sign of human
beings at all—she began to feel very small and lost
and lonely. But she was not afraid. She realized,
after thinking things over, that in the ordinary
way the Pumpkin’s spies could not touch her or
make her do things by force; it had to be some
carelessness or weakness in herself which enabled
them to obtain a power over her. She would be
very careful in future, and would not trust any
one but those people who she <em>knew</em> were her
friends. She would be on her guard all the
time.</p>
<p>She searched carefully for about an hour, in
every likely place along the way, keeping her eyes
and ears constantly on the alert. And presently
the latter informed her of the galloping of horse’s
hoofs in the distance. Looking back along the
road she saw a cloud of dust, and by and by a big
black horse, on which was seated a man in a slouch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
hat and flying cape, became visible. Molly glanced
round for a place of escape, if necessary, or a place
to hide; but there was no place to hide in this
barren spot, and no trees near by. So she walked
steadily on. So long as it wasn’t the Pumpkin,
the man on the horse could not touch her against
her will—that is, if he was an enemy. Poor Molly
expected every stranger to be an enemy now, of
course. Maybe the horse and rider had no business
with her at all. Anyway, they came dashing
along at full speed, thundering on the road behind
her.</p>
<p>Molly drew to the side of the road to let them
pass. But they did not pass. She heard, with
a sinking heart, the horse gradually slacken its
pace till it came alongside her. The man quickly
dismounted, made Molly a sweeping bow, and
handed her a sealed envelope. Then, without a
word, he sprang into the saddle and, turning his
horse’s head, galloped back along the road by which
he had come, leaving Molly gazing in surprise at the
envelope in her hand.</p>
<p>It was all over in a minute. The man and the
horse had come and gone. Molly turned the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
envelope over and over. There was no address on
it to say who it was for or where it had come from.
Only the word ‘Immediate’ was printed in the top
corner. What ought she to do, she wondered.
Should she open it? Was it meant for her? Was
it from a friend—or was it another trick of the
Pumpkin’s? She hesitated, standing still in the
middle of the lonely road. Supposing it was a
message—something about Jack—something really
true. Supposing she didn’t open the envelope—what
was she to do with it?</p>
<p>This decided the matter; as she couldn’t think
what to do with it if she didn’t open it, she
opened it, very cautiously. And this was the letter
inside it:</p>
<div class="blockquo1">
<p><span class="smcap">Dear Child</span>,</p>
<p class="ind">I know all that has happened. This
is to tell you that I have overheard that the
Pumpkin has sent out many spies to stop you.
One of them is a little old man; a watchmaker he
pretends to be. Do not trust him.</p>
<p>Another (and this one is the most dangerous
of all) is a certain ‘blind’ woman who has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
sent out to meet you on the shores of Lake Desolate.
As you value your quest, as you value your
poor brother’s life, do not trust this ‘blind’ woman.
Have nothing to do with her—do not believe a
word she says—but go straight on past the Lake
to the Brown Hills beyond. Otherwise, all is at an
end for us.</p>
<p class="sign">
<span class="sp1">With affectionate remembrance from</span><br />
<span class="smcap">Old Nancy</span><br />
</p>
</div>
<p>Molly read the letter through several times, very
carefully. Then she folded it up and put it in her
satchel.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br />
<span class="stl">Molly Comes to Lake Desolate</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">During</span> the next two hours, while Molly
searched the remainder of the road, and
the lonely country that lay between the
road and the hills on either side, she kept thinking of
the letter. And it worried her. She could not make
up her mind whether the letter was genuine or not.
At first she thought it really was from Old Nancy,
and then, because she had resolved to trust no one,
she began to suspect that the man on the horse was
another of the Pumpkin’s spies and that the letter
was faked.</p>
<p>“One part was true,” Molly argued to herself.
“About the watchmaker ... but then, the spies
would know by now that I have found out about the
watchmaker, and <em>they</em> would not mind telling me
news I already know if they thought it would make
the letter seem more genuine. But why should they
warn me about this ‘blind’ woman—unless....
Oh, I don’t know. I wonder if it really <em>is</em> from Old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>
Nancy, after all! I wish I had some means of finding
out.” And then, after another ten minutes’ search:
“I believe it really is from Old Nancy—I’m getting
too distrustful,” she said. “Anyway, I’ll wait until I
reach Lake Desolate—and then decide.”</p>
<p>Molly climbed to the top of one of the hills, and
from there caught her first glimpse of the Lake. It
was not far away now; but it was actually no more
than a glimpse of the water that she got, because of
the hills that surrounded it. She descended the hill,
searching all the time—for it would not do to pass
by any likely spot in her anxiety to reach some other
spot, even if the latter did sound a more probable
place for the Black Leaf to be growing in.</p>
<p>Although the water had not looked far away, yet it
seemed a long time to Molly before she reached
Lake Desolate. Climbing round the side of one of
the hills, she at length saw the Lake immediately
below her.</p>
<p>It was a great stretch of water, silent, dark, and
mysterious, around which the hills stood like sentinels.
Across the surface of the water strange birds hovered,
flapping their wings and uttering weird ‘screechings,’
as Mrs Jennet had said. Every now and again they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
would swoop down on the water, or dart across to
some trees and rocks on the opposite shore. Molly
glanced anxiously around the shores of the Lake, but
could not see anything moving, except the birds.</p>
<p>Gradually she made her way down the hillside
and stood for a while gazing into the dark, still water.
It was well named Lake Desolate, thought Molly, for
never had she seen such a deserted, lonely place. As
she looked across to the hills beyond, a slight sound
made her turn her head. Her heart began to beat
rapidly, for coming slowly along the shore of the
Lake toward her was a woman dressed in a long,
grey cloak. She had a stick in her hand, which she
tapped on the ground in front of her, as blind people
do.</p>
<p>Molly stood perfectly motionless, so that the blind
woman should not hear her move and know that
any one was near. The woman came on hesitatingly,
tap, tap, tapping with her stick. Molly watched her.
The woman passed within a short distance of where
Molly was standing—stopped; listened; then moved
on.</p>
<p>At that moment one of Molly’s feet slipped a little,
and the stones on which she was standing moved,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>
and several trickled down and fell with a <em>plomp</em> into
the water. The woman stopped immediately; while
Molly bit her lip at her own carelessness.</p>
<p>“Is any one there?” asked the woman, turning,
and facing in the direction whence the sound had
come.</p>
<p>Molly did not answer, but looked straight at the
woman. And as she looked, a puzzled expression
came over Molly’s face. Where had she seen the
blind woman’s face before? She <em>had</em> seen it; of
this she felt certain, and yet— Then suddenly Molly
knew. It was the same face that she had seen in
Mrs Jennet’s photo album. It was the face of Miss
Lydia!</p>
<p>This discovery gave Molly a shock, and sent all
her thoughts and plans tumbling helter-skelter over
each other. What was she to do now?</p>
<p>Meanwhile, as no reply had been given to her
question, the blind woman sighed, and passed on.
Molly did not know what to do, or whom to believe.
She had never been wrong before in trusting one of
her friend’s friends; and this certainly looked like
the Miss Lydia of whom Mrs Jennet had spoken.
But <em>had</em> Old Nancy written that letter? If so, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>
would, of course, trust her before any one, and obey
her instructions.</p>
<p>“I can’t find out who wrote the letter, at least,
not yet,” thought Molly. “But I can find out if
she really is Miss Lydia.”</p>
<p>Her mind made up, she stepped forward a few
paces, and called in a clear voice:</p>
<p>“There <em>is</em> some one here. Can I help you?”</p>
<p>The blind woman turned eagerly, and groped her
way back toward the voice.</p>
<p>“Oh, I am so glad to hear some one speak again—but
who are you? Are you a friend?” asked the
woman anxiously. “I am so helpless, you know,
and—<span class="nobreak">and——”</span></p>
<p>“I am willing to be your friend, if— But who
are you?” asked Molly. “What is your name?”</p>
<p>“My name is Lydia North,” replied the woman.
“And I live in a little cottage—up there—somewhere”—she
waved her arm vaguely. “On the side
of the Giant’s Head.... Oh, tell me who you are,
please!”</p>
<p>“I am a little girl,” answered Molly. “And if
you are truly Miss Lydia—I am your friend. Tell
me what I can do for you.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p>
<p>“Will you lead me back to my home again?
I cannot find my way from here, there seem to be
hills all round that shut me in. I cannot find the
way out and I am afraid of walking into the water;
I nearly fell in just now.”</p>
<p>“How did you get here, Miss Lydia?” asked
Molly. “I was hoping to meet you at your cottage—Mrs
Jennet told me about you—told me to call
and see you.... But I didn’t know that you were—blind.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t—until the day before yesterday—I think
it was the day before yesterday; it seems a long time
ago. I am not used to being blind yet, and feel
so helpless. I’m so glad you are a friend of good
Mrs Jennet’s—then I can trust you,” said Miss
Lydia.</p>
<p>This was something new for Molly to have
people doubtful whether she could be trusted; it
was generally the other way about. But when she
had heard Miss Lydia’s story she quite understood.
It seemed that Miss Lydia had been away from
home for a fortnight, staying with her sister in the
City, and had returned home the day before
yesterday.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
<p>“When I reached my cottage gate,” she continued,
“I heard something coming behind me—a
sort of soft, rolling sound. Then something touched
me—and I could not see any more. I found my
way into the cottage somehow—I live alone. I
kept thinking my sight would come back. But it
did not come back. And this morning—I knew it
was morning by the cocks crowing and the clock
striking—I started out, determined to find my way
down to the High Road which runs below the hill,
so that I might get help. But I lost my way.
Presently I heard some one walking past me, and
they offered to set me right for the High Road,
but they led me here, and then they laughed and
went away....”</p>
<p>“I suppose you knew who it was that touched
you and made you blind?” said Molly.</p>
<p>“I didn’t see any one,” answered Miss Lydia.
“But I can guess.”</p>
<p>Poor Miss Lydia, another of the Pumpkin’s
victims! Molly felt very sorry for her helplessness
in this deserted place. Molly was fairly certain now
that the letter she had received was not from Old
Nancy. But why had the spies wished to prevent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>
her from helping Miss Lydia? She would find out.
If she had not felt sure that this was indeed Miss
Lydia, she would have obeyed the letter and gone
straight on to the Brown Hills.</p>
<p>“I will lead you home, Miss Lydia,” she said,
“if you will trust me. Which is the nearest way?”</p>
<p>“Where are we now?” asked Miss Lydia.</p>
<p>“This is Lake Desolate,” Molly informed her.</p>
<p>“There are several lakes near here,” said Miss
Lydia. “But I thought we were somewhere near
Lake Desolate, because of the birds.”</p>
<p>So she told Molly to look for a big hill shaped
like a head, which was somewhere on the west side
of the lake. When Molly saw it, towering up behind
the other hills, she took Miss Lydia by the hand and
led her away from Lake Desolate.</p>
<p>They passed out of the ring of hills around Lake
Desolate, and mounted a hilly path that led toward
the Giant’s Head. The country was very beautiful
on this side of the Lake, but Molly had no eyes for
the beauty of the scene at present. She was trying
to puzzle out the meaning of her letter, and the
meaning of Miss Lydia’s story. Had the Pumpkin
any special purpose in making Miss Lydia blind—or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
was it just one of his wicked whims? And why had
his spies led Miss Lydia to this Lake, and then tried
to prevent Molly from helping her? Surely, if the
spies had wished to prevent Molly from helping the
blind lady it would have been an easy matter for
them to keep Miss Lydia out of the way ... to have
led her to another lake. On the other hand, if they
did want her to help Miss Lydia, why had they sent
that letter; the chances were that Molly would obey
the instructions in the letter. Yes, she certainly
might have obeyed them—if she hadn’t seen Miss
Lydia’s photo in Mrs Jennet’s album. It was all
very puzzling to Molly.</p>
<p>It was rather slow work leading Miss Lydia, as
she walked hesitatingly over the rough, uneven
ground, but after a time—a long, long time, it seemed
to Molly—they reached the Giant’s Head, and started
to work their way up and round the side of the hill.
Molly sighed as she looked back and thought of all
the ground she would have to go over again and
search—right from here to the Brown Hills in the
distance. But she must see Miss Lydia safely home
first, and do anything she could to help her. She
found herself wondering how all the other searchers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
were getting on and whether any of them had finished
searching their part of the country yet—or whether
any of them were, unknowingly, nearing success.</p>
<p>Rounding the hill, they came in sight of Miss
Lydia’s cottage. A pretty, creeper-clad cottage,
perched on the hillside, it peeped out of its bushy
garden down at the road far below. Behind the
cottage the Giant’s Head rose up against the sky.
It was a lovely, lonely spot.</p>
<p>Molly led Miss Lydia to the gate. “This is right,
isn’t it?” she asked.</p>
<p>Miss Lydia felt the top of the gate. “Yes, this
is home,” she said. “Thank you ... my dear. I
don’t know how to thank you. You’ll come in with
me, won’t you? Oh, don’t leave me till I’m
indoors.”</p>
<p>“I won’t leave you till you’re indoors,” said
Molly, genuinely sorry for Miss Lydia in her
helpless plight.</p>
<p>She helped Miss Lydia to open her front door,
and the two entered the cottage together.</p>
<p>What would Molly’s feelings have been had she
looked out into the garden a moment later, and seen
the crouching figure that rose, and emerged from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
behind a clump of bushes as soon as the door was
shut? It was an old woman with little darting eyes
and a red scarf wound round her head. Creeping
along, the old woman pushed her way through a broken
fence at the end of the garden, and, darting behind a
group of trees close by, began to signal wildly to
some one at the bottom of the hill.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br />
<span class="stl">Molly Looks Through Miss Lydia’s
Window</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Molly</span> led Miss Lydia into the cottage
parlour—a dainty, fresh little room—and
brought a chair forward into which
Miss Lydia sank gratefully.</p>
<p>“Can I get you anything? Shall I make you
some tea?” suggested Molly cheerfully.</p>
<p>There was no answer, and then she saw that
Miss Lydia was crying softly to herself.</p>
<p>“Oh, dear! I’m so sorry, Miss Lydia,” said
Molly, distressed. “Oh, what can I do? Is there
anything you’d like me to do?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what to do,” said Miss Lydia.
“I feel so helpless here alone. If only I could get
a message through to my sister in the City, she’d
come to me immediately—if she knew. What shall
I do?... You have been so good to me—it’s a
shame to bother you with my troubles, though.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p>
<p>Molly sat down on a chair opposite to Miss Lydia,
and tried to decide what to do. Molly felt very
perplexed and troubled herself. It seemed cruel
to leave Miss Lydia here alone in this deserted
spot, and yet if she took her with her it would
cause so much delay, and time was getting short
now.</p>
<p>“Have you no friends near here that I could
fetch for you?” asked Molly.</p>
<p>Miss Lydia shook her head. “No one very
near. I came to live in this lonely little house away
from my friends, so that I could get on with my
work. I am an artist—I was an artist,” she corrected
herself. “I cannot paint pictures now. I cannot
watch the sun sink over the hills nor see the stars
reflected in the water. What shall I do? What
shall I do?” she sobbed bitterly.</p>
<p>“Oh, don’t, don’t, Miss Lydia!” begged Molly.
“Listen. I know what I’ll do. Tell me the address
of the friends who live nearest here, and I will go
and fetch them. I will bring them back myself—and
then go on my way. You will not mind being
left for a short time, will you?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Miss Lydia. “I don’t feel I dare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
go out again. I will wait here. You are so good
to me. I do hope I am not giving you too much
trouble.”</p>
<p>By this time Molly had quite made up her mind
that Miss Lydia was sincere; no doubt of her
sincerity entered Molly’s mind until happening to
glance out of the window she saw some one dodge
out of sight behind a bush in the garden—some one
with a red scarf bound round her head.</p>
<p>Molly’s knees began to shake. What could this
mean? What was the old woman with the horrible
eyes doing here in Miss Lydia’s garden? Was it
a trap? She looked over at Miss Lydia who was
sitting patiently where Molly had placed her. Molly
moved softly toward the window, and stood, hidden
by the window curtain, looking out. In a few seconds
she saw the old woman’s hand come round the side
of the bush and make a signal toward the hedge by
the fence. The hedge stirred a bit. So there was
some one else hiding there, thought Molly. She
turned to Miss Lydia. The sight of the blind
woman’s gentle face reassured her. No, if this was
a trap, Miss Lydia had nothing to do with it; Molly
felt sure of that. Anyway, she decided that it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
better to tell Miss Lydia what she had just seen in
the garden.</p>
<p>Miss Lydia was terribly agitated at first, and
cried, and seemed so upset that she made Molly want
to cry too.</p>
<p>“But we must be brave, Miss Lydia,” said Molly.
“Trust me, and do what I tell you, will you?” she
urged. “We must help each other all we can. I
will help you with my eyes, and you must help me
with your ears—listen and tell me what you hear.
And you can help me by telling me where to find
things and all that.”</p>
<p>Miss Lydia calmed down gradually, and promised
to aid Molly as much as possible.</p>
<p>Molly’s first act was to ascertain that all the
windows were locked and the front and back doors
bolted. While seeing to these things she discovered
that there were two other spies lurking in the back
garden. One looked something like the figure of
the old watchmaker, only he was dressed differently.
The other man she had not seen before. They were
both badly concealed among some tall plants and
ferns.</p>
<p>“Why are all the spies gathering here together?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>
Molly asked herself. “Do they know I’ve seen
them, I wonder. They don’t mean to let me get
out of this house. They seem to be watching all
round it.”</p>
<p>“What can you see? What can you see?”
asked Miss Lydia, pleadingly.</p>
<p>Molly told her. “I don’t think they can hurt
us—so long as we keep indoors. They’re only
guarding the house to see that I don’t get away,
until——” Molly broke off; “until the Pumpkin
comes,” was what she had been going to say, but
there was no need to set Miss Lydia trembling
afresh.</p>
<p>Molly herself was in such a state of excitement,
darting noiselessly from one window to another,
comforting Miss Lydia, and telling her what she
could see, that there was hardly time to be very
frightened.</p>
<p>Miss Lydia divided her attention between the
front door and the back, listening anxiously at each
in turn. Presently she remembered something, and
called quietly to Molly:</p>
<p>“There is a little room at the very top of the
house, in the roof, a room I use as a studio,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
said. “If you go up you will have a better view of
the garden, and will be able to see far outside the
garden, over the hedges as well.”</p>
<p>“I will go at once and see what I can make
out,” said Molly. “But I saw no stairs leading up
any higher.”</p>
<p>“They are in the cupboard on the landing,” was
Miss Lydia’s reply. “I’ll wait here by the front door.”</p>
<p>Molly dashed upstairs, found the cupboard on
the landing, and, opening the door, saw the concealed
stairs. She ran up these to the studio. There were
four windows in the studio, one on each side of the
room. She looked out of each in turn, taking care
to keep well back in the room so as to be out of sight.
There were splendid views from these windows.
She could see clearly now the old woman still
crouching behind the bush in the front garden.
She could see, too, who was behind the hedge; it
was the girl in green who had met them in the
Third Green Lane and decoyed them to the old
woman.</p>
<p>From the window that looked out on to the
back garden she saw the other two spies still hiding
there, and a third spy hiding a little farther away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>
from them. Her eyes wandered round the garden,
then all at once she gave a gasp as she caught sight
of something that made her heart seem to stop
beating for a moment, then start to hammer madly
at her side.</p>
<p>It was a large Black Leaf, growing in the garden
bed, just behind where the two spies were hiding;
so that from the lower windows they had hidden it
completely from her eyes.</p>
<p>Molly could scarcely believe it for a moment,
and looked again to make sure. Yes; it was the
Black Leaf at last!</p>
<p><em>Now</em> she understood the presence of the spies
here, and their anxiety to keep her away from the
garden, which contained the Leaf they dared not
touch. And now she understood the reason why
the Pumpkin had made Miss Lydia blind.</p>
<p>What a wonder the Pumpkin was not somewhere
near to guard the Leaf, she thought. And even
as she thought this, she saw the Pumpkin. He
came rolling slowly along the garden path toward
the back door.</p>
<p>“Oh, however am I to get the Leaf with the
Pumpkin and all his spies around?” thought Molly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p>
<p>Then she heard Miss Lydia’s voice calling up
the stairs: “Come quickly! Hush! I can hear
that rolling sound again, out in the garden.”</p>
<p>Molly ran downstairs.</p>
<p>“Oh, Miss Lydia, Miss Lydia!” she whispered,
excitedly. “Do you know why they’re all round
this house?—the spies, and the Pumpkin himself—yes,
it is he—oh, hush, Miss Lydia! Do you know
the reason? The Black Leaf is growing in your
garden! I can see it from your studio window.”</p>
<p>Half crying, half laughing, Molly explained
rapidly; while Miss Lydia wrung her hands together
and listened intently.</p>
<p>“’Sh!” she interrupted, suddenly. “Listen. I
can hear the rolling sound outside the front door
now—<em>and</em> the back door.”</p>
<p>“Not both at once?” queried Molly.</p>
<p>“Yes, I can. Listen.”</p>
<p>“Then—oh, then it must be Jack as well—if
there are two Pumpkins,” cried Molly tremulously.
“But I don’t expect he can help us,” she went on
quietly. “He’s under the power of the Pumpkin
entirely; he’ll just have to obey orders.”</p>
<p>Molly was thinking rapidly. What was she to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
do? How could she reach the Leaf before the
Pumpkin touched her. Every moment she expected
to hear three taps on one of the doors, and see it
swing open and the Pumpkin roll in. She made
Miss Lydia sit at the top of the stairs, and she
herself stood half-way up, ready to run, if necessary.
What was she to do? So far the Pumpkin had
made no attempt to enter the house, but was content
to bide his time outside. Unfortunately Molly did
not know which door he was waiting at, nor which
of the two Grey Pumpkins outside was the real
Pumpkin and which was Jack.</p>
<p>How could she reach the Black Leaf before the
Pumpkin or the spies could stop her? Try to
reach it she must, yet she knew if she stepped
outside she would not stand a moment’s chance. On
the other hand, she and Miss Lydia might remain
shut up in this house for ever so long—perhaps
until the thirteen days were up and the Leaf had
disappeared; and then the Pumpkin could tap on
the door and enter, and they would be powerless to
defend themselves. If only something would happen
to distract the watchers outside, just for half a minute,
that would be time enough—she could reach the Leaf<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
in less time than that. Oh, how tantalizingly near
the Leaf seemed—and yet how far away.</p>
<p>Presently Molly asked, “Is there a tree in your
garden that grows anywhere near one of the upstairs
windows, Miss Lydia? I didn’t notice when I ran
through the rooms.”</p>
<p>“There is one at the side of the house,” said Miss
Lydia. “It can be reached from my bedroom
window—the branches tap against the window-pane.
Why? What do you want to know about the tree
for?”</p>
<p>“Wait a moment,” said Molly. “I’ll just run up
and have a look at it first.”</p>
<p>While she was upstairs she had another look out
of the studio window also. Of course the Leaf was
still there—and the two crouching figures among the
tall plants. Molly had thought out her plan by this
time, and noticed with satisfaction that evening was
rapidly approaching. For, “It must be done in the
dusk,” she told herself. “Just before the moon
comes up.”</p>
<p>She went down to Miss Lydia again and sat
beside her at the top of the first flight of stairs.</p>
<p>“The tree will do splendidly,” whispered Molly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
Then she told her companion what she had planned
to do. “And I want you to help me, if you will,
Miss Lydia.” She paused. “I’m going to ask you
to do a very plucky thing. In half an hour’s time I
want you to draw the bolts of the back door and walk
out into the garden.”</p>
<p>Miss Lydia was startled.</p>
<p>“I know it seems a dreadfully hard thing to ask
you to do,” Molly went on hurriedly. “But I
believe it is the only way out of our difficulties. For
the sake of every one who has suffered through the
Pumpkin, for my sake, for your own sake, will you
take the risk, Miss Lydia? In the end, it may be
the means of restoring your sight, you know.”</p>
<p>They talked in whispers for a while.</p>
<p>“And you don’t think it’s any good waiting?—in
case some help comes?” asked Miss Lydia
wistfully.</p>
<p>“Not a bit of good, I’m afraid,” said Molly
gently. “It’s very unlikely that help will come—I
think we must rely only on ourselves.”</p>
<p>“Then I won’t fail you,” said Miss Lydia.</p>
<p>They sat there, talking occasionally, until dusk
fell. Then Molly went into Miss Lydia’s bedroom,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
and cautiously opened the window and looked out.
There appeared to be no one watching this side of
the house; if there was any one, it was too dark to
see them, and so they would not be able to see her,
Molly thought. She had strapped her little pocket
satchel firmly across her shoulders, and just inside,
where she could easily reach it, was Old Nancy’s box
of matches.</p>
<p>Fortunately there was a slight breeze blowing, so
that any rustling of the trees, unless unusually loud,
would not attract attention. Molly got out on to the
window sill, and from there climbed as noiselessly as
possible into the tree. Molly had had a good deal of
experience in tree-climbing now, nevertheless she was
trembling as she lowered herself down to the branches
nearest the ground; it was not a nice sensation
climbing down, when you didn’t know what was at
the bottom. She waited for a while, and listened,
peering out from among the leaves. Nothing stirred
in the garden below.</p>
<p>As far as she could make out, she had but to drop
to the ground, run round the corner of the house
along the path, or across the garden bed, and the
Leaf was on the left-hand side, she remembered,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
close to a big tree, whose outline could be dimly
seen.</p>
<p>Molly waited, full of doubts and anxieties. After
all, was this a wise plan to try? was it too simple to
have any chance of success? What a long time Miss
Lydia was. Supposing her courage failed at the last
moment—well, who could blame her? It was such
an easy thing for Miss Lydia to do, and yet such
a hard thing. The Pumpkin was almost sure to
catch her—poor Miss Lydia—but it would only be
a momentary triumph; Molly would soon see that
things were put right again—that is, if the Pumpkin
did not catch Molly too. But Molly dared not think
about that. She was strung up to such a pitch of
nervous excitement that every second seemed like a
whole minute, while she waited. How brave it
would be of Miss Lydia if she did—But what a
long time she was. Could anything have happened
to her? Perhaps the Pumpkin had.... Hark!
what was that!</p>
<p>It was the sound of the back door bolts being
withdrawn.</p>
<p>Instantly there was a stir in the garden, and a
subdued murmuring floated up to Molly’s ears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p>
<p>The back door was flung open noisily, and footsteps
could be heard on the path. Molly got out her
box of matches.</p>
<p>The garden was now alive with whispering figures.
Several moved quickly toward the back door; there
was a scuffle; a scream; the sound of footsteps
running, and a dull thud, thud; then the sound of
many voices, calling, shouting directions, raised high
as if in some dispute.</p>
<p>In the midst of all this Molly dropped to the
ground and ran rapidly round the corner of the house,
bounded over the garden bed, skirting the clump of
plants where she had seen the two spies hiding, and
made straight for the big tree. Just as she reached
the spot where she thought the Black Leaf was, she
felt some one grab hold of her arm and she was
jerked back.</p>
<p>“Here she is! Here she is! That’s not her at
the back door! Here she is! Ah, ha...!” screamed
a voice in the darkness beside her, the voice of the
old woman with the horrible eyes, who had evidently
run to guard the Leaf when the back door opened.
“Quick! Come quick! Here she is! <em>Now</em> I’ve
got you, my beauty!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p>
<p>Immediately there was an uproar. The rush of
many feet, shouts, exclamations, came from every
direction. There had evidently been far more spies
hiding in the garden than Molly had known.</p>
<p>Quick as thought, she struck one of Old Nancy’s
matches, and as the light spurted out of the
darkness, she flashed the flame across the hands
that were gripping her arm. With a cry of pain the
old woman loosened her grasp, and Molly wriggled
and, darting forward, clutched at the stalk of the
Black Leaf—and plucked it.</p>
<p>Holding the flaring match in one hand, high above
her head, and clasping the Black Leaf firmly in the
other hand, Molly called out in a clear voice the
words Old Nancy had told her:</p>
<p>“Come to me, Grey Pumpkin! I command you
by the Black Leaf!”</p>
<p>Slowly, very slowly, there emerged from the
darkness two Grey Pumpkins. As they rolled
toward her, Molly glanced hesitatingly from one
to the other; then, as they came within reach,
she stooped and hastily touched both with the Leaf.
The Pumpkins rocked to and fro for a second, then
became still at her feet.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span></p>
<p>The Grey Pumpkin was conquered at last.</p>
<p>Molly stood silent. She could hardly realize that
it was true. After a while she became aware of a
curious stillness in the garden; the Pumpkin’s friends
had quietly crept away.</p>
<p>Molly looked down at the Pumpkins in front of
her, vaguely disappointed. She had somehow had a
feeling that Jack would be restored to her directly
she had found the Black Leaf. The two Grey
Pumpkins at her feet looked each exactly the same as
the other—she could not tell which was the real Grey
Pumpkin herself. This, then, was the Pumpkin’s
object in turning Jack into a likeness of himself;
this was his last revenge. Poor Molly, she had been
looking forward eagerly to seeing Jack again; there
was so much good news to share with him; and so,
in her moment of triumph, Molly’s eyes were full of
tears.</p>
<p>“I can’t understand it,” she thought. “I expected
he would change back when I touched him
with the Black Leaf.... I must take them both
back to Old Nancy; she’ll know what to do.”</p>
<p>Then, with a pang of remorse, she remembered
Miss Lydia.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><a id="illus07"></a>
<img src="images/illus07.jpg" width="407" height="556" alt="" />
<p class="caption">QUICK AS THOUGHT, SHE STRUCK ONE OF OLD NANCY’S
MATCHES</p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p>
<p>“Follow me,” said Molly to the Pumpkins, and
they obeyed her. It was strange that both of them
obeyed the holder of the Black Leaf, but they did,
following about a couple of yards behind her.</p>
<p>At the door of the cottage she found Miss Lydia
lying on the ground, her face white and her eyes
closed. Molly called her by name, but she did not
answer. It was growing a little lighter now, as the
moon was beginning to appear. Molly groped
her way into the house and fetched some water,
and knelt and bathed Miss Lydia’s forehead, calling
her gently from time to time. It was a curious scene
in the dim garden. Molly on her knees beside
Miss Lydia, the Black Leaf tucked into the strap
of her satchel, while on each side of the doorway,
like sentinels, were two motionless Grey Pumpkins.</p>
<p>At length Miss Lydia stirred, and gradually
recovered. Presently she opened her eyes, then gave
a glad cry.</p>
<p>“Oh, I can see! I can see!” she said. “Oh, my
dear!” And she cried a little, then began to laugh.</p>
<p>Molly told her quickly what had happened, and
Miss Lydia was overjoyed at beholding the Black
Leaf in Molly’s hand, and the Pumpkin waiting for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
commands, though she was grieved and puzzled that
Molly’s brother had not yet been restored. She,
herself, could not remember anything after she had
come outside into the garden.</p>
<p>“I felt something bump against me, and I fell—and
that’s all,” she said. “But I’m better now.”</p>
<p>“The first thing I must do,” said Molly, “is to
set fire to the nearest beacon. They are marked on
my map ... there is one being guarded on a hill
close by.”</p>
<hr class="l3" />
<p>Half an hour later a flame sprang out of the
night, on the top of a hill near the Giant’s Head.
Spreading rapidly, the fire darted and leapt, rising
higher and higher, until it became a great mass of
blazing light.</p>
<p>People far and near stopped and gazed, crying excitedly
to each other. “Look! Look! It’s the beacon—the
first beacon! The Black Leaf is found!”</p>
<p>And as they watched, an answering beacon leapt
forth from a neighbouring height. Hill after hill
took up the glad news and passed it on, until the
beacons, blazing throughout the kingdom, turned
night into day.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br />
<span class="stl">What Happened Outside Old Nancy’s
Cottage</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">Molly</span> had struck the last but one of
Old Nancy’s matches in order to set
light to the beacon. And now she and
Miss Lydia, and the two men who had been guarding
the beacon, stood on the hilltop gazing out at
the answering light on the neighbouring hill. The
fire cast a red glow over them all, and over the silent
Grey Pumpkins in their midst. It could be seen
that the guards wore curious dark red boots; these
were part of Old Nancy’s magic protection against
the Pumpkin and his spies, as also was the white
circle chalked on the ground around the fire.</p>
<p>As they gazed down from the hill one of the
guards told Molly the quickest way back to the East
Gate of the City. If she followed the High Road,
which was dimly visible far below, for about a mile
she would come to a lane with a sign-post which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>
said, ‘To the Orange Wood.’ Go to the bottom of
this lane, over a little bridge across the river, and
then along another lane which skirted the wood, and
she would find herself in the village at the edge of
the Goblin’s Heath. Back over the Heath was the
shortest way then. But she would save several
miles by going along the High Road at first.</p>
<p>Molly was very pleased to hear of this short cut,
as she had not thought of looking up her map yet;
and so, being very anxious to reach Old Nancy,
Molly and Miss Lydia, who had determined to
return with her, said good-bye to the guards and
started off down the hillside, followed by the two
Pumpkins.</p>
<p>As they went along Molly insisted on Miss
Lydia, who looked very tired and exhausted, having
two of the little brown square sweets that Old
Nancy had given her; and she ate two herself.
After a few minutes both she and Miss Lydia felt
much refreshed, and fit for the journey in front of
them. It was strange and delightful to Molly to
know that there was nothing now to be afraid of;
no more dodging and hiding and distrusting everybody.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span></p>
<p>When they neared the bottom of the hill, they
caught sight of a figure emerging from a wood on
the opposite side of the High Road. The person
stood gazing up at the blazing beacon, spellbound;
then all at once gave a whoop of joy and did a sort
of step-dance in the road.</p>
<p>“Oh!” cried Molly, delighted. “It is—its
Glan!”</p>
<p>And Glan it was, sure enough. He raced to
meet them as soon as he saw the little party moving
down.</p>
<p>“So it <em>is</em> you, little lady. You’ve done it, after
all!” he shouted, as he came toward them. “Well
done, well done!” and he seized Molly’s hand and
shook it till he nearly shook it off. “But where’s
your brother?” he asked, noting, with puzzled eyes,
the two Pumpkins.</p>
<p>Molly told him what had happened to Jack, as
they all moved onward to the High Road; and
then she went on to explain where she found the
Black Leaf, and how bravely Miss Lydia had acted.</p>
<p>“Madam, I’m proud to meet you,” said Glan,
shaking hands with Miss Lydia. “If I had only
known, I could have come to your aid. I was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
not so far away, finishing searching that wood,
which is my boundary; you remember, I mentioned
that part of my search-ground joined yours,” he
turned to Molly, “but, of course, I knew nothing,
till I saw that blaze in the sky,” he waved his hand
toward the beacon. “You’re not worrying about
your brother, are you, little lady?” he inquired,
peering anxiously at Molly. “Don’t do that. Old
Nancy will soon put things right, I feel sure.”</p>
<p>As they went along he told them some of his
adventures, and the narrow escapes he had had
from being caught by the spies; his ‘poor old
Father’ had been nearly caught once also.</p>
<p>By the time he had finished they were well on
the way back along the High Road. It seemed to
Molly that the return journey developed into something
like a triumphal procession. She would rather
have gone back quietly without any fuss, but the
people who ran out to meet her seemed so deeply
thankful and so full of gratitude that she had not
the heart to wish them not to cheer. There were
many glances of awe directed at the two Pumpkins
as they rolled steadily along side by side. Many of
the people followed Molly, and Miss Lydia, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>
Glan, all the way back to the City—a straggling
crowd that grew in numbers, collecting people
from every house that was passed on the road.
Presently the High Road was left behind and they
took the short cut through the lane that went near
the Orange Wood.</p>
<p>Here Molly saw Farmer and Mrs Rose hurrying
to join them, and she had to explain something of
what had happened as they walked on beside her.</p>
<p>They went through the village, and all the
people turned out and cheered them in magnificent
style, and Miss Marigold and Timothy hastened to
join the crowd. It was a strange crowd, made up
of all sorts of people, little and big, old and young,
that flocked round the little girl and the two Grey
Pumpkins that followed close behind her. The
people’s awe of the Pumpkin was not easily
overcome, and they kept a respectful distance in
spite of the fact that the little girl held in her
hand the Black Leaf.</p>
<p>Out over the Goblin’s Heath they all trooped.
There were rustlings in the bushes here, and darting
little figures that scampered across their path, which
made Glan laugh hilariously. From the Goblin’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
Heath they could see the beacons blazing on the hills
for miles round.</p>
<p>When they entered the Second Green Lane they
saw a figure bustling along in front of them, that
Molly recognized at once. It was Mr Papingay on
his way to the City. He seemed glad to see Molly
again, and inquired immediately about his Black Leaf.</p>
<p>“I haven’t shown it yet, but I’m going to,” said
Molly. “I’ve kept it carefully. Think what all
these people will say when they see it—when we
reach the City!”</p>
<p>At which he beamed and seemed content. Glan
greeted him heartily, slapping him on the back and
calling him ‘Uncle’; and they walked on together
arm in arm, both of them talking unceasingly.
Whether either of them listened to a word the other
said is more than any one can say.</p>
<p>When they reached the High Road again they
could hear all the bells in the City ringing, and
people were watching anxiously from the top of the
City walls. “Here they are! Here they are!” cried
somebody, and then such a cheer went up that the
sound of the bells was drowned altogether for a few
moments.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
<p>To Molly the return journey had seemed very
short, partly because of the short cuts they had taken,
and partly because they had been able to keep straight
ahead, as there was now no searching or dodging to
delay them. But altogether they had travelled many
miles and had been several hours on the journey, and
the night was now far advanced. It was a perfect
night, warm and still and clear, for the moon sailed
overhead, flooding the land with its beautiful white
light.</p>
<p>Many of the citizens had already gone out on to
the hill by the West Gate, in readiness to see them
pass down to Old Nancy’s. Those that were left
joined in the procession at the rear. On passing
Glan’s shop they found that his Father and Aunt
Janet had already gone ahead, as they did not know
which way the procession was coming, and they
wanted ‘a front seat,’ Glan said.</p>
<p>Outside the West Gate the King was waiting,
and he put his hands on Molly’s shoulders and
thanked her very sincerely in the name of the country.
Then he walked with her down the hill, and she told
him about Jack.</p>
<p>The hill was packed with people, eager, murmuring,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
straining to catch a glimpse of Molly and the
Pumpkins. As she drew near Old Nancy’s cottage,
Molly saw that a wide space had been cleared around
the cottage by the City guards; and there was Old
Nancy standing waiting by her door, the firelight
flickering in the room behind her, just as she had
stood when Molly had last seen her.</p>
<p>She held out her hands to Molly when she
caught sight of the little girl. The King gently
urged Molly forward, and so she stepped out alone
into the open space, and went toward Old Nancy,
the two Pumpkins following obediently. Then a
strange hush fell over the huge crowd gathered on
the hill, and every one waited expectantly for what
was about to happen.</p>
<p>“Here is the Black Leaf,” said Molly, handing
the Leaf to Old Nancy. “And here is the Grey
Pumpkin—and Jack.”</p>
<p>Old Nancy stooped and kissed Molly on the
forehead. “My dear, how can I thank you,” she
said. “But tell me how this happened,” and she
motioned toward the two Pumpkins.</p>
<p>Molly explained. The people around could not
hear what Molly said, but the whisper ran from one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>
to the other that one of the Pumpkins was the little
girl’s brother who was under a spell.</p>
<p>“Oh, will you bring Jack back again?” begged
Molly anxiously.</p>
<p>Old Nancy looked gravely at each of the Pumpkins
in turn. “Which <em>is</em> Jack,” she muttered to herself.
Then she peered closer—stretching out her hand and
turning each of the Pumpkins over and round about.
The crowd gasped when she first touched the
Pumpkins; it was difficult to get used to the idea
that the Pumpkin was harmless now. “A pin was
stuck in the Pumpkin pincushion,” she said to herself.
“Let me see now, let me see now.... Ah....
Then <em>this</em> one is the Grey Pumpkin,” cried Old
Nancy, triumphantly. “For there is a big pin stuck
through the top of him now.”</p>
<p>A great cheer went up from the crowd, though
those at the back did not know what they were
cheering about.</p>
<p>Old Nancy touched the Grey Pumpkin three
times with the Black Leaf. The Pumpkin trembled,
rocked, then was still.</p>
<p>“The Grey Pumpkin is now completely in my
power,” said Old Nancy. “But before we punish him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>
let us make sure that he has remedied all the mischief
he has done. Most of you who have suffered through
him probably found that you were suddenly released
from the spells which had held you—as soon as the
Black Leaf was plucked. Is that correct?”</p>
<p>Murmurs of assent came from the crowd. Old
Nancy asked any who were still suffering from
spells put on them by the Pumpkin to step forward;
and waited; but no one stepped forward. Molly
looked across at Miss Lydia and smiled.</p>
<p>“Then there is only this one last case to restore.”
Old Nancy pointed to one of the Grey Pumpkins.
“This spell was different from the others, because it
was worked upon a person from the Impossible
World.” She hesitated, looking down at the Pumpkin
which was supposed to contain Jack.</p>
<p>Molly saw some one signalling wildly to her from
the crowd. It was Mr Papingay.</p>
<p>“Don’t forget,” he called to Molly in a loud aside.
“Now’s the time!”</p>
<p>Molly remembered her promise, and opening her
little satchel rummaged about inside, then took out
Mr Papingay’s painted black leaf, and unfolded it.</p>
<p>“What is that?” asked Old Nancy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span></p>
<p>“It is a black leaf which Mr Papingay painted,
and which I promised to show everybody, and he
wants me to do it now,” said Molly, holding it out.</p>
<p>A flicker of a smile showed at the corners of Old
Nancy’s mouth, but she sternly repressed it. She
took the painted leaf and gazed at it for a moment,
then muttered something in an undertone and made
a sign across the leaf with her left hand, holding the
real Black Leaf and the painted leaf together in her
right.</p>
<p>“Have you any of the matches left that I gave
you?” she asked Molly.</p>
<p>“One,” Molly replied.</p>
<p>“That’s just right.” Old Nancy held the painted
leaf high in the air. “I want you all to see this
leaf which has been made and painted by Mr Papingay,
and is an exact copy of the Black Leaf. It is a clever
piece of work—and useful—as you shall see. Mr
Papingay, have I your permission to do anything I
like with this?”</p>
<p>“Certainly, ma’am—anything you like,” beamed
Mr Papingay, swelling with pride at his own and the
leaf’s importance.</p>
<p>Old Nancy handed the painted leaf back to Molly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>
“Place it under that Grey Pumpkin,” she said, pointing
to Jack’s Pumpkin.</p>
<p>When Molly had done this, she was told to strike
her one remaining match and set light to the painted
leaf. This she did, and stood back as it caught
alight, and little tongues of fire and grey puffs
of smoke curled round the Pumpkin. Higher the
smoke curled, and thicker it became, until the Pumpkin
was entirely hidden from view in the centre of a great
column of grey smoke. Every one watched—fascinated.
Suddenly there was a terrific bang—then the
smoke began to thin and drift apart. As it cleared
away a figure could be seen standing in the centre
of it.</p>
<p>It was Jack, dazed and rubbing his eyes.</p>
<p>“Jack! Jack!” cried Molly, rushing toward him.
“Oh, I am so glad! Are you quite all right, Jack?
Are you hurt?” She drew him out of the smoke.</p>
<p>“Hullo!” he said, gazing round. “Oh, I say,
what’s happened?”</p>
<p>He was soon told.</p>
<p>“And do you mean to say that I’ve been stowed
away in an old pumpkin, and been rolling about all
over the country?—well, I must have looked an ass!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
said Jack. “But I don’t remember anything—only
feel as if I’ve been shut up somewhere and been to
sleep.” He found his hand seized by one friend after
another, and himself congratulated and questioned by
the crowd that gathered round him.</p>
<p>“And so it was your leaf that did the trick, Mr
Papingay, was it?” said Jack, grasping that gentleman’s
hand and pumping it up and down. “Well,
I’m blessed—you are a marvellous man!”</p>
<p>Which was just what Mr Papingay, his face
wreathed in smiles, was thinking about himself.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br />
<span class="stl">The Grey Pumpkin’s Fate</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">And</span> now, the smoke having entirely disappeared,
Old Nancy turned again toward
the Grey Pumpkin. She raised the Black
Leaf high over her head and, closing her eyes,
murmured something to herself; then she opened
her eyes and said to Molly:</p>
<p>“I have summoned the Pumpkin’s spies, but
while we are waiting for them I want you to tell us
the story of how you found the Black Leaf.”</p>
<p>Molly felt very shy all at once, but she obeyed
Old Nancy, and standing on the doorstep, facing
the crowd, she told her story as briefly as she could,
without leaving out the name of anybody who had
helped. One of the councillors was asked by the
King to take down her words in a note-book so
that they could be afterward read by all those at a
distance who could not hear. When Molly came to
the part about Miss Lydia she forgot her shyness
and grew enthusiastic.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p>
<p>“I could never have got the Black Leaf at the
end if it hadn’t been for Miss Lydia,” she cried.
“She was awfully brave. Although she had been
made blind by the Pumpkin she walked out into
the garden where the Leaf was growing and where
the Pumpkin and his spies were waiting—she went
out deliberately—to distract them—while I got the
Leaf.”</p>
<p>“Three cheers for Miss Lydia!” cried someone
in the crowd, and the cheers were given heartily,
much to Miss Lydia’s confusion.</p>
<p>When Molly reached the end of her tale there
was a perfect storm of cheering; she stepped down,
flushed and excited, and stood talking to Old Nancy
for a few minutes, until the cheering gradually died
away and in its place a low muttering and groaning
arose at the back of the crowd, followed by an outburst
of booing and hissing. Molly turned quickly
and saw that the crowd had parted, and through
the space made a procession of people was wending
its way. They were the Pumpkin’s spies; some
very dejected, with hanging heads; others sullen
and defiant. First came the old woman with the
scarlet turban and the little darting eyes; next<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>
came the girl in green; then several others that
Molly had never seen before—though judging by
the remarks to be heard on all sides they were no
strangers to the other searchers; among those in
the rear Molly recognized the old watchmaker, and
the man on horseback, who had given her the letter
that was supposed to be from Old Nancy. There
were about thirty of the spies altogether, and they
gathered in a group before Old Nancy, who eyed
them sadly.</p>
<p>“Was it you who scattered the grey powder on
my window sill, and made me sleep through the
sunset hour, and so enabled the Pumpkin to return?”
she asked of the old woman who had led the band
of spies.</p>
<p>The old woman nodded. “When some one in
the Impossible World pierced the Pumpkin with
a pin, the power for good which held me was
suddenly dispersed, and all the evil magic that I
knew rushed into my mind, and I made the grey
powder and brought it to you ... heh, heh, heh,”
a chuckle escaped. “And I’m glad I did. We’ve
had a splendid time, ain’t we, ducky?” she leered at
the girl in green, who nodded sullenly. “And if it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>
hadn’t bin for a sort of muddle we made between
us in our eagerness to keep that meddlin’ gel away”—the
old woman gave Molly an ugly glance—“our
Grey Pumpkin wouldn’t have bin caught and here
to-day, that he wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>“Tell me about the muddle,” said Old Nancy,
swaying the Black Leaf in her hand gently toward
the old woman, who seemed compelled to answer.</p>
<p>“In the first place one of us led her”—she jerked
her head in the direction of Miss Lydia—“to the
wrong lake by mistake, when she was blind—right
into that gel’s path instead of out of it, and when
we found out what had bin done and went to fetch
her away from Lake Desolate, we couldn’t find her.
So, in case she came back to the Lake (which she
did) another of us, thinking to cover up the mistake,
wrote a letter making believe it was from you, Old
Nancy; and the gel would have believed the letter
and obeyed it, and everything would have bin all
right for us, only something put it into her head not
to believe the letter, and so she led the blind woman
home and found the Leaf growing in her garden.
But even then she would never have got the Leaf
if it hadn’t bin for those matches of yours, Old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
Nancy; they do burn,” and the old woman held out
her right hand across the back of which was a deep
red scar. “What put it into your head not to believe
that letter?” she asked suddenly of Molly.</p>
<p>“I had seen Miss Lydia’s photo at a friend’s
house, and I recognized her as soon as I saw her
beside Lake Desolate—and so I trusted her,” Molly
answered.</p>
<p>“So that’s how it was,” nodded the old woman.
“Of course we sent for the Pumpkin at once as soon
as we found you were on your way to the house,
but he did not arrive until you were inside, so we
thought we’d catch you coming out.”</p>
<p>“Are none of you repentant?” asked Old Nancy.
“None of you sorry for all the unhappiness you
have caused?”</p>
<p>“Repentant! I should think not,” the old woman
answered. “No, though we’re powerless now—we’re
not repentant. We had the finest time of our
lives; that’s so, comrades, ain’t it?”</p>
<p>The other spies assented without hesitation.</p>
<p>“Then,” said Old Nancy, “it would be best
to banish you all, together with your leader, the
Grey Pumpkin, out of our world into the Impossible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>
World, where you can do no harm. Is it your wish
that I do this?” Old Nancy cried to the crowd.</p>
<p>“Yes, yes. Banish them! Banish them!” the
answer came from hundreds of voices; and for a few
minutes there was a deafening roar from the people;
but as Old Nancy lifted her hand the noise died
away and there was silence again.</p>
<p>Old Nancy moved among the spies, touching
each with the Black Leaf and muttering some words
to herself; they shivered as the Leaf touched them.</p>
<p>“You shall retain your human forms in the
Impossible World,” said Old Nancy to the spies.
“But all the evil magic you have learned you shall
forget. You will forget, too, your life in this world;
sometimes you will have vague recollections, but
you will never be able to find your way back here
again, and you will not be able to do any harm
to others in the Impossible World. I am allowing
you to retain your human forms, because, bad as you
have been, you have not been as bad as the Grey
Pumpkin. According to your wicked acts in this
land, so will your unhappiness be in the Impossible
World. <em>You</em> will be very unhappy,” she ended,
pointing to the old woman.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p>
<p>Then muttering some strange words Old Nancy
waved the Leaf again, and the spies moved slowly
away toward the great tree on the opposite side
of the High Road.</p>
<p>“Knock three times,” commanded Old Nancy.</p>
<p>And the old woman, with a last defiant toss of
the head, knocked three times. The door in the tree
swung open, and one after the other the spies passed
through, and the door closed after them with a thud.</p>
<p>All this time the Grey Pumpkin had remained
motionless in front of the cottage door, and now
Old Nancy approached him and, touching him once
more with the Black Leaf, said:</p>
<p>“Go! Back to the Impossible World! Not as a
pincushion this time, though you shall still retain
your hated shape and shall not resume your human
form again. You shall become a footstool for people
to kick about and rest their feet on—you shall
become a hassock! Go! And never, never return.”</p>
<p>Slowly the Grey Pumpkin swayed from side to
side, then rolled away across the road to the tree.
It knocked three times against the tree, the door
opened, and the Grey Pumpkin passed out into
the Impossible World.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p>
<p>The silence which followed the closing of the
door in the tree was broken by a terrible guffaw
of laughter from Glan’s Father. At once a wild
outburst of cheers and laughter and shouting came
from the crowd on the hill; cheers for Old Nancy;
cheers for the King; cheers for Molly and Jack;
cheers for the other searchers; there seemed no end
to the cheering, for the people were mad with
delight. But through it all Glan’s Father laughed
on, until the tears rolled down his cheeks and Aunt
Janet grew flustered and alarmed. But Glan only
stood in front of his Father, his arms akimbo, and
laughed too.</p>
<p>“That’s right, Father!” he cried. “Go on! Go
on! Let him be, Aunt Janet, he’s not had a laugh
for years and years.”</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Jack and Molly were making preparations
for returning home through the tree. Molly
handed the satchels back to Old Nancy, and although
both the children were sorry to leave their friends,
they felt that now their work was finished they would
like to return home; it was a long time since they
had seen Mother and Father. And so they began to
say good-bye to the little group of friends around<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
them, including Mrs Jennet, who had arrived with
Mr Jennet—so exactly like herself—in time to
witness the exit of the Pumpkin.</p>
<p>The King and Old Nancy had been talking apart
from the crowd, and now they turned to Jack and
Molly.</p>
<p>“Will you accept this?” said the King to Molly,
handing her a little box, “as a small token of our
thanks and appreciation of the service you have done
this country.... It seems a very insignificant thing
to offer you, but it has an unusual gift attached to it.
Whenever you wear it you will be happy and will
give happiness to those around you.... Do not
open the box now, but place it on your table, when
you get home, where the pincushion stood; and when
the sunshine falls across it—open it; if you open
it before, the special gift I mentioned will not be
with it.”</p>
<p>Molly took the little box and thanked the King
sincerely, with sparkling eyes.</p>
<p>To Jack the King said, “I have just heard that
you go in for painting, so I am having a special set
of painting-brushes made for you, which will help
you to do good work—they are rather special<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>
brushes;” he and Old Nancy exchanged mysterious
smiles. “I want you to accept them as a little
memento of your visit, but as they are not quite
ready, I shall send them to you to-morrow.”</p>
<p>“Thanks awfully, your Majesty, but I don’t feel
as if I’ve earned them properly, you know,” said Jack.
But the King shook him warmly by the hand and
said he had done a great deal to help.</p>
<p>And so they bade the King good-bye.</p>
<p>“You will find that your Mother hasn’t been
anxious about you—I saw to that,” said Old Nancy,
as they said good-bye to her.</p>
<p>And Glan said, “Come and see us again some
day, little lady, you and your brother. Do, won’t
you? Knock three times on the tree when the moon
is full, remember.”</p>
<p>“Oh, we’d love to come again some day, wouldn’t
we, Jack?” said Molly.</p>
<p>“Rather,” said Jack.</p>
<p>So, for the third time that night the door in the
tree opened in response to the three knocks. And
this time a little girl and boy passed through to the
Impossible World again.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p>
<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br />
<span class="stl">The Impossible World Again</span></h2>
<p class="cap"><span class="upper">When</span> Jack and Molly reached the fence
that separated their garden from the wood,
Jack was surprised to find his slipper
still lying there—the slipper he had lost on the way
out.</p>
<p>“Oh, I say, Moll,” he said. “Look here—I
forgot to give Old Nancy her slipper back, and now
I’ve got three slippers all alike!”</p>
<p>Which was in truth the case. As they crossed
the garden they noticed that day was just dawning.
They found the back door locked, but Jack scrambled
through the scullery window, which was unfastened,
and so let Molly in without disturbing anybody.
They crept upstairs and managed to get an hour’s
rest before the breakfast bell rang.</p>
<p>Molly remembered to place her little box on the
dressing-table before she went to sleep, and when
she woke she saw that the sun was streaming right
across it. So she sprang up eagerly and opened the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
box. Inside was the most exquisite silver bangle
that she had ever seen. Molly was delighted, and
she found afterward that it had indeed some special
charm about it, for she was always happy when
wearing it and those around her seemed the same.</p>
<p>At the breakfast-table Mother and Father seemed
to the children to glance at them rather curiously.</p>
<p>“Mother,” began Molly, “do you know who gave
me this?” and she showed her the silver bracelet.</p>
<p>“Yes,” said Mother to Molly’s surprise. “I know
all about it.”</p>
<p>“Why, how did you?” asked Jack.</p>
<p>But “Ah!” was all Mother would say, and she
and Father exchanged amused glances.</p>
<p>It was a little puzzling. And even when there
arrived by post for Jack a long narrow box containing
three paint-brushes, Mother and Father never asked
whom they were from, although there was no name
inside.</p>
<p>“I suppose there’s no need for us to tell you all
about our adventure, if you know already?” remarked
Jack. “Do you know everything?”</p>
<p>“Everything,” replied Mother, smiling.</p>
<p>Of course the grey pumpkin pincushion had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
entirely vanished from Molly’s dressing-table, and she
never set eyes on it again, though she wrote and
thanked Aunt Phœbe for her ‘useful present.’</p>
<p>Jack and Molly often wonder where the Grey
Pumpkin and his spies are. They have never seen
any of them yet, though Molly has seen a ticket-collector
who reminds her somewhat of the old
watchmaker. Both children keep a watchful eye
on all shops that sell hassocks, and always glance
eagerly round the room when they are invited out
to tea anywhere, but so far they have not come across
the Grey Pumpkin.</p>
<div class="tnote">
<p class="tn">Transcriber’s note</p>
<p>A table of Contents was missing in the original, and has been added.
The spelling of the name of Aunt Phœbe has been made consistent. Some
missing letters and punctuation have been added. Otherwise the original
has been preserved, including inconsistent spelling and hyphenation.</p>
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 45802 ***</div>
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