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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvie and Bruno, by Lewis Carroll
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost
+no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use
+it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sylvie and Bruno
+
+Author: Lewis Carroll
+
+
+Released August, 1996 [Etext #620] Last Updated: April 15, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SYLVIE AND BRUNO ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer
+
+
+
+
+
+SYLVIE and BRUNO
+
+By Lewis Carroll
+
+
+
+     Is all our Life, then but a dream
+     Seen faintly in the goldern gleam
+     Athwart Time's dark resistless stream?
+
+     Bowed to the earth with bitter woe
+     Or laughing at some raree-show
+     We flutter idly to and fro.
+
+     Man's little Day in haste we spend,
+     And, from its merry noontide, send
+     No glance to meet the silent end.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+SYLVIE AND BRUNO
+
+CHAPTER 1. LESS BREAD! MORE TAXES!
+
+CHAPTER 2. L'AMIE INCONNUE.
+
+CHAPTER 3. BIRTHDAY-PRESENTS.
+
+CHAPTER 4. A CUNNING CONSPIRACY.
+
+CHAPTER 5. A BEGGAR'S PALACE.
+
+CHAPTER 6. THE MAGIC LOCKET.
+
+CHAPTER 7. THE BARONS EMBASSY.
+
+CHAPTER 8. A RIDE ON A LION.
+
+CHAPTER 9. A JESTER AND A BEAR.
+
+CHAPTER 10. THE OTHER PROFESSOR.
+
+CHAPTER 11. PETER AND PAUL.
+
+CHAPTER 12. A MUSICAL GARDENER.
+
+CHAPTER 13. A VISIT TO DOGLAND.
+
+CHAPTER 14. FAIRY-SYLVIE.
+
+CHAPTER 15. BRUNO'S REVENGE.
+
+CHAPTER 16. A CHANGED CROCODILE.
+
+CHAPTER 17. THE THREE BADGERS.
+
+CHAPTER 18. QUEER STREET, NUMBER FORTY.
+
+CHAPTER 19. HOW TO MAKE A PHLIZZ.
+
+CHAPTER 20. LIGHT COME, LIGHT GO.
+
+CHAPTER 21. THROUGH THE IVORY DOOR.
+
+CHAPTER 22. CROSSING THE LINE.
+
+CHAPTER 23. AN OUTLANDISH WATCH.
+
+CHAPTER 24. THE FROGS' BIRTHDAY-TREAT.
+
+CHAPTER 25. LOOKING EASTWARD.
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+
+
+
+SYLVIE AND BRUNO
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 1. LESS BREAD! MORE TAXES!
+
+--and then all the people cheered again, and one man, who was more
+excited than the rest, flung his hat high into the air, and shouted
+(as well as I could make out) "Who roar for the Sub-Warden?" Everybody
+roared, but whether it was for the Sub-Warden, or not, did not clearly
+appear: some were shouting "Bread!" and some "Taxes!", but no one seemed
+to know what it was they really wanted.
+
+All this I saw from the open window of the Warden's breakfast-saloon,
+looking across the shoulder of the Lord Chancellor, who had sprung
+to his feet the moment the shouting began, almost as if he had been
+expecting it, and had rushed to the window which commanded the best view
+of the market-place.
+
+"What can it all mean?" he kept repeating to himself, as, with his hands
+clasped behind him, and his gown floating in the air, he paced rapidly
+up and down the room. "I never heard such shouting before--and at this
+time of the morning, too! And with such unanimity! Doesn't it strike you
+as very remarkable?"
+
+I represented, modestly, that to my ears it appeared that they were
+shouting for different things, but the Chancellor would not listen to my
+suggestion for a moment. "They all shout the same words, I assure you!"
+he said: then, leaning well out of the window, he whispered to a man who
+was standing close underneath, "Keep'em together, ca'n't you? The Warden
+will be here directly. Give'em the signal for the march up!" All this
+was evidently not meant for my ears, but I could scarcely help hearing
+it, considering that my chin was almost on the Chancellor's shoulder.
+
+The 'march up' was a very curious sight:
+
+{Image...The march-up}
+
+a straggling procession of men, marching two and two, began from the
+other side of the market-place, and advanced in an irregular zig-zag
+fashion towards the Palace, wildly tacking from side to side, like a
+sailing vessel making way against an unfavourable wind so that the head
+of the procession was often further from us at the end of one tack than
+it had been at the end of the previous one.
+
+Yet it was evident that all was being done under orders, for I noticed
+that all eyes were fixed on the man who stood just under the window, and
+to whom the Chancellor was continually whispering. This man held his hat
+in one hand and a little green flag in the other: whenever he waved the
+flag the procession advanced a little nearer, when he dipped it they
+sidled a little farther off, and whenever he waved his hat they all
+raised a hoarse cheer. "Hoo-roah!" they cried, carefully keeping time
+with the hat as it bobbed up and down. "Hoo-roah! Noo! Consti! Tooshun!
+Less! Bread! More! Taxes!"
+
+"That'll do, that'll do!" the Chancellor whispered. "Let 'em rest a bit
+till I give you the word. He's not here yet!" But at this moment the
+great folding-doors of the saloon were flung open, and he turned with a
+guilty start to receive His High Excellency. However it was only Bruno,
+and the Chancellor gave a little gasp of relieved anxiety.
+
+"Morning!" said the little fellow, addressing the remark, in a general
+sort of way, to the Chancellor and the waiters. "Doos oo know where
+Sylvie is? I's looking for Sylvie!"
+
+"She's with the Warden, I believe, y'reince!" the Chancellor replied
+with a low bow. There was, no doubt, a certain amount of absurdity in
+applying this title (which, as of course you see without my telling you,
+was nothing but 'your Royal Highness' condensed into one syllable) to
+a small creature whose father was merely the Warden of Outland: still,
+large excuse must be made for a man who had passed several years at the
+Court of Fairyland, and had there acquired the almost impossible art of
+pronouncing five syllables as one.
+
+But the bow was lost upon Bruno, who had run out of the room, even
+while the great feat of The Unpronounceable Monosyllable was being
+triumphantly performed.
+
+Just then, a single voice in the distance was understood to shout "A
+speech from the Chancellor!" "Certainly, my friends!" the Chancellor
+replied with extraordinary promptitude. "You shall have a speech!"
+Here one of the waiters, who had been for some minutes busy making a
+queer-looking mixture of egg and sherry, respectfully presented it on
+a large silver salver. The Chancellor took it haughtily, drank it off
+thoughtfully, smiled benevolently on the happy waiter as he set down the
+empty glass, and began. To the best of my recollection this is what he
+said.
+
+"Ahem! Ahem! Ahem! Fellow-sufferers, or rather suffering fellows--"
+("Don't call 'em names!" muttered the man under the window. "I didn't
+say felons!" the Chancellor explained.) "You may be sure that I always
+sympa--" ("'Ear, 'ear!" shouted the crowd, so loudly as quite to drown
+the orator's thin squeaky voice) "--that I always sympa--" he repeated.
+("Don't simper quite so much!" said the man under the window. "It makes
+yer look a hidiot!" And, all this time, "'Ear, 'ear!" went rumbling
+round the market-place, like a peal of thunder.) "That I always
+sympathise!" yelled the Chancellor, the first moment there was silence.
+"But your true friend is the Sub-Warden! Day and night he is brooding on
+your wrongs--I should say your rights--that is to say your wrongs--no,
+I mean your rights--" ("Don't talk no more!" growled the man under the
+window. "You're making a mess of it!") At this moment the Sub-Warden
+entered the saloon. He was a thin man, with a mean and crafty face,
+and a greenish-yellow complexion; and he crossed the room very slowly,
+looking suspiciously about him as if he thought there might be a savage
+dog hidden somewhere. "Bravo!" he cried, patting the Chancellor on the
+back. "You did that speech very well indeed. Why, you're a born orator,
+man!"
+
+"Oh, that's nothing!" the Chancellor replied, modestly, with downcast
+eyes. "Most orators are born, you know."
+
+The Sub-Warden thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Why, so they are!" he
+admitted. "I never considered it in that light. Still, you did it very
+well. A word in your ear!"
+
+The rest of their conversation was all in whispers: so, as I could hear
+no more, I thought I would go and find Bruno.
+
+I found the little fellow standing in the passage, and being addressed
+by one of the men in livery, who stood before him, nearly bent double
+from extreme respectfulness, with his hands hanging in front of him
+like the fins of a fish. "His High Excellency," this respectful man was
+saying, "is in his Study, y'reince!" (He didn't pronounce this quite so
+well as the Chancellor.) Thither Bruno trotted, and I thought it well to
+follow him.
+
+The Warden, a tall dignified man with a grave but very pleasant face,
+was seated before a writing-table, which was covered with papers, and
+holding on his knee one of the sweetest and loveliest little maidens it
+has ever been my lot to see. She looked four or five years older than
+Bruno, but she had the same rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, and the same
+wealth of curly brown hair. Her eager smiling face was turned upwards
+towards her father's, and it was a pretty sight to see the mutual love
+with which the two faces--one in the Spring of Life, the other in its
+late Autumn--were gazing on each other.
+
+"No, you've never seen him," the old man was saying: "you couldn't, you
+know, he's been away so long--traveling from land to land, and seeking
+for health, more years than you've been alive, little Sylvie!" Here
+Bruno climbed upon his other knee, and a good deal of kissing, on a
+rather complicated system, was the result.
+
+"He only came back last night," said the Warden, when the kissing was
+over: "he's been traveling post-haste, for the last thousand miles or
+so, in order to be here on Sylvie's birthday. But he's a very early
+riser, and I dare say he's in the Library already. Come with me and see
+him. He's always kind to children. You'll be sure to like him."
+
+"Has the Other Professor come too?" Bruno asked in an awe-struck voice.
+
+"Yes, they arrived together. The Other Professor is--well, you won't
+like him quite so much, perhaps. He's a little more dreamy, you know."
+
+"I wiss Sylvie was a little more dreamy," said Bruno.
+
+"What do you mean, Bruno?" said Sylvie.
+
+Bruno went on addressing his father. "She says she ca'n't, oo know. But
+I thinks it isn't ca'n't, it's wo'n't."
+
+"Says she ca'n't dream!" the puzzled Warden repeated.
+
+"She do say it," Bruno persisted. "When I says to her 'Let's stop
+lessons!', she says 'Oh, I ca'n't dream of letting oo stop yet!'"
+
+"He always wants to stop lessons," Sylvie explained, "five minutes after
+we begin!"
+
+"Five minutes' lessons a day!" said the Warden. "You won't learn much at
+that rate, little man!"
+
+"That's just what Sylvie says," Bruno rejoined. "She says I wo'n't learn
+my lessons. And I tells her, over and over, I ca'n't learn 'em. And what
+doos oo think she says? She says 'It isn't ca'n't, it's wo'n't!'"
+
+"Let's go and see the Professor," the Warden said, wisely avoiding
+further discussion. The children got down off his knees, each secured a
+hand, and the happy trio set off for the Library--followed by me. I had
+come to the conclusion by this time that none of the party (except, for
+a few moments, the Lord Chancellor) was in the least able to see me.
+
+"What's the matter with him?" Sylvie asked, walking with a little extra
+sedateness, by way of example to Bruno at the other side, who never
+ceased jumping up and down.
+
+{Image...Visiting the profesor}
+
+"What was the matter--but I hope he's all right now--was lumbago, and
+rheumatism, and that kind of thing. He's been curing himself, you
+know: he's a very learned doctor. Why, he's actually invented three new
+diseases, besides a new way of breaking your collar-bone!"
+
+"Is it a nice way?" said Bruno.
+
+"Well, hum, not very," the Warden said, as we entered the Library. "And
+here is the Professor. Good morning, Professor! Hope you're quite rested
+after your journey!"
+
+A jolly-looking, fat little man, in a flowery dressing-gown, with a
+large book under each arm, came trotting in at the other end of the
+room, and was going straight across without taking any notice of the
+children. "I'm looking for Vol. Three," he said. "Do you happen to have
+seen it?"
+
+"You don't see my children, Professor!" the Warden exclaimed, taking him
+by the shoulders and turning him round to face them.
+
+The Professor laughed violently: then he gazed at them through his great
+spectacles, for a minute or two, without speaking.
+
+At last he addressed Bruno. "I hope you have had a good night, my
+child?" Bruno looked puzzled. "I's had the same night oo've had," he
+replied. "There's only been one night since yesterday!"
+
+It was the Professor's turn to look puzzled now. He took off his
+spectacles, and rubbed them with his handkerchief. Then he gazed at them
+again. Then he turned to the Warden. "Are they bound?" he enquired.
+
+"No, we aren't," said Bruno, who thought himself quite able to answer
+this question.
+
+The Professor shook his head sadly. "Not even half-bound?"
+
+"Why would we be half-bound?" said Bruno.
+
+"We're not prisoners!"
+
+But the Professor had forgotten all about them by this time, and was
+speaking to the Warden again. "You'll be glad to hear," he was saying,
+"that the Barometer's beginning to move--"
+
+"Well, which way?" said the Warden--adding, to the children, "Not that
+I care, you know. Only he thinks it affects the weather. He's a
+wonderfully clever man, you know. Sometimes he says things that only the
+Other Professor can understand. Sometimes he says things that nobody can
+understand! Which way is it, Professor? Up or down?"
+
+"Neither!" said the Professor, gently clapping his hands. "It's going
+sideways--if I may so express myself."
+
+"And what kind of weather does that produce?" said the Warden. "Listen,
+children! Now you'll hear something worth knowing!"
+
+"Horizontal weather," said the Professor, and made straight for the
+door, very nearly trampling on Bruno, who had only just time to get out
+of his way.
+
+"Isn't he learned?" the Warden said, looking after him with admiring
+eyes. "Positively he runs over with learning!"
+
+"But he needn't run over me!" said Bruno.
+
+The Professor was back in a moment: he had changed his dressing-gown for
+a frock-coat, and had put on a pair of very strange-looking boots, the
+tops of which were open umbrellas. "I thought you'd like to see them,"
+he said. "These are the boots for horizontal weather!"
+
+{Image...Boots for horizontal weather}
+
+"But what's the use of wearing umbrellas round one's knees?"
+
+"In ordinary rain," the Professor admitted, "they would not be of
+much use. But if ever it rained horizontally, you know, they would be
+invaluable--simply invaluable!"
+
+"Take the Professor to the breakfast-saloon, children," said the Warden.
+"And tell them not to wait for me. I had breakfast early, as I've some
+business to attend to." The children seized the Professor's hands, as
+familiarly as if they had known him for years, and hurried him away. I
+followed respectfully behind.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 2. L'AMIE INCONNUE.
+
+As we entered the breakfast-saloon, the Professor was saying "--and he
+had breakfast by himself, early: so he begged you wouldn't wait for him,
+my Lady. This way, my Lady," he added, "this way!" And then, with (as it
+seemed to me) most superfluous politeness, he flung open the door of my
+compartment, and ushered in "--a young and lovely lady!" I muttered to
+myself with some bitterness. "And this is, of course, the opening
+scene of Vol. I. She is the Heroine. And I am one of those subordinate
+characters that only turn up when needed for the development of her
+destiny, and whose final appearance is outside the church, waiting to
+greet the Happy Pair!"
+
+"Yes, my Lady, change at Fayfield," were the next words I heard (oh that
+too obsequious Guard!), "next station but one." And the door closed, and
+the lady settled down into her corner, and the monotonous throb of the
+engine (making one feel as if the train were some gigantic monster,
+whose very circulation we could feel) proclaimed that we were once more
+speeding on our way. "The lady had a perfectly formed nose," I caught
+myself saying to myself, "hazel eyes, and lips--" and here it occurred
+to me that to see, for myself, what "the lady" was really like, would be
+more satisfactory than much speculation.
+
+I looked round cautiously, and--was entirely disappointed of my hope.
+The veil, which shrouded her whole face, was too thick for me to see
+more than the glitter of bright eyes and the hazy outline of what might
+be a lovely oval face, but might also, unfortunately, be an equally
+unlovely one. I closed my eyes again, saying to myself "--couldn't have
+a better chance for an experiment in Telepathy! I'll think out her face,
+and afterwards test the portrait with the original."
+
+At first, no result at all crowned my efforts, though I 'divided my
+swift mind,' now hither, now thither, in a way that I felt sure would
+have made AEneas green with envy: but the dimly-seen oval remained as
+provokingly blank as ever--a mere Ellipse, as if in some mathematical
+diagram, without even the Foci that might be made to do duty as a nose
+and a mouth. Gradually, however, the conviction came upon me that I
+could, by a certain concentration of thought, think the veil away, and
+so get a glimpse of the mysterious face--as to which the two questions,
+"is she pretty?" and "is she plain?", still hung suspended, in my mind,
+in beautiful equipoise.
+
+Success was partial--and fitful--still there was a result: ever and
+anon, the veil seemed to vanish, in a sudden flash of light: but,
+before I could fully realise the face, all was dark again. In each such
+glimpse, the face seemed to grow more childish and more innocent:
+and, when I had at last thought the veil entirely away, it was,
+unmistakeably, the sweet face of little Sylvie!
+
+"So, either I've been dreaming about Sylvie," I said to myself, "and
+this is the reality. Or else I've really been with Sylvie, and this is a
+dream! Is Life itself a dream, I wonder?"
+
+To occupy the time, I got out the letter, which had caused me to take
+this sudden railway-journey from my London home down to a strange
+fishing-town on the North coast, and read it over again:--
+
+
+    "DEAR OLD FRIEND,
+
+    "I'm sure it will be as great a pleasure to me, as it can possibly
+    be to you, to meet once more after so many years: and of course I
+    shall be ready to give you all the benefit of such medical skill as
+    I have: only, you know, one mustn't violate professional etiquette!
+    And you are already in the hands of a first-rate London doctor,
+    with whom it would be utter affectation for me to pretend to compete.
+    (I make no doubt he is right in saying the heart is affected:
+    all your symptoms point that way.) One thing, at any rate, I have
+    already done in my doctorial capacity--secured you a bedroom on the
+    ground-floor, so that you will not need to ascend the stairs at all.
+
+    "I shalt expect you by last train on Friday, in accordance with your
+    letter: and, till then, I shalt say, in the words of the old song,
+    'Oh for Friday nicht!  Friday's lang a-coming!'
+
+    "Yours always,
+
+    "ARTHUR FORESTER.
+
+    "P.S.  Do you believe in Fate?"
+
+This Postscript puzzled me sorely. "He is far too sensible a man," I
+thought, "to have become a Fatalist. And yet what else can he mean by
+it?" And, as I folded up the letter and put it away, I inadvertently
+repeated the words aloud. "Do you believe in Fate?"
+
+The fair 'Incognita' turned her head quickly at the sudden question.
+"No, I don't!" she said with a smile. "Do you?"
+
+"I--I didn't mean to ask the question!" I stammered, a little taken
+aback at having begun a conversation in so unconventional a fashion.
+
+The lady's smile became a laugh--not a mocking laugh, but the laugh of a
+happy child who is perfectly at her ease. "Didn't you?" she said. "Then
+it was a case of what you Doctors call 'unconscious cerebration'?"
+
+"I am no Doctor," I replied. "Do I look so like one? Or what makes you
+think it?"
+
+She pointed to the book I had been reading, which was so lying that its
+title, "Diseases of the Heart," was plainly visible.
+
+"One needn't be a Doctor," I said, "to take an interest in medical
+books. There's another class of readers, who are yet more deeply
+interested--"
+
+"You mean the Patients?" she interrupted, while a look of tender pity
+gave new sweetness to her face. "But," with an evident wish to avoid a
+possibly painful topic, "one needn't be either, to take an interest in
+books of Science. Which contain the greatest amount of Science, do you
+think, the books, or the minds?"
+
+"Rather a profound question for a lady!" I said to myself, holding, with
+the conceit so natural to Man, that Woman's intellect is essentially
+shallow. And I considered a minute before replying. "If you mean living
+minds, I don't think it's possible to decide. There is so much written
+Science that no living person has ever read: and there is so much
+thought-out Science that hasn't yet been written. But, if you mean the
+whole human race, then I think the minds have it: everything, recorded
+in books, must have once been in some mind, you know."
+
+"Isn't that rather like one of the Rules in Algebra?" my Lady enquired.
+("Algebra too!" I thought with increasing wonder.) "I mean, if we
+consider thoughts as factors, may we not say that the Least Common
+Multiple of all the minds contains that of all the books; but not the
+other way?"
+
+"Certainly we may!" I replied, delighted with the illustration. "And
+what a grand thing it would be," I went on dreamily, thinking aloud
+rather than talking, "if we could only apply that Rule to books! You
+know, in finding the Least Common Multiple, we strike out a quantity
+wherever it occurs, except in the term where it is raised to its highest
+power. So we should have to erase every recorded thought, except in the
+sentence where it is expressed with the greatest intensity."
+
+My Lady laughed merrily. "Some books would be reduced to blank paper,
+I'm afraid!" she said.
+
+"They would. Most libraries would be terribly diminished in bulk. But
+just think what they would gain in quality!"
+
+"When will it be done?" she eagerly asked. "If there's any chance of it
+in my time, I think I'll leave off reading, and wait for it!"
+
+"Well, perhaps in another thousand years or so--"
+
+"Then there's no use waiting!", said my Lady. "Let's sit down. Uggug, my
+pet, come and sit by me!"
+
+"Anywhere but by me!" growled the Sub-warden. "The little wretch always
+manages to upset his coffee!"
+
+I guessed at once (as perhaps the reader will also have guessed, if,
+like myself, he is very clever at drawing conclusions) that my Lady was
+the Sub-Warden's wife, and that Uggug (a hideous fat boy, about the same
+age as Sylvie, with the expression of a prize-pig) was their son. Sylvie
+and Bruno, with the Lord Chancellor, made up a party of seven.
+
+{Image...A portable plunge-bath}
+
+"And you actually got a plunge-bath every morning?" said the Sub-Warden,
+seemingly in continuation of a conversation with the Professor. "Even at
+the little roadside-inns?"
+
+"Oh, certainly, certainly!" the Professor replied with a smile on his
+jolly face. "Allow me to explain. It is, in fact, a very simple problem
+in Hydrodynamics. (That means a combination of Water and Strength.)
+If we take a plunge-bath, and a man of great strength (such as myself)
+about to plunge into it, we have a perfect example of this science. I
+am bound to admit," the Professor continued, in a lower tone and with
+downcast eyes, "that we need a man of remarkable strength. He must be
+able to spring from the floor to about twice his own height, gradually
+turning over as he rises, so as to come down again head first."
+
+"Why, you need a flea, not a man!" exclaimed the Sub-Warden.
+
+"Pardon me," said the Professor. "This particular kind of bath is
+not adapted for a flea. Let us suppose," he continued, folding his
+table-napkin into a graceful festoon, "that this represents what is
+perhaps the necessity of this Age--the Active Tourist's Portable Bath.
+You may describe it briefly, if you like," looking at the Chancellor,
+"by the letters A.T.P.B."
+
+The Chancellor, much disconcerted at finding everybody looking at him,
+could only murmur, in a shy whisper, "Precisely so!"
+
+"One great advantage of this plunge-bath," continued the Professor, "is
+that it requires only half-a-gallon of water--"
+
+"I don't call it a plunge-bath," His Sub-Excellency remarked, "unless
+your Active Tourist goes right under!"
+
+"But he does go right under," the old man gently replied. "The A.T.
+hangs up the P. B. on a nail--thus. He then empties the water-jug into
+it--places the empty jug below the bag--leaps into the air--descends
+head-first into the bag--the water rises round him to the top of the
+bag--and there you are!" he triumphantly concluded. "The A.T. is as much
+under water as if he'd gone a mile or two down into the Atlantic!"
+
+"And he's drowned, let us say, in about four minutes--"
+
+"By no means!" the Professor answered with a proud smile. "After about
+a minute, he quietly turns a tap at the lower end of the P. B.--all the
+water runs back into the jug and there you are again!"
+
+"But how in the world is he to get out of the bag again?"
+
+"That, I take it," said the Professor, "is the most beautiful part of
+the whole invention. All the way up the P.B., inside, are loops for
+the thumbs; so it's something like going up-stairs, only perhaps less
+comfortable; and, by the time the A. T. has risen out of the bag, all
+but his head, he's sure to topple over, one way or the other--the Law of
+Gravity secures that. And there he is on the floor again!"
+
+"A little bruised, perhaps?"
+
+"Well, yes, a little bruised; but having had his plunge-bath: that's the
+great thing."
+
+"Wonderful! It's almost beyond belief!" murmured the Sub-Warden. The
+Professor took it as a compliment, and bowed with a gratified smile.
+
+"Quite beyond belief!" my Lady added--meaning, no doubt, to be more
+complimentary still. The Professor bowed, but he didn't smile this time.
+"I can assure you," he said earnestly, "that, provided the bath was
+made, I used it every morning. I certainly ordered it--that I am clear
+about--my only doubt is, whether the man ever finished making it. It's
+difficult to remember, after so many years--"
+
+At this moment the door, very slowly and creakingly, began to open, and
+Sylvie and Bruno jumped up, and ran to meet the well-known footstep.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 3. BIRTHDAY-PRESENTS.
+
+"It's my brother!" the Sub-warden exclaimed, in a warning whisper.
+"Speak out, and be quick about it!"
+
+The appeal was evidently addressed to the Lord Chancellor, who instantly
+replied, in a shrill monotone, like a little boy repeating the alphabet,
+"As I was remarking, your Sub-Excellency, this portentous movement--"
+
+"You began too soon!" the other interrupted, scarcely able to restrain
+himself to a whisper, so great was his excitement. "He couldn't have
+heard you. Begin again!" "As I was remarking," chanted the obedient Lord
+Chancellor, "this portentous movement has already assumed the dimensions
+of a Revolution!"
+
+"And what are the dimensions of a Revolution?" The voice was genial and
+mellow, and the face of the tall dignified old man, who had just entered
+the room, leading Sylvie by the hand, and with Bruno riding triumphantly
+on his shoulder, was too noble and gentle to have scared a less guilty
+man: but the Lord Chancellor turned pale instantly, and could hardly
+articulate the words "The dimensions your--your High Excellency?
+I--I--scarcely comprehend!"
+
+"Well, the length, breadth, and thickness, if you like it better!" And
+the old man smiled, half-contemptuously.
+
+The Lord Chancellor recovered himself with a great effort, and pointed
+to the open window. "If your High Excellency will listen for a moment
+to the shouts of the exasperated populace--" ("of the exasperated
+populace!" the Sub-Warden repeated in a louder tone, as the Lord
+Chancellor, being in a state of abject terror, had dropped almost into a
+whisper) "--you will understand what it is they want."
+
+And at that moment there surged into the room a hoarse confused cry, in
+which the only clearly audible words were "Less--bread--More--taxes!"
+The old man laughed heartily. "What in the world--" he was beginning:
+but the Chancellor heard him not. "Some mistake!" he muttered, hurrying
+to the window, from which he shortly returned with an air of relief.
+"Now listen!" he exclaimed, holding up his hand impressively. And now
+the words came quite distinctly, and with the regularity of the ticking
+of a clock, "More--bread--Less taxes!'"
+
+"More bread!" the Warden repeated in astonishment. "Why, the new
+Government Bakery was opened only last week, and I gave orders to sell
+the bread at cost-price during the present scarcity! What can they
+expect more?"
+
+"The Bakery's closed, y'reince!" the Chancellor said, more loudly and
+clearly than he had spoken yet. He was emboldened by the consciousness
+that here, at least, he had evidence to produce: and he placed in the
+Warden's hands a few printed notices, that were lying ready, with some
+open ledgers, on a side-table.
+
+"Yes, yes, I see!" the Warden muttered, glancing carelessly through
+them. "Order countermanded by my brother, and supposed to be my doing!
+Rather sharp practice! It's all right!" he added in a louder tone. "My
+name is signed to it: so I take it on myself. But what do they mean by
+'Less Taxes'? How can they be less? I abolished the last of them a month
+ago!"
+
+"It's been put on again, y'reince, and by y'reince's own orders!", and
+other printed notices were submitted for inspection.
+
+The Warden, whilst looking them over, glanced once or twice at the
+Sub-Warden, who had seated himself before one of the open ledgers, and
+was quite absorbed in adding it up; but he merely repeated "It's all
+right. I accept it as my doing."
+
+"And they do say," the Chancellor went on sheepishly--looking much
+more like a convicted thief than an Officer of State, "that a change
+of Government, by the abolition of the Sub-Warden---I mean," he hastily
+added, on seeing the Warden's look of astonishment, "the abolition of
+the office of Sub-Warden, and giving the present holder the right to
+act as Vice-Warden whenever the Warden is absent--would appease all this
+seedling discontent I mean," he added, glancing at a paper he held in
+his hand, "all this seething discontent!"
+
+"For fifteen years," put in a deep but very harsh voice, "my husband has
+been acting as Sub-Warden. It is too long! It is much too long!" My Lady
+was a vast creature at all times: but, when she frowned and folded her
+arms, as now, she looked more gigantic than ever, and made one try to
+fancy what a haystack would look like, if out of temper.
+
+"He would distinguish himself as a Vice!" my Lady proceeded, being far
+too stupid to see the double meaning of her words. "There has been no
+such Vice in Outland for many a long year, as he would be!"
+
+"What course would you suggest, Sister?" the Warden mildly enquired.
+
+My Lady stamped, which was undignified: and snorted, which was
+ungraceful. "This is no jesting matter!" she bellowed.
+
+"I will consult my brother," said the Warden. "Brother!"
+
+"--and seven makes a hundred and ninety-four, which is sixteen and
+two-pence," the Sub-Warden replied. "Put down two and carry sixteen."
+
+The Chancellor raised his hands and eyebrows, lost in admiration. "Such
+a man of business!" he murmured.
+
+"Brother, could I have a word with you in my Study?" the Warden said in
+a louder tone. The Sub-Warden rose with alacrity, and the two left the
+room together.
+
+My Lady turned to the Professor, who had uncovered the urn, and was
+taking its temperature with his pocket-thermometer. "Professor!" she
+began, so loudly and suddenly that even Uggug, who had gone to sleep in
+his chair, left off snoring and opened one eye. The Professor pocketed
+his thermometer in a moment, clasped his hands, and put his head on one
+side with a meek smile.
+
+"You were teaching my son before breakfast, I believe?" my Lady loftily
+remarked. "I hope he strikes you as having talent?"
+
+"Oh, very much so indeed, my Lady!" the Professor hastily replied,
+unconsciously rubbing his ear, while some painful recollection seemed
+to cross his mind. "I was very forcibly struck by His Magnificence, I
+assure you!"
+
+"He is a charming boy!" my Lady exclaimed. "Even his snores are more
+musical than those of other boys!"
+
+If that were so, the Professor seemed to think, the snores of other boys
+must be something too awful to be endured: but he was a cautious man,
+and he said nothing.
+
+"And he's so clever!" my Lady continued. "No one will enjoy your Lecture
+more by the way, have you fixed the time for it yet? You've never given
+one, you know: and it was promised years ago, before you--
+
+"Yes, yes, my Lady, I know! Perhaps next Tuesday or Tuesday week--"
+
+"That will do very well," said my Lady, graciously. "Of course you will
+let the Other Professor lecture as well?"
+
+"I think not, my Lady?" the Professor said with some hesitation. "You
+see, he always stands with his back to the audience. It does very well
+for reciting; but for lecturing--"
+
+"You are quite right," said my Lady. "And, now I come to think of it,
+there would hardly be time for more than one Lecture. And it will go off
+all the better, if we begin with a Banquet, and a Fancy-dress Ball--"
+
+"It will indeed!" the Professor cried, with enthusiasm.
+
+"I shall come as a Grass-hopper," my Lady calmly proceeded. "What shall
+you come as, Professor?"
+
+The Professor smiled feebly. "I shall come as--as early as I can, my
+Lady!"
+
+"You mustn't come in before the doors are opened," said my Lady.
+
+"I ca'n't," said the Professor. "Excuse me a moment. As this is Lady
+Sylvie's birthday, I would like to--" and he rushed away.
+
+Bruno began feeling in his pockets, looking more and more melancholy
+as he did so: then he put his thumb in his mouth, and considered for a
+minute: then he quietly left the room.
+
+He had hardly done so before the Professor was back again, quite out of
+breath. "Wishing you many happy returns of the day, my dear child!" he
+went on, addressing the smiling little girl, who had run to meet him.
+"Allow me to give you a birthday-present. It's a second-hand pincushion,
+my dear. And it only cost fourpence-halfpenny!"
+
+"Thank you, it's very pretty!" And Sylvie rewarded the old man with a
+hearty kiss.
+
+"And the pins they gave me for nothing!" the Professor added in high
+glee. "Fifteen of 'em, and only one bent!"
+
+"I'll make the bent one into a hook!" said Sylvie. "To catch Bruno with,
+when he runs away from his lessons!"
+
+"You ca'n't guess what my present is!" said Uggug, who had taken the
+butter-dish from the table, and was standing behind her, with a wicked
+leer on his face.
+
+"No, I ca'n't guess," Sylvie said without looking up. She was still
+examining the Professor's pincushion.
+
+"It's this!" cried the bad boy, exultingly, as he emptied the dish over
+her, and then, with a grin of delight at his own cleverness, looked
+round for applause.
+
+Sylvie coloured crimson, as she shook off the butter from her frock: but
+she kept her lips tight shut, and walked away to the window, where she
+stood looking out and trying to recover her temper.
+
+Uggug's triumph was a very short one: the Sub-Warden had returned, just
+in time to be a witness of his dear child's playfulness, and in another
+moment a skilfully-applied box on the ear had changed the grin of
+delight into a howl of pain.
+
+"My darling!" cried his mother, enfolding him in her fat arms. "Did they
+box his ears for nothing? A precious pet!"
+
+"It's not for nothing!" growled the angry father. "Are you aware, Madam,
+that I pay the house-bills, out of a fixed annual sum? The loss of all
+that wasted butter falls on me! Do you hear, Madam!"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Sir!" My Lady spoke very quietly--almost in a
+whisper. But there was something in her look which silenced him. "Don't
+you see it was only a joke? And a very clever one, too! He only meant
+that he loved nobody but her! And, instead of being pleased with the
+compliment, the spiteful little thing has gone away in a huff!"
+
+The Sub-Warden was a very good hand at changing a subject. He walked
+across to the window. "My dear," he said, "is that a pig that I see down
+below, rooting about among your flower-beds?"
+
+"A pig!" shrieked my Lady, rushing madly to the window, and almost
+pushing her husband out, in her anxiety to see for herself. "Whose pig
+is it? How did it get in? Where's that crazy Gardener gone?"
+
+At this moment Bruno re-entered the room, and passing Uggug (who was
+blubbering his loudest, in the hope of attracting notice) as if he was
+quite used to that sort of thing, he ran up to Sylvie and threw his arms
+round her. "I went to my toy-cupboard," he said with a very sorrowful
+face, "to see if there were somefin fit for a present for oo! And there
+isn't nuffin! They's all broken, every one! And I haven't got no money
+left, to buy oo a birthday-present! And I ca'n't give oo nuffin but
+this!" ("This" was a very earnest hug and a kiss.)
+
+"Oh, thank you, darling!" cried Sylvie. "I like your present best of
+all!" (But if so, why did she give it back so quickly?)
+
+His Sub-Excellency turned and patted the two children on the head with
+his long lean hands. "Go away, dears!" he said. "There's business to
+talk over."
+
+Sylvie and Bruno went away hand in hand: but, on reaching the door,
+Sylvie came back again and went up to Uggug timidly. "I don't mind about
+the butter," she said, "and I--I'm sorry he hurt you!" And she tried to
+shake hands with the little ruffian: but Uggug only blubbered louder,
+and wouldn't make friends. Sylvie left the room with a sigh.
+
+The Sub-Warden glared angrily at his weeping son. "Leave the room,
+Sirrah!" he said, as loud as he dared. His wife was still leaning out of
+the window, and kept repeating "I ca'n't see that pig! Where is it?"
+
+"It's moved to the right now it's gone a little to the left," said the
+Sub-Warden: but he had his back to the window, and was making signals to
+the Lord Chancellor, pointing to Uggug and the door, with many a cunning
+nod and wink.
+
+{Image...Removal of Uggug}
+
+The Chancellor caught his meaning at last, and, crossing the room, took
+that interesting child by the ear the next moment he and Uggug were out
+of the room, and the door shut behind them: but not before one piercing
+yell had rung through the room, and reached the ears of the fond mother.
+
+"What is that hideous noise?" she fiercely asked, turning upon her
+startled husband.
+
+"It's some hyaena--or other," replied the Sub-Warden, looking vaguely up
+to the ceiling, as if that was where they usually were to be found. "Let
+us to business, my dear. Here comes the Warden." And he picked up from
+the floor a wandering scrap of manuscript, on which I just caught the
+words 'after which Election duly holden the said Sibimet and Tabikat
+his wife may at their pleasure assume Imperial--' before, with a guilty
+look, he crumpled it up in his hand.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 4. A CUNNING CONSPIRACY.
+
+The Warden entered at this moment: and close behind him came the Lord
+Chancellor, a little flushed and out of breath, and adjusting his wig,
+which appeared to have been dragged partly off his head.
+
+"But where is my precious child?" my Lady enquired, as the four took
+their seats at the small side-table devoted to ledgers and bundles and
+bills.
+
+"He left the room a few minutes ago with the Lord Chancellor," the
+Sub-Warden briefly explained.
+
+"Ah!" said my Lady, graciously smiling on that high official. "Your
+Lordship has a very taking way with children! I doubt if any one could
+gain the ear of my darling Uggug so quickly as you can!" For an entirely
+stupid woman, my Lady's remarks were curiously full of meaning, of which
+she herself was wholly unconscious.
+
+The Chancellor bowed, but with a very uneasy air. "I think the Warden
+was about to speak," he remarked, evidently anxious to change the
+subject.
+
+But my Lady would not be checked. "He is a clever boy," she continued
+with enthusiasm, "but he needs a man like your Lordship to draw him
+out!"
+
+The Chancellor bit his lip, and was silent. He evidently feared that,
+stupid as she looked, she understood what she said this time, and was
+having a joke at his expense. He might have spared himself all anxiety:
+whatever accidental meaning her words might have, she herself never
+meant anything at all.
+
+"It is all settled!" the Warden announced, wasting no time over
+preliminaries. "The Sub-Wardenship is abolished, and my brother is
+appointed to act as Vice-Warden whenever I am absent. So, as I am going
+abroad for a while, he will enter on his new duties at once."
+
+"And there will really be a Vice after all?" my Lady enquired.
+
+"I hope so!" the Warden smilingly replied.
+
+My Lady looked much pleased, and tried to clap her hands: but you might
+as well have knocked two feather-beds together, for any noise it made.
+"When my husband is Vice," she said, "it will be the same as if we had a
+hundred Vices!"
+
+"Hear, hear!" cried the Sub-Warden.
+
+"You seem to think it very remarkable," my Lady remarked with some
+severity, "that your wife should speak the truth!"
+
+"No, not remarkable at all!" her husband anxiously explained. "Nothing
+is remarkable that you say, sweet one!"
+
+My Lady smiled approval of the sentiment, and went on. "And am I
+Vice-Wardeness?"
+
+"If you choose to use that title," said the Warden: "but 'Your
+Excellency' will be the proper style of address. And I trust that both
+'His Excellency' and 'Her Excellency' will observe the Agreement I have
+drawn up. The provision I am most anxious about is this." He unrolled a
+large parchment scroll, and read aloud the words "'item, that we will be
+kind to the poor.' The Chancellor worded it for me," he added, glancing
+at that great Functionary. "I suppose, now, that word 'item' has some
+deep legal meaning?"
+
+"Undoubtedly!" replied the Chancellor, as articulately as he could with
+a pen between his lips. He was nervously rolling and unrolling several
+other scrolls, and making room among them for the one the Warden had
+just handed to him. "These are merely the rough copies," he explained:
+"and, as soon as I have put in the final corrections--" making a great
+commotion among the different parchments, "--a semi-colon or two that I
+have accidentally omitted--" here he darted about, pen in hand, from one
+part of the scroll to another, spreading sheets of blotting-paper over
+his corrections, "all will be ready for signing."
+
+"Should it not be read out, first?" my Lady enquired.
+
+"No need, no need!" the Sub-Warden and the Chancellor exclaimed at the
+same moment, with feverish eagerness.
+
+"No need at all," the Warden gently assented. "Your husband and I have
+gone through it together. It provides that he shall exercise the full
+authority of Warden, and shall have the disposal of the annual revenue
+attached to the office, until my return, or, failing that, until Bruno
+comes of age: and that he shall then hand over, to myself or to Bruno as
+the case may be, the Wardenship, the unspent revenue, and the
+contents of the Treasury, which are to be preserved, intact, under his
+guardianship."
+
+All this time the Sub-Warden was busy, with the Chancellor's help,
+shifting the papers from side to side, and pointing out to the Warden
+the place whew he was to sign. He then signed it himself, and my Lady
+and the Chancellor added their names as witnesses.
+
+"Short partings are best," said the Warden. "All is ready for my
+journey. My children are waiting below to see me off" He gravely kissed
+my Lady, shook hands with his brother and the Chancellor, and left the
+room.
+
+{Image...'What a game!'}
+
+The three waited in silence till the sound of wheels announced that the
+Warden was out of hearing: then, to my surprise, they broke into peals
+of uncontrollable laughter.
+
+"What a game, oh, what a game!" cried the Chancellor. And he and the
+Vice-Warden joined hands, and skipped wildly about the room. My Lady was
+too dignified to skip, but she laughed like the neighing of a horse, and
+waved her handkerchief above her head: it was clear to her very limited
+understanding that something very clever had been done, but what it was
+she had yet to learn.
+
+"You said I should hear all about it when the Warden had gone," she
+remarked, as soon as she could make herself heard.
+
+"And so you shall, Tabby!" her husband graciously replied, as he removed
+the blotting-paper, and showed the two parchments lying side by side.
+"This is the one he read but didn't sign: and this is the one he signed
+but didn't read! You see it was all covered up, except the place for
+signing the names--"
+
+"Yes, yes!" my Lady interrupted eagerly, and began comparing the two
+Agreements.
+
+"'Item, that he shall exercise the authority of Warden, in the Warden's
+absence.' Why, that's been changed into 'shall be absolute governor
+for life, with the title of Emperor, if elected to that office by the
+people.' What! Are you Emperor, darling?"
+
+"Not yet, dear," the Vice-Warden replied. "It won't do to let this paper
+be seen, just at present. All in good time."
+
+My Lady nodded, and read on. "'Item, that we will be kind to the poor.'
+Why, that's omitted altogether!"
+
+"Course it is!" said her husband. "We're not going to bother about the
+wretches!"
+
+"Good," said my Lady, with emphasis, and read on again. "'Item, that the
+contents of the Treasury be preserved intact.' Why, that's altered into
+'shall be at the absolute disposal of the Vice-Warden'! Well, Sibby,
+that was a clever trick! All the Jewels, only think! May I go and put
+them on directly?"
+
+"Well, not just yet, Lovey," her husband uneasily replied. "You see the
+public mind isn't quite ripe for it yet. We must feel our way. Of course
+we'll have the coach-and-four out, at once. And I'll take the title of
+Emperor, as soon as we can safely hold an Election. But they'll hardly
+stand our using the Jewels, as long as they know the Warden's alive. We
+must spread a report of his death. A little Conspiracy--"
+
+"A Conspiracy!" cried the delighted lady, clapping her hands. "Of all
+things, I do like a Conspiracy! It's so interesting!"
+
+The Vice-Warden and the Chancellor interchanged a wink or two. "Let
+her conspire to her heart's content!" the cunning Chancellor whispered.
+"It'll do no harm!"
+
+"And when will the Conspiracy--"
+
+"Hist!', her husband hastily interrupted her, as the door opened, and
+Sylvie and Bruno came in, with their arms twined lovingly round each
+other--Bruno sobbing convulsively, with his face hidden on his sister's
+shoulder, and Sylvie more grave and quiet, but with tears streaming down
+her cheeks.
+
+"Mustn't cry like that!" the Vice-Warden said sharply, but without any
+effect on the weeping children. "Cheer 'em up a bit!" he hinted to my
+Lady.
+
+"Cake!" my Lady muttered to herself with great decision, crossing the
+room and opening a cupboard, from which she presently returned with two
+slices of plum-cake. "Eat, and don't cry!" were her short and simple
+orders: and the poor children sat down side by side, but seemed in no
+mood for eating.
+
+For the second time the door opened--or rather was burst open, this
+time, as Uggug rushed violently into the room, shouting "that old
+Beggars come again!"
+
+"He's not to have any food--" the Vice-warden was beginning, but the
+Chancellor interrupted him. "It's all right," he said, in a low voice:
+"the servants have their orders."
+
+"He's just under here," said Uggug, who had gone to the window, and was
+looking down into the court-yard.
+
+"Where, my darling?" said his fond mother, flinging her arms round the
+neck of the little monster. All of us (except Sylvie and Bruno, who
+took no notice of what was going on) followed her to the window. The old
+Beggar looked up at us with hungry eyes. "Only a crust of bread, your
+Highness!" he pleaded.
+
+{Image...'Drink this!'}
+
+He was a fine old man, but looked sadly ill and worn. "A crust of bread
+is what I crave!" he repeated. "A single crust, and a little water!"
+
+"Here's some water, drink this!"
+
+Uggug bellowed, emptying a jug of water over his head.
+
+"Well done, my boy!" cried the Vice-Warden.
+
+"That's the way to settle such folk!"
+
+"Clever boy!", the Wardeness chimed in. "Hasn't he good spirits?"
+
+"Take a stick to him!" shouted the Vice-Warden, as the old Beggar shook
+the water from his ragged cloak, and again gazed meekly upwards.
+
+"Take a red-hot poker to him!" my Lady again chimed in.
+
+Possibly there was no red-hot poker handy: but some sticks were
+forthcoming in a moment, and threatening faces surrounded the poor old
+wanderer, who waved them back with quiet dignity. "No need to break my
+old bones," he said. "I am going. Not even a crust!"
+
+"Poor, poor old man!" exclaimed a little voice at my side, half choked
+with sobs. Bruno was at the window, trying to throw out his slice of
+plum-cake, but Sylvie held him back.
+
+"He shalt have my cake!" Bruno cried, passionately struggling out of
+Sylvie's arms.
+
+"Yes, yes, darling!" Sylvie gently pleaded. "But don't throw it out!
+He's gone away, don't you see? Let's go after him." And she led him
+out of the room, unnoticed by the rest of the party, who were wholly
+absorbed in watching the old Beggar.
+
+The Conspirators returned to their seats, and continued their
+conversation in an undertone, so as not to be heard by Uggug, who was
+still standing at the window.
+
+"By the way, there was something about Bruno succeeding to the
+Wrardenship," said my Lady. "How does that stand in the new Agreement?"
+
+The Chancellor chuckled. "Just the same, word for word," he said, "with
+one exception, my Lady. Instead of 'Bruno,' I've taken the liberty to
+put in--" he dropped his voice to a whisper, "to put in 'Uggug,' you
+know!"
+
+"Uggug, indeed!" I exclaimed, in a burst of indignation I could no
+longer control. To bring out even that one word seemed a gigantic
+effort: but, the cry once uttered, all effort ceased at once: a sudden
+gust swept away the whole scene, and I found myself sitting up, staring
+at the young lady in the opposite corner of the carriage, who had now
+thrown back her veil, and was looking at me with an expression of amused
+surprise.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 5. A BEGGAR'S PALACE.
+
+That I had said something, in the act of waking, I felt sure: the hoarse
+stifled cry was still ringing in my ears, even if the startled look
+of my fellow-traveler had not been evidence enough: but what could I
+possibly say by way of apology?
+
+"I hope I didn't frighten you?" I stammered out at last. "I have no idea
+what I said. I was dreaming."
+
+"You said 'Uggug indeed!'" the young lady replied, with quivering lips
+that would curve themselves into a smile, in spite of all her efforts to
+look grave. "At least--you didn't say it--you shouted it!"
+
+"I'm very sorry," was all I could say, feeling very penitent and
+helpless. "She has Sylvie's eyes!" I thought to myself, half-doubting
+whether, even now, I were fairly awake. "And that sweet look of innocent
+wonder is all Sylvie's too. But Sylvie hasn't got that calm resolute
+mouth nor that far-away look of dreamy sadness, like one that has had
+some deep sorrow, very long ago--" And the thick-coming fancies almost
+prevented my hearing the lady's next words.
+
+"If you had had a 'Shilling Dreadful' in your hand," she proceeded,
+"something about Ghosts or Dynamite or Midnight Murder--one could
+understand it: those things aren't worth the shilling, unless they give
+one a Nightmare. But really--with only a medical treatise, you know--"
+and she glanced, with a pretty shrug of contempt, at the book over which
+I had fallen asleep.
+
+Her friendliness, and utter unreserve, took me aback for a moment; yet
+there was no touch of forwardness, or boldness, about the child
+for child, almost, she seemed to be: I guessed her at scarcely over
+twenty--all was the innocent frankness of some angelic visitant, new
+to the ways of earth and the conventionalisms or, if you will, the
+barbarisms--of Society. "Even so," I mused, "will Sylvie look and speak,
+in another ten years."
+
+"You don't care for Ghosts, then," I ventured to suggest, "unless they
+are really terrifying?"
+
+"Quite so," the lady assented. "The regular Railway-Ghosts--I mean the
+Ghosts of ordinary Railway-literature--are very poor affairs. I feel
+inclined to say, with Alexander Selkirk, 'Their tameness is shocking to
+me'! And they never do any Midnight Murders. They couldn't 'welter in
+gore,' to save their lives!"
+
+"'Weltering in gore' is a very expressive phrase, certainly. Can it be
+done in any fluid, I wonder?"
+
+"I think not," the lady readily replied--quite as if she had thought it
+out, long ago. "It has to be something thick. For instance, you might
+welter in bread-sauce. That, being white, would be more suitable for a
+Ghost, supposing it wished to welter!"
+
+"You have a real good terrifying Ghost in that book?" I hinted.
+
+"How could you guess?" she exclaimed with the most engaging frankness,
+and placed the volume in my hands. I opened it eagerly, with a not
+unpleasant thrill (like what a good ghost-story gives one) at the
+'uncanny' coincidence of my having so unexpectedly divined the subject
+of her studies.
+
+It was a book of Domestic Cookery, open at the article Bread Sauce.'
+
+I returned the book, looking, I suppose, a little blank, as the lady
+laughed merrily at my discomfiture. "It's far more exciting than some
+of the modern ghosts, I assure you! Now there was a Ghost last month--I
+don't mean a real Ghost in in Supernature--but in a Magazine. It was
+a perfectly flavourless Ghost. It wouldn't have frightened a mouse! It
+wasn't a Ghost that one would even offer a chair to!"
+
+"Three score years and ten, baldness, and spectacles, have their
+advantages after all!", I said to myself. "Instead of a bashful youth
+and maiden, gasping out monosyllables at awful intervals, here we have
+an old man and a child, quite at their ease, talking as if they had
+known each other for years! Then you think," I continued aloud, "that
+we ought sometimes to ask a Ghost to sit down? But have we any authority
+for it? In Shakespeare, for instance--there are plenty of ghosts
+there--does Shakespeare ever give the stage-direction 'hands chair to
+Ghost'?"
+
+The lady looked puzzled and thoughtful for a moment: then she almost
+clapped her hands. "Yes, yes, he does!" she cried. "He makes Hamlet say
+'Rest, rest, perturbed Spirit!"'
+
+"And that, I suppose, means an easy-chair?"
+
+"An American rocking-chair, I think--"
+
+"Fayfield Junction, my Lady, change for Elveston!" the guard announced,
+flinging open the door of the carriage: and we soon found ourselves,
+with all our portable property around us, on the platform.
+
+The accommodation, provided for passengers waiting at this Junction, was
+distinctly inadequate--a single wooden bench, apparently intended for
+three sitters only: and even this was already partially occupied by
+a very old man, in a smock frock, who sat, with rounded shoulders and
+drooping head, and with hands clasped on the top of his stick so as to
+make a sort of pillow for that wrinkled face with its look of patient
+weariness.
+
+"Come, you be off!" the Station-master roughly accosted the poor old
+man. "You be off, and make way for your betters! This way, my Lady!" he
+added in a perfectly different tone. "If your Ladyship will take a seat,
+the train will be up in a few minutes." The cringing servility of his
+manner was due, no doubt, to the address legible on the pile of luggage,
+which announced their owner to be "Lady Muriel Orme, passenger to
+Elveston, via Fayfield Junction."
+
+As I watched the old man slowly rise to his feet, and hobble a few paces
+down the platform, the lines came to my lips:--
+
+
+    "From sackcloth couch the Monk arose,
+    With toil his stiffen'd limbs he rear'd;
+    A hundred years had flung their snows
+    On his thin locks and floating beard."
+
+{Image...'Come, you be off!'}
+
+But the lady scarcely noticed the little incident. After one glance
+at the 'banished man,' who stood tremulously leaning on his stick, she
+turned to me. "This is not an American rocking-chair, by any means!
+Yet may I say," slightly changing her place, so as to make room for me
+beside her, "may I say, in Hamlet's words, 'Rest, rest--'" she broke off
+with a silvery laugh.
+
+"--perturbed Spirit!"' I finished the sentence for her. "Yes, that
+describes a railway-traveler exactly! And here is an instance of it," I
+added, as the tiny local train drew up alongside the platform, and the
+porters bustled about, opening carriage-doors--one of them helping the
+poor old man to hoist himself into a third-class carriage, while another
+of them obsequiously conducted the lady and myself into a first-class.
+
+She paused, before following him, to watch the progress of the other
+passenger. "Poor old man!" she said. "How weak and ill he looks! It was
+a shame to let him be turned away like that. I'm very sorry--" At this
+moment it dawned on me that these words were not addressed to me, but
+that she was unconsciously thinking aloud. I moved away a few steps,
+and waited to follow her into the carriage, where I resumed the
+conversation.
+
+"Shakespeare must have traveled by rail, if only in a dream: 'perturbed
+Spirit' is such a happy phrase."
+
+"'Perturbed' referring, no doubt," she rejoined, "to the sensational
+booklets peculiar to the Rail. If Steam has done nothing else, it has at
+least added a whole new Species to English Literature!"
+
+"No doubt of it," I echoed. "The true origin of all our medical
+books--and all our cookery-books--"
+
+"No, no!" she broke in merrily. "I didn't mean our Literature! We are
+quite abnormal. But the booklets--the little thrilling romances, where
+the Murder comes at page fifteen, and the Wedding at page forty--surely
+they are due to Steam?"
+
+"And when we travel by Electricity if I may venture to develop your
+theory we shall have leaflets instead of booklets, and the Murder and
+the Wedding will come on the same page."
+
+"A development worthy of Darwin!", the lady exclaimed enthusiastically.
+"Only you reverse his theory. Instead of developing a mouse into an
+elephant, you would develop an elephant into a mouse!" But here we
+plunged into a tunnel, and I leaned back and closed my eyes for a
+moment, trying to recall a few of the incidents of my recent dream.
+
+"I thought I saw--" I murmured sleepily: and then the phrase insisted
+on conjugating itself, and ran into "you thought you saw--he thought he
+saw--" and then it suddenly went off into a song:--
+
+
+    "He thought he saw an Elephant,
+    That practised on a fife:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A letter from his wife.
+    'At length I realise,' he said,
+    "The bitterness of Life!'"
+
+And what a wild being it was who sang these wild words! A Gardener
+he seemed to be yet surely a mad one, by the way he brandished his
+rake--madder, by the way he broke, ever and anon, into a frantic
+jig--maddest of all, by the shriek in which he brought out the last
+words of the stanza!
+
+{Image....The gardener}
+
+It was so far a description of himself that he had the feet of an
+Elephant: but the rest of him was skin and bone: and the wisps of
+loose straw, that bristled all about him, suggested that he had been
+originally stuffed with it, and that nearly all the stuffing had come
+out.
+
+Sylvie and Bruno waited patiently till the end of the first verse. Then
+Sylvie advanced alone (Bruno having suddenly turned shy) and timidly
+introduced herself with the words "Please, I'm Sylvie!"
+
+"And who's that other thing?', said the Gardener.
+
+"What thing?" said Sylvie, looking round. "Oh, that's Bruno. He's my
+brother."
+
+"Was he your brother yesterday?" the Gardener anxiously enquired.
+
+"Course I were!" cried Bruno, who had gradually crept nearer, and
+didn't at all like being talked about without having his share in the
+conversation.
+
+"Ah, well!" the Gardener said with a kind of groan. "Things change so,
+here. Whenever I look again, it's sure to be something different! Yet I
+does my duty! I gets up wriggle-early at five--"
+
+"If I was oo," said Bruno, "I wouldn't wriggle so early. It's as bad as
+being a worm!" he added, in an undertone to Sylvie.
+
+"But you shouldn't be lazy in the morning, Bruno," said Sylvie.
+"Remember, it's the early bird that picks up the worm!"
+
+"It may, if it likes!" Bruno said with a slight yawn. "I don't like
+eating worms, one bit. I always stop in bed till the early bird has
+picked them up!"
+
+"I wonder you've the face to tell me such fibs!" cried the Gardener.
+
+To which Bruno wisely replied "Oo don't want a face to tell fibs
+wiz--only a mouf."
+
+Sylvie discreetly changed the subject. "And did you plant all these
+flowers?" she said.
+
+"What a lovely garden you've made! Do you know, I'd like to live here
+always!"
+
+"In the winter-nights--" the Gardener was beginning.
+
+"But I'd nearly forgotten what we came about!" Sylvie interrupted.
+"Would you please let us through into the road? There's a poor old
+beggar just gone out--and he's very hungry--and Bruno wants to give him
+his cake, you know!"
+
+"It's as much as my place is worth!" the Gardener muttered, taking a key
+from his pocket, and beginning to unlock a door in the garden-wall.
+
+"How much are it wurf?" Bruno innocently enquired.
+
+But the Gardener only grinned. "That's a secret!" he said. "Mind you
+come back quick!" he called after the children, as they passed out into
+the road. I had just time to follow them, before he shut the door again.
+
+We hurried down the road, and very soon caught sight of the old Beggar,
+about a quarter of a mile ahead of us, and the children at once set off
+running to overtake him.
+
+Lightly and swiftly they skimmed over the ground, and I could not in
+the least understand how it was I kept up with them so easily. But the
+unsolved problem did not worry me so much as at another time it might
+have done, there were so many other things to attend to.
+
+The old Beggar must have been very deaf, as he paid no attention
+whatever to Bruno's eager shouting, but trudged wearily on, never
+pausing until the child got in front of him and held up the slice of
+cake. The poor little fellow was quite out of breath, and could only
+utter the one word "Cake!" not with the gloomy decision with which
+Her Excellency had so lately pronounced it, but with a sweet childish
+timidity, looking up into the old man's face with eyes that loved 'all
+things both great and small.'
+
+The old man snatched it from him, and devoured it greedily, as some
+hungry wild beast might have done, but never a word of thanks did he
+give his little benefactor--only growled "More, more!" and glared at the
+half-frightened children.
+
+"There is no more!", Sylvie said with tears in her eyes. "I'd eaten
+mine. It was a shame to let you be turned away like that. I'm very
+sorry--"
+
+I lost the rest of the sentence, for my mind had recurred, with a great
+shock of surprise, to Lady Muriel Orme, who had so lately uttered
+these very words of Sylvie's--yes, and in Sylvie's own voice, and with
+Sylvie's gentle pleading eyes!
+
+"Follow me!" were the next words I heard, as the old man waved his hand,
+with a dignified grace that ill suited his ragged dress, over a bush,
+that stood by the road side, which began instantly to sink into the
+earth. At another time I might have doubted the evidence of my eyes,
+or at least have felt some astonishment: but, in this strange scene, my
+whole being seemed absorbed in strong curiosity as to what would happen
+next.
+
+When the bush had sunk quite out of our sight, marble steps were seen,
+leading downwards into darkness. The old man led the way, and we eagerly
+followed.
+
+The staircase was so dark, at first, that I could only just see the
+forms of the children, as, hand-in-hand, they groped their way down
+after their guide: but it got lighter every moment, with a strange
+silvery brightness, that seemed to exist in the air, as there were no
+lamps visible; and, when at last we reached a level floor, the room, in
+which we found ourselves, was almost as light as day.
+
+It was eight-sided, having in each angle a slender pillar, round which
+silken draperies were twined. The wall between the pillars was entirely
+covered, to the height of six or seven feet, with creepers, from which
+hung quantities of ripe fruit and of brilliant flowers, that almost hid
+the leaves. In another place, perchance, I might have wondered to see
+fruit and flowers growing together: here, my chief wonder was that
+neither fruit nor flowers were such as I had ever seen before. Higher
+up, each wall contained a circular window of coloured glass; and over
+all was an arched roof, that seemed to be spangled all over with jewels.
+
+With hardly less wonder, I turned this way and that, trying to make
+out how in the world we had come in: for there was no door: and all the
+walls were thickly covered with the lovely creepers.
+
+"We are safe here, my darlings!" said the old man, laying a hand on
+Sylvie's shoulder, and bending down to kiss her. Sylvie drew back
+hastily, with an offended air: but in another moment, with a glad cry of
+"Why, it's Father!", she had run into his arms.
+
+{Image...A beggar's palace}
+
+"Father! Father!" Bruno repeated: and, while the happy children were
+being hugged and kissed, I could but rub my eyes and say "Where, then,
+are the rags gone to?"; for the old man was now dressed in royal robes
+that glittered with jewels and gold embroidery, and wore a circlet of
+gold around his head.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 6. THE MAGIC LOCKET.
+
+"Where are we, father?" Sylvie whispered, with her arms twined closely
+around the old man's neck, and with her rosy cheek lovingly pressed to
+his.
+
+"In Elfland, darling. It's one of the provinces of Fairyland."
+
+"But I thought Elfland was ever so far from Outland: and we've come such
+a tiny little way!"
+
+"You came by the Royal Road, sweet one. Only those of royal blood can
+travel along it: but you've been royal ever since I was made King of
+Elfland that's nearly a month ago. They sent two ambassadors, to make
+sure that their invitation to me, to be their new King, should reach me.
+One was a Prince; so he was able to come by the Royal Road, and to come
+invisibly to all but me: the other was a Baron; so he had to come by the
+common road, and I dare say he hasn't even arrived yet."
+
+"Then how far have we come?" Sylvie enquired.
+
+"Just a thousand miles, sweet one, since the Gardener unlocked that door
+for you."
+
+"A thousand miles!" Bruno repeated. "And may I eat one?"
+
+"Eat a mile, little rogue?"
+
+"No," said Bruno. "I mean may I eat one of that fruits?"
+
+"Yes, child," said his father: "and then you'll find out what Pleasure
+is like--the Pleasure we all seek so madly, and enjoy so mournfully!"
+
+Bruno ran eagerly to the wall, and picked a fruit that was shaped
+something like a banana, but had the colour of a strawberry.
+
+He ate it with beaming looks, that became gradually more gloomy, and
+were very blank indeed by the time he had finished.
+
+"It hasn't got no taste at all!" he complained. "I couldn't feel nuffin
+in my mouf! It's a--what's that hard word, Sylvie?"
+
+"It was a Phlizz," Sylvie gravely replied. "Are they all like that,
+father?"
+
+"They're all like that to you, darling, because you don't belong to
+Elfland--yet. But to me they are real."
+
+Bruno looked puzzled. "I'll try anuvver kind of fruits!" he said, and
+jumped down off the King's knee. "There's some lovely striped ones, just
+like a rainbow!" And off he ran.
+
+Meanwhile the Fairy-King and Sylvie were talking together, but in such
+low tones that I could not catch the words: so I followed Bruno, who
+was picking and eating other kinds of fruit, in the vain hope of finding
+some that had a taste. I tried to pick so me myself--but it was like
+grasping air, and I soon gave up the attempt and returned to Sylvie.
+
+"Look well at it, my darling," the old man was saying, "and tell me how
+you like it."
+
+"'It's just lovely," cried Sylvie, delightedly. "Bruno, come and
+look!" And she held up, so that he might see the light through it, a
+heart-shaped Locket, apparently cut out of a single jewel, of a rich
+blue colour, with a slender gold chain attached to it.
+
+"It are welly pretty," Bruno more soberly remarked: and he began
+spelling out some words inscribed on it. "All--will--love--Sylvie," he
+made them out at last. "And so they doos!" he cried, clasping his arms
+round her neck. "Everybody loves Sylvie!"
+
+"But we love her best, don't we, Bruno?" said the old King, as he took
+possession of the Locket. "Now, Sylvie, look at this." And he showed
+her, lying on the palm of his hand, a Locket of a deep crimson colour,
+the same shape as the blue one and, like it, attached to a slender
+golden chain.
+
+"Lovelier and lovelier!" exclaimed Sylvie, clasping her hands in
+ecstasy. "Look, Bruno!"
+
+"And there's words on this one, too," said Bruno.
+"Sylvie--will--love--all."
+
+"Now you see the difference," said the old man: "different colours and
+different words."
+
+"Choose one of them, darling. I'll give you which ever you like best."
+
+{Image...The crimson locket}
+
+Sylvie whispered the words, several times over, with a thoughtful smile,
+and then made her decision. "It's very nice to be loved," she said: "but
+it's nicer to love other people! May I have the red one, Father?"
+
+The old man said nothing: but I could see his eyes fill with tears, as
+he bent his head and pressed his lips to her forehead in a long loving
+kiss. Then he undid the chain, and showed her how to fasten it round her
+neck, and to hide it away under the edge of her frock. "It's for you
+to keep you know he said in a low voice, not for other people to see.
+You'll remember how to use it?"
+
+"Yes, I'll remember," said Sylvie.
+
+"And now darlings it's time for you to go back or they'll be missing you
+and then that poor Gardener will get into trouble!"
+
+Once more a feeling of wonder rose in my mind as to how in the world we
+were to get back again--since I took it for granted that wherever the
+children went I was to go--but no shadow of doubt seemed to cross
+their minds as they hugged and kissed him murmuring over and over again
+"Good-bye darling Father!" And then suddenly and swiftly the darkness
+of midnight seemed to close in upon us and through the darkness harshly
+rang a strange wild song:--
+
+
+    He thought he saw a Buffalo
+    Upon the chimney-piece:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    His Sister's Husband's Niece.
+    'Unless you leave this house,' he said,
+    'I'll send for the Police!'
+
+{Image...'He thought he saw a buffalo'}
+
+"That was me!" he added, looking out at us, through the half-opened
+door, as we stood waiting in the road.' "And that's what I'd have
+done--as sure as potatoes aren't radishes--if she hadn't have tooken
+herself off! But I always loves my pay-rints like anything."
+
+"Who are oor pay-rints?" said Bruno.
+
+"Them as pay rint for me, a course!" the Gardener replied. "You can come
+in now, if you like."
+
+He flung the door open as he spoke, and we got out, a little dazzled
+and stupefied (at least I felt so) at the sudden transition from
+the half-darkness of the railway-carriage to the brilliantly-lighted
+platform of Elveston Station.
+
+A footman, in a handsome livery, came forwards and respectfully touched
+his hat. "The carriage is here, my Lady," he said, taking from her
+the wraps and small articles she was carrying: and Lady Muriel, after
+shaking hands and bidding me "Good-night!" with a pleasant smile,
+followed him.
+
+It was with a somewhat blank and lonely feeling that I betook myself to
+the van from which the luggage was being taken out: and, after giving
+directions to have my boxes sent after me, I made my way on foot to
+Arthur's lodgings, and soon lost my lonely feeling in the hearty welcome
+my old friend gave me, and the cozy warmth and cheerful light of the
+little sitting-room into which he led me.
+
+"Little, as you see, but quite enough for us two. Now, take the
+easy-chair, old fellow, and let's have another look at you! Well, you
+do look a bit pulled down!" and he put on a solemn professional air.
+"I prescribe Ozone, quant. suff. Social dissipation, fiant pilulae quam
+plurimae: to be taken, feasting, three times a day!"
+
+"But, Doctor!" I remonstrated. "Society doesn't 'receive' three times a
+day!"
+
+"That's all you know about it!" the young Doctor gaily replied. "At
+home, lawn-tennis, 3 P.M. At home, kettledrum, 5 P.M. At home, music
+(Elveston doesn't give dinners), 8 P.M. Carriages at 10. There you are!"
+
+It sounded very pleasant, I was obliged to admit. "And I know some
+of the lady-society already," I added. "One of them came in the same
+carriage with me."
+
+"What was she like? Then perhaps I can identify her."
+
+"The name was Lady Muriel Orme. As to what she was like--well, I thought
+her very beautiful. Do you know her?"
+
+"Yes--I do know her." And the grave Doctor coloured slightly as he added
+"Yes, I agree with you. She is beautiful."
+
+"I quite lost my heart to her!" I went on mischievously. "We talked--"
+
+"Have some supper!" Arthur interrupted with an air of relief, as the
+maid entered with the tray. And he steadily resisted all my attempts to
+return to the subject of Lady Muriel until the evening had almost worn
+itself away. Then, as we sat gazing into the fire, and conversation was
+lapsing into silence, he made a hurried confession.
+
+"I hadn't meant to tell you anything about her," he said (naming no
+names, as if there were only one 'she' in the world!) "till you had
+seen more of her, and formed your own judgment of her: but somehow you
+surprised it out of me. And I've not breathed a word of it to any one
+else. But I can trust you with a secret, old friend! Yes! It's true of
+me, what I suppose you said in jest.
+
+"In the merest jest, believe me!" I said earnestly. "Why, man, I'm three
+times her age! But if she's your choice, then I'm sure she's all that is
+good and--"
+
+"--and sweet," Arthur went on, "and pure, and self-denying, and
+true-hearted, and--" he broke off hastily, as if he could not trust
+himself to say more on a subject so sacred and so precious. Silence
+followed: and I leaned back drowsily in my easy-chair, filled with
+bright and beautiful imaginings of Arthur and his lady-love, and of all
+the peace and happiness in store for them.
+
+I pictured them to myself walking together, lingeringly and lovingly,
+under arching trees, in a sweet garden of their own, and welcomed back
+by their faithful gardener, on their return from some brief excursion.
+
+It seemed natural enough that the gardener should be filled with
+exuberant delight at the return of so gracious a master and mistress and
+how strangely childlike they looked! I could have taken them for Sylvie
+and Bruno less natural that he should show it by such wild dances, such
+crazy songs!
+
+
+    "He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
+    That questioned him in Greek:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    The Middle of Next Week.
+    'The one thing I regret,' he said,
+    'Is that it cannot speak!"
+
+--least natural of all that the Vice-Warden and 'my Lady' should be
+standing close beside me, discussing an open letter, which had just been
+handed to him by the Professor, who stood, meekly waiting, a few yards
+off.
+
+"If it were not for those two brats," I heard him mutter, glancing
+savagely at Sylvie and Bruno, who were courteously listening to the
+Gardener's song, "there would be no difficulty whatever."
+
+"Let's hear that bit of the letter again," said my Lady. And the
+Vice-Warden read aloud:--
+
+"--and we therefore entreat you graciously to accept the Kingship, to
+which you have been unanimously elected by the Council of Elfland: and
+that you will allow your son Bruno of whose goodness, cleverness, and
+beauty, reports have reached us--to be regarded as Heir-Apparent."
+
+"But what's the difficulty?" said my Lady.
+
+"Why, don't you see? The Ambassador, that brought this, is waiting in
+the house: and he's sure to see Sylvie and Bruno: and then, when he sees
+Uggug, and remembers all that about 'goodness, cleverness, and beauty,'
+why, he's sure to--"
+
+"And where will you find a better boy than Uggug?" my Lady indignantly
+interrupted. "Or a wittier, or a lovelier?"
+
+To all of which the Vice-Warden simply replied "Don't you be a great
+blethering goose! Our only chance is to keep those two brats out of
+sight. If you can manage that, you may leave the rest to me. I'll make
+him believe Uggug to be a model of cleverness and all that."
+
+"We must change his name to Bruno, of course?" said my Lady.
+
+The Vice-Warden rubbed his chin. "Humph! No!" he said musingly.
+"Wouldn't do. The boy's such an utter idiot, he'd never learn to answer
+to it."
+
+"Idiot, indeed!" cried my Lady. "He's no more an idiot than I am!"
+
+"You're right, my dear," the Vice-Warden soothingly I replied. "He
+isn't, indeed!"
+
+My Lady was appeased. "Let's go in and receive the Ambassador," she
+said, and beckoned to the Professor. "Which room is he waiting in?" she
+inquired.
+
+"In the Library, Madam."
+
+"And what did you say his name was?" said the Vice-Warden.
+
+The Professor referred to a card he held in his hand. "His Adiposity the
+Baron Doppelgeist."
+
+"Why does he come with such a funny name?" said my Lady.
+
+"He couldn't well change it on the journey," the Professor meekly
+replied, "because of the luggage."
+
+"You go and receive him," my Lady said to the Vice-Warden, "and I'll
+attend to the children."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 7. THE BARONS EMBASSY.
+
+I was following the Vice-Warden, but, on second thoughts, went after my
+Lady, being curious to see how she would manage to keep the children out
+of sight.
+
+I found her holding Sylvie's hand, and with her other hand stroking
+Bruno's hair in a most tender and motherly fashion: both children were
+looking bewildered and half-frightened.
+
+"My own darlings," she was saying, "I've been planning a little treat
+for you! The Professor shall take you a long walk into the woods this
+beautiful evening: and you shall take a basket of food with you, and
+have a little picnic down by the river!"
+
+Bruno jumped, and clapped his hands. "That are nice!" he cried. "Aren't
+it, Sylvie?"
+
+Sylvie, who hadn't quite lost her surprised look, put up her mouth for a
+kiss. "Thank you very much," she said earnestly.
+
+My Lady turned her head away to conceal the broad grin of triumph that
+spread over her vast face, like a ripple on a lake. "Little simpletons!"
+she muttered to herself, as she marched up to the house. I followed her
+in.
+
+"Quite so, your Excellency," the Baron was saying as we entered the
+Library. "All the infantry were under my command." He turned, and was
+duly presented to my Lady.
+
+"A military hero?" said my Lady. The fat little man simpered. "Well,
+yes," he replied, modestly casting down his eyes. "My ancestors were all
+famous for military genius."
+
+My Lady smiled graciously. "It often runs in families," she remarked:
+"just as a love for pastry does."
+
+The Baron looked slightly offended, and the Vice-Warden discreetly
+changed the subject. "Dinner will soon be ready," he said. "May I have
+the honour of conducting your Adiposity to the guest-chamber?"
+
+"Certainly, certainly!" the Baron eagerly assented. "It would never do
+to keep dinner waiting!" And he almost trotted out of the room after the
+Vice-Warden.
+
+He was back again so speedily that the Vice-warden had barely time
+to explain to my Lady that her remark about "a love for pastry" was
+"unfortunate. You might have seen, with half an eye," he added, "that
+that's his line. Military genius, indeed! Pooh!"
+
+"Dinner ready yet?" the Baron enquired, as he hurried into the room.
+
+"Will be in a few minutes," the Vice-Warden replied. "Meanwhile, let's
+take a turn in the garden. You were telling me," he continued, as the
+trio left the house, "something about a great battle in which you had
+the command of the infantry--"
+
+"True," said the Baron. "The enemy, as I was saying, far outnumbered
+us: but I marched my men right into the middle of--what's that?" the
+Military Hero exclaimed in agitated tones, drawing back behind the
+Vice-Warden, as a strange creature rushed wildly upon them, brandishing
+a spade.
+
+"It's only the Gardener!" the Vice-Warden replied in an encouraging
+tone. "Quite harmless, I assure you. Hark, he's singing! Its his
+favorite amusement."
+
+And once more those shrill discordant tones rang out:--
+
+
+    "He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
+    Descending from the bus:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A Hippopotamus:
+    'If this should stay to dine,' he said,
+    'There won't be mutch for us!'"
+
+Throwing away the spade, he broke into a frantic jig, snapping his
+fingers, and repeating, again and again,
+
+
+    "There won't be much for us!
+    There won't be much for us!"
+
+{Image...It was a hippoptamus}
+
+Once more the Baron looked slightly offended, but the Vice-Warden
+hastily explained that the song had no allusion to him, and in fact had
+no meaning at all. "You didn't mean anything by it, now did you?"
+He appealed to the Gardener, who had finished his song, and stood,
+balancing himself on one leg, and looking at them, with his mouth open.
+
+"I never means nothing," said the Gardener: and Uggug luckily came up at
+the moment, and gave the conversation a new turn.
+
+"Allow me to present my son," said the Vice-warden; adding, in a
+whisper, "one of the best and cleverest boys that ever lived! I'll
+contrive for you to see some of his cleverness. He knows everything that
+other boys don't know; and in archery, in fishing, in painting, and
+in music, his skill is--but you shall judge for yourself. You see that
+target over there? He shall shoot an arrow at it. Dear boy," he went on
+aloud, "his Adiposity would like to see you shoot. Bring his Highness'
+bow and arrows!"
+
+Uggug looked very sulky as he received the bow and arrow, and prepared
+to shoot. Just as the arrow left the bow, the Vice-Warden trod heavily
+on the toe of the Baron, who yelled with the pain.
+
+"Ten thousand pardons!" he exclaimed. "I stepped back in my excitement.
+See! It is a bull's-eye!"
+
+The Baron gazed in astonishment. "He held the bow so awkwardly, it
+seemed impossible!" he muttered. But there was no room for doubt: there
+was the arrow, right in the centre of the bull's-eye!
+
+"The lake is close by," continued the Vice-warden. "Bring his Highness'
+fishing-rod!" And Uggug most unwillingly held the rod, and dangled the
+fly over the water.
+
+"A beetle on your arm!" cried my Lady, pinching the poor Baron's
+arm worse than if ten lobsters had seized it at once. "That kind is
+poisonous," she explained. "But what a pity! You missed seeing the fish
+pulled out!"
+
+An enormous dead cod-fish was lying on the bank, with the hook in its
+mouth.
+
+"I had always fancied," the Baron faltered, "that cod were salt-water
+fish?"
+
+"Not in this country," said the Vice-Warden. "Shall we go in? Ask my son
+some question on the way any subject you like!" And the sulky boy was
+violently shoved forwards, to walk at the Baron's side.
+
+"Could your Highness tell me," the Baron cautiously began, "how much
+seven times nine would come to?"
+
+"Turn to the left!" cried the Vice-Warden, hastily stepping forwards to
+show the way---so hastily, that he ran against his unfortunate guest,
+who fell heavily on his face.
+
+"So sorry!" my Lady exclaimed, as she and her husband helped him to his
+feet again. "My son was in the act of saying 'sixty-three' as you fell!"
+
+The Baron said nothing: he was covered with dust, and seemed much hurt,
+both in body and mind. However, when they had got him into the house,
+and given him a good brushing, matters looked a little better.
+
+Dinner was served in due course, and every fresh dish seemed to increase
+the good-humour of the Baron: but all efforts, to get him to express his
+opinion as to Uggug's cleverness, were in vain, until that interesting
+youth had left the room, and was seen from the open window, prowling
+about the lawn with a little basket, which he was filling with frogs.
+
+"So fond of Natural History as he is, dear boy!" said the doting mother.
+"Now do tell us, Baron, what you think of him!"
+
+"To be perfectly candid," said the cautious Baron, "I would like a
+little more evidence. I think you mentioned his skill in--"
+
+"Music?" said the Vice-Warden. "Why, he's simply a prodigy! You shall
+hear him play the piano." And he walked to the window. "Ug--I mean my
+boy! Come in for a minute, and bring the music-master with you! To turn
+over the music for him," he added as an explanation.
+
+Uggug, having filled his basket with frogs, had no objection to obey,
+and soon appeared in the room, followed by a fierce-looking little man,
+who asked the Vice-Warden "Vot music vill you haf?"
+
+"The Sonata that His Highness plays so charmingly," said the
+Vice-Warden. "His Highness haf not--" the music-master began, but was
+sharply stopped by the Vice-warden.
+
+"Silence, Sir! Go and turn over the music for his Highness. My dear,"
+(to the Wardeness) "will you show him what to do? And meanwhile, Baron,
+I'll just show you a most interesting map we have--of Outland, and
+Fairyland, and that sort of thing."
+
+By the time my Lady had returned, from explaining things to the
+music-master, the map had been hung up, and the Baron was already much
+bewildered by the Vice-Warden's habit of pointing to one place while he
+shouted out the name of another.
+
+{Image...The map of fairyland}
+
+My Lady joining in, pointing out other places, and shouting other names,
+only made matters worse; and at last the Baron, in despair, took to
+pointing out places for himself, and feebly asked "Is that great yellow
+splotch Fairyland?"
+
+"Yes, that's Fairyland," said the Vice-warden: "and you might as well
+give him a hint," he muttered to my Lady, "about going back to-morrow.
+He eats like a shark! It would hardly do for me to mention it."
+
+His wife caught the idea, and at once began giving hints of the most
+subtle and delicate kind. "Just see what a short way it is back to
+Fairyland! Why, if you started to-morrow morning, you'd get there in
+very little more than a week!"
+
+The Baron looked incredulous. "It took me a full month to come," he
+said.
+
+"But it's ever so much shorter, going back, you know!'
+
+The Baron looked appealingly to the Vice-warden, who chimed in readily.
+"You can go back five times, in the time it took you to come here
+once--if you start to-morrow morning!"
+
+All this time the Sonata was pealing through the room. The Baron could
+not help admitting to himself that it was being magnificently played:
+but he tried in vain to get a glimpse of the youthful performer. Every
+time he had nearly succeeded in catching sight of him, either the
+Vice-Warden or his wife was sure to get in the way, pointing out some
+new place on the map, and deafening him with some new name.
+
+He gave in at last, wished a hasty good-night, and left the room, while
+his host and hostess interchanged looks of triumph.
+
+"Deftly done!" cried the Vice-Warden. "Craftily contrived! But what
+means all that tramping on the stairs?" He half-opened the door, looked
+out, and added in a tone of dismay, "The Baron's boxes are being carried
+down!"
+
+"And what means all that rumbling of wheels?" cried my Lady. She peeped
+through the window curtains. "The Baron's carriage has come round!" she
+groaned.
+
+At this moment the door opened: a fat, furious face looked in: a
+voice, hoarse with passion, thundered out the words "My room is full of
+frogs--I leave you!": and the door closed again.
+
+And still the noble Sonata went pealing through the room: but it was
+Arthur's masterly touch that roused the echoes, and thrilled my very
+soul with the tender music of the immortal 'Sonata Pathetique': and
+it was not till the last note had died away that the tired but happy
+traveler could bring himself to utter the words "good-night!" and to
+seek his much-needed pillow.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 8. A RIDE ON A LION.
+
+The next day glided away, pleasantly enough, partly in settling myself
+in my new quarters, and partly in strolling round the neighbourhood,
+under Arthur's guidance, and trying to form a general idea of Elveston
+and its inhabitants. When five o'clock arrived, Arthur proposed without
+any embarrassment this time--to take me with him up to 'the Hall,' in
+order that I might make acquaintance with the Earl of Ainslie, who had
+taken it for the season, and renew acquaintance with his daughter Lady
+Muriel.
+
+My first impressions of the gentle, dignified, and yet genial old man
+were entirely favourable: and the real satisfaction that showed itself
+on his daughter's face, as she met me with the words "this is indeed
+an unlooked-for pleasure!", was very soothing for whatever remains of
+personal vanity the failures and disappointments of many long years, and
+much buffeting with a rough world, had left in me.
+
+Yet I noted, and was glad to note, evidence of a far deeper feeling than
+mere friendly regard, in her meeting with Arthur though this was, as I
+gathered, an almost daily occurrence--and the conversation between them,
+in which the Earl and I were only occasional sharers, had an ease and a
+spontaneity rarely met with except between very old friends: and, as
+I knew that they had not known each other for a longer period than the
+summer which was now rounding into autumn, I felt certain that 'Love,'
+and Love alone, could explain the phenomenon.
+
+"How convenient it would be," Lady Muriel laughingly remarked, a propos
+of my having insisted on saving her the trouble of carrying a cup of tea
+across the room to the Earl, "if cups of tea had no weight at all! Then
+perhaps ladies would sometimes be permitted to carry them for short
+distances!"
+
+"One can easily imagine a situation," said Arthur, "where things would
+necessarily have no weight, relatively to each other, though each would
+have its usual weight, looked at by itself."
+
+"Some desperate paradox!" said the Earl. "Tell us how it could be. We
+shall never guess it."
+
+"Well, suppose this house, just as it is, placed a few billion miles
+above a planet, and with nothing else near enough to disturb it: of
+course it falls to the planet?"
+
+The Earl nodded. "Of course though it might take some centuries to do
+it."
+
+"And is five-o'clock-tea to be going on all the while?" said Lady
+Muriel.
+
+"That, and other things," said Arthur. "The inhabitants would live their
+lives, grow up and die, and still the house would be falling, falling,
+falling! But now as to the relative weight of things. Nothing can be
+heavy, you know, except by trying to fall, and being prevented from
+doing so. You all grant that?"
+
+We all granted that.
+
+"Well, now, if I take this book, and hold it out at arm's length, of
+course I feel its weight. It is trying to fall, and I prevent it.
+And, if I let go, it fails to the floor. But, if we were all falling
+together, it couldn't be trying to fall any quicker, you know: for, if
+I let go, what more could it do than fall? And, as my hand would be
+falling too--at the same rate--it would never leave it, for that would
+be to get ahead of it in the race. And it could never overtake the
+failing floor!"
+
+"I see it clearly," said Lady Muriel. "But it makes one dizzy to think
+of such things! How can you make us do it?"
+
+"There is a more curious idea yet," I ventured to say. "Suppose a cord
+fastened to the house, from below, and pulled down by some one on the
+planet. Then of course the house goes faster than its natural rate of
+falling: but the furniture--with our noble selves--would go on failing
+at their old pace, and would therefore be left behind."
+
+"Practically, we should rise to the ceiling," said the Earl. "The
+inevitable result of which would be concussion of brain."
+
+"To avoid that," said Arthur, "let us have the furniture fixed to
+the floor, and ourselves tied down to the furniture. Then the
+five-o'clock-tea could go on in peace."
+
+"With one little drawback!" Lady Muriel gaily interrupted. "We should
+take the cups down with us: but what about the tea?"
+
+"I had forgotten the tea," Arthur confessed. "That, no doubt, would rise
+to the ceiling unless you chose to drink it on the way!"
+
+"Which, I think, is quite nonsense enough for one while!" said the Earl.
+"What news does this gentleman bring us from the great world of London?"
+
+This drew me into the conversation, which now took a more conventional
+tone. After a while, Arthur gave the signal for our departure, and in
+the cool of the evening we strolled down to the beach, enjoying the
+silence, broken only by the murmur of the sea and the far-away music of
+some fishermen's song, almost as much as our late pleasant talk.
+
+We sat down among the rocks, by a little pool, so rich in animal,
+vegetable, and zoophytic--or whatever is the right word--life, that I
+became entranced in the study of it, and, when Arthur proposed returning
+to our lodgings, I begged to be left there for a while, to watch and
+muse alone.
+
+The fishermen's song grew ever nearer and clearer, as their boat stood
+in for the beach; and I would have gone down to see them land their
+cargo of fish, had not the microcosm at my feet stirred my curiosity yet
+more keenly.
+
+One ancient crab, that was for ever shuffling frantically from side to
+side of the pool, had particularly fascinated me: there was a vacancy in
+its stare, and an aimless violence in its behaviour, that irresistibly
+recalled the Gardener who had befriended Sylvie and Bruno: and, as I
+gazed, I caught the concluding notes of the tune of his crazy song.
+
+The silence that followed was broken by the sweet voice of Sylvie.
+"Would you please let us out into the road?"
+
+"What! After that old beggar again?" the Gardener yelled, and began
+singing:--
+
+
+    "He thought he saw a Kangaroo
+    That worked a coffee-mill:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A Vegetable-pill
+    'Were I to swallow this,' he said,
+    'I should be very ill!'"
+
+{Image...He thought he saw a kangaroo}
+
+"We don't want him to swallow anything," Sylvie explained. "He's not
+hungry. But we want to see him. So Will you please--"
+
+"Certainly!" the Gardener promptly replied. "I always please. Never
+displeases nobody. There you are!" And he flung the door open, and let
+us out upon the dusty high-road.
+
+We soon found our way to the bush, which had so mysteriously sunk into
+the ground: and here Sylvie drew the Magic Locket from its hiding-place,
+turned it over with a thoughtful air, and at last appealed to Bruno in a
+rather helpless way. "What was it we had to do with it, Bruno? It's all
+gone out of my head!"
+
+"Kiss it!" was Bruno's invariable recipe in cases of doubt and
+difficulty. Sylvie kissed it, but no result followed.
+
+"Rub it the wrong way," was Bruno's next suggestion.
+
+"Which is the wrong way?", Sylvie most reasonably enquired. The obvious
+plan was to try both ways.
+
+Rubbing from left to right had no visible effect whatever.
+
+From right to left--"Oh, stop, Sylvie!" Bruno cried in sudden alarm.
+"Whatever is going to happen?"
+
+For a number of trees, on the neighbouring hillside, were moving slowly
+upwards, in solemn procession: while a mild little brook, that had been
+rippling at our feet a moment before, began to swell, and foam, and
+hiss, and bubble, in a truly alarming fashion.
+
+"Rub it some other way!" cried Bruno. "Try up-and-down! Quick!"
+
+It was a happy thought. Up-and-down did it: and the landscape, which had
+been showing signs of mental aberration in various directions, returned
+to its normal condition of sobriety with the exception of a small
+yellowish-brown mouse, which continued to run wildly up and down the
+road, lashing its tail like a little lion.
+
+"Let's follow it," said Sylvie: and this also turned out a happy
+thought. The mouse at once settled down into a business-like jog-trot,
+with which we could easily keep pace. The only phenomenon, that gave
+me any uneasiness, was the rapid increase in the size of the little
+creature we were following, which became every moment more and more like
+a real lion.
+
+Soon the transformation was complete: and a noble lion stood patiently
+waiting for us to come up with it. No thought of fear seemed to occur
+to the children, who patted and stroked it as if it had been a
+Shetland-pony.
+
+{Image...The mouse-lion}
+
+"Help me up!" cried Bruno. And in another moment Sylvie had lifted him
+upon the broad back of the gentle beast, and seated herself behind him,
+pillion-fashion. Bruno took a good handful of mane in each hand, and
+made believe to guide this new kind of steed. "Gee-up!', seemed quite
+sufficient by way of verbal direction: the lion at once broke into an
+easy canter, and we soon found ourselves in the depths of the forest. I
+say 'we,' for I am certain that I accompanied them though how I managed
+to keep up with a cantering lion I am wholly unable to explain. But
+I was certainly one of the party when we came upon an old beggar-man
+cutting sticks, at whose feet the lion made a profound obeisance, Sylvie
+and Bruno at the same moment dismounting, and leaping in to the arms of
+their father.
+
+"From bad to worse!" the old man said to himself, dreamily, when the
+children had finished their rather confused account of the Ambassador's
+visit, gathered no doubt from general report, as they had not seen him
+themselves. "From bad to worse! That is their destiny. I see it, but
+I cannot alter it. The selfishness of a mean and crafty man--the
+selfishness of an ambitious and silly woman----the selfishness of a
+spiteful and loveless child all tend one way, from bad to worse! And
+you, my darlings, must suffer it awhile, I fear. Yet, when things are at
+their worst, you can come to me. I can do but little as yet--"
+
+Gathering up a handful of dust and scattering it in the air, he slowly
+and solemnly pronounced some words that sounded like a charm, the
+children looking on in awe-struck silence:--
+
+
+    "Let craft, ambition, spite,
+    Be quenched in Reason's night,
+    Till weakness turn to might,
+    Till what is dark be light,
+    Till what is wrong be right!"
+
+The cloud of dust spread itself out through the air, as if it were
+alive, forming curious shapes that were for ever changing into others.
+
+"It makes letters! It makes words!" Bruno whispered, as he clung,
+half-frightened, to Sylvie. "Only I ca'n't make them out! Read them,
+Sylvie!"
+
+"I'll try," Sylvie gravely replied. "Wait a minute--if only I could see
+that word--"
+
+"I should be very ill!', a discordant voice yelled in our ears.
+
+
+    "Were I to swallow this,' he said,
+    'I should be very ill!'"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 9. A JESTER AND A BEAR.
+
+Yes, we were in the garden once more: and, to escape that horrid
+discordant voice, we hurried indoors, and found ourselves in the
+library--Uggug blubbering, the Professor standing by with a bewildered
+air, and my Lady, with her arms clasped round her son's neck, repeating,
+over and over again, "and did they give him nasty lessons to learn? My
+own pretty pet!"
+
+"What's all this noise about?" the Vice-warden angrily enquired, as he
+strode into the room. "And who put the hat-stand here?"
+
+And he hung his hat up on Bruno, who was standing in the middle of the
+room, too much astonished by the sudden change of scene to make any
+attempt at removing it, though it came down to his shoulders, making him
+look something like a small candle with a large extinguisher over it.
+
+The Professor mildly explained that His Highness had been graciously
+pleased to say he wouldn't do his lessons.
+
+"Do your lessons this instant, you young cub!" thundered the
+Vice-Warden. "And take this!" and a resounding box on the ear made the
+unfortunate Professor reel across the room.
+
+"Save me!" faltered the poor old man, as he sank, half-fainting, at my
+Lady's feet.
+
+"Shave you? Of course I will!" my Lady replied, as she lifted him into a
+chair, and pinned an anti-macassar round his neck. "Where's the razor?"
+
+The Vice-Warden meanwhile had got hold of Uggug, and was belabouring him
+with his umbrella. "Who left this loose nail in the floor?" he shouted,
+"Hammer it in, I say! Hammer it in!" Blow after blow fell on the
+writhing Uggug, till he dropped howling to the floor.
+
+{Image...'Hammer it in!'}
+
+Then his father turned to the 'shaving' scene which was being enacted,
+and roared with laughter. "Excuse me, dear, I ca'n't help it!" he said
+as soon as he could speak. "You are such an utter donkey! Kiss me,
+Tabby!"
+
+And he flung his arms round the neck of the terrified Professor, who
+raised a wild shriek, but whether he received the threatened kiss or
+not I was unable to see, as Bruno, who had by this time released himself
+from his extinguisher, rushed headlong out of the room, followed by
+Sylvie; and I was so fearful of being left alone among all these crazy
+creatures that I hurried after them.
+
+"We must go to Father!" Sylvie panted, as they ran down the garden.
+"I'm sure things are at their worst! I'll ask the Gardener to let us out
+again."
+
+"But we ca'n't walk all the way!" Bruno whimpered. "How I wiss we had a
+coach-and-four, like Uncle!"
+
+And, shrill and wild, rang through the air the familiar voice:--
+
+
+    "He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
+    That stood beside his bed:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A Bear without a Head.
+    'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing!
+    It's waiting to be fed!'"
+
+{Image...A bear without a head}
+
+"No, I ca'n't let you out again!" he said, before the children could
+speak. "The Vice-warden gave it me, he did, for letting you out last
+time! So be off with you!" And, turning away from them, he began digging
+frantically in the middle of a gravel-walk, singing, over and over
+again, "'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing! It's waiting to be
+fed!'" but in a more musical tone than the shrill screech in which he
+had begun.
+
+The music grew fuller and richer at every moment: other manly voices
+joined in the refrain: and soon I heard the heavy thud that told me the
+boat had touched the beach, and the harsh grating of the shingle as the
+men dragged it up. I roused myself, and, after lending them a hand in
+hauling up their boat, I lingered yet awhile to watch them disembark a
+goodly assortment of the hard-won 'treasures of the deep.'
+
+When at last I reached our lodgings I was tired and sleepy, and glad
+enough to settle down again into the easy-chair, while Arthur hospitably
+went to his cupboard, to get me out some cake and wine, without which,
+he declared, he could not, as a doctor, permit my going to bed.
+
+And how that cupboard-door did creak! It surely could not be Arthur, who
+was opening and shutting it so often, moving so restlessly about, and
+muttering like the soliloquy of a tragedy-queen!
+
+No, it was a female voice. Also the figure half-hidden by the
+cupboard-door--was a female figure, massive, and in flowing robes.
+
+Could it be the landlady? The door opened, and a strange man entered the
+room.
+
+"What is that donkey doing?" he said to himself, pausing, aghast, on the
+threshold.
+
+The lady, thus rudely referred to, was his wife. She had got one of the
+cupboards open, and stood with her back to him, smoothing down a sheet
+of brown paper on one of the shelves, and whispering to herself "So, so!
+Deftly done! Craftily contrived!"
+
+Her loving husband stole behind her on tiptoe, and tapped her on the
+head. "Boh!" he playfully shouted at her ear. "Never tell me again I
+ca'n't say 'boh' to a goose!"
+
+My Lady wrung her hands. "Discovered!" she groaned. "Yet no--he is one
+of us! Reveal it not, oh Man! Let it bide its time!"
+
+"Reveal what not?" her husband testily replied, dragging out the sheet
+of brown paper. "What are you hiding here, my Lady? I insist upon
+knowing!"
+
+My Lady cast down her eyes, and spoke in the littlest of little voices.
+"Don't make fun of it, Benjamin!" she pleaded. "It's--it's---don't you
+understand? It's a DAGGER!"
+
+"And what's that for?" sneered His Excellency. "We've only got to make
+people think he's dead! We haven't got to kill him! And made of tin,
+too!" he snarled, contemptuously bending the blade round his thumb.
+"Now, Madam, you'll be good enough to explain. First, what do you call
+me Benjamin for?"
+
+"It's part of the Conspiracy, Love! One must have an alias, you know--"
+
+"Oh, an alias, is it? Well! And next, what did you get this dagger for?
+Come, no evasions! You ca'n't deceive me!"
+
+"I got it for--for--for--" the detected Conspirator stammered, trying
+her best to put on the assassin-expression that she had been practising
+at the looking-glass. "For--"
+
+"For what, Madam!"
+
+"Well, for eighteenpence, if you must know, dearest! That's what I got
+it for, on my--"
+
+"Now don't say your Word and Honour!" groaned the other Conspirator.
+"Why, they aren't worth half the money, put together!"
+
+"On my birthday," my Lady concluded in a meek whisper. "One must have a
+dagger, you know. It's part of the--"
+
+"Oh, don't talk of Conspiracies!" her husband savagely interrupted, as
+he tossed the dagger into the cupboard. "You know about as much how to
+manage a Conspiracy as if you were a chicken. Why, the first thing is to
+get a disguise. Now, just look at this!"
+
+And with pardonable pride he fitted on the cap and bells, and the rest
+of the Fool's dress, and winked at her, and put his tongue in his cheek.
+"Is that the sort of thing, now." he demanded.
+
+My Lady's eyes flashed with all a Conspirator's enthusiasm. "The very
+thing!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "You do look, oh, such a
+perfect Fool!"
+
+The Fool smiled a doubtful smile. He was not quite clear whether it was
+a compliment or not, to express it so plainly. "You mean a Jester? Yes,
+that's what I intended. And what do you think your disguise is to be?"
+And he proceeded to unfold the parcel, the lady watching him in rapture.
+
+"Oh, how lovely!" she cried, when at last the dress was unfolded. "What
+a splendid disguise! An Esquimaux peasant-woman!"
+
+"An Esquimaux peasant, indeed!" growled the other. "Here, put it on,
+and look at yourself in the glass. Why, it's a Bear, ca'n't you use your
+eyes?" He checked himself suddenly, as a harsh voice yelled through the
+room,
+
+
+    "He looked again, and found it was
+    A Bear without a Head!"
+
+But it was only the Gardener, singing under the open window. The
+Vice-Warden stole on tip-toe to the window, and closed it noiselessly,
+before he ventured to go on. "Yes, Lovey, a Bear: but not without a
+head, I hope! You're the Bear, and me the Keeper. And if any one knows
+us, they'll have sharp eyes, that's all!"
+
+"I shall have to practise the steps a bit," my Lady said, looking out
+through the Bear's mouth: "one ca'n't help being rather human just at
+first, you know. And of course you'll say 'Come up, Bruin!', won't you?"
+
+"Yes, of course," replied the Keeper, laying hold of the chain, that
+hung from the Bear's collar, with one hand, while with the other he
+cracked a little whip. "Now go round the room in a sort of a dancing
+attitude. Very good, my dear, very good. Come up, Bruin! Come up, I
+say!"
+
+{Image...'Come up, bruin!'}
+
+He roared out the last words for the benefit of Uggug, who had just come
+into the room, and was now standing, with his hands spread out, and eyes
+and mouth wide open, the very picture of stupid amazement. "Oh, my!" was
+all he could gasp out.
+
+The Keeper pretended to be adjusting the bear's collar, which gave him
+an opportunity of whispering, unheard by Uggug, "my fault, I'm afraid!
+Quite forgot to fasten the door. Plot's ruined if he finds it out! Keep
+it up a minute or two longer. Be savage!" Then, while seeming to pull
+it back with all his strength, he let it advance upon the scared boy:
+my Lady, with admirable presence of mind, kept up what she no doubt
+intended for a savage growl, though it was more like the purring of a
+cat: and Uggug backed out of the room with such haste that he tripped
+over the mat, and was heard to fall heavily outside--an accident to
+which even his doting mother paid no heed, in the excitement of the
+moment.
+
+The Vice-Warden shut and bolted the door. "Off with the disguises!" he
+panted. "There's not a moment to lose. He's sure to fetch the Professor,
+and we couldn't take him in, you know!" And in another minute the
+disguises were stowed away in the cupboard, the door unbolted, and the
+two Conspirators seated lovingly side-by-side on the sofa, earnestly
+discussing a book the Vice-Warden had hastily snatched off the table,
+which proved to be the City-Directory of the capital of Outland.
+
+The door opened, very slowly and cautiously, and the Professor peeped
+in, Uggug's stupid face being just visible behind him.
+
+"It is a beautiful arrangement!" the Vice-warden was saying with
+enthusiasm. "You see, my precious one, that there are fifteen houses in
+Green Street, before you turn into West Street."
+
+"Fifteen houses! Is it possible?" my Lady replied. "I thought it was
+fourteen!" And, so intent were they on this interesting question, that
+neither of them even looked up till the Professor, leading Uggug by the
+hand, stood close before them.
+
+My Lady was the first to notice their approach. "Why, here's the
+Professor!" she exclaimed in her blandest tones. "And my precious child
+too! Are lessons over?"
+
+"A strange thing has happened!" the Professor began in a trembling tone.
+"His Exalted Fatness" (this was one of Uggug's many titles) "tells me he
+has just seen, in this very room, a Dancing-Bear and a Court-Jester!"
+
+The Vice-Warden and his wife shook with well-acted merriment.
+
+"Not in this room, darling!" said the fond mother. "We've been sitting
+here this hour or more, reading--," here she referred to the book lying
+on her lap, "--reading the--the City-Directory."
+
+"Let me feel your pulse, my boy!" said the anxious father. "Now put out
+your tongue. Ah, I thought so! He's a little feverish, Professor, and
+has had a bad dream. Put him to bed at once, and give him a cooling
+draught."
+
+"I ain't been dreaming!" his Exalted Fatness remonstrated, as the
+Professor led him away.
+
+"Bad grammar, Sir!" his father remarked with some sternness. "Kindly
+attend to that little matter, Professor, as soon as you have corrected
+the feverishness. And, by the way, Professor!" (The Professor left his
+distinguished pupil standing at the door, and meekly returned.) "There
+is a rumour afloat, that the people wish to elect an--in point of fact,
+an--you understand that I mean an--"
+
+"Not another Professor!" the poor old man exclaimed in horror.
+
+"No! Certainly not!" the Vice-Warden eagerly explained. "Merely an
+Emperor, you understand."
+
+"An Emperor!" cried the astonished Professor, holding his head between
+his hands, as if he expected it to come to pieces with the shock. "What
+will the Warden--"
+
+"Why, the Warden will most likely be the new Emperor!" my Lady
+explained. "Where could we find a better? Unless, perhaps--" she glanced
+at her husband.
+
+"Where indeed!" the Professor fervently responded, quite failing to take
+the hint.
+
+The Vice-Warden resumed the thread of his discourse. "The reason I
+mentioned it, Professor, was to ask you to be so kind as to preside at
+the Election. You see it would make the thing respectable--no suspicion
+of anything, underhand--"
+
+"I fear I ca'n't, your Excellency!" the old man faltered. "What will the
+Warden--"
+
+"True, true!" the Vice-Warden interrupted. "Your position, as
+Court-Professor, makes it awkward, I admit. Well, well! Then the
+Election shall be held without you."
+
+"Better so, than if it were held within me!" the Professor murmured with
+a bewildered air, as if he hardly knew what he was saying. "Bed, I think
+your Highness said, and a cooling-draught?" And he wandered dreamily
+back to where Uggug sulkily awaited him.
+
+I followed them out of the room, and down the passage, the Professor
+murmuring to himself, all the time, as a kind of aid to his feeble
+memory, "C, C, C; Couch, Cooling-Draught, Correct-Grammar," till, in
+turning a corner, he met Sylvie and Bruno, so suddenly that the startled
+Professor let go of his fat pupil, who instantly took to his heels.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 10. THE OTHER PROFESSOR.
+
+"We were looking for you!" cried Sylvie, in a tone of great relief. "We
+do want you so much, you ca'n't think!"
+
+"What is it, dear children?" the Professor asked, beaming on them with a
+very different look from what Uggug ever got from him.
+
+"We want you to speak to the Gardener for us," Sylvie said, as she and
+Bruno took the old man's hands and led him into the hall.
+
+"He's ever so unkind!" Bruno mournfully added. "They's all unkind to us,
+now that Father's gone. The Lion were much nicer!"
+
+"But you must explain to me, please," the Professor said with an anxious
+look, "which is the Lion, and which is the Gardener. It's most important
+not to get two such animals confused together. And one's very liable to
+do it in their case--both having mouths, you know--"
+
+"Doos oo always confuses two animals together?" Bruno asked.
+
+"Pretty often, I'm afraid," the Professor candidly confessed. "Now, for
+instance, there's the rabbit-hutch and the hall-clock." The Professor
+pointed them out. "One gets a little confused with them--both having
+doors, you know. Now, only yesterday--would you believe it?--I put some
+lettuces into the clock, and tried to wind up the rabbit!"
+
+"Did the rabbit go, after oo wounded it up?" said Bruno.
+
+The Professor clasped his hands on the top of his head, and groaned.
+"Go? I should think it did go! Why, it's gone? And where ever it's gone
+to--that's what I ca'n't find out! I've done my best--I've read all the
+article 'Rabbit' in the great dictionary--Come in!"
+
+"Only the tailor, Sir, with your little bill," said a meek voice outside
+the door.
+
+"Ah, well, I can soon settle his business," the Professor said to the
+children, "if you'll just wait a minute. How much is it, this year, my
+man?" The tailor had come in while he was speaking.
+
+"Well, it's been a doubling so many years, you see," the tailor replied,
+a little gruffly, "and I think I'd like the money now. It's two thousand
+pound, it is!"
+
+"Oh, that's nothing!" the Professor carelessly remarked, feeling in his
+pocket, as if he always carried at least that amount about with him.
+"But wouldn't you like to wait just another year, and make it four
+thousand? Just think how rich you'd be! Why, you might be a King, if you
+liked!"
+
+"I don't know as I'd care about being a King," the man said
+thoughtfully. "But it; dew sound a powerful sight o' money! Well, I
+think I'll wait--"
+
+"Of course you will!" said the Professor. "There's good sense in you, I
+see. Good-day to you, my man!"
+
+"Will you ever have to pay him that four thousand pounds?" Sylvie asked
+as the door closed on the departing creditor.
+
+"Never, my child!" the Professor replied emphatically. "He'll go on
+doubling it, till he dies. You see it's always worth while waiting
+another year, to get twice as much money! And now what would you like to
+do, my little friends? Shall I take you to see the Other Professor?
+This would be an excellent opportunity for a visit," he said to himself,
+glancing at his watch: "he generally takes a short rest--of fourteen
+minutes and a half--about this time."
+
+Bruno hastily went round to Sylvie, who was standing at the other side
+of the Professor, and put his hand into hers. "I thinks we'd like to
+go," he said doubtfully: "only please let's go all together. It's best
+to be on the safe side, oo know!"
+
+"Why, you talk as if you were Sylvie!" exclaimed the Professor.
+
+"I know I did," Bruno replied very humbly. "I quite forgotted I wasn't
+Sylvie. Only I fought he might be rarver fierce!"
+
+The Professor laughed a jolly laugh. "Oh, he's quite tame!" he said.
+"He never bites. He's only a little--a little dreamy, you know." He took
+hold of Bruno's other hand; and led the children down a long passage
+I had never noticed before--not that there was anything remarkable
+in that: I was constantly coming on new rooms and passages in that
+mysterious Palace, and very seldom succeeded in finding the old ones
+again.
+
+Near the end of the passage the Professor stopped. "This is his room,"
+he said, pointing to the solid wall.
+
+"We ca'n't get in through there!" Bruno exclaimed.
+
+Sylvie said nothing, till she had carefully examined whether the wall
+opened anywhere. Then she laughed merrily. "You're playing us a trick,
+you dear old thing!" she said. "There's no door here!"
+
+"There isn't any door to the room," said the Professor. "We shall have
+to climb in at the window."
+
+So we went into the garden, and soon found the window of the Other
+Professor's room. It was a ground-floor window, and stood invitingly
+open: the Professor first lifted the two children in, and then he and I
+climbed in after them.
+
+{Image...The other professor}
+
+The Other Professor was seated at a table, with a large book open before
+him, on which his forehead was resting: he had clasped his arms round
+the book, and was snoring heavily. "He usually reads like that,"
+the Professor remarked, "when the book's very interesting: and then
+sometimes it's very difficult to get him to attend!"
+
+This seemed to be one of the difficult times: the Professor lifted him
+up, once or twice, and shook him violently: but he always returned to
+his book the moment he was let go of, and showed by his heavy breathing
+that the book was as interesting as ever.
+
+"How dreamy he is!" the Professor exclaimed. "He must have got to a very
+interesting part of the book!" And he rained quite a shower of thumps on
+the Other Professor's back, shouting "Hoy! Hoy!" all the time. "Isn't it
+wonderful that he should be so dreamy?" he said to Bruno.
+
+"If he's always as sleepy as that," Bruno remarked, "a course he's
+dreamy!"
+
+"But what are we to do?" said the Professor. "You see he's quite wrapped
+up in the book!"
+
+"Suppose oo shuts the book?" Bruno suggested.
+
+"That's it!" cried the delighted Professor. "Of course that'll do it!"
+And he shut up the book so quickly that he caught the Other Professor's
+nose between the leaves, and gave it a severe pinch.
+
+The Other Professor instantly rose to his feet, and carried the book
+away to the end of the room, where he put it back in its place in the
+book-case. "I've been reading for eighteen hours and three-quarters,"
+he said, "and now I shall rest for fourteen minutes and a half. Is the
+Lecture all ready?"
+
+"Very nearly," the Professor humbly replied. "I shall ask you to give me
+a hint or two--there will be a few little difficulties--"
+
+"And Banquet, I think you said?"
+
+"Oh, yes! The Banquet comes first, of course. People never enjoy
+Abstract Science, you know, when they're ravenous with hunger. And then
+there's the Fancy-Dress-Ball. Oh, there'll be lots of entertainment!"
+
+"Where will the Ball come in?" said the Other Professor.
+
+"I think it had better come at the beginning of the Banquet--it brings
+people together so nicely, you know."
+
+"Yes, that's the right order. First the Meeting: then the Eating: then
+the Treating--for I'm sure any Lecture you give us will be a treat!"
+said the Other Professor, who had been standing with his back to us all
+this time, occupying himself in taking the books out, one by one, and
+turning them upside-down. An easel, with a black board on it, stood near
+him: and, every time that he turned a book upside-down, he made a mark
+on the board with a piece of chalk.
+
+"And as to the 'Pig-Tale'--which you have so kindly promised to give
+us--" the Professor went on, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I think
+that had better come at the end of the Banquet: then people can listen
+to it quietly."
+
+"Shall I sing it?" the Other Professor asked, with a smile of delight.
+
+"If you can," the Professor replied, cautiously.
+
+"Let me try," said the Other Professor, seating himself at the
+pianoforte. "For the sake of argument, let us assume that it begins on
+A flat." And he struck the note in question. "La, la, la! I think that's
+within an octave of it." He struck the note again, and appealed to
+Bruno, who was standing at his side. "Did I sing it like that, my
+child?"
+
+"No, oo didn't," Bruno replied with great decision. "It were more like a
+duck."
+
+"Single notes are apt to have that effect," the Other Professor said
+with a sigh. "Let me try a whole verse,
+
+
+   There was a Pig, that sat alone,
+   Beside a ruined Pump.
+   By day and night he made his moan:
+   It would have stirred a heart of stone
+   To see him wring his hoofs and groan,
+   Because he could not jump.
+
+Would you call that a tune, Professor?" he asked, when he had finished.
+
+The Professor considered a little. "Well," he said at last, "some of the
+notes are the same as others and some are different but I should hardly
+call it a tune."
+
+"Let me try it a bit by myself," said the Other Professor. And he began
+touching the notes here and there, and humming to himself like an angry
+bluebottle.
+
+"How do you like his singing?" the Professor asked the children in a low
+voice.
+
+"It isn't very beautiful," Sylvie said, hesitatingly.
+
+"It's very extremely ugly!" Bruno said, without any hesitation at all.
+
+"All extremes are bad," the Professor said, very gravely. "For instance,
+Sobriety is a very good thing, when practised in moderation: but even
+Sobriety, when carried to an extreme, has its disadvantages."
+
+"What are its disadvantages?" was the question that rose in my
+mind--and, as usual, Bruno asked it for me. "What are its lizard
+bandages?'
+
+"Well, this is one of them," said the Professor. "When a man's tipsy
+(that's one extreme, you know), he sees one thing as two. But, when he's
+extremely sober (that's the other extreme), he sees two things as one.
+It's equally inconvenient, whichever happens.
+
+"What does 'illconvenient' mean?" Bruno whispered to Sylvie.
+
+"The difference between 'convenient' and 'inconvenient' is best
+explained by an example," said the Other Professor, who had overheard
+the question. "If you'll just think over any Poem that contains the two
+words--such as--"
+
+The Professor put his hands over his ears, with a look of dismay. "If
+you once let him begin a Poem," he said to Sylvie, "he'll never leave
+off again! He never does!"
+
+"Did he ever begin a Poem and not leave off again?" Sylvie enquired.
+
+"Three times," said the Professor.
+
+Bruno raised himself on tiptoe, till his lips were on a level with
+Sylvie's ear. "What became of them three Poems?" he whispered. "Is he
+saying them all, now?"
+
+"Hush!" said Sylvie. "The Other Professor is speaking!"
+
+"I'll say it very quick," murmured the Other Professor, with downcast
+eyes, and melancholy voice, which contrasted oddly with his face, as
+he had forgotten to leave off smiling. ("At least it wasn't exactly a
+smile,") as Sylvie said afterwards: "it looked as if his mouth was made
+that shape."
+
+"Go on then," said the Professor. "What must be must be."
+
+"Remember that!" Sylvie whispered to Bruno, "It's a very good rule for
+whenever you hurt yourself."
+
+"And it's a very good rule for whenever I make a noise," said the saucy
+little fellow. "So you remember it too, Miss!"
+
+"Whatever do you mean?" said Sylvie, trying to frown, a thing she never
+managed particularly well.
+
+"Oftens and oftens," said Bruno, "haven't oo told me 'There mustn't
+be so much noise, Bruno!' when I've tolded oo 'There must!' Why, there
+isn't no rules at all about 'There mustn't'! But oo never believes me!"
+
+"As if any one could believe you, you wicked wicked boy!" said Sylvie.
+The words were severe enough, but I am of opinion that, when you are
+really anxious to impress a criminal with a sense of his guilt, you
+ought not to pronounce the sentence with your lips quite close to his
+cheek--since a kiss at the end of it, however accidental, weakens the
+effect terribly.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 11. PETER AND PAUL.
+
+"As I was saying," the other Professor resumed, "if you'll just think
+over any Poem, that contains the words--such as,
+
+
+   'Peter is poor,' said noble Paul,
+   'And I have always been his friend:
+    And, though my means to give are small,
+    At least I can afford to lend.
+    How few, in this cold age of greed,
+    Do good, except on selfish grounds!
+    But I can feel for Peter's need,
+    And I WILL LEND HIM FIFTY POUNDS!'
+
+    How great was Peter's joy to find
+    His friend in such a genial vein!
+    How cheerfully the bond he signed,
+    To pay the money back again!
+    'We ca'n't,' said Paul, 'be too precise:
+    'Tis best to fix the very day:
+    So, by a learned friend's advice,
+    I've made it Noon, the Fourth of May.
+
+{Image...'How cheefully the bond he signed!'}
+
+
+    But this is April!  Peter said.
+    'The First of April, as I think.
+    Five little weeks will soon be fled:
+    One scarcely will have time to wink!
+    Give me a year to speculate--
+    To buy and sell--to drive a trade--'
+    Said Paul 'I cannot change the date.
+    On May the Fourth it must be paid.'
+
+    'Well, well!' said Peter, with a sigh.
+    'Hand me the cash, and I will go.
+    I'll form a Joint-Stock Company,
+    And turn an honest pound or so.'
+    'I'm grieved,' said Paul, 'to seem unkind:
+    The money shalt of course be lent:
+    But, for a week or two, I find
+    It will not be convenient.'
+
+    So, week by week, poor Peter came
+    And turned in heaviness away;
+    For still the answer was the same,
+    'I cannot manage it to-day.'
+    And now the April showers were dry--
+    The five short weeks were nearly spent--
+    Yet still he got the old reply,
+    'It is not quite convenient!'
+
+    The Fourth arrived, and punctual Paul
+    Came, with his legal friend, at noon.
+    'I thought it best,' said he, 'to call:
+    One cannot settle things too soon.'
+    Poor Peter shuddered in despair:
+    His flowing locks he wildly tore:
+    And very soon his yellow hair
+    Was lying all about the floor.
+
+    The legal friend was standing by,
+    With sudden pity half unmanned:
+    The tear-drop trembled in his eye,
+    The signed agreement in his hand:
+    But when at length the legal soul
+    Resumed its customary force,
+    'The Law,' he said, 'we ca'n't control:
+    Pay, or the Law must take its course!'
+
+    Said Paul 'How bitterly I rue
+    That fatal morning when I called!
+    Consider, Peter, what you do!
+    You won't be richer when you're bald!
+    Think you, by rending curls away,
+    To make your difficulties less?
+    Forbear this violence, I pray:
+    You do but add to my distress!'
+
+{Image...'Poor peter shuddered in despair'}
+
+
+    'Not willingly would I inflict,'
+    Said Peter, 'on that noble heart
+    One needless pang.  Yet why so strict?
+    Is this to act a friendly part?
+    However legal it may be
+    To pay what never has been lent,
+    This style of business seems to me
+    Extremely inconvenient!
+
+    'No Nobleness of soul have I,
+    Like some that in this Age are found!'
+    (Paul blushed in sheer humility,
+    And cast his eyes upon the ground)
+    'This debt will simply swallow all,
+    And make my life a life of woe!'
+    'Nay, nay, nay Peter!' answered Paul.
+    'You must not rail on Fortune so!
+
+    'You have enough to eat and drink:
+    You are respected in the world:
+    And at the barber's, as I think,
+    You often get your whiskers curled.
+    Though Nobleness you ca'n't attain
+    To any very great extent--
+    The path of Honesty is plain,
+    However inconvenient!'
+
+    "Tis true, 'said Peter,' I'm alive:
+    I keep my station in the world:
+    Once in the week I just contrive
+    To get my whiskers oiled and curled.
+    But my assets are very low:
+    My little income's overspent:
+    To trench on capital, you know,
+    Is always inconvenient!'
+
+    'But pay your debts!' cried honest Paul.
+    'My gentle Peter, pay your debts!
+    What matter if it swallows all
+    That you describe as your "assets"?
+    Already you're an hour behind:
+    Yet Generosity is best.
+    It pinches me--but never mind!
+    I WILL NOT CHARGE YOU INTEREST!'
+
+    'How good!  How great!' poor Peter cried.
+    'Yet I must sell my Sunday wig--
+    The scarf-pin that has been my pride--
+    My grand piano--and my pig!'
+    Full soon his property took wings:
+    And daily, as each treasure went,
+    He sighed to find the state of things
+    Grow less and less convenient.
+
+    Weeks grew to months, and months to years:
+    Peter was worn to skin and bone:
+    And once he even said, with tears,
+    'Remember, Paul, that promised Loan!'
+    Said Paul' I'll lend you, when I can,
+    All the spare money I have got--
+    Ah, Peter, you're a happy man!
+    Yours is an enviable lot!
+
+{Image...Such boots as these you seldom see}
+
+
+    'I'm getting stout, as you may see:
+    It is but seldom I am well:
+    I cannot feel my ancient glee
+    In listening to the dinner-bell:
+    But you, you gambol like a boy,
+    Your figure is so spare and light:
+    The dinner-bell's a note of joy
+    To such a healthy appetite!'
+
+    Said Peter 'I am well aware
+    Mine is a state of happiness:
+    And yet how gladly could I spare
+    Some of the comforts I possess!
+    What you call healthy appetite
+    I feel as Hunger's savage tooth:
+    And, when no dinner is in sight,
+    The dinner-bell's a sound of ruth!
+
+    'No scare-crow would accept this coat:
+    Such boots as these you seldom see.
+    Ah, Paul, a single five-pound-note
+    Would make another man of me!'
+    Said Paul 'It fills me with surprise
+    To hear you talk in such a tone:
+    I fear you scarcely realise
+    The blessings that are all your own!
+
+    'You're safe from being overfed:
+    You're sweetly picturesque in rags:
+    You never know the aching head
+    That comes along with money-bags:
+    And you have time to cultivate
+    That best of qualities, Content--
+    For which you'll find your present state
+    Remarkably convenient!'
+
+    Said Peter 'Though I cannot sound
+    The depths of such a man as you,
+    Yet in your character I've found
+    An inconsistency or two.
+    You seem to have long years to spare
+    When there's a promise to fulfil:
+    And yet how punctual you were
+    In calling with that little bill!'
+
+    'One can't be too deliberate,'
+    Said Paul, 'in parting with one's pelf.
+    With bills, as you correctly state,
+    I'm punctuality itself:
+    A man may surely claim his dues:
+    But, when there's money to be lent,
+    A man must be allowed to choose
+    Such times as are convenient!'
+
+    It chanced one day, as Peter sat
+    Gnawing a crust--his usual meal--
+    Paul bustled in to have a chat,
+    And grasped his hand with friendly zeal.
+    'I knew,' said he, 'your frugal ways:
+    So, that I might not wound your pride
+    By bringing strangers in to gaze,
+    I've left my legal friend outside!
+
+    'You well remember, I am sure,
+    When first your wealth began to go,
+    And people sneered at one so poor,
+    I never used my Peter so!
+    And when you'd lost your little all,
+    And found yourself a thing despised,
+    I need not ask you to recall
+    How tenderly I sympathised!
+
+    'Then the advice I've poured on you,
+    So full of wisdom and of wit:
+    All given gratis, though 'tis true
+    I might have fairly charged for it!
+    But I refrain from mentioning
+    Full many a deed I might relate
+    For boasting is a kind of thing
+    That I particularly hate.
+
+{Image...'I will lend you fifty more!'}
+
+
+    'How vast the total sum appears
+    Of all the kindnesses I've done,
+    From Childhood's half-forgotten years
+    Down to that Loan of April One!
+    That Fifty Pounds!  You little guessed
+    How deep it drained my slender store:
+    But there's a heart within this breast,
+    And I WILL LEND YOU FIFTY MORE!'
+
+    'Not so,' was Peter's mild reply,
+    His cheeks all wet with grateful tears;
+    No man recalls, so well as I,
+    Your services in bygone years:
+    And this new offer, I admit,
+    Is very very kindly meant--
+    Still, to avail myself of it
+    Would not be quite convenient!'
+
+You'll see in a moment what the difference is between 'convenient'
+and 'inconvenient.' You quite understand it now, don't you?" he added,
+looking kindly at Bruno, who was sitting, at Sylvie's side, on the
+floor.
+
+"Yes," said Bruno, very quietly. Such a short speech was very unusual,
+for him: but just then he seemed, I fancied, a little exhausted. In
+fact, he climbed up into Sylvie's lap as he spoke, and rested his head
+against her shoulder. "What a many verses it was!" he whispered.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 12. A MUSICAL GARDENER.
+
+The Other Professor regarded him with some anxiety. "The smaller animal
+ought to go to bed at once," he said with an air of authority.
+
+"Why at once?" said the Professor.
+
+"Because he can't go at twice," said the Other Professor.
+
+The Professor gently clapped his hands. "Isn't he wonderful!" he said to
+Sylvie. "Nobody else could have thought of the reason, so quick. Why, of
+course he ca'n't go at twice! It would hurt him to be divided."
+
+This remark woke up Bruno, suddenly and completely. "I don't want to be
+divided," he said decisively.
+
+"It does very well on a diagram," said the Other Professor. "I could
+show it you in a minute, only the chalk's a little blunt."
+
+"Take care!" Sylvie anxiously exclaimed, as he began, rather clumsily,
+to point it. "You'll cut your finger off, if you hold the knife so!"
+
+"If oo cuts it off, will oo give it to me, please? Bruno thoughtfully
+added.
+
+"It's like this," said the Other Professor, hastily drawing a long line
+upon the black board, and marking the letters 'A,' 'B,' at the two
+ends, and 'C' in the middle: "let me explain it to you. If AB were to be
+divided into two parts at C--"
+
+"It would be drownded," Bruno pronounced confidently.
+
+The Other Professor gasped. "What would be drownded?"
+
+"Why the bumble-bee, of course!" said Bruno. "And the two bits would
+sink down in the sea!"
+
+Here the Professor interfered, as the Other Professor was evidently too
+much puzzled to go on with his diagram.
+
+"When I said it would hurt him, I was merely referring to the action of
+the nerves--"
+
+The Other Professor brightened up in a moment. "The action of the
+nerves," he began eagerly, "is curiously slow in some people. I had a
+friend, once, that, if you burnt him with a red-hot poker, it would take
+years and years before he felt it!"
+
+"And if you only pinched him?" queried Sylvie.
+
+"Then it would take ever so much longer, of course. In fact, I doubt if
+the man himself would ever feel it, at all. His grandchildren might."
+
+"I wouldn't like to be the grandchild of a pinched grandfather, would
+you, Mister Sir?" Bruno whispered. "It might come just when you wanted
+to be happy!"
+
+That would be awkward, I admitted, taking it quite as a matter of course
+that he had so suddenly caught sight of me. "But don't you always want
+to be happy, Bruno?"
+
+"Not always," Bruno said thoughtfully. "Sometimes, when I's too happy,
+I wants to be a little miserable. Then I just tell Sylvie about it, oo
+know, and Sylvie sets me some lessons. Then it's all right."
+
+"I'm sorry you don't like lessons," I said.
+
+"You should copy Sylvie. She's always as busy as the day is long!"
+
+"Well, so am I!" said Bruno.
+
+"No, no!" Sylvie corrected him. "You're as busy as the day is short!"
+
+"Well, what's the difference?" Bruno asked. "Mister Sir, isn't the day
+as short as it's long? I mean, isn't it the same length?"
+
+Never having considered the question in this light, I suggested that
+they had better ask the Professor; and they ran off in a moment to
+appeal to their old friend. The Professor left off polishing his
+spectacles to consider. "My dears," he said after a minute, "the day
+is the same length as anything that is the same length as it." And he
+resumed his never-ending task of polishing.
+
+The children returned, slowly and thoughtfully, to report his answer.
+"Isn't he wise?"
+
+Sylvie asked in an awestruck whisper. "If I was as wise as that, I
+should have a head-ache all day long. I know I should!"
+
+"You appear to be talking to somebody--that isn't here," the Professor
+said, turning round to the children. "Who is it?"
+
+Bruno looked puzzled. "I never talks to nobody when he isn't here!" he
+replied. "It isn't good manners. Oo should always wait till he comes,
+before oo talks to him!"
+
+The Professor looked anxiously in my direction, and seemed to look
+through and through me without seeing me. "Then who are you talking to?"
+he said. "There isn't anybody here, you know, except the Other Professor
+and he isn't here!" he added wildly, turning round and round like a
+teetotum. "Children! Help to look for him! Quick! He's got lost again!"
+
+The children were on their feet in a moment.
+
+"Where shall we look?" said Sylvie.
+
+"Anywhere!" shouted the excited Professor. "Only be quick about it!" And
+he began trotting round and round the room, lifting up the chairs, and
+shaking them.
+
+Bruno took a very small book out of the bookcase, opened it, and shook
+it in imitation of the Professor. "He isn't here," he said.
+
+"He ca'n't be there, Bruno!" Sylvie said indignantly.
+
+"Course he ca'n't!" said Bruno. "I should have shooked him out, if he'd
+been in there!"
+
+"Has he ever been lost before?" Sylvie enquired, turning up a corner of
+the hearth-rug, and peeping under it.
+
+"Once before," said the Professor: "he once lost himself in a wood--"
+
+"And couldn't he find his-self again?" said Bruno. "Why didn't he shout?
+He'd be sure to hear his-self, 'cause he couldn't be far off, oo know."
+
+"Lets try shouting," said the Professor.
+
+"What shall we shout?" said Sylvie.
+
+"On second thoughts, don't shout," the Professor replied. "The
+Vice-Warden might hear you. He's getting awfully strict!"
+
+This reminded the poor children of all the troubles, about which they
+had come to their old friend. Bruno sat down on the floor and began
+crying. "He is so cruel!" he sobbed. "And he lets Uggug take away all my
+toys! And such horrid meals!"
+
+"What did you have for dinner to-day?" said the Professor.
+
+"A little piece of a dead crow," was Bruno's mournful reply.
+
+"He means rook-pie," Sylvie explained.
+
+"It were a dead crow," Bruno persisted. "And there were a
+apple-pudding--and Uggug ate it all--and I got nuffin but a crust! And
+I asked for a orange--and--didn't get it!" And the poor little fellow
+buried his face in Sylvie's lap, who kept gently stroking his hair as
+she went on. "It's all true, Professor dear! They do treat my darling
+Bruno very badly! And they're not kind to me either," she added in a
+lower tone, as if that were a thing of much less importance.
+
+The Professor got out a large red silk handkerchief, and wiped his eyes.
+"I wish I could help you, dear children!" he said. "But what can I do?"
+
+"We know the way to Fairyland--where Father's gone--quite well," said
+Sylvie: "if only the Gardener would let us out."
+
+"Won't he open the door for you?" said the Professor.
+
+"Not for us," said Sylvie: "but I'm sure he would for you. Do come and
+ask him, Professor dear!"
+
+"I'll come this minute!" said the Professor.
+
+Bruno sat up and dried his eyes. "Isn't he kind, Mister Sir?"
+
+"He is indeed," said I. But the Professor took no notice of my remark.
+He had put on a beautiful cap with a long tassel, and was selecting one
+of the Other Professor's walking-sticks, from a stand in the corner of
+the room. "A thick stick in one's hand makes people respectful," he was
+saying to himself. "Come along, dear children!" And we all went out into
+the garden together.
+
+"I shall address him, first of all," the Professor explained as we went
+along, "with a few playful remarks on the weather. I shall then question
+him about the Other Professor. This will have a double advantage. First,
+it will open the conversation (you can't even drink a bottle of
+wine without opening it first): and secondly, if he's seen the Other
+Professor, we shall find him that way: and, if he hasn't, we sha'n't."
+
+On our way, we passed the target, at which Uggug had been made to shoot
+during the Ambassador's visit.
+
+"See!" said the Professor, pointing out a hole in the middle of the
+bull's-eye. "His Imperial Fatness had only one shot at it; and he went
+in just here!"
+
+Bruno carefully examined the hole. "Couldn't go in there," he whispered
+to me. "He are too fat!"
+
+We had no sort of difficulty in finding the Gardener. Though he was
+hidden from us by some trees, that harsh voice of his served to direct
+us; and, as we drew nearer, the words of his song became more and more
+plainly audible:--
+
+
+    "He thought he saw an Albatross
+    That fluttered round the lamp:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A Penny-Postage-Stamp.
+    'You'd best be getting home,' he said:
+    'The nights are very damp!'"
+
+{Image...He thought he saw an albatross}
+
+"Would it be afraid of catching cold?" said Bruno.
+
+"If it got very damp," Sylvie suggested, "it might stick to something,
+you know."
+
+"And that somefin would have to go by the post, what ever it was!" Bruno
+eagerly exclaimed. "Suppose it was a cow! Wouldn't it be dreadful for
+the other things!"
+
+"And all these things happened to him," said the Professor. "That's what
+makes the song so interesting."
+
+"He must have had a very curious life," said Sylvie.
+
+"You may say that!" the Professor heartily rejoined.
+
+"Of course she may!" cried Bruno.
+
+By this time we had come up to the Gardener, who was standing on one
+leg, as usual, and busily employed in watering a bed of flowers with an
+empty watering-can.
+
+"It hasn't got no water in it!" Bruno explained to him, pulling his
+sleeve to attract his attention.
+
+"It's lighter to hold," said the Gardener. "A lot of water in it makes
+one's arms ache." And he went on with his work, singing softly to
+himself,
+
+
+     "The nights are very damp!"
+
+"In digging things out of the ground which you probably do now and
+then," the Professor began in a loud voice; "in making things into
+heaps--which no doubt you often do; and in kicking things about with one
+heel--which you seem never to leave off doing; have you ever happened to
+notice another Professor something like me, but different?"
+
+"Never!" shouted the Gardener, so loudly and violently that we all drew
+back in alarm. "There ain't such a thing!"
+
+"We will try a less exciting topic," the Professor mildly remarked to
+the children. "You were asking--"
+
+"We asked him to let us through the garden-door," said Sylvie: "but he
+wouldn't: but perhaps he would for you!"
+
+The Professor put the request, very humbly and courteously.
+
+"I wouldn't mind letting you out," said the Gardener. "But I mustn't
+open the door for children. D'you think I'd disobey the Rules? Not for
+one-and-sixpence!"
+
+The Professor cautiously produced a couple of shillings.
+
+"That'll do it!" the Gardener shouted, as he hurled the watering-can
+across the flower-bed, and produced a handful of keys--one large one,
+and a number of small ones.
+
+"But look here, Professor dear!" whispered Sylvie. "He needn't open the
+door for us, at all. We can go out with you."
+
+"True, dear child!" the Professor thankfully replied, as he replaced
+the coins in his pocket. "That saves two shillings!" And he took the
+children's hands, that they might all go out together when the door
+was opened. This, however, did not seem a very likely event, though the
+Gardener patiently tried all the small keys, over and over again.
+
+At last the Professor ventured on a gentle suggestion. "Why not try the
+large one? I have often observed that a door unlocks much more nicely
+with its own key."
+
+The very first trial of the large key proved a success: the Gardener
+opened the door, and held out his hand for the money.
+
+The Professor shook his head. "You are acting by Rule," he explained,
+"in opening the door for me. And now it's open, we are going out by
+Rule--the Rule of Three."
+
+The Gardener looked puzzled, and let us go out; but, as he locked the
+door behind us, we heard him singing thoughtfully to himself,
+
+
+    "He thought he saw a Garden-Door
+    That opened with a key:
+    He looked again, and found it was
+    A Double Rule of Three:
+    'And all its mystery,' he said,
+    'Is clear as day to me!'"
+
+"I shall now return," said the Professor, when we had walked a few
+yards: "you see, it's impossible to read here, for all my books are in
+the house."
+
+But the children still kept fast hold of his hands. "Do come with us!"
+Sylvie entreated with tears in her eyes.
+
+"Well, well!" said the good-natured old man. "Perhaps I'll come after
+you, some day soon. But I must go back now. You see I left off at
+a comma, and it's so awkward not knowing how the sentence finishes!
+Besides, you've got to go through Dogland first, and I'm always a little
+nervous about dogs. But it'll be quite easy to come, as soon as I've
+completed my new invention--for carrying one's-self, you know. It wants
+just a little more working out."
+
+"Won't that be very tiring, to carry yourself?" Sylvie enquired.
+
+"Well, no, my child. You see, whatever fatigue one incurs by carrying,
+one saves by being carried! Good-bye, dears! Good-bye, Sir!" he added to
+my intense surprise, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze.
+
+"Good-bye, Professor!" I replied: but my voice sounded strange and far
+away, and the children took not the slightest notice of our farewell.
+Evidently they neither saw me nor heard me, as, with their arms lovingly
+twined round each other, they marched boldly on.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 13. A VISIT TO DOGLAND.
+
+"There's a house, away there to the left," said Sylvie, after we had
+walked what seemed to me about fifty miles. "Let's go and ask for a
+night's lodging."
+
+"It looks a very comfable house," Bruno said, as we turned into the
+road leading up to it. "I doos hope the Dogs will be kind to us, I is so
+tired and hungry!"
+
+A Mastiff, dressed in a scarlet collar, and carrying a musket, was
+pacing up and down, like a sentinel, in front of the entrance. He
+started, on catching sight of the children, and came forwards to meet
+them, keeping his musket pointed straight at Bruno, who stood quite
+still, though he turned pale and kept tight hold of Sylvie's hand, while
+the Sentinel walked solemnly round and round them, and looked at them
+from all points of view.
+
+{Image...The mastiff-sentinel}
+
+"Oobooh, hooh boohooyah!" He growled at last. "Woobah yahwah oobooh! Bow
+wahbah woobooyah? Bow wow?" he asked Bruno, severely.
+
+Of course Bruno understood all this, easily enough. All Fairies
+understand Doggee---that is, Dog-language. But, as you may find it a
+little difficult, just at first, I had better put it into English for
+you. "Humans, I verily believe! A couple of stray Humans! What Dog do
+you belong to? What do you want?"
+
+"We don't belong to a Dog!" Bruno began, in Doggee. ("Peoples never
+belongs to Dogs!" he whispered to Sylvie.)
+
+But Sylvie hastily checked him, for fear of hurting the Mastiff's
+feelings. "Please, we want a little food, and a night's lodging--if
+there's room in the house," she added timidly. Sylvie spoke Doggee
+very prettily: but I think it's almost better, for you, to give the
+conversation in English.
+
+"The house, indeed!" growled the Sentinel. "Have you never seen a Palace
+in your life? Come along with me! His Majesty must settle what's to be
+done with you."
+
+They followed him through the entrance-hall, down a long passage, and
+into a magnificent Saloon, around which were grouped dogs of all sorts
+and sizes. Two splendid Blood-hounds were solemnly sitting up, one on
+each side of the crown-bearer. Two or three Bull-dogs---whom I guessed
+to be the Body-Guard of the King--were waiting in grim silence: in fact
+the only voices at all plainly audible were those of two little dogs,
+who had mounted a settee, and were holding a lively discussion that
+looked very like a quarrel.
+
+"Lords and Ladies in Waiting, and various Court Officials," our guide
+gruffly remarked, as he led us in. Of me the Courtiers took no notice
+whatever: but Sylvie and Bruno were the subject of many inquisitive
+looks, and many whispered remarks, of which I only distinctly caught
+one--made by a sly-looking Dachshund to his friend "Bah wooh wahyah
+hoobah Oobooh, hah bah?" ("She's not such a bad-looking Human, is she?")
+
+Leaving the new arrivals in the centre of the Saloon, the Sentinel
+advanced to a door, at the further end of it, which bore an inscription,
+painted on it in Doggee, "Royal Kennel--scratch and Yell."
+
+Before doing this, the Sentinel turned to the children, and said "Give
+me your names."
+
+"We'd rather not!" Bruno exclaimed, pulling' Sylvie away from the door.
+"We want them ourselves. Come back, Sylvie! Come quick!"
+
+"Nonsense!" said Sylvie very decidedly: and gave their names in Doggee.
+
+Then the Sentinel scratched violently at the door, and gave a yell that
+made Bruno shiver from head to foot.
+
+"Hooyah wah!" said a deep voice inside. (That's Doggee for "Come in!")
+
+"It's the King himself!" the Mastiff whispered in an awestruck tone.
+"Take off your wigs, and lay them humbly at his paws." (What we should
+call "at his feet.")
+
+Sylvie was just going to explain, very politely, that really they
+couldn't perform that ceremony, because their wigs wouldn't come off,
+when the door of the Royal Kennel opened, and an enormous Newfoundland
+Dog put his head out. "Bow wow?" was his first question.
+
+"When His Majesty speaks to you," the Sentinel hastily whispered to
+Bruno, "you should prick up your ears!"
+
+Bruno looked doubtfully at Sylvie. "I'd rather not, please," he said.
+"It would hurt."
+
+{Image...The dog-king}
+
+"It doesn't hurt a bit!" the Sentinel said with some indignation. "Look!
+It's like this!" And he pricked up his ears like two railway signals.
+
+Sylvie gently explained matters. "I'm afraid we ca'n't manage it,"
+she said in a low voice. "I'm very sorry: but our ears haven't got the
+right--" she wanted to say "machinery" in Doggee: but she had forgotten
+the word, and could only think of "steam-engine."
+
+The Sentinel repeated Sylvie's explanation to the King.
+
+"Can't prick up their ears without a steam-engine!" His Majesty
+exclaimed. "They must be curious creatures! I must have a look at them!"
+And he came out of his Kennel, and walked solemnly up to the children.
+
+What was the amazement--nor to say the horror of the whole assembly,
+when Sylvie actually patted His Majesty on the head, while Bruno seized
+his long ears and pretended to tie them together under his chin!
+
+The Sentinel groaned aloud: a beautiful Greyhound who appeared to be
+one of the Ladies in Waiting--fainted away: and all the other Courtiers
+hastily drew back, and left plenty of room for the huge Newfoundland to
+spring upon the audacious strangers, and tear them limb from limb.
+
+Only--he didn't. On the contrary his Majesty actually smiled so far as
+a Dog can smile--and (the other Dogs couldn't believe their eyes, but it
+was true, all the same) his Majesty wagged his tail!
+
+"Yah! Hooh hahwooh!" (that is "Well! I never!") was the universal cry.
+
+His Majesty looked round him severely, and gave a slight growl, which
+produced instant silence. "Conduct my friends to the banqueting-hall!"
+he said, laying such an emphasis on "my friends" that several of the
+dogs rolled over helplessly on their backs and began to lick Bruno's
+feet.
+
+A procession was formed, but I only ventured to follow as far as the
+door of the banqueting-hall, so furious was the uproar of barking dogs
+within. So I sat down by the King, who seemed to have gone to sleep, and
+waited till the children returned to say good-night, when His Majesty
+got up and shook himself.
+
+"Time for bed!" he said with a sleepy yawn. "The attendants will show
+you your room," he added, aside, to Sylvie and Bruno. "Bring lights!"
+And, with a dignified air, he held out his paw for them to kiss.
+
+But the children were evidently not well practised in Court-manners.
+Sylvie simply stroked the great paw: Bruno hugged it: the Master of the
+Ceremonies looked shocked.
+
+All this time Dog-waiters, in splendid livery, were running up with
+lighted candles: but, as fast as they put them upon the table, other
+waiters ran away with them, so that there never seemed to be one for
+me, though the Master kept nudging me with his elbow, and repeating, "I
+ca'n't let you sleep here! You're not in bed, you know!"
+
+I made a great effort, and just succeeded in getting out the words "I
+know I'm not. I'm in an arm-chair."
+
+"Well, forty winks will do you no harm," the Master said, and left me.
+I could scarcely hear his words: and no wonder: he was leaning over the
+side of a ship, that was miles away from the pier on which I stood. The
+ship passed over the horizon and I sank back into the arm-chair.
+
+The next thing I remember is that it was morning: breakfast was just
+over: Sylvie was lifting Bruno down from a high chair, and saying to
+a Spaniel, who was regarding them with a most benevolent smile, "Yes,
+thank you we've had a very nice breakfast. Haven't we, Bruno?"
+
+"There was too many bones in the"--Bruno began, but Sylvie frowned at
+him, and laid her finger on her lips, for, at this moment, the travelers
+were waited on by a very dignified officer, the Head-Growler, whose duty
+it was, first to conduct them to the King to bid him farewell and
+then to escort them to the boundary of Dogland. The great Newfoundland
+received them most affably but instead of saying "good-bye" he startled
+the Head-growler into giving three savage growls, by announcing that he
+would escort them himself.
+
+It is a most unusual proceeding, your Majesty! the Head-Growler
+exclaimed, almost choking with vexation at being set aside, for he
+had put on his best Court-suit, made entirely of cat-skins, for the
+occasion.
+
+"I shall escort them myself," his Majesty repeated, gently but firmly,
+laying aside the Royal robes, and changing his crown for a small
+coronet, "and you may stay at home."
+
+"I are glad!" Bruno whispered to Sylvie, when they had got well out of
+hearing. "He were so welly cross!" And he not only patted their Royal
+escort, but even hugged him round the neck in the exuberance of his
+delight.
+
+His Majesty calmly wagged the Royal tail. "It's quite a relief," he
+said, "getting away from that Palace now and then! Royal Dogs have a
+dull life of it, I can tell you! Would you mind" (this to Sylvie, in a
+low voice, and looking a little shy and embarrassed) "would you mind the
+trouble of just throwing that stick for me to fetch?"
+
+Sylvie was too much astonished to do anything for a moment: it sounded
+such a monstrous impossibility that a King should wish to run after a
+stick. But Bruno was equal to the occasion, and with a glad shout of "Hi
+then! Fetch it, good Doggie!" he hurled it over a clump of bushes. The
+next moment the Monarch of Dogland had bounded over the bushes, and
+picked up the stick, and came galloping back to the children with it in
+his mouth. Bruno took it from him with great decision. "Beg for it!"
+he insisted; and His Majesty begged. "Paw!" commanded Sylvie; and His
+Majesty gave his paw. In short, the solemn ceremony of escorting the
+travelers to the boundaries of Dogland became one long uproarious game
+of play!
+
+"But business is business!" the Dog-King said at last. "And I must
+go back to mine. I couldn't come any further," he added, consulting a
+dog-watch, which hung on a chain round his neck, "not even if there were
+a Cat insight!"
+
+They took an affectionate farewell of His Majesty, and trudged on.
+
+"That were a dear dog!" Bruno exclaimed. "Has we to go far, Sylvie? I's
+tired!"
+
+"Not much further, darling!" Sylvie gently replied. "Do you see that
+shining, just beyond those trees? I'm almost sure it's the gate of
+Fairyland! I know it's all golden--Father told me so and so bright, so
+bright!" she went on dreamily.
+
+"It dazzles!" said Bruno, shading his eyes with one little hand, while
+the other clung tightly to Sylvie's hand, as if he were half-alarmed at
+her strange manner.
+
+For the child moved on as if walking in her sleep, her large eyes gazing
+into the far distance, and her breath coming and going in quick pantings
+of eager delight. I knew, by some mysterious mental light, that a great
+change was taking place in my sweet little friend (for such I loved to
+think her) and that she was passing from the condition of a mere Outland
+Sprite into the true Fairy-nature.
+
+Upon Bruno the change came later: but it was completed in both
+before they reached the golden gate, through which I knew it would be
+impossible for me to follow. I could but stand outside, and take a last
+look at the two sweet children, ere they disappeared within, and the
+golden gate closed with a bang.
+
+And with such a bang! "It never will shut like any other cupboard-door,"
+Arthur explained. "There's something wrong with the hinge. However,
+here's the cake and wine. And you've had your forty winks. So you really
+must get off to bed, old man! You're fit for nothing else. Witness my
+hand, Arthur Forester, M.D."
+
+By this time I was wide-awake again. "Not quite yet!" I pleaded. "Really
+I'm not sleepy now. And it isn't midnight yet."
+
+"Well, I did want to say another word to you," Arthur replied in a
+relenting tone, as he supplied me with the supper he had prescribed.
+"Only I thought you were too sleepy for it to-night."
+
+We took our midnight meal almost in silence; for an unusual nervousness
+seemed to have seized on my old friend.
+
+"What kind of a night is it?" he asked, rising and undrawing the
+window-curtains, apparently to change the subject for a minute. I
+followed him to the window, and we stood together, looking out, in
+silence.
+
+"When I first spoke to you about--" Arthur began, after a long and
+embarrassing silence, "that is, when we first talked about her--for I
+think it was you that introduced the subject--my own position in life
+forbade me to do more than worship her from a distance: and I was
+turning over plans for leaving this place finally, and settling
+somewhere out of all chance of meeting her again. That seemed to be my
+only chance of usefulness in life."
+
+"Would that have been wise?" I said. "To leave yourself no hope at all?"
+
+"There was no hope to leave," Arthur firmly replied, though his eyes
+glittered with tears as he gazed upwards into the midnight sky, from
+which one solitary star, the glorious 'Vega,' blazed out in fitful
+splendour through the driving clouds. "She was like that star to
+me--bright, beautiful, and pure, but out of reach, out of reach!"
+
+He drew the curtains again, and we returned to our places by the
+fireside.
+
+"What I wanted to tell you was this," he resumed. "I heard this evening
+from my solicitor. I can't go into the details of the business, but the
+upshot is that my worldly wealth is much more than I thought, and I am
+(or shall soon be) in a position to offer marriage, without imprudence,
+to any lady, even if she brought nothing. I doubt if there would be
+anything on her side: the Earl is poor, I believe. But I should have
+enough for both, even if health failed."
+
+"I wish you all happiness in your married life!" I cried. "Shall you
+speak to the Earl to-morrow?"
+
+"Not yet awhile," said Arthur. "He is very friendly, but I dare not
+think he means more than that, as yet. And as for--as for Lady Muriel,
+try as I may, I cannot read her feelings towards me. If there is love,
+she is hiding it! No, I must wait, I must wait!"
+
+I did not like to press any further advice on my friend, whose judgment,
+I felt, was so much more sober and thoughtful than my own; and we parted
+without more words on the subject that had now absorbed his thoughts,
+nay, his very life.
+
+The next morning a letter from my solicitor arrived, summoning me to
+town on important business.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 14. FAIRY-SYLVIE.
+
+For a full month the business, for which I had returned to London,
+detained me there: and even then it was only the urgent advice of my
+physician that induced me to leave it unfinished and pay another visit
+to Elveston.
+
+Arthur had written once or twice during the month; but in none of his
+letters was there any mention of Lady Muriel. Still, I did not augur ill
+from his silence: to me it looked like the natural action of a lover,
+who, even while his heart was singing "She is mine!", would fear to
+paint his happiness in the cold phrases of a written letter, but would
+wait to tell it by word of mouth. "Yes," I thought, "I am to hear his
+song of triumph from his own lips!"
+
+The night I arrived we had much to say on other matters: and, tired with
+the journey, I went to bed early, leaving the happy secret still untold.
+Next day, however, as we chatted on over the remains of luncheon, I
+ventured to put the momentous question. "Well, old friend, you have told
+me nothing of Lady Muriel--nor when the happy day is to be?"
+
+"The happy day," Arthur said, looking unexpectedly grave, "is yet in the
+dim future. We need to know--or, rather, she needs to know me better.
+I know her sweet nature, thoroughly, by this time. But I dare not speak
+till I am sure that my love is returned."
+
+"Don't wait too long!" I said gaily. "Faint heart never won fair lady!"
+
+"It is 'faint heart,' perhaps. But really I dare not speak just yet."
+
+"But meanwhile," I pleaded, "you are running a risk that perhaps you
+have not thought of. Some other man--"
+
+"No," said Arthur firmly. "She is heart-whole: I am sure of that. Yet,
+if she loves another better than me, so be it! I will not spoil her
+happiness. The secret shall die with me. But she is my first--and my
+only love!"
+
+"That is all very beautiful sentiment," I said, "but it is not
+practical. It is not like you.
+
+
+    He either fears his fate too much,
+    Or his desert is small,
+    Who dares not put it to the touch,
+    To win or lose it all."
+
+"I dare not ask the question whether there is another!" he said
+passionately. "It would break my heart to know it!"
+
+"Yet is it wise to leave it unasked? You must not waste your life upon
+an 'if'!"
+
+"I tell you I dare not!,"
+
+"May I find it out for you?" I asked, with the freedom of an old friend.
+
+"No, no!" he replied with a pained look. "I entreat you to say nothing.
+Let it wait."
+
+"As you please," I said: and judged it best to say no more just then.
+"But this evening," I thought, "I will call on the Earl. I may be able
+to see how the land lies, without so much as saying a word!"
+
+It was a very hot afternoon--too hot to go for a walk or do anything--or
+else it wouldn't have happened, I believe.
+
+In the first place, I want to know--dear Child who reads this!--why
+Fairies should always be teaching us to do our duty, and lecturing us
+when we go wrong, and we should never teach them anything? You can't
+mean to say that Fairies are never greedy, or selfish, or cross, or
+deceitful, because that would be nonsense, you know. Well then, don't
+you think they might be all the better for a little lecturing and
+punishing now and then?
+
+I really don't see why it shouldn't be tried, and I'm almost sure that,
+if you could only catch a Fairy, and put it in the corner, and give it
+nothing but bread and water for a day or two, you'd find it quite an
+improved character--it would take down its conceit a little, at all
+events.
+
+The next question is, what is the best time for seeing Fairies? I
+believe I can tell you all about that.
+
+The first rule is, that it must be a very hot day--that we may consider
+as settled: and you must be just a little sleepy--but not too sleepy to
+keep your eyes open, mind. Well, and you ought to feel a little--what
+one may call "fairyish "--the Scotch call it "eerie," and perhaps that's
+a prettier word; if you don't know what it means, I'm afraid I can
+hardly explain it; you must wait till you meet a Fairy, and then you'll
+know.
+
+And the last rule is, that the crickets should not be chirping. I can't
+stop to explain that: you must take it on trust for the present.
+
+So, if all these things happen together, you have a good chance of
+seeing a Fairy--or at least a much better chance than if they didn't.
+
+The first thing I noticed, as I went lazily along through an open place
+in the wood, was a large Beetle lying struggling on its back, and I went
+down upon one knee to help the poor thing to its feet again. In some
+things, you know, you ca'n't be quite sure what an insect would like:
+for instance, I never could quite settle, supposing I were a moth,
+whether I would rather be kept out of the candle, or be allowed to fly
+straight in and get burnt--or again, supposing I were a spider, I'm not
+sure if I should be quite pleased to have my web torn down, and the fly
+let loose--but I feel quite certain that, if I were a beetle and had
+rolled over on my back, I should always be glad to be helped up again.
+
+So, as I was saying, I had gone down upon one knee, and was just
+reaching out a little stick to turn the Beetle over, when I saw a sight
+that made me draw back hastily and hold my breath, for fear of making
+any noise and frightening the little creature a way.
+
+Not that she looked as if she would be easily frightened: she seemed so
+good and gentle that I'm sure she would never expect that any one could
+wish to hurt her. She was only a few inches high, and was dressed in
+green, so that you really would hardly have noticed her among the long
+grass; and she was so delicate and graceful that she quite seemed to
+belong to the place, almost as if she were one of the flowers. I may
+tell you, besides, that she had no wings (I don't believe in Fairies
+with wings), and that she had quantities of long brown hair and large
+earnest brown eyes, and then I shall have done all I can to give you an
+idea of her.
+
+{Image...Fairy-sylvie}
+
+Sylvie (I found out her name afterwards) had knelt down, just as I was
+doing, to help the Beetle; but it needed more than a little stick for
+her to get it on its legs again; it was as much as she could do, with
+both arms, to roll the heavy thing over; and all the while she was
+talking to it, half scolding and half comforting, as a nurse might do
+with a child that had fallen down.
+
+"There, there! You needn't cry so much about it. You're not killed
+yet--though if you were, you couldn't cry, you know, and so it's a
+general rule against crying, my dear! And how did you come to
+tumble over? But I can see well enough how it was--I needn't ask you
+that--walking over sand-pits with your chin in the air, as usual. Of
+course if you go among sand-pits like that, you must expect to tumble.
+You should look."
+
+The Beetle murmured something that sounded like "I did look," and Sylvie
+went on again.
+
+"But I know you didn't! You never do! You always walk with your chin
+up--you're so dreadfully conceited. Well, let's see how many legs are
+broken this time. Why, none of them, I declare! And what's the good of
+having six legs, my dear, if you can only kick them all about in the air
+when you tumble? Legs are meant to walk with, you know. Now don't begin
+putting out your wings yet; I've more to say. Go to the frog that
+lives behind that buttercup--give him my compliments--Sylvie's
+compliments--can you say compliments'?"
+
+The Beetle tried and, I suppose, succeeded.
+
+"Yes, that's right. And tell him he's to give you some of that salve I
+left with him yesterday. And you'd better get him to rub it in for you.
+He's got rather cold hands, but you mustn't mind that."
+
+I think the Beetle must have shuddered at this idea, for Sylvie went on
+in a graver tone. "Now you needn't pretend to be so particular as all
+that, as if you were too grand to be rubbed by a frog. The fact is, you
+ought to be very much obliged to him. Suppose you could get nobody but a
+toad to do it, how would you like that?"
+
+There was a little pause, and then Sylvie added "Now you may go. Be a
+good beetle, and don't keep your chin in the air." And then began one of
+those performances of humming, and whizzing, and restless banging about,
+such as a beetle indulges in when it has decided on flying, but hasn't
+quite made up its mind which way to go. At last, in one of its awkward
+zigzags, it managed to fly right into my face, and, by the time I had
+recovered from the shock, the little Fairy was gone.
+
+I looked about in all directions for the little creature, but there
+was no trace of her--and my 'eerie' feeling was quite gone off, and the
+crickets were chirping again merrily--so I knew she was really gone.
+
+And now I've got time to tell you the rule about the crickets. They
+always leave off chirping when a Fairy goes by--because a Fairy's a kind
+of queen over them, I suppose--at all events it's a much grander
+thing than a cricket--so whenever you're walking out, and the crickets
+suddenly leave off chirping, you may be sure that they see a Fairy.
+
+I walked on sadly enough, you may be sure. However, I comforted myself
+with thinking "It's been a very wonderful afternoon, so far. I'll just
+go quietly on and look about me, and I shouldn't wonder if I were to
+come across another Fairy somewhere."
+
+Peering about in this way, I happened to notice a plant with rounded
+leaves, and with queer little holes cut in the middle of several of
+them. "Ah, the leafcutter bee!" I carelessly remarked--you know I am
+very learned in Natural History (for instance, I can always tell kittens
+from chickens at one glance)--and I was passing on, when a sudden
+thought made me stoop down and examine the leaves.
+
+Then a little thrill of delight ran through me--for I noticed that the
+holes were all arranged so as to form letters; there were three leaves
+side by side, with "B," "R," and "U" marked on them, and after some
+search I found two more, which contained an "N" and an "O."
+
+And then, all in a moment, a flash of inner light seemed to illumine
+a part of my life that had all but faded into oblivion--the strange
+visions I had experienced during my journey to Elveston: and with a
+thrill of delight I thought "Those visions are destined to be linked
+with my waking life!"
+
+By this time the 'eerie' feeling had come back again, and I suddenly
+observed that no crickets were chirping; so I felt quite sure that Bruno
+was somewhere very near.
+
+And so indeed he was--so near that I had very nearly walked over him
+without seeing him; which would have been dreadful, always supposing
+that Fairies can be walked over my own belief is that they are something
+of the nature of Will-o'-the-wisps: and there's no walking over them.
+
+Think of any pretty little boy you know, with rosy cheeks, large dark
+eyes, and tangled brown hair, and then fancy him made small enough to go
+comfortably into a coffee-cup, and you'll have a very fair idea of him.
+
+"What's your name, little one?" I began, in as soft a voice as I could
+manage. And, by the way, why is it we always begin by asking little
+children their names? Is it because we fancy a name will help to make
+them a little bigger? You never thought of asking a real large man his
+name, now, did you? But, however that may be, I felt it quite necessary
+to know his name; so, as he didn't answer my question, I asked it again
+a little louder. "What's your name, my little man?"
+
+"What's oors?" he said, without looking up.
+
+I told him my name quite gently, for he was much too small to be angry
+with.
+
+"Duke of Anything?" he asked, just looking at me for a moment, and then
+going on with his work.
+
+"Not Duke at all," I said, a little ashamed of having to confess it.
+
+"Oo're big enough to be two Dukes," said the little creature. "I suppose
+oo're Sir Something, then?"
+
+"No," I said, feeling more and more ashamed. "I haven't got any title."
+
+The Fairy seemed to think that in that case I really wasn't worth the
+trouble of talking to, for he quietly went on digging, and tearing the
+flowers to pieces.
+
+After a few minutes I tried again. "Please tell me what your name is."
+
+"Bruno," the little fellow answered, very readily. "Why didn't oo say
+'please' before?"
+
+"That's something like what we used to be taught in the nursery," I
+thought to myself, looking back through the long years (about a hundred
+of them, since you ask the question), to the time when I was a little
+child. And here an idea came into my head, and I asked him "Aren't you
+one of the Fairies that teach children to be good?"
+
+"Well, we have to do that sometimes," said Bruno, "and a dreadful bother
+it is." As he said this, he savagely tore a heartsease in two, and
+trampled on the pieces.
+
+"What are you doing there, Bruno?" I said.
+
+"Spoiling Sylvie's garden," was all the answer Bruno would give at
+first. But, as he went on tearing up the flowers, he muttered to himself
+"The nasty cross thing wouldn't let me go and play this morning,--said
+I must finish my lessons first--lessons, indeed! I'll vex her finely,
+though!"
+
+"Oh, Bruno, you shouldn't do that!" I cried. "Don't you know that's
+revenge? And revenge is a wicked, cruel, dangerous thing!"
+
+"River-edge?" said Bruno. "What a funny word! I suppose oo call it cruel
+and dangerous 'cause, if oo wented too far and tumbleded in, oo'd get
+drownded."
+
+"No, not river-edge," I explained: "revenge" (saying the word very
+slowly). But I couldn't help thinking that Bruno's explanation did very
+well for either word.
+
+"Oh!" said Bruno, opening his eyes very wide, but without trying to
+repeat the word.
+
+"Come! Try and pronounce it, Bruno!" I said, cheerfully. "Re-venge,
+re-venge."
+
+But Bruno only tossed his little head, and said he couldn't; that his
+mouth wasn't the right shape for words of that kind. And the more I
+laughed, the more sulky the little fellow got about it.
+
+"Well, never mind, my little man!" I said. "Shall I help you with that
+job?"
+
+"Yes, please," Bruno said, quite pacified.
+
+"Only I wiss I could think of somefin to vex her more than this. Oo
+don't know how hard it is to make her angry!"
+
+"Now listen to me, Bruno, and I'll teach you quite a splendid kind of
+revenge!"
+
+"Somefin that'll vex her finely?" he asked with gleaming eyes.
+
+"Something that will vex her finely. First, we'll get up all the weeds
+in her garden. See, there are a good many at this end quite hiding the
+flowers."
+
+"But that won't vex her!" said Bruno.
+
+"After that," I said, without noticing the remark, "we'll water this
+highest bed--up here. You see it's getting quite dry and dusty."
+
+Bruno looked at me inquisitively, but he said nothing this time.
+
+"Then after that," I went on, "the walks want sweeping a bit; and I
+think you might cut down that tall nettle--it's so close to the garden
+that it's quite in the way--"
+
+"What is oo talking about?" Bruno impatiently interrupted me. "All that
+won't vex her a bit!"
+
+"Won't it?" I said, innocently. "Then, after that, suppose we put in
+some of these coloured pebbles--just to mark the divisions between
+the different kinds of flowers, you know. That'll have a very pretty
+effect."
+
+Bruno turned round and had another good stare at me. At last there
+came an odd little twinkle into his eyes, and he said, with quite a new
+meaning in his voice, "That'll do nicely. Let's put 'em in rows--all the
+red together, and all the blue together."
+
+"That'll do capitally," I said; "and then--what kind of flowers does
+Sylvie like best?"
+
+Bruno had to put his thumb in his mouth and consider a little before he
+could answer. "Violets," he said, at last.
+
+"There's a beautiful bed of violets down by the brook--"
+
+"Oh, let's fetch 'em!" cried Bruno, giving a little skip into the air.
+"Here! Catch hold of my hand, and I'll help oo along. The grass is
+rather thick down that way."
+
+I couldn't help laughing at his having so entirely forgotten what a
+big creature he was talking to. "No, not yet, Bruno," I said: "we must
+consider what's the right thing to do first. You see we've got quite a
+business before us."
+
+"Yes, let's consider," said Bruno, putting his thumb into his mouth
+again, and sitting down upon a dead mouse.
+
+"What do you keep that mouse for?" I said. "You should either bury it,
+or else throw it into the brook."
+
+"Why, it's to measure with!" cried Bruno. "How ever would oo do a garden
+without one? We make each bed three mouses and a half long, and two
+mouses wide."
+
+I stopped him, as he was dragging it off by the tail to show me how it
+was used, for I was half afraid the 'eerie' feeling might go off before
+we had finished the garden, and in that case I should see no more of him
+or Sylvie. "I think the best way will be for you to weed the beds, while
+I sort out these pebbles, ready to mark the walks with."
+
+"That's it!" cried Bruno. "And I'll tell oo about the caterpillars while
+we work."
+
+"Ah, let's hear about the caterpillars," I said, as I drew the pebbles
+together into a heap and began dividing them into colours.
+
+And Bruno went on in a low, rapid tone, more as if he were talking to
+himself. "Yesterday I saw two little caterpillars, when I was sitting
+by the brook, just where oo go into the wood. They were quite green, and
+they had yellow eyes, and they didn't see me. And one of them had got a
+moth's wing to carry--a great brown moth's wing, oo know, all dry, with
+feathers. So he couldn't want it to eat, I should think--perhaps he
+meant to make a cloak for the winter?"
+
+"Perhaps," I said, for Bruno had twisted up the last word into a sort of
+question, and was looking at me for an answer.
+
+One word was quite enough for the little fellow, and he went on merrily.
+"Well, and so he didn't want the other caterpillar to see the moth's
+wing, oo know--so what must he do but try to carry it with all his left
+legs, and he tried to walk on the other set. Of course he toppled over
+after that."
+
+"After what?" I said, catching at the last word, for, to tell the truth,
+I hadn't been attending much.
+
+"He toppled over," Bruno repeated, very gravely, "and if oo ever saw a
+caterpillar topple over, oo'd know it's a welly serious thing, and not
+sit grinning like that--and I sha'n't tell oo no more!"
+
+"Indeed and indeed, Bruno, I didn't mean to grin. See, I'm quite grave
+again now."
+
+But Bruno only folded his arms, and said "Don't tell me. I see a little
+twinkle in one of oor eyes--just like the moon."
+
+"Why do you think I'm like the moon, Bruno?" I asked.
+
+"Oor face is large and round like the moon," Bruno answered, looking
+at me thoughtfully. "It doosn't shine quite so bright--but it's more
+cleaner."
+
+I couldn't help smiling at this. "You know I sometimes wash my face,
+Bruno. The moon never does that."
+
+"Oh, doosn't she though!" cried Bruno; and he leant forwards and added
+in a solemn whisper, "The moon's face gets dirtier and dirtier every
+night, till it's black all across. And then, when it's dirty all
+over--so--" (he passed his hand across his own rosy cheeks as he spoke)
+"then she washes it."
+
+"Then it's all clean again, isn't it?"
+
+"Not all in a moment," said Bruno. "What a deal of teaching oo wants!
+She washes it little by little--only she begins at the other edge, oo
+know."
+
+By this time he was sitting quietly on the dead mouse with his arms
+folded, and the weeding wasn't getting on a bit: so I had to say "Work
+first, pleasure afterwards: no more talking till that bed's finished."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 15. BRUNO'S REVENGE.
+
+After that we had a few minutes of silence, while I sorted out the
+pebbles, and amused myself with watching Bruno's plan of gardening. It
+was quite a new plan to me: he always measured each bed before he weeded
+it, as if he was afraid the weeding would make it shrink; and once, when
+it came out longer than he wished, he set to work to thump the mouse
+with his little fist, crying out "There now! It's all gone wrong again!
+Why don't oo keep oor tail straight when I tell oo!"
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll do," Bruno said in a half-whisper, as we
+worked. "Oo like Fairies, don't oo?"
+
+"Yes," I said: "of course I do, or I shouldn't have come here. I should
+have gone to some place where there are no Fairies."
+
+Bruno laughed contemptuously. "Why, oo might as well say oo'd go to some
+place where there wasn't any air--supposing oo didn't like air!"
+
+This was a rather difficult idea to grasp. I tried a change of subject.
+"You're nearly the first Fairy I ever saw. Have you ever seen any people
+besides me?"
+
+"Plenty!" said Bruno. "We see'em when we walk in the road."
+
+"But they ca'n't see you. How is it they never tread on you?"
+
+"Ca'n't tread on us," said Bruno, looking amused at my ignorance. "Why,
+suppose oo're walking, here--so--" (making little marks on the ground)
+"and suppose there's a Fairy--that's me--walking here. Very well then,
+oo put one foot here, and one foot here, so oo doosn't tread on the
+Fairy."
+
+This was all very well as an explanation, but it didn't convince me.
+"Why shouldn't I put one foot on the Fairy?" I asked.
+
+"I don't know why," the little fellow said in a thoughtful tone. "But
+I know oo wouldn't. Nobody never walked on the top of a Fairy. Now
+I'll tell oo what I'll do, as oo're so fond of Fairies. I'll get oo
+an invitation to the Fairy-King's dinner-party. I know one of the
+head-waiters."
+
+I couldn't help laughing at this idea. "Do the waiters invite the
+guests?" I asked.
+
+"Oh, not to sit down!" Bruno said. "But to wait at table. Oo'd like
+that, wouldn't oo? To hand about plates, and so on."
+
+"Well, but that's not so nice as sitting at the table, is it?"
+
+"Of course it isn't," Bruno said, in a tone as if he rather pitied my
+ignorance; "but if oo're not even Sir Anything, oo ca'n't expect to be
+allowed to sit at the table, oo know."
+
+I said, as meekly as I could, that I didn't expect it, but it was the
+only way of going to a dinner-party that I really enjoyed. And Bruno
+tossed his head, and said, in a rather offended tone that I might do as
+I pleased--there were many he knew that would give their ears to go.
+
+"Have you ever been yourself, Bruno?"
+
+"They invited me once, last week," Bruno said, very gravely. "It was
+to wash up the soup-plates--no, the cheese-plates I mean that was
+grand enough. And I waited at table. And I didn't hardly make only one
+mistake."
+
+"What was it?" I said. "You needn't mind telling me."
+
+"Only bringing scissors to cut the beef with," Bruno said carelessly.
+"But the grandest thing of all was, I fetched the King a glass of
+cider!"
+
+"That was grand!" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.
+
+"Wasn't it?" said Bruno, very earnestly. "Oo know it isn't every one
+that's had such an honour as that!"
+
+This set me thinking of the various queer things we call "an honour" in
+this world, but which, after all, haven't a bit more honour in them than
+what Bruno enjoyed, when he took the King a glass of cider.
+
+I don't know how long I might not have dreamed on in this way, if Bruno
+hadn't suddenly roused me. "Oh, come here quick!" he cried, in a state
+of the wildest excitement. "Catch hold of his other horn! I ca'n't hold
+him more than a minute!"
+
+He was struggling desperately with a great snail, clinging to one of its
+horns, and nearly breaking his poor little back in his efforts to drag
+it over a blade of grass.
+
+I saw we should have no more gardening if I let this sort of thing go
+on, so I quietly took the snail away, and put it on a bank where he
+couldn't reach it. "We'll hunt it afterwards, Bruno," I said, "if you
+really want to catch it. But what's the use of it when you've got it?"
+
+"What's the use of a fox when oo've got it?" said Bruno. "I know oo big
+things hunt foxes."
+
+I tried to think of some good reason why "big things" should hunt foxes,
+and he should not hunt snails, but none came into my head: so I said at
+last, "Well, I suppose one's as good as the other. I'll go snail-hunting
+myself some day."
+
+"I should think oo wouldn't be so silly," said Bruno, "as to go
+snail-hunting by oor-self. Why, oo'd never get the snail along, if oo
+hadn't somebody to hold on to his other horn!"
+
+"Of course I sha'n't go alone," I said, quite gravely. "By the way,
+is that the best kind to hunt, or do you recommend the ones without
+shells?"
+
+"Oh, no, we never hunt the ones without shells," Bruno said, with a
+little shudder at the thought of it. "They're always so cross about it;
+and then, if oo tumbles over them, they're ever so sticky!"
+
+By this time we had nearly finished the garden. I had fetched some
+violets, and Bruno was just helping me to put in the last, when he
+suddenly stopped and said "I'm tired."
+
+"Rest then," I said: "I can go on without you, quite well."
+
+Bruno needed no second invitation: he at once began arranging the dead
+mouse as a kind of sofa. "And I'll sing oo a little song," he said, as
+he rolled it about.
+
+"Do," said I: "I like songs very much."
+
+"Which song will oo choose?" Bruno said, as he dragged the mouse into a
+place where he could get a good view of me. "'Ting, ting, ting' is the
+nicest."
+
+There was no resisting such a strong hint as this: however, I pretended
+to think about it for a moment, and then said "Well, I like 'Ting, ting,
+ting,' best of all."
+
+{Image...Bruno's revenge}
+
+"That shows oo're a good judge of music," Bruno said, with a pleased
+look. "How many hare-bells would oo like?" And he put his thumb into his
+mouth to help me to consider.
+
+As there was only one cluster of hare-bells within easy reach, I said
+very gravely that I thought one would do this time, and I picked it
+and gave it to him. Bruno ran his hand once or twice up and down
+the flowers, like a musician trying an instrument, producing a most
+delicious delicate tinkling as he did so. I had never heard flower-music
+before--I don't think one can, unless one's in the 'eerie' state and I
+don't know quite how to give you an idea of what it was like, except by
+saying that it sounded like a peal of bells a thousand miles off.
+When he had satisfied himself that the flowers were in tune, he seated
+himself on the dead mouse (he never seemed really comfortable anywhere
+else), and, looking up at me with a merry twinkle in his eyes, he began.
+By the way, the tune was rather a curious one, and you might like to try
+it for yourself, so here are the notes.
+
+{Image...Music for hare-bells}
+
+
+    "Rise, oh, rise!  The daylight dies:
+     The owls are hooting, ting, ting, ting!
+     Wake, oh, wake!  Beside the lake
+     The elves are fluting, ting, ting, ting!
+     Welcoming our Fairy King,
+     We sing, sing, sing."
+
+He sang the first four lines briskly and merrily, making the hare-bells
+chime in time with the music; but the last two he sang quite slowly and
+gently, and merely waved the flowers backwards and forwards. Then he
+left off to explain. "The Fairy-King is Oberon, and he lives across the
+lake--and sometimes he comes in a little boat--and we go and meet him
+and then we sing this song, you know."
+
+"And then you go and dine with him?" I said, mischievously.
+
+"Oo shouldn't talk," Bruno hastily said: "it interrupts the song so."
+
+I said I wouldn't do it again.
+
+"I never talk myself when I'm singing," he went on very gravely: "so oo
+shouldn't either." Then he tuned the hare-bells once more, and sang:---
+
+
+    "Hear, oh, hear!  From far and near
+    The music stealing, ting, ting, ting!
+    Fairy belts adown the dells
+    Are merrily pealing, ting, ting, ting!
+    Welcoming our Fairy King,
+    We ring, ring, ring.
+
+    "See, oh, see!  On every tree
+    What lamps are shining, ting, ting, ting!
+    They are eyes of fiery flies
+    To light our dining, ting, ting, ting!
+    Welcoming our Fairy King
+    They swing, swing, swing.
+
+    "Haste, oh haste, to take and taste
+    The dainties waiting, ting, ting, ting!
+    Honey-dew is stored--"
+
+"Hush, Bruno!" I interrupted in a warning whisper. "She's coming!"
+
+Bruno checked his song, and, as she slowly made her way through the
+long grass, he suddenly rushed out headlong at her like a little bull,
+shouting "Look the other way! Look the other way!"
+
+"Which way?" Sylvie asked, in rather a frightened tone, as she looked
+round in all directions to see where the danger could be.
+
+"That way!" said Bruno, carefully turning her round with her face to the
+wood. "Now, walk backwards walk gently--don't be frightened: oo sha'n't
+trip!"
+
+But Sylvie did trip notwithstanding: in fact he led her, in his hurry,
+across so many little sticks and stones, that it was really a wonder
+the poor child could keep on her feet at all. But he was far too much
+excited to think of what he was doing.
+
+I silently pointed out to Bruno the best place to lead her to, so as to
+get a view of the whole garden at once: it was a little rising ground,
+about the height of a potato; and, when they had mounted it, I drew back
+into the shade, that Sylvie mightn't see me.
+
+I heard Bruno cry out triumphantly "Now oo may look!" and then followed
+a clapping of hands, but it was all done by Bruno himself. Sylvie: was
+silent--she only stood and gazed with her hands clasped together, and I
+was half afraid she didn't like it after all.
+
+Bruno too was watching her anxiously, and when she jumped down off the
+mound, and began wandering up and down the little walks, he cautiously
+followed her about, evidently anxious that she should form her own
+opinion of it all, without any hint from him. And when at last she drew
+a long breath, and gave her verdict--in a hurried whisper, and without
+the slightest regard to grammar--"It's the loveliest thing as I never
+saw in all my life before!" the little fellow looked as well pleased
+as if it had been given by all the judges and juries in England put
+together.
+
+"And did you really do it all by yourself, Bruno?" said Sylvie. "And all
+for me?"
+
+"I was helped a bit," Bruno began, with a merry little laugh at her
+surprise. "We've been at it all the afternoon--I thought oo'd like--"
+and here the poor little fellow's lip began to quiver, and all in a
+moment he burst out crying, and running up to Sylvie he flung his arms
+passionately round her neck, and hid his face on her shoulder.
+
+There was a little quiver in Sylvie's voice too, as she whispered "Why,
+what's the matter, darling?" and tried to lift up his head and kiss him.
+
+But Bruno only clung to her, sobbing, and wouldn't be comforted till
+he had confessed. "I tried--to spoil oor garden--first--but I'll
+never--never--" and then came another burst of tears, which drowned the
+rest of the sentence. At last he got out the words "I liked--putting in
+the flowers--for oo, Sylvie--and I never was so happy before." And the
+rosy little face came up at last to be kissed, all wet with tears as it
+was.
+
+Sylvie was crying too by this time, and she said nothing but "Bruno,
+dear!" and "I never was so happy before," though why these two children
+who had never been so happy before should both be crying was a mystery
+to me.
+
+I felt very happy too, but of course I didn't cry: "big things" never
+do, you know we leave all that to the Fairies. Only I think it must have
+been raining a little just then, for I found a drop or two on my cheeks.
+
+After that they went through the whole garden again, flower by flower,
+as if it were a long sentence they were spelling out, with kisses for
+commas, and a great hug by way of a full-stop when they got to the end.
+
+"Doos oo know, that was my river-edge, Sylvie?" Bruno solemnly began.
+
+Sylvie laughed merrily. "What do you mean?" she said. And she pushed
+back her heavy brown hair with both hands, and looked at him with
+dancing eyes in which the big teardrops were still glittering.
+
+Bruno drew in a long breath, and made up his mouth for a great effort.
+"I mean revenge," he said: "now oo under'tand." And he looked so happy
+and proud at having said the word right at last, that I quite envied
+him. I rather think Sylvie didn't "under'tand" at all; but she gave him
+a little kiss on each cheek, which seemed to do just as well.
+
+So they wandered off lovingly together, in among the buttercups, each
+with an arm twined round the other, whispering and laughing as they
+went, and never so much as once looked back at poor me. Yes, once,
+just before I quite lost sight of them, Bruno half turned his head, and
+nodded me a saucy little good-bye over one shoulder. And that was all
+the thanks I got for my trouble. The very last thing I saw of them was
+this--Sylvie was stooping down with her arms round Bruno's neck, and
+saying coaxingly in his ear, "Do you know, Bruno, I've quite forgotten
+that hard word. Do say it once more. Come! Only this once, dear!"
+
+But Bruno wouldn't try it again.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 16. A CHANGED CROCODILE.
+
+The Marvellous--the Mysterious--had quite passed out of my life for the
+moment: and the Common-place reigned supreme. I turned in the direction
+of the Earl's house, as it was now 'the witching hour' of five, and I
+knew I should find them ready for a cup of tea and a quiet chat.
+
+Lady Muriel and her father gave me a delightfully warm welcome. They
+were not of the folk we meet in fashionable drawing-rooms who conceal
+all such feelings as they may chance to possess beneath the impenetrable
+mask of a conventional placidity. 'The Man with the Iron Mask' was, no
+doubt, a rarity and a marvel in his own age: in modern London no one
+would turn his head to give him a second look! No, these were real
+people. When they looked pleased, it meant that they were pleased: and
+when Lady Muriel said, with a bright smile, "I'm very glad to see you
+again!", I knew that it was true.
+
+Still I did not venture to disobey the injunctions--crazy as I felt
+them to be--of the lovesick young Doctor, by so much as alluding to his
+existence: and it was only after they had given me full details of a
+projected picnic, to which they invited me, that Lady Muriel exclaimed,
+almost as an after-thought, "and do, if you can, bring Doctor Forester
+with you! I'm sure a day in the country would do him good. I'm afraid he
+studies too much--"
+
+It was 'on the tip of my tongue' to quote the words "His only books are
+woman's looks!" but I checked myself just in time--with something of the
+feeling of one who has crossed a street, and has been all but run over
+by a passing 'Hansom.'
+
+"--and I think he has too lonely a life," she went on, with a gentle
+earnestness that left no room whatever to suspect a double meaning. "Do
+get him to come! And don't forget the day, Tuesday week. We can drive
+you over. It would be a pity to go by rail----there is so much pretty
+scenery on the road. And our open carriage just holds four."
+
+"Oh, I'll persuade him to come!" I said with confidence--thinking "it
+would take all my powers of persuasion to keep him away!"
+
+The picnic was to take place in ten days: and though Arthur readily
+accepted the invitation I brought him, nothing that I could say would
+induce him to call--either with me or without me on the Earl and his
+daughter in the meanwhile. No: he feared to "wear out his welcome," he
+said: they had "seen enough of him for one while": and, when at last the
+day for the expedition arrived, he was so childishly nervous and
+uneasy that I thought it best so to arrange our plans that we should go
+separately to the house--my intention being to arrive some time after
+him, so as to give him time to get over a meeting.
+
+With this object I purposely made a considerable circuit on my way to
+the Hall (as we called the Earl's house): "and if I could only manage to
+lose my way a bit," I thought to myself, "that would suit me capitally!"
+
+In this I succeeded better, and sooner, than I had ventured to hope
+for. The path through the wood had been made familiar to me, by many a
+solitary stroll, in my former visit to Elveston; and how I could have
+so suddenly and so entirely lost it--even though I was so engrossed in
+thinking of Arthur and his lady-love that I heeded little else--was a
+mystery to me. "And this open place," I said to myself, "seems to have
+some memory about it I cannot distinctly recall--surely it is the very
+spot where I saw those Fairy-Children! But I hope there are no snakes
+about!" I mused aloud, taking my seat on a fallen tree. "I certainly do
+not like snakes--and I don't suppose Bruno likes them, either!"
+
+"No, he doesn't like them!" said a demure little voice at my side. "He's
+not afraid of them, you know. But he doesn't like them. He says they're
+too waggly!"
+
+Words fail me to describe the beauty of the little group--couched on a
+patch of moss, on the trunk of the fallen tree, that met my eager gaze:
+Sylvie reclining with her elbow buried in the moss, and her rosy cheek
+resting in the palm of her hand, and Bruno stretched at her feet with
+his head in her lap.
+
+{Image...Fairies resting}
+
+"Too waggly?" was all I could say in so sudden an emergency.
+
+"I'm not praticular," Bruno said, carelessly: "but I do like straight
+animals best--"
+
+"But you like a dog when it wags its tail," Sylvie interrupted. "You
+know you do, Bruno!"
+
+"But there's more of a dog, isn't there, Mister Sir?" Bruno appealed to
+me. "You wouldn't like to have a dog if it hadn't got nuffin but a head
+and a tail?"
+
+I admitted that a dog of that kind would be uninteresting.
+
+"There isn't such a dog as that," Sylvie thoughtfully remarked.
+
+"But there would be," cried Bruno, "if the Professor shortened it up for
+us!"
+
+"Shortened it up?" I said. "That's something new. How does he do it?"
+
+"He's got a curious machine," Sylvie was beginning to explain.
+
+"A welly curious machine," Bruno broke in, not at all willing to
+have the story thus taken out of his mouth, "and if oo puts
+in--some-finoruvver--at one end, oo know and he turns the handle--and it
+comes out at the uvver end, oh, ever so short!"
+
+"As short as short!" Sylvie echoed.
+
+"And one day when we was in Outland, oo know--before we came to
+Fairyland me and Sylvie took him a big Crocodile. And he shortened it up
+for us. And it did look so funny! And it kept looking round, and saying
+'wherever is the rest of me got to?' And then its eyes looked unhappy--"
+
+"Not both its eyes," Sylvie interrupted.
+
+"Course not!" said the little fellow. "Only the eye that couldn't
+see wherever the rest of it had got to. But the eye that could see
+wherever--"
+
+"How short was the crocodile?" I asked, as the story was getting a
+little complicated.
+
+"Half as short again as when we caught it--so long," said Bruno,
+spreading out his arms to their full stretch.
+
+I tried to calculate what this would come to, but it was too hard for
+me. Please make it out for me, dear Child who reads this!
+
+"But you didn't leave the poor thing so short as that, did you?"
+
+"Well, no. Sylvie and me took it back again and we got it stretched
+to--to--how much was it, Sylvie?"
+
+"Two times and a half, and a little bit more," said Sylvie.
+
+"It wouldn't like that better than the other way, I'm afraid?"
+
+"Oh, but it did though!" Bruno put in eagerly. "It were proud of its new
+tail! Oo never saw a Crocodile so proud! Why, it could go round and walk
+on the top of its tail, and along its back, all the way to its head!"
+
+{Image...A changed crocodile}
+
+"Not quite all the way," said Sylvie. "It couldn't, you know."
+
+"Ah, but it did, once!" Bruno cried triumphantly. "Oo weren't
+looking--but I watched it. And it walked on tippiety-toe, so as it
+wouldn't wake itself, 'cause it thought it were asleep. And it got both
+its paws on its tail. And it walked and it walked all the way along its
+back. And it walked and it walked on its forehead. And it walked a tiny
+little way down its nose! There now!"
+
+This was a good deal worse than the last puzzle. Please, dear Child,
+help again!
+
+"I don't believe no Crocodile never walked along its own forehead!"
+Sylvie cried, too much excited by the controversy to limit the number of
+her negatives.
+
+"Oo don't know the reason why it did it!" Bruno scornfully retorted. "It
+had a welly good reason. I heerd it say 'Why shouldn't I walk on my own
+forehead?' So a course it did, oo know!"
+
+"If that's a good reason, Bruno," I said, "why shouldn't you get up that
+tree?"
+
+"Shall, in a minute," said Bruno: "soon as we've done talking. Only two
+peoples ca'n't talk comfably togevver, when one's getting up a tree, and
+the other isn't!"
+
+It appeared to me that a conversation would scarcely be 'comfable' while
+trees were being climbed, even if both the 'peoples' were doing it: but
+it was evidently dangerous to oppose any theory of Bruno's; so I thought
+it best to let the question drop, and to ask for an account of the
+machine that made things longer.
+
+This time Bruno was at a loss, and left it to Sylvie. "It's like a
+mangle," she said: "if things are put in, they get squoze--"
+
+"Squeezeled!" Bruno interrupted.
+
+"Yes." Sylvie accepted the correction, but did not attempt to pronounce
+the word, which was evidently new to her. "They get--like that--and they
+come out, oh, ever so long!"
+
+"Once," Bruno began again, "Sylvie and me writed--"
+
+"Wrote!" Sylvie whispered.
+
+"Well, we wroted a Nursery-Song, and the Professor mangled it longer for
+us. It were 'There was a little Man, And he had a little gun, And the
+bullets--'"
+
+"I know the rest," I interrupted. "But would you say it long I mean the
+way that it came out of the mangle?"
+
+"We'll get the Professor to sing it for you," said Sylvie. "It would
+spoil it to say it."
+
+"I would like to meet the Professor," I said. "And I would like to take
+you all with me, to see some friends of mine, that live near here. Would
+you like to come?"
+
+"I don't think the Professor would like to come," said Sylvie. "He's
+very shy. But we'd like it very much. Only we'd better not come this
+size, you know."
+
+The difficulty had occurred to me already: and I had felt that perhaps
+there would be a slight awkwardness in introducing two such tiny friends
+into Society. "What size will you be?" I enquired.
+
+"We'd better come as--common children," Sylvie thoughtfully replied.
+"That's the easiest size to manage."
+
+"Could you come to-day?" I said, thinking "then we could have you at the
+picnic!"
+
+Sylvie considered a little. "Not to-day," she replied. "We haven't got
+the things ready. We'll come on--Tuesday next, if you like. And now,
+really Bruno, you must come and do your lessons."
+
+"I wiss oo wouldn't say 'really Bruno!'" the little fellow pleaded, with
+pouting lips that made him look prettier than ever. "It always show's
+there's something horrid coming! And I won't kiss you, if you're so
+unkind."
+
+"Ah, but you have kissed me!" Sylvie exclaimed in merry triumph.
+
+"Well then, I'll unkiss you!" And he threw his arms round her neck for
+this novel, but apparently not very painful, operation.
+
+"It's very like kissing!" Sylvie remarked, as soon as her lips were
+again free for speech.
+
+"Oo don't know nuffin about it! It were just the conkery!" Bruno replied
+with much severity, as he marched away.
+
+Sylvie turned her laughing face to me. "Shall we come on Tuesday?" she
+said.
+
+"Very well," I said: "let it be Tuesday next. But where is the
+Professor? Did he come with you to Fairyland?"
+
+"No," said Sylvie. "But he promised he'd come and see us, some day. He's
+getting his Lecture ready. So he has to stay at home."
+
+"At home?" I said dreamily, not feeling quite sure what she had said.
+
+"Yes, Sir. His Lordship and Lady Muriel are at home. Please to walk this
+way."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 17. THE THREE BADGERS.
+
+Still more dreamily I found myself following this imperious voice into
+a room where the Earl, his daughter, and Arthur, were seated. "So you're
+come at last!" said Lady Muriel, in a tone of playful reproach.
+
+"I was delayed," I stammered. Though what it was that had delayed me I
+should have been puzzled to explain! Luckily no questions were asked.
+
+The carriage was ordered round, the hamper, containing our contribution
+to the Picnic, was duly stowed away, and we set forth.
+
+There was no need for me to maintain the conversation. Lady Muriel and
+Arthur were evidently on those most delightful of terms, where one has
+no need to check thought after thought, as it rises to the lips, with
+the fear 'this will not be appreciated--this will give' offence--this
+will sound too serious--this will sound flippant': like very old
+friends, in fullest sympathy, their talk rippled on.
+
+"Why shouldn't we desert the Picnic and go in some other direction?" she
+suddenly suggested. "A party of four is surely self-sufficing? And as
+for food, our hamper--"
+
+"Why shouldn't we? What a genuine lady's argument!" laughed Arthur.
+"A lady never knows on which side the onus probandi--the burden of
+proving--lies!"
+
+"Do men always know?" she asked with a pretty assumption of meek
+docility.
+
+"With one exception--the only one I can think of Dr. Watts, who has
+asked the senseless question,
+
+
+    'Why should I deprive my neighbour
+    Of his goods against his will?'
+
+Fancy that as an argument for Honesty! His position seems to be 'I'm
+only honest because I see no reason to steal.' And the thief's answer
+is of course complete and crushing. 'I deprive my neighbour of his goods
+because I want them myself. And I do it against his will because there's
+no chance of getting him to consent to it!'"
+
+"I can give you one other exception," I said: "an argument I heard only
+to-day---and not by a lady. 'Why shouldn't I walk on my own forehead?'"
+
+"What a curious subject for speculation!" said Lady Muriel, turning to
+me, with eyes brimming over with laughter. "May we know who propounded
+the question? And did he walk on his own forehead?"
+
+"I ca'n't remember who it was that said it!" I faltered. "Nor where I
+heard it!"
+
+"Whoever it was, I hope we shall meet him at the Picnic!" said Lady
+Muriel. "It's a far more interesting question than 'Isn't this a
+picturesque ruin?' Aren't those autumn-tints lovely?' I shall have to
+answer those two questions ten times, at least, this afternoon!"
+
+"That's one of the miseries of Society!" said Arthur. "Why ca'n't people
+let one enjoy the beauties of Nature without having to say so every
+minute? Why should Life be one long Catechism?"
+
+"It's just as bad at a picture-gallery," the Earl remarked. "I went to
+the R.A. last May, with a conceited young artist: and he did torment me!
+I wouldn't have minded his criticizing the pictures himself: but I had
+to agree with him--or else to argue the point, which would have been
+worse!"
+
+"It was depreciatory criticism, of course?" said Arthur.
+
+"I don't see the 'of course' at all."
+
+"Why, did you ever know a conceited man dare to praise a picture?
+The one thing he dreads (next to not being noticed) is to be proved
+fallible! If you once praise a picture, your character for infallibility
+hangs by a thread. Suppose it's a figure-picture, and you venture to say
+'draws well.' Somebody measures it, and finds one of the proportions an
+eighth of an inch wrong. You are disposed of as a critic! 'Did you say
+he draws well?' your friends enquire sarcastically, while you hang your
+head and blush. No. The only safe course, if any one says 'draws well,'
+is to shrug your shoulders. 'Draws well?' you repeat thoughtfully.
+'Draws well? Humph!' That's the way to become a great critic!"
+
+Thus airily chatting, after a pleasant drive through a few miles of
+beautiful scenery, we reached the rendezvous--a ruined castle--where the
+rest of the picnic-party were already assembled. We spent an hour or
+two in sauntering about the ruins: gathering at last, by common consent,
+into a few random groups, seated on the side of a mound, which commanded
+a good view of the old castle and its surroundings.
+
+The momentary silence, that ensued, was promptly taken possession of or,
+more correctly, taken into custody--by a Voice; a voice so smooth, so
+monotonous, so sonorous, that one felt, with a shudder, that any other
+conversation was precluded, and that, unless some desperate remedy were
+adopted, we were fated to listen to a Lecture, of which no man could
+foresee the end!
+
+The speaker was a broadly-built man, whose large, flat, pale face was
+bounded on the North by a fringe of hair, on the East and West by a
+fringe of whisker, and on the South by a fringe of beard--the whole
+constituting a uniform halo of stubbly whitey-brown bristles. His
+features were so entirely destitute of expression that I could not
+help saying to myself--helplessly, as if in the clutches of a
+night-mare--"they are only penciled in: no final touches as yet!" And
+he had a way of ending every sentence with a sudden smile, which spread
+like a ripple over that vast blank surface, and was gone in a moment,
+leaving behind it such absolute solemnity that I felt impelled to murmur
+"it was not he: it was somebody else that smiled!"
+
+"Do you observe?" (such was the phrase with which the wretch began each
+sentence) "Do you observe the way in which that broken arch, at the very
+top of the ruin, stands out against the clear sky? It is placed exactly
+right: and there is exactly enough of it. A little more, or a little
+less, and all would be utterly spoiled!"
+
+{Image...A lecture, on art}
+
+"Oh gifted architect!" murmured Arthur, inaudibly to all but Lady Muriel
+and myself. "Foreseeing the exact effect his work would have, when in
+ruins, centuries after his death!"
+
+"And do you observe, where those trees slope down the hill," (indicating
+them with a sweep of the hand, and with all the patronising air of the
+man who has himself arranged the landscape), "how the mists rising from
+the river fill up exactly those intervals where we need indistinctness,
+for artistic effect? Here, in the foreground, a few clear touches
+are not amiss: but a back-ground without mist, you know! It is simply
+barbarous! Yes, we need indistinctness!"
+
+The orator looked so pointedly at me as he uttered these words, that I
+felt bound to reply, by murmuring something to the effect that I hardly
+felt the need myself--and that I enjoyed looking at a thing, better,
+when I could see it.
+
+"Quite so!" the great man sharply took me up. "From your point of view,
+that is correctly put. But for anyone who has a soul for Art, such a
+view is preposterous. Nature is one thing. Art is another. Nature shows
+us the world as it is. But Art--as a Latin author tells us--Art, you
+know the words have escaped my memory--"
+
+"Ars est celare Naturam," Arthur interposed with a delightful
+promptitude.
+
+"Quite so!" the orator replied with an air of relief. "I thank you! Ars
+est celare Naturam but that isn't it." And, for a few peaceful moments,
+the orator brooded, frowningly, over the quotation. The welcome
+opportunity was seized, and another voice struck into the silence.
+
+"What a lovely old ruin it is!" cried a young lady in spectacles, the
+very embodiment of the March of Mind, looking at Lady Muriel, as the
+proper recipient of all really original remarks. "And don't you admire
+those autumn-tints on the trees? I do, intensely!"
+
+Lady Muriel shot a meaning glance at me; but replied with admirable
+gravity. "Oh yes indeed, indeed! So true!"
+
+"And isn't strange," said the young lady, passing with startling
+suddenness from Sentiment to Science, "that the mere impact of certain
+coloured rays upon the Retina should give us such exquisite pleasure?"
+
+"You have studied Physiology, then?" a certain young Doctor courteously
+enquired.
+
+"Oh, yes! Isn't it a sweet Science?"
+
+Arthur slightly smiled. "It seems a paradox, does it not," he went on,
+"that the image formed on the Retina should be inverted?"
+
+"It is puzzling," she candidly admitted. "Why is it we do not see things
+upside-down?"
+
+"You have never heard the Theory, then, that the Brain also is
+inverted?"
+
+"No indeed! What a beautiful fact! But how is it proved?"
+
+"Thus," replied Arthur, with all the gravity of ten Professors rolled
+into one. "What we call the vertex of the Brain is really its base: and
+what we call its base is really its vertex: it is simply a question of
+nomenclature."
+
+This last polysyllable settled the matter.
+
+"How truly delightful!" the fair Scientist exclaimed with enthusiasm. "I
+shall ask our Physiological Lecturer why he never gave us that exquisite
+Theory!"
+
+"I'd give something to be present when the question is asked!" Arthur
+whispered to me, as, at a signal from Lady Muriel, we moved on to
+where the hampers had been collected, and devoted ourselves to the more
+substantial business of the day.
+
+We 'waited' on ourselves, as the modern barbarism (combining two good
+things in such a way as to secure the discomforts of both and the
+advantages of neither) of having a picnic with servants to wait upon
+you, had not yet reached this out-of-the-way region--and of course the
+gentlemen did not even take their places until the ladies had been duly
+provided with all imaginable creature-comforts. Then I supplied myself
+with a plate of something solid and a glass of something fluid, and
+found a place next to Lady Muriel.
+
+It had been left vacant--apparently for Arthur, as a distinguished
+stranger: but he had turned shy, and had placed himself next to the
+young lady in spectacles, whose high rasping voice had already
+cast loose upon Society such ominous phrases as "Man is a bundle of
+Qualities!", "the Objective is only attainable through the Subjective!".
+Arthur was bearing it bravely: but several faces wore a look of alarm,
+and I thought it high time to start some less metaphysical topic.
+
+"In my nursery days," I began, "when the weather didn't suit for an
+out-of-doors picnic, we were allowed to have a peculiar kind, that we
+enjoyed hugely. The table cloth was laid under the table, instead of
+upon it: we sat round it on the floor: and I believe we really enjoyed
+that extremely uncomfortable kind of dinner more than we ever did the
+orthodox arrangement!"
+
+"I've no doubt of it," Lady Muriel replied. "There's nothing a
+well-regulated child hates so much as regularity. I believe a really
+healthy boy would thoroughly enjoy Greek Grammar--if only he might stand
+on his head to learn it! And your carpet-dinner certainly spared you one
+feature of a picnic, which is to me its chief drawback."
+
+"The chance of a shower?" I suggested.
+
+"No, the chance--or rather the certainty of live things occurring in
+combination with one's food! Spiders are my bugbear. Now my father
+has no sympathy with that sentiment--have you, dear?" For the Earl had
+caught the word and turned to listen.
+
+"To each his sufferings, all are men," he replied in the sweet sad tones
+that seemed natural to him: "each has his pet aversion."
+
+"But you'll never guess his!" Lady Muriel said, with that delicate
+silvery laugh that was music to my ears.
+
+I declined to attempt the impossible.
+
+"He doesn't like snakes!" she said, in a stage whisper. "Now, isn't
+that an unreasonable aversion? Fancy not liking such a dear, coaxingly,
+clingingly affectionate creature as a snake!"
+
+"Not like snakes!" I exclaimed. "Is such a thing possible?"
+
+"No, he doesn't like them," she repeated with a pretty mock-gravity.
+"He's not afraid of them, you know. But he doesn't like them. He says
+they're too waggly!"
+
+I was more startled than I liked to show. There was something so uncanny
+in this echo of the very words I had so lately heard from that little
+forest-sprite, that it was only by a great effort I succeeded in saying,
+carelessly, "Let us banish so unpleasant a topic. Won't you sing us
+something, Lady Muriel? I know you do sing without music."
+
+"The only songs I know--without music--are desperately sentimental, I'm
+afraid! Are your tears all ready?"
+
+"Quite ready! Quite ready!" came from all sides, and Lady Muriel--not
+being one of those lady-singers who think it de rigueur to decline
+to sing till they have been petitioned three or four times, and have
+pleaded failure of memory, loss of voice, and other conclusive reasons
+for silence--began at once:--
+
+{Image...'Three badgers on a mossy stone'}
+
+
+     "There be three Badgers on a mossy stone,
+     Beside a dark and covered way:
+     Each dreams himself a monarch on his throne,
+     And so they stay and stay
+     Though their old Father languishes alone,
+     They stay, and stay, and stay.
+
+     "There be three Herrings loitering around,
+     Longing to share that mossy seat:
+     Each Herring tries to sing what she has found
+     That makes Life seem so sweet.
+     Thus, with a grating and uncertain sound,
+     They bleat, and bleat, and bleat,
+
+     "The Mother-Herring, on the salt sea-wave,
+     Sought vainly for her absent ones:
+     The Father-Badger, writhing in a cave,
+     Shrieked out 'Return, my sons!
+     You shalt have buns,' he shrieked, 'if you'll behave!
+     Yea, buns, and buns, and buns!'
+
+     "'I fear,' said she, 'your sons have gone astray?
+     My daughters left me while I slept.'
+     'Yes 'm,' the Badger said: 'it's as you say.'
+     'They should be better kept.'
+     Thus the poor parents talked the time away,
+     And wept, and wept, and wept."
+
+Here Bruno broke off suddenly. "The Herrings' Song wants anuvver tune,
+Sylvie," he said. "And I ca'n't sing it not wizout oo plays it for me!"
+
+{Image...'Three badgers, writhing in a cave'}
+
+Instantly Sylvie seated herself upon a tiny mushroom, that happened
+to grow in front of a daisy, as if it were the most ordinary musical
+instrument in the world, and played on the petals as if they were the
+notes of an organ. And such delicious tiny music it was! Such teeny-tiny
+music!
+
+Bruno held his head on one side, and listened very gravely for a few
+moments until he had caught the melody. Then the sweet childish voice
+rang out once more:--
+
+
+     "Oh, dear beyond our dearest dreams,
+     Fairer than all that fairest seems!
+     To feast the rosy hours away,
+     To revel in a roundelay!
+     How blest would be
+     A life so free---
+     Ipwergis-Pudding to consume,
+     And drink the subtle Azzigoom!
+
+     "And if in other days and hours,
+     Mid other fluffs and other flowers,
+     The choice were given me how to dine---
+     'Name what thou wilt: it shalt be thine!'
+     Oh, then I see
+     The life for me
+     Ipwergis-Pudding to consume,
+     And drink the subtle Azzigoom!"
+
+"Oo may leave off playing now, Sylvie. I can do the uvver tune much
+better wizout a compliment."
+
+"He means 'without accompaniment,'" Sylvie whispered, smiling at my
+puzzled look: and she pretended to shut up the stops of the organ.
+
+
+    "The Badgers did not care to talk to Fish:
+    They did not dote on Herrings' songs:
+    They never had experienced the dish
+    To which that name belongs:
+    And oh, to pinch their tails,' (this was their wish,)
+    'With tongs, yea, tongs, and tongs!'"
+
+I ought to mention that he marked the parenthesis, in the air, with his
+finger. It seemed to me a very good plan. You know there's no sound to
+represent it--any more than there is for a question.
+
+Suppose you have said to your friend "You are better to-day," and that
+you want him to understand that you are asking him a question, what
+can be simpler than just to make a "?". in the air with your finger? He
+would understand you in a moment!
+
+{Image...'Those aged one waxed gay'}
+
+
+     "'And are not these the Fish,' the Eldest sighed,
+     'Whose Mother dwells beneath the foam'
+     'They are the Fish!' the Second one replied.
+     'And they have left their home!'
+     'Oh wicked Fish,' the Youngest Badger cried,
+     'To roam, yea, roam, and roam!'
+     "Gently the Badgers trotted to the shore
+     The sandy shore that fringed the bay:
+     Each in his mouth a living Herring bore--
+     Those aged ones waxed gay:
+     Clear rang their voices through the ocean's roar,
+     'Hooray, hooray, hooray!'"
+
+"So they all got safe home again," Bruno said, after waiting a minute to
+see if I had anything to say: he evidently felt that some remark ought
+to be made. And I couldn't help wishing there were some such rule in
+Society, at the conclusion of a song--that the singer herself should say
+the right thing, and not leave it to the audience. Suppose a young lady
+has just been warbling ('with a grating and uncertain sound') Shelley's
+exquisite lyric 'I arise from dreams of thee': how much nicer it would
+be, instead of your having to say "Oh, thank you, thank you!" for the
+young lady herself to remark, as she draws on her gloves, while the
+impassioned words 'Oh, press it to thine own, or it will break at last!'
+are still ringing in your ears, "--but she wouldn't do it, you know. So
+it did break at last."
+
+"And I knew it would!" she added quietly, as I started at the sudden
+crash of broken glass. "You've been holding it sideways for the last
+minute, and letting all the champagne run out! Were you asleep, I
+wonder? I'm so sorry my singing has such a narcotic effect!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 18. QUEER STREET, NUMBER FORTY.
+
+Lady Muriel was the speaker. And, for the moment, that was the only fact
+I could clearly realise. But how she came to be there and how I came
+to be there--and how the glass of champagne came to be there--all these
+were questions which I felt it better to think out in silence, and not
+commit myself to any statement till I understood things a little more
+clearly.
+
+'First accumulate a mass of Facts: and then construct a Theory.' That,
+I believe, is the true Scientific Method. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and
+began to accumulate Facts.
+
+A smooth grassy slope, bounded, at the upper end, by venerable ruins
+half buried in ivy, at the lower, by a stream seen through arching
+trees--a dozen gaily-dressed people, seated in little groups here and
+there--some open hampers--the debris of a picnic--such were the
+Facts accumulated by the Scientific Researcher. And now, what deep,
+far-reaching Theory was he to construct from them? The Researcher found
+himself at fault. Yet stay! One Fact had escaped his notice. While all
+the rest were grouped in twos and in threes, Arthur was alone: while all
+tongues were talking, his was silent: while all faces were gay, his was
+gloomy and despondent. Here was a Fact indeed! The Researcher felt that
+a Theory must be constructed without delay.
+
+Lady Muriel had just risen and left the party. Could that be the cause
+of his despondency? The Theory hardly rose to the dignity of a Working
+Hypothesis. Clearly more Facts were needed.
+
+The Researcher looked round him once more: and now the Facts accumulated
+in such bewildering profusion, that the Theory was lost among them. For
+Lady Muriel had gone to meet a strange gentleman, just visible in the
+distance: and now she was returning with him, both of them talking
+eagerly and joyfully, like old friends who have been long parted: and
+now she was moving from group to group, introducing the new hero of the
+hour: and he, young, tall, and handsome, moved gracefully at her side,
+with the erect bearing and firm tread of a soldier. Verily, the Theory
+looked gloomy for Arthur! His eye caught mine, and he crossed to me.
+
+"He is very handsome," I said.
+
+"Abominably handsome!" muttered Arthur: then smiled at his own bitter
+words. "Lucky no one heard me but you!"
+
+"Doctor Forester," said Lady Muriel, who had just joined us, "let me
+introduce to you my cousin Eric Lindon Captain Lindon, I should say."
+
+Arthur shook off his ill-temper instantly and completely, as he rose and
+gave the young soldier his hand. "I have heard of you," he said. "I'm
+very glad to make the acquaintance of Lady Muriel's cousin."
+
+"Yes, that's all I'm distinguished for, as yet!" said Eric (so we soon
+got to call him) with a winning smile. "And I doubt," glancing at Lady
+Muriel, "if it even amounts to a good-conduct-badge! But it's something
+to begin with."
+
+"You must come to my father, Eric," said Lady Muriel. "I think he's
+wandering among the ruins." And the pair moved on.
+
+The gloomy look returned to Arthur's face: and I could see it was only
+to distract his thoughts that he took his place at the side of the
+metaphysical young lady, and resumed their interrupted discussion.
+
+"Talking of Herbert Spencer," he began, "do you really find no logical
+difficulty in regarding Nature as a process of involution, passing from
+definite coherent homogeneity to indefinite incoherent heterogeneity?"
+
+Amused as I was at the ingenious jumble he had made of Spencer's words,
+I kept as grave a face as I could.
+
+"No physical difficulty," she confidently replied: "but I haven't
+studied Logic much. Would you state the difficulty?"
+
+"Well," said Arthur, "do you accept it as self-evident? Is it as
+obvious, for instance, as that 'things that are greater than the same
+are greater than one another'?"
+
+"To my mind," she modestly replied, "it seems quite as obvious. I grasp
+both truths by intuition. But other minds may need some logical--I
+forget the technical terms."
+
+"For a complete logical argument," Arthur began with admirable
+solemnity, "we need two prim Misses--"
+
+"Of course!" she interrupted. "I remember that word now. And they
+produce--?"
+
+"A Delusion," said Arthur.
+
+"Ye--es?" she said dubiously. "I don't seem to remember that so well.
+But what is the whole argument called?"
+
+"A Sillygism?
+
+"Ah, yes! I remember now. But I don't need a Sillygism, you know, to
+prove that mathematical axiom you mentioned."
+
+"Nor to prove that 'all angles are equal', I suppose?"
+
+"Why, of course not! One takes such a simple truth as that for granted!"
+
+Here I ventured to interpose, and to offer her a plate of strawberries
+and cream. I felt really uneasy at the thought that she might detect the
+trick: and I contrived, unperceived by her, to shake my head reprovingly
+at the pseudo-philosopher. Equally unperceived by her, Arthur slightly
+raised his shoulders, and spread his hands abroad, as who should say
+"What else can I say to her?" and moved away, leaving her to discuss her
+strawberries by 'involution,' or any other way she preferred.
+
+By this time the carriages, that were to convey the revelers to their
+respective homes, had begun to assemble outside the Castle-grounds: and
+it became evident--now that Lady Muriel's cousin had joined our party
+that the problem, how to convey five people to Elveston, with a carriage
+that would only hold four, must somehow be solved.
+
+The Honorable Eric Lindon, who was at this moment walking up and down
+with Lady Muriel, might have solved it at once, no doubt, by announcing
+his intention of returning on foot. Of this solution there did not seem
+to be the very smallest probability.
+
+The next best solution, it seemed to me, was that I should walk home:
+and this I at once proposed.
+
+"You're sure you don't mind?" said the Earl. "I'm afraid the carriage
+wont take us all, and I don't like to suggest to Eric to desert his
+cousin so soon."
+
+"So far from minding it," I said, "I should prefer it. It will give me
+time to sketch this beautiful old ruin."
+
+"I'll keep you company," Arthur suddenly said. And, in answer to what
+I suppose was a look of surprise on my face, he said in a low voice, "I
+really would rather. I shall be quite de trop in the carriage!"
+
+"I think I'll walk too," said the Earl. "You'll have to be content with
+Eric as your escort," he added, to Lady Muriel, who had joined us while
+he was speaking.
+
+"You must be as entertaining as Cerberus--'three gentlemen rolled into
+one'--" Lady Muriel said to her companion. "It will be a grand military
+exploit!"
+
+"A sort of Forlorn Hope?" the Captain modestly suggested.
+
+"You do pay pretty compliments!" laughed his fair cousin. "Good day to
+you, gentlemen three--or rather deserters three!" And the two young folk
+entered the carriage and were driven away.
+
+"How long will your sketch take?" said Arthur.
+
+"Well," I said, "I should like an hour for it. Don't you think you had
+better go without me? I'll return by train. I know there's one in about
+an hour's time."
+
+"Perhaps that would be best," said the Earl. "The Station is quite
+close."
+
+So I was left to my own devices, and soon found a comfortable seat, at
+the foot of a tree, from which I had a good view of the ruins.
+
+"It is a very drowsy day," I said to myself, idly turning over the
+leaves of the sketch-book to find a blank page. "Why, I thought you were
+a mile off by this time!" For, to my surprise, the two walkers were back
+again.
+
+"I came back to remind you," Arthur said, "that the trains go every ten
+minutes--"
+
+"Nonsense!" I said. "It isn't the Metropolitan Railway!"
+
+"It is the Metropolitan Railway," the Earl insisted. "'This is a part of
+Kensington."
+
+"Why do you talk with your eyes shut?" said Arthur. "Wake up!"
+
+"I think it's the heat makes me so drowsy," I said, hoping, but not
+feeling quite sure, that I was talking sense. "Am I awake now?"
+
+"I think not," the Earl judicially pronounced. "What do you think,
+Doctor? He's only got one eye open!"
+
+"And he's snoring like anything!" cried Bruno. "Do wake up, you dear old
+thing!" And he and Sylvie set to work, rolling the heavy head from side
+to side, as if its connection with the shoulders was a matter of no sort
+of importance.
+
+And at last the Professor opened his eyes, and sat up, blinking at
+us with eyes of utter bewilderment. "Would you have the kindness to
+mention," he said, addressing me with his usual old-fashioned courtesy,
+"whereabouts we are just now and who we are, beginning with me?"
+
+I thought it best to begin with the children. "This is Sylvie. Sir; and
+this is Bruno."
+
+"Ah, yes! I know them well enough!" the old man murmured. "Its myself
+I'm most anxious about. And perhaps you'll be good enough to mention, at
+the same time, how I got here?"
+
+"A harder problem occurs to me," I ventured to say: "and that is, how
+you're to get back again."
+
+"True, true!" the Professor replied. "That's the Problem, no doubt.
+Viewed as a Problem, outside of oneself, it is a most interesting one.
+Viewed as a portion of one's own biography, it is, I must admit, very
+distressing!" He groaned, but instantly added, with a chuckle, "As to
+myself, I think you mentioned that I am--"
+
+"Oo're the Professor!" Bruno shouted in his ear. "Didn't oo know that?
+Oo've come from Outland! And it's ever so far away from here!"
+
+The Professor leapt to his feet with the agility of a boy. "Then there's
+no time to lose!" he exclaimed anxiously. "I'll just ask this guileless
+peasant, with his brace of buckets that contain (apparently) water, if
+he'll be so kind as to direct us. Guileless peasant!" he proceeded in a
+louder voice. "Would you tell us the way to Outland?"
+
+The guileless peasant turned with a sheepish grin. "Hey?" was all he
+said.
+
+"The way--to--Outland!" the Professor repeated.
+
+The guileless peasant set down his buckets and considered. "Ah dunnot--"
+
+"I ought to mention," the Professor hastily put in, "that whatever you
+say will be used in evidence against you."
+
+The guileless peasant instantly resumed his buckets. "Then ah says
+nowt!" he answered briskly, and walked away at a great pace.
+
+The children gazed sadly at the rapidly vanishing figure. "He goes very
+quick!" the Professor said with a sigh. "But I know that was the right
+thing to say. I've studied your English Laws. However, let's ask
+this next man that's coming. He is not guileless, and he is not a
+peasant--but I don't know that either point is of vital importance."
+
+It was, in fact, the Honourable Eric Lindon, who had apparently
+fulfilled his task of escorting Lady Muriel home, and was now strolling
+leisurely up and down the road outside the house, enjoying; a solitary
+cigar.
+
+"Might I trouble you, Sir, to tell us the nearest way to Outland!"
+Oddity as he was, in outward appearance, the Professor was, in that
+essential nature which no outward disguise could conceal, a thorough
+gentleman.
+
+And, as such, Eric Lindon accepted him instantly. He took the cigar from
+his mouth, and delicately shook off the ash, while he considered. "The
+name sounds strange to me," he said. "I doubt if I can help you?'
+
+"It is not very far from Fairyland," the Professor suggested.
+
+Eric Lindon's eye-brows were slightly raised at these words, and an
+amused smile, which he courteously tried to repress, flitted across his
+handsome face: "A trifle cracked!" he muttered to himself. "But what a
+jolly old patriarch it is!" Then he turned to the children. "And ca'n't
+you help him, little folk?" he said, with a gentleness of tone that
+seemed to win their hearts at once. "Surely you know all about it?
+
+
+    'How many miles to Babylon?
+    Three-score miles and ten.
+    Can I get there by candlelight?
+    Yes, and back again!'"
+
+To my surprise, Bruno ran forwards to him, as if he were some old friend
+of theirs, seized the disengaged hand and hung on to it with both of his
+own: and there stood this tall dignified officer in the middle of the
+road, gravely swinging a little boy to and fro, while Sylvie stood ready
+to push him, exactly as if a real swing had suddenly been provided for
+their pastime.
+
+"We don't want to get to Babylon, oo know!" Bruno explained as he swung.
+
+"And it isn't candlelight: it's daylight!" Sylvie added, giving the
+swing a push of extra vigour, which nearly took the whole machine off
+its balance.
+
+By this time it was clear to me that Eric Lindon was quite unconscious
+of my presence. Even the Professor and the children seemed to have lost
+sight of me: and I stood in the midst of the group, as unconcernedly as
+a ghost, seeing but unseen.
+
+"How perfectly isochronous!" the Professor exclaimed with enthusiasm.
+He had his watch in his hand, and was carefully counting Bruno's
+oscillations. "He measures time quite as accurately as a pendulum!"
+{Image...'How perfectly isochronous!'}
+
+"Yet even pendulums," the good-natured young soldier observed, as he
+carefully released his hand from Bruno's grasp, "are not a joy for ever!
+Come, that's enough for one bout, little man!' Next time we meet, you
+shall have another. Meanwhile you'd better take this old gentleman to
+Queer Street, Number--"
+
+"We'll find it!" cried Bruno eagerly, as they dragged the Professor
+away.
+
+"We are much indebted to you!" the Professor said, looking over his
+shoulder.
+
+"Don't mention it!" replied the officer, raising his hat as a parting
+salute.
+
+"What number did you say!" the Professor called from the distance.
+
+The officer made a trumpet of his two hands. "Forty!" he shouted in
+stentorian tones. "And not piano, by any means!" he added to himself.
+"It's a mad world, my masters, a mad world!" He lit another cigar, and
+strolled on towards his hotel.
+
+"What a lovely evening!" I said, joining him as he passed me.
+
+"Lovely indeed," he said. "Where did you come from? Dropped from the
+clouds?"
+
+"I'm strolling your way," I said; and no further explanation seemed
+necessary.
+
+"Have a cigar?"
+
+"Thanks: I'm not a smoker."
+
+"Is there a Lunatic Asylum near here?"
+
+"Not that I know of."
+
+"Thought there might be. Met a lunatic just now. Queer old fish as ever
+I saw!"
+
+And so, in friendly chat, we took our homeward ways, and wished each
+other 'good-night' at the door of his hotel.
+
+Left to myself, I felt the 'eerie' feeling rush over me again, and saw,
+standing at the door of Number Forty, the three figures I knew so well.
+
+"Then it's the wrong house?" Bruno was saying.
+
+"No, no! It's the right house," the Professor cheerfully replied: "but
+it's the wrong street. That's where we've made our mistake! Our best
+plan, now, will be to--"
+
+It was over. The street was empty, Commonplace life was around me, and
+the 'eerie' feeling had fled.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 19. HOW TO MAKE A PHLIZZ.
+
+The week passed without any further communication with the 'Hall,' as
+Arthur was evidently fearful that we might 'wear out our welcome'; but
+when, on Sunday morning, we were setting out for church, I gladly agreed
+to his proposal to go round and enquire after the Earl, who was said to
+be unwell.
+
+Eric, who was strolling in the garden, gave us a good report of the
+invalid, who was still in bed, with Lady Muriel in attendance.
+
+"Are you coming with us to church?" I enquired.
+
+"Thanks, no," he courteously replied. "It's not--exactly in my line, you
+know. It's an excellent institution--for the poor. When I'm with my own
+folk, I go, just to set them an example. But I'm not known here: so I
+think I'll excuse myself sitting out a sermon. Country-preachers are
+always so dull!"
+
+Arthur was silent till we were out of hearing. Then he said to himself,
+almost inaudibly, "Where two or three are gathered together in my name,
+there am I in the midst of them."
+
+"Yes," I assented: "no doubt that is the principle on which church-going
+rests."
+
+"And when he does go," he continued (our thoughts ran so much together,
+that our conversation was often slightly elliptical), "I suppose he
+repeats the words 'I believe in the Communion of Saints'?"
+
+But by this time we had reached the little church, into which a goodly
+stream of worshipers, consisting mainly of fishermen and their families,
+was flowing.
+
+The service would have been pronounced by any modern aesthetic
+religionist--or religious aesthete, which is it?--to be crude and cold:
+to me, coming fresh from the ever-advancing developments of a London
+church under a soi-disant 'Catholic' Rector, it was unspeakably
+refreshing.
+
+There was no theatrical procession of demure little choristers, trying
+their best not to simper under the admiring gaze of the congregation:
+the people's share in the service was taken by the people themselves,
+unaided, except that a few good voices, judiciously posted here and
+there among them, kept the singing from going too far astray.
+
+There was no murdering of the noble music, contained in the Bible and
+the Liturgy, by its recital in a dead monotone, with no more expression
+than a mechanical talking-doll.
+
+No, the prayers were prayed, the lessons were read, and best of all the
+sermon was talked; and I found myself repeating, as we left the church,
+the words of Jacob, when he 'awaked out of his sleep.' "'Surely the Lord
+is in this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is
+the gate of heaven.'"
+
+"Yes," said Arthur, apparently in answer to my thoughts, "those 'high'
+services are fast becoming pure Formalism. More and more the people are
+beginning to regard them as 'performances,' in which they only 'assist'
+in the French sense. And it is specially bad for the little boys.
+They'd be much less self-conscious as pantomime-fairies. With all
+that dressing-up, and stagy-entrances and exits, and being always en
+evidence, no wonder if they're eaten up with vanity, the blatant little
+coxcombs!"
+
+When we passed the Hall on our return, we found the Earl and Lady Muriel
+sitting out in the garden. Eric had gone for a stroll.
+
+We joined them, and the conversation soon turned on the sermon we had
+just heard, the subject of which was 'selfishness.'
+
+"What a change has come over our pulpits," Arthur remarked, "since the
+time when Paley gave that utterly selfish definition of virtue, 'the
+doing good to mankind, in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake
+of everlasting happiness'!"
+
+Lady Muriel looked at him enquiringly, but she seemed to have learned
+by intuition, what years of experience had taught me, that the way to
+elicit Arthur's deepest thoughts was neither to assent nor dissent, but
+simply to listen.
+
+"At that time," he went on, "a great tidal wave of selfishness
+was sweeping over human thought. Right and Wrong had somehow been
+transformed into Gain and Loss, and Religion had become a sort of
+commercial transaction. We may be thankful that our preachers are
+beginning to take a nobler view of life."
+
+"But is it not taught again and again in the Bible?" I ventured to ask.
+
+"Not in the Bible as a whole," said Arthur. "In the Old Testament, no
+doubt, rewards and punishments are constantly appealed to as motives for
+action. That teaching is best for children, and the Israelites seem
+to have been, mentally, utter children. We guide our children thus,
+at first: but we appeal, as soon as possible, to their innate sense of
+Right and Wrong: and, when that stage is safely past, we appeal to the
+highest motive of all, the desire for likeness to, and union with,
+the Supreme Good. I think you will find that to be the teaching of the
+Bible, as a whole, beginning with 'that thy days may be long in the
+land,' and ending with 'be ye perfect, even as your Father which is in
+heaven is perfect.'"
+
+We were silent for awhile, and then Arthur went off on another tack.
+"Look at the literature of Hymns, now. How cankered it is, through and
+through, with selfishness! There are few human compositions more utterly
+degraded than some modern Hymns!"
+
+I quoted the stanza
+
+
+    "Whatever, Lord, we tend to Thee,
+    Repaid a thousandfold shall be,
+    Then gladly will we give to Thee,
+    Giver of all!'
+
+"Yes," he said grimly: "that is the typical stanza. And the very last
+charity-sermon I heard was infected with it. After giving many good
+reasons for charity, the preacher wound up with 'and, for all you give,
+you will be repaid a thousandfold!' Oh the utter meanness of such a
+motive, to be put before men who do know what self-sacrifice is, who
+can appreciate generosity and heroism! Talk of Original Sin!" he went
+on with increasing bitterness. "Can you have a stronger proof of the
+Original Goodness there must be in this nation, than the fact that
+Religion has been preached to us, as a commercial speculation, for a
+century, and that we still believe in a God?"
+
+"It couldn't have gone on so long," Lady Muriel musingly remarked, "if
+the Opposition hadn't been practically silenced--put under what the
+French call la cloture. Surely in any lecture-hall, or in private
+society, such teaching would soon have been hooted down?"
+
+"I trust so," said Arthur: "and, though I don't want to see 'brawling
+in church' legalised, I must say that our preachers enjoy an enormous
+privilege--which they ill deserve, and which they misuse terribly. We
+put our man into a pulpit, and we virtually tell him 'Now, you may stand
+there and talk to us for half-an-hour. We won't interrupt you by so much
+as a word! You shall have it all your own way!' And what does he give
+us in return? Shallow twaddle, that, if it were addressed to you over a
+dinner-table, you would think 'Does the man take me for a fool?'"
+
+The return of Eric from his walk checked the tide of Arthur's eloquence,
+and, after a few minutes' talk on more conventional topics, we took our
+leave. Lady Muriel walked with us to the gate. "You have given me much
+to think about," she said earnestly, as she gave Arthur her hand. "I'm
+so glad you came in!" And her words brought a real glow of pleasure into
+that pale worn face of his.
+
+On the Tuesday, as Arthur did not seem equal to more walking, I took
+a long stroll by myself, having stipulated that he was not to give
+the whole day to his books, but was to meet me at the Hall at
+about tea-time. On my way back, I passed the Station just as the
+afternoon-train came in sight, and sauntered down the stairs to see it
+come in. But there was little to gratify my idle curiosity: and, when
+the train was empty, and the platform clear, I found it was about time
+to be moving on, if I meant to reach the Hall by five.
+
+As I approached the end of the platform, from which a steep irregular
+wooden staircase conducted to the upper world, I noticed two passengers,
+who had evidently arrived by the train, but who, oddly enough, had
+entirely escaped my notice, though the arrivals had been so few. They
+were a young woman and a little girl: the former, so far as one could
+judge by appearances, was a nursemaid, or possibly a nursery-governess,
+in attendance on the child, whose refined face, even more than her
+dress, distinguished her as of a higher class than her companion.
+
+The child's face was refined, but it was also a worn and sad one, and
+told a tale (or so I seemed to read it) of much illness and suffering,
+sweetly and patiently borne. She had a little crutch to help herself
+along with: and she was now standing, looking wistfully up the long
+staircase, and apparently waiting till she could muster courage to begin
+the toilsome ascent.
+
+There are some things one says in life--as well as things one
+does--which come automatically, by reflex action, as the physiologists
+say (meaning, no doubt, action without reflection, just as lucus is said
+to be derived 'a non lucendo'). Closing one's eyelids, when something
+seems to be flying into the eye, is one of those actions, and saying
+"May I carry the little girl up the stairs?" was another. It wasn't that
+any thought of offering help occurred to me, and that then I spoke:
+the first intimation I had, of being likely to make that offer, was the
+sound of my own voice, and the discovery that the offer had been made.
+The servant paused, doubtfully glancing from her charge to me, and then
+back again to the child. "Would you like it, dear?" she asked her. But
+no such doubt appeared to cross the child's mind: she lifted her arms
+eagerly to be taken up. "Please!" was all she said, while a faint smile
+flickered on the weary little face. I took her up with scrupulous care,
+and her little arm was at once clasped trustfully round my neck.
+
+{Image...The lame child}
+
+She was a very light weight--so light, in fact, that the ridiculous idea
+crossed my mind that it was rather easier going up, with her in my
+arms, than it would have been without her: and, when we reached the road
+above, with its cart-ruts and loose stones--all formidable obstacles for
+a lame child--I found that I had said "I'd better carry her over this
+rough place," before I had formed any mental connection between its
+roughness and my gentle little burden. "Indeed it's troubling you too
+much, Sir!" the maid exclaimed. "She can walk very well on the flat."
+But the arm, that was twined about my neck, clung just an atom more
+closely at the suggestion, and decided me to say "She's no weight,
+really. I'll carry her a little further. I'm going your way."
+
+The nurse raised no further objection: and the next speaker was a ragged
+little boy, with bare feet, and a broom over his shoulder, who ran
+across the road, and pretended to sweep the perfectly dry road in front
+of us. "Give us a 'ap'ny!" the little urchin pleaded, with a broad grin
+on his dirty face.
+
+"Don't give him a 'ap'ny!" said the little lady in my arms. The words
+sounded harsh: but the tone was gentleness itself. "He's an idle little
+boy!" And she laughed a laugh of such silvery sweetness as I had never
+yet heard from any lips but Sylvie's. To my astonishment, the boy
+actually joined in the laugh, as if there were some subtle sympathy
+between them, as he ran away down the road and vanished through a gap in
+the hedge.
+
+But he was back in a few moments, having discarded his broom and
+provided himself, from some mysterious source, with an exquisite bouquet
+of flowers. "Buy a posy, buy a posy! Only a 'ap'ny!" he chanted, with
+the melancholy drawl of a professional beggar.
+
+"Don't buy it!" was Her Majesty's edict as she looked down, with a lofty
+scorn that seemed curiously mixed with tender interest, on the ragged
+creature at her feet.
+
+But this time I turned rebel, and ignored the royal commands. Such
+lovely flowers, and of forms so entirely new to me, were not to be
+abandoned at the bidding of any little maid, however imperious. I bought
+the bouquet: and the little boy, after popping the halfpenny into his
+mouth, turned head-over-heels, as if to ascertain whether the human
+mouth is really adapted to serve as a money-box.
+
+With wonder, that increased every moment, I turned over the flowers, and
+examined them one by one: there was not a single one among them that
+I could remember having ever seen before. At last I turned to the
+nursemaid. "Do these flowers grow wild about here? I never saw--" but
+the speech died away on my lips. The nursemaid had vanished!
+
+"You can put me down, now, if you like," Sylvie quietly remarked.
+
+I obeyed in silence, and could only ask myself "Is this a dream?", on
+finding Sylvie and Bruno walking one on either side of me, and clinging
+to my hands with the ready confidence of childhood.
+
+"You're larger than when I saw you last!" I began. "Really I think we
+ought to be introduced again! There's so much of you that I never met
+before, you know."
+
+"Very well!" Sylvie merrily replied. "This is Bruno. It doesn't take
+long. He's only got one name!"
+
+"There's another name to me!" Bruno protested, with a reproachful look
+at the Mistress of the Ceremonies. "And it's--' Esquire'!"
+
+"Oh, of course. I forgot," said Sylvie. "Bruno--Esquire!"
+
+"And did you come here to meet me, my children?" I enquired.
+
+"You know I said we'd come on Tuesday," Sylvie explained. "Are we the
+proper size for common children?"
+
+"Quite the right size for children," I replied, (adding mentally "though
+not common children, by any means!") "But what became of the nursemaid?"
+
+"It are gone!" Bruno solemnly replied.
+
+"Then it wasn't solid, like Sylvie and you?"
+
+"No. Oo couldn't touch it, oo know. If oo walked at it, oo'd go right
+froo!"
+
+"I quite expected you'd find it out, once," said Sylvie. "Bruno ran it
+against a telegraph post, by accident. And it went in two halves. But
+you were looking the other way."
+
+I felt that I had indeed missed an opportunity: to witness such an
+event as a nursemaid going 'in two halves' does not occur twice in a
+life-time!
+
+"When did oo guess it were Sylvie?" Bruno enquired.
+
+{Image...'It went in two halves'}
+
+"I didn't guess it, till it was Sylvie," I said. "But how did you manage
+the nursemaid?"
+
+"Bruno managed it," said Sylvie. "It's called a Phlizz."
+
+"And how do you make a Phlizz, Bruno?"
+
+"The Professor teached me how," said Bruno. "First oo takes a lot of
+air--"
+
+"Oh, Bruno!" Sylvie interposed. "The Professor said you weren't to
+tell!"
+
+"But who did her voice?" I asked.
+
+"Indeed it's troubling you too much, Sir! She can walk very well on the
+flat."
+
+Bruno laughed merrily as I turned hastily from side to side, looking in
+all directions for the speaker. "That were me!" he gleefully proclaimed,
+in his own voice.
+
+"She can indeed walk very well on the flat," I said. "And I think I was
+the Flat."
+
+By this time we were near the Hall. "This is where my friends live," I
+said. "Will you come in and have some tea with them?"
+
+Bruno gave a little jump of joy: and Sylvie said "Yes, please. You'd
+like some tea, Bruno, wouldn't you? He hasn't tasted tea," she explained
+to me, "since we left Outland."
+
+"And that weren't good tea!" said Bruno. "It were so welly weak!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 20. LIGHT COME, LIGHT GO.
+
+Lady Muriel's smile of welcome could not quite conceal the look of
+surprise with which she regarded my new companions.
+
+I presented them in due form. "This is Sylvie, Lady Muriel. And this is
+Bruno."
+
+"Any surname?" she enquired, her eyes twinkling with fun.
+
+"No," I said gravely. "No surname."
+
+She laughed, evidently thinking I said it in fun; and stooped to kiss
+the children a salute to which Bruno submitted with reluctance: Sylvie
+returned it with interest.
+
+While she and Arthur (who had arrived before me) supplied the children
+with tea and cake, I tried to engage the Earl in conversation: but he
+was restless and distrait, and we made little progress. At last, by a
+sudden question, he betrayed the cause of his disquiet.
+
+"Would you let me look at those flowers you have in your hand?"
+
+"Willingly!" I said, handing him the bouquet. Botany was, I knew, a
+favourite study of his: and these flowers were to me so entirely new and
+mysterious, that I was really curious to see what a botanist would say
+of them.
+
+They did not diminish his disquiet. On the contrary, he became every
+moment more excited as he turned them over. "These are all from Central
+India!" he said, laying aside part of the bouquet. "They are rare, even
+there: and I have never seen them in any other part of the world. These
+two are Mexican--This one--" (He rose hastily, and carried it to
+the window, to examine it in a better light, the flush of excitement
+mounting to his very forehead) "--is, I am nearly sure--but I have a
+book of Indian Botany here--" He took a volume from the book-shelves,
+and turned the leaves with trembling fingers. "Yes! Compare it with this
+picture! It is the exact duplicate! This is the flower of the Upas-tree,
+which usually grows only in the depths of forests; and the flower fades
+so quickly after being plucked, that it is scarcely possible to keep its
+form or colour even so far as the outskirts of the forest! Yet this
+is in full bloom! Where did you get these flowers?" he added with
+breathless eagerness.
+
+I glanced at Sylvie, who, gravely and silently, laid her finger on her
+lips, then beckoned to Bruno to follow her, and ran out into the
+garden; and I found myself in the position of a defendant whose two most
+important witnesses have been suddenly taken away. "Let me give you the
+flowers!" I stammered out at last, quite 'at my wit's end' as to how to
+get out of the difficulty. "You know much more about them than I do!"
+
+"I accept them most gratefully! But you have not yet told me--" the
+Earl was beginning, when we were interrupted, to my great relief, by the
+arrival of Eric Lindon.
+
+To Arthur, however, the new-comer was, I saw clearly, anything but
+welcome. His face clouded over: he drew a little back from the
+circle, and took no further part in the conversation, which was wholly
+maintained, for some minutes, by Lady Muriel and her lively cousin, who
+were discussing some new music that had just arrived from London.
+
+"Do just try this one!" he pleaded. "The music looks easy to sing at
+sight, and the song's quite appropriate to the occasion."
+
+"Then I suppose it's
+
+
+    'Five o'clock tea!
+    Ever to thee
+    Faithful I'll be,
+    Five o'clock tea!"'
+
+laughed Lady Muriel, as she sat down to the piano, and lightly struck a
+few random chords.
+
+"Not quite: and yet it is a kind of 'ever to thee faithful I'll be!'
+It's a pair of hapless lovers: he crosses the briny deep: and she is
+left lamenting."
+
+"That is indeed appropriate!" she replied mockingly, as he placed the
+song before her. "And am I to do the lamenting? And who for, if you
+please?"
+
+She played the air once or twice through, first in quick, and finally in
+slow, time; and then gave us the whole song with as much graceful ease
+as if she had been familiar with it all her life:--
+
+
+    "He stept so lightly to the land,
+    All in his manly pride:
+    He kissed her cheek, he pressed her hand,
+    Yet still she glanced aside.
+    'Too gay he seems,' she darkly dreams,
+    'Too gallant and too gay
+    To think of me--poor simple me---
+    When he is far away!'
+
+    'I bring my Love this goodly pearl
+    Across the seas,' he said:
+    'A gem to deck the dearest girl
+    That ever sailor wed!'
+    She clasps it tight: her eyes are bright:
+    Her throbbing heart would say
+    'He thought of me--he thought of me---
+    When he was far away!'
+
+    The ship has sailed into the West:
+    Her ocean-bird is flown:
+    A dull dead pain is in her breast,
+    And she is weak and lone:
+    Yet there's a smile upon her face,
+    A smile that seems to say
+    'He'll think of me he'll think of me---
+    When he is far away!
+
+    'Though waters wide between us glide,
+    Our lives are warm and near:
+    No distance parts two faithful hearts
+    Two hearts that love so dear:
+    And I will trust my sailor-lad,
+    For ever and a day,
+    To think of me--to think of me---
+    When he is far away!'"
+
+The look of displeasure, which had begun to come over Arthur's face
+when the young Captain spoke of Love so lightly, faded away as the song
+proceeded, and he listened with evident delight. But his face darkened
+again when Eric demurely remarked "Don't you think 'my soldier-lad'
+would have fitted the tune just as well!"
+
+"Why, so it would!" Lady Muriel gaily retorted. "Soldiers, sailors,
+tinkers, tailors, what a lot of words would fit in! I think 'my
+tinker-lad' sounds best. Don't you?"
+
+To spare my friend further pain, I rose to go, just as the Earl was
+beginning to repeat his particularly embarrassing question about the
+flowers.
+
+"You have not yet--'
+
+"Yes, I've had some tea, thank you!" I hastily interrupted him. "And
+now we really must be going. Good evening, Lady Muriel!" And we made our
+adieux, and escaped, while the Earl was still absorbed in examining the
+mysterious bouquet.
+
+Lady Muriel accompanied us to the door. "You couldn't have given
+my father a more acceptable present!" she said, warmly. "He is so
+passionately fond of Botany. I'm afraid I know nothing of the theory
+of it, but I keep his Hortus Siccus in order. I must get some sheets of
+blotting-paper, and dry these new treasures for him before they fade.
+
+"That won't be no good at all!" said Bruno, who was waiting for us in
+the garden.
+
+"Why won't it?" said I. "You know I had to give the flowers, to stop
+questions?"
+
+"Yes, it ca'n't be helped," said Sylvie: "but they will be sorry when
+they find them gone!"
+
+"But how will they go?"
+
+"Well, I don't know how. But they will go. The nosegay was only a
+Phlizz, you know. Bruno made it up."
+
+These last words were in a whisper, as she evidently did not wish Arthur
+to hear. But of this there seemed to be little risk: he hardly seemed to
+notice the children, but paced on, silent and abstracted; and when, at
+the entrance to the wood, they bid us a hasty farewell and ran off, he
+seemed to wake out of a day-dream.
+
+The bouquet vanished, as Sylvie had predicted; and when, a day or two
+afterwards, Arthur and I once more visited the Hall, we found the Earl
+and his daughter, with the old housekeeper, out in the garden, examining
+the fastenings of the drawing-room window.
+
+"We are holding an Inquest," Lady Muriel said, advancing to meet us:
+"and we admit you, as Accessories before the Fact, to tell us all you
+know about those flowers."
+
+"The Accessories before the Fact decline to answer any questions," I
+gravely replied. "And they reserve their defence."
+
+"Well then, turn Queen's Evidence, please! The flowers have disappeared
+in the night," she went on, turning to Arthur, "and we are quite sure
+no one in the house has meddled with them. Somebody must have entered by
+the window--"
+
+"But the fastenings have not been tampered with," said the Earl.
+
+"It must have been while you were dining, my Lady," said the
+housekeeper.
+
+"That was it," said the Earl. "The thief must have seen you bring the
+flowers," turning to me, "and have noticed that you did not take
+them away. And he must have known their great value--they are simply
+priceless!" he exclaimed, in sudden excitement.
+
+"And you never told us how you got them!" said Lady Muriel.
+
+"Some day," I stammered, "I may be free to tell you. Just now, would you
+excuse me?"
+
+The Earl looked disappointed, but kindly said "Very well, we will ask no
+questions."
+
+{Image...Five o'clock tea}
+
+"But we consider you a very bad Queen's Evidence," Lady Muriel added
+playfully, as we entered the arbour. "We pronounce you to be an
+accomplice: and we sentence you to solitary confinement, and to be fed
+on bread and butter. Do you take sugar?"
+
+"It is disquieting, certainly," she resumed, when all
+'creature-comforts' had been duly supplied, "to find that the house
+has been entered by a thief in this out-of-the-way place. If only the
+flowers had been eatables, one might have suspected a thief of quite
+another shape--"
+
+"You mean that universal explanation for all mysterious disappearances,
+'the cat did it'?" said Arthur.
+
+"Yes," she replied. "What a convenient thing it would be if all thieves
+had the same shape! It's so confusing to have some of them quadrupeds
+and others bipeds!"
+
+"It has occurred to me," said Arthur, "as a curious problem in
+Teleology--the Science of Final Causes," he added, in answer to an
+enquiring look from Lady Muriel.
+
+"And a Final Cause is--?"
+
+"Well, suppose we say--the last of a series of connected events--each of
+the series being the cause of the next--for whose sake the first event
+takes place."
+
+"But the last event is practically an effect of the first, isn't it? And
+yet you call it a cause of it!"
+
+Arthur pondered a moment. "The words are rather confusing, I grant you,"
+he said. "Will this do? The last event is an effect of the first: but
+the necessity for that event is a cause of the necessity for the first."
+
+"That seems clear enough," said Lady Muriel. "Now let us have the
+problem."
+
+"It's merely this. What object can we imagine in the arrangement by
+which each different size (roughly speaking) of living creatures has
+its special shape? For instance, the human race has one kind of
+shape--bipeds. Another set, ranging from the lion to the mouse, are
+quadrupeds. Go down a step or two further, and you come to insects with
+six legs--hexapods--a beautiful name, is it not? But beauty, in our
+sense of the word, seems to diminish as we go down: the creature becomes
+more--I won't say 'ugly' of any of God's creatures--more uncouth. And,
+when we take the microscope, and go a few steps lower still, we come
+upon animalculae, terribly uncouth, and with a terrible number of legs!"
+
+"The other alternative," said the Earl, "would be a diminuendo series of
+repetitions of the same type. Never mind the monotony of it: let's see
+how it would work in other ways. Begin with the race of men, and the
+creatures they require: let us say horses, cattle, sheep, and dogs--we
+don't exactly require frogs and spiders, do we, Muriel?"
+
+Lady Muriel shuddered perceptibly: it was evidently a painful subject.
+"We can dispense with them," she said gravely.
+
+"Well, then we'll have a second race of men, half-a-yard high--"
+
+"--who would have one source of exquisite enjoyment, not possessed by
+ordinary men!" Arthur interrupted.
+
+"What source?" said the Earl.
+
+"Why, the grandeur of scenery! Surely the grandeur of a mountain, to me,
+depends on its size, relative to me? Double the height of the mountain,
+and of course it's twice as grand. Halve my height, and you produce the
+same effect."
+
+"Happy, happy, happy Small!" Lady Muriel murmured rapturously. "None but
+the Short, none but the Short, none but the Short enjoy the Tall!"
+
+"But let me go on," said the Earl. "We'll have a third race of men, five
+inches high; a fourth race, an inch high--"
+
+"They couldn't eat common beef and mutton, I'm sure!" Lady Muriel
+interrupted.
+
+"True, my child, I was forgetting. Each set must have its own cattle and
+sheep."
+
+"And its own vegetation," I added. "What could a cow, an inch high, do
+with grass that waved far above its head?"
+
+"That is true. We must have a pasture within a pasture, so to speak. The
+common grass would serve our inch-high cows as a green forest of palms,
+while round the root of each tall stem would stretch a tiny carpet of
+microscopic grass. Yes, I think our scheme will work fairly well. And it
+would be very interesting, coming into contact with the races below us.
+What sweet little things the inch-high bull-dogs would be! I doubt if
+even Muriel would run away from one of them!"
+
+"Don't you think we ought to have a crescendo series, as well?" said
+Lady Muriel. "Only fancy being a hundred yards high! One could use an
+elephant as a paper-weight, and a crocodile as a pair of scissors!"
+
+"And would you have races of different sizes communicate with one
+another?" I enquired. "Would they make war on one another, for instance,
+or enter into treaties?"
+
+"War we must exclude, I think. When you could crush a whole nation with
+one blow of your fist, you couldn't conduct war on equal terms. But
+anything, involving a collision of minds only, would be possible in
+our ideal world--for of course we must allow mental powers to all,
+irrespective of size. Perhaps the fairest rule would be that, the
+smaller the race, the greater should be its intellectual development!"
+
+"Do you mean to say," said Lady Muriel, "that these manikins of an inch
+high are to argue with me?"
+
+"Surely, surely!" said the Earl. "An argument doesn't depend for its
+logical force on the size of the creature that utters it!"
+
+She tossed her head indignantly. "I would not argue with any man less
+than six inches high!" she cried. "I'd make him work!"
+
+"What at?" said Arthur, listening to all this nonsense with an amused
+smile.
+
+"Embroidery!" she readily replied. "What lovely embroidery they would
+do!"
+
+"Yet, if they did it wrong," I said, "you couldn't argue the question. I
+don't know why: but I agree that it couldn't be done."
+
+"The reason is," said Lady Muriel, "one couldn't sacrifice one's dignity
+so far."
+
+"Of course one couldn't!" echoed Arthur. "Any more than one could argue
+with a potato. It would be altogether--excuse the ancient pun--infra
+dig.!"
+
+"I doubt it," said I. "Even a pun doesn't quite convince me."
+
+"Well, if that is not the reason," said Lady Muriel, "what reason would
+you give?"
+
+I tried hard to understand the meaning of this question: but the
+persistent humming of the bees confused me, and there was a drowsiness
+in the air that made every thought stop and go to sleep before it had
+got well thought out: so all I could say was "That must depend on the
+weight of the potato."
+
+I felt the remark was not so sensible as I should have liked it to be.
+But Lady Muriel seemed to take it quite as a matter of course. "In that
+case--" she began, but suddenly started, and turned away to listen.
+"Don't you hear him?" she said. "He's crying. We must go to him,
+somehow."
+
+And I said to myself "That's very strange." I quite thought it was
+Lady Muriel talking to me. "Why, it's Sylvie all the while!" And I made
+another great effort to say something that should have some meaning in
+it. "Is it about the potato?"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 21. THROUGH THE IVORY DOOR.
+
+"I don't know," said Sylvie. "Hush! I must think. I could go to him, by
+myself, well enough. But I want you to come too."
+
+"Let me go with you," I pleaded. "I can walk as fast as you can, I'm
+sure."
+
+Sylvie laughed merrily. "What nonsense!" she cried. "Why, you ca'n't
+walk a bit! You're lying quite flat on your back! You don't understand
+these things."
+
+"I can walk as well as you can," I repeated. And I tried my best to walk
+a few steps: but the ground slipped away backwards, quite as fast as I
+could walk, so that I made no progress at all. Sylvie laughed again.
+
+"There, I told you so! You've no idea how funny you look, moving your
+feet about in the air, as if you were walking! Wait a bit. I'll ask the
+Professor what we'd better do." And she knocked at his study-door.
+
+The door opened, and the Professor looked out. "What's that crying I
+heard just now?" he asked. "Is it a human animal?"
+
+"It's a boy," Sylvie said.
+
+"I'm afraid you've been teasing him?"
+
+"No, indeed I haven't!" Sylvie said, very earnestly. "I never tease
+him!"
+
+"Well, I must ask the Other Professor about it." He went back into the
+study, and we heard him whispering "small human animal--says she hasn't
+been teasing him--the kind that's called Boy--"
+
+"Ask her which Boy," said a new voice. The Professor came out again.
+
+"Which Boy is it that you haven't been teasing?"
+
+Sylvie looked at me with twinkling eyes. "You dear old thing!" she
+exclaimed, standing on tiptoe to kiss him, while he gravely stooped to
+receive the salute. "How you do puzzle me! Why, there are several boys I
+haven't been teasing!"
+
+The Professor returned to his friend: and this time the voice said "Tell
+her to bring them here--all of them!"
+
+"I ca'n't, and I won't!" Sylvie exclaimed, the moment he reappeared.
+"It's Bruno that's crying: and he's my brother: and, please, we both
+want to go: he ca'n't walk, you know: he's--he's dreaming, you know"
+(this in a whisper, for fear of hurting my feelings). "Do let's go
+through the Ivory Door!"
+
+"I'll ask him," said the Professor, disappearing again. He returned
+directly. "He says you may. Follow me, and walk on tip-toe."
+
+The difficulty with me would have been, just then, not to walk on
+tip-toe. It seemed very hard to reach down far enough to just touch the
+floor, as Sylvie led me through the study.
+
+The Professor went before us to unlock the Ivory Door. I had just time
+to glance at the Other Professor, who was sitting reading, with his back
+to us, before the Professor showed us out through the door, and locked
+it behind us. Bruno was standing with his hands over his face, crying
+bitterly.
+
+{Image...'What's the matter, darling?'}
+
+"What's the matter, darling?" said Sylvie, with her arms round his neck.
+
+"Hurted mine self welly much!" sobbed the poor little fellow.
+
+"I'm so sorry, darling! How ever did you manage to hurt yourself so?"
+
+"Course I managed it!" said Bruno, laughing through his tears. "Doos oo
+think nobody else but oo ca'n't manage things?"
+
+Matters were looking distinctly brighter, now Bruno had begun to argue.
+"Come, let's hear all about it!" I said.
+
+"My foot took it into its head to slip--" Bruno began.
+
+"A foot hasn't got a head!" Sylvie put in, but all in vain.
+
+"I slipted down the bank. And I tripted over a stone. And the stone
+hurted my foot! And I trod on a Bee. And the Bee stinged my finger!"
+Poor Bruno sobbed again. The complete list of woes was too much for his
+feelings. "And it knewed I didn't mean to trod on it!" he added, as the
+climax.
+
+"That Bee should be ashamed of itself!" I said severely, and Sylvie
+hugged and kissed the wounded hero till all tears were dried.
+
+"My finger's quite unstung now!" said Bruno. "Why doos there be stones?
+Mister Sir, doos oo know?"
+
+"They're good for something," I said: "even if we don't know what.
+What's the good of dandelions, now?"
+
+"Dindledums?" said Bruno. "Oh, they're ever so pretty! And stones aren't
+pretty, one bit. Would oo like some dindledums, Mister Sir?"
+
+"Bruno!" Sylvie murmured reproachfully. "You mustn't say 'Mister' and
+'Sir,' both at once! Remember what I told you!"
+
+"You telled me I were to say Mister' when I spoked about him, and I were
+to say 'Sir' when I spoked to him!"
+
+"Well, you're not doing both, you know."
+
+"Ah, but I is doing bofe, Miss Praticular!" Bruno exclaimed
+triumphantly. "I wishted to speak about the Gemplun--and I wishted to
+speak to the Gemplun. So a course I said 'Mister Sir'!"
+
+"That's all right, Bruno," I said.
+
+"Course it's all right!" said Bruno. "Sylvie just knows nuffin at all!"
+
+"There never was an impertinenter boy!" said Sylvie, frowning till her
+bright eyes were nearly invisible.
+
+"And there never was an ignoranter girl!" retorted Bruno. "Come along
+and pick some dindledums. That's all she's fit for!" he added in a very
+loud whisper to me.
+
+"But why do you say 'Dindledums,' Bruno? Dandelions is the right word."
+
+"It's because he jumps about so," Sylvie said, laughing.
+
+"Yes, that's it," Bruno assented. "Sylvie tells me the words, and then,
+when I jump about, they get shooken up in my head--till they're all
+froth!"
+
+I expressed myself as perfectly satisfied with this explanation. "But
+aren't you going to pick me any dindledums, after all?"
+
+"Course we will!" cried Bruno. "Come along, Sylvie!" And the happy
+children raced away, bounding over the turf with the fleetness and grace
+of young antelopes.
+
+"Then you didn't find your way back to Outland?" I said to the
+Professor.
+
+"Oh yes, I did!" he replied, "We never got to Queer Street; but I found
+another way. I've been backwards and forwards several times since then.
+I had to be present at the Election, you know, as the author of the new
+Money-act. The Emperor was so kind as to wish that I should have the
+credit of it. 'Let come what come may,' (I remember the very words of
+the Imperial Speech) 'if it should turn out that the Warden is alive,
+you will bear witness that the change in the coinage is the Professor's
+doing, not mine!' I never was so glorified in my life, before!" Tears
+trickled down his cheeks at the recollection, which apparently was not
+wholly a pleasant one.
+
+"Is the Warden supposed to be dead?"
+
+"Well, it's supposed so: but, mind you, I don't believe it! The evidence
+is very weak--mere hear-say. A wandering Jester, with a Dancing-Bear
+(they found their way into the Palace, one day) has been telling people
+he comes from Fairyland, and that the Warden died there. I wanted the
+Vice-Warden to question him, but, most unluckily, he and my Lady
+were always out walking when the Jester came round. Yes, the Warden's
+supposed to be dead!" And more tears trickled down the old man's cheeks.
+
+"But what is the new Money-Act?"
+
+The Professor brightened up again. "The Emperor started the thing," he
+said. "He wanted to make everybody in Outland twice as rich as he was
+before just to make the new Government popular. Only there wasn't nearly
+enough money in the Treasury to do it. So I suggested that he might do
+it by doubling the value of every coin and bank-note in Outland. It's
+the simplest thing possible. I wonder nobody ever thought of it before!
+And you never saw such universal joy. The shops are full from morning to
+night. Everybody's buying everything!"
+
+"And how was the glorifying done?"
+
+A sudden gloom overcast the Professor's jolly face. "They did it as I
+went home after the Election," he mournfully replied. "It was kindly
+meant but I didn't like it! They waved flags all round me till I was
+nearly blind: and they rang bells till I was nearly deaf: and they
+strewed the road so thick with flowers that I lost my way!" And the poor
+old man sighed deeply.
+
+"How far is it to Outland?" I asked, to change the subject.
+
+"About five days' march. But one must go back--occasionally. You see, as
+Court-Professor, I have to be always in attendance on Prince Uggug. The
+Empress would be very angry if I left him, even for an hour."
+
+"But surely, every time you come here, you are absent ten days, at
+least?"
+
+"Oh, more than that!" the Professor exclaimed. "A fortnight, sometimes.
+But of course I keep a memorandum of the exact time when I started, so
+that I can put the Court-time back to the very moment!" "Excuse me," I
+said. "I don't understand."
+
+Silently the Professor drew front his pocket a square gold watch, with
+six or eight hands, and held it out for my inspection. "This," he began,
+"is an Outlandish Watch--"
+
+"So I should have thought."
+
+"--which has the peculiar property that, instead of its going with the
+time, the time goes with it. I trust you understand me now?"
+
+"Hardly," I said.
+
+"Permit me to explain. So long as it is let alone, it takes its own
+course. Time has no effect upon it."
+
+"I have known such watches," I remarked.
+
+"It goes, of course, at the usual rate. Only the time has to go with it.
+Hence, if I move the hands, I change the time. To move them forwards, in
+advance of the true time, is impossible: but I can move them as much as
+a month backwards---that is the limit. And then you have the events all
+over again--with any alterations experience may suggest."
+
+"What a blessing such a watch would be," I thought, "in real life! To
+be able to unsay some heedless word--to undo some reckless deed! Might I
+see the thing done?"
+
+"With pleasure!" said the good natured Professor. "When I move this
+hand back to here," pointing out the place, "History goes back fifteen
+minutes!"
+
+Trembling with excitement, I watched him push the hand round as he
+described.
+
+"Hurted mine self welly much!"
+
+Shrilly and suddenly the words rang in my ears, and, more startled than
+I cared to show, I turned to look for the speaker.
+
+Yes! There was Bruno, standing with the tears running down his cheeks,
+just as I had seen him a quarter of an hour ago; and there was Sylvie
+with her arms round his neck!
+
+I had not the heart to make the dear little fellow go through his
+troubles a second time, so hastily begged the Professor to push the
+hands round into their former position. In a moment Sylvie and Bruno
+were gone again, and I could just see them in the far distance, picking
+'dindledums.'
+
+"Wonderful, indeed!" I exclaimed.
+
+"It has another property, yet more wonderful," said the Professor. "You
+see this little peg? That is called the 'Reversal Peg.' If you push it
+in, the events of the next hour happen in the reverse order. Do not
+try it now. I will lend you the Watch for a few days, and you can amuse
+yourself with experiments."
+
+"Thank you very much!" I said as he gave me the Watch. "I'll take the
+greatest care of it--why, here are the children again!"
+
+"We could only but find six dindledums," said Bruno, putting them into
+my hands, "'cause Sylvie said it were time to go back. And here's a big
+blackberry for ooself! We couldn't only find but two!"
+
+"Thank you: it's very nice," I said. "And I suppose you ate the other,
+Bruno?"
+
+"No, I didn't," Bruno said, carelessly. "Aren't they pretty dindledums,
+Mister Sir?"
+
+"Yes, very: but what makes you limp so, my child?"
+
+"Mine foot's come hurted again!" Bruno mournfully replied. And he sat
+down on the ground, and began nursing it.
+
+The Professor held his head between his hands--an attitude that I knew
+indicated distraction of mind. "Better rest a minute," he said. "It may
+be better then--or it may be worse. If only I had some of my medicines
+here! I'm Court-Physician, you know," he added, aside to me.
+
+"Shall I go and get you some blackberries, darling?" Sylvie whispered,
+with her arms round his neck; and she kissed away a tear that was
+trickling down his cheek.
+
+Bruno brightened up in a moment. "That are a good plan!" he
+exclaimed. "I thinks my foot would come quite unhurted, if I eated a
+blackberry--two or three blackberries--six or seven blackberries--"
+
+Sylvie got up hastily. "I'd better go," she said, aside to me, "before
+he gets into the double figures!"
+
+"Let me come and help you," I said. "I can reach higher up than you
+can."
+
+"Yes, please," said Sylvie, putting her hand into mine: and we walked
+off together.
+
+"Bruno loves blackberries," she said, as we paced slowly along by a tall
+hedge, "that looked a promising place for them, and it was so sweet of
+him to make me eat the only one!"
+
+"Oh, it was you that ate it, then? Bruno didn't seem to like to tell me
+about it."
+
+"No; I saw that," said Sylvie. "He's always afraid of being praised. But
+he made me eat it, really! I would much rather he--oh, what's that?" And
+she clung to my hand, half-frightened, as we came in sight of a hare,
+lying on its side with legs stretched out just in the entrance to the
+wood.
+
+"It's a hare, my child. Perhaps it's asleep."
+
+"No, it isn't asleep," Sylvie said, timidly going nearer to look at it:
+"it's eyes are open. Is it--is it--her voice dropped to an awestruck
+whisper, is it dead, do you think?"
+
+"Yes, it's quite dead," I said, after stooping to examine it. "Poor
+thing! I think it's been hunted to death. I know the harriers were out
+yesterday. But they haven't touched it. Perhaps they caught sight of
+another, and left it to die of fright and exhaustion."
+
+"Hunted to death?" Sylvie repeated to herself, very slowly and sadly. "I
+thought hunting was a thing they played at like a game. Bruno and I hunt
+snails: but we never hurt them when we catch them!"
+
+"Sweet angel!" I thought. "How am I to get the idea of Sport into your
+innocent mind?" And as we stood, hand-in-hand, looking down at the dead
+hare, I tried to put the thing into such words as she could understand.
+"You know what fierce wild-beasts lions and tigers are?" Sylvie nodded.
+"Well, in some countries men have to kill them, to save their own lives,
+you know."
+
+"Yes," said Sylvie: "if one tried to kill me, Bruno would kill it if he
+could."
+
+"Well, and so the men--the hunters--get to enjoy it, you know: the
+running, and the fighting, and the shouting, and the danger."
+
+"Yes," said Sylvie. "Bruno likes danger."
+
+"Well, but, in this country, there aren't any lions and tigers, loose:
+so they hunt other creatures, you see." I hoped, but in vain, that this
+would satisfy her, and that she would ask no more questions.
+
+"They hunt foxes," Sylvie said, thoughtfully. "And I think they kill
+them, too. Foxes are very fierce. I daresay men don't love them. Are
+hares fierce?"
+
+"No," I said. "A hare is a sweet, gentle, timid animal--almost as gentle
+as a lamb."
+
+"But, if men love hares, why--why--" her voice quivered, and her sweet
+eyes were brimming over with tears.
+
+"I'm afraid they don't love them, dear child."
+
+"All children love them," Sylvie said. "All ladies love them."
+
+"I'm afraid even ladies go to hunt them, sometimes."
+
+Sylvie shuddered. "Oh, no, not ladies!" she earnestly pleaded. "Not Lady
+Muriel!"
+
+"No, she never does, I'm sure--but this is too sad a sight for you,
+dear. Let's try and find some--"
+
+But Sylvie was not satisfied yet. In a hushed, solemn tone, with bowed
+head and clasped hands, she put her final question. "Does GOD love
+hares?"
+
+"Yes!" I said. "I'm sure He does! He loves every living thing. Even
+sinful men. How much more the animals, that cannot sin!"
+
+"I don't know what 'sin' means," said Sylvie. And I didn't try to
+explain it.
+
+"Come, my child," I said, trying to lead her away. "Wish good-bye to the
+poor hare, and come and look for blackberries."
+
+"Good-bye, poor hare!" Sylvie obediently repeated, looking over her
+shoulder at it as we turned away. And then, all in a moment, her
+self-command gave way. Pulling her hand out of mine, she ran back to
+where the dead hare was lying, and flung herself down at its side in
+such an agony of grief as I could hardly have believed possible in so
+young a child.
+
+"Oh, my darling, my darling!" she moaned, over and over again. "And God
+meant your life to be so beautiful!"
+
+Sometimes, but always keeping her face hidden on the ground, she would
+reach out one little hand, to stroke the poor dead thing, and then once
+more bury her face in her hands, and sob as if her heart would break.
+{Image...The dead hare}
+
+I was afraid she would really make herself ill: still I thought it best
+to let her weep away the first sharp agony of grief: and, after a few
+minutes, the sobbing gradually ceased, and Sylvie rose to her feet, and
+looked calmly at me, though tears were still streaming down her cheeks.
+
+I did not dare to speak again, just yet; but simply held out my hand to
+her, that we might quit the melancholy spot.
+
+Yes, I'll come now, she said. Very reverently she kneeled down, and
+kissed the dead hare; then rose and gave me her hand, and we moved on in
+silence.
+
+A child's sorrow is violent but short; and it was almost in her usual
+voice that she said after a minute "Oh stop stop! Here are some lovely
+blackberries!"
+
+We filled our hands with fruit and returned in all haste to where the
+Professor and Bruno were seated on a bank awaiting our return.
+
+Just before we came within hearing-distance Sylvie checked me. "Please
+don't tell Bruno about the hare!" she said.
+
+Very well, my child. But why not?
+
+Tears again glittered in those sweet eyes and she turned her head away
+so that I could scarcely hear her reply. "He's--he's very fond of gentle
+creatures you know. And he'd--he'd be so sorry! I don't want him to be
+made sorry."
+
+And your agony of sorrow is to count for nothing, then, sweet unselfish
+child! I thought to myself. But no more was said till we had reached
+our friends; and Bruno was far too much engrossed, in the feast we had
+brought him, to take any notice of Sylvie's unusually grave manner.
+
+"I'm afraid it's getting rather late, Professor?" I said.
+
+"Yes, indeed," said the Professor. "I must take you all through the
+Ivory Door again. You've stayed your full time."
+
+"Mightn't we stay a little longer!" pleaded Sylvie.
+
+"Just one minute!" added Bruno.
+
+But the Professor was unyielding. "It's a great privilege, coming
+through at all," he said. "We must go now." And we followed him
+obediently to the Ivory Door, which he threw open, and signed to me to
+go through first.
+
+"You're coming too, aren't you?" I said to Sylvie.
+
+"Yes," she said: "but you won't see us after you've gone through."
+
+"But suppose I wait for you outside?" I asked, as I stepped through the
+doorway.
+
+"In that case," said Sylvie, "I think the potato would be quite
+justified in asking your weight. I can quite imagine a really superior
+kidney-potato declining to argue with any one under fifteen stone!"
+
+With a great effort I recovered the thread of my thoughts. "We lapse
+very quickly into nonsense!" I said.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 22. CROSSING THE LINE.
+
+"Let us lapse back again," said Lady Muriel. "Take another cup of tea? I
+hope that's sound common sense?"
+
+"And all that strange adventure," I thought, "has occupied the space
+of a single comma in Lady Muriel's speech! A single comma, for which
+grammarians tell us to 'count one'!" (I felt no doubt that the Professor
+had kindly put back the time for me, to the exact point at which I had
+gone to sleep.)
+
+When, a few minutes afterwards, we left the house, Arthur's first remark
+was certainly a strange one. "We've been there just twenty minutes," he
+said, "and I've done nothing but listen to you and Lady Muriel talking:
+and yet, somehow, I feel exactly as if I had been talking with her for
+an hour at least!"
+
+And so he had been, I felt no doubt: only, as the time had been put back
+to the beginning of the tete-a-tete he referred to, the whole of it
+had passed into oblivion, if not into nothingness! But I valued my own
+reputation for sanity too highly to venture on explaining to him what
+had happened.
+
+For some cause, which I could not at the moment divine, Arthur was
+unusually grave and silent during our walk home. It could not be
+connected with Eric Lindon, I thought, as he had for some days been away
+in London: so that, having Lady Muriel almost 'all to himself'--for
+I was only too glad to hear those two conversing, to have any wish to
+intrude any remarks of my own--he ought, theoretically, to have been
+specially radiant and contented with life. "Can he have heard any bad
+news?" I said to myself. And, almost as if he had read my thoughts, he
+spoke.
+
+"He will be here by the last train," he said, in the tone of one who is
+continuing a conversation rather than beginning one.
+
+"Captain Lindon, do you mean?"
+
+"Yes--Captain Lindon," said Arthur: "I said 'he,' because I fancied
+we were talking about him. The Earl told me he comes tonight, though
+to-morrow is the day when he will know about the Commission that he's
+hoping for. I wonder he doesn't stay another day to hear the result, if
+he's really so anxious about it as the Earl believes he is."
+
+"He can have a telegram sent after him," I said: "but it's not very
+soldier-like, running away from possible bad news!"
+
+"He's a very good fellow," said Arthur: "but I confess it would be good
+news for me, if he got his Commission, and his Marching Orders, all at
+once! I wish him all happiness--with one exception. Good night!" (We had
+reached home by this time.) "I'm not good company to-night--better be
+alone."
+
+It was much the same, next day. Arthur declared he wasn't fit for
+Society, and I had to set forth alone for an afternoon-stroll. I took
+the road to the Station, and, at the point where the road from the
+'Hall' joined it, I paused, seeing my friends in the distance, seemingly
+bound for the same goal.
+
+"Will you join us?" the Earl said, after I had exchanged greetings with
+him, and Lady Muriel, and Captain Lindon. "This restless young man is
+expecting a telegram, and we are going to the Station to meet it."
+
+"There is also a restless young woman in the case," Lady Muriel added.
+
+"That goes without saying, my child," said her father. "Women are always
+restless!"
+
+"For generous appreciation of all one's best qualities," his daughter
+impressively remarked, "there's nothing to compare with a father, is
+there, Eric?"
+
+"Cousins are not 'in it,'" said Eric: and then somehow the conversation
+lapsed into two duologues, the younger folk taking the lead, and the two
+old men following with less eager steps.
+
+"And when are we to see your little friends again?" said the Earl. "They
+are singularly attractive children."
+
+"I shall be delighted to bring them, when I can," I said! "But I don't
+know, myself, when I am likely to see them again."
+
+"I'm not going to question you," said the Earl: "but there's no harm in
+mentioning that Muriel is simply tormented with curiosity! We know most
+of the people about here, and she has been vainly trying to guess what
+house they can possibly be staying at."
+
+"Some day I may be able to enlighten her: but just at present--"
+
+"Thanks. She must bear it as best she can. I tell her it's a grand
+opportunity for practising patience. But she hardly sees it from that
+point of view. Why, there are the children!"
+
+So indeed they were: waiting (for us, apparently) at a stile, which they
+could not have climbed over more than a few moments, as Lady Muriel and
+her cousin had passed it without seeing them. On catching sight of us,
+Bruno ran to meet us, and to exhibit to us, with much pride, the handle
+of a clasp-knife--the blade having been broken off--which he had picked
+up in the road.
+
+"And what shall you use it for, Bruno?" I said.
+
+"Don't know," Bruno carelessly replied: "must think."
+
+"A child's first view of life," the Earl remarked, with that sweet
+sad smile of his, "is that it is a period to be spent in accumulating
+portable property. That view gets modified as the years glide away." And
+he held out his hand to Sylvie, who had placed herself by me, looking a
+little shy of him.
+
+But the gentle old man was not one with whom any child, human or fairy,
+could be shy for long; and she had very soon deserted my hand for
+his--Bruno alone remaining faithful to his first friend. We overtook the
+other couple just as they reached the Station, and both Lady Muriel and
+Eric greeted the children as old friends--the latter with the words "So
+you got to Babylon by candlelight, after all?"
+
+"Yes, and back again!" cried Bruno.
+
+Lady Muriel looked from one to the other in blank astonishment. "What,
+you know them, Eric?" she exclaimed. "This mystery grows deeper every
+day!"
+
+"Then we must be somewhere in the Third Act," said Eric. "You don't
+expect the mystery to be cleared up till the Fifth Act, do you?"
+
+"But it's such a long drama!" was the plaintive reply. "We must have got
+to the Fifth Act by this time!"
+
+"Third Act, I assure you," said the young soldier mercilessly. "Scene, a
+railway-platform. Lights down. Enter Prince (in disguise, of course)
+and faithful Attendant. This is the Prince--" (taking Bruno's hand)
+"and here stands his humble Servant! What is your Royal Highness next
+command?" And he made a most courtier-like low bow to his puzzled little
+friend.
+
+"Oo're not a Servant!" Bruno scornfully exclaimed. "Oo're a Gemplun!"
+
+"Servant, I assure your Royal Highness!" Eric respectfully insisted.
+"Allow me to mention to your Royal Highness my various situations--past,
+present, and future."
+
+"What did oo begin wiz?" Bruno asked, beginning to enter into the jest.
+"Was oo a shoe-black?"
+
+"Lower than that, your Royal Highness! Years ago, I offered myself as
+a Slave--as a 'Confidential Slave,' I think it's called?" he asked,
+turning to Lady Muriel.
+
+But Lady Muriel heard him not: something had gone wrong with her glove,
+which entirely engrossed her attention.
+
+"Did oo get the place?" said Bruno.
+
+"Sad to say, Your Royal Highness, I did not! So I had to take a
+situation as--as Waiter, which I have now held for some years haven't
+I?" He again glanced at Lady Muriel.
+
+"Sylvie dear, do help me to button this glove!" Lady Muriel whispered,
+hastily stooping down, and failing to hear the question.
+
+"And what will oo be next?" said Bruno.
+
+"My next place will, I hope, be that of Groom. And after that--"
+
+"Don't puzzle the child so!" Lady Muriel interrupted. "What nonsense you
+talk!"
+
+"--after that," Eric persisted, "I hope to obtain the situation of
+Housekeeper, which--Fourth Act!" he proclaimed, with a sudden change of
+tone. "Lights turned up. Red lights. Green lights. Distant rumble heard.
+Enter a passenger-train!"
+
+And in another minute the train drew up alongside of the platform, and
+a stream of passengers began to flow out from the booking office and
+waiting-rooms.
+
+"Did you ever make real life into a drama?" said the Earl. "Now just
+try. I've often amused myself that way. Consider this platform as
+our stage. Good entrances and exits on both sides, you see. Capital
+background scene: real engine moving up and down. All this bustle, and
+people passing to and fro, must have been most carefully rehearsed! How
+naturally they do it! With never a glance at the audience! And every
+grouping is quite fresh, you see. No repetition!"
+
+It really was admirable, as soon as I began to enter into it from this
+point of view. Even a porter passing, with a barrow piled with luggage,
+seemed so realistic that one was tempted to applaud. He was followed
+by an angry mother, with hot red face, dragging along two screaming
+children, and calling, to some one behind, "John! Come on!" Enter John,
+very meek, very silent, and loaded with parcels. And he was followed,
+in his turn, by a frightened little nursemaid, carrying a fat baby, also
+screaming. All the children screamed.
+
+"Capital byplay!" said the old man aside. "Did you notice the
+nursemaid's look of terror? It was simply perfect!"
+
+"You have struck quite a new vein," I said. "To most of us Life and its
+pleasures seem like a mine that is nearly worked out."
+
+"Worked out!" exclaimed the Earl. "For any one with true dramatic
+instincts, it is only the Overture that is ended! The real treat has yet
+to begin. You go to a theatre, and pay your ten shillings for a stall,
+and what do you get for your money? Perhaps it's a dialogue between a
+couple of farmers--unnatural in their overdone caricature of farmers'
+dress--more unnatural in their constrained attitudes and gestures--most
+unnatural in their attempts at ease and geniality in their talk. Go
+instead and take a seat in a third-class railway-carriage, and you'll
+get the same dialogue done to the life! Front-seats--no orchestra to
+block the view--and nothing to pay!"
+
+"Which reminds me," said Eric. "There is nothing to pay on receiving a
+telegram! Shall we enquire for one?" And he and Lady Muriel strolled off
+in the direction of the Telegraph-Office.
+
+"I wonder if Shakespeare had that thought in his mind," I said, "when he
+wrote 'All the world's a stage'?"
+
+The old man sighed. "And so it is," he said, "look at it as you will.
+Life is indeed a drama; a drama with but few encores--and no bouquets!"
+he added dreamily. "We spend one half of it in regretting the things we
+did in the other half!"
+
+"And the secret of enjoying it," he continued, resuming his cheerful
+tone, "is intensity!"
+
+"But not in the modern aesthetic sense, I presume? Like the young lady,
+in Punch, who begins a conversation with 'Are you intense?'"
+
+"By no means!" replied the Earl. "What I mean is intensity of thought--a
+concentrated attention. We lose half the pleasure we might have in Life,
+by not really attending. Take any instance you like: it doesn't matter
+how trivial the pleasure may be--the principle is the same. Suppose
+A and B are reading the same second-rate circulating-library novel. A
+never troubles himself to master the relationships of the characters, on
+which perhaps all the interest of the story depends: he 'skips' over all
+the descriptions of scenery, and every passage that looks rather dull:
+he doesn't half attend to the passages he does read: he goes on reading
+merely from want of resolution to find another occupation--for hours
+after he ought to have put the book aside: and reaches the 'FINIS' in a
+state of utter weariness and depression! B puts his whole soul into the
+thing--on the principle that 'whatever is worth doing is worth doing
+well': he masters the genealogies: he calls up pictures before his
+'mind's eye' as he reads about the scenery: best of all, he resolutely
+shuts the book at the end of some chapter, while his interest is yet at
+its keenest, and turns to other subjects; so that, when next he allows
+himself an hour at it, it is like a hungry man sitting down to dinner:
+and, when the book is finished, he returns to the work of his daily life
+like 'a giant refreshed'!"
+
+"But suppose the book were really rubbish--nothing to repay attention?"
+
+"Well, suppose it," said the Earl. "My theory meets that case, I assure
+you! A never finds out that it is rubbish, but maunders on to the end,
+trying to believe he's enjoying himself. B quietly shuts the book, when
+he's read a dozen pages, walks off to the Library, and changes it for
+a better! I have yet another theory for adding to the enjoyment of
+Life--that is, if I have not exhausted your patience? I'm afraid you
+find me a very garrulous old man."
+
+"No indeed!" I exclaimed earnestly. And indeed I felt as if one could
+not easily tire of the sweet sadness of that gentle voice.
+
+"It is, that we should learn to take our pleasures quickly, and our
+pains slowly."
+
+"But why? I should have put it the other way, myself."
+
+"By taking artificial pain--which can be as trivial as you
+please--slowly, the result is that, when real pain comes, however
+severe, all you need do is to let it go at its ordinary pace, and it's
+over in a moment!"
+
+"Very true," I said, "but how about the pleasure?"
+
+"Why, by taking it quick, you can get so much more into life. It takes
+you three hours and a half to hear and enjoy an opera. Suppose I can
+take it in, and enjoy it, in half-an-hour. Why, I can enjoy seven
+operas, while you are listening; to one!"
+
+"Always supposing you have an orchestra capable of playing them," I
+said. "And that orchestra has yet to be found!"
+
+The old man smiled. "I have heard an 'air played," he said, "and by no
+means a short one--played right through, variations and all, in three
+seconds!"
+
+"When? And how?" I asked eagerly, with a half-notion that I was dreaming
+again.
+
+"It was done by a little musical-box," he quietly replied. "After it had
+been wound up, the regulator, or something, broke, and it ran down, as I
+said, in about three seconds. But it must have played all the notes, you
+know!"
+
+"Did you enjoy it? I asked, with all the severity of a cross-examining
+barrister.
+
+"No, I didn't!" he candidly confessed. "But then, you know, I hadn't
+been trained to that kind of music!"
+
+"I should much like to try your plan," I said, and, as Sylvie and Bruno
+happened to run up to us at the moment, I left them to keep the Earl
+company, and strolled along the platform, making each person and event
+play its part in an extempore drama for my especial benefit. "What, is
+the Earl tired of you already?" I said, as the children ran past me.
+
+"No!" Sylvie replied with great emphasis. "He wants the evening-paper.
+So Bruno's going to be a little news-boy!"
+
+"Mind you charge a good price for it!" I called after them.
+
+Returning up the platform, I came upon Sylvie alone. "Well, child,"
+I said, "where's your little news-boy? Couldn't he get you an
+evening-paper?"
+
+"He went to get one at the book-stall at the other side," said Sylvie;
+"and he's coming across the line with it--oh, Bruno, you ought to cross
+by the bridge!" for the distant thud, thud, of the Express was already
+audible.
+
+Suddenly a look of horror came over her face. "Oh, he's fallen down on
+the rails!" she cried, and darted past me at a speed that quite defied
+the hasty effort I made to stop her.
+
+But the wheezy old Station-Master happened to be close behind me: he
+wasn't good for much, poor old man, but he was good for this; and,
+before I could turn round, he had the child clasped in his arms, saved
+from the certain death she was rushing to. So intent was I in watching
+this scene, that I hardly saw a flying figure in a light grey suit,
+who shot across from the back of the platform, and was on the line in
+another second. So far as one could take note of time in such a moment
+of horror, he had about ten clear seconds, before the Express would be
+upon him, in which to cross the rails and to pick up Bruno. Whether he
+did so or not it was quite impossible to guess: the next thing one knew
+was that the Express had passed, and that, whether for life or death,
+all was over. When the cloud of dust had cleared away, and the line was
+once more visible, we saw with thankful hearts that the child and his
+deliverer were safe.
+
+"All right!" Eric called to us cheerfully, as he recrossed the line.
+"He's more frightened than hurt!"
+
+{Image...Crossing the line}
+
+He lifted the little fellow up into Lady Muriel's arms, and mounted
+the platform as gaily as if nothing had happened: but he was as pale as
+death, and leaned heavily on the arm I hastily offered him, fearing he
+was about to faint. "I'll just--sit down a moment--" he said dreamily:
+"--where's Sylvie?"
+
+Sylvie ran to him, and flung her arms round his neck, sobbing as if her
+heart would break. "Don't do that, my darling!" Eric murmured, with a
+strange look in his eyes. "Nothing to cry about now, you know. But you
+very nearly got yourself killed for nothing!"
+
+"For Bruno!" the little maiden sobbed. "And he would have done it for
+me. Wouldn't you, Bruno?"
+
+"Course I would!" Bruno said, looking round with a bewildered air.
+
+Lady Muriel kissed him in silence as she put him down out of her arms.
+Then she beckoned Sylvie to come and take his hand, and signed to
+the children to go back to where the Earl was seated. "Tell him," she
+whispered with quivering lips, "tell him--all is well!" Then she turned
+to the hero of the day. "I thought it was death," she said. "Thank God,
+you are safe! Did you see how near it was?"
+
+"I saw there was just time," Eric said lightly.
+
+"A soldier must learn to carry his life in his hand, you know. I'm all
+right now. Shall we go to the telegraph-office again? I daresay it's
+come by this time."
+
+I went to join the Earl and the children, and we waited--almost in
+silence, for no one seemed inclined to talk, and Bruno was half-asleep
+on Sylvie's lap--till the others joined us. No telegram had come.
+
+"I'll take a stroll with the children," I said, feeling that we were a
+little de trop, "and I'll look in, in the course of the evening."
+
+"We must go back into the wood, now," Sylvie said, as soon as we were
+out of hearing. "We ca'n't stay this size any longer."
+
+"Then you will be quite tiny Fairies again, next time we meet?"
+
+"Yes," said Sylvie: "but we'll be children again some day--if you'll let
+us. Bruno's very anxious to see Lady Muriel again."
+
+"She are welly nice," said Bruno.
+
+"I shall be very glad to take you to see her again," I said. "Hadn't I
+better give you back the Professor's Watch? It'll be too large for you
+to carry when you're Fairies, you know."
+
+Bruno laughed merrily. I was glad to see he had quite recovered from the
+terrible scene he had gone through. "Oh no, it won't!" he said. "When we
+go small, it'll go small!"
+
+"And then it'll go straight to the Professor," Sylvie added, "and you
+won't be able to use it anymore: so you'd better use it all you can,
+now. We must go small when the sun sets. Good-bye!"
+
+"Good-bye!" cried Bruno. But their voices sounded very far away, and,
+when I looked round, both children had disappeared.
+
+"And it wants only two hours to sunset!" I said as I strolled on. "I
+must make the best of my time!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 23. AN OUTLANDISH WATCH.
+
+As I entered the little town, I came upon two of the fishermen's wives
+interchanging that last word "which never was the last": and it occurred
+to me, as an experiment with the Magic Watch, to wait till the little
+scene was over, and then to 'encore' it.
+
+"Well, good night t'ye! And ye winna forget to send us word when your
+Martha writes?"
+
+"Nay, ah winna forget. An' if she isn't suited, she can but coom back.
+Good night t'ye!"
+
+A casual observer might have thought "and there ends the dialogue!" That
+casual observer would have been mistaken.
+
+"Ah, she'll like 'em, I war'n' ye! They'll not treat her bad, yer may
+depend. They're varry canny fowk. Good night!"
+
+"Ay, they are that! Good night!"
+
+"Good night! And ye'll send us word if she writes?"
+
+"Aye, ah will, yer may depend! Good night t'ye!"
+
+And at last they parted. I waited till they were some twenty yards
+apart, and then put the Watch a minute back. The instantaneous change
+was startling: the two figures seemed to flash back into their former
+places.
+
+"--isn't suited, she can but coom back. Good night t'ye!" one of them
+was saying: and so the whole dialogue was repeated, and, when they
+had parted for the second time, I let them go their several ways, and
+strolled on through the town.
+
+"But the real usefulness of this magic power," I thought, "would be to
+undo some harm, some painful event, some accident--"
+
+I had not long to wait for an opportunity of testing this property also
+of the Magic Watch, for, even as the thought passed through my mind, the
+accident I was imagining occurred. A light cart was standing at the
+door of the 'Great Millinery Depot' of Elveston, laden with card-board
+packing-cases, which the driver was carrying into the shop, one by one.
+One of the cases had fallen into the street, but it scarcely seemed
+worth while to step forward and pick it up, as the man would be back
+again in a moment. Yet, in that moment, a young man riding a bicycle
+came sharp round the corner of the street and, in trying to avoid
+running over the box, upset his machine, and was thrown headlong against
+the wheel of the spring-cart. The driver ran out to his assistance, and
+he and I together raised the unfortunate cyclist and carried him into
+the shop. His head was cut and bleeding; and one knee seemed to be badly
+injured; and it was speedily settled that he had better be conveyed at
+once to the only Surgery in the place. I helped them in emptying the
+cart, and placing in it some pillows for the wounded man to rest on; and
+it was only when the driver had mounted to his place, and was starting
+for the Surgery, that I bethought me of the strange power I possessed of
+undoing all this harm.
+
+"Now is my time!" I said to myself, as I moved back the hand of the
+Watch, and saw, almost without surprise this time, all things restored
+to the places they had occupied at the critical moment when I had first
+noticed the fallen packing-case.
+
+Instantly I stepped out into the street, picked up the box, and replaced
+it in the cart: in the next moment the bicycle had spun round the
+corner, passed the cart without let or hindrance, and soon vanished in
+the distance, in a cloud of dust.
+
+"Delightful power of magic!" I thought. "How much of human suffering I
+have--not only relieved, but actually annihilated!" And, in a glow of
+conscious virtue, I stood watching the unloading of the cart, still
+holding the Magic Watch open in my hand, as I was curious to see what
+would happen when we again reached the exact time at which I had put
+back the hand.
+
+The result was one that, if only I had considered the thing carefully,
+I might have foreseen: as the hand of the Watch touched the mark, the
+spring-cart--which had driven off, and was by this time half-way down
+the street, was back again at the door, and in the act of starting,
+while--oh woe for the golden dream of world-wide benevolence that had
+dazzled my dreaming fancy!--the wounded youth was once more reclining
+on the heap of pillows, his pale face set rigidly in the hard lines that
+told of pain resolutely endured.
+
+"Oh mocking Magic Watch!" I said to myself, as I passed out of the
+little town, and took the seaward road that led to my lodgings. "The
+good I fancied I could do is vanished like a dream: the evil of this
+troublesome world is the only abiding reality!"
+
+And now I must record an experience so strange, that I think it only
+fair, before beginning to relate it, to release my much-enduring reader
+from any obligation he may feel to believe this part of my story. I
+would not have believed it, I freely confess, if I had not seen it
+with my own eyes: then why should I expect it of my reader, who, quite
+possibly, has never seen anything of the sort?
+
+I was passing a pretty little villa, which stood rather back from the
+road, in its own grounds, with bright flower-beds in front---creepers
+wandering over the walls and hanging in festoons about the
+bow-windows--an easy-chair forgotten on the lawn, with a newspaper lying
+near it--a small pug-dog "couchant" before it, resolved to guard the
+treasure even at the sacrifice of life--and a front-door standing
+invitingly half-open. "Here is my chance," I thought, "for testing the
+reverse action of the Magic Watch!" I pressed the 'reversal-peg' and
+walked in. In another house, the entrance of a stranger might cause
+surprise--perhaps anger, even going so far as to expel the said stranger
+with violence: but here, I knew, nothing of the sort could happen.
+The ordinary course of events first, to think nothing about me; then,
+hearing my footsteps to look up and see me; and then to wonder what
+business I had there--would be reversed by the action of my Watch. They
+would first wonder who I was, then see me, then look down, and think no
+more about me. And as to being expelled with violence, that event would
+necessarily come first in this case. "So, if I can once get in," I said
+to myself, "all risk of expulsion will be over!"
+
+{Image...'The pug-dog sat up'}
+
+The pug-dog sat up, as a precautionary measure, as I passed; but, as I
+took no notice of the treasure he was guarding, he let me go by without
+even one remonstrant bark. "He that takes my life," he seemed to be
+saying, wheezily, to himself, "takes trash: But he that takes the Daily
+Telegraph--!" But this awful contingency I did not face.
+
+The party in the drawing-room--I had walked straight in, you understand,
+without ringing the bell, or giving any notice of my approach--consisted
+of four laughing rosy children, of ages from about fourteen down to ten,
+who were, apparently, all coming towards the door (I found they were
+really walking backwards), while their mother, seated by the fire with
+some needlework on her lap, was saying, just as I entered the room,
+"Now, girls, you may get your things on for a walk."
+
+To my utter astonishment--for I was not yet accustomed to the action
+of the Watch "all smiles ceased," (as Browning says) on the four pretty
+faces, and they all got out pieces of needle-work, and sat down. No one
+noticed me in the least, as I quietly took a chair and sat down to watch
+them.
+
+When the needle-work had been unfolded, and they were all ready to
+begin, their mother said "Come, that's done, at last! You may fold
+up your work, girls." But the children took no notice whatever of the
+remark; on the contrary, they set to work at once sewing--if that is
+the proper word to describe an operation such as I had never before
+witnessed. Each of them threaded her needle with a short end of thread
+attached to the work, which was instantly pulled by an invisible force
+through the stuff, dragging the needle after it: the nimble fingers of
+the little sempstress caught it at the other side, but only to lose it
+again the next moment. And so the work went on, steadily undoing itself,
+and the neatly-stitched little dresses, or whatever they were, steadily
+falling to pieces. Now and then one of the children would pause, as the
+recovered thread became inconveniently long, wind it on a bobbin, and
+start again with another short end.
+
+At last all the work was picked to pieces and put away, and the lady
+led the way into the next room, walking backwards, and making the insane
+remark "Not yet, dear: we must get the sewing done first." After which,
+I was not surprised to see the children skipping backwards after her,
+exclaiming "Oh, mother, it is such a lovely day for a walk!"
+
+In the dining-room, the table had only dirty plates and empty dishes
+on it. However the party--with the addition of a gentleman, as
+good-natured, and as rosy, as the children--seated themselves at it very
+contentedly.
+
+You have seen people eating cherry-tart, and every now and then
+cautiously conveying a cherry-stone from their lips to their plates?
+Well, something like that went on all through this ghastly--or shall we
+say 'ghostly'?---banquet. An empty fork is raised to the lips: there
+it receives a neatly-cut piece of mutton, and swiftly conveys it to the
+plate, where it instantly attaches itself to the mutton already there.
+Soon one of the plates, furnished with a complete slice of mutton and
+two potatoes, was handed up to the presiding gentleman, who quietly
+replaced the slice on the joint, and the potatoes in the dish.
+
+Their conversation was, if possible, more bewildering than their mode of
+dining. It began by the youngest girl suddenly, and without provocation,
+addressing her eldest sister. "Oh, you wicked story-teller!" she said.
+
+I expected a sharp reply from the sister; but, instead of this, she
+turned laughingly to her father, and said, in a very loud stage-whisper,
+"To be a bride!"
+
+The father, in order to do his part in a conversation that seemed only
+fit for lunatics, replied "Whisper it to me, dear."
+
+But she didn't whisper (these children never did anything they were
+told): she said, quite loud, "Of course not! Everybody knows what Dotty
+wants!"
+
+And little Dolly shrugged her shoulders, and said, with a pretty
+pettishness, "Now, Father, you're not to tease! You know I don't want to
+be bride's-maid to anybody!"
+
+"And Dolly's to be the fourth," was her father's idiotic reply.
+
+Here Number Three put in her oar. "Oh, it is settled, Mother dear,
+really and truly! Mary told us all about it. It's to be next
+Tuesday four weeks--and three of her cousins are coming; to be
+bride's-maids--and--"
+
+"She doesn't forget it, Minnie!" the Mother laughingly replied. "I do
+wish they'd get it settled! I don't like long engagements."
+
+And Minnie wound up the conversation--if so chaotic a series of remarks
+deserves the name--with "Only think! We passed the Cedars this morning,
+just exactly as Mary Davenant was standing at the gate, wishing good-bye
+to Mister---I forget his name. Of course we looked the other way."
+
+By this time I was so hopelessly confused that I gave up listening, and
+followed the dinner down into the kitchen.
+
+But to you, O hypercritical reader, resolute to believe no item of this
+weird adventure, what need to tell how the mutton was placed on the
+spit, and slowly unroasted--how the potatoes were wrapped in their
+skins, and handed over to the gardener to be buried--how, when the
+mutton had at length attained to rawness, the fire, which had gradually
+changed from red-heat to a mere blaze, died down so suddenly that
+the cook had only just time to catch its last flicker on the end of a
+match--or how the maid, having taken the mutton off the spit, carried
+it (backwards, of course) out of the house, to meet the butcher, who was
+coming (also backwards) down the road?
+
+The longer I thought over this strange adventure, the more hopelessly
+tangled the mystery became: and it was a real relief to meet Arthur in
+the road, and get him to go with me up to the Hall, to learn what news
+the telegraph had brought. I told him, as we went, what had happened at
+the Station, but as to my further adventures I thought it best, for the
+present, to say nothing.
+
+The Earl was sitting alone when we entered. "I am glad you are come in
+to keep me company," he said. "Muriel is gone to bed--the excitement of
+that terrible scene was too much for her--and Eric has gone to the hotel
+to pack his things, to start for London by the early train."
+
+"Then the telegram has come?" I said.
+
+"Did you not hear? Oh, I had forgotten: it came in after you left the
+Station. Yes, it's all right: Eric has got his commission; and, now that
+he has arranged matters with Muriel, he has business in town that must
+be seen to at once."
+
+"What arrangement do you mean?" I asked with a sinking heart, as the
+thought of Arthur's crushed hopes came to my mind. "Do you mean that
+they are engaged?"
+
+"They have been engaged--in a sense--for two years," the old man gently
+replied: "that is, he has had my promise to consent to it, so soon as
+he could secure a permanent and settled line in life. I could never
+be happy with my child married to a man without an object to live
+for--without even an object to die for!"
+
+"I hope they will be happy," a strange voice said. The speaker was
+evidently in the room, but I had not heard the door open, and I looked
+round in some astonishment. The Earl seemed to share my surprise. "Who
+spoke?" he exclaimed.
+
+"It was I," said Arthur, looking at us with a worn, haggard face, and
+eyes from which the light of life seemed suddenly to have faded. "And
+let me wish you joy also, dear friend," he added, looking sadly at the
+Earl, and speaking in the same hollow tones that had startled us so
+much.
+
+"Thank you," the old man said, simply and heartily.
+
+A silence followed: then I rose, feeling sure that Arthur would wish to
+be alone, and bade our gentle host 'Good night': Arthur took his hand,
+but said nothing: nor did he speak again, as we went home till we were
+in the house and had lit our bed-room candles. Then he said more to
+himself than to me, "The heart knoweth its own bitterness. I never
+understood those words till now."
+
+The next few days passed wearily enough. I felt no inclination to call
+by myself at the Hall; still less to propose that Arthur should go
+with me: it seemed better to wait till Time--that gentle healer of our
+bitterest sorrows should have helped him to recover from the first shock
+of the disappointment that had blighted his life.
+
+Business however soon demanded my presence in town; and I had to
+announce to Arthur that I must leave him for a while. "But I hope to run
+down again in a month," I added. "I would stay now, if I could. I don't
+think it's good for you to be alone."
+
+"No, I ca'n't face solitude, here, for long," said Arthur. "But don't
+think about me. I have made up my mind to accept a post in India, that
+has been offered me. Out there, I suppose I shall find something to live
+for; I ca'n't see anything at present. 'This life of mine I guard, as
+God's high gift, from scathe and wrong, Not greatly care to lose!'"
+
+"Yes," I said: "your name-sake bore as heavy a blow, and lived through
+it."
+
+"A far heavier one than mine," said Arthur. "The woman he loved proved
+false. There is no such cloud as that on my memory of--of--" He left the
+name unuttered, and went on hurriedly. "But you will return, will you
+not?"
+
+"Yes, I shall come back for a short time."
+
+"Do," said Arthur: "and you shall write and tell me of our friends. I'll
+send you my address when I'm settled down."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 24. THE FROGS' BIRTHDAY-TREAT.
+
+And so it came to pass that, just a week after the day when my
+Fairy-friends first appeared as Children, I found myself taking a
+farewell-stroll through the wood, in the hope of meeting them once more.
+I had but to stretch myself on the smooth turf, and the 'eerie' feeling
+was on me in a moment.
+
+"Put oor ear welly low down," said Bruno, "and I'll tell oo a secret!
+It's the Frogs' Birthday-Treat--and we've lost the Baby!"
+
+"What Baby?" I said, quite bewildered by this complicated piece of news.
+
+"The Queen's Baby, a course!" said Bruno. "Titania's Baby. And we's
+welly sorry. Sylvie, she's--oh so sorry!"
+
+"How sorry is she?" I asked, mischievously.
+
+"Three-quarters of a yard," Bruno replied with perfect solemnity. "And
+I'm a little sorry too," he added, shutting his eyes so as not to see
+that he was smiling.
+
+"And what are you doing about the Baby?"
+
+"Well, the soldiers are all looking for it--up and down everywhere."
+
+"The soldiers?" I exclaimed.
+
+"Yes, a course!" said Bruno. "When there's no fighting to be done, the
+soldiers doos any little odd jobs, oo know."
+
+I was amused at the idea of its being a 'little odd job' to find the
+Royal Baby. "But how did you come to lose it?" I asked.
+
+"We put it in a flower," Sylvie, who had just joined us, explained with
+her eyes full of tears. "Only we ca'n't remember which!"
+
+"She says us put it in a flower," Bruno interrupted, "'cause she doosn't
+want I to get punished. But it were really me what put it there. Sylvie
+were picking Dindledums."
+
+{Image...The queen's baby}
+
+"You shouldn't say 'us put it in a flower'," Sylvie very gravely
+remarked.
+
+"Well, hus, then," said Bruno. "I never can remember those horrid H's!"
+
+"Let me help you to look for it," I said. So Sylvie and I made a 'voyage
+of discovery' among all the flowers; but there was no Baby to be seen.
+
+"What's become of Bruno?" I said, when we had completed our tour.
+
+"He's down in the ditch there," said Sylvie, "amusing a young Frog."
+
+I went down on my hands and knees to look for him, for I felt very
+curious to know how young Frogs ought to be amused. After a minute's
+search, I found him sitting at the edge of the ditch, by the side of the
+little Frog, and looking rather disconsolate.
+
+"How are you getting on, Bruno?" I said, nodding to him as he looked up.
+
+"Ca'n't amuse it no more," Bruno answered, very dolefully, "'cause
+it won't say what it would like to do next! I've showed it all
+the duck-weeds--and a live caddis-worm----but it won't say nuffin!
+What--would oo like?'" he shouted into the ear of the Frog: but the
+little creature sat quite still, and took no notice of him. "It's deaf,
+I think!" Bruno said, turning away with a sigh. "And it's time to get
+the Theatre ready."
+
+"Who are the audience to be?"
+
+"Only but Frogs," said Bruno. "But they haven't comed yet. They wants to
+be drove up, like sheep."
+
+"Would it save time," I suggested, "if I were to walk round with Sylvie,
+to drive up the Frogs, while you get the Theatre ready?"
+
+"That are a good plan!" cried Bruno. "But where are Sylvie?"
+
+"I'm here!" said Sylvie, peeping over the edge of the bank. "I was just
+watching two Frogs that were having a race."
+
+"Which won it?" Bruno eagerly inquired.
+
+Sylvie was puzzled. "He does ask such hard questions!" she confided to
+me.
+
+"And what's to happen in the Theatre?" I asked.
+
+"First they have their Birthday-Feast," Sylvie said: "then Bruno does
+some Bits of Shakespeare; then he tells them a Story."
+
+"I should think the Frogs like the Feast best. Don't they?"
+
+"Well, there's generally very few of them that get any. They will keep
+their mouths shut so tight! And it's just as well they do," she added,
+"because Bruno likes to cook it himself: and he cooks very queerly. Now
+they're all in. Would you just help me to put them with their heads the
+right way?"
+
+We soon managed this part of the business, though the Frogs kept up a
+most discontented croaking all the time.
+
+"What are they saying?" I asked Sylvie.
+
+"They're saying 'Fork! Fork!' It's very silly of them! You're not going
+to have forks!" she announced with some severity. "Those that want any
+Feast have just got to open their mouths, and Bruno 'll put some of it
+in!"
+
+At this moment Bruno appeared, wearing a little white apron to show that
+he was a Cook, and carrying a tureen full of very queer-looking soup.
+I watched very carefully as he moved about among the Frogs; but I could
+not see that any of them opened their mouths to be fed--except one
+very young one, and I'm nearly sure it did it accidentally, in yawning.
+However Bruno instantly put a large spoonful of soup into its mouth, and
+the poor little thing coughed violently for some time.
+
+So Sylvie and I had to share the soup between us, and to pretend to
+enjoy it, for it certainly was very queerly cooked.
+
+I only ventured to take one spoonful of it ("Sylvie's Summer-Soup,"
+Bruno said it was), and must candidly confess that it was not at all
+nice; and I could not feel surprised that so many of the guests had kept
+their mouths shut up tight.
+
+"What's the soup made of, Bruno?" said Sylvie, who had put a spoonful of
+it to her lips, and was making a wry face over it.
+
+And Bruno's answer was anything but encouraging. "Bits of things!"
+
+The entertainment was to conclude with "Bits of Shakespeare," as Sylvie
+expressed it, which were all to be done by Bruno, Sylvie being fully
+engaged in making the Frogs keep their heads towards the stage: after
+which Bruno was to appear in his real character, and tell them a Story
+of his own invention.
+
+"Will the Story have a Moral to it?" I asked Sylvie, while Bruno was
+away behind the hedge, dressing for the first 'Bit.'
+
+"I think so," Sylvie replied doubtfully. "There generally is a Moral,
+only he puts it in too soon."
+
+"And will he say all the Bits of Shakespeare?"
+
+"No, he'll only act them," said Sylvie. "He knows hardly any of the
+words. When I see what he's dressed like, I've to tell the Frogs what
+character it is. They're always in such a hurry to guess! Don't you
+hear them all saying 'What? What?'" And so indeed they were: it had only
+sounded like croaking, till Sylvie explained it, but I could now make
+out the "Wawt? Wawt?" quite distinctly.
+
+"But why do they try to guess it before they see it?"
+
+"I don't know," Sylvie said: "but they always do. Sometimes they begin
+guessing weeks and weeks before the day!"
+
+(So now, when you hear the Frogs croaking in a particularly melancholy
+way, you may be sure they're trying to guess Bruno's next Shakespeare
+'Bit'. Isn't that interesting?)
+
+However, the chorus of guessing was cut short by Bruno, who suddenly
+rushed on from behind the scenes, and took a flying leap down among the
+Frogs, to re-arrange them.
+
+For the oldest and fattest Frog--who had never been properly arranged so
+that he could see the stage, and so had no idea what was going on--was
+getting restless, and had upset several of the Frogs, and turned others
+round with their heads the wrong way. And it was no good at all, Bruno
+said, to do a 'Bit' of Shakespeare when there was nobody to look at it
+(you see he didn't count me as anybody). So he set to work with a stick,
+stirring them up, very much as you would stir up tea in a cup, till most
+of them had at least one great stupid eye gazing at the stage.
+
+"Oo must come and sit among them, Sylvie," he said in despair, "I've
+put these two side-by-side, with their noses the same way, ever so many
+times, but they do squarrel so!"
+
+So Sylvie took her place as 'Mistress of the Ceremonies,' and Bruno
+vanished again behind the scenes, to dress for the first 'Bit.'
+
+"Hamlet!" was suddenly proclaimed, in the clear sweet tones I knew so
+well. The croaking all ceased in a moment, and I turned to the stage,
+in some curiosity to see what Bruno's ideas were as to the behaviour of
+Shakespeare's greatest Character.
+
+According to this eminent interpreter of the Drama, Hamlet wore a short
+black cloak (which he chiefly used for muffling up his face, as if he
+suffered a good deal from toothache), and turned out his toes very much
+as he walked. "To be or not to be!" Hamlet remarked in a cheerful tone,
+and then turned head-over-heels several times, his cloak dropping off in
+the performance.
+
+I felt a little disappointed: Bruno's conception of the part seemed so
+wanting in dignity. "Won't he say any more of the speech?" I whispered
+to Sylvie.
+
+"I think not," Sylvie whispered in reply. "He generally turns
+head-over-heels when he doesn't know any more words."
+
+Bruno had meanwhile settled the question by disappearing from the stage;
+and the Frogs instantly began inquiring the name of the next Character.
+
+"You'll know directly!" cried Sylvie, as she adjusted two or three young
+Frogs that had struggled round with their backs to the stage. "Macbeth!"
+she added, as Bruno re-appeared.
+
+Macbeth had something twisted round him, that went over one shoulder and
+under the other arm, and was meant, I believe, for a Scotch plaid. He
+had a thorn in his hand, which he held out at arm's length, as if he
+were a little afraid of it. "Is this a dagger?" Macbeth inquired, in a
+puzzled sort of tone: and instantly a chorus of "Thorn! Thorn!" arose
+from the Frogs (I had quite learned to understand their croaking by this
+time).
+
+"It's a dagger!" Sylvie proclaimed in a peremptory tone. "Hold your
+tongues!" And the croaking ceased at once.
+
+Shakespeare has not told us, so far as I know, that Macbeth had any such
+eccentric habit as turning head-over-heels in private life: but Bruno
+evidently considered it quite an essential part of the character, and
+left the stage in a series of somersaults. However, he was back again
+in a few moments, having tucked under his chin the end of a tuft of
+wool (probably left on the thorn by a wandering sheep), which made a
+magnificent beard, that reached nearly down to his feet.
+
+"Shylock!" Sylvie proclaimed. "No, I beg your pardon!" she hastily
+corrected herself, "King Lear! I hadn't noticed the crown." (Bruno had
+very cleverly provided one, which fitted him exactly, by cutting out the
+centre of a dandelion to make room for his head.)
+
+King Lear folded his arms (to the imminent peril of his beard) and said,
+in a mild explanatory tone, "Ay, every inch a king!" and then paused,
+as if to consider how this could best be proved. And here, with all
+possible deference to Bruno as a Shakespearian critic, I must express my
+opinion that the poet did not mean his three great tragic heroes to be
+so strangely alike in their personal habits; nor do I believe that he
+would have accepted the faculty of turning head-over-heels as any proof
+at all of royal descent. Yet it appeared that King Lear, after deep
+meditation, could think of no other argument by which to prove his
+kingship: and, as this was the last of the 'Bits' of Shakespeare ("We
+never do more than three," Sylvie explained in a whisper), Bruno gave
+the audience quite a long series of somersaults before he finally
+retired, leaving the enraptured Frogs all crying out "More! More!" which
+I suppose was their way of encoring a performance. But Bruno wouldn't
+appear again, till the proper time came for telling the Story.
+
+{Image...The frogs' birthday-treat}
+
+When he appeared at last in his real character, I noticed a remarkable
+change in his behaviour.
+
+He tried no more somersaults. It was clearly his opinion that, however
+suitable the habit of turning head-over-heels might be to such petty
+individuals as Hamlet and King Lear, it would never do for Bruno to
+sacrifice his dignity to such an extent. But it was equally clear that
+he did not feel entirely at his ease, standing all alone on the stage,
+with no costume to disguise him: and though he began, several times,
+"There were a Mouse--," he kept glancing up and down, and on all sides,
+as if in search of more comfortable quarters from which to tell the
+Story. Standing on one side of the stage, and partly overshadowing it,
+was a tall foxglove, which seemed, as the evening breeze gently swayed
+it hither and thither, to offer exactly the sort of accommodation that
+the orator desired. Having once decided on his quarters, it needed only
+a second or two for him to run up the stem like a tiny squirrel, and
+to seat himself astride on the topmost bend, where the fairy-bells
+clustered most closely, and from whence he could look down on his
+audience from such a height that all shyness vanished, and he began his
+Story merrily.
+
+"Once there were a Mouse and a Crocodile and a Man and a Goat and a
+Lion." I had never heard the 'dramatis personae' tumbled into a story
+with such profusion and in such reckless haste; and it fairly took my
+breath away. Even Sylvie gave a little gasp, and allowed three of the
+Frogs, who seemed to be getting tired of the entertainment, to hop away
+into the ditch, without attempting to stop them.
+
+"And the Mouse found a Shoe, and it thought it were a Mouse-trap. So it
+got right in, and it stayed in ever so long."
+
+"Why did it stay in?" said Sylvie. Her function seemed to be much the
+same as that of the Chorus in a Greek Play: she had to encourage the
+orator, and draw him out, by a series of intelligent questions.
+
+"'Cause it thought it couldn't get out again," Bruno explained. "It were
+a clever mouse. It knew it couldn't get out of traps!"
+
+"But why did it go in at all?" said Sylvie.
+
+"--and it jamp, and it jamp," Bruno proceeded, ignoring this question,
+"and at last it got right out again. And it looked at the mark in the
+Shoe. And the Man's name were in it. So it knew it wasn't its own Shoe."
+
+"Had it thought it was?" said Sylvie.
+
+"Why, didn't I tell oo it thought it were a Mouse-trap?" the indignant
+orator replied. "Please, Mister Sir, will oo make Sylvie attend?" Sylvie
+was silenced, and was all attention: in fact, she and I were most of the
+audience now, as the Frogs kept hopping away, and there were very few of
+them left.
+
+"So the Mouse gave the Man his Shoe. And the Man were welly glad, cause
+he hadn't got but one Shoe, and he were hopping to get the other."
+
+Here I ventured on a question. "Do you mean 'hopping,' or 'hoping'?"
+
+"Bofe," said Bruno. "And the Man took the Goat out of the Sack." ("We
+haven't heard of the sack before," I said. "Nor you won't hear of it
+again," said Bruno). "And he said to the Goat, 'Oo will walk about here
+till I comes back.' And he went and he tumbled into a deep hole. And the
+Goat walked round and round. And it walked under the Tree. And it wug
+its tail. And it looked up in the Tree. And it sang a sad little Song.
+Oo never heard such a sad little Song!"
+
+"Can you sing it, Bruno?" I asked.
+
+"Iss, I can," Bruno readily replied. "And I sa'n't. It would make Sylvie
+cry--"
+
+"It wouldn't!," Sylvie interrupted in great indignation. "And I don't
+believe the Goat sang it at all!"
+
+"It did, though!" said Bruno. "It singed it right froo. I sawed it
+singing with its long beard--"
+
+"It couldn't sing with its beard," I said, hoping to puzzle the little
+fellow: "a beard isn't a voice."
+
+"Well then, oo couldn't walk with Sylvie!" Bruno cried triumphantly.
+"Sylvie isn't a foot!"
+
+I thought I had better follow Sylvie's example, and be silent for a
+while. Bruno was too sharp for us.
+
+"And when it had singed all the Song, it ran away--for to get along to
+look for the Man, oo know. And the Crocodile got along after it--for to
+bite it, oo know. And the Mouse got along after the Crocodile."
+
+"Wasn't the Crocodile running?" Sylvie enquired. She appealed to me.
+"Crocodiles do run, don't they?"
+
+I suggested "crawling" as the proper word.
+
+"He wasn't running," said Bruno, "and he wasn't crawling. He went
+struggling along like a portmanteau. And he held his chin ever so high
+in the air--"
+
+"What did he do that for?" said Sylvie.
+
+"'cause he hadn't got a toofache!" said Bruno. "Ca'n't oo make out
+nuffin wizout I 'splain it? Why, if he'd had a toofache, a course he'd
+have held his head down--like this--and he'd have put a lot of warm
+blankets round it!"
+
+"If he'd had any blankets," Sylvie argued.
+
+"Course he had blankets!" retorted her brother. "Doos oo think
+Crocodiles goes walks wizout blankets? And he frowned with his eyebrows.
+And the Goat was welly flightened at his eyebrows!"
+
+"I'd never be afraid of eyebrows!" exclaimed Sylvie.
+
+"I should think oo would, though, if they'd got a Crocodile fastened to
+them, like these had! And so the Man jamp, and he jamp, and at last he
+got right out of the hole."
+
+Sylvie gave another little gasp: this rapid dodging about among the
+characters of the Story had taken away her breath.
+
+"And he runned away for to look for the Goat, oo know. And he heard the
+Lion grunting---"
+
+"Lions don't grunt," said Sylvie.
+
+"This one did," said Bruno. "And its mouth were like a large cupboard.
+And it had plenty of room in its mouth. And the Lion runned after the
+Man for to eat him, oo know. And the Mouse runned after the Lion."
+
+"But the Mouse was running after the Crocodile," I said: "he couldn't
+run after both!"
+
+Bruno sighed over the density of his audience, but explained very
+patiently. "He did runned after bofe: 'cause they went the same way! And
+first he caught the Crocodile, and then he didn't catch the Lion. And
+when he'd caught the Crocodile, what doos oo think he did--'cause he'd
+got pincers in his pocket?"
+
+"I ca'n't guess," said Sylvie.
+
+{Image...'He wrenched out that crocodile's toof!'}
+
+"Nobody couldn't guess it!" Bruno cried in high glee. "Why, he wrenched
+out that Crocodile's toof!"
+
+"Which tooth?" I ventured to ask.
+
+But Bruno was not to be puzzled. "The toof he were going to bite the
+Goat with, a course!"
+
+"He couldn't be sure about that," I argued, "unless he wrenched out all
+its teeth."
+
+Bruno laughed merrily, and half sang, as he swung himself backwards and
+forwards, "He did--wrenched--out--all its teef!"
+
+"Why did the Crocodile wait to have them wrenched out?" said Sylvie.
+
+"It had to wait," said Bruno.
+
+I ventured on another question. "But what became of the Man who said
+'You may wait here till I come back'?"
+
+"He didn't say 'Oo may,'" Bruno explained. "He said, 'Oo will.' Just
+like Sylvie says to me 'Oo will do oor lessons till twelve o'clock.' Oh,
+I wiss," he added with a little sigh, "I wiss Sylvie would say 'Oo may
+do oor lessons'!"
+
+This was a dangerous subject for discussion, Sylvie seemed to think. She
+returned to the Story. "But what became of the Man?"
+
+"Well, the Lion springed at him. But it came so slow, it were three
+weeks in the air--"
+
+"Did the Man wait for it all that time?" I said.
+
+"Course he didn't!" Bruno replied, gliding head-first down the stem of
+the fox-glove, for the Story was evidently close to its end. "He sold
+his house, and he packed up his things, while the Lion were coming. And
+he went and he lived in another town. So the Lion ate the wrong man."
+
+This was evidently the Moral: so Sylvie made her final proclamation to
+the Frogs. "The Story's finished! And whatever is to be learned from
+it," she added, aside to me, "I'm sure I don't know!"
+
+I did not feel quite clear about it myself, so made no suggestion: but
+the Frogs seemed quite content, Moral or no Moral, and merely raised a
+husky chorus of "Off! Off!" as they hopped away.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 25. LOOKING EASTWARD.
+
+"It's just a week," I said, three days later, to Arthur, "since we heard
+of Lady Muriel's engagement. I think I ought to call, at any rate, and
+offer my congratulations. Won't you come with me?"
+
+A pained expression passed over his face.
+
+"When must you leave us?" he asked.
+
+"By the first train on Monday."
+
+"Well--yes, I will come with you. It would seem strange and unfriendly
+if I didn't. But this is only Friday. Give me till Sunday afternoon. I
+shall be stronger then."
+
+Shading his eyes with one hand, as if half-ashamed of the tears that
+were coursing down his cheeks, he held the other out to me. It trembled
+as I clasped it.
+
+I tried to frame some words of sympathy; but they seemed poor and cold,
+and I left them unspoken. "Good night!" was all I said.
+
+"Good night, dear friend!" he replied. There was a manly vigour in his
+tone that convinced me he was wrestling with, and triumphing over,
+the great sorrow that had so nearly wrecked his life--and that, on the
+stepping-stone of his dead self, he would surely rise to higher things!
+
+There was no chance, I was glad to think, as we set out on Sunday
+afternoon, of meeting Eric at the Hall, as he had returned to town
+the day after his engagement was announced. His presence might have
+disturbed the calm--the almost unnatural calm--with which Arthur met
+the woman who had won his heart, and murmured the few graceful words of
+sympathy that the occasion demanded.
+
+Lady Muriel was perfectly radiant with happiness: sadness could not live
+in the light of such a smile: and even Arthur brightened under it, and,
+when she remarked "You see I'm watering my flowers, though it is the
+Sabbath-Day," his voice had almost its old ring of cheerfulness as he
+replied "Even on the Sabbath-Day works of mercy are allowed. But this
+isn't the Sabbath-Day. The Sabbath-day has ceased to exist."
+
+"I know it's not Saturday," Lady Muriel replied; "but isn't Sunday often
+called 'the Christian Sabbath'?"
+
+"It is so called, I think, in recognition of the spirit of the Jewish
+institution, that one day in seven should be a day of rest. But I hold
+that Christians are freed from the literal observance of the Fourth
+Commandment."
+
+"Then where is our authority for Sunday observance?"
+
+"We have, first, the fact that the seventh day was 'sanctified', when
+God rested from the work of Creation. That is binding on us as Theists.
+Secondly, we have the fact that 'the Lord's Day' is a Christian
+institution. That is binding on us as Christians."
+
+"And your practical rules would be--?"
+
+"First, as Theists, to keep it holy in some special way, and to make
+it, so far as is reasonably possible, a day of rest. Secondly, as
+Christians, to attend public worship."
+
+"And what of amusements?"
+
+"I would say of them, as of all kinds of work, whatever is innocent on a
+week-day, is innocent on Sunday, provided it does not interfere with the
+duties of the day."
+
+"Then you would allow children to play on Sunday?"
+
+"Certainly I should. Why make the day irksome to their restless
+natures?"
+
+"I have a letter somewhere," said Lady Muriel, "from an old friend,
+describing the way in which Sunday was kept in her younger days. I will
+fetch it for you."
+
+"I had a similar description, viva voce, years ago," Arthur said when
+she had left us, "from a little girl. It was really touching to hear
+the melancholy tone in which she said 'On Sunday I mustn't play with my
+doll! On Sunday I mustn't run on the sands! On Sunday I mustn't dig
+in the garden!' Poor child! She had indeed abundant cause for hating
+Sunday!"
+
+"Here is the letter," said Lady Muriel, returning. "Let me read you a
+piece of it."
+
+"When, as a child, I first opened my eyes on a Sunday-morning, a feeling
+of dismal anticipation, which began at least on the Friday, culminated.
+I knew what was before me, and my wish, if not my word, was 'Would
+God it were evening!' It was no day of rest, but a day of texts,
+of catechisms (Watts'), of tracts about converted swearers, godly
+charwomen, and edifying deaths of sinners saved.
+
+"Up with the lark, hymns and portions of Scripture had to be learned by
+heart till 8 o'clock, when there were family-prayers, then breakfast,
+which I was never able to enjoy, partly from the fast already undergone,
+and partly from the outlook I dreaded.
+
+"At 9 came Sunday-School; and it made me indignant to be put into
+the class with the village-children, as well as alarmed lest, by some
+mistake of mine, I should be put below them.
+
+"The Church-Service was a veritable Wilderness of Zin. I wandered in
+it, pitching the tabernacle of my thoughts on the lining of the square
+family-pew, the fidgets of my small brothers, and the horror of knowing
+that, on the Monday, I should have to write out, from memory, jottings
+of the rambling disconnected extempore sermon, which might have had any
+text but its own, and to stand or fall by the result.
+
+"This was followed by a cold dinner at 1 (servants to have no work),
+Sunday-School again from 2 to 4, and Evening-Service at 6. The intervals
+were perhaps the greatest trial of all, from the efforts I had to make,
+to be less than usually sinful, by reading books and sermons as barren
+as the Dead Sea. There was but one rosy spot, in the distance, all that
+day: and that was 'bed-time,' which never could come too early!"
+
+"Such teaching was well meant, no doubt," said Arthur; "but it must
+have driven many of its victims into deserting the Church-Services
+altogether."
+
+"I'm afraid I was a deserter this morning," she gravely said. "I had
+to write to Eric. Would you--would you mind my telling you something he
+said about prayer? It had never struck me in that light before."
+
+"In what light?" said Arthur.
+
+"Why, that all Nature goes by fixed, regular laws--Science has proved
+that. So that asking God to do anything (except of course praying for
+spiritual blessings) is to expect a miracle: and we've no right to do
+that. I've not put it as well as he did: but that was the outcome of
+it, and it has confused me. Please tell me what you can say in answer to
+it."
+
+"I don't propose to discuss Captain Lindon's difficulties," Arthur
+gravely replied; "specially as he is not present. But, if it is your
+difficulty," (his voice unconsciously took a tenderer tone) "then I will
+speak."
+
+"It is my difficulty," she said anxiously.
+
+"Then I will begin by asking 'Why did you except spiritual blessings?'
+Is not your mind a part of Nature?"
+
+"Yes, but Free-Will comes in there--I can choose this or that; and God
+can influence my choice."
+
+"Then you are not a Fatalist?"
+
+"Oh, no!" she earnestly exclaimed.
+
+"Thank God!" Arthur said to himself, but in so low a whisper that only
+I heard it. "You grant then that I can, by an act of free choice, move
+this cup," suiting the action to the word, "this way or that way?"
+
+"Yes, I grant it."
+
+"Well, let us see how far the result is produced by fixed laws. The cup
+moves because certain mechanical forces are impressed on it by my hand.
+My hand moves because certain forces--electric, magnetic, or whatever
+'nerve-force' may prove to be--are impressed on it by my brain. This
+nerve-force, stored in the brain, would probably be traceable, if
+Science were complete, to chemical forces supplied to the brain by
+the blood, and ultimately derived from the food I eat and the air I
+breathe."
+
+"But would not that be Fatalism? Where would Free-Will come in?"
+
+"In choice of nerves," replied Arthur. "The nerve-force in the brain may
+flow just as naturally down one nerve as down another. We need something
+more than a fixed Law of Nature to settle which nerve shall carry it.
+That 'something' is Free-Will."
+
+Her eyes sparkled. "I see what you mean!" she exclaimed. "Human
+Free-Will is an exception to the system of fixed Law. Eric said
+something like that. And then I think he pointed out that God can only
+influence Nature by influencing Human Wills. So that we might reasonably
+pray 'give us this day our daily bread,' because many of the causes that
+produce bread are under Man's control. But to pray for rain, or fine
+weather, would be as unreasonable as--" she checked herself, as if
+fearful of saying something irreverent.
+
+In a hushed, low tone, that trembled with emotion, and with the
+solemnity of one in the presence of death, Arthur slowly replied "Shalt
+he that contendeth with the Almighty instruct him? Shall we 'the swarm
+that in the noontide beam were born,' feeling in ourselves the power to
+direct, this way or that, the forces of Nature--of Nature, of which we
+form so trivial a part--shall we, in our boundless arrogance, in our
+pitiful conceit, deny that power to the Ancient of Days? Saying, to
+our Creator, 'Thus far and no further. Thou madest, but thou canst not
+rule!'?"
+
+Lady Muriel had covered her face in her hands, and did not look up. She
+only murmured "Thanks, thanks!" again and again.
+
+We rose to go. Arthur said, with evident effort, "One word more. If you
+would know the power of Prayer--in anything and everything that Man can
+need try it. Ask, and it shall be given you. I--have tried it. I know
+that God answers prayer!"
+
+Our walk home was a silent one, till we had nearly reached the
+lodgings: then Arthur murmured--and it was almost an echo of my own
+thoughts--"What knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt save thy
+husband?"
+
+The subject was not touched on again. We sat on, talking, while hour
+after hour, of this our last night together, glided away unnoticed. He
+had much to tell me about India, and the new life he was going to, and
+the work he hoped to do. And his great generous soul seemed so filled
+with noble ambition as to have no space left for any vain regret or
+selfish repining.
+
+"Come, it is nearly morning! Arthur said at last, rising and leading the
+way upstairs.
+
+"The sun will be rising in a few minutes: and, though I have basely
+defrauded you of your last chance of a night's rest here, I'm sure
+you'll forgive me: for I really couldn't bring myself to say 'Good
+night' sooner. And God knows whether you'll ever see me again, or hear
+of me!"
+
+"Hear of you I am certain I shall!" I warmly responded, and quoted the
+concluding lines of that strange poem 'Waring':--
+
+
+    "Oh, never star
+    Was lost here, but it rose afar
+    Look East, where whole new thousands are!
+    In Vishnu-land what Avatar?"
+
+"Aye, look Eastward!" Arthur eagerly replied, pausing at the stair-case
+window, which commanded a fine view of the sea and the eastward horizon.
+"The West is the fitting tomb for all the sorrow and the sighing, all
+the errors and the follies of the Past: for all its withered Hopes and
+all its buried Loves! From the East comes new strength, new ambition,
+new Hope, new Life, new Love! Look Eastward! Aye, look Eastward!"
+
+His last words were still ringing in my ears as I entered my room, and
+undrew the window-curtains, just in time to see the sun burst in glory
+from his ocean-prison, and clothe the world in the light of a new day.
+
+"So may it be for him, and me, and all of us!" I mused. "All that is
+evil, and dead, and hopeless, fading with the Night that is past! All
+that is good, and living, and hopeful, rising with the dawn of Day!
+
+"Fading, with the Night, the chilly mists, and the noxious vapours,
+and the heavy shadows, and the wailing gusts, and the owl's melancholy
+hootings: rising, with the Day, the darting shafts of light, and the
+wholesome morning breeze, and the warmth of a dawning life, and the mad
+music of the lark! Look Eastward!
+
+"Fading, with the Night, the clouds of ignorance, and the deadly blight
+of sin, and the silent tears of sorrow: and ever rising, higher, higher,
+with the Day, the radiant dawn of knowledge, and the sweet breath of
+purity, and the throb of a world's ecstasy! Look Eastward!
+
+{Image...'Look eastward!'}
+
+"Fading, with the Night, the memory of a dead love, and the withered
+leaves of a blighted hope, and the sickly repinings and moody regrets
+that numb the best energies of the soul: and rising, broadening, rolling
+upward like a living flood, the manly resolve, and the dauntless will,
+and the heavenward gaze of faith--the substance of things hoped for, the
+evidence of things not seen!
+
+"Look Eastward! Aye, look Eastward!"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+One little picture in this book, the Magic Locket, at p. 77, was drawn
+by 'Miss Alice Havers.' I did not state this on the title-page, since
+it seemed only due, to the artist of all these (to my mind) wonderful
+pictures, that his name should stand there alone.
+
+The descriptions, at pp. 386, 387, of Sunday as spent by children of
+the last generation, are quoted verbatim from a speech made to me by a
+child-friend and a letter written to me by a lady-friend.
+
+The Chapters, headed 'Fairy Sylvie' and 'Bruno's Revenge,' are a
+reprint, with a few alterations, of a little fairy-tale which I wrote in
+the year 1867, at the request of the late Mrs. Gatty, for 'Aunt Judy's
+Magazine,' which she was then editing.
+
+It was in 1874, I believe, that the idea first occurred to me of making
+it the nucleus of a longer story. As the years went on, I jotted down,
+at odd moments, all sorts of odd ideas, and fragments of dialogue, that
+occurred to me--who knows how?--with a transitory suddenness that left
+me no choice but either to record them then and there, or to abandon
+them to oblivion. Sometimes one could trace to their source these random
+flashes of thought--as being suggested by the book one was reading,
+or struck out from the 'flint' of one's own mind by the 'steel' of
+a friend's chance remark but they had also a way of their own, of
+occurring, a propos of nothing--specimens of that hopelessly illogical
+phenomenon, 'an effect without a cause.' Such, for example, was the last
+line of 'The Hunting of the Snark,' which came into my head (as I have
+already related in 'The Theatre' for April, 1887) quite suddenly, during
+a solitary walk: and such, again, have been passages which occurred in
+dreams, and which I cannot trace to any antecedent cause whatever. There
+are at least two instances of such dream-suggestions in this book--one,
+my Lady's remark, 'it often runs in families, just as a love for pastry
+does', at p. 88; the other, Eric Lindon's badinage about having been
+in domestic service, at p. 332. And thus it came to pass that I found
+myself at last in possession of a huge unwieldy mass of litterature--if
+the reader will kindly excuse the spelling--which only needed stringing
+together, upon the thread of a consecutive story, to constitute the book
+I hoped to write. Only! The task, at first, seemed absolutely hopeless,
+and gave me a far clearer idea, than I ever had before, of the meaning
+of the word 'chaos': and I think it must have been ten years, or more,
+before I had succeeded in classifying these odds-and-ends sufficiently
+to see what sort of a story they indicated: for the story had to grow
+out of the incidents, not the incidents out of the story I am telling
+all this, in no spirit of egoism, but because I really believe that some
+of my readers will be interested in these details of the 'genesis' of
+a book, which looks so simple and straight-forward a matter, when
+completed, that they might suppose it to have been written straight off,
+page by page, as one would write a letter, beginning at the beginning;
+and ending at the end.
+
+It is, no doubt, possible to write a story in that way: and, if it be
+not vanity to say so, I believe that I could, myself,--if I were in the
+unfortunate position (for I do hold it to be a real misfortune) of being
+obliged to produce a given amount of fiction in a given time,--that I
+could 'fulfil my task,' and produce my 'tale of bricks,' as other slaves
+have done. One thing, at any rate, I could guarantee as to the story so
+produced--that it should be utterly commonplace, should contain no new
+ideas whatever, and should be very very weary reading!
+
+This species of literature has received the very appropriate name of
+'padding' which might fitly be defined as 'that which all can write and
+none can read.' That the present volume contains no such writing I dare
+not avow: sometimes, in order to bring a picture into its proper place,
+it has been necessary to eke out a page with two or three extra lines:
+but I can honestly say I have put in no more than I was absolutely
+compelled to do.
+
+My readers may perhaps like to amuse themselves by trying to detect, in
+a given passage, the one piece of 'padding' it contains. While arranging
+the 'slips' into pages, I found that the passage, whichnow extends
+from the top of p. 35 to the middle of p. 38, was 3 lines too short.
+I supplied the deficiency, not by interpolating a word here and a word
+there, but by writing in 3 consecutive lines. Now can my readers guess
+which they are?
+
+A harder puzzle if a harder be desired would be to determine, as to the
+Gardener's Song, in which cases (if any) the stanza was adapted to the
+surrounding text, and in which (if any) the text was adapted to the
+stanza.
+
+Perhaps the hardest thing in all literature--at least I have found it
+so: by no voluntary effort can I accomplish it: I have to take it as it
+come's is to write anything original. And perhaps the easiest is, when
+once an original line has been struck out, to follow it up, and to write
+any amount more to the same tune. I do not know if 'Alice in Wonderland'
+was an original story--I was, at least, no conscious imitator in writing
+it--but I do know that, since it came out, something like a dozen
+story-books have appeared, on identically the same pattern. The path I
+timidly explored believing myself to be 'the first that ever burst into
+that silent sea'--is now a beaten high-road: all the way-side flowers
+have long ago been trampled into the dust: and it would be courting
+disaster for me to attempt that style again.
+
+Hence it is that, in 'Sylvie and Bruno,' I have striven with I know not
+what success to strike out yet another new path: be it bad or good, it
+is the best I can do. It is written, not for money, and not for fame,
+but in the hope of supplying, for the children whom I love, some
+thoughts that may suit those hours of innocent merriment which are the
+very life of Childhood; and also in the hope of suggesting, to them and
+to others, some thoughts that may prove, I would fain hope, not wholly
+out of harmony with the graver cadences of Life.
+
+If I have not already exhausted the patience of my readers, I would like
+to seize this opportunity perhaps the last I shall have of addressing so
+many friends at once of putting on record some ideas that have occurred
+to me, as to books desirable to be written--which I should much like to
+attempt, but may not ever have the time or power to carry through--in
+the hope that, if I should fail (and the years are gliding away very
+fast) to finish the task I have set myself, other hands may take it up.
+
+First, a Child's Bible. The only real essentials of this would be,
+carefully selected passages, suitable for a child's reading and
+pictures. One principle of selection, which I would adopt, would be that
+Religion should be put before a child as a revelation of love no need to
+pain and puzzle the young mind with the history of crime and punishment.
+(On such a principle I should, for example, omit the history of the
+Flood.) The supplying of the pictures would involve no great difficulty:
+no new ones would be needed: hundreds of excellent pictures already
+exist, the copyright of which has long ago expired, and which simply
+need photo-zincography, or some similar process, for their successful
+reproduction. The book should be handy in size with a pretty attractive
+looking cover--in a clear legible type--and, above all, with abundance
+of pictures, pictures, pictures!
+
+Secondly, a book of pieces selected from the Bible--not single texts,
+but passages of from 10 to 20 verses each--to be committed to memory.
+Such passages would be found useful, to repeat to one's self and
+to ponder over, on many occasions when reading is difficult, if
+not impossible: for instance, when lying awake at night--on a
+railway-journey--when taking a solitary walk-in old age, when eye-sight
+is failing of wholly lost--and, best of all, when illness, while
+incapacitating us for reading or any other occupation, condemns us to
+lie awake through many weary silent hours: at such a time how keenly
+one may realise the truth of David's rapturous cry 'O how sweet are thy
+words unto my throat: yea, sweeter than honey unto my mouth!'
+
+I have said 'passages,' rather than single texts, because we have no
+means of recalling single texts: memory needs links, and here are none:
+one may have a hundred texts stored in the memory, and not be able
+to recall, at will, more than half-a-dozen--and those by mere chance:
+whereas, once get hold of any portion of a chapter that has been
+committed to memory, and the whole can be recovered: all hangs together.
+
+Thirdly, a collection of passages, both prose and verse, from books
+other than the Bible. There is not perhaps much, in what is called
+'un-inspired' literature (a misnomer, I hold: if Shakespeare was not
+inspired, one may well doubt if any man ever was), that will bear the
+process of being pondered over, a hundred times: still there are such
+passages--enough, I think, to make a goodly store for the memory.
+
+These two books of sacred, and secular, passages for memory--will serve
+other good purposes besides merely occupying vacant hours: they
+will help to keep at bay many anxious thoughts, worrying thoughts,
+uncharitable thoughts, unholy thoughts. Let me say this, in better
+words than my own, by copying a passage from that most interesting book,
+Robertson's Lectures on the Epistles to the Corinthians, Lecture XLIX.
+"If a man finds himself haunted by evil desires and unholy images, which
+will generally be at periodical hours, let him commit to memory passages
+of Scripture, or passages from the best writers in verse or prose. Let
+him store his mind with these, as safeguards to repeat when he lies
+awake in some restless night, or when despairing imaginations, or
+gloomy, suicidal thoughts, beset him. Let these be to him the sword,
+turning everywhere to keep the way of the Garden of Life from the
+intrusion of profaner footsteps."
+
+Fourthly, a "Shakespeare" for girls: that is, an edition in which
+everything, not suitable for the perusal of girls of (say) from 10
+to 17, should be omitted. Few children under 10 would be likely to
+understand or enjoy the greatest of poets: and those, who have passed
+out of girlhood, may safely be left to read Shakespeare, in any edition,
+'expurgated' or not, that they may prefer: but it seems a pity that
+so many children, in the intermediate stage, should be debarred from
+a great pleasure for want of an edition suitable to them. Neither
+Bowdler's, Chambers's, Brandram's, nor Cundell's 'Boudoir' Shakespeare,
+seems to me to meet the want: they are not sufficiently 'expurgated.'
+Bowdler's is the most extraordinary of all: looking through it, I am
+filled with a deep sense of wonder, considering what he has left in,
+that he should have cut anything out! Besides relentlessly erasing all
+that is unsuitable on the score of reverence or decency, I should be
+inclined to omit also all that seems too difficult, or not likely
+to interest young readers. The resulting book might be slightly
+fragmentary: but it would be a real treasure to all British maidens who
+have any taste for poetry.
+
+If it be needful to apologize to any one for the new departure I have
+taken in this story--by introducing, along with what will, I hope, prove
+to be acceptable nonsense for children, some of the graver thoughts of
+human life--it must be to one who has learned the Art of keeping such
+thoughts wholly at a distance in hours of mirth and careless ease. To
+him such a mixture will seem, no doubt, ill-judged and repulsive. And
+that such an Art exists I do not dispute: with youth, good health, and
+sufficient money, it seems quite possible to lead, for years together,
+a life of unmixed gaiety--with the exception of one solemn fact, with
+which we are liable to be confronted at any moment, even in the midst
+of the most brilliant company or the most sparkling entertainment. A
+man may fix his own times for admitting serious thought, for attending
+public worship, for prayer, for reading the Bible: all such matters he
+can defer to that 'convenient season', which is so apt never to occur
+at all: but he cannot defer, for one single moment, the necessity of
+attending to a message, which may come before he has finished reading
+this page,' this night shalt thy soul be required of thee.'
+
+The ever-present sense of this grim possibility has been, in all ages,*
+
+
+     Note... At the moment, when I had written these words, there
+     was a knock at the door, and a telegram was brought me,
+     announcing the sudden death of a dear friend.
+
+an incubus that men have striven to shake off. Few more interesting
+subjects of enquiry could be found, by a student of history, than the
+various weapons that have been used against this shadowy foe. Saddest
+of all must have been the thoughts of those who saw indeed an
+existence beyond the grave, but an existence far more terrible than
+annihilation--an existence as filmy, impalpable, all but invisible
+spectres, drifting about, through endless ages, in a world of shadows,
+with nothing to do, nothing to hope for, nothing to love! In the midst
+of the gay verses of that genial 'bon vivant' Horace, there stands one
+dreary word whose utter sadness goes to one's heart. It is the word
+'exilium' in the well-known passage
+
+
+    Omnes eodem cogimur, omnium
+    Versatur urna serius ocius
+    Sors exitura et nos in aeternum
+    Exilium impositura cymbae.
+
+Yes, to him this present life--spite of all its weariness and all its
+sorrow--was the only life worth having: all else was 'exile'! Does it
+not seem almost incredible that one, holding such a creed, should ever
+have smiled?
+
+And many in this day, I fear, even though believing in an existence
+beyond the grave far more real than Horace ever dreamed of, yet regard
+it as a sort of 'exile' from all the joys of life, and so adopt Horace's
+theory, and say 'let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.'
+
+We go to entertainments, such as the theatre--I say 'we', for I also
+go to the play, whenever I get a chance of seeing a really good one and
+keep at arm's length, if possible, the thought that we may not return
+alive. Yet how do you know--dear friend, whose patience has carried you
+through this garrulous preface that it may not be your lot, when mirth
+is fastest and most furious, to feel the sharp pang, or the deadly
+faintness, which heralds the final crisis--to see, with vague wonder,
+anxious friends bending over you to hear their troubled whispers perhaps
+yourself to shape the question, with trembling lips, "Is it serious?",
+and to be told "Yes: the end is near" (and oh, how different all Life
+will look when those words are said!)--how do you know, I say, that all
+this may not happen to you, this night?
+
+And dare you, knowing this, say to yourself "Well, perhaps it is an
+immoral play: perhaps the situations are a little too 'risky', the
+dialogue a little too strong, the 'business' a little too suggestive. I
+don't say that conscience is quite easy: but the piece is so clever, I
+must see it this once! I'll begin a stricter life to-morrow." To-morrow,
+and to-morrow, and tomorrow!
+
+
+   "Who sins in hope, who, sinning, says,
+   'Sorrow for sin God's judgement stays!'
+   Against God's Spirit he lies; quite stops
+   Mercy with insult; dares, and drops,
+   Like a scorch'd fly, that spins in vain
+   Upon the axis of its pain,
+   Then takes its doom, to limp and crawl,
+   Blind and forgot, from fall to fall."
+
+Let me pause for a moment to say that I believe this thought, of the
+possibility of death--if calmly realised, and steadily faced would be
+one of the best possible tests as to our going to any scene of amusement
+being right or wrong. If the thought of sudden death acquires, for you,
+a special horror when imagined as happening in a theatre, then be very
+sure the theatre is harmful for you, however harmless it may be for
+others; and that you are incurring a deadly peril in going. Be sure the
+safest rule is that we should not dare to live in any scene in which we
+dare not die.
+
+But, once realise what the true object is in life--that it is not
+pleasure, not knowledge, not even fame itself, 'that last infirmity of
+noble minds'--but that it is the development of character, the rising
+to a higher, nobler, purer standard, the building-up of the perfect
+Man--and then, so long as we feel that this is going on, and will (we
+trust) go on for evermore, death has for us no terror; it is not a
+shadow, but a light; not an end, but a beginning!
+
+One other matter may perhaps seem to call for apology--that I should
+have treated with such entire want of sympathy the British passion for
+'Sport', which no doubt has been in by-gone days, and is still, in
+some forms of it, an excellent school for hardihood and for coolness in
+moments of danger. But I am not entirely without sympathy for genuine
+'Sport': I can heartily admire the courage of the man who, with severe
+bodily toil, and at the risk of his life, hunts down some 'man-eating'
+tiger: and I can heartily sympathize with him when he exults in the
+glorious excitement of the chase and the hand-to-hand struggle with the
+monster brought to bay. But I can but look with deep wonder and sorrow
+on the hunter who, at his ease and in safety, can find pleasure in what
+involves, for some defenceless creature, wild terror and a death of
+agony: deeper, if the hunter be one who has pledged himself to preach
+to men the Religion of universal Love: deepest of all, if it be one of
+those 'tender and delicate' beings, whose very name serves as a
+symbol of Love--'thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of
+women'--whose mission here is surely to help and comfort all that are in
+pain or sorrow!
+
+
+   'Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
+   To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
+   He prayeth well, who loveth well
+   Both man and bird and beast.
+
+   He prayeth best, who loveth best
+   All things both great and small;
+   For the dear God who loveth us,
+   He made and loveth all.'
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sylvie and Bruno, by Lewis Carroll
+
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