1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
|
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
<title>Stories Told by the Miller | Project Gutenberg</title>
<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg"/>
<meta name="cover" content="images/cover.jpg" />
<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Violet Jacob"/>
<meta name="DC.Illustrator" content="William Dacres Adams"/>
<meta name="DC.Title" content="Stories Told by the Miller"/>
<meta name="DC.Language" content="en"/>
<meta name="DC.Created" content="1909"/>
<meta name="DC.date.issued" content="1909"/>
<meta name="DC.Subject" content="Fiction"/>
<meta name="Tags" content="fiction, juvenile, short story, folklore"/>
<meta name="generator" content="fpgen 4.65"/>
<style type="text/css">
body { margin-left:8%;margin-right:10%; }
.it { font-style:italic; }
.bold { font-weight:bold; }
.sc { font-variant:small-caps; }
p { text-indent:0; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em;
text-align: justify; }
div.lgc { }
div.lgl { }
div.lgc p { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; }
div.lgl p { text-indent: -17px; margin-left:17px; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; }
div.lgp {
display:inline-block;
text-align: left;
}
div.lgp p {
text-align:left;
margin-top:0;
margin-bottom:0;
}
.poetry-container {
text-align:center;
}
h1 {
text-align:center;
font-weight:normal;
page-break-before: always;
font-size:1.2em; margin:2em auto 1em auto
}
h3 {
text-align:center;
font-weight:normal;
font-size:1.0em;
margin:1em auto 0.5em auto;
page-break-after:avoid;
}
hr.tbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:30%; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35%; }
hr.pbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em }
.figcenter {
text-align:center;
margin:1em auto;
page-break-inside: avoid;
}
div.blockquote { margin:1em 2em; text-align:justify; }
p.caption { text-align:center; margin:0 auto; width:100%; }
p.credit { text-align:right; margin:0 auto; width: 100%; }
p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; }
div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; }
table { page-break-inside: avoid; }
table.center { margin:0.5em auto; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; }
table.flushleft { margin:0.5em 0em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; }
table.left { margin:0.5em 1.2em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; }
.tab1c1 { }
.tab1c2 { }
.tab2c1 { }
.tab2c2 { }
.tab1c1-col2 { border-right: 0px solid black; }
.tab2c1-col2 { border-right: 0px solid black; }
.tdStyle0 {
padding: 2px 5px; text-align:center; vertical-align:top;
}
.tdStyle1 {
padding: 2px 5px; text-align:right; vertical-align:top;
}
.tdStyle2 {
padding: 2px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px;
}
.pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; }
.noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; }
.hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; }
</style>
<style type="text/css">
.poetry-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em }
.pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0.5em;}
.literal-container { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em }
.figcenter { max-width:600px; }
div.lgc { margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em }
hr.tbk { border:none; border-bottom:1px solid white;
width:30%; margin-left:35%; margin-right:35%;
margin-top: 1.0em; margin-bottom: 1.0em; }
p { margin-top:0em; margin-bottom:0em; }
</style>
</head>
<body>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75166 ***</div>
<div class='figcenter'>
<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='Book Cover' id='iid-0000' style='width:95%;height:auto;'/>
</div>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' -->
<p class='line' style='margin-bottom:2em;font-size:2.4em;'>STORIES</p>
<p class='line' style='font-size:2.4em;'>TOLD BY THE MILLER</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line' style='margin-top:.5em;margin-bottom:5em;font-size:1.2em;'>BY VIOLET JACOB</p>
<p class='line' style='font-size:1.2em;'>AUTHOR OF “IRRESOLUTE CATHERINE,” ETC.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line' style='margin-top:.5em;margin-bottom:10em;font-size:1em;'>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='line' style='margin-top:.5em;font-size:.9em;'>LONDON</p>
<p class='line' style='margin-top:.3em;margin-bottom:.3em;font-size:1.2em;'>JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.</p>
<p class='line' style='margin-bottom:.8em;font-size:.9em;'>1909</p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<div class='lgc' style='margin-top:3em;margin-bottom:3em;'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<p class='line'>TO</p>
<p class='line'>MY BOY HARRY</p>
</div> <!-- end rend -->
<hr class='pbk'/>
<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3.5em;'/>
<col span='1' style='width: 22.5em;'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'>CONTENTS</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>1.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap00'>STORIES TOLD BY THE MILLER</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>2.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap01'>THE STORY OF THE WATER-NIX</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>3.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap02'>THE KING OF GROWGLAND’S CROWN</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>4.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap03'>THE STORY OF MASTER BOGEY</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>5.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap04'>THE TREE OF PRIDE</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>6.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap05'>THE STORY OF FARMYARD MAGGIE</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>7.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap06'>THE FIDDLING GOBLIN</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>8.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap07'>THE WITCH’S CLOAK</a></td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'>9.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#chap08'>CONCLUSION</a></td></tr>
</table>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'>
<colgroup>
<col span='1' style='width: 3.5em;'/>
<col span='1' style='width: 22.5em;'/>
</colgroup>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tab2c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img00'>1.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“ONCE . . . THE MILLER’S MAN SAW HER”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img01'>2.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“THEN THE BIRD TOLD HER THE WHOLE PLOT”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img02'>3.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“SHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img03'>4.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“SHE WOULD SCARCE ANSWER HER FATHER WHEN HE SPOKE”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img04'>5.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“MAGGIE TOOK IT AND BEGAN TO ROCK IT ABOUT”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img05'>6.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“WHIRLING HER SPANGLED VEIL, SHE BEGAN TO GLIDE ABOUT”</td></tr>
<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#img06'>7.</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'>“ ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN”</td></tr>
</table>
<div><h1 id='chap00'>STORIES TOLD BY THE MILLER</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>Janet and little Peter lived in an old white-washed
cottage that stood in a field by the
border of the mill-pool. It was a tiny, weather-stained
cot, to which a narrow path led through
a gap in the low wall of the highroad. Across
the road stood the mill itself, grey, windowless,
and solid, with stone steps leading up to a door,
through which, on a grinding day, you could
hear the noise of the machinery and see the
dusty atmosphere within. Peter and Janet
thought the mill-field over the road a charming
place; and so it was, for at one end the overflow
from the tree-hidden dam poured down its
paved slide in a white waterfall, to wander, a
zigzagging stream, through the field and out,
under the road, to the pool near their cottage.
From the farther side of the dam the mill-lead
ran evenly below the gnarled roots of the trees
shadowing its course, and was lost in that dark
hole in the wall behind which the flashing wheel
turned. The water came racing out to join the
overflow and dive with it through the causeway,
coming up in the pool beyond. From there
it meandered over the country into the river,
which carried it to the sea. On wild days in
winter you might hear the roaring sound of the
North Sea beating against the coast.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Janet and her brother were orphans, and
their lives were very hard; for their grandmother,
with whom they had been lately sent
to live, was a cruel old woman who beat poor
little Peter when she was out of temper. Janet
came in for rough words, and blows, too, sometimes,
although she was almost seventeen, and
old enough to take care of herself. Many a
time she longed to run away, but in her heart
she knew that she would never do so because
she could not leave her brother alone. She
was a good girl, and a pretty one besides, for
her hair was like the corn and she was as
slender as a bulrush. The neighbours whose
boys and girls passed on their way from school
would not let their children have anything to
do with little Peter, for many thought that his
wicked old grandmother was a witch. The
children had made a rhyme that they used to
sing. It was like this:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Peter, Peter, the witch’s brat,</p>
<p class='line0'>Lives in the house with a green-eyed cat!</p>
<p class='line0'>Peter, Peter, we jump for joy,</p>
<p class='line0'>Throwing stones at the witch’s boy!”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='noindent'>And then sometimes they would throw them,
but not when Janet was by, for she would catch
them and shake them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>You</span> are the green-eyed cat!” they would
shout, as they saw her angry face. But they
took care to run as they said it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In spite of their troubles, the brother and
sister were not always unhappy, for there were
many things they liked. One was the crooked
old cherry-tree that grew between their cottage
and the pool, and when the leaves turned fiery
rose-colour in the autumn Peter would pick
them up as they dropped and make them stand
in rows against the wood-pile, pretending they
were armies of red soldiers. The brightest and
reddest ones were the generals, the paler ones
the privates. And the wild cherries tasted
delicious.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day Peter was crying bitterly. The
old woman had beaten him and he was very
sad.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come away,” said Janet. “We will go to
the mill, for I can hear the grinding going on.
No one will notice if we slip into the field, and
we can look right in and see the wheel itself.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Peter forgot all about his trouble and stopped
crying, for she had never allowed him to go so
near the wheel before. They set off and went
round the back of the mill buildings. Oh, how
charmed he was! Janet lifted him up and he
looked through the big hole. Round and round
went the great spokes of the wheel, and the
water, clear as crystal in the darkness, dripped
from it and fell in showers into the brown swirl
below. The sides of the walls were green with
slime and little clumps of fern, and the long
mosses streamed down like tresses of emerald-coloured
hair. At last he drew back and she
sat him on the ground. Then they turned
round to go home, and nearly jumped out of
their skins, for there was the miller looking at
them. He was a tall young man, with a brown
face and clothes covered with white dust; even
the leather leggings he wore were white, and
his hat, which he had pushed back, was white
too.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, my man,” said he to Peter, “and
what do you think of the wheel?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Peter did not know what to say, he was so
much taken aback.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“When I was a little boy,” said the miller,
“I was just like you, and couldn’t keep away
from a mill-wheel if there was one within twenty
miles. ‘When I’m a man,’ said I, ‘it’s a miller
I’ll be.’ And a miller I am.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But little Peter was still too much startled
to understand friendliness. He pointed to the
cottage over the road.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You won’t tell grandmother we came here?”
he asked, his eyes filling with tears.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Not I,” said the miller.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“She would beat him if you did,” remarked
Janet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That’s bad,” observed the miller, pushing
his hat farther back. “I had a grandmother,
too, when I was a little lad; she had a great
cap and horn spectacles.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And did she beat you?” said Peter, gaining
courage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Not she!” exclaimed the miller. “But she
used to comfort me if anyone else did. Such
fine tales she used to tell me, too—some out
of a book and some out of her head! I’ve got
the book in the house now.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Little Peter loved stories more than anything
in the world, and every moment he was growing
less afraid of the miller.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, tell me one!” he cried. “Please tell
me one!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, then,” he said, “and you, too, my
pretty lass. The first I can mind her telling
me was about this very mill. Would you like
to hear about that?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes!” cried little Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so they sat down by the mill-lead, and
the miller began his story.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap01'>THE STORY OF THE WATER-NIX</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>My grandmother was a wonderful woman
(said he): there was nothing she heard that
she ever forgot and she had a good education
at her back, too. Not a thing happened but
she could make a story out of it, and on the
days when she went to market she used to take
me with her in the cart; she would drive and I
sat up beside her, and it was then I heard from
her what I am going to tell you now.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Long ago there lived in the deep water
round the wheel a Water-Nix. She was the
most beautiful lady ever seen, though it was
not many had the luck to catch sight of her,
for she seldom came out of her hiding-place
near the walls. A body might live here a year
and never see her. But sometimes, on light
nights, she would dive under the door and swim
out, and even sit up on the bank, with her thin
white smock trailing in the water. Once—so
grandmother said—the miller’s man saw her
perched upon the wall by the road, just where
the stream runs under it. The drops were
falling off her white feet on to the grass—so he
told grandmother—and though there was only
a little crescent like a sickle in the sky that
night, he could see the water-lilies twisted in
her hair. She was laughing and holding up
her arms at the moon.</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill000.jpg' alt='Man espies fairy bathing in water.' id='img00' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“ONCE . . . THE MILLER’S MAN SAW HER.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>And have <span class='it'>you</span> ever seen her? inquired
little Peter, his eyes round.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Never, said the miller. Well, to go on:
Sometimes she would get through the causeway
and go and lie in the pool over yonder near
your cottage, floating and sending the ripples
widening in great circles round her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, it happened one day that the Nix was
in her place, hidden behind the door near the
wheel, when a pedlar passed by on the road.
He had a pack on his back, gold rings in his
ears and a staff in his hand; for he was a
lusty fellow, landed off a ship that had come
in from the Baltic, and was travelling inland to
sell what wares he could carry. He was singing
as he went, and the Nix came out and swam
close under the walls to hear him. He sang of
the sea, and there was something in his voice
that reminded you of the wind droning in the
rigging. (How grandmother knew that I don’t
know, for she wasn’t there to hear him; but
she had once been in a ship off the coast of
Jutland, so I suppose she guessed it.)</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Out and home and out again,</p>
<p class='line0'>  As the tide rolls heavily,</p>
<p class='line0'>With the ship to steer and the fog to fear,</p>
<p class='line0'>  By the grey banks near the sea.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Hand to the helm and heart to the blast,</p>
<p class='line0'>  And face to the driving rain,</p>
<p class='line0'>And the sea runs high to the glowering sky</p>
<p class='line0'>  As we sail for the North again.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Hark to the mermaids off the shore,</p>
<p class='line0'>  As they sing so bonnilie</p>
<p class='line0'>Through the rocks and caves to the sounding waves</p>
<p class='line0'>  In the grey lands out at sea,</p>
<p class='line0'>  In the caves across the sea.”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>She had never heard such words or such a
tune in her life, and she rose, head and shoulders,
out of the water, crying to the pedlar to sing it
again. But when he saw the yellow hearts of
the water-lilies round her head, he took them
for gold, and he leaned over the little wall and
made a snatch at them. The Nix dived under
again and went back like a flash to the darkness
by the wheel.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But all day long she sat there, singing to
herself all she could remember of the song of
the pedlar; she was like one possessed:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“By the grey banks near the sea,”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='noindent'>she sang, rocking herself about,</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“In the caves across the sea.”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>Now, as time went on her longing grew
stronger and stronger: all the day she thought
of the sea and the grey caves of the coast, and
all night she sat on the wall, looking out eastwards
and listening for any sound of water that
might come inland. (It was at this time that
the miller’s man saw her.) Why this happened
to her I can’t tell, for I don’t know. Perhaps
her relations were those sea-kelpies that haunt
the Baltic.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Be that as it may, one night she crept out of
the pool and followed the banks of the wet
ditch by which it escapes, making for the river.
It must have been a queer sight to see her as
she went, with her wet garments clinging round
her, running down the fields; I always used to
fancy when I was a boy how she would look
from side to side, afraid of being seen, and how
she would stop here and there to listen for the
sea. She reached the marshes and ran out till
she felt the incoming tide about her feet. The
steeple of the town and its lights were strange
to her, but long before she got near them, the
water was deep, and she swam under the bridge
and out through the shipping in the harbour
till she heard the surf and saw the white line
over the bar.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Outside the sea was thundering and booming,
and the salt spray flew in her face, for a rough
night was setting in. Farther and farther she
swam, and soon she felt the current running
strong with her towards the cliffs that stand
miles out and look towards Denmark. The
gulls came swooping over her, but she did not
care; she had seen them at times screaming
behind the plough in the fields round the mill.
But, as the wind rose and the waves lifted her
up and tossed her, she grew frightened; for all
she knew of waters was the stillness of the
pool.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The storm was louder as night went on, and
by morning she was so much buffeted about that
she lay floating among the seaweed. She had no
strength left to go one way or another, and at
last she was cast up on a bit of sandy shore and
sat under the cliffs wondering what to do, for
the place was strange and she was afraid of all
the world. A track wound upwards, so she
followed it till it brought her out high above
the sands. The size of the sea bewildered her
and she gazed about for some place in which to
hide.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Close by was a little circle of tumble-down
wall; she looked over it into a tangle of weeds,
and saw what seemed to her the strangest thing
of all, for she did not know it was a deserted
graveyard. If she had she would have been no
wiser. The crosses leaned sideways out of the
rank thistles and hemlock. Some of the stones
lay flat, with only their carved corners sticking
out and some had the shape of tables; some
were no more than broken pieces. But one of
the graves had once been a very grand place,
with a little building over it to shelter the
stone; its roof was battered in, but it had a
helmet and strange words cut above the doorway.
The Nix made her way to it through
the hemlock; in she went and crouched against
its farthest corner. It was the quietest spot
she had seen. She was so weary that she did
not know what to do, and the sun dazzled her,
for it was growing strong and she was accustomed
to dark places.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She had lain there some time when she heard
steps not far off. Someone was coming along
the ridge of the cliffs. In another minute a
brown goat had jumped into a gap in the circle,
and stood staring in as though it were counting
the tombstones, moving its upper lip from side
to side. Goats seldom passed the mill, and she
was half scared at its beard and wagging ears
and the horns above its solemn face. As she
looked a boy appeared behind it—a rough-looking
boy, with a shock of yellow hair and
a switch in his hand to drive the beast with.
When he saw her he set up a loud cry of terror,
for he did not expect to find anyone in such a
place, and he had never seen a Water-Nix in
his life. Then he took to his heels, and the
goat galloped after him, baaing as it went. The
Nix lay quite still; she could not think why
anyone should run away like that.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She curled herself closer into her refuge.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Presently she heard a noise like the beating
of pots and pans and voices coming nearer.
She crept to the wall and looked over. A whole
crowd of boys was coming with sticks in their
hands, shouting, and as they caught sight of
her, they cried louder, brandishing them. Some
even had the handles of old brooms and the
goat-boy was at their head, beating a tin kettle.
“<span class='it'>There</span> she is!” he cried.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the poor Nix understood that they had
come out after her, and she climbed out of the
graveyard on the side nearest the sea and
began to run for her life. She rushed down
a narrow path winding among great boulders,
and, when she was exhausted, she crept behind
one of them and lay there till the voices had
died away and she thought her pursuers had
given up the chase. When all was still she
rose and went on, not knowing where to go for
peace. Great tears stood in her eyes as she
thought of the mill and the trees by the dam.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In time she came to a huge crag standing
out into the waves and joined to the land by
only a neck of rock no wider than the top of a
wall. She had no fear of growing giddy, for
she knew nothing of the uncomfortable things
that happen to human beings, so she crossed
it. The place looked so lonely that she was
sure there could be nobody there. When she
was over she turned the corner of a rock and
found herself at the foot of a high wall, pierced
by little shot windows and broken by a heavy
iron door. In her astonishment she sprang back,
for in front of it stood a tall man with a fierce
face and eyes like a hawk. The Water-Nix
turned and fled. Poor thing! she did not get
far, for he bounded after her and caught her by
the wrist. She struggled and fought, but it
was no good; he seized her in his strong arms,
and carried her in through the door.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, inside the door was the court of a
great tower, which was hidden on the landward
side by the top of the crag, and the man with
the fierce face was a robber who had made
his home in it. The people who lived in the
country round were terrified of him, for he would
come out at night and harry their villages,
robbing both rich and poor. No one could catch
him, because the narrow crossing over which
the Nix had come was the only way of getting
at the tower, and he and his men would shoot
from behind the loopholes, killing all who approached.
They could not get at him from the
sea, for the rock ran straight down into it like
a wall and nobody could climb it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The robber dragged the Nix into his tower,
not because he wanted to kill her, but because
he had no wife to be mistress of it, and he
thought that so beautiful a lady would be the
very person. He was not at all cruel to her,
and he brought her all the finest things in his
treasure-house. He offered her jewels he had
plundered, necklaces of pearls and diamonds
stolen from the merchant ships he had attacked;
for he was a pirate too and his galleys were
anchored in the deep water of the caves below
his rock. But she scarcely looked at them; the
only ornament she cared for was her wreath
of water-lilies that she used to pluck from the
mill-pool.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But at last the time came when he got angry.
“To-night I am going out,” he said. “The only
thing I have not stolen is a wedding-ring, and
now I want one. I shall land at the first village
up the coast, for I know that the fishermen are
at sea, and at the first house I go to I will seize
the wife’s wedding-ring. To-morrow we will
be married with it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Among the robber’s captives was a priest he
had taken prisoner, so he told him that he must
be ready to marry them as soon as he could
get back with the ring. The priest was sorry
for the Water-Nix and did not want to do it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You will have to,” said the robber, “or you
shall be thrown into the sea.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the poor Water-Nix wrung her hands
and cried and sobbed so piteously that the
priest’s heart smote him, and he cudgelled his
brains to think of some plan to save her. At
last he found one. As soon as the robber’s back
was turned he said: “Bring me the diamond
necklace that he gave you and I will see what
we can do.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When he had got it he went to one of the
robber’s men.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Look at this,” said he. “If you will open
the great door to-night when your chief is
gone, and let us all three out, you shall have
it the moment we reach the mainland. It is so
valuable that, if you sell it, the price will enable
you to live honestly for the rest of your days.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I don’t care for honesty,” said the
robber’s man.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, never mind about being honest,” said
the priest. “You can be rich without that.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That is a grand idea,” replied the other.
“The robber is a cruel master, so I will do as
you say. But if you don’t give me the necklace
the moment we get out of sight of the
tower, I will kill you and the Water-Nix
too.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So when it was dark, and the robber’s galley
had rowed away, the priest took the necklace,
hiding it under his clothes, and he and the Nix
stole out to the door. Everyone was asleep or
drinking but the man who waited for them with
the key he had contrived to get.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They let themselves out so noiselessly that
no one heard them, for the robber’s man had
oiled the lock, and when they reached the
mainland the priest gave him the necklace.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m off. Good luck to you!” he said,
as he snatched it. Then he took to his heels
and ran off with his treasure.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And now I think that is all I can do for
you,” said the priest. And he left the Water-Nix
standing where she was, without so much
as giving her his blessing. The sooner he could
put a few miles between himself and the robber’s
tower the better, he thought.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Nix looked round and round about her.
Below lay the sea, moaning and washing the
shore, and not far off was the outline of the
little graveyard in the faint starlight. She ran
on along the cliffs, for far away a few lights of
the town by the river’s mouth could be seen
twinkling in a row, and she knew that up that
river lay the mill. As morning dawned she
found herself in a thick wood. She was glad,
for what she had seen of people made her wish
to get as far from them as possible, and she
determined to hide all day in the wood, and
travel on all night. She ran far in among the
trees, and threw herself down on a bank and
fell asleep, for she was almost worn out and
her feet ached from the rough ground.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She had slept a long time when she woke
and saw, to her dismay, that someone else was
sitting on the bank, quite near. He was a long,
thin, pale young man, with lank, untidy hair
and shabby clothes, and he was reading aloud
to himself out of a book on his knees. As she
moved he turned and saw her over the fallen
trunk behind which she lay. He shut his book,
taking care to keep a finger between the leaves
to mark the place, and looked calmly at her.
He was the first person she had met who did
not seem surprised to see her. All the same,
she prepared to run away.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t be afraid,” said the student—for
that is what he was. “I notice that you are
a Water-Nix, and, that being so, you are the
very person I should wish to see. This is a
poetry-book that I am reading; the writing is
fine enough, but there is nothing in it as fine
as what <span class='it'>I</span> am going to write. I am going to
make a poem. Three days, I assure you, have
I wandered in this wood trying to think of a
subject for it, and now I have it. It shall be
no less than my meeting with yourself.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he said a long sentence in Latin, which
the Nix could not understand; but, then, neither
could she understand much of anything else he
had said, so it didn’t matter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Ah, yes, you are a Water-Nix,” he continued—“<span class='it'>Nixiana
Aquatica</span>.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he took a pencil out of his pocket and
scribbled down a note on the margin of his
book.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was some time before he left off saying
learned things, and began to consider how his
companion had come to a place so far from the
river, where not even a stream ran through the
trees. He listened to the tale she told him
with astonishment, and at last he put aside his
book and promised to help her to find the way
to the mill. He was very sorry for her, though
now and then he would forget her presence
as he pulled out his pencil to write down the
beginning of the poem he meant to make.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When night came the student and the Nix
started off. He walked in front, and she went
after him, like a dog following its master. In
the morning they hid in an overgrown quarry,
for she was much too frightened to go abroad
in the daylight; and thus they travelled till,
after midnight on the second day, they found
themselves close to the highroad which ran
towards the mill-pool. They sat down to rest.
All was so still that you could hear sounds ever
so far off, and they soon made out that someone
was coming to meet them. Then a man passed
on the road; they could not see him, but he
was singing to himself. And what he sang was
this:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Out and home and out again,</p>
<p class='line0'>  As the tide rolls heavily;</p>
<p class='line0'>With the ship to steer and the fog to fear,</p>
<p class='line0'>  By the grey banks near the sea,</p>
<p class='line0'>  In the caves across the sea.”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>The Nix held her breath as the pedlar—for
it was he—went by, and when he began the
second verse the thought of everything that
had happened went from her. All she could
hear or remember was the beating of the
grey sea, calling her with its compelling
voice.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Without a word she got up and followed the
pedlar and left the student sitting by himself in
the dark. He sat open-mouthed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Back to him from the distance came the
sound of footsteps and the floating refrain.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Bless me!” he exclaimed. “Bless me!
<span class='it'>Nixiana Maritima!</span>”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But it was too dark to write that down on
the margin of his book.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The pedlar walked on singing, and she kept
a little way behind him, treading softly. On
they went till the first streak of daylight broke
in the sky, for he was on his way to the town;
he had sold all his wares and meant to go to
sea again in the first ship he could find leaving
the harbour. When they entered the streets
all the world was asleep, and they passed
through the town unnoticed. Beside the quay
a forest of masts stood dark against the sky,
and here the pedlar halted, looking about him.
Then he turned and saw the Nix.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Hullo!” he cried roughly. “What’s this?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But before he could get nearer she dived
into the water. The pedlar began to shout.
In a minute the place was awake, for at the
sound of his voice men sleeping in their boats
at the quay’s edge leaped ashore to see what
was the matter, windows were opened in the
houses, and everyone was calling out to know
what had happened.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Nix looked back and saw the crowd
collecting. She swam for the harbour’s mouth
with all her strength, and she was so afraid that
they might put to sea and follow her that by
the time the sun rose she was miles out in the
clear waters. All was blue around her, sky and
wave, and the land lay behind, a faint line in the
sunshine. The great ocean was as calm as her
own pool by the mill and her heart sang as she
went out farther and farther. It seemed to her
that the voice’s of the mermaids the pedlar had
sung about were resounding from all the caves
on these haunted shores. She had never been
so happy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She went on and on. Time and space and
distance were as nothing; everything was falling
from her but the sense of a great joy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Far in the distance something was steering
fast to meet her, making white splashes on the
blue expanse, and soon she could see a face and
brown arms rising above the surface. A great
sea-kelpie was coming towards her, the seaweed
trailing from his hair and his shoulders
breasting the water. As they met he held out
his hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She put hers into it. Then they swam out
till the coast was no more, and the remembrance
of the world of men was no more, and disappeared
together into the mists of the
North.</p>
<hr class='tbk'/>
<p class='pindent'>The miller ceased, and little Peter sat spellbound
for a while, for he had forgotten everything
but the adventures of the Water-Nix.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And what happened to her?” he said at
last.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I can’t tell you any more,” replied the
miller; “and how grandmother knew as much
as that I don’t know, though, to be sure, she
understood more than most people about everything.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The kelpie would take care that she came
to no harm,” said Janet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You’re right there,” said the miller. “I
make no doubt but they’re living happily among
the sea-caves hundreds of miles away.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But the man with the untidy hair—you
haven’t told what happened to him,” said the
little boy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Ah yes, there’s more to be said about him,”
answered the miller. “He wrote his poem,
and it made him rich. There was so much
Latin in it that people thought it wonderful.
That brought him in a heap of money. He
married and had a large family, and one of his
daughters was my grandmother. She was a
fine girl, and it seemed to him a bad come-down
in life when she married the miller and came to
live here. But they were very happy, for all
that, and it was from the miller’s man she heard
the story of the Water-Nix.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Is it because your great-grandfather was a
poet that you can tell stories so well?” asked
Janet, with some awe.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, it might be,” said the miller. “Anyhow,
it’s a fine notion. I never thought of it
before.”</p>
<div><h1 id='chap02'>THE KING OF GROWGLAND’S CROWN</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>It was almost a week before the brother and
sister saw the miller again, but one evening
as Janet was coming down the road he jumped
over the wall from the mill-field.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Where’s the little boy?” he asked. “I
hope your grandmother has not been bad to
him again.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Janet, “she’s very cross, but
she hasn’t beaten him for more than a week.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You go and fetch him,” said he. “I have
been looking for the book I told you about—grandmother’s
story-book. I’m not busy to-night,
and we can sit in the field, and I’ll read
him a story.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How lovely!” cried Janet. “I’ll run and
bring him at once.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and mind <span class='it'>you</span> come back, too,” called
the miller after her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In a few minutes she returned, with Peter
jumping and clapping his hands beside her,
and when they had found a nice place, they sat
down to read.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They sat on the roots of a tree by the mill-lead,
with the water babbling at their feet. The
book was old and tattered, and, unfortunately,
there were no pictures in it, but they did
not mind that. They could see just as good
pictures for themselves, in their own minds’ eyes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I will read you a story about three brothers,”
said the miller to Peter; “and there’s a magpie
in it, too, and a pretty young woman like your
sister.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he opened his book and began:</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='pindent'>There was once upon a time a widow who had
three sons; they were fine, strong young men,
and the two elder thought themselves more than
commonly clever. The youngest did not think
much about anything but his business, which
was to keep the sheep, look after the horses,
and supply the pot with the game he brought
home. He was a hard worker, and when he
lay down at night, he was glad enough to sleep,
though the others would usually sit up scheming
how they might grow rich. He thought them
rather grand fellows, all the same, and quite
expected they would do something wonderful.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day the widow called them all and told
them it was high time they saw something of
the world. “To-morrow morning you shall all
be off round it,” she said to the eldest. “You
must start facing east, your next brother facing
west, and when you meet in the middle at the
other side you can compare all you have learned.
As for you,” she went on, turning to the
youngest, “you shall start southward, and no
doubt will be in time to fall in with them and
profit by their knowledge.” She also had a
great opinion of her elder sons.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So off they went, and when they had gone
half round the world, the two elder brothers
came face to face at the other side in a sandy
hollow. They sat down and began to talk.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, brother, and what have you done?”
asked the second.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Done!</span>” exclaimed the first brother; “what
do you mean? I haven’t made a penny or
seen anybody I think as well of as myself.
There is nothing to be got by giving oneself
all this trouble. The world is an overrated
place, I can tell you. What have <span class='it'>you</span> got out
of it?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Nothing,” said the second; “and I agree
heartily with every word you have said.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this moment they looked up and saw the
third brother coming over a hillock. He did
not look much more prosperous than themselves.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We won’t tell him,” they said; “we will
pretend we have done wonders and made our
mark, and then we’ll get a pretext to be rid of
him before he finds out the truth. It would
never do for him to lose his respect for us.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Hi!” cried the youngest brother, “this is
luck indeed!” And when he had greeted
them he sat down beside them in the sand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Hullo! how are you?” said the eldest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well enough,” replied he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And how have you got on, and how much
money have you made?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no money,” replied the young man,
“but I think I have picked up a little experience.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Pooh!” cried the others in a breath.
“That’s all very well, but it isn’t good enough
for <span class='it'>us</span>.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Are you rich, then?” asked the youngest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Rich?” cried the eldest, “did you say rich?
I am rolling in gold. I have a great shop in
which the merchandise of four kingdoms changes
hands, and my counting-house is so fine that
two Emperors drove up last Sunday and asked
if they might be allowed to go over it. I said
yes, of course. There was a Bishop in the
carriage, too.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The youngest brother’s eyes grew round.
“Well, that’s grand indeed,” he said.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And I,” broke in the middle brother—“I
have no taste for buying and selling; in fact, I
think it rather low. But a lady fell in love with
me, so I married her. She inherited money
from a Duke, who is her uncle, and she asks
nothing better than I should spend it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, well!” exclaimed the youngest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then he looked curiously at his companions.
“And how is it,” said he, “that such great
people as you have come here on foot? I should
have imagined you would have arrived on
horseback or in carriages.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, we live so close by that it was not worth
while disturbing the servants,” they replied
quickly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then you live in the nearest town and in
the same house?” continued he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes,” answered the second. “My
wife cherishes me so that she insisted upon my
brother living with us, for fear I should feel
homesick. It was very good of her, but what
an idea to be homesick for such a hole as our
mother’s farm, when I live in the finest house in
the market-square!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Indeed, brothers,” said the youngest, “I
think all this is capital, and so much so that I
shall certainly go back with you at once. I will
start for home early to-morrow, but you shall
give me a lodging for the night, and I promise
you that I shall rejoice at the sight of your
prosperity. I have slept under the stars every
night since I began journeying, and a good soft
bed will be a treat to me. Besides which, I
shall see my sister-in-law and be able to tell
mother all about her.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this the elder men’s faces fell, but there was
nothing for it but to go back by the way they
had come to the nearest town. However, their
brother walked behind as they went, so they
had time to invent a way out of their difficulties.
When they reached their destination, they paused
at the town gate, telling him to stay where he
was while they went to prepare for his coming.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“All right, then,” said he, “but in five minutes
I shall follow.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>They could not help smiling at his innocence,
for they intended to escape as quickly as they
could.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How are you going to find the way?” they
inquired.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Why, haven’t you been telling me that you
live in the finest house in the market-square?
I shall soon find that.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>This was rather a blow to the others, for they
knew that he was swift of foot and that they
would not get far in five minutes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It doesn’t matter,” whispered the middle
brother; “I know a fine trick. We will have
dinner and a night’s lodging at his expense, and
in the morning we will be off before he is awake,
and leave him to pay the reckoning. Come,
look sharp, or he will be after us.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>With that they ran to a large, handsome inn
which stood in the middle of the market-square.
It had a tower on it, and an entrance good
enough for an Alderman’s family.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Landlord,” said the middle brother, “I am
a gentleman from a distance, and in a most
unexpected dilemma. Help me out of it, and I
can assure you you shall profit. A great lord,
finding that I am in the town, has sent me a
message. You must know that he is under
heavy obligations to me, and has sworn that on
the day I am married he will give me a
thousand crowns as a wedding gift. Now, I am
not married at all; but if he arrives and can
be made to believe I have a wife, he will
immediately redeem his word. My plan is
simply this: I shall entertain him well at your
inn, and, if you have a daughter—or even a
decent-looking serving-maid—who will sit at
the head of the table during dinner and act as
though she were mistress of the house, I will
divide the sum with you the moment I receive
it. Should he go back from his word, there
will be no harm done, and I will pay you
liberally for your hospitality. I will give the
girl a new gown, too, as a remembrance of her
assistance.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, the landlord was the first rogue in the
kingdom, and the scheme so pleased him that
he nearly died of laughter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are a sharp one!” he exclaimed.
“Why, I have a daughter clever enough to
act any part in the world, and she shall do her
best, you may be sure. Come, I will get ready
a good dinner and take down the signboard,
so that the place shall appear as a private
house.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>By the time he had done this and acquainted
the girl with the plan, a loud thumping was
heard at the door, and the third brother stood
outside.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, the landlord’s girl was goddaughter to
a witch, and very beautiful; she had also
learned some useful things from her godmother,
who had brought her up till she was sixteen
and obliged to return and help her father with
his inn. So, when the plot was explained, she
said: “I hope no harm will come of it,” and
before getting ready to preside at the table, she
took a good look at the two men.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“They have rascals’ faces,” she said to herself.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She then ran to a top window, and looked
out to see what sort of a person the great lord
who was coming to dinner might be.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It chanced that, as she leaned out, the third
brother glanced up.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If that is my brother’s wife,” said he, “she
is indeed a beauty!” And he sighed, wishing
that such luck had come his way.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the girl saw his face, she thought:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That is no great lord, but he is a handsome
fellow, for all that. I will see, at least, that he
gets the best of everything in the house.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So when the table was spread, and before
the three brothers came into the dining-room,
the girl said to the magpie that hung in a cage
behind the window-curtain:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Take notice of every word that is said
to-night, and repeat it to me, or I will wring
your neck!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The magpie promised, and she went forward
to receive the guest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Here,” said the second brother, “is madam,
my wife.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>With that the youngest brother kissed his
sister-in-law heartily.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I knew he was no fool,” said the girl to
herself.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As dinner progressed she made herself so
pleasant that the room rang with joy and
merriment, and she pressed all the most delicate
dishes on the youngest brother; nor did she
fail to notice that whenever he addressed either
of his companions as ‘brother,’ which he did
frequently, the two exchanged covert glances
of annoyance.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“All is not right here,” she exclaimed under
her breath, “for, were he the great lord they
say, there are no two men alive who would
more willingly call him a relation!” And she
smiled rather slyly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Why do you smile, wife?” asked the second
brother.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“My love,” replied she, “at finding so great
a personage a member of your family.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>No one knew what to say, for the youngest
brother feared she was laughing at them all,
and the two elder were sure of it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>However, time flew, the wine sparkled, the
hot roast dishes smoked, and it was hard
to say which of the four was in the best
humour.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the feast was done the girl got up,
and, taking a silver candlestick from the table,
said:</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Husband, I see that our guest is weary
with travelling and his eyes heavy with sleep.
I myself will show him the guest-chamber, and
assure myself that the servants have made his
bed well.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So saying, she led the youngest brother to
the room prepared for him, walking before him
with the lights. As he went he could not cease
admiring the fine plaits of dark hair which hung
down her back and regretting that the evening
was over and he would be so soon deprived of
her company.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they got to the bedchamber, she made
every pretext to remain away from the dining-room
as long as possible, smoothing the pillows
and drawing the window-curtains close, that the
starlight might not disturb his sleep. When
she had bidden him good-night, she went downstairs
as slowly as she could.</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill001.jpg' alt='Woman listens to bird.' id='img01' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“THEN THE BIRD TOLD HER THE WHOLE PLOT.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>“I had no notion it was so late!” she exclaimed
as she entered. “Now that my part is
done, I may tell you two gentlemen that the
longer you sit here burning our oil and occupying
our best room, the more you will be charged
for it. Now, tell me if you are satisfied with
my performance, and then take my advice and
go to bed for the sake of your pockets. There
is a good room ready for you upstairs.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The brothers congratulated her on the way
she had played her part, and went off. Nothing
could have suited them better, for they meant
to slip out of the house and be gone long before
dawn broke.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the girl had showed them the way, she
ran downstairs to the magpie’s cage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Quick, quick!” she cried, “tell me everything
those knaves said to each other while I
was taking the stranger to the guest-chamber.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, mistress,” exclaimed he, “we have
indeed dined in evil company!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You have not dined at all,” she said, “and
never shall if I hear not every word of their
talk.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the bird told her the whole plot, for the
brothers had discussed it openly in her absence.
“Besides all this,” he concluded, “they mean
to run away in the night and leave the young
man to pay the reckoning.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this the girl ran straight upstairs and
locked the two brothers in; she took off her
shoes and turned the key so softly that they
heard nothing. Afterwards she slipped out into
the yard, and, taking a harrow which lay in the
outhouse, drew it under their window and
turned it with the spikes uppermost, to deter
them from jumping out. She then knocked at
the door of the guest-chamber.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come out!” she cried through the keyhole;
“there is knavery afoot!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the youngest brother opened the door
she told him all, and when he had hurried on a
few clothes he came down to the dining-room to
hear what the magpie had discovered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I shall be out of this as quick as I can,” he
remarked when the bird had finished. “My
only grief is that I shall never see you again.
I am really very glad you are not my brother’s
wife, for I had much rather you were mine.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“So had I,” said the girl.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So they determined to depart together.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are never going to leave me behind!”
exclaimed the magpie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, come along,” said the young
man, opening the cage door. “When you are
tired of flying you can have a lift on my
shoulder; I am not going to let my wife trouble
herself with your cage.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am not your wife yet,” said the girl,
tossing her head.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That’s easily mended,” replied the youngest
brother.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So they crept softly out of the inn and took
the road long before the sky showed signs of
morning. But at last the east grew grey in the
darkness and bars of rose-colour hung over the
sea of primrose and gold from which the sun
was about to rise. They sat down beside a
stream to rest, for they had come a good long
distance.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Fly into the nearest tree,” said the youngest
brother to the magpie, “and wait till the risen
sun shows you the nearest steeple. Where there
is a church there will be a priest, so, when you
have directed us to it, you can go there yourself
and rouse him. We will follow and wait in
the church porch till you bring him to marry
us.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>As soon as it was fully light the bird obeyed,
and having lit on a church steeple, he called to
a man in the road below to direct him to the
priest’s house.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The priest was just getting out of bed, but he
ordered the magpie to be admitted. When he
had heard his request he promised to set out
with his prayer-book as soon as he had eaten
his breakfast, and the bird, after thanking him
courteously, flew off again to the church. “I
forgot to ask who you are,” called the priest
after him, with his mouth full.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am a near relation of the bride’s,” said
the magpie as he sailed away.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By the time the engaged couple reached the
porch they found the holy man awaiting them,
and were immediately married. The magpie
gave the bride away and offered some advice
upon the married state, for he was a widower
and knew what he was talking about. “Now
go,” he said, “and I will return to the steeple,
where I shall find snug enough quarters. Three
is an ill number for a honeymoon.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the husband and wife went to the village
and found a suitable lodging; they meant to
stay there for the next few days, till they should
decide where they should live.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As the sun set that evening the magpie sat
on the steeple meditating on life. The bright
glow struck through the ivy-leaves, and he was
much astonished at seeing something glittering
so brightly in the light that he was almost
dazzled. The shine came from behind a great
tangle of foliage which clothed the tower. He
hopped down and thrust his beak in among the
ivy. There, in a hole scooped carefully among
the stones, was a heap of jewels such as he had
never seen in all his days. There were ropes
of pearls, chains of diamonds and rubies, and
emeralds in heaps. It was with difficulty that
he could resist screaming aloud, so great was
his astonishment, and he was all the more
shocked when he reflected that this cunningly-made
storehouse of wealth must be the handiwork
of robbers.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I fear that the world is a terribly wicked
place,” he observed; “I must look into this.
I will remain here till night and see what
roguery is going on.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So when night was come he concealed himself
with great caution in a niche. When
midnight had struck and the moon—now at
her full—blackened the shadows, he heard a
rustling below and saw the head of a man
appearing above the belfry stair. He was a
wicked-looking ruffian and was followed by
another who held something hidden under his
cloak. The magpie poked his head round the
corner of his niche. The two thieves went
straight to the hole behind the ivy, and, having
looked in at their stolen wealth, sat down on
the church roof.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And now,” said the one who had come up
first, “what is this great treasure that you have
taken?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You may well ask,” replied the other, “for
it is no less than the King of Growgland’s
crown. Here—you may try it on if you like.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he pulled out a bundle wrapped in cloth.
His companion snatched it, and, when he had
untied the knots, there came out such a blaze
in the moonlight that the magpie was almost
blinded.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The crown glowed and shone. It had spikes
of gold with knobs of rubies on the top, and
pearls as big as marrowfat peas were studded
round the circlet. In front was a fan-shaped
ornament half a foot high and one mass of
emeralds and diamonds. The thief set it on his
own knavish head and turned round and round
that his friend might admire his appearance.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“There now, stop that,” said the other at
last; “I have had enough of your masquerading.
Not even a crown can make you like a
gentleman.” And he whipped it off and thrust
it into the hole. Then he drew the ivy across
it, and, after a few more rough words, the
robbers disappeared as they had come.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When morning dawned the magpie flew to
the house where the youngest brother was
lodging with his bride. He pecked the window
with his beak and cried to the young man,
“Here is great news! Follow my advice, and
you will find your fortune made. Now tell
your wife to go to the town and buy a piece of
fine silk to make a bag. While she is doing
this you must procure a hammer, a piece of
pointed iron and a yard of string; you can get
a pickaxe and shovel from the shed where the
sexton keeps his tools. All these you must
hide in a bush which I shall show you in the
churchyard. Ask no questions; and, when
evening falls, meet me with the bag and all
these things behind the church.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So saying, he flew away.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, the girl knew very well that the magpie
was no ordinary bird, and she obeyed him
carefully; she rose and went into the town and
bought a piece of red silk. Having made the
bag, she gave it to her husband, and, at the
time appointed, he met the magpie behind the
church with all the implements he had got
together.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The bird directed him to leave the pickaxe
and shovel in the porch, and they went up to
the roof by the belfry stair. When the youngest
brother saw the treasure he was speechless, but
the magpie gave him no time to examine the
jewels.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Listen to me,” he said, “and we are rich
for ever. (I say ‘we’ because I feel you will
not forget my poor services.) Do you see an
iron bar that sticks out into space on the side
of that flying buttress? It is placed there to
hold a swinging lamp, and there are five steps
by which the sexton approaches it to hang up
the light. As you see, they also stand out into
space. Tie this piece of string round my leg,
and, when I have flown up and alighted on the
iron bar, twist the other end round it, so that I
may seem to be fastened to it as to a perch;
but do not knot it, or make it really secure.
To do this you must reach the bar by these
steps.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the young man heard this, his flesh
crept, for he was not accustomed to high places
and, the steps being on the outer wall, the least
giddiness might plunge him headlong into the
churchyard, fifty feet below; but, being a manful
fellow, he climbed up and twisted the string so
neatly round the bar that no one could have
supposed the magpie to be anything but a
prisoner.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Now,” said the bird, “take your hammer
and the piece of iron and loosen the three top
steps till they will not bear more than a child’s
weight.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the youngest brother had done this,
the magpie told him to hide himself in a ditch
in the churchyard, and not to come out till he
was called by name.</p>
<p class='pindent'>After midnight the robbers came to look at
their treasures, and did not notice the magpie
sitting on the bar. Indeed, had they done so,
they would have paid little heed, supposing
him to be some ignorant bird who had no
interests beyond his own food. They sat down
on the roof as they had done before, and, taking
out the jewels, began to count them. They
made a large heap and placed the crown on
the top. All at once the magpie flew up in the
air as far as the string would permit, and cried
in a loud and dreadful voice, “<span class='it'>Help! help!
The King of Growgland’s crown is stolen!</span>”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this the thieves were so much horrified
that they dropped their booty, and ran wildly
to and fro on the roof searching for some
hidden person, and, when they came close to
the place where the iron bar was, the magpie
flew up again, crying the same words more
terribly than before.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We’ll soon choke his noise,” exclaimed the
robbers; and with one accord they began to
climb the steps. But the youngest brother had
done his work well: the stones were loose, and
in another moment they had fallen headlong
through the air, and were lying with their necks
broken in the churchyard.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The magpie then called his friend, who
brought the pickaxe and shovel, and when they
had buried the two robbers they went up again
to the roof, and put the King of Growgland’s
crown into the red silk bag.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We know who this belongs to, and we will
certainly restore it,” said the magpie; “the
rest we will keep as some slight remuneration
for our trouble.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>There were enough jewels to make fifty
people rich for life. It <span class='it'>was</span> a haul! The
youngest brother praised the magpie, and,
taking off his shirt, knotted the tails together
and filled it up to the neck with precious stones.
It was almost light before he got back to his
wife and showed her what the magpie’s good
sense had accomplished.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In a few days the magpie set out for the
kingdom of Growgland, scarcely more than a
hundred miles away, and demanded to see the
King. He found the whole city in a ferment
and everyone distracted. The King had grown
quite thin, and the head of the police had been
sent to prison for being unable to find the
thieves.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If your Majesty will start the day after
to-morrow,” said the magpie, “and go a day’s
journey from the city, you will meet a young
man and a girl on horseback carrying a red
silk bag. Your Majesty may wring my neck
if it does not contain the crown of Growgland.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this everyone was electrified, and the
King, with a great retinue, started and encamped
a day’s march off, that the crown of Growgland
might be received with all due ceremony. As
evening came on the magpie grew a little
nervous, for the King had placed a guard over
him to do him honour (at least, that was what
he said); but the bird knew very well that it
was done so that he should not escape if the
crown failed to appear. But at last he saw his
friends approaching. Being now rich, they
rode fine horses and were dressed as befitted
great personages. The King sat on the royal
throne (which was a folding one, and so had
been brought with him), and the youngest
brother, having related his story, gave the red
silk bag into his hands. Before parting with
him His Majesty presented him with a sum of
money that, even had he not been rolling in
wealth already, would have made him independent
for life.</p>
<p class='pindent'>After this, the magpie and his friends set out
for the town in which they had left the two
elder brothers and a few days later dismounted
before the inn. The harrow was still in its
place, prongs uppermost, and at the window,
far above it, two forlorn-looking faces were to
be seen.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The landlord came out, transported with
surprise at the fine appearance of his daughter
and the youngest brother.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“There,” he said, pointing to the upper
window, “are the two knaves who have
deceived me, and whom I have kept locked
up ever since you left.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this the imprisoned pair perceived who it
was that had arrived.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Here,” they shouted, “here is the great
lord come to pay our debts! Did we not assure
you that he would come?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And they rained abuse upon the landlord.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Let them out and I will make it good to
you,” said the youngest brother.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the two miscreants were freed, and a
sorry sight they were; for, as the price of
each day of their detainment the landlord had
demanded a garment, and their clothes were
almost at an end. One had only a shirt left;
and the other one garter and a piece of an old
tablecloth in which he had wrapped himself
for decency. The inn servants shouted with
laughter as they came running out. The
youngest brother and his wife laughed too;
and as for the magpie, he was so delighted that
he nearly choked, and had to be restored with
strong waters.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I still prefer my experience to your money,”
remarked the youngest brother to his relations.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap03'>THE STORY OF MASTER BOGEY</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>“This time it will have to be a tale I remember
hearing grandmother tell,” said the miller one
evening, “for I’ve left my book in the town.
The cover was so battered that it had to be
mended.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>They were sitting on the steps of the mill.
Every week now, and sometimes twice between
Sunday and Sunday, they spent a delightful
time with their friend. Little Peter thought
he was the finest man in the world; and Janet,
though she said little, was quite sure there was
no one like him. And, indeed, they were not
far wrong, for he was the most splendid miller
that anybody ever saw; he was like a big boy
at heart, though he was a grown-up man with
a mill of his own and a horse and cart in the
stable.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was once a square house (he began)
that stood in a garden. Outside the garden
were great trees which had been there for more
than a hundred years, and when the wind blew
high and the gales raged in the autumn, they
swayed about and creaked so that anyone might
think they must fall and crush everything near
them; but they never did. Up in the top story
of the house was a row of windows belonging
to the rooms where the children lived, and, as
the blinds were often left up, you might see the
lights inside and the shadows of the nurse and
the little girls moving about.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, high up in the highest tree visible from
the nursery lived a family of Bogeys. They
were very nice people. There was Father
Bogey and Madam Bogey and young Master
Bogey, their son.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The children had no idea that they lived
there, for they never showed themselves, but
lurked hidden in the dark shadows of the
boughs. When the wind blew they swayed
hither and thither with the branches, and when
the nursery blinds were up and the firelight
shone behind them, Master Bogey, who was
inquisitive, would sit staring and trying to make
out what was going on in the room.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How I should love to get in and see what
it is like!” he would say to his parents.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And Madam Bogey would answer: “Nonsense!
Your father and I have lived here for
ages, and have never tried to get in. We know
very well what is our business and what is
not. You can see the little girls every morning
as they come down the avenue with their
nurse, and you know that their names are
Josephine, Julia and Jane. What more can
you want?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And Master Bogey would say no more. But
that did not prevent him from being as inquisitive
as ever.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Every day as the little girls came out for their
walk he would peer down on them, unseen.
Each had her doll in her arms, and the two
elder ones would talk to theirs and carry them
as carefully as though they were babies. But
Jane was always scolding hers; once, even,
she threw the poor thing roughly on the
ground. She did not suspect for a moment
that Master Bogey was looking down at her,
horrified.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last, one night in winter, his curiosity
grew more than he could bear; for he had not
heard the front door bolted nor the key turned,
and he knew that he might never have such a
chance of getting into the house again. The
snow lay deep, and his parents were snoring in
the fork of the branches in which the family
spent the winter months. Overhead, the stars
were clear and trembling in the frost and the
nursery firelight shone red through the curtains.
He slid down, ran across the white ground and
up the front-door steps. Yes, the handle went
round in his grasp, and in another moment he
was standing in the hall.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was easy to see that the servants had been
careless that night; not only was the door
unlocked, but the lamps were left burning too.
As Master Bogey paused at the foot of the
wooden staircase, it was all he could do not to
turn and run, for the wall beside it was hung
with family portraits of fierce gentlemen and
bedizened ladies who stared at him dreadfully.
But he was a sensible fellow, and, as most of
them were half-length pictures, he decided that
people who had no legs couldn’t run after him.
He ventured to touch one, and, finding it wasn’t
a living thing at all, he grew as bold as brass
and began to look about him. Christmas was
not long over; the yew and the holly were
still wreathed above the frames, making him
wonder how these little pieces of trees could
have got inside the house. There were swords
and spears and old fire-arms too, whose use he
could not understand. Up he went softly,
nearly jumping out of his skin when a step
creaked under his foot, and he found himself at
last on the nursery threshold. The door was
ajar and the firelight bright in the empty room,
so in he went.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But suddenly he gave a most terrible start,
for the room was not empty at all; three dolls
were sitting on three chairs, watching him
intently, and two of them were looking very
severe.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“May I ask, sir, who you are?” demanded
the one nearest to the hearth.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Master Bogey was speechless. He turned
to run away.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Stop, sir!” cried the doll again, “and be
good enough to answer me, or I will alarm the
house. Who are you? I insist upon knowing.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am Master Bogey,” he stammered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“La! what a name!” exclaimed the doll upon
the next chair. And she held up her fine satin
muff and giggled behind it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and what a shock of hair!” said the
other. She held up her muff and giggled
too.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Poor Master Bogey was ready to cry.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The two dolls who had spoken were almost
exactly alike: they had round pink faces and
round blue eyes; on either side of their cheeks
hung beautiful golden curls—no wonder they
laughed at the black mop on his dusky head.
They really were the most elegant ladies. They
wore frilled silk pelisses, with handsome ruffles
at the neck; large silk hats, tied under their chins
with bows, and enormous sashes. On their feet
were openwork socks and bronze shoes with
rosettes; their muffs we know all about. The
only difference between them was that one was
dressed in blue and the other in pink. Their
mouths were like rosy buttons; to look at them,
who could guess that such rude words had ever
come out of them? (My grandmother always
used to make that remark, for she had a good
bringing-up and knew manners.)</p>
<p class='pindent'>The third doll was not nearly so fine as her
companions. To begin with, she had no muff,
and her sash was tied round her waist, and not
halfway down her skirt, which showed at once
she was out of the fashions in the doll world.
Her frock was plain and torn and she had lost
one shoe; all the same, she had a dear little
face. When she saw poor Master Bogey’s
downcast looks, she got off her chair and went
to him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Don’t mind what they say,” she said.
“They have just got new dresses and it makes
them proud. They mean no harm. Your hair
is very nice, and it is a great blessing to have
so much.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>You may fancy how grateful Master Bogey
was!</p>
<p class='pindent'>She held out her hand, and he took it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come,” she said, “let us go and sit at the
other end of the room. You are a stranger,
and I have heard nurse say that one should
always be polite to strangers.”</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill002.jpg' alt='Little girl clasps boy's hand' id='img02' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“SHE HELD OUT HER HAND, AND HE TOOK IT.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>So they went, and the ladies in blue and
pink cried out “Pooh!” very loud and both at
the same time.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Take no notice,” whispered the doll.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was not long before she persuaded Master
Bogey to confess his curiosity about the house
and the people in it, and he began to enjoy
himself immensely. He heard all about the
pictures that had astonished him so much, and
how the holly and yew branches had managed
to get on to the frames, and about the Christmas
party which was just over. He saw the
rocking-horse, and even had a ride on it; the
cupboard where nurse kept the jams for tea,
and the door which led to the attics overhead.
But the most delightful part of all was when he
led his companion to the window and showed
her the tree in which he lived standing black in
the whiteness and the starlight.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You can’t see my parents, for they are
asleep,” he remarked; “but I <span class='it'>think</span> that round
sort of bump where the branches fork is the
back of my mother’s head. I wish you could
see all of it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Does she know where you are?” asked the
doll.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, no,” replied he, “she doesn’t; she
had gone to bed when I left, and I really
couldn’t wake her. But I’ll tell her everything
in the morning, and all about you, and how
charming you are.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid she’ll punish you,” said the doll,
sighing. “I only hope she won’t throw you
out of the tree.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Gracious!” cried Master Bogey, “what an
idea! Why, my mother is the best mother in
the world! I know what put that into your
head, all the same. I saw one of the little girls
throw her doll on the ground once, when I was
looking down from the branches. It wasn’t
you, I trust?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Indeed it was,” said she; “that was Miss
Jane, and I am her doll. I am very unhappy,
for she is dreadfully cruel to me. Sometimes
she bangs me on the floor and puts me in the
corner for hours. And look at my clothes! The
others are lucky—they belong to Josephine and
Julia. They have each got a new dress, but
this ragged one is all I have, and only one
shoe.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The tears ran down her face, poor little
thing!</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Show me Miss Jane, and I will go and kill
her!” cried Master Bogey, in a rage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh no, no!” begged the doll. “If you did
that, I might be thrown away. No one would
care to keep a shabby thing like me. I might
be flung into the ashpit.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I would soon go and fetch you if you were,”
said Master Bogey gallantly. “But show me
Jane; if I could even shake my fist at her I
should be happier.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Will you promise not to do any harm if
I take you to the night-nursery?” said she.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He promised, and they went, hand in hand,
down the long passage to the room where
Josephine, Julia and Jane slept.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They went in on tiptoe. The sisters were
sleeping in a row in their little white beds with
frilled curtains; they really looked very pretty
with their hair lying spread upon the pillows.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That is Josephine,” said the doll, pointing
to the eldest, “and the next is Julia, and the
one nearest the door is Jane, my mistress.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Josephine and Julia were smiling in their
sleep, but as they looked, Jane turned over and
tossed, grinding her teeth.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid she is having a bad dream,”
explained the doll.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Serve her right! I wish she could have
two at once!” said Master Bogey.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last he thought it was time for him to be
getting home, and the doll said she would go
down with him to the hall. He was very sad,
for he did not know when he should see her
again; and she was sad, too.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The very first time they leave the door
open I will come back,” said he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I hope it will be soon!” she said.
“Whenever Jane is bad to me I will think
about you, and every night I will look out and
try to see you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And I will look for you,” replied Master
Bogey, as he slipped out of the front door.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Next morning he told Madam Bogey all
that he had done, and, though she read him
a long lecture on curiosity, she could not help
being interested.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“A good whipping is what Jane wants,” she
remarked, “and if I were her nurse she should
get it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Every night the doll and Master Bogey
looked across the snowy space to try and get
a glimpse of each other, but, though he could
see her against the firelight through the windows,
she could not see him where he sat in the dim
tangle of branches. Madam Bogey watched
too, but she was short-sighted and soon gave it
up, though her good heart ached to think of the
poor little creature and all she had to endure.
She and Master Bogey talked about it a great
deal.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One night, as he looked from his tree towards
the nursery, he saw Miss Jane, with one of her
sisters, standing by the window-sill. He knew
it was Jane, because she was the only one of
the little girls who had a pigtail; he could see
its outline as it hung behind her head, with a
bow sticking out, like a fat insect, at the end
of it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Each had put her doll to stand on the
window-sill, inside the pane. He couldn’t tell
whether it was the blue or the pink lady who
was there, but he saw the shadow of a smart
hat. He hoped very much that his friend was
looking out for him, and he waved his hand.
All at once she slipped on the sill and fell out
of sight! He saw Jane stoop down, her pigtail
sticking out farther than ever as she did so,
and drag her up by the arm, shaking her—oh,
so cruelly! She began to slap her, first on this
side, then on that; he almost fancied he could
hear her crying. Again and again she struck
her, and Master Bogey shouted and threw up
his arms in despair. Oh, how hard it was that
he could not reach her!</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Mother!” he cried. “Oh, mother! Look!
look!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Up came Madam Bogey, hurrying to see
what was the matter with her son. When she
saw how dreadfully the poor doll was being
treated, she was almost as angry as he was;
and after Jane and her sister had disappeared
from the window with their dolls, she still sat
talking to him. It was quite late when he
went to bed at last, and she stayed beside him
and held his hand. He cried himself to sleep
with rage and pity.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, Father Bogey had been away for some
time on business, and when he returned next
day his wife and he had such a long consultation
that Master Bogey thought it would never
be done. They sent him to a different tree
while it was going on. He sat there rather
crossly, looking at them as they nodded and
shook their heads and nodded again. He
knew it was all about something very interesting.
When they called him back he was quite
pettish.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Sit down, boy,” his father began, very
solemnly, “and try to look more intelligent.
When I was your age I was setting up house.
As you are an only child I have tried not to
spoil you, and I may say that, on the whole,
you have been a good son; but now it is time
you were settled. I hear from your mother
that you have made the acquaintance of a
young lady in the house opposite. From what
you have told your mother of her manners, she
must be of a good disposition and naturally
refined. If you have any mind to marry her
she shall have a hearty and fatherly welcome,
and your mother and I will give up the whole
of the top branches to you. You had better
think it over.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Master Bogey did not take long to do that.
He clapped his hands with joy when he
thought that he might see his dear doll again,
and never part from her any more, for he knew
that she would be thankful to escape from cruel
Jane and the rude ladies in blue and pink.
The only difficulty was, how was he to get at
her?</p>
<p class='pindent'>Evidently the servants had been blamed for
their carelessness. Since his adventure the
front door had been locked and the windows
bolted as soon as it grew dark. He ran round
the house every night, looking eagerly for some
chink or crack large enough for him to squeeze
himself in through; but there was nothing big
enough, for he was a well-grown lad, and as tall
as his father.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last a bold plan came into his mind. He
decided to get in in broad daylight, hiding in
some empty room till everyone had gone to
bed and then making his way to the nursery.
As soon as he could persuade his love to elope
with him, they would steal downstairs, unlock
the front door, and let themselves out. When
he told Madam Bogey of this plan she was in
a dreadful state, and said it was much too
dangerous; but he was determined. It is
terrible to think what love will do!</p>
<p class='pindent'>So one afternoon he began to make his way
to the house by short stages. From tree to
tree he dodged, and just before dusk he had
reached a small yew growing in a shrubbery
near the front-door steps without being seen by
anyone. He heard the great bell clang which
called servants and stablemen to tea; and when
he thought they were all safe in the servants’
hall, he flew up the steps like a lamplighter,
and in at the door. Opposite to it was a large
drawing-room, which the doll had told him was
never used in winter, and in he went. There
was a sofa there, with a long chintz cover
touching the floor; and he crawled under this,
and lay down as still as a mouse. How his
heart beat when a maid came to draw the
curtains! How he longed to catch her by
the ankle and make her scream! But he did
nothing so silly; he only lay and longed for
the night, when he might get upstairs.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was so still that his own footsteps made
him jump. It was quite dark, too, as the lamps
were out, and he could only feel his way; but
he got safely to the top of the nursery stair,
and began tiptoeing up the passage. A chink
of light under the day-nursery door showed him
the fire was still in.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One thing is certain, and that is that luck
favours brave people. Master Bogey went in,
and the first thing he saw was his dear doll at
the window, looking out, no doubt, for a glimpse
of himself in the tree. The pink lady and the
blue lady were asleep in their chairs by the
hearth, their eyes shut, their muffs in their laps
and their hats tied firmly under their chins.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The poor doll ran to him and put her arms
round his neck. She looked very woebegone
and her clothes were more tattered than ever.
She had no shoes at all now.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’ve come to take you away,” said Master
Bogey. “You must come back to my tree and
we will be married at once, and then I can see
you every day for the rest of my life.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Do you <span class='it'>really</span> mean it?” asked the doll.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes!” cried he. “Come at once, this
very moment, before anyone catches us. My
father and mother are waiting for you, and we
are to have the top branches to live in.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The poor little thing could hardly believe her
ears. She liked Master Bogey better than anyone
she had ever seen, and now she was going
away from cruel Jane, and the blue and pink
ladies, who sneered at everything. She held his
hand tight and they went stealing out. She
was so happy she did not know what to do.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They felt their way along safely till they got
almost to the hall, and then, alas! alas! Master
Bogey missed his footing on the last flight of
stairs and rolled from the top to the bottom.
Bump, bump, he went, and landed in a heap on
the mat. He had just time to pick himself
up before a door opened and the mother of
Josephine, Julia and Jane came out of her bedroom
with a candle in her hand. She could not
see into the hall, but she began to come downstairs.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Master Bogey and the doll went straight to a
corner where rows of coats hung from pegs, and
got behind the thickest fur cloak they could find.
He took her up in his arms, so that her little
white feet should not show underneath it; his
own black ones he kept quite still. In the
light of the candle they only seemed like dark
shadows.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The lady held up her light and looked round.
She was much prettier than any of her
daughters, and though her hair was now in a
pigtail like Jane’s, it really suited her. She
peeped under tables and behind chests, and
then she came to the row of cloaks and began
prodding them to see if anyone was hidden
behind them. It was an awful moment.</p>
<p class='pindent'>What saved them was the fact that Bogeys are
seldom very tall; though young Master Bogey
was such a fine-grown lad, he was scarcely three
feet high. Jane’s mother prodded the cloak just
above his head and passed on without feeling
anything. Just then a man’s face looked over
the banisters above.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What are you doing there?” cried Josephine,
Julia and Jane’s father.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I thought I heard a noise,” said the lady,
“so I came to look.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense!” he exclaimed, “you are always
imagining burglars. Go back to bed, and don’t
be such a goose.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When she had gone, Master Bogey and his
love came out of their hiding-place. It took but a
moment to unlock the door and draw the bolts.
They shut it softly after them and ran down the
steps and out into the shadows, where Father
Bogey and Madam were waiting to embrace
their daughter-in-law.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then they all went up into the tree, where,
as I have heard, they lived happily together
ever after.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap04'>THE TREE OF PRIDE</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>“To-day it’s the book’s turn,” said the miller to
his friends as the light was fading one evening.
“Last time we heard about Bogeys and people
of that sort, but to-day we’ll have a Princess, and
King’s Courts and fine company.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I like hearing about grand ladies,” observed
Janet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I like them well enough, too,” replied
he; “that is, if they’re as good and as beautiful
as some lasses I have seen.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>He looked rather hard at Janet, and she
blushed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, never mind talking!” broke in little
Peter, pulling the miller’s sleeve. “It’s the
story I want. If you don’t begin quick the
light will be gone; the rooks are coming home
already, and soon we shall have to go in to
supper.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t do that, for you shall come to
supper with me in the mill,” said the miller.
“How would you like that?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We daren’t,” said Janet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go and make it right with your grandmother
myself,” he replied. “She’ll be glad
enough, maybe, for there’ll be all the more left in
the larder to-morrow. Sit still till I come back.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he jumped over the wall. They watched
him pass the pool and disappear into the white
cottage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how delightful!” shouted little Peter,
turning head over heels.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In a few minutes the miller returned. The
old woman had promised everything he wanted.
It is a funny thing how often young men can
manage witches. They all went into the mill.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“So now to business,” said he, as he sat down
and took up his book.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='pindent'>In a kingdom far from this everyday earth
a great city sat royally in its surrounding plain.
It had domes and towers, temples and fortresses,
and in it lived a Princess whose goodness and
beauty were known for miles round. The plain
was vast and fertile, but here and there patches
of wilderness lay like islands among the crops;
and a winding stream wandered, now through
their richness, now through tangled briars and
unfrequented tracks.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By one of these it made a loop, encircling a
spot where the turf was cleared of undergrowth
and a great tree thrust its gnarled roots through
the grass. The few who passed this place
looked upon it with no little awe, for the tree
was inhabited, and even on a calm day its
boughs might be seen rocking to and fro, as
though moved by some unruly breeze. Its
leaves were large and glossy, its limbs spreading
like the limbs of an oak, and in spring it bore
white, waxy flowers, heavily scented and shaped
like open tulips; in the heart of each was a
cluster of stiff golden stamens.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The upper branches were haunted by an old
man whose long robe gave him the appearance
of a wizard. Though he had lurked in the tree
for generations, time had not robbed him of his
activity, for he would swing himself to earth
every morning to drink of the stream, and, in
summer, to wash the dust from the leaves and
blossoms, which he tended as carefully as a
gardener might his plants. The dwellers in the
city knew nothing of his existence; but the
dwellers in the fields near the tree had sometimes
seen him descend from it to the earth,
and remembered having heard in their childhood
that it was called the “Tree of Pride.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>One autumn day all the city was making
holiday, for the Princess had been betrothed to
a King from a far country and was starting with
a great following to meet him ten leagues from
its walls. Her father accompanied her, and she
rode on a white horse shod with silver; she
was so beautiful and charming that there was
not a man in the whole retinue who did not
envy the unknown King. Her brown hair,
looped up behind her head, fell almost to the
stirrup, and she wore a coif woven of burning
gold. Her cloak was embroidered with rose
and purple and patterns of stars, and its gold
fringes swung as she rode. Her eyes were like
the still, moon-haunted pools of a moorland.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It chanced that the procession had been
delayed in leaving the city, so that by sunset
the place where it was to encamp was yet many
miles off. The Princess was tired, and a man-at-arms
was sent out to look for some spot
where the tents might be pitched and water
found for the horses. He soon came back to
say that within a mile was a stretch of grass
surrounding a large tree and watered by a
stream. In a short time they reached it, and
encamped for the night.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Next morning, when they had risen betimes
to continue their way, the Princess caught
sight of the tree, which was a dream of beauty;
for autumn was at its full, and the fruit was
heavy where the flowers had been. As she
stood to admire it, a rustling was heard in the
branches, and an old man descended, swinging
himself from bough to bough and holding a
piece of fruit, round and ripe; he leaned down
and offered it to her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When she had accepted the gift, the Princess
mounted, and the whole company returned to
the beaten track and went forward on their
road. The sun grew hot, and as noonday
came on she ate the fruit, thinking that she had
never tasted anything so delicious.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They rode by brook and meadow, by hill and
wood, and soon everyone began to wonder at
the change which had come over the Princess.
Those whom she had looked upon as friends
all her life were now commanded to rein back,
that they might not offend her dignity by their
presence. She would scarce answer her father
when he spoke, and, whereas in the early part
of her journey she had taken pleasure in the
beauty of the landscape, she now blamed the
road as unfit for her horse’s feet to tread.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Not content with dragging me out to meet
this sorry fellow,” she said, “you must needs
bring me by ways only fit for peasants.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Her father and his people looked aghast.
Never before had they heard her speak in such
a manner.</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill003.jpg' alt='Woman rides horse next to horse-riding man.' id='img03' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“SHE WOULD SCARCE ANSWER HER FATHER WHEN HE SPOKE.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>When the shadows were long they halted
again, and soon they could distinguish a company
of horsemen between them and the hills.
The Princess withdrew to her tent, for she knew
that the distant spearmen must be the unknown
King’s following, and that in a short time she
would be summoned to receive him. She
called her maids, and when they had dressed
her in her state robes, she took a knife and
made a slit in the curtains that she might see
the King’s arrival without being seen. As she
stood watching the little band advancing, she
was surprised to hear her father’s voice almost
beside the tent. She ran towards the place, and,
cutting another slit, looked through and saw
him in conversation with a man-at-arms, who
had just dismounted from the steaming horse
he held.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He was dressed from head to heel in russet
leather, and a steel helmet, with spreading steel
wings, was on his head. He was tall and brown,
and his white teeth gleamed as he smiled. “Sire,”
he was saying, “I beg you to forgive this unceremonious
coming. When I saw your tents
on the plain and knew that the Princess was so
near, I could contain myself no longer and
galloped forward with all speed. I will not
dare to enter her presence till my people have
arrived, and I have cast off the dust of the road.
But wait I could not. I hope your Majesty will
forgive me.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so this rash, leather-clad soldier was the
King—this careless, dusty fellow who was
loosening his horse’s girths as any common
groom might do! Did he think to thrust himself
thus, without ceremony, into the following
of a royal Princess?</p>
<p class='pindent'>Behind her curtains she turned away, biting
her lips, and she was still frowning when her
father entered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Daughter,” said he, “the King is here and
I have spoken with him.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And what is he like?” inquired she, her
voice cold with scorn.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He is the most gallant-looking gentleman
that ever I saw,” said the old man.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess turned her back.</p>
<p class='pindent'>An hour later father and daughter waited to
receive their guest in a long tent hung with fine
stuffs and wreathed in garlands. The whole of
their retinue stood around, and, at the far end,
the Princess sat on a carved chair, her eyes on
the ground and her face as pale as ivory, never
looking at the opposite door, by which her
suitor was to enter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last the hangings were drawn wide and
he came in. He still wore his russet brown,
but it was now of silver-studded velvet which
clung to him like a glove, and as he went forward
a murmur of admiration ran through the
crowd; for he walked like some kingly animal,
and his eyes sparkled under his dark brows.
“Here is a King indeed,” whispered the bystanders.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess scarcely glanced at him. She
curtseyed low as he approached, but when he
would have taken her hand, she drew back, her
lip curling.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Your Majesty does me an honour for which
I have no desire,” she said; “and if I have
brought you to the meeting-place only to refuse
your hand, you will pardon it the more readily
as you yourself like ceremony so little.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So saying, she turned and left everyone
standing speechless.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the company had dispersed, the
Princess declared that she would set out next
morning for the city. There was nothing left
for the King to do but to depart by the way he
had come, and, furious and mortified, he returned
to his own camp to throw off his velvet and
resume his leather and steel; he meant to go at
once. His heart was hot within him, for the
one look he had had at the Princess was enough
to set it in a flame. She was so beautiful that
he had never seen her like, and even through
his anger there was a sharp stab of regret for
what he had lost. Heartless as she seemed,
and ill as she had treated him, he would have
given the world for her. While his men and
horses were getting ready, he went out into
the night, and turned his steps to a little thicket
of birches which stood with their glimmering
stems not far from the camp. The darkness
was moist and chill, and some of the Princess’s
men had lit a fire on the outskirts of the trees,
and were sitting round it. He drew close to
them under cover of the wood, and saw an old
soldier in the centre of the circle who was
talking to his companions. “If I had my will,”
he was saying, “I would fell the tree to the
ground, and the old goblin should die with it.
He should pay for turning the sweetest, most
beautiful lady in the world into such a jade! I
remember her from the time she was no higher
than my sword, and until she tasted that
accursed fruit there was no creature more beloved
in the kingdom—and with reason, too.
And look at her now!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What is all this talk?” asked a new-comer,
as he joined the group in the firelight. “Not
but what Her Highness has given us enough
to talk about for some time to come.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Why, it is just that,” continued the first
speaker; “there’s the matter plain. She has
eaten of the Tree of Pride. I saw it myself.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The Tree of Pride?” cried the others—“whoever
heard of that?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are young men,” the old soldier went
on, “and you were not born, as I was, in a hut
in these fields, where all the tales of the country
round were common talk. My home was in
sight of the Tree of Pride, where we camped
last night, and many’s the time I’ve seen the old
man sitting among the boughs like an evil bird.
Whoever tastes of it, rich or poor, man or woman,
young or old, becomes mad with vanity and
pride. And but yesterday the Princess stood
under the branches, and the old man reached
down and offered her the fruit. She took it,
poor lady, and thanked him, understanding
nothing. I’ve more than a mind to turn aside
and slay him on the way back.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King waited to hear no more; he stole
through the trees and back to his own camp:
he was determined to start at once for the Tree
of Pride. He rode all night, taking only a
couple of men with him, and in the morning
sunlight he saw it raising its heavy head
above the plain. He drew up almost under
the boughs and dismounted. There, peering
down on him, was the wizened face of the old
man, smiling elusively as he plucked a cluster of
fruit and began climbing down to offer it. The
King waited until he had reached the lowest
arm of the tree, and then, instead of taking the
gift, he seized his garment and dragged him to
the ground.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The old man shrieked and struggled, but the
King held him fast, and, throwing him on the
grass, stood over him while his two soldiers
bound him hand and foot.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Look!” cried the King, when they had done
this, “here is my blade, ready to plunge into
your evil body. Because the Princess ate the
fruit you gave her, her whole heart is changed.
You have only one chance of life. I will spare
it if you tell me the remedy that can turn her
into her true self.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“There is no remedy,” he said, fixing his
malicious eyes on the King.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then,” said the young man, “I will prevent
anyone else from sharing the Princess’s fate.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he raised his arm.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Stop!” screamed the other. “I will tell you
everything! Only let me go and I will promise
never to offer the fruit to anyone again.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Lie still,” said the King. “You will tell me
the cure before you move and then I will cut
down the tree. Go to the nearest hut and
borrow an axe,” he added, turning to one of his
men.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No! no!” cried the old man again; “cut it
down and all will be lost! Only unbind my
hands and I vow I will make the mischief right.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You will be loosed when you have spoken,”
replied the King.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Tell your soldiers to go away,” said the
prisoner at last; “for the thing is a secret.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King told his men to raise him, and
when they were alone the old man began.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You will need patience,” said he. “The
winter must come and go before the tree
whitens again, for it is only the blossom that
can cure the poison of the fruit. When spring
comes you must make a crown of the white
flowers and take it as a gift to the Princess.
If you can persuade her to wear it—if only
for a few moments—her heart will change, and
she will once more be the woman she was.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King’s face fell. It was full six months
of waiting and it seemed like an eternity.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Now let me go!” cried the old man again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I will unbind you, as I promised,” said the
King, “but from now till the day we return
together to pluck the flowers I will not lose
sight of you—no, not for an hour—until your
words are proven. Come, hold out your hands
and feet, and I will cut the cords. Then we
will turn our faces to my kingdom.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And the prisoner was mounted and led away
between two men-at-arms in the King’s troop.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>While these things were happening, the
Princess was on the road home. Having arrived,
she shut herself up in her rooms and
would hardly deign to go outside the walls of
her garden, or to notice anyone. When her
father was with her she treated him as though
he were an intruder, and the slightest difference
of opinion between them threw her into a
fury.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She would pace up and down the corridor,
her figure erect, her head thrown back; in her
eyes was the look of one scarce conscious of
her surroundings. And indeed, her soul had
strayed into another world—the world of pride,
and self and hardness of heart.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Time went, and the leaves of the Tree of
Pride lay thick round its foot. Winter’s white
veil covered plain and city, and the Princess, in
her palace, drew every day farther from
humanity; only the King, in his distant kingdom,
hoped on, waiting for spring.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But in the old man, his prisoner, a mighty
change was being wrought, and his malignant
spirit was beginning to go from him. He had
never before been brought so close to a noble
human being. As the King had said, so he had
done, and in the winter which followed his
return he had hardly allowed his hostage out
of his sight for an hour: waking, he kept him at
his side, and sleeping, he lay across his barred
door.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But, even while so much was at stake, he
could not neglect his daily work, and so it came
about that where he went the old man had
to go also. While he sat in council he was at
his left hand; when he dealt out justice he was
present; and when he was occupied with his
army—the pride of his soul—he was still beside
him. He saw how the King made himself as
one of his soldiers, how he shirked no work,
took no advantage; he saw his gay and noble
heart his joy in living, his prowess in all feats
of arms, the love his troops bore him—and as
he saw, his withered nature grew soft. And so
it was that by the time the young buds began
to show on the branches and the season drew
near for their journey to the Tree of Pride,
captive though he was, he would have laid down
his life for him willingly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>All the earth was bursting into youth as the
two rode over the plain and approached the tree.
The scent of its blossoms was blowing towards
them, heavy on the air. The flowers were
thick about the ends of the green shoots,
the petals, half closing, like cups, over the
golden hearts within them. The King cut a
few handfuls with his knife while his companion
plaited them into a wreath, and when it
was made, they mounted and rode into the city.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they arrived, they went to a small inn,
and the King, not wishing his presence to be
known, sent a messenger to the palace, giving
him a sum of money. With this he was to
bribe the servants to carry news to the Princess
that two strangers, having discovered a treasure,
desired to offer it to her. In this manner they
hoped to induce her to receive the crown. On
the following day the man returned, having
reached the Princess’s ear, and bringing leave
for the strangers to approach. So they presented
themselves.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They placed the wreath upon a velvet cushion,
and the King waited in a dark corner of the
Princess’s antechamber, while the old man, whose
face was hidden by a magician’s hood which he
had procured, entered and laid the gift at her
feet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Royal lady——” he began, but his voice
dropped, for the Princess’s glance fell on the
flowers, and she rose from her chair, her eyes
alight with wrath and her lips trembling. Instead
of the rich jewels she had imagined, there
lay before her a simple wreath—beautiful exceedingly,
but with a beauty for which she had
ceased to care. There was nothing about the
offering that could add to her splendour. Any
peasant girl, having leisure to weave such a
crown, might wear it without pride and without
remark.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And as she sprang up, her eyes met those of
her rejected suitor, who had drawn the curtains
of the antechamber a little aside in his suspense.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the old man raised the cushion, she
seized the wreath and tore it in pieces, scattering
the petals, like snowflakes, on the floor.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King went from the palace in despair
and returned to his lodging. He had hoped so
fiercely and so long that life seemed almost to
have come to an end. He mounted his horse,
and, bidding the old man farewell, determined
to return to his kingdom and his soldiers, putting
the thought of the Princess from him for ever.
Before he went he gave him a thousand gold
pieces, and made him promise to return to the
Tree of Pride and cut it down. As the city walls
faded behind him, he looked back at them with
a sigh. For the first time he had lost interest in
everything, and he knew that it was no longer
his pleasure to which he was returning; but
he had not forgotten that it was still his
duty.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, it chanced that, while the Princess
refused the crown, there stood by the chair a
certain lady-in-waiting. She was no longer
young, but she had been a beauty in her day
and had seen much of men and matters. She
had been at the Court for years and her heart
was heavy at the change she saw in her mistress.
She was a shrewd woman, and it did not escape
her notice that the person who offered the crown
wore a hood like those she had seen on the
heads of magicians; besides this, she marvelled
that two strangers, one of whom did not even
show himself, should wish to give the Princess
what any one of her servants might pluck from
the hedge. The old man had scarcely disappeared
before she made up her mind that here
was some mystery she did not understand.
Unobserved, she gathered up the broken flowers,
and that evening she sent a page secretly to
discover where he lived, and to desire him to
meet her, after dark, at the foot of the palace
garden. She also sent the key of a little door by
which he might enter unobserved.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the page found him, the old man was
on the point of leaving the city. He was sad, for
he had just parted from the King; but he was
resolved, when he should have destroyed the
Tree of Pride, to follow him to his own country
and spend the rest of his life in his service.
When he received the lady’s commands, he did
not hesitate to obey them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The watchmen were crying ten o’clock as he
stood in the starlight inside the little door. He
trembled, for he suspected the summons might
lead him into some trap; but to serve the King
he was ready to venture all, and he only hoped
the morning might not find him at the bottom
of a dungeon. He was considering these things
when the lady appeared. He was about to
speak when she held up her hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am the Princess’s chief lady-in-waiting,”
she began, “and her welfare is to me as my own.
I have sent for you that I may ask you, for her
sake, what reason you had for bringing such a
gift. She has everything the world can offer,
and I am certain that you would not have
brought her such a present as a common flower
wreath if there had not been some hidden virtue
in it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The old man fell down before her, clinging to
her skirt and kissing its hem.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Madam!” he cried, “only persuade the
Princess to wear it and all that I have is
yours! The King, who loves her, and whose
heart she has broken, has made me rich for the
rest of my days, but I will give it all up to you
if you will only induce her to wear it, even for
a moment.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the lady remembered the King, for she
had been at her post when he received his dismissal,
and, under her breath, she had called the
Princess a fool. She had lived long enough in
the world to know a man when she saw one.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I never take bribes,” she said, “nor, as a
rule, do I tolerate those who offer them; but
if you will tell me the truth, I will do my best
to bring the King and my mistress together.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the old man told her all.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the lady returned to the palace, she
took the fragments of the wreath and put them
carefully together. The petals she collected and
sewed into their right places with fine silk; it
was so deftly done that no one could suspect
them of having been broken.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The next day there was to be a banquet at
the palace, and before the time came for the
Princess to get ready, the lady took one of her
maids aside. “While you are fastening the
pins of Her Royal Highness’s veil,” said she,
“and before you put on her crown, you must
scream as though you had pricked your finger.
Do as I tell you and ask no questions, for I
myself will be present and keep her wrath from
you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So when the Princess sat before her mirror,
the maid brought her veil and began to fasten it,
while the lady stood by with the wreath concealed
in her wide sleeve. All at once the girl
shrieked aloud: “Oh! oh! I have torn my
finger with a pin!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You unmannerly jade!” cried the lady, “will
you make all this to-do while Her Highness is
dressing? Off with you, and I will fasten the
crown myself.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And she thrust her from the room and took
her place.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Suddenly the Princess looked up into the
glass, and saw, instead of her crown, the wreath
of half-opened flowers with their golden centres
glowing through her hair. She put up her hand
to tear the thing from her head; but just as
she was going to do so, her lips trembled, and
she leaned, sobbing, against the table, her face
buried in her hands.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>Great was the joy in the palace that night.
The Princess sat at her father’s side with a
strange look in her eyes, but her speech was
gentle and her voice soft. The lady-in-waiting
watched her, smiling. She had given the true
history of the wreath, and she wondered what
would happen.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>Before dawn next morning the Princess rose.
Without a word to anyone, she ordered her
horse to be brought, and, riding by the quietest
streets, left the city while the world was yet
asleep. She took with her a heavy purse full
of gold, which she hid in the trappings of the
saddle, and her spaniel, Giroflé, which she carried
on her knee. A mantle was thrown over her
head, that her face should not be seen, and
under it she still wore the wreath of flowers.
Her way took her past the old man’s lodging,
and there she stopped.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come out!” she cried. “Here are some
gold pieces. Go to the stable, take the best
mule you can find, and follow me. I have
vowed to wear the wreath from the Tree of
Pride until I can mend the heart that its evil
magic has broken. I have determined to seek
out the King and ask his forgiveness for all I
have done.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The old man desired nothing better. In a
few minutes he came from the stable, leading a
fine strong mule, and, as soon as he was
mounted, they set off, and passed through the
city gate while the sun was still rising through
the mist.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, the little dog, Giroflé, was not in the
best of tempers, for he resented his position
very much. He had spent a pampered youth in
the royal palace, and was now entering on a
worldly and selfish middle age. His mistress
had always made a great deal of him, and she
now took him with her, because she feared his
arrogant manners would earn him scant consideration
in her absence. She knew that he
thought himself a great deal better than her
chief lady-in-waiting, and, in the days before her
own pride blinded her to everything else, she
had often rebuked him sharply. He sat curled up
under her cloak, putting his nose out now and
then, and sniffing to show his contempt for
everything they passed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I suppose,” said he to the Princess’s horse,
“that when one travels in outlandish places one is
justified in addressing those whom one would
not be called upon to notice at home. I shall,
therefore, speak to you. Be good enough to
inform me where we are going.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Never having been inside the palace, the
horse had not met Giroflé before, though he had
often heard tell of him. His honest heart
burned at the little creature’s insolence, but he
answered civilly, not wishing to annoy the
Princess.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I have been told nothing, either,” said he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No one supposed you had,” replied Giroflé,
“but one imagines that a beast of burden should
know his way about the country.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Hold your peace, sirrah!” exclaimed the
Princess. “I allow no one to speak to Amulet
like that. It would be well for you if you were
but half as useful and brave as he is.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I prefer to be ornamental myself,” said the
little dog, impudently.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You may change your mind when I set you
down to run,” replied she, slapping him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They travelled steadily day by day, sleeping
at night in such country inns as lay in their
road. These were not very grand places, but
the Princess cared for no discomfort, thinking
only how she might get forward on her way. The
old man rode a few paces behind, sometimes
carrying Giroflé. The little dog was light, but
what he lacked in weight he made up in noise,
for he barked ceaselessly, and nothing but
threats of making him walk could keep his
tongue still.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last, one evening, as it grew late, they
came to the borders of a forest which stretched,
like a dark sea, across the horizon. A red
streak from the departed sun glared angrily over
the tree-tops, and they hurried on towards a
miserable little house where they hoped to get
a lodging. When they reached it, they found
it to be an inn, but so mean and tumble-down
was it that its walls seemed hardly able to hold
together. A rough-looking man was leaning
out of an upper window.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Can we lodge here?” asked the Princess as
she stopped before the door. “There are only
myself, my servant, and my little dog.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The man nodded, and came to take Amulet
and the mule to the stable. She dismounted
and went in, carrying Giroflé under her arm.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Heavens! what a place!” he exclaimed, as
he peeped from under her cloak. “Surely we
are never going to spend the night here!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The forest is in front,” said she, “and we
cannot find our way through it at this time of
night. We have no choice but to stay where
we are and be thankful that we have a roof
over our heads. Listen! do you hear the wind?
There will be a storm before morning.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>As she spoke a kind of moan ran through
the air and the trees began to toss to and fro.
A great splash of rain fell against the window.
Giroflé said no more, but when food was
brought and the Princess sat down to sup, he
remained in a corner of the room, his face to
the wall, and an expression on it impossible to
describe.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come here, Giroflé, and have some food,”
said the Princess, as she sat at the table.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am glad you call it food,” said he; “for
my part, I should have called it garbage.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The landlord, who was serving, looked at
him angrily.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I suppose you have never seen a spaniel
of good family before, fellow?” snapped Giroflé,
as he met his eye.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Giroflé, behave yourself!” cried the
Princess.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The landlord left the room, muttering.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So there Giroflé sat till his mistress had
retired to bed; then he came out and went to
warm himself by the hearth, for, the corner
being cold, his exclusive demeanour had chilled
him. Soon the landlord returned to take away
the dishes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are there, are you, little viper?”
said he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this Giroflé turned upon him with such a
torrent of impertinence as the man had never
heard before. He had sharpened his tongue
for years upon every member of the royal
household, including the King himself, and the
landlord, who soon found he was no match for
him, grew almost frantic.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He rushed upon the little dog, trying to reach
him with his foot and a soup-ladle which he held;
but Giroflé tore about round the table and behind
such furniture as there was, only darting
out now and then to get a good snap at his
heels. The Princess, who was not yet undressed,
came downstairs to see what was the
matter; for what between the landlord’s roars,
Giroflé’s barks, the overturning of chairs and
the wind and rain outside, the noise was really
frightful.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What is all this?” she cried, standing in
the doorway.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’ll soon show you!” bawled the landlord.
“I’ll show you that an honest man is not to be
insulted for nothing! Out with you—you and
your vile, ill-conditioned cur! Princess indeed!
He says you are a Princess—but, Princess or
not, out you go! Not another moment do you
stop under this roof!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Just then he managed to reach Giroflé with
the ladle, and the little dog sprang out, yelping,
into the passage.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come, off with you!” cried the landlord.
And, before the Princess had time to say a word,
he had opened the door and thrust her out into
the night. It was fortunate for her that she
had hidden the bag of gold in her girdle, for he
slammed the door behind them, and they could
hear the key turn and the bolts shoot into their
places.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By this time Giroflé was whining. She took
him by the scuff of the neck and shook
him. “If I did what was right, I should
leave you to perish in the nearest ditch,”
said she.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But, all the same, he was so small that she
had not the heart to let him die, so she took
him up, and ran to the stable, where the old
man had laid himself down for the night beside
Amulet and his mule. Giroflé whined and
snarled all the time.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was nothing for it but to start off
again; they could not even remain in the stable,
for the landlord was shouting from the window
to a couple of men to turn them out. All they
could do was to mount and ride towards the
forest, where at least the branches would give
them some shelter from the pouring rain.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they entered it, the darkness was such
that they could scarcely see their way. There
were no stars to guide them, so, after stumbling
about for some time, they began to search for a
place in which they could be sheltered from the
wind. By the light of the little lantern that the
old man carried with him, they saw a bank
covered with distorted tree-roots, some of which
had been torn from the ground in a gale. They
spread leaves and bracken in a hollow underneath
one of these, and the Princess lay down to
rest, with her cloak drawn about her, and Giroflé,
who was by this time much subdued, curled himself
at her feet. The old man and his mule
disposed themselves a little way off, and Amulet
stood in as snug a spot as he could find. The
noise of the swishing branches overhead sounded
like the waves of the sea.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But at last the wanderers fell asleep, and the
storm had abated and the moon come out when
the Princess heard Amulet plunging and
stamping, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. By
the light of the crescent showing through a gap
in the trees, she saw a host of dark creatures
surrounding them on all sides. She could not
imagine what they were. Their great wings
were outlined sharply against the moonlight,
and, though their faces were hidden, she was
aware of their bright eyes fixed upon her. One
figure in their midst came towards them holding
a tall spear; a crown of pale green flickering
flame was on his head. Giroflé jumped up
barking and then fled to his mistress’s skirts,
his tail between his legs. In a moment the tall
figure strode after him and pierced him to the
heart with his spear. As he bent over his
victim, the Princess could see that he had the
face of a bat.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then, at a signal from him, the whole host
came about them; they were seized, and
Amulet, who had tried to attack the Bat-King
with his teeth, was taken also; for, gallop and
stamp as he might, the fluttering wings closed
him round on every side, so that there was no
escape. The mule fled at once.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they were all safely secured, the Bat-King
went on before them and his people
followed, leading their prisoners into the heart
of the forest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And there we must leave them, for we must
return to the King, and hear what happened to
him after his parting with the old man.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>When he reached home, the King threw
himself into his old pursuits as if nothing had
happened; but his heart was so sore that they
gave him little joy, and, instead of spending his
spare hours in hunting with his lords and
gentlemen, he only longed to be alone. When
he had leisure he would ride off by himself for
days at a time, searching for new scenes and
new thoughts. He would go out across the
borders of his kingdom, by towers and rivers
and high castles, sometimes wandering through
towns and sometimes passing nights alone in
the waste places of the hills.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One evening he came to the foot of a chain
of rocky mountains, and stopped, looking up at
the crags which towered above his head. Their
shapes were so weird that he wondered whether
their spires and pinnacles had been carved out
by human hands, or whether an earthquake had
cast them up in the likeness of men’s work. A
track wound up and disappeared among them,
and he turned his horse’s steps into it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He had reached a considerable height when
he came suddenly to a chasm so deep that he
could not see its bottom. The rock on either
side was worn smooth, as though with the
passing of many feet, and the opening was
narrow enough for a man to stride across without
difficulty. The horse stopped, and the
rein being loose on his neck, snuffed delicately
at the strange gash that divided his path; then
he picked his way over it, snorting and cocking
his ears. They were scarcely ten yards on the
farther side when there was a loud cracking
noise, and, looking back, the King saw that the
chasm had split wider asunder and now yawned
behind him like the mouth of a pit. The horse
dashed forward, and had gone some distance
before his rider could check him. When at
last they stood still, they had come to a smooth
face of high rock, with a wide ledge at its foot,
over which the track went.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Crowning its summit, some feet above their
heads, ran a battlemented wall, and on it sat a
woman who looked down at the King while she
supported herself with one white arm. Whirling
vapour floated behind her, through which appeared
the outline of a fantastic castle whose
towers seemed to climb to heaven. Her hair was
bound about with cords of silver and livid
purple poppies. Their petals were dropping
down and falling in the King’s path. A dull
dark blue garment was wound round her which
left only her bare arms free and trailed over the
wall below her feet, mixing with her heavy
plaits and the silver tassels at the ends of them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She smiled, bending forward till she looked
as though she must fall from her high place;
she was like some great unearthly gull poised
upon a wave’s crest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Soon it will be too dark to travel among
these precipices,” she cried. “Come up, O
King, before the light falls. The way winds
up to my gates.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And, indeed, the path took a turn at the end
of the ledge, and, twisting like a ribbon, vanished
in the vapour.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was no going back, for the chasm was
behind him, and the light, as she said, was
failing; so he rode upwards till he came to a
gate whose top was lost in the clouds. It
opened, disclosing a castle, and inside it the
lady was coming to meet him, her draperies
trailing behind her and the silver tassels on her
plaits making a tinkling sound as they swept
the stones. A noiseless person came from a
doorway and led away his horse.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was very beautiful. Her pale face and
scarlet lips and her heavy-lidded eyes made
him think of things he had seen in dreams,
and a faint misgiving touched him as he
followed her. Before the castle was a terrace,
on the wall of which he had seen her sitting
above him as he entered. He passed through
stone galleries, over whose sides he thought
he could see wild faces staring; the misgiving
deepened with every step.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She went before him to a chamber hung with
curtains, and when she had left him, another
silent servant brought him fresh clothes and
began to unbuckle his spurs. When he had
put off his belt and sword, the servant took
them from him and turned to the door.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Give me my sword,” said the King; “I
never part with that.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>He stretched out his hand to take it, but as
he did so his companion vanished on the spot
where he had stood. Then he saw that the walls
were hung with images of demons, and that
snakes’ heads peered from the corners. He
looked out of the window, to see nothing but
whirling vapours. When a messenger came to
tell him that the lady awaited him to sup with
her, he followed gloomily, for he knew he was
in the stronghold of an Enchantress.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was sitting at a table, on which a feast
was spread, and she made him as welcome as
though he had been some long-expected guest.
Her voice was mellow as the voice of pigeons
cooing in the woods, but it seemed to him that
a gleam of cruelty lurked in her eyes. After
dark, a chill fell in the air, and they drew close
to a fire of logs which glowed at one end of the
hall. A silent-footed company of musicians
came, playing on instruments the like of which
he had never seen, and one in their midst
began to sing:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Boughs of the pine, and stars between,</p>
<p class='line0'>In woods where shadows fill the air—</p>
<p class='line0'>Oh, who may rest that once hath been</p>
<p class='line0'>      A shadow there?</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Sounds of the night, and tears between,</p>
<p class='line0'>The grey owl hooting, dimly heard:</p>
<p class='line0'>Can footsteps reach these lands unseen,</p>
<p class='line0'>      Or wings of bird?</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Days of the years, and worlds between—</p>
<p class='line0'>Oh, through those boughs the stars may burn;</p>
<p class='line0'>The heart may break for lands unseen,</p>
<p class='line0'>For woods wherein its life has been,</p>
<p class='line0'>      But not return!”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>The King sat listening, his head leaning
upon his hand, and when he looked up, the
Enchantress’s eyes were fixed on him with the
cruel look he could not fathom. He sprang up
and begged leave to retire; he was weary, he
said, for he had ridden a long distance. At the
door of the hall he asked her to tell her servants
to return his sword. “We have never been
parted yet,” said he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She broke into a laugh. “To-morrow,” she
said, waving him away. And when he would
have spoken again, he found himself alone.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He rose very early next day and left the
castle without meeting anyone; the gates were
open, and he went all round the walls, hoping to
come across some path which would take him
out of the hills and lead him to the plains below.
He was now sure that he was a prisoner. He
remembered with a shudder how the rock on
either side of the chasm was worn by the feet
that had passed over it; and, having found only
precipices on the north side of the castle, he
determined to follow the track by which he had
come, and see if some path, no matter how
dangerous, might be found by which he could
escape.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Coming down towards the chasm, he could
hardly believe his eyes, for the sides had closed
together, and it was no wider than when he had
first seen it. He ran forward, but as he reached
the brink it opened with the cracking noise he
had heard before, and he found himself standing
on the edge, looking into a gulf of mist. He
turned back, disheartened; and as he crossed
the ledge under the wall, he looked up to see
the Enchantress, perched upon her height,
watching him and smiling.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Day after day he lived on, a free prisoner.
Each evening when he left her he asked for his
sword, and each evening her laugh was the
only answer he got. He did not know that
the Enchantress had sat countless years upon
the ramparts of her castle, waiting, like a spider,
for her prey; that all her life had been spent in
entrapping and imprisoning men. Some she
had slain, some she had kept in dungeons, and
some had dashed themselves down into the
ravines or perished among them in their efforts
to escape.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But she had no intention of killing the
King or of casting him into a dungeon; of all
those she had entrapped, he was the one she
liked best, and every day she fell more deeply
in love with him. She would stand by him on the
highest tower of the castle, showing him all the
wonders of the landscape and telling him tales
which almost made him forget his captivity;
she gave him rich gifts, and plied him with such
wines and delicacies as, King though he was,
he had never tasted. Each morning a servant
brought him new clothes and jewels to choose
from, but it only made him long more fervently
for his russet leather and his sword. Each
evening she would send for her musicians and
sit by him till far into the night, listening to the
unearthly melodies they played. But he cared
neither for her nor for them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>His thought was always of escape, but, to
throw her off her guard, he behaved as though
life was growing endurable. He kissed her hand
night and morning, he sought her company, he
did all that he could to flatter her; but in reality
he hated her false smile and soft voice, and only
the hope of releasing himself made him able to
play his part.</p>
<p class='pindent'>On the first night of every week the
Enchantress would disappear, going out in a
car drawn by great owls, and not returning till
dawn. He longed to go with her, because he
was weary for a change of scene, and because
he thought it possible that he might find some
chance of escape. So one evening, seeing that
she was about to depart, he sighed heavily.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Lady,” he said, “if you knew how long
these evenings seem to me when you are away,
you would never have the heart to go.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Are not all my dancing-girls and musicians
here to while away the time?” replied she,
looking very softly at him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What do I care for them?” said he. “Is
there one who has a voice like yours, or a face to
be compared with yours? No, no. If I have to
part with you, my only wish is to be alone.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Enchantress was delighted.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I must go, nevertheless,” she said. “For a
long time past I have spent the first night of
every week in a visit to the Bat-King, who
rules over an enchanted forest some leagues from
here. If I were to disappoint him, he would
never forgive me. I have to go after dark and
return before sunrise, as he can only see at
night, and spends his days sleeping among the
trees.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King made as though he were jealous.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And who is this Bat-King that he should
rob me of you?” he cried in an angry voice.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, well,” said the Enchantress, laughing,
“there is only one thing for it—you must come
too. For I cannot vex the Bat-King by my
absence, and you can delight yourself with my
company while we go and come.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then, as though she guessed his thoughts,
she continued: “If I did not know you loved
me, I would tell you that you need not hope to
escape from me in the forest. The Bat-King
has millions of subjects, and he has only to
sign to them to put you to death should you
attempt it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>They went out, and on the ramparts her
chariot waited her. The King could not tell
what it was made of, but it looked like one of
those clouds that cross the setting sun before
a stormy night; six enormous owls were harnessed
to it and stood ready for a flight, their
yellow eyes fixed on space. A servant handed
a long scourge of plaited twigs to the Enchantress.
When she and the King had seated
themselves, the car rose into the air, and they
were soon rushing across the sky.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Away they went, leaving the earth far under
them; they flew over towns twinkling with
lights and rivers which lay in the darkness
like shining snakes. Sometimes a heavy bird
of prey would pass on its way beneath them, and
sometimes the cry of a nightjar would come up
from below. At last they came upon a dark
mass covering many miles, which the Enchantress
told him was the forest of the Bat-King.
A curious twilight shone through the branches,
caused by the presence of many glow-worms.
The owls lit upon an open patch among the
trees, and she got out of the car, telling the King
to remain beside her as he valued his life. The
owls crouched near, ruffling as they settled.</p>
<p class='pindent'>In a short time they saw a dark-winged
figure coming towards them, whose crown of
pale flame threw furtive shadows on the tree-trunks.
The Enchantress went to meet him,
and for some time the two friends walked up
and down at a little distance from the King.
He looked above and around for some chance
of escape. Once he thought of springing into
the owl chariot, but the Enchantress had taken
her whip of plaited twigs with her, and he
feared that without it the owls might refuse to fly.
He felt under his doublet for a dagger which he
had managed to lay hands on after his sword
had been taken, and which he had kept carefully
hidden ever since. Then a sound made him
glance upwards, and he saw that the boughs of
the trees were a mass of gigantic figures, winged
and carrying long nets; they jibbered and
laughed, making as though they would throw
them over him. It was plain that there was
no hope of escape, and that his only chance
would be on the homeward way, when he might
stab the Enchantress, and with her plaited
switch force the owls downwards to earth. But
he shuddered at the thought of killing a woman,
even though she were a fiend. He turned
over these things in his mind till he heard her
calling.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come!” she was saying. “It may please you
to see some of your own kind. His Majesty
has got two prisoners he is keeping in the forest,
and I am going to look at them. You need not
think we shall leave you. I hear that the
woman is beautiful, so you can tell me if you
think her as beautiful as I am.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>They followed the Bat-King for some
distance. The thickness of the forest was surprising;
twisted roots were woven together in
the most wonderful manner, and starry blossoms
swayed to and fro in the night wind. The Bat-creatures
came crowding behind, close on their
footsteps.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last they reached a place where some trees
stood round a grassy circle; in the centre of it
were two figures.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“See,” said the Bat-King, “here are my
prisoners. In the night, when my people are
awake, they are watched on all sides, and in
the day, while we sleep, one touch of my
spear raises such a wall of bush and brier
that they may try for ever to get through it
in vain.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>His eyes gleamed with malice. “Stand,
woman!” he cried, “stand up and let the
Enchantress see you!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>A lady rose and stood before them, and, as
she looked up at her tormentor, her eyes met
those of the King. For a moment he remained
dumb with horror, then, with a shout, he sprang
upon the Bat-King, hurling him to the ground
and battering his head against the earth.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Enchantress shrieked and the Bat-people
came round in dozens. They overpowered
the King, dragging his enemy from
under him, and in another moment he also
found himself a prisoner.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Bat-King, who was now on his feet,
rushed at him with his spear, but the Enchantress
threw herself between them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No, no!” she cried, “you shall not kill him!
He is mine! No one shall harm him. I love
him and he loves me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this the King, beside himself with rage,
turned upon her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I would sooner die than be near you another
day,” he cried. “I hate you as I hate sin
itself! There is only one person in the world
I love, and that is this Princess.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Enchantress’s face grew white; all her
beauty seemed to have faded. She pressed
close to him, her fingers opening and shutting,
as though she would tear him to pieces.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I hate you!” he exclaimed again. “Woman
though you are, if my hands were free, I would
kill you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You all shall die,” said the Enchantress.
“First you shall see the woman die, you
traitor; then her companion; then you shall
die yourself. No one lives to offend me
twice.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then she turned to the Bat-King. “Send for
your subjects,” she cried, “and let us kill them
before I leave this forest. I will not go back to
my castle till I have seen them slain with
torments.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Bat-King held up his spear, and his
creatures came flocking from every thicket till
the place looked like a billowy sea of black
wings.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King’s heart sank; he cared little for
torment and pain or the loss of his own life,
but he could not bear the thought of seeing
the Princess die. But she looked bravely
at him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We have met again,” she said, “so I am
happy. And now we are going to die for
each other.” Then she turned to the old man.
“Giroflé is dead,” said she, “and they have
taken Amulet—I know not where; but you have
stayed to the end with me. I have nothing to
reward you with, but I will do all I can for you.
Lady,” she continued, “neither I nor the King
would ask for our lives, even if you were willing
to grant them. But this old man, my faithful
servant, has done you no harm. I beg you to
spare him.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He shall die first, that you may see it,”
replied the Enchantress, with a look of hatred.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But at this moment there was a sudden
movement among the Bat-people, and all their
dark arms were raised, pointing in one direction.
For, far away eastward, beyond the tree-trunks,
the first pale streaks of morning lay along the
edge of the world.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is too late,” cried the Bat-King. “In a
few minutes the dawn will be upon us, and we
shall not be able to see.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Even as he spoke the Bat-creatures were
hurrying back to their trees, blinking in the
growing light. His eyes were getting dimmer
every moment, and the Enchantress saw that
she must put off her vengeance.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“When I return, this night week, we will kill
them,” said she. “Keep them for me, for I
will not lose the sight for twenty kingdoms.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And she went off in haste, for she feared
that her owls might not reach the castle ere the
full blaze of day.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Before the Bat-King left his prisoners, he
struck his spear on the ground, and a wall of
briers rose around them, shutting them in. As
soon as they were alone, the King, who still
had his dagger hidden upon him, began to try
and cut a way through with it. But as fast as
he cut one stem, another grew in its place, and
he found his work useless; there seemed
nothing to do but to sit and wait for the end.
In a week the Enchantress would return to see
them put to death, and he could only promise
himself that, while he had his concealed weapon,
he would sell all their lives dear. Neither he
nor the Princess had any hope of escape, for
even should they be able to get through the
tangled walls, they knew that the Bat-creatures
could easily prevent their getting out of the
forest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At night, when the Bats were astir, the Bat-King
would make the wall disappear, for he
liked to look at his captives and tell them how
little time they had left. In this way several
days went by.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, the Princess had worn her white wreath
till every bit of blossom had fallen, so that by
the time she arrived in the forest it was scarcely
more than a twist of withered leaves. She had
taken it off reluctantly and thrown it down
close to the place where they were now confined,
and one day, as she and her lover paced
their prison, they saw that the damp earth had
revived the dying shoots and that they had put
forth fruit. It lay on the earth, ripe and purple,
and when night had fallen, and the Bat-King
walked abroad, he saw what he took to be a
spray of plums lying tossed at the foot of a
tree. He ate one, and, finding it delicious, did
not stop till he had devoured the whole.</p>
<p class='pindent'>That night the Bats rushed up and down the
forest in dismay, for they could not think what
had happened to their monarch. He would
suffer none to approach him. No one could do
his bidding fast enough to escape his wrath; no
one was fit to stand in his presence; no one
could make a low enough obeisance as he
passed. But the strangest thing of all was that,
when dawn broke, instead of hastening to his
tree till the light should be gone, he protested
that he was able to see as well in the sunshine as
in the dark. To one so great as himself, he said,
day and night were the same. He stumbled
about, feeling the way with his spear, and by
the time the Bats were asleep he came to the
place where the Princess and her companions
were. He had forgotten the wall he should
have raised round them; he had forgotten how
dangerous it was to approach the King unguarded;
he had forgotten everything but his
own fancied greatness.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King watched him come; his hand was
on his dagger, his eyes on fire. As he drew
near he sprang upon him and stabbed him to
the heart—once—twice. It was all over in a
moment, quietly, and the Bat-King died without
a groan, for his enemy’s hand was over his
mouth.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By noon they had dug a hole deep enough
for his body, and, having taken his clothes, his
wings and his spear, they laid him in it, treading
down the earth and covering the place with
leaves.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then they took the old man and dressed him
in the Bat-King’s garments. They fastened the
wings to his shoulders in as natural a way as
they could. They put the spear in his hand,
the flaming crown on his head, and with the
dagger they cut off his long beard. With flint
and steel they lit a fire, and, burning some
wood, smeared his face with the ash till it was
as dark as that of their dead enemy. His own
clothes they rolled up and hid in a hole. When
all this was done the old man made a whistling
noise, such as he had heard the Bat-King
make to call his subjects, and the evil creatures
trooped round, staggering blindly about in the
daylight.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they were gathered at a little distance,
he told them, in a voice as like that of their
leader as he could make it, that the Princess’s
servant was dead. He showed them the mound
in the grass, under which, he said, he had made
the other two prisoners bury him. A murmur
of approval ran through the Bat crowd. The
creatures could scarcely see the speaker, but
they were anxious to keep their Sovereign in a
good temper, so they pretended to understand
everything. It was evident that they had no
suspicions.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If we are to escape,” said the Princess, under
her breath, “I must have my dear Amulet back,
I will never consent to leave him here.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Now!” cried the old man, “bring me the
white horse that the woman rode upon. Fetch
him immediately, for I intend to go afoot no
more.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“To-night, your Majesty, to-night?” cried
they, astonished. “We cannot see in this
blinding light!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Obey me at once,” roared the old man, “or
I will have fifty of you executed after sunset!
Is the greatest monarch on earth to walk like
the lowest of his people?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Bats disappeared in all directions, for
the Bat-King had kept the horse tied up in a
distant spot; in their alarm they strayed all
over the forest, but at last some of them got to
the place where he was tethered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess watched eagerly for her
favourite. “Dear Amulet,” she whispered to
him when he arrived, “have no fear and we
shall yet escape. I have sent for you that I
may free you. Do all you are bid, for he who
you think is the Bat-King is our friend who
has come all the way with us.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the old man mounted; he dismissed the
crowd, but kept back one of the Bat-creatures,
whom he drove before him with his spear to
guide him to the edge of the enchanted forest.
The Bat could scarcely see, but when he
stopped, he beat him with the spear-shaft till
he found the way again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The King and Princess remained behind;
they feared to rouse the suspicions of their
enemies by going with him, as evening
was far spent and the time when they would see
clearly was drawing near. Besides which, they
did not know how far distant the forest’s edge
might be, nor whether the Princess would be
able to reach it on foot by dark.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Before long the old man returned. He had
freed Amulet at the borders, bidding him stay
near the wood’s outskirts till his mistress should
be able to join him. He had then slain the
guide with his spear, lest he should bring word
to his fellows of what had happened. The
Princess rejoiced that her dear Amulet was
safe, and the three companions sat down to
discuss their escape. The King had a plan
which they hoped to carry out that night, for
the week had gone by and the Enchantress
was coming.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The glow-worms were shining and the Bats
going about again with open eyes when the
owl-chariot was seen. The old man took a
dark cloak which had belonged to the Bat-King,
and, muffling his head and face with it, went to
meet the Enchantress. As she stepped out of
her car he cried: “Alas, lady! I have bad
news. The old man is dead, and the pleasure
of slaying one of these wretches is lost. I kept
him alive as long as I could, but his captivity
told on him and he died.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That is of no consequence,” said she. “It
is the other two who concern me most. We
will make it yet worse for them. But why do
you keep your face hidden?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Fair one,” replied he, “flying in the daylight,
I bruised my cheek against a tree, and I
would not that you should see it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>She laughed. “And why is your voice so
strange?” she asked again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is the folds of the cloak that muffle it,”
said he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And how is it,” she went on, seating herself
on the grass, “that you have made no
preparations for the execution?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“All is ready,” he said; “only wait till I call
up my people, and you shall choose the manner
of their deaths.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then he gave a call, and the Bat-creatures
surrounded them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Bats!” he cried, pointing to the Enchantress,
“fall upon this woman and slay her where she
stands.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And almost before she had time to scream
they had set upon her, and while she raved and
struggled they beat her with their heavy wings,
smiting her till she died.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then the King and Princess sprang into the
owl-chariot, the old man following. Before the
Bats discovered how they had been deceived,
the King took the plaited switch which was
lying in the car and lashed the owls till they
flew up far above the heads of the tossing crowd.
The Bat-creatures rose with one accord into the
air and followed in a great flight, but the owls
were swifter, and soon the forest was passed and
the pursuers fell back, fearing the open country.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>When the lovers and their companion came
down to earth and lit on the ground, they found
Amulet waiting near the place where the old
man had left him, and they passed the rest of
the night peacefully under the stars.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Next day they began their homeward journey,
and in time reached the city in the plain where
the Princess lived; and there she was married
to her lover with great splendour. Amulet and
the old man went with her to her husband’s
kingdom, and on the way thither they stopped
to see the Tree of Pride cut down.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then they rode on, the King and his Queen
side by side, and disappeared over the plain and
beyond the blue hills into their new life.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap05'>THE STORY OF FARMYARD MAGGIE</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>One Saturday afternoon when the miller had
let his man go out, he was standing at the mill
door above the steps, with the white dust
whirling behind him like a mist. He saw Peter
and his sister near the witch’s cottage, and he
waved his hand and shouted to them to come.
He was smoking, but knocked the ashes out of
his pipe, for he was certain that little Peter
would ask for a story. He liked telling him
stories better than reading out of his grandmother’s
book, because he could look at Janet
all the time, instead of keeping his eyes upon
the words. He began to rack his brains for
something new.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“A story! a story!” cried little Peter, as soon
as he had got within earshot.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I have none left in my head,” said the
miller, teasing him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then there is the book,” said Peter. “I’ll
go for it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was a long time since he had stopped
being afraid of the tall man in the white hat.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No! no! no!” cried the miller. “Come
here and sit on the sacks, and I’ll think of
something. We’ll go up and shut the sluice
in a few minutes, and by that time no doubt
something new will come into my mind.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Janet came in and sat down, and the dust
settled on her yellow hair till she looked like a
snow-powdered fairy on the top of a Christmas
cake. The miller thought it beautiful. As for
little Peter, the creaking machinery was enough
to keep him happy, and when they went to
shut the sluice-gate, he danced and jumped the
whole way there.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“So here we’ll stay,” said the miller, when
the water was turned off and they were sitting
on a fallen tree at the edge of the mill-dam.
“I have just remembered the story of Farmyard
Maggie.”</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='pindent'>Long before you were born, and before I
was born either (began the miller), there lived
at the farm over yonder a little girl. She was
an orphan, like you, but she had not even
a grandmother to share her roof with her.
In summer she slept by the hedge, and in
winter she would slip into the stable and lie by
the farm horses. And when it was autumn,
and the stacks stood in rows in the rickyard
waiting to be threshed, she would crawl in
under them through the little hole that is left
for the air to pass through and to keep them
from heating. There she slept as snug as if
she were in a house. She was called “Farmyard
Maggie,” because it was her business to
look after the fowls in the yard.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Poor little body! she had not a very happy
life of it. They were rough folk at the farm,
for the farmer was miserly and his wife was
cruel, and often she did not get enough to eat.
But the farm men were kind and would sometimes
give her a crust of bread or a bit of
cheese from their own dinners; and once, when it
was cold, a ploughman brought her a pair of
shoes that belonged to his own little girl, for he
did not like to see her poor little toes on the
frosty ground. The horses were kind always,
and were careful not to kick her or tramp on
her when she took refuge in their stalls; but,
unfortunately, they were proud, and when they
had on their fine harness with the brass crescents
that swung between their ears, they would not
notice her. They were high creatures.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie took care of the poultry well. She
knew all the cocks and hens and little chickens,
and even the waddling, gobbling, ducks, whom
she fetched home each evening from the pond
at the foot of the hill, thought well of her—that
is, when they had time to think of anything but
their own stomachs, which was not often,
certainly. But she had two great friends who
loved her dearly. One was a little game-fowl
who was as straight on his legs as a sergeant on
parade, and the other was a large Cochin-China
cock who looked as if he wore ill-fitting yellow
trousers that were always on the verge of coming
off. The gamecock despised the Cochin-Chinaman
a little, for he thought him vulgar, but he
was a great deal too well-bred to show it.
Besides which, their affection for Maggie made
the two birds quite friendly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One autumn afternoon, when the mist hung
over the stubble and the brambles were red and
gold, Maggie sat crying just over there by the
roadside. She was most dreadfully unhappy,
for a duck was lost and the farmer’s wife had
told her that she must go away and never come
back any more. She had turned her out of the
yard without so much as a sixpence or a piece
of bread to keep her from starving.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Presently the Cochin-China cock passed by,
and when he saw she was in trouble, he came
running towards her as hard as he could, with
great awkward strides and his neck stuck out in
front of him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what <span class='it'>is</span> the matter?” he cried. And
Maggie put her arms round him and told him
everything.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When he knew what had happened he was in
as great a taking as herself, and he walked up and
down, flapping his wings distractedly and making
the most heartrending noises in his throat.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I must go for Alfonso,” he said at last.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Alfonso was the gamecock.</p>
<p class='pindent'>I can tell you there was a to-do when the
birds got at the bottom of the affair! They
stood, one on either side of their poor friend,
begging her not to cry; and Alfonso was anxious
to fight everybody, from the bantam up to the
great bubbly-jock who scraped his wings along
the ground and turned blue about the neck if
you whistled to him. All the fowls knew that
something terrible had happened.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But what is the use of your fighting, dear
Alfonso?” said Maggie. “It would do me no
good, and the poultry are all innocent. They
have done me no harm.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am not so sure about those sly fat huzzies
of ducks. What business have they to look
after themselves so badly? I have a good
mind to go down and have a few words with
the drake.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“No, no—pray don’t,” said Maggie. “The
best thing I can do is to go away and be done
with it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Cochin-Chinaman was weeping hoarsely:
he had no dignity.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I never thought to leave my family,” he
cried, “but this is the last they’ll see of me. I
shall go with you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Alfonso was rather shocked, for he had very
proper ideas.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And leave your wife?” he exclaimed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“She is in love with the Dorking cock, so
she can stay with him. I have known it for
some time. There he is, standing on one leg
by the wood-pile.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I will come too,” said the game-fowl, who
was a bachelor, “but do you go on. I will
just go and break every bone in the drake’s
body, and I can catch you up before you are
out of sight.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no! no! Promise you won’t do that!”
implored Maggie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It took some time to persuade him to be
quiet, but at last it was done.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is better to get the business over at
once,” said the Cochin-China cock. “If Alfonso
is ready, we will start.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And pray, who says I am not ready for
anything?” inquired the other. “Anyone who
wants to eat his words has only to come to
me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But nobody says it,” replied Maggie soothingly.
“I am sure no one ever had two such
dear, brave friends as I have.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And with that the three set forth on their
travels.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They went up the road that runs north,
round the other side of the dam, for they were
anxious to get as far as possible without being
seen, in case anyone should come after them to
try and make the cocks go back. Sometimes
they ran, they were in such a hurry. At last
they came to where the old gipsy track crosses
the way, and turned into it; feeling much safer
for the shelter of the whins and bushes in that
green place.</p>
<p class='pindent'>All round them there were tangles of bramble,
red and copper and orange, and fiery spotted
leaves. Where it was damp the dew still lay
under the burning bracken and the yellow ragwort
stood up like plumes and feathers of gold.
Here they went slower, pushing through the
broom, whose black pods rattled as they passed.
In front of them a little string of smoke was
rising, and when they reached it, they found
that it came from the chimneys of a caravan
which was drawn up in a clearing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie and her two friends crouched down
and looked at it through the bracken. They saw
a large blue van and a battered-looking green
one, which stood with their shafts resting on the
ground. A couple of horses grazed, unharnessed,
a few yards away. In a circle of stones
burned a fire, over which hung a black caldron,
and a woman, with a string of red beads round
her neck, was nursing a baby on the top step of
the blue van.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what a lovely baby!” whispered Maggie,
as she gazed at them.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“So it is,” replied the Cochin-China cock
amiably. Alfonso turned up his beak, for he
had no domestic tastes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I must go a little nearer,” said Maggie.
“Oh, look! the woman can see us. I really will
ask her to show it to me.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Ma’am,” she said, making a curtsey, “may
I look at your little child?”</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill004.jpg' alt='Girl holds baby.' id='img04' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“MAGGIE TOOK IT AND BEGAN TO ROCK IT ABOUT.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>The woman exchanged glances of rather
contemptuous amusement with a man who had
come out of the van and stood behind her.
Then she held the baby out to Maggie, and
Maggie took it and began to rock it about
as if she had minded babies, and not poultry,
all her life.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, I never!” said the man. He wore
small gold rings in his ears.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this moment there arose a most furious
noise from some fowls that were wandering
about among the van wheels, where a fight was
beginning. Alfonso had already managed to
pick a quarrel with someone of his own sex,
and the hens were screeching as the two birds
crouched opposite to each other, making leaps
into the air and striking out until the feathers
flew.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Alfonso! Alfonso! stop this moment!”
screamed Maggie. “Oh! what a way to
behave!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But she could not get at him because of the
baby she held.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He has dreadful manners,” moaned the
Cochin-China cock. But he would not have
said that if Alfonso had been able to hear
him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well,” said the man, vaulting down the
steps, “that’s the finest little game-bird I ever
saw.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And without more ado he separated the
fighters and pushed Alfonso under a basket
that stood upside down near the van. There
was a hole in it, and through this Alfonso
stuck his head and crowed at the top of his
voice.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What are you doing to him?” cried Maggie.
“He is my friend, and we are travelling together.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He’s mine now,” replied the man, “for I’m
going to keep him.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I can’t part from him—you have got
no right to take him away.” And the tears
rushed to Maggie’s eyes at the thought.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Best come along too,” said the woman, who
spoke little.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh yes—and perhaps I could mind the
baby,” exclaimed Maggie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You’d have to,” said the woman. “We
don’t keep people for nothing.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But there’s him too,” said Maggie, pointing
to the Cochin-Chinaman. “I can’t leave him
either. He always goes with Alfonso and me.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The man laughed. “You’re the queerest lot
<span class='it'>I</span> ever saw,” said he. “But I suppose we must
have you all.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so it was settled.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie was very much relieved to find that
the party was to move away early next morning,
and she took care to keep as much out of sight
as possible. But the rest of the evening passed
without their hearing or seeing anything of the
people at the farm, and she hoped that no one
had discovered their absence. As soon as it
was light next day the horses were harnessed,
and the three truants set out with their new
friends.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was another member of the party who
came back to the camp just as they were starting,
and who drove the green van. His name was
Dan, and he was the brother of the man with
the gold earrings, a clean-shaved brown young
fellow, with dark smooth hair which came forward
in a flat lock over either ear. He wore a
cap made of rabbit-skin, and he looked after the
two horses. Though he took little notice of
Maggie she was not afraid of him, for he had a
self-contained, serious face, and was so good to
the beasts that she knew he must be kind.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Besides this work he did nothing in the camp.
His brother was a tinman, but Dan left the pots
and pans alone; and it was only when the party
was at village fairs that his talents came into
play. The horse which drew the smaller van
and did the lighter work was a bright chestnut
with a fine coat, which Dan groomed ceaselessly.
Both animals followed him like dogs, and he
could do whatever he pleased with the chestnut,
which could jump almost anything. When he
rode him, barebacked, at the big fairs, the
crowd would look on open-mouthed, shouting as
he cleared the hurdles and dropping their pence
into the rabbit-skin cap when it was carried
round. Once an ill-natured fellow had stuck a
thorn into the horse’s flank as he was led by,
and Dan had blacked both his eyes before
leaving the fair. When the vans were settled
in one place, he would often be absent for days
together, and nobody knew where he went.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie soon found out that they were making
for some woods a few days’ journey off. She
was very happy, for she had seen so little of the
world outside the farmyard that every new
place amused her. The woman was friendly
to her in her silent way when she found
how careful she was of the baby. Maggie soon
learnt to dress and tend it; and she swept out
the vans, lit the fires, and in the evening sat on
the top step, talking to Alfonso and the Cochin-China
cock. They were quite contented too,
though they did not live so well as they had
done at the farm.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They travelled on, by villages and hill-sides,
by moors and by roads. The trees flamed with
autumn, and the rose-hips were turning red.
At last they drew up in a grassy track which
ran through an immense wood, where the
sighing of the air in the fir-branches rose and
fell in little gusts, and grey-blue wood-pigeons
went flapping away down the vistas of stems.
Maggie had never imagined such a place,
and when the camp was set out and she
lay down, tired, to sleep, she promised herself
that, if she had a free moment on the morrow,
she would go and see more of it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was the next afternoon that her chance
came, and off she set, looking back now and
then, to make sure of finding her way home.
How tall the bracken was! The bramble, that
in woods keeps its living green almost into
the winter, trailed over the path, and there were
regiments of table-shaped toadstools, crimson
and scarlet and brown. The rabbits fled at her
step, diving underground into unseen burrows,
and the male-fern stood like upright bunches of
plumes. She was so much delighted by all
this that she went on, and on, until the sound of
a voice singing to a stringed instrument made
her stand still to listen.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Not far off was another camp, much like the
one she had left. There were several tents,
and people were moving about; but the music
came from close by, on the other side of an overturned
fir whose roots stood up like wild arms.
She stole up and peeped round the great circle
of earth which the tree had torn out with it in
its fall, and in which ferns and rough grass had
sown themselves. She <span class='it'>was</span> surprised!</p>
<p class='pindent'>On his face in the moss lay Dan, his elbows
on the ground, his chin in his hands. His
rabbit-skin cap was pulled over his eyes, and
the gold rings which, like his brother, he wore
in his ears gleamed against his dark neck.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A girl sat near him, playing on a little stringed
instrument, such as Maggie had never seen
before. Her voice reminded her of the wood-pigeons,
and the twang of the strings as she
struck them was both sharp and soft at once.
The blue of her eyes and the pale pink colour of
her cheeks made Dan look almost like an Indian
by contrast with her. She had ceased singing,
but Maggie kept as still as possible in hopes of
hearing some more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It’s a good thing I left Alfonso at home,” she
thought; “he would have never stayed quiet.
I won’t breathe, and perhaps she’ll begin again.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Dan was silent too, though he never took his
eyes off his companion’s lips. Soon she touched
the strings again and played a few notes that
sounded like a whisper.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“This is called ‘The Wind in the Broom,’ ”
she said:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“ ‘Wind, wind, in the forest tall,</p>
<p class='line0'>Do you stir the broom where my lass is waiting?</p>
<p class='line0'>Pale lass, in the witch’s thrall—</p>
<p class='line0'>For the witch is by, and she may not call.</p>
<p class='line0'>(O the long, long days that my lass is waiting!)</p>
<p class='line0'>  Gold broom, with your flowers in bloom,</p>
<p class='line0'>Wave,’ says the lad: ‘it is time for mating.’</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“ ‘Lad, lad, in the witch’s wood,</p>
<p class='line0'>There is no more hope when the spell is spoken;</p>
<p class='line0'>Lost lad, is the sight so good</p>
<p class='line0'>Of the empty place where your love has stood?</p>
<p class='line0'>(O the long, long days that her heart has broken!)</p>
<p class='line0'>  Dead broom, be your bare pod’s doom</p>
<p class='line0'>Black,’ says the witch, ‘for a sign and token.’</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“ ‘Bold broom, by the witch’s door,</p>
<p class='line0'>Will you hide my lad as his step steals nigher?</p>
<p class='line0'>Sleep, witch, on the forest floor;</p>
<p class='line0'>You are drugged by the broom-flowers’ scented core.</p>
<p class='line0'>(O the smouldering fumes of its golden fire!)</p>
<p class='line0'>  Burn, broom, in the forest’s gloom,</p>
<p class='line0'>Glow,’ says the lass, ‘like the heart’s desire.’</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
</div>
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“ ‘Wind, wind, round the witch’s lair</p>
<p class='line0'>There’s a lad and lass that no spell can sever;</p>
<p class='line0'>Sing, wind, in the broom-flowers there,</p>
<p class='line0'>For you sing good-bye to an old despair.</p>
<p class='line0'>(O the long, long days, that are done for ever!)</p>
<p class='line0'>  Gold broom, with the silken plume,</p>
<p class='line0'>Laugh,’ says the wind, ‘because love dies never.’ ”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>Maggie was so much absorbed in the song
that she came forward a little from behind the
root. Though Dan had not turned his head
she saw that his watchful eyes were on her, and
she prepared to move away. The girl turned
round; her face was so sweet that Maggie
spoke up.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I was only listening to the song,” she said.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come and sit beside me,” said the singer.
“My name is Rhoda. Who are you?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That’s the girl from our camp,” said Dan.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Long after he had gone back to feed the
horses Maggie sat talking to her new friend.
She told her all about Alfonso and the Cochin-Chinaman,
and how they had all run away from
the farm. Though Rhoda was grown up and
could not understand fowls when they spoke,
she listened with great interest, and Maggie
promised to bring the two cocks to visit her.
When she got home Dan was putting a rug on
the chestnut horse, for the nights were growing
colder. He seemed to look at her with a new
interest.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Do you like Rhoda’s songs?” he asked
suddenly.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh yes.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“She makes them for me,” said Dan.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am going to take Alfonso and the other
cock to see her,” continued Maggie. “Perhaps
I shall go to-morrow.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then I had better come with you. There
are wild-cats in the wood,” observed Dan
shortly. And he went into the green van and
said no more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>After that Maggie managed to slip away
nearly every day to see her friend in the other
camp. Sometimes she took the birds with her,
and sometimes she left them at home. Dan
and his brother had gone off to a fair in the
neighbourhood, which was to last several days.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One afternoon as she sat with Rhoda under
the trees, a man came towards them from the
tents. He had a long pointed nose, and was
very grandly dressed for a gipsy, for he wore
a bright-coloured scarf and waistcoat and his
fingers were covered with silver rings. Maggie
thought him very nice, for he joined them and
seemed to admire Alfonso very much. The
little cock strutted about, ruffling himself out as
the man watched him. He loved notice. The
gipsy threw him a handful of corn from his
pocket, and when he went off again to the
tents, he kept looking back with a smile.
Rhoda took up her guitar once more for she
had laid it down at his approach, though she was
in the middle of a song.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I never sing to <span class='it'>him</span>,” she said.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was a pleasant time they spent in the fir-woods,
and Maggie began to think there could
be nothing better than life in the caravan. She
loved the open air and the blue mists, the silver
spider webs and the winking eyes of the little
fires that were lit among the trees at night.
She loved the whispering branches and the red
toadstools and the sceptres of tall ragwort,
that were beginning to fade as the days went
by. She did not want to leave the place,
and, besides that, she did not want to leave
Rhoda.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But early one morning, as she was gathering
wood a little way from the van, she glanced up
to find Rhoda standing before her. Her guitar
was under her arm and a little bundle in her
hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I have come to say good-bye,” said she.
“Yes, I am going, and you must not tell anybody.
I can’t stay any more in our camp. I
shall take my guitar and go and make my living
by singing at fairs, as I have done before. So
I’ve come to say good-bye to you first.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie was too much surprised to answer.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is because of the man you saw,” continued
Rhoda, “the man I will not sing for. He
is the richest gipsy in the country, and I hate
him; but he loves me. My mother says I
must marry him. He has given her presents of
money and necklaces and fine clothes, and she
has promised me to him. They don’t know I
have gone, but by to-night I shall be miles
away, and I will never come back. He is the
most hateful man in the world.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And now I shall never see you any more!”
cried Maggie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but I hope you will,” replied Rhoda.
“I like you, and you like me, and when you are
at a fair some day, you’ll hear my guitar, and
come and speak to me and be glad to see me.
You will, won’t you?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And she turned away towards the edge of the
wood, and Maggie went a little distance with
her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“May I tell Dan?” she asked, as they
parted.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Dan knows,” said Rhoda.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then she went away through the tree-stems
into the open country, and Maggie stood at the
outskirts of the wood watching her until she
disappeared among the shorn fields, looking
back and waving her hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was sad for a long time after that. Dan
said nothing of what he knew, and when she
tried to speak to him, he got out of her way.
She did not even tell Alfonso or the Cochin-Chinaman
what had happened; though, to be
sure, it would have been safe enough, for, even
if they had spoken of it, no one but herself
could have understood them. Once she saw
the rich gipsy with the evil face and silver rings
prowling about the vans, which made her so
frightened that she got into one of them and
locked herself in. No one else had seen Rhoda
when she came to say good-bye, and there was
nothing to do but to keep her own counsel and
hope that in time she might meet her friend
again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Cochin-China cock was as happy as
possible. He did not care for high company,
and the few fowls that ran about the van
wheels and travelled together in a basket on the
roof when the family was moving were good
enough for him. He forgot that he had ever
had a wife and family, though he had wept so
loudly when he left them to follow Maggie;
and now he had chosen for a partner a young
speckled hen, who was bewitched by his yellow
trousers and deep voice.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Alfonso, on the contrary, had grown prouder
than ever; and when he discovered that the
man with the gold earrings meant to make a
deal of money by backing him to fight other
cocks in public, he was extremely happy. He
longed for spring to come, for then the vans
were to make a tour through many villages and
towns, and he would have the chance of meeting
all sorts of champions in single combat. He had
found this out through the Cochin-Chinaman,
who was a gossip, and whose new wife told him
everything that went on. But Maggie knew
nothing about it, for Alfonso would not tell her,
and promised to thrash his friend if he did so.
Alfonso knew that if anything were to happen
to himself it would break her heart. Sometimes
his conscience blamed him for deceiving
her, but he did not listen to it; it seemed to
him that he heard the crowing of whole crowds
of upstart birds, and his spurs itched.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It had grown quite cold when the time came
for them to leave the woods. Dan and Maggie
were to go off in the green van at sunrise, and
the woman with her husband and baby were to
follow after midday. Dan knew the place for
their next camp, and he and his companion
were to get everything ready, and have fires
lit and water carried by the time the family
arrived with its belongings and the cocks and
hens.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was a pleasant journey; the roads were
good and the sun shone. They sat with their
feet on the shafts, and Dan talked more than
he had ever talked before. He told Maggie of
his youth and the tents among which he was
born; of his half-Spanish mother, who had died
in the cold of a snowy winter; and of his father,
who had beaten him with a strap till he had
learnt to ride better than any of the other boys.
She heard how he and his brother got enough
money to buy the van and the horses, and how
he had met Rhoda at a great gipsy gathering;
how she had sung ‘The Wind in the Broom’
for him by a camp-fire when all their companions
had gone to sleep; how they had sat till the
morning came and the stars went out like so
many street-lamps in the daylight. Then he
said very little more, and sat with his cap pulled
over his eyes, whistling the tune of ‘The
Wind in the Broom’ till the journey was
done.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They had come to an old quarry cut into the
hollow of a hill-side. Dan unharnessed the
horse, and they began their work. It was
getting dark when they heard approaching
wheels and saw their friends coming up the
winding road. Maggie could hear the Cochin-Chinaman’s
hoarse voice proclaiming his arrival
and distinguish in the dusk the smaller basket
tied on the top step of the van, in which
Alfonso, according to custom, travelled alone.
The Cochin-Chinaman’s wife, who was greedy,
was already making a disturbance and demanding
to know how soon they might expect their
evening meal.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was late by the time Maggie was able to
prepare it. She turned it out in a heap and let
the birds loose. They rushed at it, pushing and
struggling to get the best bits, the speckled
hen screaming to her husband to protect her
from the other hens, and to see that she was
not robbed of her share. Then Maggie took
Alfonso’s little plate, and, putting a few nice
spoonfuls in it, went up the van steps.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But she opened the basket and looked in, to
find that Alfonso was gone.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'> * * * * * </p>
<p class='pindent'>Then indeed there was consternation in the
camp. Maggie’s tears fell fast and heavy down
her cheeks as she sat looking into the empty
basket. The whole family came out at her call
and stood bewailing itself in different ways. The
man with the gold earrings swore, the wife
fixed her dark gaze on her weeping servant, and
Dan hung about trying to comfort Maggie.
But she cared for none of them, and only when
the Cochin-Chinaman hurried from his food to
her side did she dry her eyes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He’s gone! he’s gone!” she wailed, “and
we shall never see him again. O Alfonso!
Alfonso! how I loved you!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The basket was fastened down when you
saw it first, and that shows that someone has
taken him. If he had fallen out it would have
been open,” said Dan.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I took fine care not to let anyone see him,”
observed his brother; “he was too good a bird
to run risks with.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this Maggie started up.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is the man with the silver rings!” she
exclaimed—“the rich gipsy in the wood! Oh, it
is all my fault! If it had not been for me he
would never have seen Alfonso.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And that was the most cruel idea of all.</p>
<p class='pindent'>That night, when everyone was asleep, she
got up and packed her bundle. She was afraid
to say good-bye to her friends for fear she
should be prevented from going to seek her
lost comrade, and she had made up her mind to
leave everything and travel this difficult world
till she should meet him again. She was certain
the wicked-looking gipsy in the wood had
stolen him before the blue van left its
last camping-ground, and she resolved to go
back to the place where they had all been so
happy, to see whether, by some contrivance,
she might steal him from the tents. Perhaps
he was miserable himself, poor Alfonso! She
was broken-hearted as she crept out of the van.
She could make out the heavy figure of the
Cochin-Chinaman roosting with his wife upon a
shaft. He got down and came running to her,
striding and sprawling with his great awkward
legs.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Don’t say a word—I am going to find
Alfonso,” began Maggie. “If anyone hears
me I may be stopped, and then I shall die of
despair. Hush! hush! Don’t open your beak
to screech like that, or they’ll all come out.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You care more for Alfonso than for me,”
wailed the cock, as loudly as he dared. “You
think nothing of bidding good-bye to me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>She could not answer, for she knew it was
true. She loved Alfonso best.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But we shall both come back together,
Alfonso and I,” she replied. “I can leave you
because I know you are quite happy.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad you think so,” replied he. “Never
you marry if you want peace. What that
speckled baggage has made me endure is beyond
all telling!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And I thought you were so comfortably
married!” exclaimed Maggie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what I have gone through!” he went on—“what
I have endured! She is so greedy that
I never get a bite. She is so violent that I
have had to call in help or not keep a feather
on my body. And she has told all the others
that I left the farm we came from because I was
afraid of the bantam cock. She has no heart
and no manners—only claws and a tongue!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then come with me,” said Maggie. “We
shall be very poor, and perhaps starve, but we
shan’t be lonely.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Family life is dreadful,” said the Cochin-Chinaman.
“I’ll come.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>It took many hours to get back to the woods,
and they were both tired and hungry by the
time they saw the long line of dark trees stretching
away before them. Maggie had brought some
food with her, which she shared with her friend;
but they did not dare to eat much, as they had
to make it last as long as possible. They tried
not to think of their bad prospects as they
trudged along. They did not enter the woods
till dusk, for they knew that if the rich gipsy
saw Maggie, he would guess what had brought
her back, and hide Alfonso more carefully
than ever. They found the spot where their
camp had been, and rested there a little before
going into the heart of the wood. Maggie
knew every step of the way, every clump of
yellowing ferns, every trail of bramble, and the
Cochin-Chinaman, who was not observant, was
glad to follow her blindly. When once they
caught sight of the tents, he was to run on
and prowl about in the undergrowth, calling to
Alfonso in his own language. As nobody but
the gamecock would understand what he said,
he was to shout, telling him Maggie was there,
and the two birds were to settle a way of escape.
These were fine schemes, and would, no doubt,
have succeeded beautifully; but alas! and alas!
when they came to the root beside which Rhoda
had sung her songs to Dan, they saw that the
place was empty and the tents gone. The only
traces remaining of the camp were the little
black circles of ashes on the ground, which
showed where the fires had been.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was chilly comfort to think that, if Alfonso
had been stolen only a day ago, the gipsy could
not have gone far. He had horses and carts,
and there was not much chance of overtaking
him for the two poor footsore friends, even if
they knew which way he went. It was too dark
now to see the traces of his wheels on the soft
moss, and they could go no farther that night.
Nevertheless, Maggie would not give up her
quest, and the Cochin-Chinaman, great yellow
booby of a fellow as he was, vowed that he would
never leave her. He blubbered as he said it,
but he meant it, all the same.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When morning broke their hearts were very sad.
Where were they to go? Winter was coming
on, and they had no money and hardly any food,
and unless they begged as they went, there was
nothing they could do for a living. But they
made up their minds either to die or to rescue
their friend, and started at daybreak to follow
the track of footprints and wheel-marks which
took them to the dusty highroad. The cock
picked up all sorts of odds and ends by the way,
and a friendly blacksmith who was eating bread
and cheese at the door of his smithy gave
Maggie a share of it. They slept in an empty
barn that night, and the next day found them
on the outskirts of a little country town.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They were eager to get to it, hoping to hear
news of the gipsy, or to find his tents pitched
in the neighbourhood. The cock had cut his
foot on a piece of broken glass by the roadside,
and was so lame that he could scarcely walk.
He sat on Maggie’s shoulder, but he was so
heavy that he prevented her from getting on
fast. Sometimes she put him down, and he
limped a little way, but she always had to take
him up again. When they reached the first
houses, the people ran out to look at the amusing
sight, and when they heard how the strange
pair of comrades were talking together, they
held up their hands. “Was ever anything like
that seen before?” they cried.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Soon there was quite a crowd. The whole
street turned out to listen, though, of course, no
one could understand a word. Maggie took
the opportunity of explaining that they were
very poor, and asked for some food. A woman
offered them a hunk of bread and a plate of
broken meat, which they took gratefully.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It’s worth while paying for such a show!”
she exclaimed. And everybody agreed with
her, though only a few were willing to put their
hands in their pockets.</p>
<p class='pindent'>All at once a great clatter was heard, and a
running footman came racing along the road,
shouting as he went and pushing people out of
the way with his staff.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Room! room!” he cried. “Make way for
the Lord Bishop’s carriage!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>A splendid open coach came in sight, drawn
by four white horses with purple plumes on their
heads and driven by a gold-laced coachman.
A fine fat Bishop sat in it, dressed in purple.
Gold tassels hung from his hat, and opposite to
him sat a servant armed with a silk pocket-handkerchief
with which to flick the dust of the road
from the episcopal person. Everybody bowed
to the earth.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What is all this crowd for?” demanded the
Bishop, stopping his coach.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When he heard that a girl was to be heard
talking to a Cochin-China cock in his native
tongue, he was immensely surprised, and ordered
Maggie and her companion to come before him.
The woman who had given them meat and
bread pushed her forward.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Your Reverend Holiness will die o’ laughing
to hear them,” she exclaimed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Speak, girl,” said the Bishop. “Address
the bird, and tell him to reply.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When he had heard the conversation that
followed, he could hardly believe his senses.
The servant with the silk handkerchief grinned
from ear to ear, the coachman on his box
turned round to listen, and the footmen who
stood on a board behind the carriage gaped.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are evidently a highly intelligent little
girl,” said the Bishop, “and it is a scandal that
you should be tramping the roads. I have a large
aviary at my palace and you shall come to look
after it. I really never thought to find a person
who could speak to birds. Some of mine are
very tiresome, and you will be able to make
them hear reason. I will see that you are
properly clothed and educated.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But Maggie refused, and explained that she
was going to seek Alfonso.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Tut, tut, tut!” said the Bishop. “If the
cock is as valuable as you say, he will be well
cared for. You will have a good education at
my palace, and be clean and tidy.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I don’t want to be clean and tidy, and
I shouldn’t like to live in a palace,” cried
Maggie.</p>
<p class='pindent'>All the servants tittered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Nonsense!</span>” said the Bishop. “Everyone
wants to be clean and tidy, and everyone would
like to live in a palace.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I can’t!” exclaimed Maggie—“indeed
I can’t!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“There is no such word as ‘can’t’ in the
English language,” said the Bishop.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come! come!” said Maggie to the Cochin-Chinaman,
“we must get away as quick as we
can!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Bishop could not understand what she
said, but he saw she was preparing to run.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I fear you are one of the many people who
do not know what is good for them,” said he.
“Get into the carriage immediately. The footmen
will help you in, and you may sit opposite
to me.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And before you could count ten they had
sprung from their places, opened the door, and
lifted her in. With a hoarse agonized screech
the Cochin-Chinaman leaped up and flew heavily
into the coach. He came through the air like
a cannon-ball.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Really, this is too much!” exclaimed the
Bishop. “I cannot be made ridiculous by
having this creature sitting in front of me as we
go through the streets.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He is the only friend I have got left,”
sobbed poor Maggie, bursting into tears as
the footmen tried to seize the cock’s legs.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Bishop was far from being an unkind
man; indeed, he had a great reputation for
charity, both public and private.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Tut, tut!” he said; “let him come. But he
can’t sit there opposite to me. Put him under
the seat.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so Maggie, thankful to keep him at
any price, stuffed him underneath, and pressed
her feet against him, to comfort him. The
footmen were inexpressibly shocked. Then
they all drove off to the palace.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The palace was a truly imposing place, with
cupolas and courts, porches and statues; and,
being outside the town, it was approached by
an avenue a mile long. A wide stream flowed
round one side of it, and the great entrance
gates were covered with crests and glorious
devices. Behind it was an aviary full of bright-coloured
birds, who screamed and fought and
made such a terrible din that, when the carriage
drew up, the Cochin-Chinaman was taken from
under the seat trembling. Maggie was shown
a hut which she was to inhabit, built in a little
remote yard, and an old chicken-coop was
brought and filled with straw to make a bed for
the cock. The Bishop ordered that food should
be given them, and told Maggie she was to
begin her duties on the morrow.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She did not like her place at all. The birds
in the aviary were nearly all foreign, so she did
not know their language; and those she could
understand were rude and turbulent, and made
the most heartless jokes about the poor Cochin-Chinaman’s
yellow trousers. But there was no
use in grumbling. The Bishop was determined
that she should stay and look after the aviary;
he disapproved of vagrants and gipsies, and had
settled that she was to be brought up respectably.
She could not get away, because she was
never allowed to leave the place alone; so she
consoled herself by thinking that, as winter was
at hand, she would be likely to starve were she
still tramping the road; and then she would
certainly never see Alfonso again.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so time went by and she lived at the
palace, feeding and tending the foreign birds,
and cheered by the company of her faithful
comrade, who grew fat on the crumbs from the
Bishop’s kitchen and took care not to display
his yellow trousers within sight of the aviary.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Soon it grew bitterly cold. The snow fell, and
Christmas came and went; and then, at last, the
young New Year grew strong, and birds began
to sing and trees to bud. The little yard in which
the hut stood was surrounded by an ivy-covered
wall with a small iron gate in it, and through
the latter she could see the ground slope down
to the still, wide stream that passed the palace
like a crawling silver snake.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The bars of the gate were firm in their places,
for she had tried them all and they would not
move; they were so closely set that she could
not squeeze herself out between them. She
would press her face against them, looking out
enviously at every passing insect that was free.
In the wood over the water squirrels jumped
about, or sat up like little begging dogs, with
their tails over their heads. The Cochin-Chinaman
could fly out of the yard, but what was
the use of that when he could not take her with
him? She would sit by the gate while he
stood on the top of the wall describing to her
all the things he could see.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One spring afternoon, as they passed their
time thus, a sound of music came floating
from some distance. It was very faint,
but as it drew nearer Maggie sprang up,
crying to the cock to fly out and see what it
could mean.</p>
<p class='pindent'>For the tune was the tune of “The Wind in
the Broom.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Nearer and nearer it came. She could faintly
hear the words. “Gold broom, with your
flowers in bloom,” sang the voice.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The cock leaped down, and, running and
flying, he rushed along the green banks of the
stream as hard as he could. The town was
behind him at the far side of the palace, so he
was molested by no one; and there, sure
enough, coming to meet him at the water-side,
was Rhoda with her guitar slung on her
shoulder. Oh, how he longed to speak! but,
as she could not understand his talk, there
was no use in saying anything. But he took
her by the skirts and began dragging her
along.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are Maggie’s Cochin-Chinaman!” she
cried.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He hurried on before her, and she followed
as fast as she could run.</p>
<p class='pindent'>How delighted the two friends were at
meeting again! Rhoda stood outside the gate,
and Maggie held her hand through the bars,
and they told each other all that had happened
since they parted.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I will get you away from here, see if I
don’t!” said Rhoda. “Then we will start off
together to find Alfonso, for I can make enough
to keep us all by singing. I am quite rich
already.” She pulled a little bag out of her
bosom.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Feel how heavy it is,” she said.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last Rhoda went away. She said that
she would not return till she had thought of a
good plan for Maggie’s escape, and she commanded
the cock to roost every night on the
yard wall; for she would come back under
cover of night, and wake him by throwing up
a stone at him when her plan was ready.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Rhoda was very clever—the making of
songs and music was not the only thing she
understood. When she found that the iron
gate was fastened by a bolt, and that the bolt
was held in its place by a padlock, she went off
to the town and bought a file, and next night
she returned and began to saw away. She did
it from the outside, so that no one who might
chance to come into the yard could see any
mark on the bolt. When morning came it was
cut through all but a little piece. Up the
stream, a short way above the palace, was a
house whose walls stood almost in the water,
and near it a little boat was moored to a
stake in the bank. This boat she determined
should carry them all out of the Bishop’s
reach.</p>
<p class='pindent'>On the second night, therefore, when it was
dark, and she guessed the palace people were
in bed, she came stealing along to the gate.
There was the cock at his post, fast asleep.
When she had filed through the last bit of the
bolt, she woke him with a stone, and signed
to him to go and fetch Maggie. Then she ran
to the boat, cut its rope with her knife, and,
jumping into it, rowed quickly down to where
her friends were waiting.</p>
<p class='pindent'>How smoothly and how fast the water carried
them along, as they ran into the current and
the tall mass of the palace dropped behind
them! Rhoda had the oars, and the cock sat
in the bottom of the boat beside the guitar.
Maggie was so much delighted to be free that
she did not speak a word. The fields and the
alder-trees slipped by, and when the spring
day broke, she saw the tufts on the willows
and the yellow stars of the celandines shining
among the roots. She felt quite sure now
that everything would go right.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The whole day they rowed on, and when
they thought themselves far enough from the
Bishop to be safe, they jumped on shore and
let the boat drift out of sight. Then they
started off to seek their fortunes once more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was a hard life they led as they roamed
the country, but they were contented with it.
They got enough money to keep themselves
from want by Rhoda’s singing, and the cock
contrived to pick up many scraps by the way.
They went to every village they saw, and
every town; at every fair or market they were
to be seen, Rhoda with her guitar and Maggie
searching up and down for news of the rich
gipsy and his tents. As the months went by
she began to despair, but she never faltered or
forgot Alfonso.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One day they were approaching a little
hamlet, and, as they were within sight of its
roofs, groups of people passed them. Men
wore their best coats and women their best
gowns; little children ran along with holiday
faces, and horses and cattle went by in droves.
The horses had their tails plaited up with
coloured ribbons, and some had roses stuck
in their brow-bands, for it was the day of a
great fair and all sorts of shows and amusements
were going on.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The road was full of people. Just in front
of Rhoda and Maggie some men were plodding
along, laughing and joking, and one of them
turned round, calling to another, who lagged
behind the party.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come on! come on!” he shouted. “You’ll
have to step out if you want to see the cock-fight.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie followed at their heels like a dog.
They thought she meant to beg and told her
roughly to go away. But she took no notice,
and ran after them, listening breathlessly to their
talk, for they were speaking of the wonderful
game-bird belonging to a gipsy who had beaten
every cock in the countryside. To-day he was
to fight the greatest champion of all, a bird
which had been brought fifty miles to meet
him. One of the men pulled out a large silver
watch the size of an apple. It came up from
his pocket like a bucket out of a well.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We’re too late!” he exclaimed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And they all began to run.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie and Rhoda ran too. And the
Cochin-Chinaman straddled and flapped after
them, raising a trail of dust and volleys of abuse
from everyone he passed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>By the time they reached the village a great
crowd were dispersing in all directions. It was
chiefly made up of men, and, as our friends
pushed through the throng, scraps of conversation
came to their ears.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>He’ll</span> never fight again,” said one.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That’ll take down the pride of that gipsy
fellow, with his money-bags and his rings,” said
another.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie ran faster and faster till she came to
an open space that had been cleared in the
middle of the village green. A man was
walking off with a cock in his arms, while a
string of people followed, clapping him on the
back and shouting. They were all leaving the
spot where the long-nosed gipsy stood staring
at something that lay at his foot. It looked
like a bundle of rags as he rolled it over with
his boot. “He’s no more use to me,” said he,
turning away with a shrug of his shoulders, “so
he can die if he likes.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Maggie threw herself down and took poor
Alfonso in her arms. Blood was oozing from
between his beautiful feathers, and his eyes were
closed. Nobody noticed her as she carried him
away, followed by Rhoda and the Cochin-Chinaman.
Her tears were falling thick on
him, blinding her, so that she could hardly see
where she was going, and she almost ran into a
dark young man who was coming towards them.
It was Dan—Dan, with his gold earrings and
rabbit-skin cap. Rhoda poured out the story of
their search to him, and he took them to a pond,
where he poured water down Alfonso’s throat
and felt his breast to see if his heart was still
beating.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Run and meet my brother,” he said to
Rhoda; “our vans are just coming into the
village. Tell him from me to go and settle
with that long-nosed thief. I’ll come and help
him when I see whether Alfonso’s dead or not.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So Rhoda ran.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And now we are coming to the end of the
story. Alfonso was not dead, and he did not
die; he was nursed back to life by Dan and
Maggie; but he never fought again, for his back
was dreadfully injured, and he was lame for the
rest of his days. The three friends returned to
their old life in the vans, for Maggie had been
much missed, and was received back with joy.
Neither was Rhoda left behind, because she
soon became Dan’s wife and went to live with
him in the green van.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Cochin-Chinaman married again, but
this time with better luck; for he chose a good
dame of suitable age, who knew the world far too
well to wish to quarrel with anyone in it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And Alfonso, in spite of his crippled body,
was not unhappy. He limped round the van wheels
or sat in his basket on the step, looking
out on the green woods and blue distances of
their various places of sojourn. His fighting
days were done, but he was well content; for
those who have taken their share in life are
those who can best bear to see it go by and
accept their rest.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap06'>THE FIDDLING GOBLIN</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>One day they were in the miller’s garden. He
had white rose-bushes on either side of his door
and a box-tree by the gate.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Here is the book!” cried little Peter, who
had dashed into the house, and now came
dancing out with the volume in his hand. “I’ve
been peeping inside, and there is such a fine
bit about a man beating a big drum.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You rascal!” said the miller. “Who told
you you might touch my book? I shall put you
into the mill-pond for that!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he began to chase the little boy about,
shouting and jumping over the flower-beds. It
was really splendid.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Janet stood by laughing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Be quiet, Peter, or you’ll drop the book!”
she exclaimed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If he promises to read about the drum-man
I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” shrieked Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I promise, I promise,” said the miller, stopping
beside a row of cabbages.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So when Peter gave him the book and had
settled down to listen, he began.</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='pindent'>There was once upon a time a widowed Baron
who had a lovely daughter. She was so beautiful
that she seldom went out of the castle gates,
because people stared at her so much that it
made her quite uncomfortable. Her name was
Laurine, and she could dance so wonderfully
that she looked more like an autumn leaf sailing
in the wind than a human being. Her chestnut
hair floated all round her, and her grey eyes
shone like stars through a mist.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, in spite of all this, the Baron, who was
only her stepfather, was most anxious to get
rid of her by marriage, for he was a lazy old
man, and did not like the trouble of looking
after her; he liked to have his own house to
himself. He let this be known far and wide, and
the very greatest Princes and gentlemen came
courting Laurine, which gave him more trouble
than ever, for she persisted in refusing every
one, and the expenses of their entertainment
went, consequently, for nothing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last he could stand it no longer, and one
morning, after a whole batch of suitors had been
turned away, he sent for her to his room. He
was sitting up in bed looking frightfully angry,
and when she came in he roared and beat
his cane on the bed-clothes. He always took
it to bed with him, so that he might bang the
servants if they made too much noise when they
called him in the morning.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter, sir?” asked Laurine,
making a very pretty curtsey.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Matter!” shouted the Baron; “the matter
is that I’m tired of you and your airs, and I
have made up my mind to stand them no longer.
Married you shall be. I am going to give out
a notice to be posted up everywhere that, in
ten days from now, the first twelve gentlemen
who send in their names to me are to come here,
bringing a musical instrument each; and the
one who plays best shall have your hand in
marriage. Now, it’s no good crying. I have
made up my mind, and the messenger carrying
the news shall go out to-day. You have had
the choice of all the grandest persons in the
country, and now you must just take what you
can get. So get out of my sight!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he laid about so furiously that Laurine
burst into tears. This time she was at her wits’
end, and could not think what to do.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my lady!” said her maid when she
heard what had happened, “you must get advice
from a Goblin I know. He is the cleverest
person in the whole countryside, and he will be
able to find some way out of it. Only say the
word, and I will go at once to fetch him.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Go! go!” cried Laurine.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, in a wood not far off lived a Goblin
who was well known to his neighbours as one
of the finest musicians in the world. He was
rich too, and it was said that he had a grander
house than the King himself hidden in the heart
of the wood. But, for all that, he generally
chose to live in a little thatched hut near the
edge of the trees, playing on his fiddle and
coming occasionally into the village, where he
was greatly honoured for his wisdom in spite of
his strange appearance. He was only about
four feet high and quite black; but he had thin
legs and arms, a round, fat body and a head
like a turnip. In spite of this he dressed in
the very height of the fashion, with a pointed
hat and feather, doublet and hose and a
short cloak. He was called ‘The Fiddling
Goblin.’</p>
<p class='pindent'>He entered Laurine’s presence with a low
bow, though he was rather out of breath; for
when he had received the message from the
waiting-woman, he had made the large billy-goat
which he rode gallop the whole way. It was
a magnificent animal, with an action like a
horse, and the men who took charge of it when
he dismounted in the courtyard were lost in
admiration of his handsome saddlery. It was
easy to see he was a man of note.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What you must do is this,” said the
Goblin, when Laurine had finished her story:
“As soon as you hear the names of the twelve
suitors, write privately to each one. I will
compose the letter for you, and this is what
you must say:</p>
<div class='blockquote'>
<p class='noindent'>‘<span class='sc'>Sir</span>,</p>
<p class='pindent'>‘Being extremely anxious for your success—,
I am writing to give you a piece of
important advice. My stepfather has offered
my hand to the finest musician; but his <span class='it'>real</span>
purpose is to give it to the one who will play
loudest and longest, and most effectually drown
the efforts of the rest. Therefore, I beg you,
if you love me, to play stoutly against all others,
and, whatever anyone may say or do, neither
stay nor stop till you have silenced them all.’</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>“Then,” continued the Goblin, “the noise
will be so frightful that the illustrious Baron,
who is irritable, will drive the whole party out
of the house, and meanwhile you can escape in
the turmoil. If you will come to my hut I will
take you to a palace I have, deep in the wood,
where you can hide till his wrath is over.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Laurine was charmed with his wisdom, and
having given him a lock of her hair as a keepsake,
dismissed him with many words of
gratitude, promising to do exactly as he had
said.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, it happened that there lived at some
little distance off a young man of good parentage
who had fallen madly in love with Laurine.
He was brave and handsome, but he was so
poor that he had never come forward as a suitor,
believing that the Baron would not so much
as receive him. When he heard of the proclamation
he tore his hair.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What a chance I’ve missed!” he cried. “If
I could play even a shepherd’s pipe I would go.
But I cannot so much as do that.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You have got ten days to learn in,” said a
friend of his, who was practical.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So he bought a pipe and began to take
lessons from the man who kept the sheep, and
one day when he was practising Laurine’s
letter was brought to him. He was simply
overjoyed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I may be a poor musician!” he exclaimed,
“but I have the strongest arm for miles round,
and now it will stand me in good stead!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And with that he rushed off to the nearest
town and bought a big drum, the biggest that
could be got for money; and, going into a
solitary field, he laid about it daily, for practice,
with such effect that people for miles round
were deafened.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the great day came, Laurine sat in
state beside her stepfather and all the musicians
were ranged in a row a little way in front of
them. There were fiddles and flutes, trumpets
and harps, dulcimers and guitars and the big
drum in the middle.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the Baron had taken his seat, he made
a sign to a man who had a large golden harp to
begin. But no sooner was the first chord
struck than the whole assembly burst into
sound with a stupendous crash. The fiddlers
sawed their fiddles as though they would cut
them to pieces, the trumpeters blew and brayed,
the flutes shrieked, the harps and dulcimers
twanged, and the young man with the drum fell
upon it as though it had been his enemy. The
Baron leaped up and roared for silence, but his
voice might have been the cooing of a distant
dove for all the good it did. The noise grew
more and more terrible, and at the first convenient
opportunity Laurine put her hands
over her ears and rushed from the hall.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Away she ran through the courtyard. It was
empty, because everybody had gone to see
what the awful disturbance could mean, and
the castle gates were open. She flew out like
an arrow, taking the shortest way to the wood
and rushing along with her hair streaming
behind her, and at last she came to the hut
where the Goblin lived; she never stopped till
she got safely into it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Did I not give you sound advice?” said he
as she sat down, breathless.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, excellent,” she replied, panting. “By
this time I am sure my stepfather has driven
the whole lot out of doors.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And now I must hide you away,” said the
Fiddling Goblin, stepping out of the door and
searching the country up and down with his
rolling eye.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As soon as she had recovered her breath
they plunged into the wood. Dusk was beginning
to fall, for the musical competition had
taken place late in the evening. At last they
came to a place where there was nothing but
horse-chestnut trees in full bloom. The Goblin
struck his heel upon the ground, and, to
Laurine’s astonishment, the white flowers of
the chestnuts on either side became suddenly
lit up, looking like so many blazing candles on
so many Christmas trees.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The avenue of light stretched away before
them, narrowing to the distance, and when
they had walked to the end of it, they found
themselves in front of a magnificent mansion
with a high steep roof covered with golden
weathercocks. “This is my house,” observed
the Goblin, “and here you will be a welcome
guest for as long as you like. No one can find
the path to it unless I light up the horse-chestnut
candles to show the way, so you will
be perfectly safe from your stepfather.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the door was opened Laurine found
herself in a beautiful hall. There were golden
staircases, woven curtains, groves of myrtle-trees
in pots; and servants came from every
corner of the place to wait upon her. The
Fiddling Goblin told her to use everything as
though it were her own, and then left her,
promising to return upon the morrow.</p>
<p class='pindent'>We must now return to the Baron’s castle,
and hear what happened after Laurine’s flight.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The noise went on without intermission: the
more the Baron raved, the more furiously the
musicians played. It seemed as though the
howling deep and all the thunder of the firmament
were let loose together. The air was
alive with vibration and everyone rushed about
in terror, as though he were crazy. As the
pandemonium grew the young man with the
big drum began to be depressed, for the sound
of his drum was getting swallowed up in the
shrill blare of the trumpets. But he set his
teeth and went on harder and harder, and at
last he struck it with such violence that it
broke in two and the drumstick went right
through at one end and came out at the
other.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was no use in going on any more;
he was vanquished, and all hope of winning
the beautiful Laurine was gone. In despair he
threw the remaining drumstick to the farther
end of the hall and strode out of the castle
to avoid his sad thoughts and the terrific noise
that still raged. Once clear of the place, he
sat down on a stone, and, burying his head
in his hands, thought of all he had lost. He
determined to leave the country and seek his
fortune far away from the scene of his disappointment;
so when he got up, he walked
straight forward, without caring where he went,
and soon found himself on the edge of a wood.
It was growing dark, and he wandered on,
meaning to take the first shelter that offered
itself for the night.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A little way on was a thatched hut, and
when he saw that the door was open and the
place empty, he went in. He scarcely troubled
to look about, he was so weary, and soon he
threw himself down full-length on the hearth
and fell asleep.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was about midnight when he awoke with
a start and saw the Fiddling Goblin sitting
on a chair by the fire, preparing to tune his
violin. He arose at once, and began to
apologize to him for his presence.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Don’t mention it,” said the Goblin, “and
pray sit down again. I will play you a tune
upon the fiddle.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, anything but that!” cried the young
man, leaping up in horror. “I have heard so
much noise to-day that the very sight of any
musical instrument is death to me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then you are one of the suitors who came
to play before the Baron for the hand of the
beautiful Laurine!” exclaimed the Goblin.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I am indeed,” replied he, “and why I am
not dead I don’t know.” And then he told
him the whole story. They talked almost till
daybreak.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Now, as the Goblin listened he began to
like the young man, and as he saw how brave
and handsome he looked, he had a mind to
help him; for he thought the best thing that
could happen to Laurine would be to get such
a fine fellow for a husband.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Don’t despair,” said he, at the end of the
history. “I think I can do you a good turn, for
I must tell you that Laurine is at my big house
not far from here at this moment. Does she
know you by sight?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I hardly think so,” replied the young man.
“I have often watched her as she walks abroad,
but I don’t think she has ever noticed me.
There was such a crowd in the hall while the
music went on, and such a turmoil, that, as I
was behind the drum, it is likely she never saw
me at all. And yet she wrote to me as if she
had every wish I should succeed. I can’t
understand it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Goblin looked so sly that it was
frightful to see him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he continued, “to-morrow I am
going to my house, and she will be there. If
you have a mind for it, I will take you with
me, and you will then have the chance of
making yourself agreeable.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You are too kind!” cried his companion;
“but on what pretext can I intrude on her?
She has probably repented of her letter.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“As she does not know you by sight, I will
say you are my nephew,” replied the Goblin;
“so mind you call me ‘uncle.’ You can address
me as Uncle Sackbut. We are a musical family,
and all named after instruments. One of my
brothers is called Shawm and the other
Hautboy. What is your name?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Swayn,” said the young man.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Very well, Nephew Swayn,” said the Goblin,
“to-morrow we will set out.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they arrived at the Goblin’s house,
Swayn was astonished at its magnificence; but
he had no time to think of anything but
Laurine, and to hope that, if she had ever seen
him, she would not recognize him. He could
not imagine why she had not so much as looked
his way after writing such a condescending
letter. But the Goblin bade him keep up
heart, and in they went.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was sitting among the myrtles when
they approached, and the Goblin introduced
his friend, being careful not to mention his
name.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“This is my nephew,” said he, “my sister’s
only son. He has come to pay me a visit,
and as I have no room for him in my hut, I
propose that we shall both keep you company
here.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Laurine received them in the most charming
manner, and so much pleased was the Goblin
that he spent all day in practising his fiddle,
so that the young people should be left together.
In this manner two whole weeks went by.
They spent a delightful time, and Swayn grew
more hopeful every day. They strolled in the
gardens, they hunted in the woods, and it was
evident that Laurine looked upon him with
great favour.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One morning he and the Goblin were
together on a terrace where there was a little
green arbour.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Swayn,” said the Goblin, “it is high time
that you asked Laurine to marry you. I think
so well of you that I mean to leave you this
house when I die, though you are not my
nephew at all; and while I live you can stay
here with me, whether you have a wife or not.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Sackbut,” said Swayn, “I can hardly
believe such good fortune! How little I
thought when I threw away my drumstick and
left the Baron’s castle what luck was in store
for me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>At this moment there was a movement in
the arbour, and Laurine, who was in it and
had heard every word they said, came rushing
out.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And so you are not the Goblin’s nephew
at all?” she cried. “And you are one of those
horrible musicians who came to play? I will
go away at once!” she shrieked. “I will
never see you again! I will not stay here
another hour!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then she turned to the Goblin. “Good-bye,”
she said. “Never, never will I forgive
you for deceiving me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And, before they could stop her, she had
rushed out of the garden into the wood.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They ran after her, they shouted, they called,
they implored—nothing was of any use. She
fled so swiftly that they could not even see
which path she had taken. At last, after a
long time, they gave up the search. They felt
very much crestfallen.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We shall never see her again, I fear,” said
the Goblin; “she has gone back to the Baron’s
castle, and the best thing we can do is to try
and think of something else. We have made
a terrible mess of it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“As for me,” said Swayn, “it is not so easy
to think of something else as you fancy. I
shall go off and try to better my fortunes elsewhere.
What I am to do I don’t know. It
is a sad thing that I am a gentleman, for I
have learnt no trade, and now, though I have
every will to work, there is nothing I can do.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I have a good mind to come with you,”
remarked the Goblin. “I can always return
here if I get tired of it, and we can pass for
uncle and nephew still. I’ll take my fiddle,
and we will make our living by it. You can
play the drum.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“They won’t go well together,” said Swayn
moodily.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What of that?” cried the Goblin. “Very
few people have any ear for music. You’ll see—they’ll
be delighted, and pay us well.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So next day the two comrades set out
together. The Goblin locked up his house,
put his fiddle in a bag, and when Swayn had
procured a new drum, they left the wood by
its farther edge and made for the boundary of
the kingdom, which was not far off.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At the first village they came to they determined
to try their luck, so, having found the
village green, the Fiddling Goblin mounted the
steps of the market-cross, and struck up with
his bow, while Swayn, at a little distance, kept
time with the drum. Soon figures began to
appear at every door, and women left their
houses and men their work; children came
capering up, and everybody’s feet could be
seen tapping the ground. When the Goblin
at the market-cross saw that, he stood on
tiptoe, and looking round with a shout, burst
into the fastest country dance he could think
of. In one moment the whole crowd was
stamping, chasséing, and pirouetting to the
music, seizing one another round the waist,
and swaying like corn in the wind. On and
on they played, till the Goblin had lost his hat
and Swayn’s arm ached, and the people were
whirling round in fours and sixes together
instead of in couples. It was as if the whole
world had gone mad. When at last the
Goblin stopped and signed to his friend to
go round and ask for money, it poured in so
handsomely that they were able to go to the
nearest inn and take the best lodgings to be got.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they looked out next morning, there
was a crowd under their windows.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Come out! come out!” cried the people.
“Come out and play!” Their feet were going
already at the very recollection of the music.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the friends set up again at the market-cross
and played as they had done before;
and from far and wide, people, hearing of their
fame, came pouring into the village to dance.
No work was done, and none of the children
were sent to school, for their parents were too
busy dancing to attend to the matter. Besides
which, the schoolmaster had taken to his bed,
having sprained his ankle in hopping and
skipping.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“We must depart,” said the Goblin, “or
everyone will go crazy.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So they rose in the night and made off, while
the world was snoring after its exertions. They
went travelling on towards a great city, and
at each village they made enough money to
lodge well; but they were always obliged to
leave secretly in the night, because the people
would never consent to their departure.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they got to the capital their fame had
run before them, and even the very King and
Queen were at the palace windows to see them
arrive. By twelve o’clock next day the Lord
Mayor and his family had made themselves so
ridiculous by the way in which they had kicked
their legs about that the King was displeased, and
ordered the music and dancing to be stopped.
He could not hear the music himself, because
his business room was in the centre of the
palace, and the walls were thick.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But when the decree went out, there rose
such a howl of rage that the Court feared a
rebellion. People were rushing about in bands,
crying: “Down with the King! Down with
the palace! Down with everybody! Hurray
for the Fiddling Goblin! Three cheers for the
Big Drum!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The end of it was that the soldiers were
called out, and Swayn and the Goblin were
thrown into prison. The Lord Mayor, whose
antics had done so much harm, took charge
of the drum and the fiddle and locked them
up in the town-hall, and peace reigned once
more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And now we must hear something of what
happened to Laurine when she ran away from
the Goblin’s house in such a hurry.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She found it very difficult to get free of the
wood, but she did so at last, and, by good
fortune, came out on the side nearest to her
stepfather’s castle. But when she arrived there
the first thing she saw was the Baron himself
looking out of a high window. At the sight
of her he began to shout with fury and to beat
the window-sill with his cane, just as he had
beaten the bed-clothes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Off!” he roared, “hussy that you are! I
have done with you. I have found out all
about you. Not content with being the plague
of my life, you encouraged all these knaves
to break my head with their detestable noise,
and I have been at death’s door ever since.
Off you go, or I will let loose the dogs! You
will soon see what a mistake you have made in
refusing all these husbands, for you will have
to get your own living as best you can.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And he drew in his head, banging the
window till the iron bars rattled.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Laurine turned to go, trembling, for she
could hear the dogs which were kept to chase
away beggars howling inside the gates. She
dared not even beg a piece of bread from the
servants, and she knew she could never find
her way back to the Goblin’s house.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She turned sadly away and wandered on till
sundown, when a charitable peasant-woman in
a village shared her supper with her, and
allowed her to rest in a barn when night came
on. But Laurine could not sleep for thinking
how she was to save herself from starving and
what she could do to earn enough to keep
herself alive. If she were to offer to work
as a servant, people would laugh at her white
hands and delicate ways.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The next day, before she departed, she
thanked the woman, and said: “Now I will
do something to amuse you and your children,
for it is all the payment I can make.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so saying, she began to dance.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Never had anybody seen anything like her
dancing; the village people thought she must
be a fairy and were almost afraid to go near
her. She gathered up her hair in both hands,
whirling it round and round her like a scarf;
her feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground.
It was wonderful. Everyone came to look on.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It so chanced that there passed by a fine
chariot, in which sat a red-faced, crooked old
lady, very grandly dressed; and when the
dame beheld the crowd, she let down her
window and shouted to her coachman to stop,
that she might see the dancing. At the end of
the performance she threw Laurine a purse.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Here, girl!” she cried, “that is for you if
you will come with me. I am going to give
a great feast to-morrow night, and want some
new entertainment for my guests. Get in
quickly, if you have a mind to come, for I can’t
waste any more time here. The whole of the
nobility are coming to the party, and I have
a great deal to arrange.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Laurine picked up the purse, thankful for
such luck, and they drove away to the nearest
city.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As soon as they got there, Laurine, who was
determined to do her best, took some gold
pieces from the purse and went out to see the
merchants’ wares. She bought the most
beautiful dress that could be got for money,
a girdle of jasmine, a long veil covered with
spangles and a pair of golden shoes. Then
she came back and practised all the steps she
could think of, so as to be perfect in them by
evening.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The feast was gorgeous. Several Kings
came to it, and even one aged Emperor, who
was so much startled by the thunder of applause
that he was carried out for dead. The dancing
was the talk of the city from end to end, and
the only dreadful part of it was that the lady
who had given the entertainment grew jealous
because no one talked of her and her hospitality,
while every tongue was wagging about the
lovely dancer.</p>
<p class='pindent'>But Laurine cared very little; she knew that
her fortune was made, and she determined to
leave the place and travel about, dancing at
the various towns through which she passed.
When she had taken leave of the lady she
set out.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Wherever she went, crowds came to see her
dance and criers went before her to tell people
what a treat was in store for them. Her
stepfather, hearing news of her success, sent
a messenger after her, commanding her to
return, for he wished to share in her grandeur;
but she only laughed, and pursued her way.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last she drew near the capital city in which
Swayn and the Goblin were imprisoned, and the
whole place was in a shiver of excitement at
her approach. When she got there a deputation
waited on her, bringing all the town
musicians with it, that she might chose the best
among them to play for her dancing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>One after another, she refused them all.
There was not one she considered good enough
to be of any use; and she grew quite impatient,
saying she would depart next day without
dancing at all unless something very much
better could be found.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Madam,” said the Lord Mayor, “it is quite
true we have nobody fit to accompany your
ladyship, except a young man and a Goblin,
who are, unfortunately, in prison; but if we
could get the King to release them so that
they could play for you, they could be put back
into prison afterwards quite easily.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the heads of the city appealed to the
King, and as the King was extremely anxious
to see Laurine, he made no difficulty about the
matter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Certainly, certainly,” said he; “you can
release the Goblin and his nephew at once.
We can always execute them if they are troublesome
afterwards.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so Swayn and his pretended uncle were
taken out of prison and set to play in the courtyard
of the house where Laurine lodged, that
she might judge of their talents.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That will do beautifully,” said she. “I
will dance at nine o’clock this evening.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But she did not think of looking out of the
window.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Nine o’clock came, and the crowd was
assembled; and when she saw who the
musicians were, she was almost too much
annoyed and astonished to begin. But there
sat the King with the Queen in her best robes,
and all the lords of the kingdom, and she was
not sure that they would not throw her into
prison too were she to disappoint them. So
she gave a sign to the Goblin to strike up, and,
whirling her spangled veil, began to glide
about like the shadows on a windy moonlit
night.</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill005.jpg' alt='Woman dances with veil.' id='img05' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“WHIRLING HER SPANGLED VEIL, SHE BEGAN TO GLIDE ABOUT.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>By the time she had finished, the whole
court was spellbound and she herself almost in
tears from excitement, the Goblin had played
so rapturously. Gold was showered upon her,
flowers were thrown to her in basketfuls, and
the King whipped off his crown, dug out the
biggest ruby with his pocket-knife, and
presented it to her himself.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Now then!” cried the head of the police to
the Goblin, “back to prison with you! And
tell that fierce-looking nephew of yours to go
quietly, or it will be the worse for him!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If you will come with me as my musician,”
said Laurine, “I will beg the King on my
knees to let you go. I have never danced to
such playing in my life. Will you come?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Not without Swayn,” said the Goblin.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I hate the drum,” said Laurine.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Then he need not play it,” replied he.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And I don’t want <span class='it'>him</span>,” continued Laurine.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is both or neither,” said the Goblin.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh, very well, then,” said she, turning away.
“He can come as my servant.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>So she went to the King the very next day,
and the King, seeing an excellent chance of
getting rid of the prisoners without the expenses
of an execution, consented.</p>
<p class='pindent'>So the Lord Mayor gave the Goblin back his
fiddle, and the three set out on their travels
together.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Sackbut tells me that you object to the
drum,” said Swayn to Laurine, “so I’ll leave it
behind, and I shall have all the more time to
attend upon you.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Certainly he made a most valuable servant.
He cleaned her little gold shoes, he
robbed all the jasmine-bushes to make her
girdles, and when anyone annoyed her, he
looked so big and fierce that people were only
too glad to get out of the way.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They travelled about for a whole year, and
Laurine was beginning to be tired of such a
restless life. When they came to a grim-looking
town built on a rushing river, she made up her
mind to dance there for the last time; for the
Goblin had begged her to return with him to
his house in the wood, and she had promised to
do so. Swayn was to come too, for there was
no doubt that it was impossible to get on without
him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Patience,” said the Goblin to him, “and all
will come right.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Patience is a long word,” replied Swayn.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As they approached the town gates a crowd
of sour-looking men came out to meet them
with fierce eyes and frowning faces.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“You need not come here, thinking to
bewitch us with light ways and mountebank
tricks,” they said to Laurine. “We have
heard about you, and we know that you
are a witch!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“A witch! a witch!” they shouted.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Why,” cried someone in the crowd, “she
has even got a Goblin for her musician!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then they all began to cry “Witch! witch!”
at the top of their voices, till she could hardly
hear herself speak. And in a moment they
had surrounded her and were dragging her
away.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Oh! how the poor Goblin stamped and
raved! but, unfortunately, he was too small
to hurt anyone much. Swayn began knocking
down everybody he could reach, but there were
so many that he was soon overpowered.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is the witch we want! It is the witch we
want!” cried the people.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The crowd turned back to the town. Some
seized Laurine by the wrists, and some by her
long hair, and the rest held her companions
while they hurried her through the city gates,
leaving them outside. Then the doors were
locked, and they lost sight of her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>As Laurine was dragged along the streets,
a very good idea came into her head. She
was quite sure that, by hook or by crook,
Swayn would try to rescue her, so she managed
to pluck the flowers from her jasmine girdle,
and to drop them behind her as she went,
that he might see which way she had gone;
and when there were no more left, she plucked
off the leaves, and dropped them too. Just
when the very last leaf was gone, they came
to a little stone cell built by the parapet of the
city wall, where it was low and overlooked the
river. Into this dreadful place they thrust her,
turning the key in the great lock, and calling
to her that they would come in the morning to
drown her in the water below. One man was
left to stand outside and guard the door, and
he tied the large key to his belt.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was quite dark in the cell, for only a little
light could come in at a barred window, whose
sill she could just reach by standing on tiptoe.
Poor Laurine wept bitterly when she thought
that she was going to be drowned next morning,
and she cried all the more when she
remembered how unkind she had been to
Swayn, and how much he loved her. She
wished she had not been so cruel. How
often she had thrown her gold slippers at him
and told him he had not made them shine
enough, when he had spent hours rubbing and
polishing them! How many times she had
seen him sad and heavy with the weight of
her scornful words! She was afraid that, even
if he got into the town, the jasmine flowers
would be so much trampled that he would not
guess what they were. She took off her little
gold shoes and put them up on the window-sill,
just inside the bars. “If he passes he will
see them,” she said. The man outside was
so near the wall that the depth of the sill hid
them from his sight.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Swayn was only waiting till it was dark to
get into the town. The river ran all round it,
but he could swim well, and he had noticed a
place where the wall was low and a beam
stuck out which he thought he could reach
with a leap. When the moon was up he left
the Goblin in a thicket and plunged into the
river, and, once across, he ran along under the
walls till he came to the big beam. After one
or two attempts he managed to spring up and
clasp it with his hands, and then he swung
himself up without much difficulty, and was
soon standing on it, looking down into the
moonlit streets of the city.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Nobody was about. The ground was much
higher on the inside, so he let himself down
easily, but, as he had no notion where they
had taken Laurine, he did not know which
way to go. He met few people in the deserted
streets, and as the whole of the crowd which
had captured her was sitting planning how it
should drown her on the morrow, no one had
any idea who he was.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He was almost in despair, when he noticed
a jasmine flower lying at his feet; then he saw
that there was another farther on, and yet
another after that, and he knew that she had
dropped them that he might trace her. He
followed the track through several streets, and
as he went he kept singing, that she might
hear his voice if she were anywhere near.</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Laurine, Laurine, the jasmine white</p>
<p class='line0'>Shines like a star in the darkest night,”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='noindent'>he sang. He dared not call, for fear of disturbing
the sleeping town.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last he came to where flowers and leaves
stopped, near an open space by the town wall.
Close to it was a little stone cell with a barred
window and a door, in front of which lay a
sleeping man, with a key tied to his belt. It
was easy to see that no one could get in
without awakening him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Swayn looked up to the window above the
sleeper’s head, and saw the two little shoes
placed together on the sill. He crept nearer,
and sang again:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Laurine, Laurine, the jasmine white</p>
<p class='line0'>Shines like a star in the darkest night”;</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='noindent'>and in a moment he heard a voice inside the
cell singing softly:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Swayn, Swayn, nearer tread:</p>
<p class='line0'>Love lives on when the stars are dead.”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>He came a little closer and sang:</p>
<div class='poetry-container' style=''>
<div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' -->
<div class='stanza-outer'>
<p class='line0'>“Laurine, Laurine, throw your veil:</p>
<p class='line0'>Dead men’s lips can tell no tale.”</p>
</div>
</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend -->
<p class='pindent'>Then the spangled veil was thrown through
the window-bars, and he caught it as it fell.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Stealthily he went up to the sleeper and cut
the heavy key from his belt with his knife;
then, as the man stirred, he thrust the veil into
his mouth to stop his cries, and, seizing him in
his strong arms, flung him over the low parapet
into the river swirling below. In another
moment he had unlocked the door of the cell
and was embracing Laurine, while she asked
his forgiveness for all her unkindness and
promised to marry him if they managed to get
out of the city alive.</p>
<p class='pindent'>There was an old piece of tattered sacking
lying in a corner of the prison, and she took off
her rich dress and wrapped the horrible rag
about her. They tucked away her long hair
and tied a bandage over her face, so that she
looked like some wretched beggar, and, when
they had locked the door and pitched the key
into the river, she set off down the silent streets,
Swayn following a little way behind. They
hid in a dark alley near the town gates, and
waited till the hour should come to unlock
them at dawn. The sentry on duty was not
the same man who had closed them after
Laurine on the preceding day, and he let the
poor beggar go through with a jeer. As for
Swayn, following at a little distance, he took
no notice of him beyond bidding him a friendly
good-morning. So the lovers were soon in the
open country, pressing forward to the thicket
where the Fiddling Goblin had promised to
wait for his nephew’s return.</p>
<p class='pindent'>You may be sure that they spared no haste
in getting away. By the time the sun was
high they had reached a village, where they
procured horses. All the money that Laurine
had made by her dancing was kept by the
Goblin tied up in a bag with his fiddle; so they
lacked no means of getting forward, and they
turned their heads towards the country from
which they had started.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they reached the wood they could
have shouted for joy. As they came to the
middle of it the Goblin stamped his heel, and
all the candles of the horse-chestnut trees burst
into a blaze of light, for they had been away
a whole year, and it was the season of blossom
again. Swayn and Laurine promised to live
with their uncle Sackbut, and never to leave
him any more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They were soon married, with great pomp
and solemnity, the only drawback being that
the Goblin could not make up his mind whether
to be best man, or give away the bride, or play
the wedding music on his fiddle. But the
matter was happily settled by his doing all
three.</p>
<div><h1 id='chap07'>THE WITCH’S CLOAK</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>Peter and Janet and the miller stood on the
rising ground by the farm; the sound of the
wheel came to them, and the whir of grinding.
Before them lay the tidal marshes that stretched
to the seaport town. It was the same town
through whose streets the Water-Nix followed
the pedlar when she left dry land for the last
time to swim out and join the water-kelpies.
It looked like a blue shadow-town now, cut
sharp against sky and sea, with its tall steeple
reflected in the wet sand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I have often had it in my mind to tell you
a strange story my grandmother heard about a
man who lived in that place,” said the miller,
pointing across the salt marsh.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Is it true?” asked Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That’s more than I know,” replied his
friend, “for I never asked my granny, and
maybe if I had, she couldn’t have told me.
If you like the story you can think it true,
and if you don’t we’ll say it isn’t.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Have you ever been in that town?” the
miller asked Janet.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Never,” said she.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, just where you see the steeple rising
and the glint of the sun on the weathercock
is the High Street. It’s a wide road, with
windows looking down on it from either side;
and at the end, as you go to the docks, is an
old house with carved gable-ends, and in a
niche of its wall is the statue of a man.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And is that the man the story is about?”
inquired little Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The same,” said the miller. “But, to tell
you about him, I must begin somewhere very
far away from the place where the old statue
stands.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“How far?” asked inquisitive Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” answered the miller, “because
nobody I’ve ever seen has been there.</p>
<div class='blockquote'>
<p class='pindent'>“Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was
a Princess who had five handsome elder sisters.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>“But I thought you were going to tell about
the man!” cried Peter.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If you listen hard enough, you’ll hear the
grass grow,” said the miller, “and if you listen
long enough, you’ll hear about the man.”</p>
<p class='line'> </p>
<p class='pindent'>Once upon a time, as I said before, there
was a Princess who had five elder sisters, the
most beautiful ladies ever seen; and their father
thought a deal of them, but not much of the
youngest, who was small and not nearly so
pretty. But she was very nice, all the same,
and the thing she loved best was to go hunting
after flowers. Nobody cared what she did or
where she went, and she spent all her days
wandering in woods and valleys looking for her
plants. There was little she did not know
about them, and if she had not been a Princess,
with no need to work, she might have made
her fortune by writing books about them and
their histories. One day as she roamed about
she came to a place she had never seen before—a
little valley full of great trees, with a winding
stream rushing through it like a silver thread.
Beside the water grew a clump of the most
lovely yellow irises.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She liked the spot so much that she returned
to it every day; and she would sit for hours at
a time beside the iris-bed, with her elbows on
her knees, dreaming about wonderful foreign
plants she had never seen and the strange
descriptions of them she had read in books.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Farther up the valley, beyond the trees, could
be seen the roofs of a castle which stood on
towering rocks. She did not know who it
belonged to, so one day, as she sat by the
water, she said aloud: “I wonder who lives
there?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“The witch, the witch!” sang the iris-flowers
behind her. The sound went through them
like a sigh.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She started and turned round, but there was
no one to be seen; and again as she looked
the flowers repeated: “The witch, the witch!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Then she asked them many more questions,
but nothing would they say. Perhaps it was
all they knew, or perhaps what she took for
words was only the rustling of the long stiff
leaves one against the other. But that’s as
may be. In any case, it roused her curiosity
so much that she rose and went off towards the
castle. She had no sooner got among the
trees than by came the witch herself.</p>
<div class='figcenter' style='width:80%'>
<img src='images/ill006.jpg' alt='Old woman talks to young woman.' id='img06' style='width:99%;height:auto;'/>
<p class='caption'>“ ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN.”</p>
</div>
<p class='pindent'>“Who are you?” inquired the old woman.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess explained, and politely asked
to be forgiven for trespassing.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Pray don’t apologize,” said the witch, “and
do me the favour to give me your arm as far
as my castle. I have, as you see, no staff, and
I am not so young as I was.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess agreed willingly, and they
walked on together. The old woman was
wrapped in a trailing black cloak, and her
hair hung over her eyes, like the hair of all
other witches. She seemed rather a pleasant
body, though her nose and chin were certainly
a little too near together. When they had
climbed as far as the castle gate, she invited
her companion to come in and rest, and the
Princess, who feared nobody, followed her.
They sat down together at a window overlooking
the valley; from it she could see the
winding water and the clump of irises.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“It is the most fortunate thing in the world
that I met you,” began the old woman, “for I
am much in need of advice from somebody.
My difficulty is this: I have grown very tired
of being a witch, and I wish to leave my
profession and become like other people. I am
learning, as you have noticed, to do without
my crooked staff. Last week I sold my broomstick
and bought a very pretty little brown
horse instead, and I have given my black cat to
a friend. My appearance is still not quite what
I could wish, and I really do not know what
kind of clothes to get, nor how to arrange my
hair. Other witches can tell me nothing, for
they know as little as I do, but your advice
would be the greatest help to me.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I shall be very pleased to do anything I
can,” said the Princess.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“If you will consent to stay with me for a
few days till my wardrobe is complete, I shall
be more obliged than I can say,” continued the
old woman. “Use my house as your own, and
everything in it.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so it was all arranged in five minutes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess was uncommonly useful. She
brushed the witch’s hair and pinned it up
tidily, and made her a fine lace head-dress, which
gave her a dignified air. She sent to the
nearest town for silks and brocades and buckled
shoes, and, instead of the crooked staff that
her friend missed so much, she bought her
a handsome stick with an amber head.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The witch was delighted, for she looked
both refined and venerable as she stood before
her glass.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Here!” she exclaimed, taking up her old
black cloak, which lay on the floor, “this must
be thrown away.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was just going to cast it upon the fire
when the Princess stopped her.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh no, no!” she cried, snatching it from
her, “don’t destroy it. Pray, pray give it to
me!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“What for?” exclaimed the witch. “A
Princess in a witch’s cloak? A pretty idea,
indeed!”</p>
<p class='pindent'>But the Princess clung to it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Surely you will not refuse me,” she said,
“since you do not want it any more! How
often have I heard you say that you could fly
wherever you liked in it? Think what it would
be for me if I were able to go off in it to foreign
countries, and see all the wonderful plants I
have heard so much about! Only give it to me
and I will be your debtor for life.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, after all, why not?” said the witch.
“One good turn certainly deserves another.
Keep it, my dear. If you put it on, and hold out
your arms like wings on either side, it will take you
up into the sky, and you can sail along like a
ship. When you wish to descend, just fold
your arms and you will come down to earth
quite gently.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess took her treasure and locked it
up in her own chamber, for fear the witch should
change her mind. The next day she bade her
farewell, and, throwing on the cloak, spread out
her arms. Up she went, easily and gently, and
when she had decided where she should go, she
turned her face southwards and was soon far,
far away, a little speck among the clouds. The
witch looked after her till she could see her no
more.</p>
<p class='pindent'>She was now in the seventh heaven of joy.
She went to every country she had ever heard
about. She saw the sea-pinks and water-asters
of lonely islands known only to screaming gulls;
she stood in forests where creepers were thrown
like veils over the branches and the air was
heavy with the scent of fringed and spotted
orchids, purple and mauve and cream-yellow.
She wandered beside lakes, walled in by solemn
trees that hid the sun and strewn with red and
white lilies; she saw the groves of cherry-blossom
that hang on the steep gorges of blue
hills far away, and the giant palms and scarlet
flowers of the South. At last, after many
months of wandering, she flew northward and
up the coast of the North Sea till she was
right over the town before us.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was midnight as she stood, wrapped in her
black cloak, on the topmost point of the steeple.
The folds fluttered and crackled, as you may
hear a flag flutter and crackle if you stand by
a flagstaff on a tower; but no one noticed it or
saw her, for everyone but the watchman was in
bed, and <span class='it'>he</span> was asleep too, though he was paid
to be awake. In the bright moonlight she
sailed down to the empty pavement of the High
Street, among the dark shadows of the gable-ends.
It was winter now and the frost was
iron-hard over the whole country. She went
quickly through the streets, for she did not
care for towns, determining that when the sun
rose next day she would be well on her way
back to the witch’s castle in the valley. But
she was rather tired and wanted a few hours
of sleep first. She left the town and flew up
this very road and past the mill—so I have
heard—till she came to an old deserted cottage
that once stood not far from here by the wayside.
(There were still a few stones of it left
when I was a child, and I used to pass it on my
way to school.) The nettle-stalks were all frozen
round it as she pushed through the broken door,
meaning to lie down and sleep in shelter till
morning. She had nothing to fear from the
cold, for among the cloak’s other useful qualities
was the power of keeping the person inside it
perfectly warm. She was exceedingly surprised
to see by the moonlight that someone else was
in the miserable hovel.</p>
<p class='pindent'>A little starving boy was lying on a pile of
straw in the corner. His poor face was thin
and blue with cold, and he had crept into the
hut because it was the only refuge he could
find. He had walked all day, begging from
door to door, for he had neither home nor
friends nor food, and was worn out with fatigue
and hunger. He lay, scarcely knowing where
he was, for his wits were beginning to go, and
when the Princess came in he was very near
death. Strange dreams were in his brain. The
moon struck brilliantly on a little window in the
wall and the bitter cold had covered it with
wonderful frost-flowers. It was the last thing
he had seen before he closed his eyes, and
he seemed to himself to be looking deep into a
white forest that had grown up from the panes.
Oh, how freezing it was! The forest was all
made of frozen ferns and seaweed and feathers,
like the white images on the glass. It stretched
far, far away in alleys of fantastic sparkling
fronds and glittering branches. How thick the
strange, beautiful things grew! He had been
once told that, if he was a good boy, when he
died a white angel would come and take him
to a place where he would never be sad or
hungry any more. He was not sure that he
did not see someone coming to him between
the stems of the frozen forest. Perhaps it was
the white angel.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He tried to sit up, but he was too weak.
Poor little man, he had just enough life left in
him to see that what he had taken for an angel
was a woman in a black cloak.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The Princess went to him and bent over him.
Then she took him up under the warm folds,
bound him to her breast with her girdle, and
hurried out of the hut. She spread out her
arms, and, sailing with him into the wintry sky,
flew over land and sea till she arrived at the
witch’s castle.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The witch was overjoyed to see her come
back, for she had been away half a year. They
took the little boy and put him in a warm bed,
in which he lay for many long days. But he
was fed with the best of food, and such care was
taken of him that when he got well he was
able to run about and play in the valley and be
happy from morning till night. They were so
good to him that he soon forgot he had ever
had any troubles at all.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The witch and the Princess got on so well
together that they determined not to part, and
they had plenty to do, looking after their charge
and teaching him all the things he should know—how
to read and write and say his prayers, and
how to answer nicely when he was spoken to.
When the Princess went, as she did every year,
to find new flowers in foreign lands, he went
with her, and helped her to carry back roots and
seeds, which they planted in the valley; for the
cloak was so large that, even when he grew
bigger, there was room in it for them both.
She taught him all her own knowledge, and as
time went by and he grew up to be a man, he
became even more learned than herself. He was
very clever and so hardy and strong that nobody
would have believed him to be the little wretched
child who had lain starving in the hovel.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At last the time came when he was ready to
go out into the world to seek his fortune. The
parting gift that the Princess gave him was the
black cloak. He was to have it on condition
that he would come back once every year to go
to some foreign land with her, and to visit the
witch. He was given a small sum of money
to start life with; and, as he was anxious to see
the country of his birth and the hut in which he
had been found, he wrapped himself in the
cloak and came down, as the Princess had
done, at midnight into the town across the
marsh.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He was a fine, sensible fellow. Though he
had lived in a castle, and perhaps because he
had been brought up by a real Princess, he
had no silly notions and was ready for any
work he could find. He hired a modest lodging,
and, going to the director of a large public
garden that had been made in the town, he
asked to be employed as a gardener. There
was only one place vacant, and that was the
very lowest, but he took it eagerly. His
work was to wheel barrows, and sweep leaves,
and cut grass, but he did it as carefully and put
as much heart into it as if he was raising
priceless flowers; for the Princess had brought
him up strictly, and made him understand that
honest work can only be made mean by the
meanness of the person who does it.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Every year, when he had a few weeks’ holiday,
he returned to the witch’s castle. No one saw
him go, and no one saw him come back, and
nobody knew how he managed to get the
marvellous plants that he brought back with
him. Very soon he was no longer an under-gardener,
but the head of all, and by the time
he was turning grey he had become the
greatest botanist and teacher in the country.
Learned men came from all parts of the
kingdom to talk with him in his house with the
carved gable-ends in the High Street of yonder
town.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Time went by, and his fame spread all
over the world. He grew old and his hair
turned white, but still he went about wrapped
in the black cloak, from which he never parted.
His white beard flowed over his breast as he
sat and wrote the books which helped to make
him famous, or walked over the country, comparing
plants and teaching his pupils out of his
stores of wisdom. But at last he grew too
infirm to walk long distances, and strangers
coming to the town would look with awe upon
his venerable figure as he passed through the
streets. Everyone loved him, rich and poor
alike.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so it came to be that a great banquet
was given in his honour, and the learned from
all countries met together.</p>
<p class='pindent'>It was the middle of summer, and the hall in
which it took place was decorated with flowers.
A laurel-wreath hung over the chair in which
he was to sit, costly fruits were brought from
far-away lands, and the hall was filled with the
glory of blossoming plants, many of which he
had carried home with him as tiny seeds from
his journeys. Wise men were there and
beautiful ladies, students and great personages.
All had come to see him and to hear him speak.
The town was thronged—you would think there
was no room in it for so much as one additional
person.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the feast was over he rose and began
his speech, and silence fell upon everyone.
Though he was frail and old, his voice was
clear as he told them of the countries he had
wandered in—the distant islands, the tropics,
the golden East. No one imagined he had
been so far afield, and his listeners wondered
how he had contrived to make such voyages,
for they knew that he was not rich and lived
very simply in the old house at the end of the
street. But everybody was enthralled; his life of
work, his modesty, his great age and wisdom
adorned him, in the eyes of his pupils and
the assembled guests, like the jewels of a
crown.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When the long speech was over he sat
down, leaning back in his chair under the laurel-wreath,
for the effort he had made was great.
The guests remained respectfully in their places;
they saw that he was weary and would need
rest before he could listen to their congratulations.
For a moment he closed his eyes, and
when he opened them, a wonderful change
seemed to have come over the scene before
him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>The green boughs that filled the hall and
the vases of flowers on the long tables were
changing before his failing sight. Instead of
the tall sheaves of roses a white forest was
rising up, deep and pure, a forest that he had
seen before. On either side the frost-flowers
hung sparkling, their snow-crystals thick in the
maze of white feathers and seaweed and ferns.
The sprays and branches crowded on him in
their dazzling myriads, dense and high, and far
down the white vista into which he looked a
figure was coming—a white figure. It was the
angel.</p>
<p class='pindent'>He rose and grasped an outstretched hand.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“He is gone,” said the guests. “The exertion
has been too much for him.” And his
pupils and friends came round him, the tears
standing in their eyes.</p>
<p class='pindent'>At that moment a gust of wind ran through
the open doors of the hall, and the black cloak,
which its owner had laid on a window-sill before
he sat down at the table, was blown from it and
flew out into the air. No one saw it go, but
it rose on the sudden wind and sailed upwards,
above the town, above the steeple, and disappeared
like a dark cloud into the distant spaces
of sky.</p>
<hr class='tbk'/>
<p class='pindent'>“Some day,” said the miller to little Peter,
“I’ll take you to the town in my cart and show
you the statue of that man in the wall of the old
house.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And you’ll let me hold the end of the reins
and the whip, and drive too, won’t you?” shouted
the little boy.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Well, perhaps I will,” laughed the miller,
“only Janet must come too, to keep you in
order.”</p>
<div><h1 id='chap08'>CONCLUSION</h1></div>
<p class='pindent'>It was not long after this that the miller kept
his promise. The horse was harnessed and
away they drove to the town. He and Janet
sat together, with Peter between them; the
little boy held the end of the reins in one hand
and the whip in the other, shouting and
flourishing the lash about and thinking that
coachmen were even better people than millers.
Janet was happy too. She sat smiling and
holding the tail of his coat, for fear he should
overbalance himself and fall out into the road.</p>
<p class='pindent'>They left the cart at an inn, and went to see
the house with its statue in the niche of the
wall and carved gable-ends turned towards the
street. It was now inhabited by poor families,
whose washing flapped from the upper story
like a row of banners over the head of the stone
image. They stood on the pavement of the High
Street and looked up to the giddy point of the
steeple, where the weathercock twirled, more
than a hundred feet in the air; they wondered
at the quaint houses, with their outside staircases
and their little wooden triangles of drying
haddocks nailed against the wall. Then they
strolled to the docks and stood at the place
from which the lovely Nix had dived into the
salt water. The tide lapped and gurgled
against the quays, and the wind sang in the
rigging of the ships alongside, and the fair-haired
sailors talked in a foreign tongue,
shouting to the fishwives who passed in their
blue petticoats and amber necklaces along the
cobbled roadway. The lighthouse stood on the
promontory and the North Sea rolled and
heaved outside the bar. It was a delightful
holiday.</p>
<p class='pindent'>When they were tired of that they went
out towards the seashore. The gulls were
wheeling over the bents and sea-grass, and the
sands lay smooth and fine to the edge of the
waves. Little Peter rushed off to play, leaping
about and throwing stones and gathering shells,
while his companions sat upon the sand-dunes
watching him.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Janet,” said the miller, “I hear that your
grandmother is going to leave the cottage by
the pond and go away to some other place. Is
that true, do you think?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid so,” replied she.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And you will go too?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Oh yes,” said Janet; “we have no other
home.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But little Peter will miss his stories.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Janet sighed. “Indeed he will,” she answered,
sadly. “There is not much else we have in
the way of pleasure.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I can’t let you go,” the miller went on,
“and what’s more, I won’t. Janet, if you’ll marry
me and come and live with me at the mill-house,
I’ll see that you are happy for the rest of your
life. Do you think you could like me enough
for that?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But I can’t leave Peter,” she exclaimed;
“I could never be happy to think of him all
alone, and perhaps being cruelly used.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“But suppose he came too?—there’s plenty
of room for him. Will you say yes, Janet,
or shall we ask him to settle it for us?” said
the miller. “Will you promise to marry me
if he says yes?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“I will,” said she.</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so they drove home together when the
sun was getting low.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Peter,” said the miller, “don’t you think it
would be a good plan if I married Janet, and
you were to come and live with me and learn
to be a miller too? You should have cake
for tea every other day, and a pair of fine
blue trousers, and a whipping-top of your own,
and a kite, and I’d tell you a new story every
Sunday afternoon.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>Peter’s eyes grew round.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“And should I be all white with flour like
your man?”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“From head to foot,” said the miller.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Hooray! hooray! hooray!” shrieked little
Peter, jumping about in the cart.</p>
<p class='pindent'>“Take care, take care,” cried Janet, “or you
will make the horse run away.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>“That settles it,” observed the miller.
“We’ll be married next week.”</p>
<p class='pindent'>And so they were.</p>
<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:3em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>BILLING AND SONS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD</span></p>
<hr class='pbk'/>
<h3>TRANSCRIBER NOTES</h3>
<p class='pindent'>Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.</p>
<p class='pindent'>Illustrations have been relocated due to using a non-page layout.</p>
<p class='pindent'>[The end of <span class='it'>Stories Told by the Miller</span> by Violet Jacob]</p>
<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75166 ***</div>
</body>
<!-- created with fpgen.py 4.67 on 2025-01-21 16:28:32 GMT -->
</html>
|
