{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37455/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37455","id":"gutenberg_37455","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37455","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Humour","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fairy tales"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n    THE RAINBOW BOOK\n\n\n          _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_\n\n            LITTLEDOM CASTLE\n\n            MY SON AND I\n\n            MARGERY REDFORD\n\n            THE LOVE FAMILY\n\n            THE CHILD OF THE AIR\n\n\n    _All rights reserved_\n\n\n    [Illustration: _The Fish-King and the Dog-Fish_]\n\n\n    [Illustration:\n                   The\n                   Rainbow\n                   Book\n\n                   Tales of Fun & Fancy\n\n                   By\n                   Mrs. M. H. SPIELMANN\n\n                   Illustrated by\n                   Arthur Rackham\n                   Hugh Thomson\n                   Bernard Partridge\n                   Lewis Baumer\n                   Harry Rountree\n                   C. Wilhelm\n\n                   NEW YORK\n                   FREDERICK WARNE AND CO.\n                   1909]\n\n    TO\n\n    BARBARA MARY RACKHAM\n\n    WITH ALL GOOD WISHES\n\n    FOR HER FUTURE HAPPINESS\n\n                    MABEL H. SPIELMANN\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nIt's all very well--but you, and I, and most of us who are healthy in\nmind and blithe of spirit, love to give rein to our fun and fancy, and\nto mingle fun with our fancy and fancy with our fun.\n\nThe little Fairy-people are the favourite children of Fancy, and were\nborn into this serious world ages and ages ago to help brighten it, and\nmake it more graceful and dainty and prettily romantic than it was. They\nfound the Folk-lore people already here--grave, learned people whose\nlearning was all topsy-turvy, for it dealt with toads, and storms, and\ndiseases, and what strange things would happen if you mixed them up\ntogether, and how the devil would flee if you did something with a herb,\nand how the tempest would stop suddenly, as Terence records, if you\nsprinkled a few drops of vinegar in front of it. No doubt, since then\nthousands of people have sprinkled tens of thousands of gallons of good\nvinegar before advancing tempests, and although tempests pay far less\nattention to the liquid than the troubled waters to a pint of oil, the\nsprinklers and their descendants have gone on believing with a touching\nfaith. It is pretty, but not practical.\n\nBut what _is_ pretty and practical too, is that all of us should\nsometimes let our fancy roam, and that we should laugh as well, even\nover a Fairy-story. Yet there are some serious-minded persons, very\ngrave and very clever, who get angry if a smile so much as creeps into a\nFairy-tale, and if our wonder should be disturbed by anything so worldly\nas a laugh. A Fairy-tale, they say, should be like an old Folk-tale,\nmarked by sincerity and simplicity--as if humour cannot be sincere and\nsimple too. \"The true Fairy-story is not comic.\" Why not? Of this we may\nbe sure--take all the true humourless Fairy-stories and take\n\"Alice\"--and \"Alice\" with its fun and fancy will live beside them as\nlong as English stories are read, loved for its fancy and its fun, and\nhugged and treasured for its jokes and its laughter. The one objection\nis this: the \"true Fairy-story\" appeals to all children, young and old,\nin all lands, equally, by translation; and jokes and fun are sometimes\ndifficult to translate. But that is on account of the shortcomings of\nlanguage, and it is hard to make young readers suffer by starving them\nof fun, because the power of words is less absolute than the power of\nfancy in its merrier mood.\n\nSome people, of course, take their Fairies very seriously indeed, and\nwe cannot blame them, for it is a very harmless and very beautiful\nmental refreshment. Some, indeed, not only believe firmly in Fairies--in\ntheir existence and their exploits--but believe themselves to be\nactually visited by the Little People. For my part, I would rather be\nvisited by a Fairy than by a Spook any day, or night: but when the\n\"sincerity\" of some of us drove the Fairies out, the world was left so\nblank and unimaginative, that the Spooks had to be invited in. The\nadmixture of faith and imagination produces strange results, while it\nraises us above the commonplaceness of everyday life.\n\nBut, as I say, certain favoured people, mostly little girls, it is true,\nare regularly visited by Fairies even in the broad daylight, and they\nwatch them at their pretty business, at their games and play (for\nFairies, you may be sure, play and laugh, however much the Folk-lorists\nmay frown when we are made to laugh with them). Two hundred and fifty\nyears ago a Cornish girl declared that she had wonderful adventures with\nthe Fairies--and she meant truly what she said. And it is only fifty\nyears since an educated lady wrote a sincere account of her doings with\nFairies and theirs with her, in an account which was reprinted in one of\nthe most serious of papers, and which showed that the lady, like the\nuneducated Cornish girl two centuries before, was a true \"fairy-seer.\"\nHere is a part of her story:--\n\n\"I used to spend a great deal of my time alone in our garden, and I\nthink it must have been soon after my brother's death that I first saw\n(or perhaps recollect seeing) Fairies. I happened one day to break, with\na little whip I had, the flower of a buttercup: a little while after, as\nI was resting on the grass, I heard a tiny but most beautiful voice\nsaying, 'Buttercup, who has broken your house?' Then another voice\nreplied, 'That little girl that is lying close by you.' I listened in\ngreat wonder, and looked about me, until I saw a daisy, in which stood a\nlittle figure not larger, certainly, than one of its petals.\n\n\"When I was between three and four years old we removed to London, and I\npined sadly for my country home and friends. I saw none of them for a\nlong time, I think because I was discontented; I did not try to make\nmyself happy. At last I found a copy of Shakespeare in my father's\nstudy, which delighted me so much (though I don't suppose I understood\nmuch of it) that I soon forgot we were living where I could not see a\ntree or a flower. I used to take the book and my little chair, and sit\nin a paved yard we had. (I could see the sky there.) One day, as I was\nreading the 'Midsummer Night's Dream,' I happened to look up, and saw\nbefore me a patch of soft, green grass with the Fairy-ring upon it:\nwhilst I was wondering how it came, my old friends appeared and acted\nthe whole play (I suppose to amuse me). After this they often came, and\ndid the same with the other plays.\"\n\nThere! what do you say to that? Do you wonder that the good folk of\nBlagdon, for example, still point to the hill \"where the fairies come to\ndance,\" and show you the Fairy-rings, like that which Cedric saw (as is\nrecounted in this book), with the Little People capering about? Of\ncourse, the country folk don't laugh at them, because it is all so\nmysterious, and, as the scientific professors declare, abnormal, if not\nsupernormal; but do you believe for one moment, that in their joyous\ndance the fairies do not laugh and joke as well as play and caper? The\nBird-Fairy, as appears later, was always grave and loving, and didn't\nlaugh--but then _she_ was an enchanted Princess, and had sad and serious\nbusiness on hand, and was not quite sure, sanguine though she was, of\ndefeating the machinations of the cunning and wicked Wizard. But look at\nthe classic Grimm, at the tiny, dancing, capering tailors whose\nportraits Cruikshank drew so well in it, and say if there is not a peal\nof laughter in every open mouth of them, and a chuckle in every limb and\njoint. Not \"comic,\" Mr. Folk-lorist? Why, they are the very spirit and\npersonification of comedy and fun!\n\nBut then your scientist comes along and tries to explain away the\nFairy-rings themselves, which have defied explanation since Fairy-rings\nfirst came among us. Once at Kinning Park at Glasgow (and thousands of\ntimes elsewhere) four Fairy-rings appeared in one night--on a\ncricket-ground, if you please! on which the cricketers had been\ncontinuously playing and practising; and the poets said that they were\nmade by the Fairies dancing under the moonlight, or, when the moon went\nto bed, by the lamplight of a glow-worm. That, _I_ think, must be the\ntruth, simple and sincere. Each ring was a belt of grass darker and\ngreener than the surrounding turf, and was eight or ten inches broad;\nand the largest were nine and ten feet in diameter, and the others five\nand six, measuring from the centre of the belt. And the circles were\naccurate and the advent of them quite sudden. Clearly, the Fairies\n_must_ have made them. But then a learned professor arose and lectured\nabout them before the British Association. He was a great naturalist,\nand said that the rings contained a great number of toad-stools. And he\nbrought along a chemist who analysed the fungi, and said he found in\nthem a lot of phosphoric acid and potash and peroxide of iron and\nsulphuric acid, and a lot of things the fairies had never heard of and\ncertainly never brought there, and he said that that, with phosphated\nalkali and magnesia, accounted for the rings! And then another great\nprofessor said that they must have been years in coming, and that\nelectricity might have something to do with it, and that small rings\nsometimes spread to fifty yards in diameter--which only proves the\nwonderful power of happy industry of the Fairies, even in their revels\nand in their play.\n\nSo much for the Fairies.\n\nBut everybody is not in love with Fairies; some people don't care for\nthem, some (as we have seen) don't even believe in them! Many don't care\nto read about them, being insensible to their grace and pretty elegance,\ntheir exquisite dignity, and their ever-present youth. Who ever heard of\na middle-aged fairy? Such folk, be their age what it may, generally\nprefer fun; especially do they love what Charles Dickens once for all\ndefined and established as the Spirit of Christmas. Well, here they may\nfind Father Christmas at home, and on his rounds. Here they will find\nrevealed and laid bare the whole secret and mystery of Santa\nClaus--where the presents come from, and where they are stored--how they\nare packed and how delivered while we are all asleep in our beds,\ndelivered from the waits. Here, too, the \"old-fangled father\" is\njustified in the eyes of his \"new-fangled sons,\" who recognise that\nfundamental truths--and such truths!--are not shaken by the on-coming\ntide of Time. And here, besides, you may learn what goes on on that\nother side of the moon which we never see, and what is its service to\nMan, and to Woman and Child as well. And for the first time in the\nhistory of romance we discover what it was that the Sleeping Beauty\ndreamt. And there are stories of other kinds--with a touch of pathos,\ntoo.\n\nStory-telling is the oldest of the arts--the art of which we never\ntire--the art which will be out-lived by none other, however\nfascinating, however beautiful, however perfect. It may deal with human\nthought and human passion; it may appeal to the highest intellect and\nthe profoundest sentiments of men; or just to the brightest and\ndreamiest fancy of the young. Be it but well told, even though it does\nnot stir our emotions, the little story delights the imagination, and\nmakes us grateful to the teller for an hour well spent or pleasantly\nwhiled away. That is the greatest reward of the writer, as it is the\nsole ambition of the author of these little tales.\n\n                                              _Mister_ M. H. SPIELMANN.\n\n\n\n\n    CONTENTS\n\n\n    ADVENTURES IN WIZARD-LAND--\n\n      _Illustrated by_ ARTHUR RACKHAM, A.R.W.S.\n\n       I. A Knock at the Red Door\n\n      II. The Wizard at Home\n\n     III. The Bird-Fairy Speaks\n\n      IV. The Lost Catseye\n\n       V. In the Fish-King's Realm\n\n      VI. The Mystery of the Crab\n\n     VII. The Magic Bracelets\n\n    VIII. The Spell--and how it Worked\n\n    THE OLD-FANGLED FATHER AND HIS NEW-FANGLED SONS\n\n    THE LITTLE PICTURE GIRL\n      _Illustrated by_ HUGH THOMSON, R.I.\n\n    THE SLEEPING BEAUTY'S DREAM\n      _Illustrated by_ BERNARD PARTRIDGE, R.I.\n\n    THE GAMEKEEPER'S DAUGHTER\n      _Illustrated by_ LEWIS BAUMER\n\n    ALL ON A FIFTH OF NOVEMBER\n\n    FATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME\n      _Illustrated by_ ARTHUR RACKHAM, A.R.W.S.\n\n    A BIRTHDAY STORY\n\n    LITTLE STARRY\n\n    CEDRIC'S UNACCOUNTABLE ADVENTURE\n      _Illustrated by_ HARRY ROUNTREE\n\n    ROSELLA\n\n    THE CUCKOO THAT LIVED IN THE CLOCK-HOUSE\n\n    CHRISTMAS AT THE COURT OF KING JORUM\n      _Illustrated by_ HUGH THOMSON, R.I.\n\n    ONE APRIL DAY\n\n    THE STORM THE TEAPOT BREWED\n\n    MONICA THE MOON CHILD\n      _Illustrated by_ C. WILHELM\n\n\n\n\n    ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    THE FISH-KING AND THE DOG-FISH\n\n    \"SO YOU'VE COME TO SEE THE WIZARD,\" HE SAID\n\n    ITS HEAD WAS PATTED GRACIOUSLY\n\n    WHAT A GLORIOUS RIDE THAT WAS\n\n    SHE STROKED IT--ACTUALLY STROKED IT\n\n    TAKING THE BOY AND GIRL BY A HAND, HE LED THEM\n\n    THE LITTLE PICTURE GIRL\n\n    IN MARCHED A STOUT BEADLE\n\n    THEN SHE ACCEPTED HIS INVITATION TO DANCE\n\n    \"IT IS YOU, O PRINCE, THE YOUTH OF MY DREAM!\"\n\n    \"YOU CAN JUST HAND OVER THAT PHEASANT\"\n\n    \"WHO ARE YOU, THEN?\"\n\n    SHE RAN AND FETCHED HIS PRESENTS SHE WAS ANXIOUS TO SHOW\n\n    IT WAS A VERY, VERY LONG LADDER\n\n    THE TWO REINDEER ... SPED RAPIDLY AWAY\n\n    LAY LOW, AND HATCHED AN AUDACIOUS PLOT\n\n    \"OF COURSE YOUR YOUNG MAJESTY HAS GOT THE KEY?\"\n\n    \"I REALLY DO LOOK EVERY INCH A KING!\"\n\n    LOOKING NEITHER TO THE RIGHT NOR TO THE LEFT\n\n    ROUND ABOUT WAS NOTHING BUT MOUNTAINS, CRATERS, CAVERNS\n\n\n\n\n    ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT\n\n\n    ADVENTURES IN WIZARD-LAND\n\n    \"ALL THESE POOR CREATURES WERE CHILDREN\"\n\n    HE TOOK TWO JEWELLED CIRCLETS OUT OF A SATCHEL\n\n    \"I AM THE BIRD-FAIRY,\" SHE SAID\n\n    THEY MET MANY A QUAINT CREATURE\n\n    THE WIZARD, WITH A GROAN OF PAIN, HAD LEAPT BACK\n\n    LYING FULL LENGTH ON THE GROUND NEXT TO HIS SHATTERED INVENTION\n\n    INITIAL\n\n    HE MOUNTED IT VERY CAREFULLY\n\n    SMILED AS SHE WAVED GOOD-BYE\n\n    \"I SUPPOSE YOU KNOW YOU'RE TRESPASSING?\"\n\n    MONICA THE MOON CHILD\n\n    SHE WAS SOARING LIKE A BIRD RIGHT OUT INTO THE NIGHT\n\n    A TINY FIGURE, NO BIGGER THAN MONICA'S DOLL\n\n    ROWS UPON ROWS OF THE BEAUTIFULLEST ROSES\n\n    THE MAN LIFTED HIS ARM SO THAT HIS FACE WAS ONCE\n    MORE HIDDEN IN GLOOM\n\n\n    _The Title-page and End-papers are by_ MR. CARTON MOORE PARK.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nA KNOCK AT THE RED DOOR\n\n\n\"It's a shame, Dulcie. We mayn't go out just because it's raining a few\ndrops,\" said the boy at the nursery window.\n\n\"Yes, a fearful shame,\" replied his sister. She always sympathised with\nhim and gave in to him, right or wrong. She carefully propped her doll\nbolt upright on a chair and came to where he stood. \"Never mind, Cyril.\nLet's play at something.\"\n\n\"Yes, but I do mind. It's too bad! It's always 'you mustn't' this, 'you\nmustn't' that. It would be a saving of breath if they'd just say the few\nthings that we _might_ do. Are you willing to go on putting up with it?\nI suppose you are, as you're only a girl.\"\n\n\"No, I don't want to, but I've got to. Mother says it is for our good,\nand we are spoilt.\"\n\n\"I don't think so at all. It's very hard lines,\" growled Cyril. \"I'm\nsure the garden isn't a bit wet, and the rocks have only a sprinkle.\"\n\nCertainly the window panes had more than a sprinkle trickling down them.\nBut the birds were twittering fussily in the bushes and amongst the ivy,\nand the garden was looking its best in the summer shower. Fitful gleams\nof sunshine cast loving touches here and there on the roses and the\nsweet honeysuckle; and the tall white lilies never looked fresher or\nsmarter. Beyond, were those tempting rocks, with their surroundings of\nsand, which rose so strangely in that part of inland Kent, telling of\nformer ages and of the vagaries of the sea and river. The rocks were the\nhappy playground of these lucky Twins, who lived in the fine solitary\nhouse close by, and who were now peering so disconsolately through the\nwindow, flattening their noses against the glass blurred with the\npattering rain.\n\nThey were exactly the same height; they resembled one another in\nfeature, and, being twins, were both nine years old; and there the\nlikeness ended, for his dark hair was short and thick, and hers was fair\nand very long. She was timid and gentle though her bright face was very\nhappy; he, what is termed \"a handful.\"\n\n\"_I_ know!\" exclaimed Dulcie after a moment's silence, drawing her\nbrother away from the melancholy amusement of tracing down the trailing\ndrops with his finger until they disappeared mysteriously at the bottom\nof the glass. \"I know! Let's play 'Birds, Beasts, and Fishes.'\"\n\nCyril cast a lingering look at the tiresome dark clouds, then with a\nsigh and a frown turned round in token of consent, graciously suffered\nhimself to be settled at the table with paper and pencil, and was soon\nexcitedly trying to guess what Dulcie's Bird could be that began with\nthe letter c, had four between, and ended with an _e_.\n\n\"It's very easy, really,\" pleaded Dulcie, burning to tell. \"Do you give\nit up?\"\n\nCyril wasn't so easily beaten as that, and thought till he grew\nimpatient.\n\n\"Shall I tell you?--_Let_ me tell you!\" urged his sister.\n\n\"If you like,\" he replied magnanimously.\n\n\"Canare!\"\n\n\"I'm sure it's spelt with a _y_,\" he said, as if he weren't quite\ncertain in spite of his words.\n\nThey argued who should score the mark, and settled the point by counting\nit a draw. She followed it up with a Fish, which was _s_, two between,\nand an _l_, which puzzled Cyril until he found, of course, that it was\n\"soul.\"\n\nBelieving he had lost again, he allowed his interest in the game to\nflag, and still restless, he ran to the window.\n\n\"Hooray! it's fine now,\" he cried. \"Come along, we don't want hats!\"\n\n\"_Ought_ we to go, do you think, Cyril, without asking?\"\n\n\"I'm not going to ask, not if I know it. We would be sure to be\n'don't'-ed. I'm going out. It's so stuffy here. You can do as you like.\"\n\n\"If you go, I shall go too,\" she replied quickly, following him and\ntaking his hand. He didn't quite like that, but he felt, as she was\n\"only a woman,\" he would let her.\n\nAway they ran lightly, out into the sunshine, happy to be in the warm,\nscented air, through the garden, off to the dear old rocks which were\nalready drying nicely, and at once a fine game of hide-and-seek was in\nfull swing.\n\nDulcie had gone again to hide, and Cyril had his face buried in his\nhands, waiting for the familiar \"Cuckoo!\" when he was startled instead\nby a faint cry of surprise, followed by \"Cyril, come quick! Quick!\"\n\n\"It must be a beetle or a toad, or something,\" he said to himself as he\nhurried to the spot from which her voice seemed to come; but it was only\nafter she had repeated her excited cries that he found her at last.\n\nShe had found a passage through the rocks which they had never noticed\nbefore!\n\n\"Come along!\" cried Cyril joyously at the sight of it. \"Come along!\nwe'll go on a voyage of discovery!\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDown the passage they went, far and carefully, for there was only a\nglimmer of light in a thin streak peeping through, because the rocks all\nbut joined at the top, and the ground was uneven and slippery. But in\nspite of their caution they got a sudden start, for they became aware of\na silent brook flowing deep and swiftly by, at their feet: another step\nand they would have been in it. The Twins, rather startled, looked at\none another, and then without further thought they just jumped across.\nJumped into an open space--into MOONLIGHT. There was actually a full\nmoon overhead, but with such seams and lines about it that it bore the\nappearance of being pieced together like a geographical puzzle.\n\n\"Cyril, look there!\" whispered Dulcie, pressing close up to him, as soon\nas she found words.\n\nIn the white light there stood an immense rock. In it there was a wooden\ndoor with hewn-out steps leading up to it. A nice red door it was, with\na green knocker upon it in the shape of a mouth smiling a welcome. Of\ncourse they went up to it, climbed the steps, which were high and\ndifficult, and stared at the neatly engraved brass plate below it,\nwhich bore the words:\n\n  +---------------------------------+\n  | Knock if an answer is required. |\n  |         If not, why?            |\n  +---------------------------------+\n\n\"I'm going to knock,\" said Cyril.\n\n\"Oh no, we don't want any answer,\" said Dulcie, \"so why do it?\"\n\nA backward glance at the steps puzzled her, for they had grown steeper\nthan before and impossible to climb down again, or up, for the matter of\nthat, and the door before which they stood was now at such a height from\nthe ground as to make her feel giddy to look below. She hardly had time\nto think about it when Cyril raised the knocker and let it go. Instead\nof the usual sound a knocker makes, a loud laugh rang out, discordant\nand disconcerting. \"You needn't be frightened,\" he remarked, for his\nlittle sister hung back and tightened her grasp of his arm. The next\nmoment the door swung open and there stood on the threshold a very tall\nman with an enormous bald head. He was clad in a yellow satin\ndressing-gown, and wore great smoke-coloured spectacles.\n\n\"So you've come to see the Wizard,\" he said blandly. \"Pray walk in!\"\n\n[Illustration: _\"So you've come to see the Wizard,\" he said_]\n\n\"I--I think we'd--we'd rather not, thank you very much,\" stammered\nCyril, very red, whilst Dulcie looked up, pale and wondering. \"We're not\ndressed for visiting,\" she urged in a loud whisper in her brother's ear.\n\n\"But you require an answer, or why knock?\" retorted the strange man.\n\"_Pray_ walk in,\" he repeated. He was so polite.\n\nThe door swung behind them, and the trembling twins found themselves\nalone with the Wizard in a very large cave, where the walls glowed with\nphosphorescent light, while the further end was hidden in deep gloom.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE WIZARD AT HOME\n\n\n\"How do you do?\" said the Wizard, as if he remembered he had forgotten\nto ask. The Twins shyly shook hands with him and said they were quite\nwell, thank him. They didn't want to a bit, but he seemed to expect it.\n\"Let's talk matters over,\" he added with a smile. It was such a winning\nsmile that the children began to feel less uncomfortable. \"You're not\nalways quite content, I believe,\" and he rubbed his hands cheerfully\ntogether. \"That mother of yours interferes rather too much, eh?\" With a\nrapid movement he pushed his spectacles away on to the top of his bumpy\nbaldness, revealing a pair of small eyes with a red, slumbering glow in\nthem.\n\nAs Cyril didn't reply Dulcie ventured to remark, \"If you please, my\nbrother thinks she says 'don't' too often.\"\n\n\"But how do you know that?\" interrupted Cyril, who, though surprised,\ntook a more practical view of the situation.\n\n\"Because,\" slowly replied the Wizard, taking off his spectacles and\nscratching his big nose with them--\"because I was an optician in my\nyouth and made these glasses, through which I have only to look to see\npeople as they really are and not what they appear to be. [\"How clever!\"\nbroke in Dulcie under her breath.] I found out at a glance that you are\ndiscontented with your lot, and prefer to be free. You are tired of\ncontrol, eh? Isn't that the state of Home Affairs?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Cyril, once more full of his wrongs. \"It's only children who\nare not allowed to do what they want. Grown-ups do as they like; so does\nour dog; he goes out and comes in when he likes, eats when he wants,\nleaves what he likes--or rather, what he doesn't like; so does our cat.\nYou see,\" he continued, growing quite chummy, \"we are never allowed to\ndo this, that, and the other, like other people--animals, I mean--and\nthey are free and happy, and they needn't bother with lessons. It's so\nstupid being a child!\" he concluded plaintively, and Dulcie nodded a\nsimilar opinion.\n\n\"Just as I thought. Well, I shouldn't put up with it if I were you,\"\nreplied their new friend, smiling again, and scratching his nose with\nhis spectacles in his thoughtful, insinuating manner. \"I should advise\nyou to go your own way, seek your own fortunes, and find your own\nhappiness for yourselves. We must see what we can do to help you to\nfreedom. Eh?\"\n\nThe little guests did not think to thank him, for their eyes had begun\nto roam with curiosity over the strange things that were all about. The\ncave dwelling was queerly furnished, if it could be called furniture.\nThere were animals of all sizes and shapes, standing around stuffed,\nstaring, and immovable. Snakes, fish, small birds; an elephant just like\nlife standing rigidly next to a number of grinning stuffed monkeys;\nwhile a crocodile with open jaws looked snaps at a startled fawn with\nwide-set eyes. It was like a frozen Zoological Gardens.\n\n\"Once upon a time,\" remarked the Wizard, following the children's source\nof interest, \"all those poor creatures were children like you. Ah! their\nend was sad, very sad; very sad indeed!\"\n\nThe Twins didn't like that remark at all, nor did they relish the\nwinning smile this time that accompanied it. Then bursting out laughing\nhe exclaimed--\n\n\"Now I'll show you something funny,\" and he brought out from a corner\nwhat looked like a cinematograph. \"Look!\" he said as he touched a spring\nand set it going.\n\nThere was a hissing sound, and the gloom at the end of the cave passed\naway, and there marched along in living procession all the inhabitants\nof their Noah's Ark.\n\nDulcie and Cyril were transfixed with delight at this charming\nentertainment.\n\n[Illustration: _\"All those poor creatures were children\"_]\n\n\"And we don't pay anything to come in!\" remarked Cyril softly to his\nsister. \"It can't pay him. They're all going in for safety, you see--all\nthe birds, all the beasts----\"\n\n\"Where are the fishes?\" anxiously interrupted his little sister in a\nwhisper.\n\n\"Don't be such a Billy,\" retorted Cyril with a frown; \"the fishes are\nused to being drowned.\"\n\nAfter Noah went into the Ark and had shut the door, the gloom\nreappeared. The show was over.\n\n\"That's a little idea of my own,\" remarked the Wizard as he put the\nmachine away. \"Amusing, isn't it?\"\n\nThe Twins nodded. Then he invited the children to look through a hole in\nthe wall of the cave, and they saw a small room.\n\n\"That's my hospitable bedroom,\" he said, \"that I've endowed myself with.\nWhen I'm down in the mumps from being crouped up here so long, I go\nthere and wrap myself up in thoughts all nice and smug. It is fitted\nwith the epileptic light, rheumatic bells, and all the latest\ninfections.\n\n\"Now, what were we talking about before? Ah yes! My inventions. None of\nyour modern up-to-date rubbish, only inventions of the future for me.\nNone of your wireless telephony and wireless telegraphy for me. Listen\nto this.\" He called out--\n\n\"Number A. 1. Sea Power! Have you been successful in that last little\nfinancial venture, Sire?\"\n\nThere were rushing sounds, as of waves, at the far end of the cave, and\na muffled voice replied--\n\n\"No, Cabalistic One, I have lost again. Just my luck! Dash--sh--sh--\"\nwhich resolved itself into the swish-swish of rolling surf. Then all was\nquiet again.\n\n\"The reply of a friend of mine residing far away at a place called 'The\nBillows,'\" explained the Wizard in an offhand way. \"I help him in his\nlittle transactions, which are sometimes rather--in fact very--!\" and\nraising his arm he smothered a laugh in his yellow satin sleeve which\nwas not pleasant to hear. \"I always like to laugh up there,\" he\nexplained, as the children looked surprised.\n\nDulcie's hand stole into her brother's and she whispered him to \"Come\naway, come away, do, quick, and let's go home.\"\n\n\"But you haven't seen any of my marvellous jewellery yet,\" replied their\nhost, as though she had spoken aloud.\n\n\"Don't be timid\"--he was looking at them through those horrid spectacles\nagain, which laid bare all their thoughts. \"You know I am only answering\nthat knock of yours. Had you not required an answer, there would have\nbeen no information forthcoming. I should just like to show you these\nbracelets I have here.\" He pushed his glasses across his baldness and\ntook two jewelled golden circlets out of a satchel which hung from the\ncord of his gown. \"Other children have taken great interest in them,\"\nsaid the Wizard slowly--\"in fact have worn all the gems out. But I've\noften had them done up again; and you are both welcome to them--very\nwelcome to them, if you like. You see, _they_ are able to inform their\nwearers how to play at 'Birds, Beasts, and Fishes' _properly_.\"\n\n\"We know already,\" replied the boy and girl together, now restlessly\nimpatient to be gone.\n\n[Illustration: _He took two jewelled circlets out of a satchel_]\n\n\"I don't mean that tiresome educational game you were playing when you\nwere waiting in because of those few drops of rain. I mean the _real_\nthing--to be actually the real animals themselves in the realms of the\nBirds, Beasts, and Fishes. Only in that way can children realise how\nmuch nicer it is to be one of them, and to live a life free from the\n'don'ts' and vexatious care of their elders. Ah! _Now_ you're\ninterested!\"\n\nThe Twins were staring at him open-mouthed.\n\n\"These bracelets,\" continued the Wizard, whilst the ten catseye gems in\neach of them gleamed curiously as he spoke--\"see--aren't they\nbeautiful--\n\n\"THESE BRACELETS WILL EMPOWER THE WEARERS TO BECOME BIRD, BEAST, OR\nFISH, AT EACH WISH; TO REGAIN HIS SHAPE, OR HER SHAPE, AT WILL, AND TO\nLIVE IN ANY ATMOSPHERE--OR IN NONE! At every change of form a catseye\nwill disappear and return to me. With the last wish the wonderful\nadventures will be over, and the shape last chosen will remain to the\nend of existence. All these silly animals in my dwelling came at the\nlast to seek my help as they were dissatisfied. I did what I could,\nwhich wasn't much. Of course I don't want so many of them here,\" he\nadded carelessly, scratching his nose with his glasses, \"though they do\nhelp with my experiments--they do that--oh yes--but I always advise\ngetting experience first. They somehow got to know that _as children\nunder ten_ they could only pass _into_ my MOONLIGHT and never _out of\nit_; and that my faithful BROOK would not see them twice. So they came\nfor help in their last shapes as animals. Oh!\" he added, pulling himself\nup with evident pretence, \"I helped them right enough! They should have\nkept a pair of catseyes--I warned them--and they might have crossed my\nBROOK in some other shape than their own and changed to themselves the\nother side. But somehow they were not fortunate enough to manage that.\nSome people are so thoughtless. Pray excuse me, my dears, there's some\none at the knocker,\" and throwing the bracelets into a corner where they\nglittered strangely, the Wizard vanished.\n\n\"Come away, do come away,\" implored Dulcie, plucking at her brother's\nsleeve. \"I'm so frightened,\" she whimpered. \"Don't touch them. Oh! I\nwant to go home.\"\n\n\"But, sis, you heard what he said. We can't cross his horrid brook twice\nwhilst we are under ten. Crying won't help,\" replied the boy sturdily.\nNevertheless, he looked terribly frightened himself, although he patted\nher shoulder comfortingly. \"_I feel I must!_\" he muttered; \"besides,\nit's our only way out of here, and get out of here we must, and escape\nin some other shape.\"\n\nCyril hastily picked up the bracelets, put one on his wrist and the\nother on Dulcie's, and taking her by the hand dragged her right into the\ngloomy part of the cavern farther and farther away from the hateful\ndwelling and its awful master. He couldn't tell where he was leading\nher, but he ran blindly on until at last there was daylight in the\ndistance. And the Twins found themselves surrounded by haystacks,\nwindmills, and other country objects.\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed Cyril with delight, \"see how I've saved you, Dulcie!\"\n\n\"And a good job too,\" she replied with conviction.\n\nSo they wandered gaily on, laughing at anything and everything in the\nhappiness of their escape. They _were_ happy, anyhow; happy in their\nabsolute freedom. And were they not in the possession, too, of the\nprecious bracelets which were going to lead them into all sorts of\ndelightful adventures as soon as they chose! They could talk of nothing\nelse--and babbled on of how they would cross the brook as animals, and\nhow they would be wiser than all the other poor creatures, by keeping a\ngem in reserve and change to themselves on the other side.\n\nLittle could they guess of the troubles and adventures that awaited\nthem!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE BIRD-FAIRY SPEAKS\n\n\nThe children had been so busy chattering of fun to come, that it was all\nof a sudden they realised they were in a glade which looked quite\nenchanting, and with so many daisies about that Dulcie wanted to sit\ndown and weave those they gathered into a chain.\n\n\"Don't wait for that,\" said Cyril; \"carry them in my handkerchief.\"\n\nBut when he felt in his pockets the handkerchief was not there. He must\nhave dropped it. Dulcie proposed that they should retrace their steps,\nbut sweet sounds of innumerable birds came from the high trees around\nand filled the air--and they stayed to listen to the concert of trills,\nchirrups, gentle call-notes, cadences, and bursts of tremulous song. And\nnow, against the deep blue sky hovered what looked like a cloud which\nsuddenly separated and descended, and the Twins found themselves face to\nface with a most lovely being, surrounded by a ring of exquisite little\ncreatures, who danced to the continuous music of the Wood.\n\nCyril and Dulcie gazed at their beautiful companion, who stepped towards\nthem smiling graciously. She looked like a lovely young girl. Draped\nabout her was a wondrous garment of feathers of every hue. But she was\nstrange indeed, for her hands, clasped behind her, drew close together\ntwo enormous wings which sprouted from her shoulders and formed part of\nher white arms; whilst upon her shapely head among her black tresses was\nthe aigrette of the peacock. Her attendants had no aigrette, and their\nfeathered draperies were of sober brown. They were much smaller too,\nsmaller even than the Twins.\n\n\"I am the Bird-Fairy,\" she said in cooing tones, \"and you are in need of\nadvice. I can----\"\n\n[Illustration: _\"I am the Bird-Fairy,\" she said_]\n\n\"Not exactly, thanks. You _are_ pretty!\" stammered Cyril, interrupting.\n\"It's because--we want to go our own way--at home we--\" he stopped in\norder to shake off Dulcie, who was tugging at his jacket.\n\n\"If you please,\" asked Dulcie shyly, \"what advice?\"\n\n\"It would be exactly contrary to the Wizard's,\" and the Fairy looked\nserious.\n\n\"Thanks very much,\" interrupted Cyril; \"but we do want to seek our\nfortunes--to go on our adventures. It's a grand thing to do,\" he\nexplained, \"specially for her--she's a girl. Besides, we can't cross the\nBrook as children.\"\n\n\"Don't use those catseyes and it might be possible; that is, if you are\nwilling. Be warned! Let me carry you quickly to the other side and then\nrun home,\" said the Bird-Fairy anxiously.\n\nCyril shook his head, so Dulcie shook hers.\n\n\"It's always 'don't,'\" he muttered. \"It's sure to be all right, Dulcie,\"\nhe said turning to her.\n\n\"Are you sure?\" she inquired vaguely, with a lingering glance at the\nFairy, who had turned away sadly.\n\n\"It must be if we keep that last change as we arranged.\"\n\nFrom the trees now issued forth sweet wood-birds of many kinds--the air\nwas thick with them; they circled three times round the fairy ring and\nthen all flew away, and the children were once more alone.\n\n\"Wasn't that beautiful? Ah!\" sighed Dulcie, looking after them, \"I wish\nI could be one of them and sing like them.\"\n\nHardly were the words out of her mouth when Cyril began to stare about\nin amazement. His sister was nowhere to be seen. Her disappearance was\nso rapid that the earth might have swallowed her up.\n\n\"Dulcie, Dulcie,\" he cried. \"Wherever are you? Come back at once when I\ntell you!\"\n\nNothing stirred in the stillness except the waving branches of the tall\ntrees--and a little bird that came and perched upon his shoulder and\nbegan softly to trill into his ear what meant nothing to him. He stroked\nits smooth plumage. His hand touched something hard around its throat.\nHe parted the feathers and found--a golden circlet set with catseyes,\none of which was missing.\n\n\"Oh!\" he exclaimed. \"It's her!\"\n\nHe was too flustered to talk grammar. \"How fearfully quick the change\ncame about--only just a slight hint like that! I say! We _shall_ have\nto look out! I wonder how you like it, you pretty little bird! I wish I\ncould understand those chirping sounds!\"\n\nInstantly he became like her--a lark. He understood her at once, and the\npair flew away, singing gaily as they rose together, fluttering up and\nup, soaring high and ever higher into the blue azure of the cloudless\nsky.\n\nNever was there such a blissful sensation as that, flying heavenwards to\nthe music of their own making. Dancing at a party to the accompaniment\nof a piano was mere ordinary child's play compared to the invigorating\ndelight of this new experience. The earth looked like a map, and they\nrealised now what was meant by a \"bird's-eye view.\" After a time, still\nsinging, they dropped quickly down to earth. Then Cyril led the way into\nthe Wood, where they perched in one of the highest trees; and they\nhopped about, scanning their surroundings, and awaiting the visits of\nother little feathered inhabitants whose acquaintance they expected to\nmake. In the meantime they gleaned various scraps of news from certain\ntwitterings in the adjoining branches, some of which they clearly\noverheard.\n\nAnd it came as a shock that these twitterings were mostly complaints\nabout the scarcity of provisions; about starvation among the weak birds\nwho could not compete against the strong; about the unfair scrambling\nfor tit-bits which caused grievous bodily hurt. Then a painful rumour\nwas discussed about poor little Mother Starling, who had been taken\nunawares by a wild beast with terrible whiskers who was seen to pounce\nupon her and carry her off--and her husband, who still went about vainly\ncalling his mate and would not be comforted. They heard how, in the\nhospitals under the hedges, things were in a bad way--how one patient\nwas down with a broken wing, with no hope of getting well in time to\nmigrate; and of others incurable, and resigned.\n\nAll this so depressed the two joyous young larks that they flew some\ndistance away, when through the leaves they discovered in the tree next\nto them nothing less than the beautiful Bird-Fairy reclining asleep in\nthe branches with her retinue of little sprites in various attitudes all\naround her, their shining eyes wide open, on guard.\n\nThe absolute silence proved too monotonous for our lively pair. So away\nthey flew again--miles and miles away into the open country, enjoying to\nthe fullest freedom found at last, feeding in the sun-gilded fields,\ndrinking from the pools, bathing in the sandy roads, and flying for all\nthey were worth in their youthful spirits. Life like this was life\nindeed!\n\nTheir happiness seemed complete, when a sudden sense of horror struck\nthem both at the same moment, and hardly had they realised it when they\nnoticed something very large which had been poised above swooping\ntowards them, striking terror into their souls as it came. It was a\nsparrow-hawk, and death was upon them. Instinctively they swerved out of\nits terrible course, and commenced a series of short, zig-zag flights,\ntheir eyes starting nearly out of their little heads with fright. The\nenemy was strong on the wing and remorseless in purpose. The poor larks,\nwith hearts fluttering wildly, were becoming feeble and less alert. The\nnext second the hawk would seize one of its prey. The little bird gave\nan agonised chirp, dropped like a stone to the ground, and changed into\nDulcie, affrighted and panting for breath. She looked anxiously upwards.\nHer pursuer, baulked, turned and darted upon its second quarry. Too\nlate! Cyril had taken the strong hint, had also Wished, and now stood in\nsafety on the ground beside her.\n\n\"Come on!\" he shouted to the surprised and baffled enemy. \"Come on now,\nand I'll wring your ugly neck!\"\n\nBut the bird didn't wait to accept his polite invitation; and a moment\nlater it was out of sight, and out of mind, and the children found they\nwere again alone in the beautiful glade.\n\n\"I don't want to be a bird any more,\" said Dulcie when she had recovered\nher composure.\n\n\"No, it's too risky,\" admitted her brother. \"When that big dark thing\ncame in sight there was so little time to think what to do. That second,\ntoo,\" he added with a shudder, \"when I thought the brute had got you,\nwas too awful!\"\n\nShe felt quite important now at having gone through such peril.\n\n\"I could never have imagined that birds had such a lot to put up with,\"\nmused Cyril as they walked on--\"hunger and suffering, with the risk any\nmoment of being gobbled up!\"\n\n\"There ought to be some one to take care of the poor things,\" remarked\nDulcie. \"If it hadn't been for the catseyes we should have been eaten up\nand ended like that.\" She glanced at the bracelet on her wrist and\nadded, with a timid look at her brother, \"It seems safer as we are.\"\n\n\"Bosh!\" he rejoined. \"We want adventures. That's what we're going\nfor--and freedom. We had a ripping time as larks--till the end. It\ncertainly wasn't very comfortable then.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE LOST CATSEYE\n\n\nSomething was in their path; the Twins stooped to examine it and found\nit to be a Hedgehog standing on its hind legs, motionless, as though\nwaiting for somebody, and a smile was upon the face of that Hedgehog.\nAll at once a Porcupine sprung up beside it, as if out of the earth, and\nthe two appeared on the very best of terms.\n\n\"I _must_ get to know what they are talking about,\" exclaimed Dulcie.\n\"They seem to me to be arguing about something interesting. Oh, I do\nwish I could be all ears and understand them! If only I were something\nas small as a mole!\" Before Cyril could remonstrate a mole she was, went\noff blindly, and was quickly lost to view amongst the thick brushwood.\n\n\"I say! I do call that _mean_,\" he complained. \"Without even so much as\nasking my advice or saying good-bye. It's silly to become a stupid mole;\nit's a waste of a catseye. And all on account of a beastly spikey\nhedgehog and a beastly prickly porcupine. Halloa! Wherever have you all\ngot to?\"\n\nOut of humour, he looked right and left. They were nowhere to be seen.\n\"I hope she will soon come to her senses!\" he muttered. \"It isn't much\nfun being left like this.\"\n\nHe lay down on his back to await her, and kicked up his legs in the air\nas a pastime, whilst the tall trees above him waved their upper branches\nin the breeze. His glittering bracelet caught his attention, causing his\nthoughts to drift on adventures past and to come. He looked harder at\nit, and becoming concerned he carefully counted the missing catseyes. He\nhad only wished to be a lark, and to be himself. Yet THREE were gone!\nThe two first--and the _last_ one! \"Could this,\" he asked himself, \"be\nsome dreadful trick of the Wizard's--likely to occur at the last?\" Cyril\nturned pale at the possibility. \"Or could that last one have become\nloose and got lost?\" he pondered. If so, he realised that it must be\nfound. The thought about the Wizard worried him. He was uneasy, too,\nabout Dulcie, and sat up eagerly listening for her coming, and wondering\nwhat he had better do.\n\nMeanwhile, our little mole had groped its way to a hole whence could be\nheard sounds of a quaint voice. It was that of the Porcupine saying\npretty poetry softly to the accompaniment of a slow musical titter.\n\n    \"I'm a brave and dashing Porcupine--\n          Strong, elegant, and dandy;\n     And you a Hedgehog, bright as wine,\n          And sweet as sugar-candy.\n     Dear Hedgehog fair, say you'll be mine\n     And wed the dandy Porcupine!\n          Dear Hedgehog--bright as currant-wine,\n          Take me--as strong as brandy,\n     Be Mrs. Porcupine, I pray--\n     I've begged so often--don't say nay--\n          Be Mrs. Porky, sweet and jolly.\n              Nay--titter not,\n              Or off I'll trot\n          And straightway marry Molly.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" he observed after a long pause, during which the Hedgehog had\nremained silent and had never moved a quill in response, \"There goes\nMolly the Mole!\"\n\nMolly the Mole, who had distracted his attention, heeded him not, but\nwent and struck up an acquaintance with the little stranger in the hole\nclose by. For some time they remained in close conversation. It was not\nat all an amusing conversation, as Dulcie explained later, and she was\nnot sorry when the danger of a horse's hoofs galloping nearly on top of\nthem caused them to run off. They got separated, and Dulcie was glad to\nbring herself again into the possession of her own five senses. Peeping\nfrom behind a tree, she saw Molly and the Hedgehog walking off together,\nleaving the Porcupine disconsolate. And then she beheld a young girl\nwith short red hair dismount from her horse, walk back rapidly towards\nsome glittering object, and pick it up.\n\nDulcie recognised at once the curious colouring of a catseye. She\nglanced at the bracelet on her wrist; all was in order there. Could it\npossibly belong to Cyril? The thought became a certainty. \"Stop!\" she\ncalled out loudly.\n\nToo late--horse and rider were off.\n\n\"Stop! Stop thief!\" shouted Dulcie as she ran after them as fast as she\ncould.\n\nNow Cyril, who was not the soul of patience at any time, had come to the\nconclusion that it was of no use waiting any longer, and that it would\nbe better to be up and doing. So he got up and pondered again and again\nwhat to do.\n\n\"Any way I'd better risk it and become a cat,\" he decided, \"for like\nthat I've more chance of finding Dulcie, and of finding my catseye. It\nwould be useful to be able to see in dark corners. But I'll search about\nas I am first.\"\n\nHe spent some time peering and searching in the Wood. But without\nsuccess. Neither Dulcie nor the catseye was to be found.\n\nJust then he heard a noise. He stepped behind a tree, and peering round\nfrom behind it he beheld not far off a young lady dismount from her\nhorse and pick up something. Cyril recognised it as his catseye. He\napproached timidly to claim it, when she leapt up and cantered off,\nevidently not seeing or hearing the boy who was running, shouting with\nlusty lungs: \"Stop! Hi! Stop thief!\"\n\nLittle did he know that his little sister, almost exhausted, was further\nbehind gasping out the same cry--while big tears from helplessness and\nanxiety were coursing down her hot cheeks. For the trees hid the\nchildren from view at the distance they were apart, as well as from the\nrider; and shout as they would, their cries could not be heard by one\nanother.\n\nCyril soon lost sight of the new owner of the gem, and didn't know what\nto do, or where to trace it, or, still worse, what had become of Dulcie.\nAs he came to a narrow footpath which branched off from the main track,\nhe went quickly along it in the hope that it might prove to be a short\ncut to somewhere. As it turned out he was lucky, for it proved to be a\nshort cut to a Town, and hardly had he entered one of the streets than\nat the other end he saw entering it the rider on her horse. He ran\ntowards her, but only arrived just as the girl with red hair disappeared\nthrough the door of a large white house, and the horse was being ridden\noff by her groom.\n\nSo Cyril sauntered on, anxiously meditating how to get his belonging\nback. The present possessor would never believe his tale, or if she did\nthe less likely would she be to part with a thing so valuable--and then\nperhaps only for a hundred pounds. He concluded he must take it--it was\nhis--at least it was more his than hers, and his life might depend upon\nit. So he decided that the best thing he could do was to change into a\nmonkey, climb into the house by one of the open windows, grab the gem as\nsoon as found, and escape as quickly as he could.\n\nBut no sooner did the quaint little monkey stand there than it was\npounced upon by a dirty brown hand, whilst a foreign voice exclaimed--\n\n\"Ah, ha! So dere you are, my leetle friend! You shall not escape from me\nagain so soon, Jacko. Ah no!\"\n\nIt was a ragged boy with a hurdy-gurdy, who had caught hold of the\nlittle twisting, mouthing creature and was already getting it into a\nminiature soldier's coat with brass buttons. A ludicrous doll's hat with\na long feather upstanding was quickly produced from his pocket, put on\nits head, and the elastic slipped under its chin. A long cord was\nwhipped out, fixed to the red coat, and a sudden jerk hitched up the\nwhole arrangement on to the barrel-organ in a twinkling.\n\nNow Dulcie had also taken the short cut into the Town, and was just\ngoing to enter a large garden in order to rest her weary limbs after her\nuseless chase, when the boy and monkey attracted her attention and she\nstopped. She would have laughed, so comic was the sight, but filled with\nconcern at a rough jerk she cried: \"Oh, please don't. You'll hurt it. Do\nlet it go!\"\n\n\"Let go, signorina? Ah no! Me take care never risk no more. No Jacko,\nthen poor Pietro starve. Just you watch him, then give poor Pietro\npenny. Now, Jacko, we're 'ungry.\"\n\nHad Dulcie only known the monkey was not Jacko, but Cyril, she would\nhave been still more concerned. The lad turned the handle of the\ninstrument, and to its cracked tune she was amused to see the monkey\ntake off its hat with a jerky movement, replace it, dance about, salute,\nand perform other antics in the most approved and undignified manner.\n\nThe boy pulled his forelock. After much fumbling Dulcie found a penny\nand gave it to him. A sunny smile was on his swarthy face as he said\n\"Grazia!\" He kissed the monkey affectionately, and putting it in the\ninner pocket of his ragged coat, moved away.\n\nAnd the monkey, peering out of that pocket, blinked twice so meaningly\nat Dulcie that she stood there and gazed after it, puzzled, whilst the\nboy trudged off whistling. Dulcie then found a shady seat, and having\nnothing better or more hopeful to do, determined to rest there. Now,\nhowever, that she had leisure to think it over, she didn't at all like\nthe loss of that gem. Supposing by some trick or other of that horrid\nWizard all the rest should drop out and not be found--at some dreadfully\nawkward moment! What would poor Cyril do? And she also might come to be\nin the same plight! These thoughts were too horrible! So she began\nsaying some poetry she had learnt in order to keep her mind on other\nmatters.\n\nShe wasn't enjoying herself very much. The time seemed endless, and a\nneighbouring clock which chimed the quarters didn't help it to pass any\nfaster; and the longer Dulcie waited, the more anxious she became. She\ngave up reciting poetry, or what stood for poetry, and her only thought\nbecame: \"If only Cyril would come back!\" In her fear she began to give\nup hope of his ever coming back at all, and decided to try and discover\nif there were such a thing as a policeman about, to whom she might\nconfide her troubles.\n\nSuddenly there arose a hullabaloo. Such a barking and rushing, and the\nnext moment a large black cat sprang on the seat beside her,\nfrightening her very much. There was a terrified shriek--a gratified\nWish--and Cyril found himself on a bench next Dulcie with a great hound\nclinging to his sailor collar at the back.\n\nWith a cry of fear she helped him in his struggles to get free; the\nanimal, astonished and abashed, slunk away with its tail between its\nlegs, and the brother and sister fell into one another's arms. Never\nbefore had they known how fond they were of one another--for never had\nthey been so pleased to meet again.\n\n\"I waited so patiently,\" said Dulcie; she didn't add anything about\nthoughts of a friendly policeman, but inquired quickly--\n\n\"Do you know you've lost your catseye?\"\n\nHe nodded and grinned.\n\n\"Have you got it?\"\n\nHe parted his lips. It was between his teeth. He pressed it back into\nthe empty setting of his bracelet, saying--\n\n\"I'd no time to wish sooner. I'll never set Towser to chase our poor\nlittle Miranda again, you bet! How horrid it must be to be a permanent\ncat!\"\n\n\"However did you get it back?\"\n\n\"Hallo! Hi!\" was all she got in answer, and the next moment he was\npommelling into, and being pommelled by, a lanky youth.\n\n\"I'll teach you--to shy stones--at a--poor defenceless--cat,\" gasped\nCyril, hitting out right and left, his face scarlet, and his hair all\nruffled. How they did go for one another! First one was down and the\nother on top; then the pair, all legs and arms, were the other way up;\nthen they rolled together over and over, till at last Cyril had won a\nbrilliant victory before he allowed Dulcie to drag him away from the\ndefeated adversary, who, as soon as he was free, slunk off miserably,\nwith one hand to his eye and his handkerchief to his nose.\n\n\"I'm all right,\" exclaimed Cyril, in answer to her anxious inquiry,\nshaking himself into order. \"That _was_ a lark! No--I'm not hurt, not\nreally. Served him jolly!\"\n\nDulcie noticed that he had a lump on his forehead from the fray.\n\n\"I'm glad you won the fight with that boy, but I don't know what it was\nabout one little bit. And, Cyril, aren't these adventures rather\ntoo--too dangerous, don't you think?\"\n\n\"Of course they're not, they're awfully jolly.\"\n\n\"Now tell me all about it from the very beginning,\" said his sister as\nthey strolled off together. So Cyril gave her a spirited record of his\nadventures whilst she listened eagerly, anxious not to miss a single\nword.\n\n\"I'll begin at the beginning,\" he said. \"Well, the funny monkey--me, you\nknow----\"\n\n\"_You_, Cyril?\" and Dulcie gasped with surprise.\n\n\"Yes; don't interrupt, there's a dear. I quite enjoyed my little\nperformance on the organ before you. But by the second and third time I\nhad to do it I got sick and tired of it. The weather seemed to turn cold\nand made me shiver. Then I got fearfully hungry--coppers were given me,\nbut no food did I get, and I felt I had had enough of the business. The\nboy's pocket, too, was draughty--there was a hole in it--besides which I\ngot the cramp. It wouldn't have been much use trying to escape. Besides,\nthe monkey idea was all wrong, for people were passing all the time,\nand, had they noticed a free monkey on the track of a catseye, a crowd\nwould have collected, and perhaps that grinning idiot might have gone\nfor me again. I couldn't very well change to myself inside of his\njacket, nor during a performance in public, as it might have attracted\nattention. So I was obliged to wait for my chance, which came at last\nwhen he picked up an end of a cigarette and after begging a match was\nbusy lighting it at a sheltered corner. I was on the pavement in a\nminute, managed to slip out of my idiotic red coat to which the cord was\nattached, flung off that absurd hat, and remembering my first idea I\nchanged into a cat, calmly sat down on the inner side of some area\nrailings, and peered through to watch the fun.\"\n\n\"Yes, and what happened then?\" interrupted Dulcie excitedly.\n\n\"Well, you never saw such a face as that boy's when he found the\nmonkey's coat and hat on the ground without any monkey inside of them!\nHe said some foreign words and commenced running about hunting for me\neverywhere, whilst I trotted off before his very eyes. Ha, ha, ha!\"\n\nHis sister pealed with laughter and delight.\n\n\"As quickly as possible I reached the big house where I had seen the\ngirl with the red hair go in after she had picked up my catseye.\"\n\n\"I saw her pick it up, too,\" broke in Dulcie.\n\nBut Cyril went on: \"The windows were still open. I jumped up from the\nbalcony on to a stone ledge, and then by good luck right into the\nbedroom of that bothersome young lady. She was reading a book. We did\nstartle one another!\n\n\"'Oh, you darling sweet pussikins!' she said. 'Ah,' I thought, 'not so\ndarling as all that.' And the next moment I was lifted clumsily on to\nher lap and stroked and patted, whilst I looked anxiously around for my\ncatseye in the intervals--when she wasn't kissing my nose, which was\ndisturbing and uncomfortable, and girls do like kissing so. Then I saw\nit gleaming on the dressing-table close to the window all the time, and\nI became impatient. The stupid baby language and kisses bothered me, so\nI stopped it by giving her face an ugly scratch.\"\n\n\"Oh, how rude!\" exclaimed Dulcie, shocked.\n\n\"Whereupon she gave me an angry slap, which I didn't feel a bit through\nthe fur, and pushed me down roughly on the floor, looked at her face in\nthe glass, and then I heard her bathing it in the dressing-room. I say!\nhad I changed then, wouldn't she have been jolly surprised to find a\nstrange boy in there! So, remaining her darling pussikins,\" he continued\nwith a smile, \"I just jumped on the table, took hold of my catseye in my\nmouth, and escaped by the window before she returned, and waved my tail\nin good-bye--stupid things, tails!\" With a laugh, which was echoed by\nDulcie, Cyril, grown serious again, went on with his narrative:\n\n\"But just as I alighted on the ground a boy began shying stones at me,\nwhich it was awfully difficult to dodge. One of them caught me such a\nwhack on the side, and he laughed and shouted 'Hurrah, got him!'--Wasn't\nI glad when I saw him just now!--Well, I was just going to change then,\nwhen there was a great barking, and a whole lot of dogs seemed to be\nbearing down on me. I thought I'd make myself scarce, so I tore off,\nand as they were on my track I simply cut. I flew along the muddy\nstreets with the whole pack at my heels, with shouts and laughter\nringing in my ears, scampering past them, past houses, past traffic,\nwhizzing along for my life with the barking din and the pattering feet\nalways following. At last, as a last hope, I dodged round, doubled back,\nthe noise stopped, and I took refuge in a quiet garden, awfully puffed,\nand jumped on a seat next some one resting there.\"\n\n\"Me,\" said Dulcie, with a sigh of relief.\n\n\"Yes, I found it was you, Sis. I Wished, and you're a trump, for I was\ntired, and you rid me of that big dog.\" Dulcie glowed with pride and\npleasure at that. \"I never knew, though, that that brute was following\nme. Fortunately for me he gripped hold of the bracelet round my neck.\"\n\n\"How well you tell a story, Cyril,\" she said simply.\n\nCyril smiled contentedly. \"That's nothing.\"\n\nThen she inquired anxiously: \"Do you think it was the Wizard's trick,\nthat losing of the stone?\"\n\n\"P'raps,\" replied Cyril musingly. \"He's quite ugly enough for anything.\nBut I don't think so,\" he added reassuringly; \"it must have been an\naccident--got loose, or something.\"\n\nDulcie's mind being eased, she then told her own story as a mole. She\ncouldn't remember the Porcupine's verses exactly, but she repeated what\nshe could, and they had a good laugh over them;--before, she had been\nblind to the fun in them. \"I repeated them to Molly,\" continued Dulcie,\nrippling over with fun, \"and she was so offended she vowed she'd never\nmarry him. So I cured him of his vanity--and serve him right!\"\n\n\"But why did the Hedgehog titter? That was what you wanted to find out,\nwasn't it?\" asked Cyril.\n\n\"I suppose it was expecting the Porcupine's verses.\"\n\n\"Suppose?\"\n\n\"I forgot to ask.\"\n\nCyril expressed his opinion that she had been a softy, that those\ncreatures weren't worth while chumming up with, and they couldn't have\nmuch sense, and it didn't matter, after all, what they thought or did.\n\n\"I shan't tell you any more, then,\" replied Dulcie, offended.\n\n\"Yes, do,\" begged Cyril, curious to know the end. So after he had begged\nthree times, she gave way, and informed him she was glad never to have\nbeen born a mole, for Molly was in terribly low spirits and had\napologised for them, but the reason was because all her family's skins\nhad been taken off their backs in order to keep fashionable ladies from\ntaking cold--as these ladies seemed to think that it was a prettier and\nwarmer skin than their own. And Molly hourly expected each moment to be\nher last--and advised her new-found friend to prepare for the same\nfate--which was all very terrifying. \"So I made haste to wish to be my\nown self again,\" concluded Dulcie.\n\nCyril made her promise faithfully never again to run off like a mole or\nanything else, which--being only too anxious to avoid another\nseparation--she willingly did.\n\n\"The poor animals,\" she remarked earnestly, \"all seem so helpless.\nThere's no one ever to take their part or help them.\"\n\n\"Ah, you think that because we've not yet changed into something really\ngreat,\" answered Cyril with conviction.\n\n\"What a gloomy looking place we've come to! I was so interested\nlistening and talking, I didn't notice the way we've come,\" broke in his\nsister, gazing at what appeared like a Jungle in front of them.\n\"Surprising how we got here, isn't it?\"\n\n\"I never noticed either, but it'll do beautifully,\" replied the boy,\nquite satisfied.\n\n\"But it doesn't seem very nice to be a Beast,\" argued Dulcie\nreflectively, her thoughts harking back; \"somehow it's so unpeaceful.\"\n\n\"I tell you that's because we haven't tried anything great,\" repeated\nher brother with an emphatic movement of his hand and a decided toss of\nhis head. \"_If_,\" he said, and hesitated--\"_if_ we were lions\" (he\nwaited, then finding they were both as they were he went on, reassured),\n\"then we would know what it is to rule everybody, keep our friends in\norder, and eat up our enemies.\"\n\n\"But I don't want to eat up any one,\" protested Dulcie. \"I think it\nwould be very disagreeable.\"\n\n\"I should think it must taste rather nice--_they_ like it. Besides, one\nnever knows till one tries,\" remarked her brother. \"I want to be a\n_lion_!!\"\n\nAt once the King of Beasts confronted Dulcie. With a shriek she tore\naway as fast as her small feet could scamper. Then she changed her mind.\nAnd as a lioness, full of courage, she rejoined him.\n\nGrand beasts they were as they bounded into the Jungle with a mighty\nroar. Startled creatures hurried out of their path, and the very\nlandscape appeared insignificant in their presence. Monarchs of all they\nsurveyed! This at last was splendid freedom.\n\nAt a river, sparkling like glass in the burning sun, they stopped and\nslaked their thirst, lapping up the water greedily. Then they turned\nagain into the tangle of vegetation and laid themselves down to rest.\n\nPurring with delight in the hot sunshine, they lazily lashed their\ntails. The lion was just dozing when he was roused by something heavy\nand strong winding itself in great coils around his limbs and body. He\ngave forth a roar half of anger, half of fear. Struggle as he would he\ncould not free himself; it was a huge boa-constrictor that was closing\nabout him like bands of iron, and was just about to crush him to death\nwhen the lion disappeared and a little boy in a blue serge suit wriggled\naway, sobbing out: \"Oh, Mother! Dulcie!\"\n\nJust then Cyril's eye caught sight of a rifle pointed from a\nneighbouring tree. To his horror it was aimed straight at the recumbent,\nlazily-blinking lioness. His heart stood still with terror. He could\nneither scream nor stir. Quite forgotten was the huge reptile, which had\njerked back its head in astonishment at the remarkable disappearance of\nits quarry, with an undulating movement of surprise in that part of its\nanatomy which might be termed its neck. But now the creature was quite\nclose to the lad and rearing itself up to strike at him when--crack!\ncrack! crack! Bullets were whizzing all around. Cyril, bewildered,\nstumbled over the dead body of the reptile and fell to the ground. The\nnext moment he felt Dulcie's hair over his face as she pulled him on to\nhis feet.\n\n\"Great snakes!\" exclaimed Lord Algy. Captain Waring, who was eagerly\npeering through the branches of another tree close by, laughed as he\nrejoined, \"Only one, my friend.\"\n\n\"Eh, what? Well I'm--\" drawled his lordship, craning his neck and\nletting his eyeglass drop and dangle--he had stopped short in his\nsentence, not seeming quite to realise what he was. \"By Jove!\" he now\nadded, \"I certainly thought I hit one of those two fine brutes; most\nremarkable thing I ever saw in my life.\"\n\n\"_Didn't_ see, you mean, my dear Algy,\" replied the Captain coolly and\nnot without vexation. \"_I've_ seen a dead serpent before. Where have\nthey moved to? that's the question: we shall have to track them again. A\ndead snake in the grass is not worth two fine lions in the Jungle.\"\n\n\"No, my dear fellow, I don't think so either--I agree with you\nthere--it's quite the contrary, of course,\" remarked his lordship with a\ncertain amount of energy.\n\nMeanwhile, Dulcie and Cyril, with white, scared faces, were fleeing hand\nin hand like pixies among the trees.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nIN THE FISH-KING'S REALM\n\n\nIt was only when they reached a meadow full of wild flowers, and the\nTwins, worn out with their long run, lay down to rest, that Dulcie\nremarked with a sigh of relief--\n\n\"We never do seem to be so safe as when we are us!\"\n\n\"We won't be Birds nor Beasts any more,\" replied Cyril. \"Hark! What's\nthat snoring so loud?\"\n\n\"It's not snoring. I believe it's the waves!\" Saying which Dulcie jumped\nup and Cyril did the same. The children found the meadow they were in\nwas on a cliff, and that below were far-reaching sands, and in the\ndistance heaved the glorious deep blue sea.\n\nThey clapped their hands and danced with delight, and when that\nperformance was over they carefully descended the steps cut in the face\nof the cliff which led down to the shore.\n\nVery soon their shoes and stockings were slung round their necks, and\nthey were running over the hot sand to where the wavelets came rippling\nto meet their little feet.\n\nSo immersed were they in paddling that it was a little time before they\nnoticed some one sitting amongst the rocks which peeped out of the\nsurface of the ocean a short distance away. A hand was beckoning to\nthem, and thinking it might be some one who wanted help, Cyril declared\nhe would go to the rescue, and began to wade towards the spot.\n\nDulcie, fearful of his going alone, and not wishing to be left behind in\nthe adventure, hurried next to him. The current was rather strong and\nthe water got deeper as they went; but they didn't think of their\nclothes (which were no longer wholly dry), but only of the rescue. When\nthey reached the rocks they found to their surprise a very quaint figure\ncalmly seated there, who motioned them in a very grand manner to a place\non each side of him. \"Pray be seated. Good morning!\"\n\n\"Good morning!\" exclaimed the visitors politely, taking the places\nindicated.\n\n\"Good afternoon!\" said the Fish-King. \"Do you mind holding my crown one\nmoment, my dear?\"\n\nDulcie took it with awe. He was a very fine gentleman indeed, and the\ntwo children couldn't help staring at him as he smoothed his hair in\nsilence. He was short and stout, in a costume not unlike that of\nHarlequin in the pantomime, only the colouring was green and blue. His\ngoggle green eyes and wide, down-drawn mouth made him look comically\nlike a carp, whilst the pointed wisp of white beard on his chin and the\nfour long white hairs he was winding round his bald head were not really\nan improvement to his appearance.\n\n\"Thank you kindly, my dear,\" he said as he took his crown and put it on.\nIt was beautifully made, entirely of the loveliest small shells, and\nwhen he wore it he looked every inch just what he happened to be.\n\nIn spite of his queer face, the two visitors felt quite at ease with\nhim, and were sure that with such a pleasant voice, too, he must be very\nnice indeed.\n\n\"What are you King of?\" inquired Dulcie with a friendly smile.\n\n\"Of the fish,\" he answered, patting her cheek. \"I'm right glad to see\nyou.\"\n\nSuddenly remembering, the little couple at once donned their shoes and\nstockings as a sign of respect.\n\n\"It's very healthy, I suppose,\" remarked Dulcie, \"living out at sea like\nthis?\"\n\n\"I suppose so, my lady,\" answered the Fish-King drily. Dulcie liked\nbeing called \"my lady.\" \"Except,\" he continued thoughtfully, \"for an\noccasional attack of shingles I don't ail much.\" Then turning to Cyril\nhe asked: \"How's that old rascal of a Wizard? laughing in his\ndressing-gown, eh?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry I don't know, your Majesty,\" replied the boy, surprised at\nthe question and the way it was put.\n\n\"You will soon get to know me. I only hope you may not be disappointed.\nYou certainly wouldn't have been disappointed with my ancestor.\"\n\n\"Who's your ancestor?\" asked Dulcie bluntly. \"Was he a King-fisher too?\"\n\n\"Not at all. He was Neptune.\"\n\n\"Where did he live?\"\n\n\"In Imagination.\"\n\n\"Where's that?\"\n\nCyril raised his eyebrows at her lack of manners.\n\n\"You turn to the right,\" answered his Majesty patiently, with a gesture\nthat way, \"follow your nose, mount a hill north of the Fore Head, and\nthere you are. See?\"\n\nThe Twins couldn't think what answer to make--though he seemed to expect\none--so they gave a little nervous laugh.\n\n\"Just see, there's a dear boy,\" said the Fish-King kindly, in order to\nchange the subject--\"just see if you've got a copy of the _Financial\nMarket_ about you, will you? Or maybe you know what the Financial Time\nis? That would do quite as well. Oh, beg pardon--I see you've no watch\non; pawnbroken, eh?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean; I've never heard of all that,\"\nadmitted Cyril.\n\n\"But you _have_ heard there's been another slump!\"\n\n\"What?\" ventured Dulcie.\n\n\"In what? Why, in Seaweed, of course. Just my luck. Fishy transactions\nnever do pay, though they always promise to. But,\" he added, rousing\nhimself, dismal still, \"you must both come down soon and have a cup of\nsea or something--it's my birthday, and there's going to be jinks\nbelow.\"\n\n\"Birthday! How delightful!\" said Dulcie.\n\n\"Why, how old can you possibly be?\" asked Cyril, \"if it's not impolite\nto ask.\"\n\n\"Quite right. Let me see,\" said the Fish-King thoughtfully. \"Ah, now I\nremember. I'm just several millions of years--it takes a little time to\nfix the number exactly--and eleven days.\"\n\n\"That _is_ old, Sire,\" murmured Dulcie as she regained her breath, which\nhad been taken away at the idea of so many birthdays.\n\n\"Old? Nonsense, my lady.\"\n\n\"How can it be 'and eleven days' if it's your birthday, your Worship?\"\nasked Cyril, thinking he'd go one better than Sire.\n\n\"Because, my Philosopher, I prefer the new-fangled Calendar which puts\none on eleven days; in that way, when I'm told I don't look my age, I\nknow it's true, and not flattery. See?\"\n\nThe children were not quite satisfied with the explanation.\nNevertheless, they were pleased to find it the most natural thing in the\nworld to be getting chummy with a Fish-King.\n\n\"Now, do come below waves and have a cup of sea or something,\" he\nrepeated, looking appealingly first at one and then at the other.\n\n\"Thank you very much,\" replied his little guests. \"But,\" said the\ncautious Dulcie, \"sha'n't we be drownded?\"\n\n\"You both have your catseyes on, I presume?\" And his Majesty stared\nanxiously in their faces. \"Yes, I see you have. Very well, then. Sit\nsteady! Halloa there,\" shouting downwards. \"Lift, please!\" Then\nmuttering, \"It's high time we went,\" he smiled. His smile was so\nunutterably comic that it was to a merry burst of childish laughter that\nall the rocks descended as quickly as the tide rose above them, and the\ntrio, smiling still, found themselves gently deposited at the bottom of\nthe Ocean.\n\n\"Wonderful thing water pressure!\" remarked the Fish-King. Then, helping\nthem off the rocks, he added with a gracious wave of the hand, \"Welcome\nto my Domain!\" And the Twins bowed so prettily that he appeared much\ngratified.\n\n\"Ah!\" he said, taking them by the hand and stopping still, \"I see Fido.\nFido, Fido!\" At his call a fine dog-fish came forward at a fast swim;\nand its head was patted graciously, whilst its tail wagged with\ncontentment. \"Now,\" resumed his Majesty, \"we'll go to the Revels;\" and\nthey proceeded at a smart walk as buoyantly through the clear water as\nthrough air.\n\nThe sea-scape was perfectly beautiful, but as the Fish-King once more\nseemed deep in melancholy, the Twins gazed silently around. They were\nevidently walking along the King's Road, for it was wide enough to walk\nthree abreast; the sand was so fine and glittering that it looked like\ngold dust; the path was bordered by exquisite shells. On either side\nwere gardens of variegated anemones. Here and there an old sodden boot\nlay about untidily, at which the Fish-King frowned and looked uneasy.\nThey passed oyster beds, where, besides oysters, all sorts of fish,\nlarge and small, were fast asleep, breathing heavily with their mouths\nwide open. Now and again a squadron of lobsters or jelly-fish would\nconfront them, and respectfully divide and wait until the royal\nprocession of three had passed through.\n\nAt last they came to a great object ahead which turned out to be a\nsunken ship, and the children heard the Fish-King say: \"Welcome, my\ndears, to my home! I hope your visit to 'The Billows' will please you.\"\nThey eagerly assured him it would, for they felt certain they were going\nto have a jolly time.\n\nOn board everything was most snug and trim; and in the large saloon he\nled his two little guests to one end of the long table, where they found\nbiscuits, tinned meats, jam, and other nice things, which they enjoyed\nvery much, whilst their host looked on with a satisfied expression.\n\n\"_Now_ will you take a cup of something?\" he asked--and seemed relieved\nwhen they declined with thanks. \"I'm a seatotaller myself,\" he observed;\n\"I don't drink like a fish, nor go in for cups.\"\n\n\"I'm glad we said 'No, thank you,'\" whispered Dulcie to Cyril, who\nnodded assent. \"Why are you so sad, Mr. Fish-King?\" she asked when she\nhad satisfied her hunger, and she stroked his great flabby hand.\n\nHe didn't answer for a moment, then trying to twist up his mouth into a\nsmile he said as he roused himself: \"I fear I'm somewhat glum for a\nbirthday party, but I've had so many of them; besides, I'm bothered\nabout the slump! One would think Seaweed safe enough for a vested\ninterest, surely. From all accounts, they must have been cooked--softly,\ntoo, in the bargain! Can you make it out, my dears?\"\n\n[Illustration: _Its head was patted graciously_]\n\nThe Twins couldn't understand it at all, and shook their heads quite\nemphatically over the matter.\n\n\"Now, let's go abaft,\" suggested his Majesty. He rose, and looked at\nthem with a ray of cheerfulness. \"We'll watch the Water Sports. I revel\nin them when they are good--usually they go bad.\"\n\nThe children readily agreed. \"It's lucky you happened to come on my\nbirthday,\" he continued, \"for you may be amused. Here's a list of the\ndifferent Courses,\" and he took up a Menu from the table: \"they'll race\nthrough them like old boots!\"\n\n\"Do they race better than new ones?\" inquired Cyril.\n\n\"They've more experience,\" replied his Majesty. \"What is about to\nbegin,\" he said quite gaily as they followed him up the gangway,\n\"is--let me see; ah yes--'Turtle Mocked.' Now just look at Fido\"--he\nleaned over the side, the Twins did likewise. \"He's turning turtle!\" And\nthe three watched with approval the antics of the dog-fish as he turned\nhis somersaults; and they applauded this first item on the programme.\n\n\"Next Innings!\" shouted his Majesty. \"Fish balls bowled,\" he read from\nthe Menu. And taking their plaice, a game of cricket began. \"They think\nthey can play,\" he whispered, \"and that is the way I humour them, or\nthey might begin to cry, and I hate anything that reminds me of blubber.\nBut how can any one in their senses imagine plaice fielding at slip?\nWhy, they don't know cricket from a bat--nor never will at this rate, I\nshould think.\"\n\n\"Once in London, we saw such a lot of fish in the big shops there,\"\nvolunteered Dulcie in a burst of confidence. The next moment she wished\nshe hadn't spoken, for Cyril was frowning at her and shaking his head.\nShe glanced timidly at the Fish-King. He evidently didn't mind, for he\nmerely remarked with a sigh: \"Ah dear! One of these days my poor\nsubjects will be sucked from the sea through a 2d. tube, straight to\nBillingsgate--I suppose that'll be the time for slumps and no mistake!\"\n\n\"I suppress the Sole and Eel Course!\" he cried suddenly. There was a\ngreat stir in the water at this intimation. \"It's a dance,\" he muttered.\n\"Let's get on with the Cod Stakes.\" He put down the Menu and threw\noverboard some nets and fishing tackle. Then began a highly amusing\nexhibition by old fish showing the young ones how to nibble the bait\nwithout taking the hook, and if taken by some mischance, how to get\nunhooked--how to avoid the nets, and other life-saving dodges which his\nMajesty explained to the astonished Twins.\n\nBut hardly had he finished when a fat young gurnet who was taking part\nin the sports did get hooked, and clumsily extricating himself went off\nleaving a thin red track behind him.\n\n\"The poor thing is hurt!\" exclaimed Dulcie.\n\n\"Oh no,\" said the King; \"a herring-bone stitch is all that's necessary.\"\n\n\"I know how to do that,\" replied Dulcie, \"but I thought it was only used\nto make dress things look pretty; I never heard of it for mending fish.\"\nThe excitement continued unabated.\n\nWhen the revels were over, the little strangers expressed their\nenjoyment of the birthday party, and thought perhaps they ought to be\nsaying good-bye. Their kind host wouldn't hear of their going yet--they\nhadn't even seen the Cable which he was just going to visit.\n\n\"Who's won the prizes?\" asked Cyril as they got off the ship.\n\n\"I have,\" replied his Majesty.\n\n\"Not the winners of the races and of the sports?\" said the boy, in\namazement.\n\n\"They can't expect to win the races and win the prizes too. _I_ have won\nthe prizes.\"\n\n\"What have you won, your Worship?\"\n\n\"I forget,\" he answered vaguely. \"I've won so many in all these years,\nand they get so mis-laid--for all the world like addled eggs!\"\n\n\"But you've only just--\" commenced Cyril.\n\n\"Don't tease,\" said Dulcie, pulling at her brother's sleeve. And so the\nmatter dropped.\n\nWhilst Cyril and the Fish-King were talking about the price the crown\nmight fetch were he obliged to part with it on account of his recent\nfinancial losses, Dulcie was so busy admiring the beautiful creatures\nswimming about, that she stumbled and fell before her companions could\nwarn her that the Cable was lying in her path. She was soon up, and it\nwas the Fish-King now who was lying prone on the ground, but his\nattitude was intentional; he was listening intently. At a sign from him\nthey did likewise. The billows overhead were lashing up the spray, and\nthrough the rushing sound could be vaguely heard: \"Number A. 1. Sea\nPower! Has that nice little venture proved successful, Sire?\"\n\nIt was the Wizard's voice. The Twins stared at one another with startled\neyes.\n\n\"No, thou Cabalistic One,\" shouted the Fish-King, and got up with an\nimpatient sigh, so he didn't hear what sounded like the echo of mocking\nlaughter which the children recognised before they rejoined him. \"Some\none's at the bottom of that business, I'll be bound,\" he grumbled. \"I'm\nafraid I'm too green, and ye gods and little fishes alone know how I\nmanage to be, for I've a fit of the blues often enough,\" and he glanced\nat the garment he wore. \"Now come and inspect my Workhouse.\" He led them\naway in silence to a small lugger, also wrecked, commandeered by his\nMajesty.\n\n\"What a lot of residences you have, Sire,\" remarked Dulcie timidly,\nrealising the situation.\n\n\"One must, if one is a royalty,\" he replied. \"I have even more than the\nGerman Emperor. I've one for eating in. One for thinking in. One for not\nthinking in. And a host of others. There is one which takes me eighteen\nhours to reach, where I go at cradle time, where the waves hush me to\nsleep with their lullaby--you have heard it--'Rocked in the Cradle of\nthe Deep,' eh?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" assented the Twins readily.\n\nHis glum face slightly relaxed, then he continued: \"It's always a matter\nof interest to me when my ship comes home. I don't whistle for it; I\nsquall for it. Look out for squalls, for I feel restless, and in my\nfamily carping is our form of humour.\"\n\nOnce inside the cabin of the lugger the Fish-King took an immense ruler,\nand sitting upon the table in front of a high heap of foolscap began\nruling one wave after another. Absorbed in his occupation, his mouth\ntightly drawn down, he looked more than ever like a carp. He kept on\nruling the waves, heeding neither the little coughs, the little\nfidgetings, or the little hints, entreaties, regrets, or excuses of the\nTwins, until, exasperated at his sudden and unaccountable oblivion to\ntheir existence, they murmured broken words of thanks for his past\nkindness, and, not a little indignant, they walked out of the cabin,\njumped over the side of the ship, and swam upwards. They met many a\nquaint creature, and then diving below they rested in a quiet spot again\namongst beautiful shells--at last in peaceful calmness at the bottom of\nthe sea, alone with the heaving waves palpitating far above them.\n\nTalking over the strange conduct of the Fish-King, it occurred to Cyril\nthat the fact of parting from them risked reminding him of blubber,\nwhich he hated, as he had told them before, so he must have preferred\nignoring them altogether, especially as he had work to do. But Dulcie\nthought perhaps they might see him again when he was not so busy.\n\n\"It must be rather jolly being a crowned head,\" mused Cyril; \"I vote we\nhave a shy at another catseye, so as to have a gorgeous crown and boss\neverything and everybody.\"\n\nDulcie, dazzled at such a magnificent prospect, readily agreed.\n\n\"I wish I were a crowned head!\" exclaimed Cyril excitedly.\n\n\"I wish I were a crowned head!\" repeated Dulcie with fervour.\n\n[Illustration: _They met many a quaint creature_]\n\nThey stared at one another. No change had come. Dulcie was the first to\nunderstand their failure.\n\n\"Of course not,\" she remarked. \"How stupid of us! It's a Bird, Beast, or\nFish we have to choose, not a crowned head!\"\n\nSo her brother, to change the subject, drew her attention to an eel that\nwas trying to turn head over ... wriggling in a very upside down\nfashion. Tired of watching it, they lay chest downwards, and, supporting\nthemselves on their elbows, kicked up their own heels.\n\n\"Do you believe there is such a thing as a Sea-serpent, little Sis?\"\ninquired Cyril lazily.\n\n\"I believe there are sometimes, when they are in season.\"\n\n\"Well, I can tell you there are _not_. And the only season they _are_ in\nis the Silly Season. Father says so.\"\n\n\"It's so lovely down here, and you're spoiling it all, Cyril, by\narguing. I do think it would be nice,\" she added, glancing round, \"to be\nan oyster and have a real pearl! I wished I possessed a real pearl!\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" cried Cyril. But to his annoyance he found his sister already\ngone, and a stupid-looking, closed-up oyster in her place, out of which\nhe could not get a glimmer of satisfaction.\n\n\"You _have_ shut up and no mistake!\" he said severely, \"in the middle of\na conversation too.\" However, she was soon at his side again, and looked\nvery sorry.\n\n\"Well, what was it like?\" was his laconic welcome, accompanied by a\nglance of disapproval.\n\n\"Not at all nice. I didn't want to remain--although I possessed a\nmagnificent pearl. I felt so horribly ill--as though I had some dreadful\ndisease. What a life pearl-oysters must have if they feel like that!\"\n\n\"I've heard pearls _is_ a disease.\"\n\n\"Then how horrid of you to let me have it. You ought to have told me.\"\n\n\"How could I? You were in such a hurry. I couldn't do anything. You were\njust the same over that wretched mole. I do wish you wouldn't go off\nlike that again; you know you promised you wouldn't.\"\n\n\"I forgot. But it's the Wishes that go off so quick.\"\n\n\"I say! Where was your bracelet, Dulcie, when you were an oyster?\"\n\n\"Don't know,\" she answered, pondering. \"I s'pose it must have melted. Oh\nyes, of course I remember--it had grown very small, and formed a sort of\nlittle boundary all round me inside my shell; it's here all right now. I\ncan't think--let me see, what were we talking about before I went away?\nThere was something I was going to tell you. What _were_ we talking\nabout, Cyril?\"\n\n\"Sea-serpents.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. Well, I was going to tell you, there must be Sea-serpents, 'cos\nyou remember it being in the papers and our seeing a picture of one.\"\n\n\"But that was all stuff and nonsense.\"\n\n\"No it wasn't.\"\n\n\"Well, look here, we'll soon find out, little Duffer. I wish I were a\nSea-serpent!\"\n\n\"I'm not a Duffer, after all,\" was Dulcie's first thought as Cyril\nvanished into what looked like the end of a wriggling tail--a tail so\nlong that it stretched right out of view, and she realised this must be\npart of her own brother. It was slowly moving away.\n\n\"Don't go and leave me,\" she cried appealingly, clutching hold of the\ngreat scaly thing. But it moved quicker, dragging her along. So, in her\nanxiety she clambered on top of it, sat down, and found to her surprise\nthat its undulating movement of progress formed a regular switchback,\nand that she was travelling along its back towards its head in a most\npleasant and delightful manner.\n\n\"What a funny thing to happen!\" And she laughed. \"But whatever will\noccur when I get to the end! And what yards and yards of him there seem\nto be!\"\n\nAll this she wondered and heaps more, till at last she saw the\ncreature's huge neck looming high up in front of her; when she got there\nit stopped her progress. It turned its head round--which resembled that\nof a giraffe--and its mild eyes looked kindly at her; and what was most\ncomic, yet comforting, it wore a nose-ring of gold set with catseyes.\n\n[Illustration: _What a glorious ride that was!_]\n\nShe patted its neck affectionately; and then with a mighty glide of long\nduration the huge creature took her up, up, until, with her still on its\nback, gracefully reclining against its neck, the Sea-serpent arose with\nher above the surface of the Ocean.\n\nCertainly, no one now would have taken them for twins.\n\nWhat a glorious ride that was! Nothing around but the wild surging\nspray, the wind blowing in her face, brightening her cheeks, and tossing\nher fair hair about. Above, the clouds, dark and heavy, tore\nalong--everywhere movement, reckless, turbulent movement.\n\nWhat a wild ride it was!\n\nFar, far in the distance appeared a dark speck. As it came nearer it\nturned out to be a ship with broken mast, broken by the waves which\nleaped over its deck again and again. People were on it, for shouts came\nfrom it borne along on the wind.\n\nA fearful squall arose as from the very bosom of the Ocean. Lightning\nplayed around the doomed ship. Half blinded by it, and bewildered by the\ndeafening noise of thunder, Dulcie just caught a glimpse of the\nFish-King in the water near, before burying her face in her hands to\nescape the blinding glare of the second flash. Starting suddenly at the\nterrifying clap of thunder that followed, she lost her balance and fell\noff the Sea-serpent's back headlong into the surging waters. For some\ntime she was tossed about, sometimes swimming, sometimes floating,\nenjoying the excitement of the thing, knowing she couldn't drown, and\nexpecting every moment to see something of her huge brother, when all of\na sudden she found herself right in the middle of a shoal of fish.\n\nShe was startled to find, too, that like them, she had been caught in a\nlarge net from which, swim and search as she would, she could find no\nmeans of escape. Restlessly with her fellow-captives she turned this way\nand that in vain hope of freedom. She knew she must be adding to the\nsalt water around, for she felt so miserably helpless and lonely, and a\nheavy sob now and again escaped her. Here indeed was a lack of freedom\nand no mistake, for the poor fish as well as for herself! Never, never\nagain, she said to herself, would she beg for fish for tea if this was\nwhat they had to endure. Round and round inside the net she swam,\nbackwards, forwards, upwards, downwards--no outlet was there. If only\nshe could find the way she got in! The thread was so hard and strong,\ntoo, that she could do nothing, tear at it with her little hands as she\nwould. She had nothing sharp about her either, not even a pin.\n\nThe sea became calmer by degrees, but Dulcie's anxiety grew, and her\nimpatience with it, till the sound of men's voices from above raised\nher excitement to fever pitch.\n\n\"Oh dear, oh dear! It must be the fisher people!\" And the thought that\nthe little swimming creatures darting about in terrified jerks would\nsoon be motionless for ever, helped to increase her distress.\n\n\"Hold hard, Bill. Ain't it heavy!\" said a gruff voice.\n\n\"My missus won't be sorry,\" answered his mate.\n\nThe net was actually being hauled up, and Dulcie, beating against it\nwith her arms and struggling hard, was being hauled up with it.\n\nHer sleeve had got rucked up--the catseyes glistened.\n\n\"I wish--oh what? I can't think--to be something very small indeed--oh\nquick!\"\n\nNo change occurred. She could now see the boat and the men's stooping\nfigures.\n\n\"Oh please, I want to change--I want to be one of--no, I forgot, they\ncan't get out either--I wish I were a--a----\"\n\n\"Holy St. Patrick!\"\n\n\"Bless me, what's that?\" exclaimed both men, glancing down at her.\n\n\"--A periwinkle!\" gasped Dulcie faintly.\n\nThe next second the little girl disappeared from their view and the\nfishermen rubbed their eyes and stared at one another with their mouths\nopen. The big fishes and little were quick to seize that golden\nopportunity of their captors' careless handling of the net--and escaped,\ndown to every jack sprat of them. And with the gentle murmur of the sea\nthere mingled noisy and ugly words of baffled hope and disappointment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE MYSTERY OF THE CRAB\n\n\nAt the base of that Cliff where the wild flowers grew, the golden sands\nwere still bathed in hot sunshine, and roughly caressed by the incoming\nwaves. Upon the crest of one of these a Periwinkle was borne, and\ntossed, and flung, until it was landed high and wet on a soft bed of\nseaweed. But not for long--for very soon a little girl arose from that\nbed of seaweed, smoothed back her clinging hair, and cried out with joy\nas she recognised her surroundings. It was Dulcie, glad to be herself\nonce more, and on the same beautiful sands again; and her first thought\nwas of course for Cyril.\n\nShe was dripping wet. To wipe her face she took out her handkerchief,\nwhich of course was wet also. In order to dry it she tied it to a piece\nof stick; thus it could serve as a flag, too, which she could wave to\nattract Cyril if he were about that coast, and show him where she was.\n\nRemembering that, according to some wiseheads, sea water kindly gives no\nchills, she had no fear for herself; so she lay down upon a patch of\nnice warm pebbles, of which she took a handful, and began idly throwing\nthem one by one into the tide, which was running up to her feet faster\nthan it retreated at the ebbing of the waves.\n\nShe was beginning to tire of this pastime when--plash! the last stone\nshe threw fell plump into a sandy pool, out of which there hurried an\nenormous Crab. Dulcie was frightened, for the ugly creature had espied\nhis disturber and was coming towards her at a quick amble, sideways. She\nturned and fled towards the Cliff, and a turn of the head showed her\nthat her dreadful pursuer was not far behind. Up the arduous steps she\nclimbed, stumbling every now and again in her hurry and\nexcitement--those steps down which she had tripped so gaily with her\nbrother. Again she turned to look behind her, this time with a feeling\nthat here she must be safe.\n\nBut the great Crab was coming up the steps too. Flushed and gasping, she\narrived at last on top of the Cliff amongst the wild flowers once more.\n\nThere, too, over the top appeared the terrifying creature. It was\nseemingly quite fresh, and was gaining rapidly upon her, for now she was\nquite tired out.\n\nShe could run no more. So poor Dulcie turned, and facing her pursuer,\nshe cried--\n\n\"Oh, please, please go away--oh _do, please_!\"\n\nBut the ugly Crab never lessened its pace one bit; it came nearer and\nnearer--so close that she could notice how it was shaking all over; and\nhow repulsive--till--till she saw that it was wearing something\nglittering around its body--a band of gold with one last catseye and the\nothers all gone. It _must_ be Cyril. Why didn't he change? Dulcie\ncouldn't imagine. The creature stopped motionless, and tears were\ndropping from its ugly eyes.\n\n\"What can be wrong?\" cried Dulcie with a sob of horror and fear. But she\nconquered her fear now that she was persuaded it was Cyril, and she\napproached still closer. She stroked it--actually stroked it--and\nalthough it was just a great horrid Crab the expression it wore was\nheart-rending.\n\n\"It's the Wizard's trick!\" she exclaimed suddenly. \"Poor Cyril's last\ncatseye won't work!\" She never thought how many _she_ still had, for she\nwas weeping bitterly over her brother in this dreadful guise, and she\ncould hardly wonder what the end would be, if this indeed were not the\nhorrible end of all.\n\n\"Oh, Cyril,\" she sobbed, addressing it. \"Oh, Cyril, how dreadfully\nchanged you are! Whoever heard of having a crab for one's brother If\nonly we had remained Twins all this never could have happened!\" And she\nwalked round and round it, wringing her hands in despair. But evidently\nthe poor quaking thing was powerless to give a shred of comfort, and its\nwhole appearance was helpless and hopeless in the extreme.\n\n\"It's no use stopping here like this,\" she decided at last; \"we'd better\ngo on,\" and not quite thinking what she was doing, she whistled to it,\nas she whistled to Towzer, and they moved slowly forward--Dulcie,\nred-eyed and dejected, and the Crab following her at a side-way amble.\n\nThe strange pair had not proceeded far when Dulcie musingly muttered--\n\n\"I wish I were a crab too, then of course I should know all that has\nhappened!\"\n\nStrange to relate, she didn't turn into a crab, but remained a little\ngirl as usual. She might have sought the reason of this had not a sight\narrested her attention which caused her to run forward with a cry of\njoy. It was the sudden appearance of the Bird-Fairy, in whose\noutstretched hand there glistened a jewel--a catseye; but how different\nwas its gleam to the one the poor Crab wore. \"Take it,\" she said\nhurriedly in her pretty soft voice--\"and listen: I have wrested it from\nthe Wizard, whose magnetic power succeeded in recovering one unused,\nthough he had tried for several.\"\n\n[Illustration: _She stroked it--actually stroked it_]\n\n\"Why did he do it?\" interrupted Dulcie innocently.\n\n\"Because he wanted to confuse me, and also to add one more to his\ndreadful Zoological Collection. Now replace the stone quickly and give\nme the sham one--for it belongs to the red-haired young lady, and is\nstolen property.\"\n\nThe child busily and anxiously obeyed her directions.\n\n\"Stolen property?\" repeated Dulcie in surprise.\n\nBut the Bird-Fairy had flown away and disappeared. The Crab had\ndisappeared too. Cyril stood before her, white and trembling, and the\nnext second his little sister was safe and snug in his arms.\n\nFor some time the Twins sat silent, huddled close together on the\nvariegated carpet of clover, and cowslips, and poppies, and bluebells.\n\n\"That _was_ awful!\" exclaimed Dulcie at last. Cyril shivered.\n\n\"You saw the Bird-Fairy; did you hear what she said?\"\n\n\"Yes, I understood what she said--I s'pose I understood 'cos she's a\nFairy.\"\n\n\"Well, what do you think of it, Cyril?\"\n\n\"I dunno; floors me completely. All I know is that I shouldn't like to\ngo through that scare again.\"\n\n\"It was very kind of her, wasn't it?\"\n\nThe boy nodded thoughtfully and answered--\n\n\"Yes, and I wonder why she did it!\"\n\nNow Dulcie thought of it, he looked quite dry. She felt his knees,\naccording to her custom, after his being out in the rain--he certainly\nwas quite dry. She said how surprised she was that he should be so.\n\n\"How did you manage it after being in the pool?\" she asked.\n\n\"It must be running in the sun,\" he explained.\n\nIt had done the same for her, and her serge frock was none the worse for\nthe sea water. By degrees they cheered up. They were so happy to be\ntogether again on that lovely Cliff, with the sea beyond sparkling so\ncheerfully in the bright light as though it wanted to share in their\nrenewed gaiety.\n\n\"Cyril,\" said Dulcie, \"I'm longing to hear what happened to you when we\nwere parted so suddenly in the Ocean during that awful storm.\"\n\n\"All right,\" replied Cyril promptly. \"When I looked round and found you\nwere not on my serpentine back, I didn't know where I was when you went\noverboard, and therefore didn't know a bit where to search for you. I\nchanged into a crab so as to move about in a small space and more easily\nfor the purpose. I dodged the nets which were about--I had learned the\nlesson we saw given during those sports----\"\n\n\"I wish I had paid more attention,\" sighed Dulcie.\n\n\"And was washed ashore,\" continued her brother, not heeding the\ninterruption, \"right into that pool where stones came whizzing around;\nit was rather beastly. I'm getting used to have stones shied at me, but\nthat last one was the best aimed, and caught me a good crack on the back\nof my shell and nearly startled me out of it; it quite startled me out\nof the water. At the same moment I caught a glimpse of your handkerchief\nwith the blue border, and of you racing off full pelt. I wished to\nchange to myself--nothing happened. I couldn't make it out. I wished\ntill I was red all over. Still nothing--nothing. Then I had an awful\nfeeling that it was hopeless and I was in the Wizard's power.\"\n\n\"Poor Cyril!\"\n\n\"Then I tore after you, shaking with fright as much as you were. I\nthought you were too frightened to look at me; and that you'd never do\nso and never recognise me.\"\n\n\"But I did!\"\n\n\"And you saved me, dear little Sis!\" Cyril had grown quite pink in the\nface, and was trying to keep back unmanly tears.\n\n\"Did you, too, see the Fish-King during the storm?\" she interrupted, to\nchange the subject.\n\n\"Yes. But he didn't get that ship he was after, for I stuck my huge self\nbetween him and it, and switchbacked myself when he clung to me, like\none of those bucking horses, so he had no chance.\"\n\n\"Did he recognise you, do you think?\"\n\n\"How could he? I didn't look much like the Philosopher he knew.\"\n\n\"How about that ship?\"\n\n\"I was glad to see it right itself and drift away; the cries stopped,\nand the passengers pointed in my direction so excitedly.\"\n\n\"Perhaps they were grateful,\" suggested his sister.\n\n\"Or perhaps they thought it was I who had caused them to toss.\"\n\n\"But our host--it was scarcely fair to him.\"\n\n\"He didn't seem to mind. He simply dived down and disappeared.\"\n\n\"Now, those people,\" said Dulcie, \"if you saw them, they must have seen\nyou, and therefore\"--with a wise look--\"therefore they are sure to put\nyou in the newspapers.\"\n\n\"What a lark!\"\n\n\"And people who read about it are sure not to believe there was seen a\nreal live Sea-serpent, and wearing a nose-ring, too! And then I s'pose\nthey'll all be duffers, eh, Cyril? And it'll be called the Silly\nSeason!\"\n\nDulcie laughed, and Cyril laughed too, but something out at sea just\nthen caught his eye. He jumped up excitedly and began waving his arms\nabout frantically.\n\n\"Look! look!\" he shouted.\n\nDulcie, kneeling by his side and shading her eyes with her hand, saw\nthat old clump of rocks again, and upon them stood his Majesty the\nFish-King waving his crown at them. The tide rose higher and higher. He\nmade three low bows in their direction--Dulcie fluttered her\nhandkerchief and curtsied, Cyril bowed his best--the Fish-King made a\nfinal gesture of farewell, the Twins kissed their hands; his Majesty put\nhis crown firmly on his head with a smack, and disappeared with the\nrocks beneath the surging spray. And they felt they would never see him\nmore.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE MAGIC BRACELETS\n\n\n\"How nice it is to be one's very own self again!\" observed Dulcie\ncontentedly. \"I don't think I told you, Cyril, that a star-fish stared\nso rudely at me and said something about 'a Winking, Blinking, silly\nPeriwinkle,' which upset me very much at the time, but now it does seem\nabsurd,\" and she laughed. Then she told of her escape from the net, and\nCyril got very excited at her imprisonment within it, remarking it was a\njolly good thing _her_ last catseye had proved all right or she would\nhave remained a Periwinkle for ever.\n\n\"Oh, Cyril!\" she exclaimed, catching her breath, \"I never thought of\nthat--was it my last? That idea never came to me in the net; I never\nthought at the time to see how many were left. Why! Wherever is my\nbracelet!\"\n\n\"I say! Where's mine?\" cried Cyril.\n\nTHE MAGIC BRACELETS WERE GONE.\n\nThe children looked at one another, aghast.\n\n\"I remember now,\" she exclaimed in awe-struck tones, \"wishing to be a\ncrab so as to keep you company, and know the mystery, and I was too\nmiserable to think about the real Wishes--and never noticed or thought\nabout not having changed--and oh! if _I_ had happened to have one\ncatseye only, _I_ should have changed into a horrid crab and remained\none for really ever and ever!\"\n\n\"Oh, bother. What's the good of going on like that, Sis?\" said her\nbrother impatiently, for her voice verged very near a whimper. \"Much\nbetter smile and thank your stars you're only a girl. Now what shall we\ndo? You suggest something, Dulcie.\"\n\n\"Go home,\" was her prompt reply, wistfully and not without anxiety.\n\n\"Yes, but it's all very well to say 'Go home'; the only way back must be\nthe way we came, and you know what that means; even if we can find it.\"\n\nFrom Dulcie's looks she evidently didn't relish the prospect. The very\nidea of the Wizard made her tremble.\n\n\"I must say,\" continued her brother, \"I don't know how we're going to\nmanage it. We can't, so _he_ said, cross the Brook--and you could see he\nmeant it. So it's impossible, unless we roam about till we grow older,\nand then we shouldn't know the exact date when we leave off being\nchildren under ten.\"\n\n\"We shouldn't know the date at all,\" said Dulcie disconsolately; \"we\ndon't even know what time it is now.\"\n\n\"It feels like tea-time,\" remarked Cyril.\n\n\"Oh no, the sun's too hot for that.\"\n\n\"Let's go through our changes and see if we can make it all out,\" said\nCyril; \"that's the first thing to do.\"\n\nThey went carefully through their various experiences from the\nbeginning.\n\n\"I counted there were ten in each bracelet, so we ought each to have\nfive catseyes left, instead of none and no bracelets at all!\" he\nconcluded miserably. And they were both full of trouble. But soon,\nDulcie exclaimed--\n\n\"Why, we _are_ Billies! We must count five more for getting back each\ntime into our own shapes.\"\n\nOf course, there had been the mistake, and the fact being brought to\nlight proved a great relief.\n\n\"Still,\" said Cyril, \"we ought to have been more careful, and saved two\nfor the end; then we could have crossed the Brook as animals or\nsomething and taken our own shapes again on the other side, as we'd made\nup our minds to do.\"\n\n\"Ah, but perhaps we shouldn't have had the power on the other side,\"\nremarked his sister.\n\nThat was a new view of the case. The children were perplexed.\n\n\"Anyway, we're in a nice fix,\" replied Cyril.\n\nThen they decided it was no use stopping there, especially as Cyril\nsaid he wanted his tea badly--so the only thing was to find their way\nback, and try and dodge the Wizard if they could. They wandered off, not\nparticularly hopeful, and very nervous. Cyril thought he should know the\nway once they found the Bird-Fairy's glade. Dulcie took his arm, and\nthey walked on in silence, which she broke at last.\n\n\"I wish some one would come and take care of us!\"\n\n\"I wish some one would bring me my tea!\" said her brother.\n\n\"I wish some one would come and tell us what to do!\" sighed Dulcie, who\nhad begun to find out that it was of no use relying absolutely on Cyril\nany more. \"If only we were at home!\"\n\n\"I'll try to take you there, so cheer up, do,\" answered the boy\nsturdily.\n\nThe sea breezes were gone. The Twins had reached the Jungle. To give\nthemselves courage he whistled \"Rule Britannia\" and she hummed it, but\nheld his arm very tight, and every now and then looked furtively around.\nThere was no sight or sound of anything living. Nevertheless, they\nhurried on, until they broke into a smart run, and ran, and ran.... They\nhalted abruptly. Cyril hadn't the slightest idea whereabouts they were,\nor which direction to take. It was no use asking Dulcie if she\nremembered; she only shook her head disconsolately. When they fled from\nthe Jungle before, they had been far too scared to notice anything at\nall in the way of landmarks.\n\n\"We've got to get out of this and reach the Town,\" observed the boy\nthoughtfully; \"and then we've got to get to the back of the cave.\"\n\n\"But, Cyril, you've forgotten that after the Town comes the Wood, and\nthen that horrid place.\"\n\n\"So I have. Well, it's quite impossible, that's all--out and out\nimpossible.\" His face was growing very red.\n\n\"Don't you remember, Cyril, my saying how gloomy this place looked when\nwe entered it the first time? Well, it looks gloomy enough here for\nanything, so it may turn out all right, and after all, we may be near to\nwhere we entered. Come along--it really does seem brighter over there.\nThe Town may be quite close.\"\n\nIt certainly was brighter beyond. But no streets were there. Instead, to\ntheir bewilderment, the little travellers found themselves already in\nthe daisy glade once more. They were positively in the beautiful Wood\nagain. The first object that caught their eye was something white. It\nwas Cyril's lost handkerchief which Dulcie picked up--it was a brand new\none--and tucked it in his pocket at once.\n\n\"I say, isn't it curious how I've brought you back so easily?\" remarked\nher brother.\n\n\"It must be some short cut you found--by accident,\" replied his sister\ndecisively. And that settled that. In the absolute silence which had\nreigned around, a peculiar rustling now attracted their attention.\nDulcie hung back, and Cyril held her hand as he advanced cautiously.\nThey came to a sudden standstill as, from a clump of trees, a tall\nfigure in a yellow satin gown emerged and confronted them.\n\n\"Pray walk in!\" said the Wizard, and taking the boy and girl by a hand\nhe led them--not through the Wood and along the country road--but\nsomehow straight through the back entrance into his Cave Dwelling.\n\n\"I'm so pleased to see you again,\" remarked their host, smiling as he\ntook off his spectacles and scratched his nose with them. \"I see you've\nnot found freedom yet! Ha, ha! Pray make yourselves quite at home.\"\n\nOut of his satchel he drew forth the two bracelets in which were no\ncatseyes.\n\n\"Used them quite all, I see!\" he remarked blandly. \"These others, poor\nthings, thought they could change back the other side of my domain!\" And\nthe Wizard laughed most unpleasantly loud--just like his knocker.\n\n\"Please, sir,\" ventured Dulcie coaxingly after his hilarity was\nover--\"please, sir, do let us go home.\"\n\n\"But your brother--I'm sure he wouldn't be satisfied.\"\n\n\"Indeed I would,\" said Cyril.\n\n\"Tush! Nonsense!\" exclaimed the Wizard. \"_I_ never say 'Don't' here--so\nyou are going to live with me and be oh so happy and free! free to do\neverything I tell you. You would have been more useful as a Crab. But\nnow you shall _both_ tend my little Zoological Collection--they are not\nalways so still, oh no! You shall help me do my tricks. You shall help\nme ruin that fishy old King; and help me keep that Bird-Fairy in order\ntill she shall rue the day that she ever tried to----\"\n\nThe Twins heard no more. Locked in one another's arms they had suddenly\nsunk down in placid slumber. The astonished Wizard stopped in his flow\nof eloquence. He walked round and round them. His face grew blacker and\nblacker, whilst the Twins slept calmly on, Dulcie's head resting\npeacefully on Cyril's shoulder.\n\n\"Well I'm blessed!\" muttered the Wizard, \"or should be if I weren't\nso....\"\n\n[Illustration: _Taking the boy and girl by a hand, he led them_]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE SPELL--AND HOW IT WORKED\n\n\nThe poor children felt as though they had come under some gentle\ninfluence, and curiously enough, though outwardly asleep, they were\nconscious of the Wizard walking around them, pushing and pinching them,\nwhich somehow they never felt; and they were conscious, too, that he was\ntroubled about something. What it was they couldn't imagine. He began to\nmutter threats coupled with the name of the Bird-Fairy.\n\nThe Wizard was clearly not at all happy. Indeed, he was profoundly\nconcerned--for every time he touched the children to wake them, a\nsensation of cold spread over his hands which became rapidly more and\nmore acute until it felt like touching fire, and he shrank back\nmuttering and grumbling.\n\nAt that moment there was a great rush of air. The Bird-Fairy appeared,\nand with outspread wings she stood over the resting children, and, full\nof pity, she gazed down at them. Then they knew they were in her care,\nand they knew, too, that _they knew something which might prove useful\nand precious_. And they smiled happily as they lay there.\n\n\"What do you want here?\" demanded the Wizard harshly. \"How dare you come\nhere and try to thwart me?\"\n\n\"I have come to pray you to turn from your evil ways. Let these poor\nchildren go,\" begged the Bird-Fairy in tones sweet and pleading. \"They\nhave realised how much their happy home means to them and the safety\nthere is in being taken care of. Let them go back to it.\"\n\n\"Tush! Nonsense! What's all that to me? Begone while I let you! I'm in\nno mood to be trifled with.\"\n\n\"Show kindness and mercy for once,\" was her reply.\n\n\"What? Go! You remain to mock me? Remember my little Zoological\nCollection. Which of us triumphed throughout?\"\n\n\"Don't boast of that.\"\n\n\"But there is much to boast about. And my experiments have not stood\nstill since that remote period. Science has progressed!\"\n\n\"You will not be merciful?\"\n\nA scornful laugh was all the reply he vouchsafed.\n\n\"Then know,\" she continued solemnly, \"that our Fairy Enchantments have\nalso strengthened with time.\"\n\n\"Is it to be another tussle between us?\" inquired the Wizard, smiling.\n\n\"It is. And I pray it may be for the last time. I have failed before.\nBut this time I am going to succeed. With the girl my difficulty was not\nso great, but the boy has been hard to convince that other creatures\nhave troubles greater than his. Others have returned to you through your\ncraft, but this little couple you were forced to go and meet. You sought\nto entrap the boy as a Crab--it was I who restored the gem and saved\nhim, as you may have guessed. And with that success the Bird-Fairy's\nhour now has come! You have failed to snare them as Bird, Beast, or\nFish--your science can change mortals to nothing else. And now you shall\nfail to turn them to slaves.\"\n\nAgain the Wizard's discordant laughter was heard, and he said--\n\n\"You certainly got hold of that gem, my dear--and you evidently consider\nyourself in consequence an apt pupil of that old Fairy who befriended\nyou--worse luck to her! had she but passed a moment later there would\nhave been no time to frustrate me. My science would have been powerful\nenough to change you into a mere Bird. My Collection would have been the\nmore valuable, and she could not have made you into a Fairy besides; nor\nwould you have known enchanting arts with power to torment me; nor would\nyou have had any hope of future freedom.\"\n\nThe Wizard paused a moment, then rasped out--\n\n\"Were it not for your own salvation perhaps you wouldn't be so ready to\nhelp the children, and to dare attempt to triumph over me. But we shall\nsee what progress we have both made!\"\n\n\"We shall see!\" she repeated. \"Touch these dear children if you can. You\nfind it difficult? You do not understand it, eh?\"\n\nThe Wizard, with a groan of pain, had leapt back after another attempt.\n\n\"I soon shall understand it,\" he cried angrily, taking up a bottle\ncontaining a green fluid, a few drops of which he poured into his\npalms, then smiled. \"This will wake them quickly enough, and probably\nnever let them sleep again.\"\n\nBut the only result was a louder cry of pain from him and a peaceful\nsnore from them.\n\nThe Bird-Fairy looked steadily at him, and the Wizard trembled with\nanger and fear. Recovering himself he muttered: \"You've got them well\nunder your wing. So it must be with you I have to deal first. Ah, ha!\nI'll show you how Science can outdo your paltry old-fashioned arts!\"\n\nThereupon he took a curious box-shaped mechanism, pointed it at the\nBird-Fairy, pressed a spring, and instantly the pretty trio became\nenveloped in a halo of rainbow. The next moment the wings of the\nBird-Fairy drooped, and the children awoke. Her Spell was broken!\n\nHe moved his terrible invention slightly, so that she alone was\nencircled by the rainbow ray. She stood there motionless like a\nbeautiful statue; and the Bird-Fairy was in the Wizard's power!\n\n[Illustration: _The wizard, with a groan of pain, had leapt back_]\n\nA few moments more and his triumph would be supreme and everlasting. She\nwould exist no more. His evil heart thumped with excitement and glee.\n\nA continuous and regular movement around the cave, and an underground\nheaving and low, distant rumbling arrested the Wizard's attention. He\ngasped and started, and the instrument he held fell from his grasp and\nshivered to atoms.\n\nThe Twins were the cause. It was they who had started the commotion.\nUnobserved by the Wizard in his moment of exultation, freed by him from\nthe Bird-Fairy's Spell, they were free to follow the irresistible\ninclination they felt when they were under it. So they gently stroked\neach of the animals around, and were charmed to find that as they did so\neach poor creature changed to girl or boy and vanished from its prison,\nwhilst the ground trembled and the rumbling became louder and louder, as\nthough some unseen power was helping in the rescue. So quickly did they\nrun round on their task that at the moment when the Wizard realised his\nmishap, just as he thought he had triumphed, Dulcie and Cyril had done\ntheir work. They started as they saw the Wizard lying full length on the\nground next to his shattered invention, the rays of which were let loose\nand playing like lightning all round him.\n\nThen they remained rooted to the spot with amazement, for just beyond\nwas the Bird-Fairy, who before their astonished gaze became suddenly\nbereft of her wings and covering of feathers, and now stood before them\nas a lovely Princess, in draperies of silver tissue, and with a golden\ncirclet upon her dark hair. A happy smile was on her face, as with a\nfarewell gesture she motioned the children away.\n\n[Illustration: _Lying full length on the ground next to his shattered\ninvention_]\n\nThere was a terrific noise as of a thunder-clap. They looked back.\nNothing but a dark cloud was there!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Come quick!\" cried Dulcie, taking Cyril's hand and running off with\nhim; \"there's no shelter here. Let's get in before the rain.\"\n\nAnd away they sped from the rocks on which they had so often played,\nreached home, ran indoors, and got upstairs just before the big drops\nturned into a heavy downpour and came pattering against the nursery\nwindow-pane.\n\n\"Are you children ready?\" called up their mother in her kind, cheery\nvoice. \"Come down and have tea with me for a treat.\"\n\nIt was a welcome invitation. They were quick to shout their thanks and\nto make themselves tidy. When they entered the parlour, where the sun\nwas peeping in again after his absence, their mother said quietly--\n\n\"I'm glad you've escaped the storm.\"\n\nLater on, they all three sat in the gathering twilight at the large\nbow-window watching Nature going to sleep. The two children sat up very\nlate that night--and they told their mother such an extraordinary story\nthat she wondered how ever it could have got into their heads; and\nwondered where they could have read it. But they knew they hadn't read\nit.\n\n\"Look at the bump on Cyril's forehead!\" exclaimed Dulcie, as conclusive\nevidence of the fight. But their mother only shook her head. Cyril often\nwore such marks of battle.\n\n\"And, little Mother, we _are_ so glad to be at home.\" She laughed. But\nthey meant it.\n\n\n\n\nTHE OLD-FANGLED FATHER AND HIS NEW-FANGLED SONS\n\n\nCenturies ago, an old father--as old as one of them--lay on his couch\nfeeling that his end was near. He was not surprised; in fact, he had\nforeseen it as he had foreseen many other events. And he was reputed\nwise beyond his years, and therefore far beyond those of the people who\nreputed it.\n\nSo he called softly to him his three sons. They didn't hear him, being\nbusy in different parts of the house; and it never occurred to him to\nring the bell, because he was so old-fangled. He shouted to them, and\nthey came.\n\n\"I have three things to say to you,\" remarked the father solemnly.\n\nThe sons fidgeted visibly; they had been studying, were not at home to\nany one, and particularly had not wished to be disturbed in their work.\nThey thought that their father was going to begin another anecdote, and\nit put them out of humour; but they were startled when he said--\n\n\"My sons, my end is near.\"\n\nEach one replied with an endearing term--just one, for they were not men\nof many words. And they told him \"it was only his fuss.\" That he was\n\"only a hundred, and didn't look as if he were going to be cut off\nprematurely.\" \"That he mustn't give in and should never say 'die.'\"\n\n\"I cannot argue the point,\" replied the old man. \"Let me tell you my\nlast wishes as briefly as I can, for my time is short.\"\n\nThey tried to dissuade him from talking so much, but it was of no avail,\nfor he protested that it was their duty to listen to him, and he\ninsisted upon having last wishes as he had read that others had had\nbefore him, and it would be for the sons to obey and unravel them as\nbest they could.\n\nThen the father, addressing the eldest, who was ambitious and already\npast middle age, spoke as follows:--\n\n\"My son, my first-born, find out the furthermost summit of the world,\nand when you have surmounted that, you can surmount anything.\"\n\nTo his second son, who was avaricious and also getting old and rather\nbald, he said:--\n\n\"Sit patiently, and wait, and when you can hear a voice that comes from\nno living throat, and can see its traces, you will want for nothing.\"\n\nTo the third son, and consequently his favourite, who was romantic,\nbeing better looking and naturally younger than his elder brothers, the\nfather spoke thus:--\n\n\"You, my son, who are the pride of my heart, the joy of my life, the\nlight of mine eyes, search the atmosphere till at your bidding it\nshowers down burning stars; then shall you go to the beautiful Princess\nwho awaits you, and live without labour.\"\n\nAnd the three brothers murmured under their breath:--\n\n\"Poor old dad! He's certainly very unwell.\"\n\nBut he had not yet finished.\n\n\"Try to realise your ambition, my sons,\" he continued. \"I have shown you\nthe ways you should go. Then, and only then, will you have earned that\npriceless jewel--Contentment.\"\n\nThe old man then composed himself comfortably, and died a few years\nlater, after a sharp attack of senile decay, leaving many regrets and\nunsettled accounts behind him.\n\nWhen that happened the three sons were very sad all day and all night.\nThe very next morning they called to mind his last wishes of a few years\nago, and decided to ponder over them, give them the benefit of their\ndoubt, and see if anything could be made out of them. And they stuck\nmanfully to their resolution, especially as the creditors were hourly\nexpected.\n\nThe eldest son looked up all the maps and geography books he could get\nhold of, and studied them until he came to the uncomfortable conclusion\nthat he would certainly risk death by sea and cannibals many times\nbefore he could hope to reach the furthermost summit of the globe.\n\nThe second son sat and waited for the voice he was both to hear and\ntrace, until at night he gave up in despair. So he decided that the only\nvoice worth listening to was that of common-sense.\n\nThe favourite son, meanwhile, went for a long walk, bent on success,\nand, unlike the others, full of a new hope. Yet, search as he would, he\ncould find no spot where the atmosphere changed into stars at his\nbidding, and he returned home long after dinner-time disconsolate to his\nsupper of soup which had grown cold.\n\nThe next morning the three brothers arose in disappointment and vexation\nof mind. They murmured loud and long at having been sent on fairy-tale\nerrands in a world where no clever talking animals really existed, or\nkind-hearted inanimate objects volunteered to befriend them on\nimpossible quests.\n\nAs the first-born explained:--\n\n\"If I were to coax my parrot and ask him to help me in return for my\nmany years of kindness, as they do successfully in fairy stories, he\nwould bite me for my pains, as he always does whenever I feed him.\"\n\nAnd the second-born said:--\n\n\"If I were to fondle a pin and said, 'Ah, pin! canst thou help me in my\ndistress?' ten to one I would get pricked, and serve me right for being\nso imbecile.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" exclaimed the romantic one, \"were a gentle wolf to find me\nmooning about the forest thinking of my beauteous Princess, surely would\nhe stop and, with a keen sense of the fitness of things, he would not\ntrifle with politeness, but he would eat of me as much as would satisfy\nhis present need--perhaps even more than he could digest.\"\n\nAnd the brothers laughed aloud in the splenetic bitterness of their\nthree souls.\n\nAnother year went by. The sons had paid their father's debts and made\nsome on their own account; so they held a council, and they confessed\nthat they had idled so long because they were haunted by the rosy\npromise their father's words held out, and, do what they would, they\ncould neither forget them nor yet find any solution.\n\nThen together they pondered and thought, until one fine day (all the\nrest about that time had been wet) they concluded that as they were not\nbelievers in fairy tales, science perhaps might help them.\n\nSo they worked and worked and worked, each with his own object. They\ncertainly did not lack brains, or test-tubes, or electric wire, yet just\nas certainly did they lack money; and, but for the occasional doing of\nmenial work, they would have starved and starved and gone hungry.\n\nAt last the eldest son solved his mystery. Now could he surmount the\nfurthest summit of the world, for he had invented a machine which could\ncarry him soaring like a bird over mountains and over seas.\n\nAnd the second son solved _his_ mystery. Now he could hear a voice that\ncame from no living throat and yet could see its traces, for he had\ninvented an automaton that could speak and could record its words with a\nstylus upon tablets of wax.\n\nAnd the third son solved _his_ mystery. He had searched the atmosphere,\nand now at his bidding burning stars were showered down, for he had\ninvented a kite fashioned on a wonderful wire, which went through the\nair and drew forth electric sparks. And his heart burned with love for\nthe beautiful Princess whom he knew awaited him, though by this time she\nmust be getting on.\n\nThe excitement of the brothers was great. \"It is our genius we can\nthank!\" they exclaimed all in three breaths. \"Our father, steeped in his\nold-fangled lore, never could have foreseen our triumphs. He never could\nhave guessed how we should solve his posers.\" That was their conclusion.\nThen they shook hands all round, congratulated one another, and went\ntheir different ways.\n\nThe eldest flew off, mounted upon his wonderful air-steed, amid the\ngaping of the astonished villagers, and his two brothers looked after\nhim wistfully until he disappeared far away behind the clouds. The hopes\nof the traveller rose ever higher and higher as for weeks and months he\nsoared on, exhilarated beyond all imagination. At last he came to the\nfurthermost summit of which his dear father had spoken so solemnly. Over\nit sailed the son as easily as a bird. When crack! the machine broke and\ncollapsed, and the unfortunate inventor was hurled headlong into the\nsea, and every moment threatened to be his last, but wasn't. As he\nfloundered in the water he looked annoyed, and he murmured to himself:--\n\n\"There must be some mistake. Who can truly say that I have found\nContentment here?\"\n\nMeanwhile the second son had borrowed a camel and gone off with his\nprecious automaton to the great city, there to reap the reward of his\nlabours. All the way he reckoned how he could best enjoy the vast sums\nof gold which would be poured into his lap. And he came to the\nconclusion that to gaze at it would give more pleasure than to spend any\nof it, except just a little for coffers to keep it in. He laughed aloud\nin anticipation. Arrived at his journey's end, he unpacked his treasure\nand set it working, and was forthwith lodged in prison--for the city\nturned out to be as narrow-minded as it was great, and it assured him\nthat he must be a wizard. He assured it he wasn't, and proved that he\ndidn't believe in fairy tales, for he had not relied upon them for help.\nBut it was of no avail; there was nothing more to be said. This\ndisappointing ending to so much effort and such real success encouraged\nhim in the conviction that in the position in which he found himself he\ncould find no legitimate ground for Contentment.\n\nDuring this time the favourite son had sallied forth singing in search\nof the beauteous Princess. His marvellous kite was slung behind him. He\nwended his steps toward the only Court he knew of, where dwelt a\nPrincess good, beautiful, and unmarried--a combination of charms of\nmarked rarity. So joyous and merry was he, that the squirrels squeaked\nand scurried away at sight of him, and the very hyenas laughed in\nharmony as he passed by singing, \"Tra-la-la!\" in his blithe\nlightsomeness. Ah, how gladsome and thrice happy was that merry, merry\nmorn!\n\nNow the Princess sat in the vast hall of the palace turning up her nose\nat the stream of suitors that promenaded in front of her, very bored and\nweary at the continuous routine. But she never seemed to tire of it in\nher certainty that \"the right one\" would put in his appearance at the\nright moment.\n\nShe was a very spoilt lady indeed; there was no one to gainsay her.\nIndeed, so spoilt was she, that every night she would cry for the stars,\nand blame the skies for being selfish and not sparing her a few when\nthey knew (for she had often told them) that she wished to wear them in\nher hair. And every one said how illogical it was of her, and no one\ntold her they were too large for practical purposes.\n\nOne bitterly cold night, whilst she was sitting thus at her open\ncasement, bemoaning the selfishness of the skies, and heedless of\neverything else, a mighty hubbub arose outside.\n\n\"What ho!\" called the pretty Princess. Her attendants came tumbling in\nto her in their eagerness to answer her summons.\n\n\"What's without?\" she inquired.\n\nNobody knew, and tumbled out to get to know. They rushed back and told\nher all at once that a brand new suitor had arrived at that unusual\nhour, and would she snub him at once or tarry till the morrow? It took\nher a little time to unravel what was said amidst such a babel of\nvoices.\n\n\"La! Oh my!\" suddenly exclaimed the Princess, her eyes riveted outside\non the blackness of the night. She could scarcely believe her senses,\nfor there, in her garden, stars were actually falling down in showers,\nlighting up the figure of a man who, with upstretched hand, was\nbeckoning them to come!\n\nHe was summoned at once to the royal presence, shivering and blue with\ncold; but his romantic heart throbbed at the sight of so much beauty,\nand his face assumed a warmer hue. He was so intoxicated with delight\nthat afterwards he could never quite tell how it all came about. As in a\nhaze, he remembered the Princess greeting him as the one long awaited;\nhe recollected her saying that as he could wrest the stars from the\nselfish skies, he could gratify her desire to wear some in her hair, and\nbade him go collect them.\n\nHe explained his invention. She grew impatient. He told her the\nelectricity would kill him. She shrugged her shoulders and insisted. He\ndeclined to take the risk. Whereupon she turned into a fury in her\npretty illogicality, and exclaiming that he must be the wrong man after\nall, she flung his invention into the fire and ordered him to be flung\nafter it. He took the hint by the heels and fled through the window, far\ninto the night.\n\nNot at all Content with his romantic adventure, or with life as a whole,\nhe enlisted and became a target in the front rank of the army.\n\nIt was, of course, some time later that the eldest brother--who had been\nplucked from the billows by a fisherman who happened to be passing by as\nusual--booked his passage home, and found on his arrival that the said\nhome had been sold, as advertised, for building lots in eligible plots\non easy terms, to pay expenses.\n\nThe second brother, in order to secure his freedom from prison, then and\nthere smashed up his automaton and trudged home, arriving just in time\nto join his brother in being ordered away from their former doorstep,\nthough still held responsible for the rates and taxes.\n\nAt that moment, too, the brother of the twain was deposited amongst\nthem, having been invalided to his sold-up home for life.\n\nSo, in order not to trespass for fear of prosecution, they all three sat\ndown a little outside the boundary line and recounted each to the others\ntheir adventures and their experiences. It was nightfall before they had\ndone, and they really could hardly help laughing. And then, after\nthinking things out, they shook hands all round in silence.\n\nFor the prophecy had come true. _They were content._ The three sons were\nnow thoroughly Content--to work no more, to do nothing more for the rest\nof their existence. It wasn't worth it, they said. Their disappointments\nwere over, and they were fully Content that they should be so. The\nvillagers, once more open-mouthed in their gaping, and open-minded too,\ndiffered from the inhabitants of the great city, and looked upon the\nbrothers as who should say \"three wise men,\" and took upon themselves\nthe care of them in the workhouse, and were proud to get them, and to\nshow them to visitors.\n\nAs to the beautiful Princess, she was changed by time into an old maid,\nand still kept on turning up her nose at elderly, rheumatic suitors as\nthey passed on their usual rounds.\n\nSo the old father was right after all.\n\nHis ambitious son had surmounted everything, including disappointment.\n\nHis avaricious son had succeeded in having his wants supplied for\nnothing.\n\nAnd his favourite son could jog along as romantically as the workhouse\nrules allowed, without labour and without effort.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE PICTURE GIRL\n\n\nIt was Christmas Eve, and a little girl lay in her little bed, wondering\nwhat Santa Claus was going to put in her stocking this year. It was hung\nup where he would be sure to see it, and upon the same chair before the\nfireplace she had thoughtfully placed her clothes-brush in case he might\nlike to brush off the soot from his coat.\n\nThe grate held but a few smouldering embers, for it was late, very\nlate--at least ten o'clock--and Minna ought to have been asleep hours\nago. Perhaps she would have been, only there were so many things to\nwonder about to-night, and one cannot be sure of wondering about them\nwhen one is fast asleep.\n\nSo after wondering about Santa Claus, she turned to the stars, which she\ncould see through the uncurtained window: she wondered if they twinkled\nand winked like that because they liked it or because she liked it. Then\nthere was the moon, which was looking straight at her in its own\nunblushing, beaming way and filled the room with its light; and she sat\nup in bed and watched it, wondering where it went to during the day.\n\nNow opposite her bed were three pictures, coloured and framed. One was\nof a dainty Columbine smiling at her companion picture--a Harlequin who\nstood on his toes with feet crossed, and his arms folded over his staff;\nand the pair set her wondering what she would see at the promised\npantomime.\n\nBetween them hung Minna's favourite picture. It represented a fine old\nmoated house covered with snow. On the white path which led from the\nportico were tracks of little feet, manifestly made by the little\nsmiling girl who stood in the act of passing over the bridge that\nspanned the moat. She appeared to be the same age as Minna, about six\nyears old, and was dressed in a red pelisse and fur tippet. Her dark\nhair peeped from under a red, broad-brimmed hat with drooping feathers,\nand her hands were hidden in a large fur muff.\n\nMinna herself had just such an outdoor costume, and when dressed for her\nwalk she had often wondered where the little Picture Girl could be\ngoing so gaily for hers. And now Minna wondered that once more as she\nglanced at her favourite picture, upon which the moon was shining so\nbrightly to-night, till, bathed in the bright light, it seemed to stand\nright out from the shadows of the room.\n\n[Illustration: _The Little Picture Girl_]\n\nThere was a creak, as though the old wardrobe wanted to stretch itself\nafter standing still so long--a funny little way furniture has now and\nagain. But Minna didn't think it was the wardrobe this time--she thought\nHarlequin had done it. For it seemed to her as though he had suddenly\nstretched forth his arm and struck out with his staff. No--he was just\nas usual, only somewhat darker, being in shadow; and as usual just ready\nto do something, yet never doing it.\n\nBut surely with the favourite picture there was something\ndifferent!--some change! It was always morning there. And now--why, now\nit was night! The moon was lighting up the old moated house, and the\nstars were twinkling over its heavy, white-capped roof. Minna looked for\nthe little girl in red--but there was no little girl in red on the\nbridge at all!\n\n\"Of course,\" reflected Minna, \"she must be in bed behind one of those\nlittle dormer windows fast asleep--for it must be very late.\"\n\nThis seemed strange somehow, yet it was only just as it really ought to\nbe. She herself never went for a morning walk in the middle of the\nnight, nor had she ever heard of any one else doing so.\n\nAll at once, from the distant steeple which peeped through the white\nsparkling trees beyond the bridge, came a muffled striking of the hour,\nand Minna, to her increasing surprise, counted on her fingers up to ten,\nand then there were two more. And then, to her amazement, whom should\nshe see on the bridge in the snow, which had begun gently to fall\nagain--not the little girl in red--but dear old Santa Claus himself,\ncovered up in fur and scarlet, trudging towards the house with\ntempting-looking parcels slung about him! Now he fixed a ladder against\nthe thick, frost-laden ivy which covered the front of the old house, and\nhe mounted it very carefully. Then he climbed up the roof as easily as\nif he had been walking along the high-road in the daylight. And then he\ndisappeared down one of the chimneys. Very soon he reappeared without\nquite so many parcels, slowly descended the ladder, put it upon his\nshoulder, and walked off with it.\n\nMinna's eyes followed him with the utmost astonishment and interest. Of\ncourse, she always knew that it was Santa Claus's lovely privilege to\ncome down the chimney, but she had never actually known him to do\nit--and then the joy of seeing him come out again, evidently on his\nrounds, was breathlessly delicious!\n\n[Illustration: _He mounted it very carefully_]\n\nAll was quiet now--only the moon and the stars and Minna watching over\nthe slumbering house and garden, about which the soft snow-flakes\nhovered and fluttered. She had more than ever to wonder about now. She\nlonged for a peep--just one peep--inside that beautiful house, to see if\nthe little Picture Girl was really asleep.\n\nHarlequin must have guessed what Minna wanted, for there is no doubt\nthat he gave her a knowing look (though it might have been meant for\nsweet Columbine); and just as surely Minna saw his arm stretch out and\nheard the rap of his staff upon the picture frame. Then he pretended he\nhadn't done it; but she forgot all about him, so great was her interest\nin what she saw.\n\nAt that touch of Harlequin's the scene had changed to a dainty bedroom.\nIt was dawn. A red pelisse and hat hung upon a peg on the door, and a\nlarge muff peeped from its box on the shelf. A rosy light tinged the\nface of the child who was sleeping there in the old wooden bedstead, and\nwoke her up. The first thing the little Picture Girl did was to look\nwith content into her stocking. It was very fat. And then, with a little\npant of delight, she discovered a lovely doll lying on her pillow. First\nshe hugged and then she kissed it; then she laid her new treasure beside\nher, her heavy eyelids drooped, and she fell asleep again.\n\nAnd nothing stirred.\n\n\"More, please!\" said Minna, by this time quite at home with Harlequin.\nAgain he gave that knowing look, and did as she asked. A rap, and once\nmore she saw the garden. It had stopped snowing, and the sun was rising\nover the old roof.\n\nSuddenly a little sweep appeared, swung himself up by the ivy, crept\nstealthily up the tiles, and disappeared down a chimney. In a moment he\nreappeared with a doll and a fat-looking stocking, all so quickly that,\nbefore Minna had time to clasp her hands and cry out, he was gone\naltogether. She looked at Harlequin, but he paid no attention.\n\n\"More!\" she repeated eagerly. Harlequin's staff then moved and rapped.\n\nAnd there was the breakfast-room in the old moated house. The master of\nit sat at the table reading his newspaper. Soon he looked up and nodded\nencouragingly at his little daughter, who very seriously was making his\ntea. She nodded back and smiled. But it was a sad little smile, and her\neyes were rather red, as though something had happened.\n\nThen the door opened, and, to every one's surprise, in marched a stout\nbeadle. In one hand he held a doll and a stocking full of sweets, and in\nthe other he held the collar of a little sweep, with the little sweep\nwriggling inside it. Close behind there came a tiny crippled girl, who\nmoved painfully by the aid of a crutch to the boy's side, and laid a\ntrembling hand on his arm. The brother and sister were much like one\nanother, in feature and in squalor. Great tears were rolling down her\ncheeks, and her poor face was no whiter with pain than his with fright\nbeneath the soot, though, looking lovingly at her, he tried to appear\nbrave.\n\nThe beadle noticed the little Picture Girl's look of recognition at\nsight of her lost treasures, and as he gave them back to her he pointed\nto the black marks on the doll's frock, which tallied with the little\nsweep's grimy paw, and then jerked his head towards the crippled child\nin whose possession he had found them. Then the stout beadle gave the\nboy a shake, just to remind him of his wrong-doing--as if any further\nreminder was needed!--and made for the door, dragging the wretched\noffender after him.\n\nBut the little Picture Girl showed so much distress, stopped him, and\nlooked at him so piteously, and with so much kindness in her sweet eyes,\nthat he let go his grip of the collar. Then she put the presents into\nthe boy's hand, and pushed him gently towards his sister. But the lad\nshook his head sadly, and looked more ashamed than ever.\n\n[Illustration: _In marched a stout beadle_]\n\nThe little Picture Girl glanced at her father, who had been silently\nwatching the scene. He nodded, so she pressed them on the boy, whose\neyes now filled with tears as he gazed, humbled and grateful, at the\nbeautiful young lady whose generosity saved him from punishment.\nMeanwhile, the gentleman Christmas-boxed the beadle, who smiled fatly\nand went his way. Then, for a moment or two, the picture-father's\nuplifted finger wagged a warning at the boy, who hung his head: but\nMinna could see that it was not so very terrible, because, if the boy\nhad not confessed his fault, how would the beadle have known in what\nhouse he had yielded to temptation for his sister's sake? The little\ncripple dried her eyes at seeing her brother safe, and was very grateful\nfor the gifts she hesitated to accept. But she had a right to keep them\nnow; and it was not her fault that she was the innocent cause of her\nbrother's offence.\n\nFood from the breakfast-table was wrapped up in the newspaper, the big\nbundle was put into the little sweep's arms, and the two poor waifs who\nhad entered so miserable were sent away happy at the bright moment which\nhad entered into their dark lives, whilst the little Picture Girl, who\nfor the second time had lost the presents Santa Claus had brought her,\nlooked after the poor little pair quite content, and smiled as she\nwaved good-bye with her pretty hand.\n\nThen the master of the old moated house wiped his spectacles, which\nsomehow had become quite misty. He lifted up his little daughter in his\narms and kissed her, and, putting his hand into his pocket, drew from\nhis purse a gold piece which she took with a laugh of surprise and\ndelight, and threw her arms round his dear bronzed neck.\n\nMinna saw nothing more. She must have fallen fast asleep.\n\nIt was very late when she awoke. The first thing she did was to smile as\nshe trotted off to look at what Santa Claus had put in her stocking. She\nhad seen him on his rounds. She had seen his parcels. Dear, kind old\nSanta Claus, who saves up all the year to be the loving, generous friend\nto little children at Christmas-time. Minna smiled again as the thought\nflashed through her mind. She approached her stocking. It looked rather\nthin--horridly thin. It was empty! She ran to her pillow. Nothing on it,\nnothing under it! She could not understand it. Oh, Santa Claus!\n\nShe gave a big gulp, and decided to wait and see what her father would\nsay about it. She had to bustle too, for the bell would very soon ring\nfor breakfast, at which it was her duty to preside.\n\n\"Papa, Santa Claus has forgotten me!\" were her first words after the\nmorning kiss.\n\n[Illustration: _Smiled as she waved good-bye_]\n\nAt this, her father pursed up his lips with a blank look. \"Dear, dear!\nGood gracious! 'Pon my word! What a forgetful old Santa Claus. I'm\nafraid he's getting past his work. Perhaps,\" he said, turning to the\nwindow, as a tear was gathering in each of Minna's bright eyes, \"the\nsnow was too thick.\"\n\n\"No, Funnyums\" (she often called him that), \"it wasn't the snow. I know\nhe was out in it, 'cos I saw him.\"\n\n\"Saw him, did you?\" he replied, smiling. \"Well, perhaps he gave all the\ntoys away till there were none left, and then, as the shops were shut,\nthere were no more to be had!\"\n\nMinna now felt sure her father was joking as usual, and that there must\nbe some secret.\n\n\"But perhaps, Minna, Santa Claus came to my room by mistake,\" he added.\n\"In fact, it occurred to me that he might. He's getting short-sighted,\nyou know, and--we are so very much alike. Suppose you go and see!\"\n\nAway she ran, and there, sure enough, were Funnyums's two socks hung up!\nOne looked full, the other looked empty. She found in the full one all\nsorts of good things to eat. Minna emptied it quickly.\n\n\"I wish Funnyums wore stockings,\" she murmured. Then she went to the\nempty one, which wasn't empty, because right down in the toe there was a\ngold piece!\n\nThen Funnyums was hugged, and Funnyums was thanked, and scolded for\nbeing up to his tricks again, and then hugged once more to make it all\nright. All that stirring time he was quietly pretending to read his\nnewspaper--just as though he really wanted to read it at all!\n\nAnd Minna forgot everything in the excitement of Christmas Day. That\nnight she slept soundly. The following day she went to the pantomime,\nand afterwards dreamt about Columbine.\n\nIt was only on the morrow that she noticed again her favourite picture,\nand then her mind wandered back to the wonderful things that had\nhappened there. And as she gazed at the little girl in red, who was\ngoing out so joyously for her morning walk, it occurred to her where the\nlittle Picture Girl must be going to--she was going out, as Minna was,\nto spend the gold piece _her_ father had given her!\n\n\"Ah, she deserved it,\" Minna said to herself. \"I--I don't quite think\nI've deserved mine--that is, quite so much. I should like to do\nsomething for children who suffer and are poor,\" she muttered,\n\"like--like the children in the hospital.\" And slowly, as she thought it\nout, she made up her mind that the doll she was going to buy should be a\nvery small one, and that the rest of the money from the gold piece she\nwould send to the \"Children's Hospital Fund.\"\n\nSeldom has any child felt happier than Minna did that sunny morning as\nshe donned her red pelisse and hat, and took her muff from its box. She\npaused at the door, and glanced at the little Picture Girl, who was\nsmiling back at her. \"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!\" said\nMinna out loud, dropped her a little curtsey, nodded gaily, and ran\nout.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY'S DREAM\n\n     \"She pricked her hand with the point of the spindle, and fell\n     into a deep, deep sleep.\"\n\n\nAnd the creepers that had been climbing over the castle walls for a long\ntime, searching for the turret chamber wherein the sleeping Princess\nlay--the ivy, the jessamine, the briar rose--climbed round odd niches\nand corners, as if all were curious to see the lovely maiden under the\nFairy Spell. But the years went by and none had reached so high, though\none sweet little briar rose had not given up hope, and crept steadily\nonward and spread as it went. And this is the dream of the beautiful\nPrincess:--\n\nShe dreamt that she arose and wandered forth out of the castle gates, on\nto the sunlit terrace. Her attendants had dozed over their labours, and\nshe wondered at their laziness. The peacocks had stopped in their\nstrutting and had fallen asleep; even the singing-birds in the trees had\nceased their trilling and hidden their little heads under their wings.\nBut the Princess did not tarry. She went straight on, past the closed-up\ndaisies and sunflowers and the drooping foxgloves, past the goldfish\ndrowsing in the fountain basin, for all around Nature was hushed and had\nfallen asleep.\n\nWithout hesitation she crossed the meadow of wild flowers, and reached\nthe willow path that skirted the sparkling river, and did not stop until\nshe reached a willow larger than the rest. Then, bending under its\nbranches, she neared the water's edge. There an old wooden skiff was\nmoored; lifting her silken robe, she stepped into it, unfastened the\ncord, and, reclining on the embroidered cushions, she closed her eyes\nwith a happy sigh. Away drifted the bark with its lovely burden. The\nsunlight turned to twilight with lurid gleams, and pale green flecks\njewelled the sky; the twilight turned to dark grey and silver, and the\nmoon and stars watched her on her way. The bark floated to where the\nsilent river joined the open sea; still peacefully on it went, over the\nbosom of the moonlit ocean, onward into the night.\n\nThe Princess's sweet thoughts were disturbed by the sudden stopping of\nher craft, which had run aground on the sands just where the tiny\nwavelets retreated shyly, to venture again and as quickly withdraw.\n\nSoft and balmy was the summer's night, and on the breeze music came,\nwafted towards the young Princess, who smiled and landed lightly, drawn\nby the bright strains which led her, following, to a pleasure ground.\nLights hung festooned in the great trees, and in an open space peasants\nin their picturesque costumes were dancing, and laughing as they\nstepped. The Princess, from behind a tree, gazed on the scene, on the\nglades and lake in the distance--all mysterious in the night; and as she\nlistened to the laughter and the music, she knew she had never heard\nanything so delightful before.\n\nHappy at the sight and sounds, she moved from behind the tree, and she\nsaw a young man approach her with great respect--one of a group who were\nnot dancing. The Princess would have fled, but he was already close; and\nalthough his dress betokened origin as humble as that of those around,\nhe was as handsome as a young god. They looked into one another's eyes;\nthen she accepted his invitation to dance.\n\nAfterwards they sat together on a mossy knoll and talked low--all was\nsilent around, and the light of the stars was reflected in the\nglow-worms, but the Princess did not tell him who she was; and when he\nspoke of a quest on which he was about to start, to find his unknown\nbetrothed, who awaited him in a distant land, she wept. Her sweet tears\nfell upon his hand, which he raised to his lips and reverently kissed\nthem there, and she smiled on him for doing so. But the smile faded as\nan old woman came, and, plucking him by the sleeve, told him it was the\nhour to go. And when the Princess was alone she felt as though she had\nnever known before what it was to be alone.\n\n    \"... and she would be awakened by a king's son.\"\n\nHow long a time passed by she did not know. But again she saw the\nhandsome peasant youth. And her heart sank as she thought that her\nrelease could come only through the kiss of some king's son who could\nclaim her for his wife. Then she pondered no more, for she saw the\ntraveller now, far, far away, where she could not get near him; and he\nwas in a forest path, wrestling with desperate fury with a giant who had\nbarred the way.\n\nBreathlessly she watched the youth as he struggled in the brawny\nmonster's clutch. The Princess, moved by his stress, cried out in her\nsleep. Then the rays of the noonday sun, redoubling their forceful heat,\nshone forth with overpowering energy. The giant, struck with the pain of\nit, clasped his hands to his head, and fell backwards like a log to the\nground.\n\nThe Princess knew that her love was safe, and by her fear for his\nsafety she knew, too, how dear he was to her. And she went on\ndreaming--dreaming happily of what might be the future shared with one\nshe loved so much.\n\nHer heart fluttered as with foreboding of evil. She beheld a range of\nmountains, and up the foot of one of the peaks a peasant youth toiled\nhis weary course. But the mountain was so slippery that his efforts were\nof no avail. As he gazed round she could see the handsome features,\nclouded by fatigue that almost was despair. She saw that the mountain\nwas glistening, and that it was made of ice.\n\nThen she felt the breath of summer. She saw it lift the white pall from\nthe earth--she saw it melt the belt of ice, and as she looked the\nmountain dissolved into water under the warmth of her love. She saw that\nhe was safe, trudging over the carpet of cowslips, smiling as he went.\nShe wanted to run towards him, but he passed through a thicket and\ndisappeared from sight.\n\nThe Princess arose to follow him. But she lost her way, and wandered on\nand on through a dense forest, where nothing stirred but scampering\nhares and startled squirrels.\n\nAt last, towards evening, she came to a path all gay with glowing\nflowers, refreshed by their evening bath of dew, and whispering to one\nanother a hushed good-night ere closing their eyes to the light. As the\nPrincess passed along, the strains of an organ fell upon her ear, and\nshe saw a great temple before her. She stood at the open door. Within,\nhundreds of candles lighted the vast grey dome. And far beyond, in a\nhaze of mystery, stood the man she loved, and by his side his bride, all\nveiled in white. And she knew his quest was done, and that he had found\nher whom he had gone to seek. Then there was a stir in the multitude,\nand a peal of bells rang out on the stillness without. The Princess sank\ndown and felt as though she swooned.\n\nA kiss was on her lips, and she trembled, for she knew the moment had\ncome for the Prince to claim her. But the kiss was sweet. The Sleeping\nBeauty came slowly back to consciousness; she awoke, and before her was\na tall knight in silver armour. His handsome features were lighted up\nwith joy: she knew him well, and, enfolded in his embrace, she murmured\nhappily:--\n\n\"It is you, O Prince, the youth of my dream!\"\n\nAnd the little briar rose peeped in at the turret casement and nodded in\nthe breeze at the lovers as they sat close clasped, and as the bells\npealed forth, told the news to the ivy, which told it to the jessamine,\nuntil soon the tidings spread over the great city far and wide, and over\nall the joyful land.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GAMEKEEPER'S DAUGHTER\n\n\n\"Just run up to the Grange and tell her ladyship the bull-pup is doing\nnicely, and that you bandaged its leg as she showed you. Make haste,\nlass, if you're not too tired, as her ladyship would like to know before\nshe drives out.\"\n\n\"All right, Dad; I'll run. It's much too cold to walk.\"\n\nRogers, the gamekeeper, glanced with pride after the little retreating\nfigure, and then, as his old mother was standing in the draughty porch\nawaiting him, he kissed her wrinkled face, and they entered the cottage\ntogether.\n\nNancy was soon at the Grange, her cheeks aglow under the scarlet hood of\nher cloak. New people were at the big house, and there seemed a deal of\nbustle going on. She waited in the vestibule and stared at the\nbrightness, at the beautiful pictures and decorations where, ever since\nshe had known the Grange, all had been damp and decay. She had never\nseen anything like this before, and she was enjoying the novelty, mixed\nwith awe at all the grandeur, when a little girl richly dressed, about\nthree years old, ran up to her. Nancy dropped a little bob of a curtsey,\nas her grandmother had taught her to do to the gentry.\n\nLittle Iris was not at all shy, and was full of one thought only--the\nthought of Christmas--so that she burst out with: \"D'you know\nto-morrow's Christmas Day?\" and, without waiting for a reply, she\nbabbled on: \"I'm going to have such boo'ful things--a dolly that sends\nkisses, a pamberlator for her to ride in, a gold watch with real ticks,\nand a titten with real scratches. Guess who'll bring them.\"\n\n\"Her ladyship?\" ventured Nancy, dazzled at such a haul of magnificence.\n\n\"No, not Mummy,\" exclaimed Iris, capering with delight and revealing\nmore of her frills and laces.\n\n\"I can't guess, Miss,\" said Nancy, smiling through her diffidence--which\nwas just what Iris wanted her to say.\n\n\"It's Santa Claus! Santa Claus always brings me just what I want. Isn't\nit clever?\"\n\n\"Who's Santa Claus? Is it your aunt, Miss?\"\n\n\"I'm 'peaking to you about Santa Claus--a gen'lman. I've not seen\nhim--never been able to catch him yet.\"\n\n\"Catch him! But who tells him what you want?\" She was getting quite\ninterested.\n\n\"The little bird.\"\n\nNancy felt completely mystified. What a different world this seemed to\nhers!\n\n\"What toys are _you_ going to get?\" continued Iris.\n\n\"Oh, no _toys_. I live in the cottage in the forest. Dad is always so\nbusy, and I help him look out for poachers--so I have useful presents, I\ndon't have toys. Granny gave me this warm cloak last year; and then,\nDad's pockets get so full of sweets that they last for months.\"\n\n\"Sweets and useful things aren't p'esents,\" said Iris, surprised. \"Poor\nlittle girl! Wouldn't you like toys?\" she added.\n\n\"I think so, Miss--at least, I've not seen many. Cousin Janey has a\nskipping-rope and a workbox, but she won't let me touch them.\"\n\n\"Ah! you've been here long enough, Iris darling. I hear Nurse calling\nyou,\" exclaimed a soft voice, and her ladyship, with a kindly look at\nthe visitor, laughingly caught up her little daughter in her arms before\nthe child even knew she was there. Then she received the message, gave\nthe little messenger a slice of cake, and in a moment Nancy was\nleisurely munching the fee as she trudged her way back on the grass\nthrough the frosty park. The dusk was gathering, when suddenly in the\nstillness she heard a dull thwack as of a stick against a branch--which\ncaused her to stop and listen. She knew what the sound meant.\n\n\"That's one of those poachers: he's knocked down a pheasant, I'll be\nbound!\" said the gamekeeper's daughter to herself. \"I'll just be after\nhim!\" and, gathering her skirts close around her, she crept through into\na thick plantation. She had the intrepid fearlessness of her father,\nwhose companion on his rounds she had been, when no danger was thought\nto be afoot, ever since she was old enough to ride pickaback. It came\nquite natural to her to help him, and though the old grandmother\ngrumbled at her boyish ways she said nothing, for the child was obedient\nenough, and could read and write and sew; and, moreover, her son would\nbrook no interference with his treasure--especially since her mother had\ndied.\n\n\"Drop that!\" cried Nancy. \"Who's there?\"\n\nHearing only a girl's voice, a rough-looking fellow emerged grinning\nfrom behind a tree, with the dead bird he had just picked up in his\nhand. A limp bag was slung over his shoulder, a stout staff was in his\nother hand, and a snarling \"lurcher\" dog slunk at his feet.\n\n\"Steady, Muffins!\" said the man, giving the cowering animal a gentle\nkick as a reminder. \"Now, Missy, what can I do for you?\"\n\n[Illustration: \"_You can just hand over that pheasant_\"]\n\n\"You can just hand me over that pheasant. Ah! it's you, is it? I know\nyou, Tom Grollins, and I'll report you to the gamekeeper.\"\n\nThe poacher gazed at her stupidly for a moment. \"Give you the blessed\nbird and be reported too, Missy? Come, that ain't 'ardly fair, is it?\n(_Will_ yer lie down, Muffins?) Now look 'ere. If I give yer the bird,\nwill y'promise not to say a word as it was Tom Grollins--on yer davey,\nnow? Will y'promise, Missy?\"\n\nShe nodded. Tom Grollins was not very strong of intellect, and he was a\nknown coward, and as the sound of a carriage was heard close by, the\nbargain was hastily concluded; the pheasant was handed over without\nfurther parley on the undertaking of the promise--\"No names.\"\n\nThe promise, of course, Nancy faithfully kept when she delivered to her\nfather the bird she had demanded with such pluck and authority, and told\nhim how she had got it. The gamekeeper laughed, remarking that he\nwouldn't press her, but could make a pretty shrewd guess if he chose.\nHowever, she was worth her weight in gold, he said, and he patted her on\nthe head for a trump--and Nancy felt uncommonly proud. But she didn't\nquite understand what he meant when he said that terms such as she had\nmade would not be quite approved of by the Lord Chancellor.\n\nThen as Granny came in Nancy told of all she had seen, and of all the\nwonderful presents the tiny lady at the Grange was going to receive at\nChristmas, because she wanted them; and that a gentleman staying at the\nhouse called Mr. Santa Claus gave them, and knew what to get, because a\nbird--a parrot, she supposed--had heard and told him what the little\nlady wanted.\n\nThat night when Nancy was in bed she could think of nothing else but\nSanta Claus and the wonderful toys; and the thoughts were just beginning\nto get confused with a greatly envied skipping-rope and workbox, when\nshe suddenly sat bolt upright in bed wide awake.\n\nHer room was a tiny one leading off the kitchen, and in the moonlight\nshe had just seen Tom Grollins pass by--this time with a full bag on his\nback, and the faithful Muffins was close at his heels.\n\n\"Well, I never did!\" exclaimed Nancy, in her astonishment and vexation\nunconsciously quoting her grandmother; \"I _never_ did! Now what's to be\ndone? Gran's no use--Dad's out. But Dad's sure to find that wicked\npoacher,\" she reflected, on hearing the clock strike nine: \"he's in the\nforest, and can't be far.\" And she lay back, relieved at the thought\nthat her father had suspiciously refused the invitation of a shabby,\ngaitered, and very doubtful sportsman, to drink Christmas in with\nmulled beer at the village tavern. She had heard her father remark\nafterwards that he wanted \"to be within earshot of gunshot.\" So she\nwouldn't worry, for Tom wouldn't get the things after all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter a time Nancy changed her mind. As in a dream, but not feeling a\nbit sleepy, she quickly donned her cloak, stealthily opened the kitchen\ndoor so as not to disturb the old lady, and hastened out into the night.\nCuriously enough, she didn't feel cold in the bleak air--and in her\nhurry she never even noticed she was without shoes or stockings.\n\nIn front of her was a man, and she quickened her pace. She soon overtook\nhim--sooner than she expected, for dark clouds overshadowed the moon,\nand she was at his side before she knew it.\n\n\"Tom Grollins!\" she exclaimed, breathless and indignant: \"how dare you!\nI've caught you again!\"\n\n\"I'm not Tom Grollins,\" replied her companion in a deep, manly voice, in\nwhich a funny chuckle seemed to rumble.\n\nFor a moment the child hesitated. It certainly didn't sound like Tom\nGrollins's whiny treble, but then--perhaps he was pretending, so as to\nput her off.\n\n\"Yes, you are,\" she retorted firmly. \"Now, what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"It's a secret.\"\n\n\"You're after poaching again. I shall report you to Dad. And,\" she added\nseverely, \"you've just got to give me this very minute all you've got in\nthat bag.\"\n\n\"All in my bag? Softly, softly: wouldn't that be highway robbery, with\nthreats?\" answered the jolly voice, and with a laugh--\"Oh, greedy!\"\n\nNancy stopped and stared hard, but it was too dark for her to see him,\nas she had done from her bed. He had stopped too.\n\n\"Who are you, then?\" she asked lamely.\n\n\"Santa Claus,\" came the reply.\n\n\"Santa Claus!\" repeated the child in astonishment.\n\nThe dark cloud-wrack happened to part, and Nancy saw towering above her\nthe dearest and most imposing old gentleman imaginable, with a large\nsmiling face and long white beard. White curly hair fringed his\nholly-decked scarlet cap, and his long, loose, red coat revealed here\nand there glimpses of scarlet plush beneath. Instead of rabbits and\npheasants, he was laden with the newest of toys; and as to Muffins, he\nwas nowhere to be seen--unless he was that toy-dog dangling from the\noverflowing bag, and wearing a leather collar with bell attached, and\na leather muzzle that ought to allay the fears of the most nervous.\n\n[Illustration: \"_Who are you, then?_\"]\n\n\"Yes, little woman, I am Santa Claus--himself!\" he repeated, with his\njolly chuckle.\n\n\"I--I--beg your pardon,\" stammered Nancy, quite confused.\n\n\"It's all right,\" he replied good-humouredly. \"Now shall I see you home\nbefore I continue my rounds?\"\n\n\"Oh, may I come with you?\" The words had dropped out of her mouth before\nshe could stop herself.\n\nSanta Claus shook his head. \"Come with me, indeed? I should think not!\nCome with me? 'Pon my word!\" Then he hesitated and smiled, and said\nkindly, \"Well, come along, dear. You're a good, brave little girl. But\nyou must know I've never made such an exception before. However, it's so\nodd to find a child who doesn't know me--even such a little village\nmouse as you--that we must really make one another's acquaintance.\"\n\nHe drew Nancy under his cloak to keep her extra warm, and to hide her\nfrom view, and he showed her how she could peep out. Then he took her by\nthe hand, and the quaint pair proceeded along the mysterious-looking\nforest until they came to the part Nancy loved best. There, heaps and\nheaps of fir-trees grew, the tall ones protecting the wee ones, and the\nwee ones doing their best to try and grow tall too.\n\nSanta Claus stood still, and looked around, as if in preparation of some\nimportant matter. Nancy felt something was going to happen, and she\npeered up into the face of her guide.\n\n\"Father Christmas has come!\" he proclaimed loudly at last.\n\nAnd then what a change there was! The fir-trees all became\nChristmas-trees, lighted each one--big and little--with candles, blue or\ngreen, yellow or red, each burning with the same coloured light. And\nfrom the diamond-frosted branches hung toys innumerable. At the top of\neach tree stood triumphant a fairy-doll with wand outstretched.\n\nNancy clasped her hands with rapture at the sight. \"Oh, Santa Claus!\"\nwas all she could exclaim.\n\nHe lifted her on to his shoulder, and let her gaze until she had gazed\nenough. Now, indeed, she realised what toys were--whence they came, and\nhow they grew.\n\nThen she felt he was carrying her away, and her heart beat with\ncuriosity and excitement, for she knew Santa Claus was proceeding on his\nrounds to pay visits to all the sleeping children who deserved it, while\nshe was clinging to his dear old neck, and would see all that went on.\n\nThe first visit was to Iris at the Grange, whither Santa Claus was\nalready on his way. They entered the pretty bedroom, where the spoilt\nlittle lady was smiling in anticipation in her sleep; and the \"dolly,\npamberlator, watch, and titten with real scratches\" (immovably asleep)\nwere all produced as though by some conjuring trick from Santa Claus's\nbasket or deep pockets, and duly placed to meet the child's eager glance\non her waking.\n\n\"Mr. Santa Claus,\" whispered Nancy, who had been wondering all the time,\n\"how did we get here?\"\n\n\"Chimney!\" he whispered back.\n\n\"Chimney?\"\n\nSanta Claus nodded.\n\nThis didn't make her much wiser, for to her knowledge she had never seen\nthe inside of a chimney in her life; but she forgot to pursue the\nsubject now that something more interesting was going on.\n\nIris had vanished, and a pale little boy lay asleep in a room above a\nflower shop.\n\n\"He doesn't care for toys,\" whispered Santa Claus; \"he loves that pink\ngeranium by his side.\" And a gaily painted watering-pot was placed next\nto his flowering possession. \"How white in comparison with the blossom\nthe suffering, pinched little face looks on the pillow!\" thought Nancy;\n\"he _will_ be pleased.\" Before they left, Santa Claus filled the can\nwith water from the cracked toilet jug.\n\nIn the large house across the way were sounds of bright music--a party\nwas going on.\n\n\"I'm afraid it's too early to go there yet,\" said Santa Claus,\nconsulting his great watch. \"However, we'll go and see; it's really high\ntime for all youngsters to be in bed.\" In the night-nursery were two\ncots. Both were empty. \"I must call on my way back,\" he said.\n\nJust then the door opened, and childish voices were heard shouting:\n\"Santa Claus! We'll catch him if we're quick!\"\n\nAnd there was only just time for the two travellers to disappear before\nthe lights were turned up and the owners of the cots rushed in.\n\n\"Nearly caught that time!\" exclaimed Santa Claus, as they proceeded on\ntheir way (it was extraordinary how alert and agile he was for such an\nold and portly gentleman), and he burst out into a loud laugh, and only\nrecovered from it as they entered a long room full of small beds. It was\ndecorated with holly and mistletoe. A light burned at one end, where sat\na pleasant-looking nurse half-screened in the corner by the fire.\n\nNancy followed Santa Claus's movements with breathless interest as he\nflitted to each little sleeping occupant of the hospital ward--for such\nit was--placing here a toy horse of skin and harness with a long wavy\ntail; there a lovely picture-book with a green cover, on which the\ntitle was printed in large gold letters.\n\nTwice only did Nancy heave a little sigh, quickly repressed, and her\neyes filled with longing: once when a skipping-rope was loosely tied\nround the clasped hands of a little girl who was convalescent, and was\ngoing to leave, as Santa Claus explained; and once again when, creeping\non tiptoe, he placed under the chair of the dozing nurse a very smart\nworkbox, with the name engraved on top.\n\nEvery now and then Santa Claus would linger to smooth the look of pain\nfrom a little suffering face into a smile, or touch with his cool palm a\nlittle fevered hand.\n\nAs she trotted round with him, tears of pity and happy sympathy filled\nNancy's eyes, and she tried to give Santa Claus a good hug--only she\ncouldn't reach half-way round--while he tenderly wiped those tears on\nhis big cuff, and carried her off, a long way, to a very poor cottage.\nThere they peeped round from behind the door.\n\nEverything looked bright, and sounded happy too, and every now and\nagain, amid the laughter and the chatter, the arrival of Santa Claus was\ngaily prophesied. Three little girls were dancing round three of those\ntiny decorated Christmas-trees Nancy had seen that eve, and their\nparents, looking on happily, echoed their exclamations of joy. She was\nsurprised to see so much jollity in so poor a place; but Santa Claus\ndidn't seem to be so--he merely muttered, \"It's all right this year!\"\nand withdrew with her the same way they had come.\n\n\"And now,\" remarked Santa Claus cheerily, \"before I go back to the party\nchildren or do anything else I must visit all the other hospitals. I've\nbrought you home because you must be very tired, little woman. I'm\nterribly busy to-night--half afraid I shan't get it over in time: just\nthink of the disappointment if I don't! So good-night, Nancy! Pleasant\ndreams! A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!\"\n\nAnd his kind face bent over her in bed, as it had over so many others\nthat Christmas Eve; and as he pressed her hand he added, with a smile,\n\"I've a terrible lot to do, and I mustn't forget _anybody_!\"\n\nThe dawn heralded once again a Christmas Day, and when the sun peeped\nforth he awoke Nancy. She looked round, and uttered a cry of surprise\nand delight. For before her astonished eyes she seemed to see a little\nfairy-land all to herself. Grouped about her bed were a skipping-rope, a\nworkbox--both handsomer than Janey's--and a little box besides. She\ncouldn't believe they were real, so she felt them all over, and not only\nfound they were quite real, but the little box when it was touched sent\nforth the most lovely, mysterious music.\n\n\"Dear, kind, darling Santa Claus!\" exclaimed Nancy. Then she saw that\nbeside them there was also a plum pudding with a Christmas card\nattached, from the new mistress of the Grange. What was puzzling was\nthat on a chair close by hung three pairs of her father's new socks with\na paper asking her to mark them; but they were marked already, and were\nfull of good things to eat.\n\nNever in all her nine years had Nancy had such a Christmas. After saying\nher morning prayers, she sat down at the table, where, with elbows\noutspread and her little tongue peeping out as she moved her pen, she\nwrote the following letter:--\n\n     \"DEAR MR. CLAUS,--Thank you very much for those lovely\n     presents: I like them very much. And thank you for the lovely\n     time I had going about with you last night. I shall never\n     forget it. Please forgive me for thinking you were the wicked\n     poacher, Tom Grollins. I must now say good-bye.\n\n     \"I send you 200 kisses (x x x etsetra).\n\n                                       \"Your grateful little friend,\n                                                     \"NANCY ROGERS.\"\n\nAnd then she addressed it to him at the Grange.\n\nWhen Nancy had stamped and posted it, her grandmother and her father\ncame in to breakfast, and received Nancy's grateful thanks, for she wore\na pretty new frock. Then she told them that as she had hurried back\nfrom the post-box, so as not to be late for breakfast, she had heard the\nhead gardener say to the butler that Tom Grollins had been seen that\nnight striding quietly along with a big bag well stuffed.\n\n\"But, Dad,\" continued his daughter with conviction, \"it isn't true. I'm\nsure it's a mistake.\"\n\n\"Why isn't it true, lass?\" inquired her father. \"It's likelier to be\ntrue than not.\"\n\n\"Because I made the same mistake myself,\" said Nancy.\n\n\"Well, it would take a good deal to persuade me that my little meeting\nwith that slippery rascal turned out to be a mistake!\" exclaimed the\ngamekeeper, as he set down his cup and smiled with satisfaction. \"When\ndid you meet him, little woman?\"\n\n\"Last night.\"\n\n\"And who do you fancy it was, dearie?\" asked the old grandmother.\n\n\"I _know_ who it was, Gran. It was Mr. Santa Claus!\" As they smiled\nstill, she ran and fetched his presents she was anxious to show.\n\nAnd Nancy knew she was right, and that it _was_ Santa Claus, for nothing\nmore was heard of the poacher Tom Grollins for ever so long, and every\none Nancy asked seemed to know all about Santa Claus having been on his\nrounds that night--even those who hadn't seen him.\n\n[Illustration: _She ran and fetched his presents she was anxious to\nshow_]\n\n\n\n\nALL ON A FIFTH OF NOVEMBER\n\nMORNING\n\n\nIt might have been the middle of the night; but it wasn't--it was Guy\nFawkes' Day, and eight o'clock on a foggy morning. The London square was\nmore than usually hushed and mournful, except for a warning call or\nwhistle as a van cautiously lumbered along, or blundered on to the\npavement. The nursery fire did its best to look cheerful: the lights\nwere all on too, showing up the bright pictures on the walls and the\nbright faces of the three children who were chattering gaily at the\nbreakfast-table. And they all looked so smart! Alec and Frank in their\nbest suits, and tiny Molly wore her prettiest white frock and her coral\nnecklace, just as if she were going to a party.\n\nThey soon scrambled off their chairs, and Molly, standing on tiptoe,\nseized hold of a bunch of lilies tied up with ribbon that was on the\nside table, and each of her brothers eagerly possessed himself of a neat\nbrown paper parcel.\n\nIt was Father's birthday. The occasion was always kept as a holiday, and\nthe children were waiting for his call to summon them to his\ndressing-room.\n\n\"I think he must be fifty!\" remarked Alec.\n\n\"I fink he's fifteen,\" said their little sister.\n\nShe spoke in a tone of conviction, accompanied by a toss of her short\ncurls.\n\n\"Don't be silly, Mollikins,\" replied the boys with a laugh; but she said\nshe was sure she was right.\n\n\"Halloa, Kidlets! Come along down!\" came the shout of a manly voice.\nThere was a stampede, and a race as to who should get there first. Molly\narrived a bad third, but it was she who was first for him, for he went\ntowards her and picked her up. She put her free arm around his neck, but\ninstead of making him her little speech she exclaimed as he kissed her--\n\n\"Why, Daddy, your chin is full of splinters!\"\n\nThe boys delivered their presents, and were kissed or patted on the\nhead, and thanked, before Molly parted with the flowers which she held\nso tightly in her little fist.\n\n\"Your Babyship is very kind,\" said her father, gratefully shaking her by\nthe hand, and, laughing still, he put her down. Then he took her hint,\nand seriously began to shave.\n\nThey knew they mustn't talk to him whilst that important function was\nproceeding, so the three stood still, deeply absorbed as they watched\nthe performance that fascinated them with its dangers and its\nhairbreadth escapes.\n\n\"_Now_ I can kiss my little Mollikins and she won't complain.\" He put\ndown the towel, took her up again, and rubbed his smooth cheek against\nhers.\n\n\"Daddy, tell me how old you are,\" she asked, looking into his eyes.\n\n\"Oh, how can I do that? It's a secret.\"\n\n\"Do whisper it,\" she coaxed. After a moment's hesitation he smilingly\nwhispered something into her ear.\n\n\"Oh, what a 'tock of years!\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"What is it?\" clamoured Alec. \"I'm sure I'm right.\"\n\n\"I'm sure I am!\" asserted Frank.\n\n\"I _know_!\" cried the delighted Molly, bursting with importance. \"May I\ntell?\" Her father nodded. \"Twenty-one!\" she exclaimed triumphantly.\n\n\"Bosh! Why, he said he was that last year!\" cried Frank.\n\n\"And the year before,\" asserted Alec; \"and the year before that--I\nremember quite well. Father always says that.\"\n\n\"Guy!\" called their mother just then. \"Please send the children in to\nme.\" She was having her morning tea, so the young people ran into the\nadjoining room to hug her and be hugged in return.\n\n\nNOON\n\n\"Sun's tum out!\" announced Molly, as she toddled away from the nursery\nwindow.\n\n\"Hooray!\" shouted Frank. \"It's going to be fine for this evening!\"\n\nThere were going to be great doings. Father's birthday and Guy Fawkes'\nDay made a grand double event long looked forward to with enjoyment.\n\n\"Hooray!\" echoed Alec rather feebly, for he was desperately busy.\nOutside--now that the fog had lifted--the busy hum could be heard of\neveryday life, mingled with boys' shouts as they trundled a guy about.\n\n\"I've found something out!\" suddenly exclaimed Alec in a curious voice,\nand he spread out on the table the front page of an old _Times_. \"Look\nhere, Frank!\" he continued in growing excitement. \"Here, under the\nBirths--marked with red pencil--'Guy Thompson!' That's Father--here's\nthe date. Wait a moment. Now I'll reckon it out. Hush! Don't say\nanything while I do the sum. _I say!_ Father _is_ twenty-one!\"\n\n\"_I_ knew it!\" exclaimed Molly, capering about. \"I told you so.\"\n\n\"Rubbish!\" said Frank. \"Molly, do shut up. Alec, where did you find that\npaper? How did it come here?\"\n\n\"I found it there, on the rocking-chair. It looks old, and it _is_ old.\nSee, here's the date. It's very funny! I wish we could find out--it\n_would_ be jolly to find out all by ourselves, if this really can be\ntrue. I say, I know who'd tell us. I've heard all about Somerset\nHouse--where you can get to know about people and their affairs--only I\ndon't know where the place is, or who lives there.\"\n\n\"An omlibus will take us anywhere,\" spoke up Molly.\n\n\"Who's _us_?\" inquired Frank scornfully.\n\n\"Never mind _her_,\" said Alec excitedly. \"I'll tell you what. Listen:\nthis afternoon, when we've got to be in the play-room, let's go in a cab\nto Somerset House, and just get to know once for all. I've got four\nshillings in my money-box; what have you got?\"\n\n\"I'll count.\" Frank counted up to five shillings.\n\n\"The man may want more. Mollikins, what have you got in your purse?\"\n\n\"Dot sixpence.\"\n\n\"Well, if you pay your share, we'll take you with us--that is, if you\ncan put on your own hat. I can help you with your coat.\" And so it was\narranged.\n\nAnd at three o'clock that cold afternoon Alec, Frank, and Molly might\nhave been seen stealing forth into the keen air; they were supposed to\nbe playing at marbles in the garret or they might have been seen, and\npacked back again. The boys were well muffled up, and Molly had her hat\non with the back to the front. The three were in high spirits once they\nwere off, and they realised the full importance of such an adventure. In\nAlec's hand was the sheet of newspaper in which the truth of the\nparagraph was to be tested. Alec hailed the first cab, the driver shook\nhis head. The second paid no attention. The third asked them who they\nthought they were getting at and where they thought they were going to.\n\n\"Somerset House!\" ordered Alec, after quickly lifting Molly in, and\nFrank had closed the door smartly. On the way there they behaved much\nbetter than they usually did when they drove out. No one fidgeted; no\none complained of feeling hungry, or thirsty, or tired, or anything.\n\nWhen they alighted the cabman was told to wait. Molly and her brothers\npassed through the imposing gateway of Somerset House, and were starting\nto cross the quadrangle, when they saw the Beadle in his fine uniform\n(whom they took to be the Duke), and learned from him where they could\nfind the room of which they were in search.\n\n\"Births, please,\" said Alec, bold as brass, to the gentleman behind the\ncounter. He was leader and spokesman whenever they went shopping, and he\nwas leader and spokesman to-day. Frank never interfered. And Molly had\ngone stonily shy. \"Births, please,\" repeated Alec, impatient at being\nstared at.\n\n\"What name?\" said the gentleman, looking at them amused.\n\n\"Thompson,\" replied Alec.\n\n\"Any particular Thompson? You see, we may have several Thompsons in our\nentries--five or six at least.\"\n\n\"This is Mr. Guy Thompson,\" said Alec, showing the marked paragraph.\n\n\"Very well,\" said the gentleman (who, thought Alec, must be the Duke's\nbutler). \"But have you got the fee?-the half-crown you must pay for the\nsearch?\"\n\n\"A half-crown's very dear,\" said Alec. \"Can't you do it for less?\"\n\nThe gentleman looked at them with kindly eyes. \"I dare say I can,\" he\nreplied, putting his hand in his pocket, and rattling some coins. \"But\nI'm afraid you'll have to pay a shilling. The King wants one.\" They paid\ntheir shilling for the King; watched while the gentleman looked up his\nrecords, and followed him into the corridor as he prosecuted his search.\nAt last he said--\n\n\"Quite right. Born on the fifth of November: year's all right. It's all\nin order.\"\n\n\"Then Father _is_ twenty-one?\" queried both boys doubtfully.\n\nMolly hopped on one foot in suppressed excitement.\n\n\"_Your father!_\" exclaimed the kindly clerk, handing back the coin.\n\"Why, how old are you?\"\n\n\"Ten,\" replied Alec. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"And so your father married at the age of ten or thereabouts, did he?\nDear me; very precocious of him!\" exclaimed the clerk, with such a\nserious face that the children felt quite uncomfortable. They had not\nconsidered the matter in that light at all. Their faces fell, and they\nfelt such a wish they had never come that without a word of explanation\nthey turned and fled. They were glad to be once more outside the\nbuilding, and thankful to find the cabman still there waiting to take\nthem back, and in their discomfiture he was hailed by them joyfully as a\ndear old friend.\n\n\"Home!\" said Alec, when they were inside.\n\n\"And where might that happen to be?\" asked the driver with interest.\n\nMolly, womanlike, jumped at a conclusion. \"We're lost!\" she wailed, and\nburst into tears, and it was only when she was in sight of her own\nnursery windows that she was comforted, and smiled once more. Without\nany inquiry, all their remaining savings were emptied into the willing\npalm of the delighted driver, who bowed his acknowledgments repeatedly.\n\nThe children ran through the garden entrance unobserved, and had just\ngot their outdoor things off when the tea-bell rang.\n\n\nNIGHT\n\nWhen Alec, Frank, and Molly entered the drawing-room, where their\nparents were in readiness, for the great annual frolic with Father, they\ndidn't tumble in as was their usual habit; they walked in sedately. They\nhad something important to say.\n\n\"Truly, Daddy, how old are you?\" asked Molly, running up to him. She\nwouldn't be hushed down by the boys. She felt she wanted to make sure of\nwhat she already knew.\n\n\"I told you I was twenty-one, of course! One always expects such a nice\nlot of presents when one is twenty-one! But you two young rascals\nevidently think I really must be a very old man of forty at least!\" he\nreplied, smiling.\n\n\"And does he never grow older, Mummy?\"\n\n\"I don't see it, Molly darling.\"\n\n\"Do you ever see the _Times_, boys?\" he inquired.\n\n\"That's just what's so queer,\" said Alec. \"I've got it here.\" Alec\nnoticed the glance which his parents exchanged, and their expression of\nastonishment when Frank remarked--\n\n\"We took it with us this afternoon to Somerset House.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" corroborated Alec.\n\n\"Me, too,\" chimed in Molly.\n\nAnd then they told of all they had done, and their parents tried to look\ngrave, but couldn't, and could scarcely speak for laughing, though they\nextorted a promise that nothing of the kind should ever again be\nattempted without permission.\n\n\"Surely, what is in the _Times_,\" reasoned their father, \"must be\ntrue--at least one must presume so.\"\n\n\"Halloa,\" broke in Alec. \"I say, Frank! Look here! This Guy Thompson was\nborn in Cambridge Square! I never noticed that. Weren't you born in\nOxford Square, Father?\"\n\n\"Well, I think I might just as well have been born in one as in the\nother. All I know is, that if I _was_ twenty-one, I am twenty-one--_and_\nthe rest--you never asked me how many more. Come along, boys, now for\nour cushion-fight! But first of all, here are your expenses back\nagain--your Babyship, there's your sixpence--and now I really can't wait\nany longer for a romp!\"\n\nSoon the room was gay with laughter. Father, too, had to be a real guy\nand a \"pretend\" one, pushed about in the arm-chair with a funny long\nnose spoiling his jolly face. And afterwards they all danced whilst\ntheir mother played a hornpipe--and really it _was_ very difficult to\nguess Father's years, they might have been anything!\n\nThen he suddenly ran out. There was a rush to the window, the blind was\ndrawn up, and soon, in the darkness of the night, a grand\ncatharine-wheel was seen whizzing round in a blaze of dripping fire.\nThen such a glorious shoot of rockets arose! Whish! bang! whish! bang!\nthey went as they burst, each of them, into a shower of gorgeous stars\nall purple, and green, and gold.\n\n\"A--a--h!\" exclaimed the three children, gazing with rapture. And--\n\n\"A--a--h!\" they repeated over and over and over again, as splendour\nfollowed splendour, and the sky was powdered again and again with sparks\nof coloured fire.\n\n\n\n\nFATHER CHRISTMAS AT HOME\n\nTWILIGHT\n\n\nIt was afternoon on a cold December day. Eva, all alone in the\nschoolroom, sat down on the hearthrug and looked thoughtfully into the\nfire. She was, however, not quite alone, for her tiny Yorkshire terrier\nsprang on her lap, and after turning round and round, pawing at her\nfrock as though to make a comfortable hollow, settled cosily down.\n\n\"Dot,\" she said, smoothing the hair back from its eyes, \"I'm very\nmiserable. To-morrow is Christmas Eve, and every one is happy except me.\nI'm in trouble again. Somehow, I'm always in trouble--I've spoilt my\nvelvet frock washing your feet--and you didn't want them washed, did\nyou?\" The Honourable Dot--to give it its full title--looked desirous of\nforgetting the incident, then licked her hand as a reply seemed\nexpected.\n\n\"Perhaps if I had some brothers and sisters they'd get into mischief\nsometimes, and it wouldn't always be me.\" Dot paid no heed to her\ngrammar, was bored, and sighed heavily.\n\n\"I really didn't mean it when I said, 'I gloried in being naughty.'\nDon't snore, Honourable! There'll be complaints from next door.\"\n\nIt was curious, but Eva was having remorse, brought on by all the talk\nof Peace and Goodwill which was in the air. \"I've tried things before,\"\nshe muttered; \"but I know what I'll do this time,\" she exclaimed, \"I'll\ngive a cot to a hospital!\"\n\nThe little dog growled a protest as she suddenly got up from the floor.\nEva counted the money in her money-box. \"I've five shillings all but\nthree farthings. I'm sure that is nothing like enough!\" she mused. \"It\nmust cost at least a million sterling pounds!\" Tears came into her eyes,\nbut they flowed down on to a smile, as she thought of some one who\nalways managed to do kind deeds and who might help her. Father\nChristmas! Eva thought of asking no less a person than Father Christmas\nhimself to advise her. But how to find him and get a nice quiet chat\nwith him was the difficulty. That he would come to her on Christmas Eve\nshe had no doubt, as he never forgot her; but she had only managed to be\nawake and see him once, a long time ago, and then she but got a glimpse\nof him, for he rushed out of her room as though in a terrible hurry.\n\nDot's little mistress slept badly that night; she was racking her brain\nas to how she could manage to remain awake so as to see Father\nChristmas when he came, and then how she could coax him to stay for a\ntalk--for she knew quite well how busy he must be when he was on his\nrounds.\n\nThe following afternoon, during a general rummage that was going on to\nfind tiny candles and coloured glass balls that were over from last\nyear's Christmas tree, Eva picked up a scrap of printed paper, which had\ncome out of an old cracker. She took it upstairs to her favourite spot\non the hearthrug, and read it aloud to Dot:--\n\n    \"Father Christmas sends this note\n    From out his mansion by the moat,\n    To all who live on land and sea,\n    To honour Christmas Day with glee--\n    Inviting them to pass his way,\n    With glee to honour Christmas Day.\"\n\nEva flushed with excitement. \"Why, it's a message from him!\" she cried.\n\"It's some kind of invitation!\" and she gave Dot such a squeeze of\ndelight that the little creature squeaked shrilly, scurried off, and\nlaid low under the table.\n\nShe thought and puzzled and pondered over the lines she had just read.\nAt last she grasped their meaning. \"Of course! How simple, after all!\"\nshe concluded. \"He lives at some moated house, and I must go to him, not\nwait for him to come to me. He always comes down the chimney--that's\nthe way I must go up!\"\n\nEva didn't hesitate a moment. The opportunity had come for which she\nlonged. She ran downstairs into the large, old-fashioned hall, which was\noverheated as usual, by the hot-air pipes, for the huge chimney-place\nwas too much of a curiosity ever to be used. Here, she felt sure, was\nthe starting-point of her adventure.\n\nLuckily no one was about. It was windy when she looked up the great\nchimney, so she took her long, fair hair, and made it into a loose plait\nin order to keep it from blowing about her face. Then she prepared to\nstart and secure the first footing.\n\nEva had never been up a chimney before, and when she began climbing she\nwas quite surprised to find how nice and clean it was, with steps, and\nall white tiles. She toiled up, and up, and could see blue sky and\nfleeting white clouds above. After a time she stopped to rest in a\nlittle recess in the chimney side. When she started climbing again, the\nblue sky faded away, twilight came on, and in this very, very long\nchimney the light became quite dim.\n\nVery soon, however, she felt with a little thrill of pleasure the keen\nair all around her head and shoulders, and she knew she had come to the\ntop. Fortunately there was a ladder--already placed for Father\nChristmas to mount--and down that she went, looking below all the time\nso as not to make a false step. It was a very, very long ladder indeed,\nand Eva began to think she would have to go on stepping down for ever,\nwhen at last she found herself on the ground again--in a country field\nwith hoar frost stiffening the blades of grass, across which she ran\nstraight ahead as hard as ever she could go.\n\n\nSTARLIGHT\n\nOnce only did she halt by the side of a lane to consider what she should\ndo if she couldn't find her destination after all. Two robins alighted\nin front of her, hopped about, and fluttered forward; they were so\npersistent that they interested her and she followed them. They flew\nalong a side path, and Eva ran after them--ran till she arrived eager\nand breathless at a wooden bridge, and found that she was in a park;\nthat above her was the dark vault of heaven decked out in all its\ndiamonds; that the bridge led across a moat; and that in front of her\nwas a splendid old country mansion brilliantly lighted up, where the\nrobins alighted on a window-sill, and paying no further attention to\nher, busied themselves with crumbs.\n\n[Illustration: _It was a very, very long ladder_]\n\nThen Eva advanced, almost in spite of herself, went up the front steps,\nand standing on tiptoe, lifted the knocker and let it fall. The knocker\nresounded for a while musically, like a peal of bells; when they ceased,\nthe door opened, and a very ancient man confronted her. He was tall and\nthin and bent, and was dressed in draperies, with bare legs, and he had\na funny little curl in the middle of his bald forehead.\n\n\"Is Father Christmas at home, please?\" faltered Eva.\n\n\"Yes, little Madam,\" came the reply. \"Do you want to see him? Really?\nBut you will be astonished--I warn you. Aren't you frightened?\"\n\n\"Not a bit,\" replied Eva.\n\n\"Brave little girl!\" said the very ancient man. \"Come in!\" and he\nushered her into an old oak-panelled room. It had a delicious sense of\ncomfort, and a delight about it which, for the moment, she didn't try to\ndefine. Her attention was attracted by catching sight of what she\nthought was her own reflection in the large mirror against the wall--it\nwas a little girl who came in at the same time, and was of exactly her\nown height. As she looked closer she saw that the other child was uglier\nthan herself, unkind in expression, slovenly in appearance, and tried to\nhide herself, rather, in the dark corner where she remained. And Eva,\nin the novel surroundings, soon forgot all about her.\n\nAt the far end was a great log fire, and near it a huge arm-chair, in\nwhich sat a stout, healthy, red-faced old gentleman warmly wrapped in a\ncrimson dressing-gown; he was leaning back, thinking or dozing. Eva\nadvanced with soft steps. She was full of eagerness and excitement, for\nshe recognised the white-bearded, handsome old face at once from the\nmany coloured portraits she had seen. It was Father Christmas himself!\nEva never knew what impelled her to do it, but when she got close to him\nshe simply threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.\n\n\"Bless my soul!\" exclaimed Father Christmas, starting; and catching her\nup, he seated her on his knee. He recognised her at once. \"How you've\ngrown since last year, Eva!\" and he looked at her with beaming eyes. \"I\nsuppose you know you're trespassing? and the penalty is forty crackers\nor a kiss!\" And he chuckled and laughed so merrily that she felt quite\ncomfortable, finding trespassing a very pleasant occupation, and wasn't\na bit alarmed at the penalty.\n\n\"And what brings me this honour?\" he continued.\n\n\"Good evening, Father Christmas,\" spoke up Eva quite boldly. \"I'm afraid\nI disturbed you.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"_I suppose you know you're trespassing?_\"]\n\n\"Oh yes, you've disturbed me all right,\" he replied briskly, \"but I was\nonly resting a little after my labours before going on my rounds\nto-night.\"\n\n\"What labours?\"\n\n\"Toys. Toys and sweets. I've been making toys and things all the year\nthrough, and have only just got them finished in time. I love making\ncrackers, too; I spend all my evenings writing mottoes for them.\"\n\n\"I found your invitation, Mr. Christmas.\"\n\n\"Bless me! did you now? Ah!\" He stroked his beard thoughtfully for a\nmoment and remained silent. Eva looked about her in amazement.\n\n\"Those are all secrets!\" he observed after a time. Father Christmas\nincluded with a sweep of the arm the toys which were everywhere\nabout--hanging from the ceiling, lying about on the tables and sofas,\nstanding as ornaments on the mantelpiece, filling the shelves of the\nbookcases, peeping from behind the glass cabinets--toys wherever one\nlooked.\n\nHe arose, and taking her by the hand, led her round to enjoy the pretty\nsight; and paying no attention whatever to the sullen little girl in the\ncorner, he asked Eva if she would like to see around his domain. \"Oh\nyes, yes,\" she cried. She quite appreciated the special honour that was\nbeing done her.\n\n\"They'll be coming in here soon to pack,\" he added. \"I'm going to leave\nall these secrets myself at their destinations.\"\n\nThere was a tremendous bustle going on at the rear of the premises,\nwhere a whole army of packers, carriers, postmen, and porters were\nhurrying about letting down toys from the loft, packing them, labelling\nthem to places far and wide; loading them on huge vans which came\nrumbling in and out of the courtyard with cracking of whips, and parting\nshouts of \"Good luck!\"\n\nSuperintending the arrangements, walking to and fro, was the very\nancient man. He was so alert, and always on the spot where wanted, yet\nEva was thinking his age must at least be two hundred, when Father\nChristmas said kindly: \"My dear, this is my father--he is known as\nFather Time, and you have known him without having really met him face\nto face before.\"\n\n\"I didn't recognise him, and I didn't know he was your father, sir,\" she\nwhispered.\n\n\"Why, yes. Don't you know that my full name is Christmas Time?\"\n\n\"Of course it is,\" she exclaimed with a laugh.\n\nThe next visit was through a covered way to the printing works--where\nthe mottoes and \"directions\" for toys and Father Christmas's visiting\ncards were printed. These cards were all different in design, and each\nwas a beautiful picture stamped with his name, and his own motto, \"Peace\nand Goodwill.\"\n\nBehind was the sweet factory, with its tempting packets and muslin\nstockings of all sizes full of sugar-plums. But, as Father Time\nappeared, Father Christmas whispered that he feared they must not\nlinger, and led the way up a spiral staircase in order to enable Eva to\nhave a peep into the toy-loft, where men were letting the toys down into\nthe busy yard below. How she would have loved to stay longer in each\ndelightful place, but without a murmur she followed her guide below and\nback to the oak-panelled room. It looked so bare and different without\nthe toys--much like any ordinary room.\n\n\"And now, my dear,\" he said, \"you must excuse me for a short time, as I\nmust go upstairs and get ready.\"\n\n\"Please, ought I to be going?\" she asked politely.\n\n\"No, no. Not yet.\" And he went away, up the grand staircase, to his\nbedroom. There he took from the drawer his scarlet fur-lined cloak and\nhood with wide swansdown trimming, which had been put away in lavender,\nchose his thickest top-boots, and humming a song, proceeded to array\nhimself for the long, cold journey in store for him that night.\n\nMeanwhile, the moment he left his little visitor downstairs, the\nstrange-looking child approached her.\n\n\"What's your name?\" asked Eva pleasantly.\n\n\"Eva,\" came the surly reply.\n\n\"Why, that's my name!\"\n\n\"Of course. I know you, I know you through and through--good and\nbad--and I wish I didn't.\"\n\n\"You're a horrid story-teller,\" said Eva angrily.\n\n\"Supposing I am! It's easier to tell stories than to tell the truth.\nSaves a lot of trouble. Besides, it's nice. You know that as well as I\ndo.\"\n\nEva would have liked to deny it, only she felt too scornful. \"_Saves_\ntrouble?\" she said to herself. \"_Makes_ trouble.\" But she flushed as she\nremembered she had once thought that too, but only for a moment; and she\nwas ashamed of it now. She was ruffled and uncomfortable at the\nproximity of this horrid girl, who now said slyly: \"Look over there in\nthat cupboard, there's a doll that has been forgotten. I want it, and\nI'm going to take it and hide it under my pinafore.\"\n\n\"You mayn't--you mustn't!\" cried Eva. \"It would be stealing.\"\n\n\"I don't care. Father Christmas won't know.\"\n\n\"Yes, he will. I shall tell him!\"\n\n\"Then I'll say it was given to me.\"\n\n\"You horrid girl! You dreadful story-teller!\"\n\n\"Don't be silly. What does it matter telling stories and stealing, so\nlong as you're not found out?\"\n\n\"It's just as bad if you're not found out. But you are _bound_ to be\nfound out,\" cried Eva, in horror and disgust as she saw her approach the\ncoveted treasure. \"I tell you, wicked people are always found out; they\nnever escape unpunished.\"\n\n\"I want it, and I'm going to have it.\"\n\n\"You mustn't. Come away--you shan't!\" shouted Eva, running after her;\nand she seized her by both wrists. \"Come away! Oh, do come away!\"\n\n\"You fool! leave me alone. Get away!\" and with a scoffing laugh the girl\nshook herself free, sprang on a sofa, opened the cupboard, and stretched\nout her hand.\n\nWithout a word Eva threw herself upon her, slammed-to the glass door,\nand in the struggle they fell together on the floor. There was a crash\nof broken glass, and through the noise Eva heard the voice of her\nopponent saying faintly: \"Let me go! You have won!\"\n\nWhen she got up, carefully shaking the bits of glass from her frock, and\nlooked round, the horrid little girl had disappeared. The next moment\nher host stood in the doorway with a curious smile on his face.\n\n\"I'm going now,\" he said; \"will you come?\"\n\n\"Oh, please, Father Christmas,\" exclaimed Eva ruefully, as she looked at\nthe glass on the floor, \"do wait! I want to explain something--I----\"\n\n\"I can't keep my father waiting,\" he answered gently. She followed him\nto the front door. There in the frosty night a beautiful sledge was in\nwaiting, hung with baskets and sacks overflowing with toys and sweets.\nFather Christmas took his seat and beckoned to Eva. To her joy he lifted\nher on to his lap and wrapped his great coat about her. Father Time, who\nwas on the box, shook the reins, and the two reindeer, impatient to be\noff, sped rapidly away amid the jangling of bells, carrying the\ntravellers over the bridge, through the park, past holly and fir trees\nall powdered with glistening frost, out over the country into the\nbright, crisp night.\n\n\nMOONLIGHT\n\nThere was Eva with Father Christmas, all snug amongst his soft furs, on\nhis rounds. \"Why do you take some toys yourself,\" she asked, \"and send\nothers away in the great carts?\"\n\n\"Those in the carts are for my export and wholesale trade--shops, and so\non; these _I_ take are for my special favourites. You're on my list, my\ndear, you know.\" Eva's heart was full of tenderness and pride, but tears\nwere in her eyes as she said, peering appealingly into his kind face--\n\n\"May I whisper something?\"\n\nHe bent his head--and she whispered.\n\n\"Bless my soul!\" was all Father Christmas replied, but he looked very\npleased and jolly.\n\n\"And I should like to pay for it,\" continued Eva; \"I've got five\nshillings all but three farthings.\"\n\n\"Never mind about that, my dear.\"\n\n\"But I'm sure I ought,\" she replied dubiously. \"Dear Father Christmas,\nyou are always doing kindnesses; could you tell me how to do something\nlike giving a cot to a hospital, or a free library, or something? That's\nwhat I really came to ask you about, only I forgot it until now. I'm so\noften in trouble, and I've so often tried to do some good, but it\ndoesn't come off somehow,\" and she sighed.\n\n\"What you ask me is a secret,\" he answered. \"Some people are quick to\nfind it out for themselves. Some people never find it out. But I will\ntell it to you, dear, because I know that by to-morrow you will be on\nthe high road to guessing it. It is this: You need not give things. You\nneedn't try to be good. Try only not to be troublesome. If you are\nsweet, and gentle, and kind, you give happiness--not only do you give\nit, but you can then only find happiness yourself.\" Somehow, it didn't\nsound a bit like a sermon; it was more like being told the delightfully\neasy answer to a difficult sum. Eva nestled closer to her dear old\nfriend as she listened--it was all so peaceful, reassuring, and\nsoothing.\n\n[Illustration: _The two reindeer ... sped rapidly away_]\n\nThe moon was shining down on the sledge and its strange occupants, and\nEva was just going to ask if he could tell her who the other little girl\nwas, and all about her, when she felt her arms were being disengaged\nfrom where they clung about him, and she found herself gently deposited\non firm ground, and alone.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Honourable Dot barked with delight because it was Christmas Eve, and\nit was going with its little mistress to dine downstairs; and very\njoyful and succulent the event proved to be. Not long after, when it was\nfast asleep in its basket, Eva was sitting up in bed waiting anxiously\nto receive the visit of her recent host. Father Christmas had done her\nso much good, and she wanted to tell him so, as she had had no\nopportunity of doing before.\n\nShe was dropping asleep in that attitude, when she heard a slight noise.\nImmediately she started up, and clutching tightly at a rapidly\nretreating figure, she laughed aloud to find she had succeeded in\ncatching Father Christmas, who, mildly yielding to her entreaties, sat\ndown by her side.\n\n\"I have wakened you,\" he said regretfully.\n\n\"Oh no, I was waiting for you.\" And she told him about the happy time\nshe had spent with him, and thanked him nicely. \"What a dreadful little\ngirl that other Eva was!\" she concluded. \"Who was she?\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Father Christmas very quickly, \"she is what you might be were\nyou to give way to bad feelings. I wish you a Merry Christmas and a\nHappy New Year, my dear!\" and without explaining further he kissed her\nand rapidly withdrew on his business.\n\n\nDAYLIGHT\n\nOutside the uncurtained window the sun was shining. Snow had been\nfalling softly, and was piled high on the sill. And over the hushed\nlandscape from the far distance the Christmas bells were ringing. Eva\njoyfully hugged a large doll, which she had found asleep on her pillow.\n\nIt was only later, when she thought over past events in detail, that it\nappeared to her, though she had not paid attention to it at the time,\nthat Father Christmas seemed ill at ease when he was _her_\nvisitor--perhaps it was because he was in a hurry. Somehow he was\ndifferent from the stout, merry-faced old gentleman she had been to see;\nhe had strangely shrunk to nearly as thin as her own father, and as\npale, comparatively, which she thought very odd.\n\nAnd when she looked up into that wonderful and mysterious old chimney\nagain, she saw that it was all dark and black, and as uninviting as any\nordinary dirty old chimney; so that it was quite hopeless for her ever\nto venture up it again to find old Father Christmas \"At Home.\"\n\n\n\n\nA BIRTHDAY STORY\n\n\nIf it had not been Maisie's birthday this story could never have been\nwritten. But the day had come for her to be five years old, and, like\nevery child of that age, she could no more help having a fifth birthday\nthan she could imagine having it without a party. At present she was\nunconscious of all the delights in store, because it was only just dawn,\nand her curls were still tumbled about her flushed face on the pillow,\nand her eyes were still fast closed in sleep.\n\nBut in a small bed quite close to hers there was a little girl, who was\nvery wide awake indeed, as she leant over with neck outstretched, gazing\neagerly at all the beautiful things so temptingly displayed on a table\nat the foot of Maisie's cot--presents from every one in the house:\nHilda's box of beads bought with her own money; a long-promised\nstory-book resplendent in bright blue and brilliant in gold; some new\nfurniture for the doll's house; and a something that glittered\nstrangely--Hilda nearly toppled over in her curiosity to see it. She\nfound it to be a big red cracker with a funny coloured portrait of a\nsmirking crocodile stuck on the outside. \"What lovely things!\" she\nthought, \"and all for Maisie!\"\n\nIn two months' time Hilda was going to celebrate _her_ birthday and be\neight years old, and have a fuss made over _her_. But two whole months\nseemed such a long way off--such a very long time to wait! Into her dark\neyes there came a strange look of envy and longing, and her handsome\nface with the resolute expression contrasted strangely with her sister's\nas she turned anxiously towards the fair little sleeper.\n\nHolding her breath, Hilda crept slowly down on to the floor, stealthily\napproached the table, and seized the beautiful cracker. \"Surely that\nwould not be missed,\" she reflected. Just then Maisie stirred uneasily,\nwhich brought a flush of shame to the elder girl's cheeks; but hearing\nnothing further, Hilda jumped into bed and pushed the cracker under her\nown pillow. The crackling of the paper woke Maisie, who sat up, and in\nthe middle of a big yawn espied the table, and remembered the great\nevent. \"Oh, Hilda,\" she exclaimed, \"just look!\" She was too excited as\nshe handled her treasures to notice that Hilda never stirred, that she\nonly answered shortly, \"Yes, I know,\" and didn't even volunteer to say\nwhom the beads came from.\n\nDuring the whole morning Maisie's excitement continued; she hopped about\neverywhere, watching the arrangements for the afternoon party, and\nchattering about who were coming; so much so, that do what she would,\nHilda could obtain no opportunity of being alone so that she might\nsatisfy her burning curiosity as to what was inside the cracker. She had\ndropped it behind the toy-box in the nursery, and there it lay, whilst\nall the time Maisie could not understand what made her sister so\nrestless and impatient.\n\nImmediately after lunch, however, Hilda was able to satisfy her longing\nat last. She picked up the cracker and hurriedly opened it. What first\ncame to light was a big sweet wrapped in a printed motto: \"Always do\nwhat is right and you will be happy.\" She read it with a pang of mental\nshame, which was quickly followed by one of physical discomfort, for she\nhad popped the sweet into her mouth and now would as quickly have popped\nit out again, only it was too late, as she had already swallowed the\nhorrid thing, which was filled with a liquid that tasted of bad scent.\nMaking a wry face, she rolled up the offending motto into a tiny ball\nand threw it into the empty grate. Still, it was soothing to find in the\ncracker a neatly rolled up packet of pink and green paper, which\nevidently formed something amusing--a bonnet, a cap, or perhaps an\napron. At the same time she drew forth the \"cracking thing,\" which she\nloved to pull and hear it go \"crack.\" But she always did so at arm's\nlength with her head turned away, and she was too frightened to pull it\nall by herself.\n\nTheir nurse's voice was heard calling Maisie to come up and be dressed.\nHilda, with a guilty, conscience-stricken look, had barely time to throw\nthe useless \"cracking thing\" out of the open window, and to hide the\nrest of the cracker in the first thing at hand (which happened to be the\ndoll's house), when they both entered laughing and carried her off too,\nto be curled and be-ribboned for the party.\n\n\"I've seen my birthday cake, Hilda,\" cried Maisie, capering about. \"It's\nbooful!\" But Hilda still tasted that nauseous liqueur from the sweet,\nand couldn't enter into any pleasing ideas of cake.\n\nReady first, she ran into the nursery, curious as ever as to the pink\nand green paper bundle, took it out, unfolded it, and found that it\nwould have formed a crown--only it didn't join together; she had torn it\nin her hurry. She stamped her foot with vexation, and was wondering if\nshe could stick the two ends together when that tiresome Maisie came\nrunning in from the next room with one of her new bronze shoes on to\nshow how beautiful it looked. Quick as lightning Hilda had to hide her\nsecret again.\n\n\"What are you doing with the doll's house? Look at my new shoe!\"\nexclaimed Maisie all in a breath.\n\nAnd Hilda made a great fuss over the new shoe, and felt horridly out of\ntemper.\n\nPunctually on the stroke of three, the first of the birthday party began\nto arrive--two little girl cousins, who at once begged to be allowed to\nsee if there was anything new in the doll's house. Hilda's heart sank at\nthese words, and she tried to draw their attention away, but to no\navail, for Maisie, moving towards it, said they must see the new\ntreasure there. With difficulty and something like a scuffle Hilda,\ngrown desperate, prevented her from opening it, and managed to do so\nherself, quickly stuffing the bunch of paper into her pocket without\nbeing noticed. Much admiration was bestowed on the new addition--a\nlittle motor car which had been conveniently placed in the kitchen of\nthe doll's house ready to take out for an airing the little china lady\nand gentleman who sat so rigidly and smiled so vacantly in the storey\nabove.\n\nMeanwhile, Hilda was inwardly owning to a feeling akin to dislike for\nthe very thought of that cracker, for the paper was bulging out her\npocket, flatten it as she would. She was not happy, for never before had\nshe done anything underhand. In fact she always tried to be an example\nfor her young sister, and she already regretted having given way to the\nmomentary impulse of envy. However, there was no time now for thoughts\nor remorse, and when she reached the drawing-room she forgot all about\nher trouble in helping to receive the guests.\n\nEight little girls were grouped in one corner of the room whispering,\nwith eyes busily engaged staring at one another's sashes; whilst eight\nlittle boys had flocked together and were looking sheepishly from out of\nan opposite corner. One boy, however--who had been gazing long at\nHilda--with heroic resolution detached himself from his kind, and\nentered the rival camp, where he was welcomed with pleasure and\ninterest. He was a young Highlander, with sandy hair and many freckles,\nbut his attraction was great, for he wore his native costume. The\njewelled hilt of a dagger showed above one plaid stocking, and on his\nshoulder he wore a fascinating brooch with a large brown stone, which\nwas the envy and admiration of all the little ladies present.\n\nSuddenly the guests were all swooped upon by a big lady, Maisie's\nmother, mixed up, and disentangled into couples; a piano was set going,\nand they danced, hopped, and twirled about, wondering if they liked it;\nthe girls thought they did, and the boys were sure they didn't--all\nexcept the Scotch boy, who had constituted himself Hilda's devoted\npartner, and was enjoying it immensely. The polka finished, these two\nsat chatting merrily at the window, when all at once Hilda became\nsilent. She happened to catch sight of something sticking out of the ivy\non the sill. It was the \"cracking thing\" which she had thrown from the\nwindow above. Her partner was surprised to see her look as though she\nwere going to cry. She didn't dare do that.\n\nJust then tea was announced. Weighty recollection of warnings from\nhome-counsellors came to the minds of the children, which warnings,\nhowever, conveniently faded away at sight of the good things set forth\nso temptingly in the dining-room: custards, jellies, and all those\nconcoctions beloved of the youthful interior. But the chief interest\ncentred in Maisie's gorgeous cake, which had her name and age flowingly\nwritten in coloured sugar, surrounded by the most realistic and sweetest\nof red roses imaginable, nestling in the coolest-looking golden leaves.\n\nHilda sat by the side of her Scotch cavalier, who had taken her in, and\nwho was much concerned when he found that she had no appetite, but less\ndistressed when he found that that fact did not affect his.\n\nOnce during the meal, Hilda heard their mother ask Maisie, as she helped\nher cut the birthday cake, what was in her cracker, and Maisie replied,\nas she looked up from her struggles, \"What cracker?\" but then, in her\nanxiety to know why Hilda refused to taste any of her cake till the\nmorrow, she did not pursue the subject.\n\nAfter tea more excitement, for there was Mr. Punch and his company, who\nwere in excellent form.\n\n\"Oi, Oi, Oi!\" repeated that gentleman for the dozenth time, as he bobbed\nabout aimlessly, in his anxiety to hit the clown and take the patient\nToby between his jointless arms.\n\nLater on, the eyelids of the party children began to grow heavy, though\nthe eyes remained unnaturally bright; and tempers became less even and\nmore natural. And so, like everything else, the birthday party came to\nan end, and \"Good-byes\" were said with regret. That night cots and beds\nwere not despised, nor did they prove unwelcome for once, for little\ntired heads were rested gratefully on cool pillows. Maisie was an\nexception; she tossed about on hers, too happy and excited to get to\nsleep, whilst Hilda, worn out, lay on her back with her mouth wide open,\nbreathing heavily, and dreaming.\n\nHilda dreamt that she was alone in a boat on a ruffled lake. On a white\nflag in the prow was a motto printed large, but upside down. She dreamt\nthat all around the frail craft, which rocked on the stormy waters, were\ngrinning crocodiles wearing broken crowns made of pink coral and green\nfluttering paper. She crouched low and tried to hide, for she knew that\nif the horrid creatures found her out she was lost for ever. Land was\nquite close, but she didn't know how to get there, because her frock\nwas made of red crackling stuff, which glistened and made a noise\nwhenever she moved.\n\nShe felt sick with fright, and sobbed and moaned at her terrible plight,\nand sobbing, she woke to find that it was quite dark, that the moon was\nshining on Maisie smiling in her sleep, and that she herself had been\ndreaming.\n\nAt breakfast next morning, Maisie and their mother were already seated\nwhen Hilda silently took her place next her chattering little sister;\nbut it seemed to her that their mother looked unusually grave. When\nHilda lifted the cover off her bread and milk bowl, Maisie suddenly\nlooked in it and exclaimed: \"Oh, how pretty.\" But Hilda turned very red,\nand she hung her head ashamed. For in the bowl there was no bread and\nmilk--nothing but a crumpled red glazed paper with a hateful picture of\na smiling crocodile, something pink and green, a tiny paper ball of\nprinted paper, and a stiff thing sticking up--easily guessed at, but now\nblurred and indistinct to Hilda's tearful view.\n\n\"Oh, Maisie,\" she sobbed, \"it was your crack--cracker. I--I took it from\nyour table. Do forgive me--I've been so--so very miserable.\"\n\nAnd their mother, rising gently and saying nothing, quickly took the\nproofs of wrong-doing away, whilst Hilda felt Maisie's arm creep round\nher neck and Maisie's kisses on her wet cheek....\n\nAnd in her repentance her fault was forgiven.\n\nTwo months later, Hilda found amongst the presents on her birthday table\na lovely cracker made of silver paper with a little heart of real gold\nattached with a blue ribbon on the outside. And then Hilda ran and\nwhispered eagerly in her mother's ear, who looked very pleased and\nkissed her. And Maisie was surprised and happy too, for Hilda put in her\nhand the lovely cracker with its little heart of gold for her very own\nto keep.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE STARRY\n\n\n\"I should like to go shooting, and see what the earth is like,\" sighed a\nyoung star. But the Evening Star knew that meant many dangers, for down\nthere life was not so happy or serene as up in their lofty sphere. And\nshe knew, too, that he would go his own way as youth always does; and\nshe felt sorry, for she did not like to part with this bright little\nstar. And so he went. That fine crisp night the tiny star was seen to\nshoot right down to earth--and the light of his presence was no longer\nthere.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA hard frost was on the ground. The shops were shut, for it was Boxing\nDay. Those who were not on enjoyment bent were snugly quartered by their\nown fireside, with the firm conviction that nothing would tempt them\naway. Some, however, had business to attend to in spite of its being a\nholiday, and old Joshua was one of these. He was known as \"old\" Joshua\nbecause his hair had turned prematurely white--as white as the rime\nwhich had gathered on his shabby hat as he hurried along the murky,\ndimly lighted street which led to the great theatre. The wind that\nentered so unceremoniously through his thin coat was biting cold--the\nviolin he carried was more carefully muffled up than he.\n\n\"One, two, three,\" he counted, as a neighbouring clock began chiming;\n\"four, five, six!\"\n\nHe quickened his pace. He had to be in his place in the orchestra in\nextra good time, as it was the first night of the new pantomime. And\nbefore that, he had some one coming to meet him at the back entrance.\n\n\"I shall be there all in good time,\" he muttered. \"By Jupiter!\" he\nexclaimed, as he tripped and nearly fell over something that was lying\nstraight in his path. Only when he stooped down did he discover that on\nthe pavement lay a small child, all cold to the touch, with fair curls\ndishevelled, and eyes wide open that seemed to see nothing.\n\nOld Joshua's heart filled with pity and indignation. \"What a shame,\" he\nmuttered, \"to abandon such a treasure as this! And no one about who can\nhelp me.\" He looked anxiously around--no one was in sight; so he\nhurriedly went in search of a policeman. When he had succeeded in\nfinding one, and the two reached the spot together, a crowd had\ncollected and was gazing wonderingly at the tiny, prostrate form.\n\n\"Stand back there!\" commanded the man of law.\n\nThe clock chimed the quarter-hour. Old Joshua felt the cold no more--he\nwas in a nervous heat at the delay; nevertheless, he waited till a cab\nwas hailed. Then the policeman tenderly lifted the helpless little\ncreature into it, and the driver wrapped his rug around it. \"To the\n'orspital!\" directed the policeman, stepping inside, and the vehicle was\ndriven smartly away. The crowd dispersed, and with it old Joshua, as\nquickly as he could hurry through the throng.\n\nAt the stage door he found his little Stella awaiting him with sparkling\neyes, in anticipation of her annual treat.\n\n\"Daddy, you're late,\" she said, holding up a finger in mock gravity;\nthen she clapped her hands with delight at his arrival.\n\nOld Joshua would not distress her with the cause of his delay, so he\nonly stooped and kissed her. \"Give me your hand, old lady,\" he said,\n\"and come along quickly. Through this door--that's right. Up you go.\nDon't step on my poor toes or push against me when we turn the corner\nmore than you can help, or old Daddy Joshua and his fiddle might be a\nlittle out of tune!\" And, laughing as they went, they climbed right up\nto the top back row of the vast empty theatre. There a smiling\nattendant welcomed her as quite an old little friend, and when he had\nseen his daughter raised up on a seat by means of a big hassock, old\nJoshua, with a nod of thanks, hastened below to join his comrades of the\norchestra, and help create the squeaky din which they called \"tuning\nup.\"\n\nAt last the lights were turned up. An eager troop of pleasure-seekers\ntumbled into the gallery in a rush, and while Stella was looking around\nher every available seat was quickly occupied. The other parts of the\nhouse were filling rapidly in more dignified style, and soon every place\nwas tenanted in honour of the great Christmas pantomime. The large\norchestra struck up, and when the overture was over the gorgeously\npainted curtain slowly rose.\n\nStella, perched up aloft, forgot where she was, and everything else in\nthe world went straight out of her head as she gazed with rapture at the\nlovely scene that was peopled with fairies, and goblins, and wonderful\nbeings, disporting themselves in a land that was all glitter and gold.\nAnd so the hours flew by, in a wonder of loveliness, fairy story, and\nfun.\n\n\"'Ave a bit o' orange, dearie?\" asked the stout woman who was sitting\nnext to her. But Stella was too engrossed to think about oranges or\nneighbours, nor even did she feel the light nudge that followed. The\nwoman merely turned to her husband, smiled, and held her peace; while\nStella threw back her head and shook with laughter, as the Clown tickled\nPantaloon with a poker that looked extremely red hot. She wasn't a bit\ntired, and was quite surprised to hear \"God Save the King,\" and to find\nthe whole beautiful show was already over, like a dream. It had seemed\nto her as though it must go on for ever.\n\nFlushed and excited, and a good deal jostled by the moving crowd, she\nmade her way to the staircase in order to meet the motherly attendant on\nthe next landing, who had promised to take her to her father at the\nstage door. Stella was walking down carefully step by step, when two\nyoung men came roughly tearing past her. A sudden push threw her off her\nbalance. She knew she screamed because she heard it. Then she knew and\nheard nothing more.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nGreat fun was going forward in the biggest ward in the Children's\nHospital. Father Christmas had suddenly appeared amidst much cheering\nand clapping of hands. Not only were the little inmates, the nurses, and\nyoung doctors beaming with smiles, but Father Christmas himself felt the\nglow of jollity as he busily handed the toys he carried to his two\nattendant clowns. These nimble, funny fellows ran from him to the cots,\nbackwards and forwards, giving such beautiful toys, and saying such\nfunny things as they gave them, that every child was soon laughing and\nhappy, even those with a bandaged head or limb, or a pain inside or\noutside; and the unwonted excitement brought a flush to their pale\ncheeks and brightness to their eyes.\n\nBut none of the jollification was seen by the new little inmate of the\ncot that was in the far corner. A tiny blind boy lay there, with pretty,\nfair curls, and large dark eyes that he turned pathetically around. He\nhad not spoken at all. Earlier in the evening he had shivered much, and\ngroaned. Now he lay peacefully smiling, for his small hands held a\nmusical-box that Father Christmas himself had placed there, and set\nworking, and the tinkle-tinkle of a pretty tune seemed to please and\nsoothe him.\n\nWhen the Christmas visitors had gone away, and the dolls had been hushed\nto sleep by their new mothers, and the woolly animals lay hugged tightly\nin the arms of drowsy owners, a little girl in a swoon from an accident\nwas carried into the ward. The sprained ankle had been dressed; quietly\nand quickly she was put to bed, and consciousness soon returned.\n\n\"Where am I?\" said Stella, staring about her.\n\n\"You fell down, dear,\" replied Nurse Evelyn, \"and we are taking care of\nyou until you are fetched home. You'll soon be all right again. Does\nyour ankle hurt much? Don't move it.\"\n\n\"It feels funny,\" replied Stella, \"but doesn't hurt now it is\nstill--thank you very much,\" she added, staring about her in amazement\nat the strange faces, the holly in the strange surroundings, at the\nnurses in their pretty costumes with their white caps and aprons, and at\nthe sleeping children clutching their toys. In the cot next to hers,\nhowever, the little fair-haired boy looked awake. His eyes in their\naimless wandering were now fixed on the high window through which the\nstars were twinkling at him, and the Evening Star looked fixedly down\nupon him. His hands lay listlessly on the polished wooden box. The music\nhad changed, and in his ear it sang of \"Angels ever bright and fair.\"\n\nStella, who was watching him with so much interest, asked who he was.\n\n\"He is a little foundling,\" said Nurse Evelyn. \"He was abandoned in the\ncold streets.\"\n\nStella turned her head on the pillow towards him again, and asked\ntimidly--\n\n\"Are you better?\"\n\n\"Talk to him to-morrow, dear,\" advised Nurse Evelyn.\n\nAs she gazed at him Stella thought she had never seen so beautiful a\nchild. She stretched out her arm and took his tiny palm in hers; then he\nturned his face towards her and smiled, contentedly and trustingly\nleaving his hand in hers. And thus with love and pity in her heart she\nfell fast asleep.\n\nAnd in the night she saw a wonderful thing--a moonbeam that seemed to\ncome down into the room--the small hand in hers unloosed itself, and the\nboy arose looking gloriously beautiful; his eyes were shining, and he\ncould see the bright light, and he began climbing up the beam, so easily\nthat it looked like gliding, so happily now that he could see his way\nand whither it was leading him.\n\nThe next morning Stella's first thought was of the lovely vision, and of\nher little companion. She turned over and looked with surprise. The cot\nin the corner was empty--so very empty, and tidy with its smoothed fresh\nsheets.\n\n\"Oh, where's he gone?\" she exclaimed.\n\nNurse hurried to her side. \"Who, dear?\"\n\n\"There--from the empty cot.\"\n\nThe Nurse looked sweet and grave. \"He has gone where he came from,\ndear.\"\n\n\"And where did he come from?\" asked Stella, with a curious sense of\nloneliness.\n\n\"Where all children come from.\"\n\nOf course, Stella knew that all children are Heaven-born, and come from\nthe stars. Why, her own name meant a star. And, of course, she also knew\nthat every one who was good some day went back again to Heaven.\n\n\"Oh,\" she cried, in a hushed voice, \"has he gone back there?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear,\" replied Nurse Evelyn gently. \"Now, don't think of him any\nmore. Here's a pretty book with pictures.\"\n\nBut Stella did think of him, a great deal more. The little golden-haired\nboy occupied her thoughts more than any one ever knew. And that night,\nand many other nights, when she looked upwards at the vast sky, so\nmysterious and serene with its millions of stars, she would wonder and\nponder. And there was always one particular little star that she loved\nbest, and when she looked upon it a sweetness would steal into her\nheart, and she would think of the gentle boy with the angel face, who\nhad gone back to Heaven--for she felt quite sure that he was there\namongst them, and that he could see her, and that, perhaps, he loved\nher.\n\nAnd all to herself she called him Little Starry--and she remembered him\nalways.\n\n\n\n\nCEDRIC'S UNACCOUNTABLE ADVENTURE\n\nPART I\n\n\nCedric was flying his kite in a flowery meadow close to his home in\nCornwall. It was a favourite spot of his, for he was a boy who loved\nbeautiful scenery, and from there he could get a glimpse of Land's End,\nwith its great rocks around which the waves frothed and gambolled,\nbroke, and gurgled away.\n\nThe day was grey and windy, just the sort of day for flying a kite. This\nkite was of the old-fashioned sort, with a tail of his own making, and\nas it soared away higher and higher, with the tail wriggling its great\nlength like a happy eel on a holiday, his heart was full of pride and\ncontent.\n\nHe kept on unwinding and unwinding the large ball of string until he\nbegan to wonder if his kite would still be in view by the time he had\nunwound it all. The wind was increasing in strength, when, to his\nastonishment, and apparently for no reason at all, the pull on his arm\nsuddenly relaxed, and the kite all at once dropped quickly to earth,\ntail first. Cedric darted forward to where it lay, some distance ahead.\nWhen he reached it, he flung himself alongside to examine it carefully.\nHe could find no rent, no damage; nothing was wrong. There was nothing,\napparently, to account for such peculiar behaviour in his hitherto\nwell-conducted kite.\n\nAs he passed his hand over it where it lay, he felt underneath it,\nentangled in the tail, something hard. He could see it glistening\nthrough. He quickly drew it forth, and found in his hand--a golden key.\n\n\"Halloa! what's this?\" exclaimed Cedric, as he knelt down and turned his\ndiscovery over and over. \"A yellow key. However did it get there?\" was\nhis next thought. He continued to ask himself the riddle, but finding no\nanswer he gave it up, and carefully examined the key. There was no mark\non it--it wouldn't even whistle when he tried it. \"Some one must have\nlost it, I suppose,\" he went on, and concluded: \"Well, it's no use to\nme!\" and he threw it away. Seating himself on the grass, he soon became\nabsorbed in getting his kite all trim again, and had temporarily secured\nthe string to a bush, when his attention was attracted by the key, which\nlay and glistened as if it knew it was glistening.\n\nCedric didn't care to trouble with it, but instinctively he picked it\nup, and said--\n\n\"I wonder where this key belongs to?\"\n\nAt that moment his view of the Land's End became slowly obscured by a\nhuge iron door, the lock of which was outlined with gold. He tried the\nkey he held. _It fitted!_ A turn, the heavy door was unlocked, and he\nput the key in his pocket. He turned the handle, pushed the door open\njust enough to squeeze through, and it swung to behind him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere had been a great commotion in Fairyland. The gnomes--who formed\nthe Opposition Party--had turned disloyal and wanted a republic;\nwhereupon the King, hurt in his dignity, insisted upon abdicating. In\nfact, he was tired of power, and glad of the excuse to resign. In spite\nof the prayers and entreaties of those who desired him to remain in\noffice he returned to the Treasury the Golden Key, together with the\ncrown and other royal jewels, and, to the concern of every one who\nwasn't a gnome, went forth to play skittles--his sole interest and only\nhobby.\n\nOf all the regalia, the most precious object was the Golden Key, for\nwhoever held it was made King of Fairyland by virtue of its possession;\nand it was ordained that it could only be parted with at the monarch's\nfree will. It could be surrendered; it could not be withdrawn.\n\nSo the old King deposited it in the Treasury, leaving his people--the\nfaithful and unfaithful alike--to fight out the matter as best they\ncould. In so doing they fought their very best. The quarrel between the\ngnomes and the fairies waxed furious in their patriotic eagerness to get\ntheir own way. But while blows were exchanged and relations were\notherwise strained, and the Monarchists, generally speaking, were highly\nannoyed, and the Republicans were even more perturbed, the latter\nsuddenly lay low, and hatched an audacious plot. So daring was it that\nit made their grotesque and stunted little bodies tremble as they\nthought of it, and their gnarled feet shook in their shoes.\n\nThis plot involved nothing less than the theft of the Golden Key. The\nsymbol of royalty was to be taken to the mountain top and flung far away\noutside the boundaries of Fairydom, and a republic proclaimed and\nacclaimed. A monarchy could no longer be possible.\n\nMeanwhile the guileless fairies, recking nothing of this, and rejoicing\nin what they thought to be the discomfiture of their adversaries, chose\nthe popular Crown Princess for the succession, and began with much pomp\nand circumstance the ceremony of investing her with the Golden Key.\nThey had proceeded up to a certain point when, to their horror and\namazement, on opening the treasure chamber to bear the symbol in solemn\nprocession upon a velvet cushion, as the law demanded, they discovered\nthat _the Golden Key was gone_!\n\n[Illustration: _Lay low, and hatched an audacious plot_]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nCedric suddenly guessed that he possessed the key to Fairyland. For he\nfound himself in a sun-bathed valley with clouds of rainbow hues in the\nazure sky above. In the distance he beheld a rippling lake of golden\nwater, on the borders of which stood a palace made of gems gathered from\nthe circling mountains which stood as sentinels around the valley. Down\nthese mountains meandered little golden rills that fed the lake. Nothing\nstirred but gaily coloured birds, which fluttered amongst the blossoming\nfruit trees and the rich and dainty flowers.\n\nAll around the lake, as though from nowhere, sprang crowds of fairies,\ngnomes, pixies, and sprites; they were landing from the tiny\nflower-decked craft, forming processions, hurrying in and out of the\npalace--presenting to Cedric's astonished gaze a scene of wonderful\nanimation and pretty bustle. Great preparations were apparently\nproceeding.\n\nAfter a time they gathered together in waiting crowds, which stretched\na long distance on either side of the approach to the shimmering\nedifice, and the words came to him with curious distinctness--\n\n\"Hail! Cedric, King of Fairyland!\"\n\n\"K-K-King of Fairyland!\" stammered the boy in bewilderment. \"Am I King\nof Fairyland? You're only making fun--I've only been flying my kite: I\ncan't be a king.\"\n\n\"Of course your young Majesty has got the key?\" remarked a funny little\nold man at his elbow.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Cedric, starting at the suddenness of the answer to his\nquestion, but vastly surprised, and amused too, at the quaint way in\nwhich he was addressed.\n\n\"Very well, then. Of course we all know you must have found it, or you\ncouldn't be here. I'd far rather you had it than I; experience has\ntaught me that much. Good morning, young gentleman; may it bring you\nmore pleasure than it brought me,\" and with a chuckle the little old man\nbowed himself away.\n\nCedric had no time to think, for a gorgeous equipage stopped just in\nfront of him. The door flew open; the boy, guessing what was expected of\nhim, quickly stepped inside, and, wondering at this grandeur, the new\nKing of Fairyland was borne swiftly through the serried ranks of his\nbowing subjects to the doors of his magnificent palace. Soldiers\npresented arms, a national air was played on lutes and harps, and Cedric\npassed through the gates, followed by as many of the populace as had\ntickets of admission to witness the most wonderful coronation you never\nsaw.\n\n[Illustration: \"_Of course your young Majesty has got the key?_\"]\n\n\nPART II\n\nIn the throne-room, on a throne of diamonds, Cedric sat in royal robes,\nand on his head was a golden crown, which had been taken, as being about\nhis size, from the dome of the Crown Palace. Grouped near him were the\naristocracy of Fairyland--prominent among them the Crown Princess, and\nher great friend and neighbour, the Queen of Gossamerland, both young,\nboth beautiful, and both unmarried.\n\nWhen the ceremony was over, and the shout, \"Hail! Cedric, King of\nFairyland!\" echoed once more, the boy, prompted by the Lord High\nChamberlain, rose and bowed his delighted acknowledgments, while the\ncrowds outside cheered for all they were worth. He kept standing, in\norder to receive the general homage, with the quiet confidence of one\nwho had been used to that sort of thing every day of his life.\n\nLittle did he guess that the populace of Fairyland, who were acclaiming\nhim, down to the tiniest sprite, were far from pleased to have a mortal\non their throne--that the gnomes were plotting, _with_ the fairies this\ntime, to depose him, for the key had come back to their land, and was\nnever likely to be stolen again. They had all put their heads together\nhow to make Cedric part with it of his own free will, according to law,\nand they knew they had to accomplish their end by their wits, as no\nother means held good. It was their desire now to elect their ruler by\nputting the matter to the country to vote, and thus please both parties.\nThe gnomes, who had had time to consider it, were dumbfounded at their\nstupidity in having thrown the key into Mortal-land, and they regretted\nit when it was too late.\n\nA fair lady, wearing a tiny crown, stepped forward and curtsied low\nbefore her monarch. It was the Crown Princess. Cedric wanted to detain\nher; but it wasn't etiquette, and she smiled to herself as she swept\npast with her maids of honour. She was followed by her dark friend, who\nkissed Cedric's hand. Her face was more beautiful than any he had ever\nbeheld. In obedience to his wish that she should speak to him, the\nlittle Queen of Gossamerland smiled and said--\n\n\"Sire, I have often heard of mortals, but never saw one before. It is\nsaid that some of them never dream of coming to our country, that others\noften do, but they never come really, you know. Your Majesty is the\nvery first. Will you graciously tell me how it feels?\"\n\nCedric laughed, and coughed nervously, and replied that \"it felt very\npleasant and comfor'ble.\"\n\nShe turned her head as she withdrew, and whispered anxiously--\n\n\"_Do not part with the Golden Key_, as you value your throne.\"\n\nThe words, and still more the impressive and forceful manner, of the\ndazzling little Queen puzzled him. He determined, nevertheless, to\nfollow advice so fatefully given, but he couldn't help pondering over\nit; and his face was graver as he bowed to the lords and ladies and\nhigh-born gnomes who had the honour of introduction.\n\nEscorted by the whole of the brilliant company, King Cedric left his\npalace in order formally \"to do some good deed\"--which was a part of the\nancient ceremonial. He was to open a new institution for fairies who had\nlost their arts and crafts and livelihoods too. When they arrived at the\nbuilding it was announced that the key which was to have been presented\nto him was not forthcoming. Consternation, real or assumed--(_Cedric_\ndidn't believe in it)--followed on the strange declaration of those who\nwere responsible for the carelessness. Amid profuse apologies, the Lord\nHigh Chamberlain begged the King that he would use the Golden\nKey--which, being a master key, could of course take the place of any\nother.\n\nActing on the advice given him, and alive to the evident importance of\nretaining the key (which was also the key to his position), Cedric\npolitely and graciously refused: at which there was considerable\nsensation. Arguments and persuasion were in vain, but at last he yielded\nto the entreaties of those needy fairies who badly wanted their\ninstitution. Himself he inserted the key, which was found to fit, as was\nto be expected. But when he wanted to withdraw it, it had stuck, and was\nimmovable--the lock had been carefully arranged that it should be so.\nTriumph and amusement were on every face except his.\n\n\"I have been betrayed,\" muttered Cedric, and he wondered what on\nFairyland he should do next. There was silence--a breathless\ninterval--during which the boy never relaxed hold on his treasured\npossession.\n\n\"Cut away the lock!\" he commanded. At this order the people murmured\nloudly, but soon fell into silence; for they were bound by their\nconstitution to obey their monarch. In a few moments the Golden Key was\nagain safe in Cedric's pocket, and mistrust was in his heart, as it has\nbeen in that of nearly every king who ever reigned.\n\nThe coronation ceremony was over, and the company had dispersed, so\nCedric found himself at liberty to saunter forth. He hadn't proceeded\nmore than a few yards in the brilliant landscape when a Rabbit--renowned\nfor his white gloves--bounded up to him and humbly begged it might be\nhis Majesty's pleasure to receive some famous members of Animal\nFairyland who were anxious to render homage. Cedric replied royally with\na dignified nod, and followed the creature as it led the way to a\nclearing in a forest close by. Here, explained the Rabbit, the animals\nwere allowed full liberty to say what they pleased--but beyond the\nboundaries they were only able to make strange noises which their own\nfamilies alone could understand: it was thus that the secrets of\nFairyland were kept from the world outside.\n\nUpon a throne made from a cutting of the famous beanstalk grown for the\noriginal Jack King Cedric seated himself, and awaited events.\n\nHe hadn't long to wait, for a Fox trotted up and bade him welcome to\nAnimal Fairyland. Wonderfully tactful for his age, Cedric told the Fox\nthat he recognised him, having read about him in Grimm's tales, and\nremarked--\n\n\"You were so good, Mr. Fox, to the poor horse!\"\n\nAt which the Fox sniggered shyly and withdrew. This pleasing\nreminiscence gave unbounded satisfaction to the various animals that had\nquickly gathered around.\n\nCedric's inquiry of the Wolf as to his digestion after that little\nflirtation with Red Riding Hood's grandmother was also considered\nprodigiously appropriate, and was greeted with cordial appreciation. His\nquick recognition, too, of the Three Bears added greatly to his\npopularity, but he wasn't so happy in his remark to a stately Swan who\ncame up and bowed.\n\n\"You're glad to have got rid of those ducks, I s'pose?\" he observed.\n\n\"And pray, sire, where did you hear about that? It's a chapter of my\nearly history I hoped had never got about!\"\n\n\"Oh, I have read all about the Ugly Duckling!\" replied Cedric, persuaded\nthat the information would fill the Swan with pride.\n\n\"Why, you don't mean to say--! Do you--do you tell me that--\" screamed\nthe Swan furiously, almost choked with indignation, and it could not\nfinish its sentences. Then in a quieter, but still in an angry, voice,\nit continued: \"To think of it! Why, I plumed myself on its having been\nkept out of print! So that family scandal has got round after all!\" And\nin defiance of all etiquette, the swan turned tail and waddled off.\n\n\"The audience is over!\" cried Cedric indignantly.\n\nWhereupon the deputation hastily withdrew.\n\n\"Guide, sire?\" inquired a gnome, suddenly presenting himself and going\ndown on one knee. \"Guide to the fairy ring?\"\n\n\"Yes, please,\" and he followed him to where a number of peacocks stood\non guard with their tails magnificently spread.\n\n\"Have you twopence?\" asked the guide anxiously.\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" answered Cedric, fumbling in his pocket.\n\n\"If not, I'm afraid you can't be let in, sire.\" The gnome was looking\nafraid that the king might not fall, after all, into the little trap he\nwas preparing.\n\n\"Not let me in? Can't I order myself through?\"\n\n\"No 'paper' allowed! You can only be let in by paying the entrance fee.\"\n\n\"I never heard of a king paying twopence to go in anywhere,\" said\nCedric, drawing himself up. He was not unreasonable, he felt, but he was\na little hurt in his dignity as sovereign.\n\n\"I'm afraid your Majesty can't go against the Office of Works.\"\n\n\"S'pose I ordered the peacocks to be removed,\" said Cedric, growing hot\nat the undignified position of a monarch unable to produce the price of\na Bath bun; \"s'pose I ordered their necks to be wrung, or something?\"\n\n\"It would be deplorably irregular and excessively unconstitutional.\"\n\nCedric was taken at a disadvantage by the length of the words; but a\nlucky discovery relieved him.\n\n\"Here, I've got four ha'pennies. But I call it mean that I, of all\npeople, shouldn't be allowed in free.\"\n\n\"It's simply to show the person is well off, and to keep the place\nselect--it's the same for all. In the case of royalty the amount is\nreturned in cash at the end of the performance.\"\n\nCedric entered alone, and found the fairy ring far beyond anything he\ncould have dreamed of. Thousands of little fairies, wearing cunning\narrangements of petals from the fruit blossoms, had joined hands and\nwere dancing round joyously, raising tiny clouds of yellow dust, which\nenveloped them as with a golden mist. As he came in sight they burst\ninto song, and manoeuvring cleverly until he was in their midst, they\nshowed what they could do in grace of movement and harmony of sound,\ntill, quite enchanted, he felt he could remain there for ever.\n\n\"Go on! go on!\" he shouted, clapping his hands with delight, for the\nlittle crew had come to a standstill.\n\nA pixie detached himself, and kneeling, begged his Majesty to give him\nthe Golden Key.\n\n\"What for?\" asked Cedric, surprised.\n\n\"To wind up the proceedings,\" came the reply of the fairies, who had\neagerly drawn near.\n\n\"Can't,\" said Cedric.\n\n\"_Do!_\" said the prettiest of the fairies in chorus.\n\nHardly knowing what he was about, so much did he want to see the\nentrancing dance all over again, he held out the key to the applicant;\nbut, noticing a peculiar gleam dart from the pixie's eyes, he quickly\nsnatched it back again and replaced it in his pocket, and coming to\nhimself found that the peacocks were once more between him and the fairy\nring; that twopence was in his hand, and there was no one at all about.\nThen he realised how narrow his escape had been. \"Uneasy lies the head\nthat wears a crown.\" Cedric knew that Shakespeare had written that; but\nhe had never expected to learn the truth of it from experience.\n\nHe lay on the grass, and pondered what he had better do in the trying\npolitical situation. \"What's the use of being King of Fairyland if I\nhave to be plotted against every hour of the day?\" muttered Cedric\ndisconsolately.\n\n\"No use at all.\"\n\nThey were the soft tones of the little Queen of Gossamerland. She sat\ndown next to him and put her tiny hand on his arm.\n\n\"What's to be done, then?\"\n\n\"It's very simple,\" she rejoined. \"Give me the Golden Key. You'll be\nking no longer, but you'll have no responsibilities or anxieties.\"\n\n\"That won't be much fun for me,\" replied Cedric. \"Besides, what will you\ndo with it?\"\n\n\"The right thing. I'll give it to the Crown Princess, the rightful heir.\nThat will save the country a general election, and fairy tranquillity\nwill reign once more.\"\n\n\"Why did you warn me not to part with it? And now you ask me for it!\"\n\n\"I wanted to get it myself as soon as you would give it up, so that I\nmight deliver it to my dear friend, who will become a queen like me.\nThen she can choose her husband; and, after being her bridesmaid, I\nsuppose I shall be married too.\"\n\n\"Will you marry me?\" asked Cedric bluntly.\n\n\"Why, you'd have to live on honey!\" replied the Gossamer Queen, with a\nsmile, half sweet, half malicious. Cedric turned it over in his mind,\nbut not for long.\n\n\"Give me the key,\" she begged coaxingly.\n\n\"Yes--but,\" argued the boy, \"it's worth a lot, you know: I wouldn't so\nmuch mind swopping it; but----\"\n\nThe Queen of Gossamerland, tired of wasting time, put out her hand so\nprettily, and pursed up her lips so sweetly and daintily, that he _did_\ngive her the Golden Key, and she gave a kiss as a receipt. Then she said\nthat the Office of Works would send for the crown, and flitted away.\n\nCedric prepared to remove his crown, with a sigh to think he had no\nlonger any right to it, but first he ran to the stream that slowly\nfloated by, and took a good look at himself. He smiled with pride. \"I\nmust say,\" he remarked confidentially to himself, \"I really do look\nevery inch a king! But, after all, I couldn't go to school with this\non--the fellows would be sure to notice it.\" He started at the bare\nidea, and laid down the crown with a feeling of \"good riddance\" as\nprofound and grateful as ever King James II. could have experienced. He\nfelt no other pang than that of dignity too quickly swept away.\n\nHe placed it on the grass, confident that the Gossamer Queen would send\nfor it at once, and he began to think of his own return. \"Now to find\nthat door!\" he exclaimed, and looked about him to ask the way. The\ngolden lake, the glittering palace, the sentry of mountains--all were\nthere; but no living being was in sight.\n\n\"Queer place, _I_ call it,\" said Cedric to himself. \"No cake shops, only\nhoney, and no policemen to tell the way.\" He wandered on in the hope of\ncoming sooner or later, somehow and somewhere, to the door.\n\nAfter a time he met the funny little old man who had accosted him on his\narrival. He was gazing hard at the boy, looking right through him as\nthough he were not there.\n\n\"Will you kindly show me the door?\" said Cedric eagerly.\n\n\"Turn you out, do you mean?\" asked ex-King the First.\n\n\"I want to turn myself out, if I can,\" replied Cedric.\n\n\"Already? Good morning, young gentleman, ex-King the Second. There's a\npair of us.\"\n\n\"Please show me the door.\"\n\n\"When is a door not a-jar?\" asked the out-o'-work sovereign.\n\n\"Don't ask me riddles. Show me the door!\" ordered Cedric in his best\nroyal-command manner, and looked so threatening that the little old man\nquickly pointed over his shoulder.\n\nCedric walked off in that direction without a word, and to his joy he\ndiscovered the door just a little way in front of him.\n\n\"Thank goodness!\" he exclaimed, as he ran up to it--and then he suddenly\nrealised that he no longer possessed the Golden Key with which to open\nit. How was he to escape? He turned and looked back at what now was\nan immeasurable distance--so very far away did it seem--and there was\nonce more bustling activity about the palace. Another Coronation\nceremony was beginning all over again.\n\n[Illustration: \"_I really do look every inch a king!_\"]\n\nThe boy flung himself against the door, and banged and kicked at it with\nall his might. It was of no use.\n\n\"Oh, the key, the key!\" he cried. \"If they would only spare it from\ntheir silly triumphing for a moment, and let me out!\"\n\nHe put his eye to the keyhole, and with longing gaze he saw his kite on\nthe spot he had left it, with its lazy tail gently stirred by the\nbreeze.\n\nOnce more he looked back, despairing of help; the same animated fairy\nscene met his gaze--all so indifferent to his helplessness. Grasping the\nhandle of the door in his hand he shook it in desperation.\n\nThen he remembered. He quietly turned the handle, and walked out!\n\nThe sea breeze blew freshly as Cedric freed his kite from the bush, and\nwhen he looked back there was Land's End just as he had seen it before.\n\"And Fairyland's end, too,\" he muttered; for all trace of the iron door\nhad disappeared after he passed through. He stared in astonishment, and\ncouldn't make it out; and the adventure remained a mystery all the days\nof his life.\n\n\n\n\nROSELLA\n\n\n\"Rosella!\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother?\" And a dark-eyed little girl looked down over the\nbanisters into the hall.\n\n\"I want you to get ready quickly and go to the Moat House, and persuade\nGrandfather to come back with you this afternoon instead of waiting\nuntil the evening.\"\n\n\"But if he invites me to tea with him?\"\n\n\"Don't stay, dearie. I want you back before dusk, and it gets dark so\nsoon now; and you must help me to tie the crackers on the\nChristmas-tree. It's still sunny, so make haste.\"\n\nIn a few minutes the child was tripping downstairs, smart and cosy in\nher red coat, hat, and muff, with all the importance of her nine years.\n\n\"Go the shortest way--you know; keep to the path across the moor,\"\ncontinued her mother, \"or you might fall over bits of rock under the\nsnow.\"\n\n\"Do you know, Mother, I always wonder, when there's snow, where all the\ngrass is and what's underneath? All killed by the freeze?\"\n\n\"Oh no. The snow keeps everything nice and warm,\" replied her mother\nwith a kiss.\n\nDavis, the portly butler, advanced and opened the front door.\n\n\"Being _above_ the snow doesn't keep _me_ nice and warm, Mother,\" called\nback Rosella as she ran laughing down the steps into the icy north wind,\nwhich blew her dark hair out to its full length and heightened the warm\ncolour in her cheeks.\n\n\"Make haste, and you'll be there in half-an-hour.\" Mrs. Silverton\nreturned to her boudoir, and standing at the bow-window followed with\nloving eyes the graceful little red figure, until at a bend in the road\nit turned, gaily waved a farewell, and was lost to sight.\n\nWhen Rosella reached the moor the high wind was against her, blowing her\nfrock between her knees and making her eyes water. \"This way will be\nvery difficult and unpleasant,\" she thought to herself. \"I'd far rather\ngo round by the hill, and then, too, I could see if Grandfather has got\nthe Snow Castle on the top finished and ready for to-morrow--I forgot\nabout that when Mother said to go across the moor. I should so like to\nsee it--I wonder if I might!\"\n\nShe stood irresolute for a moment, then left the straight path and\nstarted running, in order to save time, in the other direction: thus\nmaking for the hill which she intended to climb.\n\nThe sun became obscured, and what was worse, down from the leaden yellow\nsky tiny snowflakes began to flutter as though in play, rapidly\nincreasing in size and volume until, as if by magic, Rosella found\nherself enveloped in a blinding snowstorm that obscured the landscape,\nand decided her to return home. But returning home was not so easy as\nturning herself round, and she soon had the growing conviction that no\nmatter which way she turned she was lost, utterly lost: for all that she\ncould see was that she no longer seemed to be dressed in red, but was\nthickly coated in white.\n\nTwice she tripped over the uneven ground, but she stumbled along\nhopefully and bravely, and even tried to sing, only the snowflakes got\ninto her mouth and made her shut it up tight.\n\nRosella had no idea where she was, and she felt very tired. How she\nwished now she had gone straight forward! There would have been no\ndifficulty about that. By good luck she came close up to a large piece\nof overhanging rock; she did not remember ever seeing it before, so she\nwas more than ever confused as to the whereabouts of the hill or of\nanything; but it was good for shelter. She placed her muff in a niche\nabove her head, and sat down to rest awhile and consider what she had\nbest do.\n\nThe wind howled around her only partially sheltered retreat, and\nmyriads of snowflakes, drifting in, fell softly about her, creeping\ncloser and closer, covering her boots, lying thickly on her frock, on\nher shoulders, drifting, too, into her eyes and making them blink, and\npowdering her hair with white. And she felt too cold to think--too cold\nto move.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter a while Rosella exclaimed: \"This won't do. I must get up from\nhere. It's such a dreadfully cold place!\" And she determined to try and\ngo on, if only to keep herself warm. So she shook herself, took down her\nmuff, and went forth.\n\nIt was snowing as much as ever, but Rosella found that the ground was no\nlonger flat. She was on the hillside, and as she climbed she wondered\nanxiously how she should know which side to come down, once she was on\nthe top, in order to find the Moat House. Then she smiled as it occurred\nto her how much she must now look like the tiny, red-hooded, toy figure\nin the glass paper weight at home which showed itself enveloped in a\nminiature snowstorm when it was shaken. She plodded on higher and\nhigher.\n\nThe weather was clearing when Rosella stood on the summit of the hill,\nand she was lost in admiration as she gazed at the largest, grandest\nSnow Castle she could never have imagined. Before it, too, stood a Snow\nMan splendidly proportioned and set up. To her intense astonishment, as\nshe timidly approached he bowed politely.\n\nRosella curtsied instinctively, then laughed as she went round to see\nwhere he had broken. But he wasn't broken at all, for he turned too,\nfaced her, and said--\n\n\"I need hardly introduce myself, Rosella. I presume you recognise King\nFrost when you meet him in any guise. You wished to see my Castle--and\ngave yourself a polite invitation. You are welcome!\"\n\nShe was so taken aback with the suddenness of all this that she could\nfind no words for reply. So she made another, much lower, curtsey, which\nshe knew to be correct in the presence of Royalty, then she took his\nproffered arm. And the tall white figure and the little white figure\nmounted the white steps, went through the massive gateway, and proceeded\ndown a long, narrow passage lighted with a ruddy glow from the high\nwindows, which were glazed with something red, transparent, and\nglistening. It was much warmer here, and Rosella noticed that the snow\nhad melted from her clothes, and that her companion also appeared to be\ndressed in red. His white face with its white beard and white hair wore\nquite a jovial air, and on top of it was set a crown of carved ice that\nreminded her of their chandelier in the drawing-room.\n\nHe did the honours by offering her some snow broth, which she declined.\nThen she thought she ought to say something, so she remarked, with a\ntouch of family pride--\n\n\"I had no idea that Grandfather had built such a fine place as this.\"\n\n\"_I_ think the credit is entirely mine,\" protested her companion with an\namused chuckle. \"_I_ provide the material, you see, or there would have\nbeen no 'fine place' at all. See my point?\"\n\n\"Yes, your Majesty,\" she assented, for she knew it wasn't polite to\nargue--especially with a royal personage.\n\n\"This way!\" he exclaimed, and led her down another passage on the right,\nand halted to push open a swing door of ice a little way, and genially\npatted her on the cheek--which was kindly meant no doubt, but his touch\nnipped her with cold so that she shivered.\n\n\"I shall be on guard outside. If you want me, call me!\" Almost as soon\nas she heard the words the heavy door swung to behind her, and she found\nherself alone in a great, white, glistening hall with high arches open\nto the air. Evidently it was scarcely snowing now, for only little\nisolated flakes came fluttering in. But in their falling they changed\ninto little shadowy girls and boys in white, who danced playfully around\nher, and their cold white draperies swept lightly about her face,\nreminding her of the blinding snowstorm she had passed through. But she\nonly wanted to get away to her grandfather now.\n\nRosella sheltered her face with her muff and ran the gauntlet of the\npersistent little snowflakes. In a corner she espied a spiral staircase\nwhich seemed to lead up into one of the battlemented towers she had\nnoticed outside, and she imagined it a way of escape, so up she ran. The\nsteps were very slippery, but she got up to the top, where, through a\nnarrow loophole, she saw King Frost down below, standing there just as\nshe first saw him when she thought him only a Snow Man. More anxious\nthan ever to know how to get to her grandfather, she called out--\n\n\"Your Majesty!\" and repeated loudly the two words over and over again,\nfor he either would not or could not hear her. And what was very\ncurious, there was an echo which called back \"Rosella! Rosella!\" in the\nsame anxious tone.\n\nTalking was clearly of no use; she must do something. So she tried to\nsqueeze her muff through the aperture in order to drop it on his head\nand attract his attention--but it would not go through. It stuck there\nand closed out her view. Try as she would she could not release it; and\nwith a gulp in her throat she realised she would have to leave it. Her\nhands grew terribly cold without it, and it was too draughty to remain\nthere.\n\nFrom the landing on which she stood steps led up higher, so she\nproceeded to explore, and found herself in an octagonal turret chamber.\n\"I suppose it serves me right, and I _am_ lost, _and_ there's no one to\nhelp me!\" sighed Rosella.\n\n\"Oh yes there is!\"\n\n\"Whose voice is that?\" she asked. She could see no one--but at the same\nmoment a sunbeam pierced through an aperture, pointed straight at what\nappeared to be a lift behind a slender column, and then faded away. It\n_was_ a lift, made of ice and snow, as was everything else in the\nCastle. Rosella entered it and took a seat. The lift at once began\ngently and slowly to go down, down, first into the foundations of the\nCastle, and then into the interior of the hill right down under the\nsnow, till it stopped in a Grotto lined with cobwebs and suffused with a\nmysterious green light. There was a soft, singing sound, as though made\nby the wind. In front was a frozen lake, and the ice of it was green\nfrom the same strange light.\n\n\"I must try and find my way to Grandfather,\" said Rosella vaguely as\nshe wandered about the Grotto, looking about her for a way out.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMrs. Silverton kept glancing anxiously at the clock and at the\nsnowstorm. Davis entered. \"Madam,\" said he, with an usually solemn face,\n\"Mr. Silverton has telephoned again from the Moat House that Miss\nRosella hasn't arrived.\"\n\n\"Then she must have lost her way!\" exclaimed her mother, now thoroughly\nalarmed. \"Though I don't see how she could, keeping straight across the\nmoor to the Moat House gate at the end of the path. We must set out,\nDavis, and find her.\"\n\n\"Difficult this weather, Madam, if our young lady is lost on the moor.\"\n\n\"Is it still so bad?\"\n\n\"The storm's not so thick as it was. I'll go immediately. There's no\ntime to be lost, to my thinking, Madam.\"\n\n\"Yes, we'll go at once, Davis.\"\n\nMrs. Silverton, pale with anxiety, sent other messengers in various\ndirections, and then started off herself. On the moor she met another\nsearch party headed by old Mr. Silverton and his faithful collie dog.\nAnd the moor rang with anxious cries of \"Rosella! Rosella!\" uttered by\nwhitened shadowy figures that looked like phantoms in the falling snow.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"I _must_ try and find my way to Grandfather,\" repeated Rosella\nfalteringly, realising that she didn't know in the least how to proceed.\nShe never had a notion that a Snow Castle was so intricate inside, with\na hall, a lift, a grotto, and things; indeed, she had always imagined\nfor no particular reason that it had no inside at all; \"but of course,\"\nshe now argued, \"if it has an outside it _must_ have an inside, or it\nwouldn't be an outside.\" But it was much more startling when she looked\nup and found that she was by no means alone: the cobwebs were all\ninhabited. Inhabited--not by ugly spiders, but by the wee-est little\nbaby-fairies with the wee-est gossamer wings, swaying in their cobweb\nhammocks in all attitudes, fast asleep, soothed by the lullaby hummed by\nthe wind.\n\n\"This must be where they are bred!\" cried Rosella, in an ecstasy of\nadmiration and delight.\n\n\"This is Fairy Spring's nursery,\" explained a beautiful Sprite,\nappearing suddenly at her elbow like a little bright sunbeam. \"King\nFrost is the ground landlord, you know, and allows all her young things\nto sleep here and keep warm.\"\n\n\"And who are you, please?\" inquired the Sprite's young visitor.\n\n\"I am Love of Goodwill, and my father's name is Christmas.\"\n\n\"I know you by name quite well, and am so glad to see you. Perhaps you\nwould kindly help me to find my way?\"\n\n\"If you keep on going to the right, when you see the snowdrops' mother,\nthere you will find your landmark.\"\n\n\"Oh, do please tell me more clearly. What did you say? Tell me where\nI\"--but Rosella was again alone in the green grotto with the sleeping\nbaby-fairies in their swaying hammocks, and the soft music of the wind.\n\"Surely there can't be any grown-up snowdrops at Christmas--it's too\nearly!--and I shall be losing my way for weeks!\" continued Rosella.\nNevertheless, she kept on turning to the right through upward passages\nfirst of rock, then of sand, in which were embedded deep growing roots,\nthen of soil with its minerals, broken up leaves, and corpses of insects\nwhich she didn't like at all; then through a passage lined with true red\nsoil, where little grubs were lying fast asleep in their nests.\n\n\"You ugly grubby little things!\" remarked Rosella as she passed them.\n\n\"They are only lying low at present. They will be lovely Painted Ladies\nand visit the court of Fairy Spring,\" replied Love of Goodwill, hovering\nagain at her side. \"And look! There are the baby snowdrops asleep in\ntheir earthy cots. They, too, will awake soon and get up. I helped their\nmother to get up as she was in such a hurry to see the world. I'm\nafraid she will have got nipped by King Frost for her impatience.\nFarewell--I must go and see what is happening.\"\n\nRosella followed the sunbeam--into which the Sprite had vanished--and at\nonce felt the keen air blowing on her face, and knew she was above\nground once more. Everything was all white again. She sat down upon a\npiece of rock to rest, and noticed the sunbeam pointing straight at a\nlittle woe-begone snowdrop sticking up out of the snow before her. And\nto her joy the Snow Man was close by calling \"Rosella! Rosella!\" in the\necho's anxious tone she had heard before--so he must have wanted her\nthen, badly.\n\n\"Yes, your Majesty!\" she murmured.\n\nHe bent over her kindly. \"There, little lady,\" he continued, \"drink some\nof this now!\" and something cold yet stinging was poured gently down her\nthroat.\n\n\"Thank you, your Majesty. I did feel tired and queer, but your snow\nbroth has made me all right.\" She said it quite gratefully. Then her\neyes opened wide and she cried in amazement--\n\n\"Grandfather! Why it's _you_! You were the Snow Man all the time! And\nlook! there's my muff up there that I left in the wall!\"\n\n\"But for that sticking up we might never have found our little\ntreasure,\" replied old Mr. Silverton. He picked her up and, holding her\naloft, showed her to her anxious mother, who came hurrying on the scene.\n\n\"Don't shiver so, dearie,\" exclaimed Mrs. Silverton, passionately\nembracing the child, as hot tears dropped on her daughter's face. \"You\nmust be perished with cold, but this nice sunshine which has come out\nnow will do you good.\"\n\n\"I didn't feel cold. It was quite nice and warm under the snow as you\nsaid, Mother--and so wonderful!\"\n\nDavis carried her home in triumph at the head of the procession; and\nafter precautionary remedies had been taken, Rosella sat cosily tucked\nup in the big arm-chair in front of the huge log fire, thinking over all\nshe had seen. Of course she confessed to her temptation to go astray,\nand was readily forgiven. Then, as Mr. Silverton insisted he had never\nin his life been any one else but himself, Rosella gaily recounted her\nmeeting with the Snow Man at his Snow Castle. \"And King Frost said,\nGrandfather,\" concluded Rosella, \"that the credit of the Castle was his\nfor providing the snow and not yours.\"\n\n\"Bless my soul!\" cried old Mr. Silverton. \"And he was right there,\nbecause I've had nothing to do with any Snow Castle or any Snow\nMan--there was some talk, but nothing came of it.\"\n\n\"But I was King Frost's visitor there, don't you see,\" insisted Rosella,\nsmiling. \"So I know that's only one of your jokes, Grandfather.\"\n\nHe smiled too and wiped his spectacles.\n\nThe next morning Rosella volunteered to fetch her grandfather and\nintroduce him to King Frost. So the two climbed the hill. But no vestige\nof Snow Castle or Snow Man was there.\n\n\"There, you see!\" said her grandfather, laughing, as he genially patted\nher on the cheek. How cold his hand felt! It nipped her with cold, so\nthat she shivered. Yet the weather had changed, and it was more like a\nsunny day in spring than in midwinter.\n\nShe left old Mr. Silverton at his gate, and he assured her with a kiss\nthat he wasn't a bit disappointed at the wonderful disappearance, but\nthat it was all certainly a very remarkable affair indeed.\n\nRosella thought so too. Then she turned and walked thoughtfully home.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CUCKOO THAT LIVED IN THE CLOCK-HOUSE\n\n\nIt was rather a ramshackle, badly-built wooden house, in which the\nCuckoo lived. Outside it looked smart enough, but inside, repairs were\nbadly needed. It had been handed down from father to son, and over the\nfront door, which was at the top of the house, stood a beautifully\ncarved statue of their ancestor, Sir Cuckoo de Cuckoo.\n\nThe Clock-House was situated not far from the Dolls' House, backed by a\nflowery wall in a small department of Nursery Land ruled over by Robert\nand Lucy. Lucy was ground landlady of the Clock-House, and it was her\ndaily privilege to wind up its affairs.\n\nNo one ever knocked at the Cuckoo's front door, because it had no\nnumber; there was a round dozen of numbers in the immediate\nneighbourhood. The pendulum, whose tongue never ceased to wag once it\nwas wound up, remarked, that two firm hands were required to keep things\nin order. As to the chains, they regularly got weighed down under the\nstrain of responsibility, and a heavy weight it was.\n\nSo, as one could not summon the Cuckoo at will, the only thing to do was\nto wait and see it when it chose to appear, and then--as likely as not,\nif nobody was about--Robert would seize the opportunity to take\npot-shots at it with his pea-shooter. So far he had invariably missed.\nSometimes it kept an appointment with him punctually at the hour,\nsometimes it didn't. Occasionally, it came out at odd times, and then\nremained indoors altogether. When that happened for a more than usually\nlong period, it was sure to be because the poor Cuckoo felt indisposed\nin its bellows; and when it became apparent that something had gone\nwrong with the inmate of the Clock-House, an entrance had to be effected\nby the back door and a dose of oil administered. Whereupon the front\ndoor would fly open and the Cuckoo appear again on the threshold--it\nnever ventured further--bow to the multitude, or to empty space, and\npipe \"Cuc--koo!\" just as many times as it felt inclined at the moment.\n\nOne fine afternoon in spring, when the Cuckoo came out punctually, and\nwent through its performance of three bows with a Cuckoo call after each\nsalutation, there happened to be a fresh inmate all alone in the\nnursery. This was Tabiatha, the new kitten, cosily reposing in her new\nbasket under the table. \"Aha! Poultry!\" mewed Tabiatha, lying low,\nopening a lazy but watchful eye, and gazing upwards. \"Bless my tail!\nYou're a tender morsel, I'll be bound--small, but a tit-bit!\" So thought\nthe kitten, with an increasing feeling of longing in the chest. It had\nsounded to Tabiatha like an echo of the call she had heard so recently\nin the lane near the old farm at home.\n\n\"I don't want to pop out any more!\" said the Cuckoo after re-entering\nthe Clock-House. \"I'm bored to tears!\" And it settled down in a corner\nand looked very melancholy. \"What with that horrid boy, Robert, lurking\nabout--and now a kitten of all things! Why, life's not worth the living!\nIf ever I do pop out again, I should like to pop out for good and\nall--stretch my wings and fly away, right away, and see something of the\nworld!\"\n\n\"Work! That's the cure for all woes!\" solemnly ticked the pendulum.\n\"Look at me, I'm always at it, with a good swinging stride.\" The hands\ndidn't explain their views--they were keeping far apart, and were not on\nspeaking terms. \"Every one is expected to do his duty,\" urged the\npendulum.\n\n\"That was only meant for one day--not morning, noon, and night,\" argued\nthe Cuckoo. \"It's all very well for a wagtail like you--but for a Cuckoo\nwith a soul above it--especially with a fine, well-trained voice!\"\n\n\"Every one must do his duty at all times. Yes, look at me--but I fear\nyou can't see me. Do you follow me?\" asked the pendulum jokingly.\nGetting no reply, it ticked-tacked on, until the Cuckoo felt quite\ndistracted.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"Listen to me, children,\" said their mother, entering the nursery, when\nplaytime had begun; \"Nurse has gone to lie down. She isn't very well\nthis afternoon. So at four o'clock put everything away neatly; then make\nyourselves tidy, and come downstairs, where you may have tea with me.\"\n\nRobert and Lucy said they were sorry for Nurse, but they smiled, and\nhopped about with delight at the treat of tea downstairs. They promised\nto do as they were told, and with muffled footsteps hurried on the\nlanding to open the gate and let their mother out of their domain, and\nquietly closed it to keep themselves in. Then they settled down in the\nnursery to \"Loto;\" but as Lucy always won, Robert tired of it. Card\nhouses didn't answer either, because it amused Robert not to build them,\nbut to shake the table when Lucy's structures were in course of\nerection.\n\nTheir mother, busily writing in the drawing-room, began to wonder why\nthe children didn't come downstairs; and tea was just being brought in,\nwhen suddenly screams and cries were heard issuing from the nursery, and\nshe rushed upstairs in alarm.\n\nThere she found the nursery littered with things, chairs in unusual\nplaces, some overturned, and Lucy lying on the floor crying, with a cut\non her lip, which was bleeding. Robert had both stockings torn, and was\nruefully rubbing his knees. The little girl was more frightened than\nhurt.\n\n\"Whatever has happened, Robert?\" exclaimed their mother as she helped\nLucy to her feet, and comforted her.\n\n\"I was hunting,\" he began to explain, \"and she was the gazelle, and I\nwas chasing her from rock to rock----\"\n\n\"Jumping from the table on to the chairs and back again,\" added Lucy in\nfurther explanation, \"and we both tumbled down!\"\n\n\"Serve you both right for being so disobedient as to jump on the\nfurniture,\" replied their mother, with placid satisfaction that matters\nwere no worse. \"You ought to have been all tidied up, and downstairs by\nnow.\"\n\n\"It isn't time yet, surely, Mother!\" The three turned instinctively\ntowards the Cuckoo clock. It had stopped at three minutes to four.\n\n\"There now, Lucy, you silly!\" cried her brother; \"if you hadn't\nforgotten to wind it up, we shouldn't have had that beastly tumble, and\nshouldn't have been late for tea.\"\n\n\"Come, dears, quickly, and I'll help make you ready,\" said their mother;\nand they left the nursery together.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDuring the excitement Tabiatha had remained unnoticed in her basket\nunder the table, glad in all the turmoil to be peaceful and forgotten.\nShe came out, stretched herself lazily, and soon began to gambol about\nthe room. The clock chain, lying loosely on the ground, attracted her\nattention. She crouched, then leapt at one bound upon it, backed a\nlittle, touched it with her paw, lay on her side, and played with the\nbright links with all four paws and much enjoyment. With a sudden\nmovement she righted herself--made a spring upwards, missed the chain\nand fell without hurt. Liking this novel game, she leapt higher next\ntime, and alighted on a cushioned chair, scratched her way up, jumped on\nto a bookcase, and then on to an empty shelf. There was the chain within\neasy reach. Putting out her paw, it caught instead in a ring she hadn't\nnoticed. To disentangle it she reached over, lost her foothold, and,\nstill caught in the ring, found that the rattling chain was moving\ndownwards with her weight until it deposited her gently on the ground,\ngreatly to her surprise. Again she scrambled up the furniture in the\nsame way. Her paw was now on both chains. Suddenly something swung\nbackwards and forwards--\n\nTic--tac!\n\nTabiatha was for the moment dismayed, and, arching her back, she stood\nrooted to the spot.\n\nTic--tac!\n\nIt came unpleasantly close to her, nearly touching her nose each time,\nbut she never budged an inch. Whr-r-r-r-r!\n\nCuc--koo! Cuc--koo! Cuc--koo! Cuc----\n\nTabiatha, rising to the occasion, and quick to seize an opportunity or\nanything else, took her last and only chance. She seized the poultry\nwith both paws--Crack! Snap! She lost her balance and fell down, down,\non to the cushioned chair. The Cuckoo flew into the air, alighted on\nTabiatha's back, and bounded on to the ground. Tabiatha forgot at once\nher escape from breaking her neck, sprang after the Cuckoo lying there,\nturned it over, paused, sniffed, found to her surprise that it was not\ngood to eat, that it hadn't even feathers, and was only made of wood,\nturned it over again, and began tapping it and pouncing on it until,\nsuddenly forgetting all about it, she cantered away sideways with her\ntail curling in the air. She jumped into her basket, rolled herself up,\nsoon purred herself fast asleep, and looked the very picture of helpless\ninnocence.\n\nThe Cuckoo, out in the world at last, having recovered from its first\nalarm at the useless stiffness of its wings, waited for something to\nhappen. As nothing did happen, it thought the world a very dull and\nstupid place, and concluded that, after all, work was better than lying\nthere helpless, idle, motionless, and ridiculous. What was the use of\nits trained voice now? It couldn't articulate a sound even to summon\nhelp. It had no idea of the time, but the sun was shining brightly when\nat last it found itself carefully lifted and placed on a higher level.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Lucy entered the nursery that morning, soon after Robert, he\nexclaimed--\n\n\"I say, Lucy! There's something fresh for breakfast. Look on your\nplate!\"\n\n\"Oh, my poor Cuckoo!\" she cried in distress. \"You've shot it at last.\nYou bad boy--I shan't love you ever any more!\"\n\nBut she did love him at once again, for it was a fact that no one knew\nhow ever the Cuckoo came to be lying on the floor in the remote corner\nwhere Nurse had picked it up. The cushioned chair was in its place\nagain--a long way off the clock. Every one was mystified, and could not\nimagine how it had happened. But Tabiatha knew all about it, though you\nwould never have guessed it from her round, innocent eyes as she sat\nlicking first one velvety paw, and then the other velvety paw, as though\nshe were washing them of any share in the mischief.\n\nWhen the Clock-House was spring-cleaned, and the Cuckoo duly set there\non its legs again, it formed the firm determination to remain at its\npost in the future, and, with its Clock-House in order, it worked ever\nafter with regularity and good humour just like one o'clock.\n\n\"Cuc--koo!\" Bow, click.\n\n\n\n\nCHRISTMAS AT THE COURT OF KING JORUM\n\n\nThe great evening had come, and every one in Cosmopolis Castle was agog\nwith excitement. Eight months before, the Monarch had by Royal Herald\nExtraordinary announced his intention of making known his decision on\nChristmas Eve. And Christmas Eve had come. No wonder every one was agog\nwith excitement, because King Jorum was at last going to announce which\nof the lovely ladies of the Court should be raised to the position of\nthe late Queen, his defunct consort. She, poor soul, had possessed\nneither charm nor beauty, and without her he had been quite happy for\nthe past two years, surrounded by smiling faces and kept constantly\namused by the ladies and gentlemen of his Court.\n\nHe had a jovial nature, and was an indulgent father to his two young\ndaughters, especially fond of the younger, Princess Veronica, for more\ndelightful sweetness, prettiness, and lovableness it would be difficult\nto find in any other young damsel of sixteen years old. So believed that\nfine young soldier, Prince Olivin; and so believed every one else in\nthe whole kingdom. Every one else, with one exception--Princess\nChristobel, her sister, older by one year. She had her own ideas on the\nsubject evidently, for she kept a surly silence when her sister's\npraises were sung. People said it was her jealousy, because she was\nplain-looking, and sulky in expression and character; and some did say\nshe was secretly in love with Prince Olivin herself.\n\nOutside the castle this night the silent landscape had been decorated,\nby order of King Frost, in snow and crystal. Inside the castle the great\nhalls had been decorated, by order of King Jorum, in holly and\nmistletoe. In the antechamber to the ball-room stood the giant\nChristmas-tree, hung with so many gifts of exquisite needlework from the\nladies of the Court for the King, and so many, too, for Princess\nVeronica, that there was hardly room for any other presents for any one\nelse, so they had to be stacked up in separate heaps on the floor.\n\nThere was one present on the tree, which was handsomer and costlier than\nall the rest--it was a pair of woollen boots so cunningly and\ndexterously wrought with precious jewels that they were the most\nbeautiful ever seen or heard of. They were the handiwork of Countess\nSpinx, and of all the handsome ladies who were assembled in the\nball-room where the candles in the chandeliers cast a softening light\non their charms, she seemed this Christmas Eve the most unnerved, the\nmost excited. Courtiers came strolling in by twos and threes, and the\nscene became animated and gay.\n\nFor as history shows, it was the custom at the Court of King Jorum, by\nspecial decree of the Monarch, that every man, woman, and child should\ndress themselves in costumes of any distinctive style they\nliked--whatever suited their fancy best. (That was the origin, ages\nafter, of the term--fancy-dress.) There was thus no slavish following of\nfashion, and consequently every one looked, or fancied they looked,\ntheir very, very best, and were thoroughly at ease in their quaint and,\nmostly, fascinating attire.\n\n\"Here's Little Love!\" exclaimed a bevy of fair dames, pressing forward\nas a handsome child stepped into their midst, dressed as Cupid, and\nlooking the realest of little Loves from the tips of his tiny bare toes\nto the tips of his tiny bare wings. He was the King's godson and pet.\n\n\"He's sure to know! Perhaps he can give us a hint of the news!\"\nexclaimed Countess Spinx with eyes blazing eagerly as she placed herself\nin his path, with her crook firmly planted on the ground: she was\ndressed as a shepherdess, which showed to advantage the curls on her\nfair neck, and her small feet in their high-heeled shoes. \"Whisper to\nme!\" she coaxed; \"or,\" with a pretty shake of the crook, \"I'll not let\nyou pass!\"\n\nLittle Love might have been deaf, looking neither to the right nor to\nthe left, so unconcernedly did he continue his way stolidly on to meet\nthe procession of the King.\n\nCountess Spinx bit her lip in vexation; the other ladies merely shrugged\ntheir shoulders and laughed; and the gentlemen stroked their mouths to\nhide their smiles. Then all conversation was smothered by the entry of\nthe heralds with their raised silver trumpets and their--\n\n    _Par_--parraparpar--_pip_--ha!\n    _Par_--parraparpar--_paar_--_r_!\n\nThis was immediately followed by the entry of King Jorum holding Little\nLove by the hand. The whole company bowed and curtsied very low--and\nthen stood at attention, breathless with expectation.\n\nKing Jorum was a very big man, with a very big smile, and very big\nwoollen boots. He always wore woollen boots because, being his own\nCommander-in-chief, he liked to stand at ease. So he said, naturally in\na very big voice--\n\n\"According to my promise it is now my pleasure to announce to my Court\nhere assembled my decision with regard to your future Queen. After\nprolonged thought and study of face and character I have come to the\nconclusion that there is not one lady of my Court but who is quite\nlovely enough and charming enough to become my royal consort. Therefore\nto choose is difficult--so difficult that it is impossible, and, being\nimpossible, I shall never wed again. I have spoken.\"\n\n[Illustration: _Looking neither to the right nor to the left_]\n\nFor a moment there was intense silence. Then deafening cheers arose, and\nall faces were radiant with delight, especially the faces of the ladies,\nwho thus remained equals, no jealousy being possible. \"Such tact!\" said\none. \"How true!\" cried another. But one lady had slipped away\nunobserved. It was Countess Spinx.\n\nThe gallant Monarch, unaccompanied, pleased at the reception given to\nhis declaration, smilingly passed on to the antechamber, as was his\nwont, for a private view of the Christmas-tree before the revels\ncommenced. King Jorum had detached one of the woollen boots embroidered\nwith pearls and precious stones, anxiously tried it on, and was admiring\nthe effect, when Little Love appeared and inquired if he would grant an\ninterview to Prince Olivin, who was waiting without.\n\n\"I am engaged,\" was his Majesty's impatient reply.\n\n\"That, Sire, is what Prince Olivin wants to be!\"\n\n\"Eh, what's that? Put on this other boot for me\"--he unfastened it from\nthe tree. \"Ha! that's very smart. Very attentive of the dear Countess.\nNow show him in!\"\n\nThe two young Princesses had not made their appearance for the\nproclamation. They, as well as Little Love, had been in the King's\nconfidence, and they did not intend to be present. However, as the hour\nof the revels was fast approaching, Veronica feared that her sister\nwould be late as usual, so she took her last glance at herself in the\nmirror, tightened the blue ribbon that was threaded through her fair\nhair, tucked a pale rose in the blue sash of her high-waisted, white\nmuslin frock, and flitted off happily to Christobel's room.\n\n\"Come in!\" said a not very amiable voice in response to the light tap.\n\"Oh, it's you, is it?\"\n\n\"Can I help you, as you have no maid?\"\n\nPrincess Christobel's room was by no means tidy. \"I don't want any\nhelp,\" she replied ungraciously, moving some of the garments that\nlittered the bed, \"but you can sit down there, if you like, next to the\n'Shah of Persia.'\"\n\nVeronica took the place indicated next to the sweetest little blue\nPersian kitten that was curled up fast asleep on the coverlet.\n\n\"I like your new frock, Veronica,\" continued Christobel, surveying her\nsister as she pinned up her black hair without troubling even to do it\nbefore a glass; \"but you look pretty in anything. If you didn't, no one\nwould trouble to pet you. No one ever fusses over me.\"\n\n\"Papa does, for one.\"\n\n\"Only because he thinks it's his duty.\"\n\n\"I would if you'd let me.\"\n\n\"Oh yes. You'd be very pleased if I'd let you hang about me--an ugly\ngirl can't show to much advantage next to a pretty one. I know your\nlittle game.\"\n\n\"Oh, Christobel! How can you say such unkind, unjust things?\" protested\npoor Veronica with a sob.\n\n\"If you want to cry,\" said Christobel crossly, \"you shouldn't do so\nuntil you go to sleep. You cry so easily; and then your bright eyes look\nheavy, and your aquiline nose gets red, and the whole Castle gets upset\nabout them. Who cares if _my_ eyes are red?\"\n\n\"Every one, of course. Besides, one's looks aren't everything.\"\n\n\"I know differently. Looks _are_ everything. But I don't care if people\ntrouble about me or not, or anything they do, or think, or say!\"\n\n\"What _are_ you putting on, Christobel? Not _that_, surely!\"\n\n\"Yes. Same old Red Riding Hood cape and green skirt--does for indoors or\nout. Same old crew about, I suppose?\"\n\n\"I suppose so. But it's Christmas Eve. Those loose things don't even\nsuit you. Let me lend you a new frock which I have, just the same as\nthis; we can arrange ribbons of your colour, red. We're the same height,\nand it will suit you quite as well as it suits me.\"\n\n\"A nice comparison people would draw, eh?\" sneered Christobel; and being\nready she took the sleepy Shah in her arms and stalked downstairs with\nhim faintly mewing his protests, leaving her sister to follow if she\nliked.\n\nIn the ball-room Christobel superciliously took no notice of the\nrespectful greetings of the Court. She was naturally shy, reserved too,\nand sensitive as to her appearance and lack of charm. But Veronica had a\nkind word for every one, stopping to greet with a smile or a merry jest\nall present; for they all adored her for her sweetness, graciousness,\nand extraordinary beauty. There wasn't a man but who would have died for\nher, nor a woman but who felt better for her radiant presence. Little\nLove suddenly appeared and whispered something to Princess Veronica, who\nblushed, was confused, and said in a low voice to her sister--\n\n\"Prince Olivin is here! Papa has sent for me.\"\n\n\"You might have told me he was coming,\" replied Christobel, turning\npale.\n\n\"But I never knew, indeed.\" Her sister had turned away, and Little Love\nwas leading Veronica towards the antechamber.\n\nIt seemed to Princess Christobel as though every face in the ball-room\nwas a mask, and behind that mask were eyes that gleamed with\nmockery--that she had only to turn her back, and fingers of scorn and\nderision would mark her passage--and she turned and fled, never pausing\nin her course through the long passages and up the marble stairway until\nshe was back in her room, where she flung the poor Shah and herself on\nthe bed and burst into a torrent of tears and lamentations in her\nloneliness, disappointment, and jealousy. The kitten, too, looked\nunusually blue, and mewed disconsolately--felt bored, then purred,\nstretched its little self on the coverlet, and fell asleep again. Before\nlong the sound of the heralds' silver trumpets pierced right up into\nChristobel's ears--\n\n    _Par_--parraparpar--_pip_--ha!\n    _Par_--parraparpar--_paar_--_r_!\n\nAnd she knew that the engagement was then being announced of Princess\nVeronica to Prince Olivin; and the strains of the Waltz of the\nAffianced which followed, played by the Court musicians, confirmed the\nfact.\n\nHow long she remained thus in the dark she did not know. Sounds of an\nangry voice roused her from her stupor, and she went out into the\nbrilliantly lighted corridor, shading her eyes from the glare, the scent\nof flowers and the soft strains of music becoming more noticeable as she\napproached the stairway whence the voices proceeded--one of which she\ncould now distinguish as being that of her sister. She peeped over the\nbanisters, and saw, standing close beside Veronica, Countess Spinx,\nwhite with suppressed passion.\n\n\"You knew,\" hissed the Countess, \"that there was to be no Queen.\"\n\n\"I and my sister knew. Yes. Let me pass; I don't know what's become of\nher. I want to fetch her.\"\n\n\"You might have told it to your old friend. You are looking radiantly\nbeautiful to-night.\"\n\n\"I am very happy.\"\n\n\"Happy with your betrothed?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Listen! Did you know that every one said _I_ had the best chance of\nbeing Queen?\"\n\n\"You!\" exclaimed the young Princess in astonishment. \"Fancy young you my\nstepmother!\" and she burst out into a merry laugh. The next moment she\nwas falling headlong down the marble stairway, and then lay quite still,\nbruised and bleeding. In the stillness that ensued--for the music had\nstopped--Countess Spinx flew upstairs, where she was confronted by\nPrincess Christobel, who pushed roughly past her and hurried down to her\nsister's side. Her screams for help brought people running from every\nside. The injured girl, still unconscious, was quickly borne to her\napartments, and the Court physicians surrounded her.\n\nAll sorts of rumours were set afloat in the Castle, but all that was\ngathered for certain by the company, as they dispersed, was that\nPrincess Veronica slipped on the marble stair owing to her new\nhigh-heeled shoes--that the sweet face was strapped and bandaged, for it\nwas all cut and bruised, that the nose was broken, and her beauty spoilt\nfor ever. Prince Olivin was half wild with grief, and poor King Jorum\nwas shedding tears all alone in his study when Christobel sought\nadmittance. Her face was set and stern, and the sight of his weakness\ndidn't unnerve her as she said bluntly--\n\n\"Father, Veronica did not slip on the stair--she was purposely and\nviciously thrown down.\"\n\n\"Eh, _what_?\" exclaimed the King, staring at her. \"Are you taking leave\nof your senses? There's not a soul who would hurt my pretty darling.\nYou have enemies. She has none.\"\n\n\"_She_ was happy. Others were not. Countess Spinx was in a fury of\ndisappointment at not being chosen Queen. She flung poor Veronica down\nin spite and malice. I saw her do it.\"\n\nThe King bounded up. \"Summon the Countess!\" he cried.\n\nBefore her Christobel repeated her accusation, and Countess Spinx tried\nto assert she only put out her arms to save the unfortunate Princess\nfrom slipping. Further questioned, she got confused, contradicted\nherself, and finally sunk on her knees and prayed for mercy.\n\n\"To the cells!\" shouted the King, and his eyes falling on his jewelled\nboots, he hastily tore them off and threw them after her as she was\ncarried away.\n\nWhen, next day, poor little Princess Veronica recovered consciousness\nand was free from pain she asked for her sister, who came quickly to her\nside.\n\n\"Have you heard,\" asked Veronica faintly, \"that I--I--I am maimed for\nlife? With a broken nose and scarred face I shall not only be ugly but\nrepulsive.\"\n\n\"Poor Veronica! You will then be on the same level with me in the\nfuture. How you will miss all the petting, all the love!\"\n\n\"I suppose my life is spoilt. And when I had beauty, I thought of it and\nprized it so little. But won't you love me, Christobel?\"\n\n\"Yes, I will now.\"\n\n\"Why only now?\"\n\n\"Because I shall always feel sorry for you--I have never felt sorry for\nany one but myself before--and I shall love you heaps and heaps.\"\n\n\"Don't you think others may feel sorry for me, too?--Poor Prince Olivin!\nPoor me!\" she added with a little moan.\n\nChristobel shook her head sadly. \"Beauty is everything! You will\nunderstand that now.\"\n\nNo limbs were broken, and in a couple of days Princess Veronica, with\nher head and face veiled in white lace, was able to receive some visits\nof sympathy in her misfortune.\n\nKing Jorum was inconsolable, and whenever he came out of the invalid's\nroom he would vow terrible threats of vengeance on Countess Spinx, who\nwas trembling for her spiteful life in the cells.\n\nOn the third night after the Christmas festivities had been brought to\ntheir sudden and tragic close, Princess Christobel dreamed such a vivid\ndream that it awakened her. She dreamed that Little Love, who avoided\nher whenever he could, came smilingly up to her, kissed her hand, and\nraising a letter he held, showed, with a look of triumph which puzzled\nher, that it was addressed to her sister. She awoke, and instantly\nremembered that Little Love had really kissed her hand that evening, to\nher great surprise. She sat up in bed listening, for she fancied she\nheard her sister call. Becoming anxious for her comfort, she rose, and\nwent gently in to her. It was quiet in the dimly lighted chamber. The\ninvalid lay softly sleeping, her face all bandaged, and her glorious\nhair a mass of gold about the pillow. Under her hand was an open letter.\nTempted by the influence of her dream, Christobel drew nearer. It was\nPrince Olivin's firm writing--there were only a few lines, and the\nmoonlight shone full upon them. She could not help reading:--\n\n     \"Beloved! Think not to release me. It is your sweet nature I\n     love. You. Your beautiful mind. Nothing could ever change them!\n                                                          OLIVIN.\"\n\nWas it joy for her sister? was it some gleam of an unknown sense of\npeace, tenderness, and hope in her soul, that brought scalding tears to\nChristobel's eyes as, half blinded by them, she groped her way back to\nher room, where she fell on her knees and cried softly, and prayed that,\nnow through her tears her eyes had been opened, she might learn to\nbecome different? \"Beauty is _not_ everything, then!\" she repeated\nwonderingly to herself over and over again, finding each time fresh\ncomfort in the thought. \"How wrong I have been! Out of her disfigurement\nVeronica says my love for her has grown, and is worth much to her in\ncomfort. It has brought us close together, and made us both happy. How\ngrateful she is for every one's attention! And now the Prince still\npleads for her! So! it was not her beauty that attracted him--it was not\nher beauty--not her beauty!\" Thus she thought earnestly and long, and it\nbrought her a strange sense of faith in herself and others. \"I shall\ntell them all that I, too, know how truly she deserves her happiness!\"\n\nAnd tell them she did, and they opened their eyes and bowed\nrespectfully, and thought more of Princess Christobel than they had ever\nthought before.\n\nNew Year's Eve came round with its accustomed regularity, and the\ninmates of Cosmopolis Castle were looking unusually grave for the\noccasion. Princess Veronica was to appear once more in their midst, and\nwith the bandages removed from her poor face. It was a silent, uneasy\ncompany that had gathered together in the great ball-room, and King\nJorum, engaged in a game of \"Snap\" with Little Love in a corner, looked\nill and worn from anxiety for his favourite child.\n\nSuddenly the card-players rose, and a thrill of excitement went through\nthe assembly--Princess Veronica stood on the threshold in white muslin\nand blue. Her face showed no trace of scars; but her nose! Her nose was\nunrecognisable. It was no more aquiline, but tip-tilted--the sweetest\nlittle turned-up feature imaginable, and her appearance had actually\n_gained_: Princess Veronica had become the loveliest lady in the land!\n\nAfter being locked in her father's arms Veronica found herself suddenly\nin those of her lover. King Jorum was frantic with delight. He called\nfor Doctor Quick and made him Lord High Druggist of his Majesty's\ndominions, with all the appanages, endowments, privileges, and\nperquisites appertaining to the office. He showered honours on every\nphysician on or near the premises. He talked of bonfires, and of\nhonours, and tiaras all round, until he was hoarse. Then Princess\nChristobel appeared in white muslin and red ribbons, and there were\ncheers for her animated appearance and her kind expression as she\ngracefully returned their greeting. \"Father,\" she said, drawing him on\none side, \"Veronica is asking for Countess Spinx. May I--may I tell the\nprisoner that now all is well she is forgiven?\" King Jorum shook his\nhead vigorously, although he was too happy to do anything but smile all\nthe time. \"She has been in the cells for ever so long,\" pleaded\nChristobel, and her father was so taken aback at the revelation of her\nfine eyes and sweet voice, which had never at any time struck him\nbefore, that he nodded his head violently.\n\nThat evening a stranger was bidden to the feast--no less a person than\nthe great traveller, brother to Prince Olivin, just returned from a\nvoyage of discovery--the bronzed and manly young Duke of Rosenleaf. \"Who\nis that charming young girl?\" he asked, as soon as he set eyes on her.\n\n\"Princess Christobel, your Highness,\" replied Little Love with a sly\nsmile.\n\nKing Jorum couldn't get to sleep that night. He usually slept too much,\nand was in the habit of unscrewing the top of his foot-warmer and\npouring therefrom the hot coffee which he imbibed at intervals in order\nnot to oversleep himself in the morning and thus set a bad example in\nthe land. But he had no need for it to-night. He could not get to sleep\nat all.\n\nHe thought, and thought, and thought what had wrought such a marvellous\nand rapid change in the character and appearance of his elder daughter.\nHe smiled over it, too, and smiled until his cheeks ached with so much\nsmiling, as much as his poor head ached with so much thought. Still he\nwent on thinking right through the night, and just as he put up his\narms above his head to break into a mighty yawn, he suddenly cried--\n\n\"I have it! That's it! She has realised the old theme of Peace and\nGoodwill, as is proper at this time of year, and has turned over a new\nleaf! Bravo!\" And he turned himself over, snored, and overslept himself.\n\nSo the first day of the New Year opened in complete harmony at the Court\nof King Jorum. And when the Duke of Rosenleaf asked Princess Christobel\nif she would make the Happy New Year a happy one for him, she smiled and\nblushingly allowed him to place the prettiest of diamond rings on her\nfinger.\n\nAnd the New Year was still in its youth when the two young Princesses\nwere married. And by the time that the Shah of Persia's\ngreat-great-grand-kittens were gambolling about the palace, it had\nbecome a frequent and pleasant subject for argument and debate\nthroughout the kingdom--\"Who is the most charming and lovable woman in\nthe land, Christobel or Veronica?\"\n\n\n\n\nONE APRIL DAY\n\nPART I\n\nA QUEER GODMOTHER\n\n\nIt was the First of April. The weather could not make up its mind\nwhether to be tearful or gay. So, after changing three times, and\ndeciding at last that it was not grown-up to cry, the sun dried up the\ntear-drops and beamed down on everything and everybody.\n\n\"Isn't it a shame, Wilfrid, to have to prepare lessons when it's such a\nfine afternoon?\" exclaimed Norah. She rose from the study table and\nlooked longingly out of the French window to where the crocuses on the\nlawn seemed to be having the best of it.\n\n\"Don't be lazy,\" replied her brother. \"Just come and help me with this\nsum when I tell you.\"\n\n\"I'm not going to do as you tell me. If you were grown up--say\nfifteen--it would be different; but you're only a year older than\nme--not even nine yet--and yet you----\"\n\n\"Halloa!\" interrupted Wilfrid with a low whistle, as he strolled\ntowards the window. \"Look at that's legs.\"\n\n\"Which's?\" inquired Norah, gazing in the direction he pointed.\n\n\"Them's.\"\n\n\"What's?\" she asked eagerly, looking around.\n\n\"None! Well, you _are_ an April fool!\" exclaimed Wilfrid with scornful\nglee as he resumed his seat; \"that's the second time to-day!\"\n\n\"And you're a very rude boy, and you're not allowed to call me horrid\nnames like that,\" said Norah with dignity; \"and I won't be teased\nalways.\"\n\nWith a very offended look, she set to work on her copy-book.\n\n\"Lend me your paint-box when we've finished our lessons, will you, Norah\ndear?\" said Wilfrid, after a short pause.\n\n\"I can't,\" she replied, without looking up.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I don't know why, but I can't.\"\n\n\"Cat in the manger! You've got nothing you want to paint, as I have.\"\n\nThere was a longer pause, during which they both scribbled away, and\nscratched, and spluttered, whilst their tongues moved silently from side\nto side outside their parted lips, left to right, following the\ndirection of each new line.\n\nThen Norah heaved a sigh and remarked--\n\n\"Wilfrid, isn't Cinderella lovely?\"\n\n\"Yes, as girls go.\"\n\n\"Oh, how I wish we lived in those times, when there were fairy\ngodmothers and things!\" exclaimed Norah rapturously; then she added with\na sigh--\n\n\"Aunt Leonora is my godmother, but she never gives me anything, and the\ngodmothers in the fairy stories always give heaps of things.\"\n\n\"You can't expect great fat podges like that to be like fairy\ngodmothers, you silly!\"\n\n\"But she ought to like giving things. How nice it is to give presents\nand be thanked!\"\n\n\"Yes; it's nice to give presents--when they are cheap. Perhaps,\"\ncontinued her brother in a wise voice,--\"perhaps Aunt Leonora can't\nafford it if she isn't rich!\"\n\n\"Cinderella's godmother never seemed to consider the price of anything.\nI wish--oh, how I wish----\"\n\n\"Oh, how I wish you'd be quiet and help me with this sum. You remember\nyour tables better than I do, but you needn't be jolly cocky about it\nall the same.\"\n\nNorah wasn't listening to him. Her mind was far away from lessons. She\nwas thinking, if she had her choice, what she would like to be, what she\nwould like to do, and eat, and, above all, what she would like to wear.\n\"If only I had a fairy godmother, I----\"\n\n\"Rubbish!\" exclaimed Wilfrid, growing cross, and frowning as he watched\nher moving restlessly about the room.\n\n\"I--of course, I wouldn't refuse her anything. Fairy godmothers\ngenerally appear at first disguised as old women, and ask for something,\nsuch as a drink of water, or beg you to carry a load of wood or whatever\nthey happen to have in hand. So I should be ready to do anything and\ngive anything, and earn my big reward.\"\n\n\"Oh, shurrup!\" growled her brother. \"Much better lend me your\npaint-box.\"\n\nBut she didn't hear him; taken up with her fancies she continued\nexcitedly--\n\n\"I know what I'll do. I'll try and tempt her to come. Perhaps I may even\nhave a fairy godmother without knowing it!\"\n\nAnd she began to dance about, singing--\n\n    \"Tra-la-la, fairy godmother,\n    Come to me now, I pray;\n    Visit a little girl who is longing for you\n    And will do anything you want.\n    Tra-la-la, fairy godmother, come.\"\n\nIt wasn't very good poetry, but Norah hadn't time to polish it up.\n\n\"Oh, I say! How can I do my lessons with all this going on?\" exclaimed\nWilfrid. And flinging his things together he bounced out of the room and\nbanged the door behind him.\n\nNorah wasn't sorry he was gone, and danced once more all round the room\nsinging; then knelt down, and, stretching out her arms towards the\ncrocuses which were so stiff and upright in their indifference, she said\nplaintively--\n\n\"Come, dear fairy godmother, I want you!\"\n\nAnd lo! between Norah and the window there suddenly appeared a little\nold woman in a long cloak, whose features were hidden by the large hood\nshe wore.\n\n\"Oh!\" exclaimed Norah, almost breathless in her astonishment and\ndelight.\n\n\"I have come,\" said the stranger in cracked, quavering tones.\n\n\"I'm so glad to see you,\" replied Norah politely, too excited to feel\nshy.\n\n\"I--your fairy godmother--am here to test you and see if you are really\nworthy. See this slate which I have brought under my cloak. Every little\nlady should be able to do arithmetic right. Can you do this sum?\"\n\n\"How funny, godmother dear!\" said Norah, looking at it. \"We are just\nlearning these. It's a difficult one, but I'll try.\"\n\nIn a few moments she had done the sum and proved it correct.\n\n\"Very good,\" said the fairy, with a grunt of satisfaction.\n\n\"Will you take a drink of water?\" now asked the hospitable Norah\neagerly. \"Do.\"\n\n\"No, thank you. But I may take something else. Tell me, what of all your\ntreasures do you like most?\"\n\n\"Oh, my paint-box!\"\n\n\"I knew it; I am glad you tell the truth.\"\n\n\"How did you know it?\" asked Norah in surprise.\n\n\"I am your fairy godmother. I'll take that paint-box, please.\"\n\nNorah brought it and gave it to her with the greatest pleasure, and\npressingly inquired if she might carry anything anywhere. But that was\nnot required. Then she stood waiting expectantly. And her heart seemed\nto turn a somersault of delight when her fairy godmother spoke the\nfollowing words:--\n\n\"I am satisfied. Now you may wish for whatever you like. But you must\nmake up your mind before I count three.\"\n\nNorah's eyes had followed her glance at the clock, which pointed to one\nminute to three; but her mind, from the flutter of excitement she was\nin, became a complete blank.\n\n\"One!\" said the fairy solemnly.\n\nThis brought the little goddaughter to her senses, and she began to\nmutter confusedly--\n\n\"Shall I wish for a gold carriage, like Cinderella's, or a pet lamb,\nwith a blue ribbon and a bell round its neck, or a frock embroidered in\ndiamonds, or----\"\n\n\"Two!\" said the fairy.\n\n\"No,\" murmured Norah hurriedly. \"If I were a queen, I could order those\nthings and everything else. I wish\"--the clock struck three--\"I were\na----\"\n\n\"Three!\" called out the fairy.\n\n\"----a Queen!\" screamed Norah, just the second after.\n\n\"Too late!\" said the fairy. \"Farewell!\" And she moved towards the door.\n\nNorah's eyes filled with tears. \"Please come back!\" she pleaded.\n\n\"I can't.\"\n\n\"Oh, why can't you?\"\n\n\"I don't know why, but I can't,\" replied the little old woman.\n\nThis sounded strangely in Norah's ears, and what sounded stranger still\nwere the next words she heard uttered; these were simply--\n\n\"Thanks, awfully!\"\n\nThen Norah exclaimed at once, \"That's Wilfrid's voice!\" She pushed aside\nthe hood. \"Why, you're Wilfrid!\" she cried, amazed.\n\n\"And you're April Billy!\" he shouted with glee, throwing off the long\ncloak. \"You said you'd do anything and give anything for a reward, and\nnow you've had to do so without one!\" And, bursting out laughing, he ran\noff with the sum and the paint-box.\n\nNorah sat down on a footstool and burst out crying. She was angry and\ndisappointed, and she sobbed bitterly as she thought how she had been\ntricked into doing Wilfrid's horrid sum, how she had been made to give\naway her treasured paint-box which he had envied for months, and, worst\nof all a thousand times, how she had no fairy godmother after all!\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE LITTLE FLOWER GIRL\n\nBut Norah was a plucky little girl, and at times a wise little girl.\nAnd, moreover, she had a sort of feeling that it all served her right\nfor being silly, and dissatisfied, and too selfish to lend her\npaint-box. Wilfrid certainly was a tease, but he was really a dear good\nbrother, and always lent her his things, and did his best to champion\nher and get her out of a scrape.\n\nStill, she felt she would like to pay him out, all the same--he'd had\nsuch a lovely time being fairy godmother!\n\nSo she decided, like the weather, that it was not grown-up to cry, and\nshe dried her eyes. Then all at once she smiled and laughed outright.\nFor an idea had come to her, which she proceeded to carry out. She\ncertainly began to do some rather queer things.\n\nFirst of all she took off her shoes and stockings. Then she untied the\npink ribbon which kept her hair tidy, so that her curls fell in a\ntowsled mass about her flushed cheeks. Next she took off her pink\noverall pinafore, which she hid away; and gathering her white frock over\nher head, displayed a short red-and-white striped petticoat.\n\nRunning quickly about the room she took all the violets from the vases,\nstrewed some of them in the fold of her frock, which she held together\nin one hand, and put together a large bunch of the flowers for her other\nhand.\n\nThen she stepped through the open window, threw some sand upon her feet\nand ankles, and thus prepared, stood on the path outside, looked in, and\nwaited.\n\nVery soon Wilfrid burst into the room, exclaiming--\n\n\"Come and look at the healthy colour I've painted on your big doll's\npale cheeks. Oh, Norah!\" he added, looking round the empty room.\n\nAnd now he became conscious of a little flower-girl standing on the\ngarden path, and piteously offering him a bunch of violets.\n\nNorah had heard what he had said, and felt vexed that he had dared to\ntouch her big doll; still, she had not the affection for that stately\nlady that she had for the small invalid doll with the broken leg, so she\nonly said--\n\n\"Buy a bunch of violets, sir?\"\n\nHe was a tender-hearted boy, and at once fetched down his money-box from\na shelf in the cupboard, unlocked it, and took out twopence which he\ngave her; but then he felt awkward and refused the flowers.\n\nAn organ in the street started playing.\n\n\"I can dance to that if you can pay,\" said the little girl thoughtfully,\neyeing the money-box.\n\n\"How much do you want?\" he asked.\n\n\"Three shillings,\" she replied boldly.\n\n\"That's all I've got.\"\n\n\"That'll do, then,\" she said; \"I want it so badly.\"\n\n\"Yes, but----\"\n\nNot heeding his protests, she stole into the room and began to dance to\nthe organ, as she had seen the poor children do in the streets, her\nlittle bare feet twirling up slowly and descending with measured steps\non to the soft carpet.\n\n\"Oh, I say!\" soon exclaimed Wilfrid with dissatisfaction; \"my sister\nNorah can dance better than that, for nothing!\"\n\nNevertheless, he felt bound to empty his money-box into the hand she now\nheld out.\n\nSolemnly she made him a little bob of a curtsey. Then she began to caper\nabout the room in a very different sort of spirit. And then, catching\nhold of the astonished boy round the neck, she kissed him.\n\n\"Hi! Shurrup!\" cried Wilfrid, disengaging himself and looking sheepish.\n\n\"Oh, you April goose!\" sang Norah; \"April goose--you're an April goose,\nMaster Wilfrid!\" And she uncovered her head and shook back her curls.\n\n\"Halloa!\" exclaimed Wilfrid, ruefully at first, and then added more\ncheerily--\n\n\"Ha! Do you think I didn't know you all the time?\"\n\n\"Did you really?\" inquired his sister, her eyes wide open with surprise.\n\n\"No, I didn't,\" he replied curtly.\n\nThen Norah's arm stole round her brother's neck, and she put the money\ninto his pocket, and told him gently that she had only wanted to have a\nlittle bit of fun, and he was welcome to use her paint-box--only please\nnot on her dolls.\n\nThen Wilfrid told her that she was a jolly good sort; and that after\nall it was a shame to tease her, as she couldn't fight him for it. And\nNorah hugged him, and they both laughed about how well they had\n\"pretended\" to one another.\n\nThe sun was shining still, and when the children romped on the lawn the\nstuck-up crocuses didn't have the best of it, after all.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORM THE TEAPOT BREWED\n\n\nIn a bright nursery, hung with pictures, the table was laid for tea.\nUpon an iron tray, which had seen much service--even military service,\nas a drum used by the nursery band--stood the tea-set. This set included\na very large cup which belonged to Nurse, bearing the funny inscription,\n\"I am not greedy, but I like a lot.\" The other cups were also lettered\nin gold. One hailed, it declared, \"From Margate,\" and showed the pier as\na proof. Another, a small one made of porcelain, wished \"Many Happy\nReturns to Effie\" every time she looked at it. A thick, fat cup\nproclaimed itself \"A Present to Daniel,\" and a mug bore the perpetual\nreminder that it was \"For a Good Boy\"--but it was cracked, so it didn't\nlook quite happy, perhaps because the reminder was not always capable of\nkeeping the boy good.\n\nThe Kettle completed the party, but sat comfortably on the warm hob next\nthe fire, drowsily singing snatches of song, in the knowledge of having\ndone his duty in giving the thirsty Teapot a drink of water. So all was\nready for tea except the children. Nurse had gone to collect them, when\nthe Chinese Teapot, who always liked to appear important, suddenly\nexclaimed--\n\n\"What a noise that Kettle is making, to be sure! One could scarcely hear\none's self rattle if one wanted to.\"\n\nThe Kettle, ignoring the protest, sang on--\n\n    \"Just now we were quiet,\n    No noise and no riot,\n    You could hear a bread-plate drop--Flop!\"\n\n\"We used to have a very nice English teapot once,\" remarked the\nPorcelain Cup.\n\n\"I remember,\" replied her neighbour from Margate. \"He came from\nWorcestershire. He was a big pot, and thought himself no end of a\nswell.\"\n\n\"What! Kettle-time already!\" exclaimed the Tongs, yawning and stretching\nhis legs.\n\n\"A nice sort of life it is for one of my grade and standing,\" grumbled\nthe Teapot, \"to be surrounded by such a set of ugly, foreign mugs and\nthings as you all are!\"\n\nThere was a general rattling of displeasure at the insult, but it was\ndrowned by the Kettle, who could see a joke, singing up merrily--\n\n    \"If there's a fuss--if a Pot should allude\n      As a 'mug' to a China Cup,\n    There's always a clatter\n    Of jug, plate, and platter,\n      Till somebody washes them up.\"\n\n\"It's disgraceful to go on like this!\" complained the Milk-jug, looking\nrather broken-down about the handle.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the Teapot with a sneer, \"when one only dates from 1887, and\nhasn't a handle to one's back, one should retire to the seclusion of the\ncupboard, and remain there as a curio.\"\n\n    \"There was once a Jubilee Jug-gins,\n    Jug-jug-juggins,\"\n\nhummed the Kettle.\n\n\"Poor old crock!\" said the Sugar-basin sweetly, melting with pity\nthrough all her composition. For she was his inseparable companion, and\nknew that the Milk-jug was full of human kindness, and useful still.\n\n\"Never mind the quarrelling, darlings,\" whispered the gentlemanly Spoons\nto their lady friends, whom they had taken in to tea, \"we will protect\nyou.\"\n\n\"Upon my word!\" exclaimed she from Margate, \"I'm glad _I_ was not born\nin China. Where I come from rudeness is unknown.\"\n\nThe Kettle took up the idea and sang gaily--\n\n    \"They're pottery, porcelain, colour, and gold,\n      They come from the china shop,\n    Where crockery's bought, and the customer's sold,\n    And the Bull galloped in so angry and bold,\n    And when the poor, terrified shopkeeper told\n      Him to go, he did nothing but stop.\"\n\n\"You ought to have a will of iron if you're made of the right stuff,\"\nshe continued, addressing the Tray; \"you ought to keep order, but you\nsay nothing and do less.\"\n\n\"You see, he's only a waiter--slow and unpolished,\" added the Teapot\nspitefully.\n\n\"My view, if I may express it--\" broke in the Cup from Margate.\n\n\"When I want your view, either of Margate or of politeness,\" retorted\nthe Tray, interrupting the remark, \"I'll ask for it. If I'd the chance\nI'd drop the whole lot of you, and get friendly with a new set, that I\nwould!\"\n\nWhereupon the irrepressible Kettle chirruped--\n\n    \"Then he'd pay the expense of the mender's bill--\n      The mender is Doctor, you see--\n        Who makes out an order,\n        A matter of sawder\n      And rivets, cement, and a fee.\"\n\n\"You're always brewing mischief!\" said Nurse's Cup angrily to the\nTeapot; \"there'll be no peace for any of us where you are.\"\n\n\"That's true!\" screamed out the little Tea-leaves inside the pot; \"he's\nalways getting us into hot water.\"\n\n\"I'll draw the tannin out of the whole ounce of you! You're about as\nsensible as mortals who haven't the wit to understand us. But when we\ngo cracked like Muggins over there, or stony broke like the Juggins\nnext to him, or get smashed up altogether with age or lack of care, they\ntake notice of us at last, and then there is a mighty fine fuss.\"\n\nAt this the Kettle, getting somewhat out of breath from his exertions,\nbubbled out in a high key--\n\n    \"They're Wedgwood, Staffordshire, Japanese too,\n      They're a breakable lot, we know;\n        When any one cracks any,\n        Chelsea or Saxony,\n      Dresden, or Worcester, or Bow,\n        They make as much shindy\n        As if a big windy\n      Was shivered to bits by a blow.\"\n\nThe Teapot went on: \"Those people are amusing, too; they think we ought\nto last for ever, when they can't do it themselves.\"\n\n\"A couple of chatterpots!\" exclaimed the Nurse's Cup. \"Dear me! What\nwith your spouting, and his showing off once he begins to sing, you're\nenough to wear one out!\"\n\n\"_Dear_ you, indeed!\" returned the Teapot; \"_cheap_ you! Why, you were\ngiven away with a pound of tea! Shouldn't be surprised at all!\" he\ncontinued, watching Nurse's Cup become speechless with indignation.\n\"But, spouting aside, I could tell you a thing or two.\"\n\n\"Or three--or four--or five--or--\" The Kettle might have sung on into\nbillions had he not begun to choke over it, and splutter, and gurgle.\nThen he grew vexed, and snorted, and got angrier and angrier, until\nfinally, in order to breathe more easily, he knocked his lid on one\nside, and began to boil with rage.\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" laughed the Teapot mockingly. \"The old fellow's getting his\nsteam up. Pray don't de-range yourself, sir, on our account. He, he!\nHe's getting water on his nob!\"\n\nThis didn't seem to comfort the Kettle much.\n\n\"What do you think about it, Spoonies?\" added the Teapot. But the Spoons\nheeded him not. They were conversing quietly in couples, and didn't care\nto be drawn into argument. So he turned his attention elsewhere, bent on\nbrewing discord. \"People are so thoughtless,\" he complained, turning a\ncold shoulder to the others. \"Muggins, my boy, I'm beginning to get\nquite chilly; just go and fetch my cosy coat.\" He knew this was an\nimpossibility, and he only said it in order to pick a quarrel. But,\nnoticing a distant Plate who was openly laughing at him, he cuttingly\nremarked: \"Seen the plumber, lately?\" Now, the Plate happened to be\nsuffering severely from rivets, an infirmity which she vainly tried to\nhide, and which she hated to be noticed. So, getting no reply, he\nadded, \"I presume that your plumbago is better.\"\n\nThe Kettle was now puffing and spitting to such a degree that it was\ndifficult to imagine he was the same jolly fellow who had been singing\nso good-temperedly all the time.\n\nAnd the Teapot was content. He had gained his object, and the whole set\nfelt as though they had been wiped the wrong way, when suddenly noisy\nvoices were heard outside.\n\nThe nursery door was opened, and in burst Fred, home from Margate\nSchool, followed by gentle little Effie; and Nurse, vigorously\nprotesting at being pushed forward in jerks by Bob. Poor, long-suffering\nNurse, as usual, was not having at all a good time with the three\ntroublesome boys. Daniel had clambered on her back, and was trying to\npull off her cap. Bob--who was not nearly such \"A Good Boy\" as his mug\npretended--slily untied her apron-strings. The apron dropped, and Nurse\ntripped over it, jerking Daniel on to the floor; and she would have\nfallen too had she not just saved herself by clutching the table.\n\n\"Cr-cr-crikey!\" clattered the China on the tray in alarm.\n\n\"Bless those boys!\" cried Nurse, as she replaced her apron; but they\nonly laughed. Effie was helping to put her cap straight when the\nKettle, unable to contain his feelings any longer, marked his\nindignation by hissing disapproval and then boiling over. Nurse rushed\nto his aid, and altered his position so that he couldn't see all that\nwent on. He recovered himself at once.\n\nBustling into their chairs, they all sat down to tea, and at the sudden\naction the whole tea-set rattled to arms, some standing at attention.\nThe Spoons, stirred by the children's hands, began knocking the sides of\nthe Cups, dealing them blows right and left, and ringing out their\nresounding protests.\n\n\"Here's a 'stranger'!\" exclaimed Effie, taking a tea-leaf out of her\ncup. \"Who will it be?\"\n\n\"A horrid foreigner, miss--a little black Indian,\" replied the Teapot,\nturning up his spout with scorn, and giving a vicious squeeze to the\nothers he held prisoners.\n\n\"I know who it is!\" said Bob, tilting back his chair, then suddenly\nsteadying himself by grasping the table. This was a troublesome habit of\nhis, which drew Nurse's usual reminder.\n\n\"What's his name?\" asked the others eagerly.\n\n\"_I_ know--it's a secret,\" replied Bob mysteriously.\n\nAt this a loud argument began.\n\n\"My lid! Who's making the noise now?\" the Teapot cried. \"Pray don't\nupset your precious selves.\"\n\n\"I think it must be Mr. Manners who is the stranger,\" exclaimed Nurse,\nputting her hands to her ears to shut out the tumult.\n\n\"No!\" shouted Bob. \"I'll tell you--his name's Mr. Tea-leaf!\" And he\nlaughed triumphantly.\n\nAs the other children raised their voices to declare it was very unfair,\nBob swung back on his chair again.\n\n\"Oh!\" screamed Nurse in a fright, making a grab at the table. But she\nwas too late!\n\nBob had already made a grab at it when, with a _Swish! Bang!_ he tumbled\nover backwards, dragging the cloth with him, and everything upon it. And\nthe crockery lay around, all broken to atoms!\n\nIn the moment of hushed alarm that followed, the Tray rolled away,\nexclaiming in triumph: \"I've got rid of them at last! I said I would\nwhen I got the chance!\" And the Kettle, gazing at the wreckage, sang on\nserenely and merrily--\n\n    \"There's been such a fuss, such a storm has been brewed,\n    There's no cups for the tea, and no plates for the food;\n    The cleverest doctor may puzzle his wits,\n    But he never can gather and rivet the bits!\"\n\n\n\n\nMONICA THE MOON CHILD\n\nI\n\nTHIS SIDE OF THE MOON\n\n\nIt was one of those late afternoons in winter when the countryside looks\nvery white, very still, and hushed to sleep under its coverlet of\nsnow--just the time when the bright fire at home is thought of with\ndelightful longing. The gentleman who drove the phaeton that was bowling\nalong the frosty road must have thought so too, for he cracked his whip\nso smartly that it sounded loud in the silent landscape, startling the\ncob to a more hurried remembrance of his snug stable.\n\n\"Not very far now, Doctor,\" he remarked to the friend who sat next to\nhim. \"Home soon, Toodleums,\" he added, turning towards a big bundle of\nshawls at the back of the carriage.\n\n\"I'm in no hurry, Papa,\" replied a childish voice; \"I call this lovely!\"\n\n\"Quite warm, eh?\"\n\n\"Quite, thank you, Papa.\"\n\nThe bundle, answering to the name of Toodleums, was Monica--her father's\nconstant companion. She was an only child. Her mother had always been\ndelicate, and Monica was not allowed to be much with her. She even\nforgot that the invalid at home was ailing rather more than usual\nto-day, and that their long drive was to fetch her old friend the Doctor\nfor his opinion, for she was listening with so much interest to an\nexplanation which her father was giving of the new airship he had\ninvented. He was still describing his successful trial trip, when Monica\nnoticed that the moon and stars seemed to have assembled all at once to\nmake a night of it. Never before had she driven out after dark, and soon\nshe became all absorbed, in a state of muffled-up rapture, at the\nunusual sights and aspect of mystery about.\n\n\"Hi! Toodleums, do you hear? What do you say to going up with me in my\nairship next time I go? Will you come?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" she answered eagerly; \"I'll come, Papa.\"\n\n\"You're not afraid of bumping up against the moon?\" asked the doctor\nplayfully, leaning over to pat her cheek. And both gentlemen laughed.\nMonica didn't answer. She didn't know if she was being made fun of or\nnot.\n\nAt last they were in the hall at home, amidst the lights and bustling of\nthe servants. As no one seemed to notice her, Monica took herself up to\nthe nursery. She had dressed there near the fire, and the boxes and\nthings had not been tidied away. Monica stared around, thinking this\nvery unusual, and was just beginning to feel uncomfortably lonely when a\nlittle wrinkled old woman with very bright eyes hurriedly trotted in.\n\n\"Oh, Grandnurse,\" exclaimed Monica, \"no one is looking after me. How's\nMamma?\"\n\n\"Much better, Dearie. But I'm wanted downstairs; can you spare me,\nPoppets? Put yourself to bed, and I'll be back directly with your hot\nmilk.\" Without waiting for an answer she bustled into the adjoining\nnight nursery, where Monica heard her busily opening and shutting the\ngreat cupboards.\n\nThe cheery old body was called Grandnurse because she had been in the\nfamily for ever so long--so long as to have become, as it were, a member\nof it. Passing through the nursery again she stopped and said--\n\n\"What would my Poppets say to a little sister, I wonder! A tiny new\nbaby!\"\n\n\"Oh, Grandnurse!\" And before the old woman could hurry out of the door\nMonica sprang forward, her face all aglow with excitement, and holding\nher tight by the arm cried all in a breath--\n\n\"Is it true? Where is it? When's it coming? Who's going to bring it?\"\n\n\"Patience; I can't wait now. Let me go, Dearie,\" said Grandnurse,\ndisengaging herself from the little girl.\n\n\"But is it true?\"\n\n\"Quite true.\"\n\n\"What will it come in?\"\n\n\"A bandbox, of course,\" answered Grandnurse, laughing gaily as she went\nout of the room.\n\n\"Can I fetch it? When can I fetch it?\" persisted Monica, following her\ndownstairs.\n\n\"When there's a blue moon. Now go back, there's a dear.\"\n\n\"Yes, but who's going to bring it?\"\n\n\"Don't ask me--ask the man in the moon,\" said the little old woman over\nher shoulder in a hushed voice as she disappeared down a dark passage of\nthe large house.\n\nMonica, standing there, laughed a little scornful laugh. \"Ask the man\nin the moon, indeed!\" she muttered. \"As though there were one! She often\nsays that, but I'm not so silly as to believe it.\" And full of thought\nof the new little sister she re-entered the nursery.\n\nThe heavy curtains had not been drawn, and the moon was looking at her\njust as it had done during the drive. How lovely it was, that drive! She\nwent to the large window seat and curled herself up in her favourite\ncorner. Outside it looked so cold and white that she drew the curtain\nclose around her with a little shiver.\n\n\"Can Grandnurse really think there is a man in the moon?\" pondered\nMonica as she gazed up at it; and confusedly she thought on: \"I wonder\nif there is, after all. Can he be going to bring the baby? I should so\nlike to know, and when, or who is going to--I wish he'd tell me--perhaps\nif I were to ask--who spoke about bumping up against the moon? Ah!!\"\n\nMonica had conceived a grand idea. Quietly she stole to the table,\nsnatched up the empty hatbox which ought to have been tidied away, and\nthen--and then she crept stealthily downstairs--everything was\nquiet--stealthily out into the night she went. Now she was in the great\nshed, where the airship was--quite an old friend. She had seen her\nfather start on his journey in it, and had heard it all explained. The\nprecious bandbox was placed in the car, and the next moment Monica was\nbeside it. She touched a button. The great structure moved. She held her\nbreath, and her heart thumped surprisingly. Then she clapped her hands\nwith delight--the airship slowly moved forward out of the shed, and when\nshe pulled a lever thing, close at hand, she was soaring like a bird\nright out into the night, soaring right up towards the heavens. She was\ngoing to ask the Man in the Moon to be kind enough to give her the new\nbaby she had come to fetch.\n\n[Illustration:_She was soaring like a bird right out into the night_]\n\nHow cold and crisp the air was! Monica was glad to have on her coat and\ncap of fur. Higher, higher she went until she lost consciousness of\neverything except the cold and a sense of loneliness.\n\nAnd the airship rose upwards, upwards, carrying its pretty burden with\neyes fast closed, and the curly brown head lay helplessly low, supported\nby the staring white empty bandbox.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBump! There was a crunching noise as of carriage wheels on a gravel\npath. The airship was aground on something, and Monica realised she must\nget her wits about her. She quickly pushed back the lever thing and the\nnoise ceased, the movement also.\n\nIn the brilliant light, like sunlight, Monica saw she had alighted on\nsome rocks, whilst round about was nothing but mountains, craters,\ncaverns, and awful stillness. There was not a creature about, nor a sign\nof anything living. It was dreary to a degree.\n\n\"Wherever am I?\" exclaimed little Monica. She scrambled out of the car,\nand slung the bandbox on her arm--somehow there was company in that.\nAbove her a moon was shining--not _the_ moon she was accustomed to see,\nbut one about four times larger, as though suffering from a swollen\nface, with a pattern on it like the map of Europe.\n\n[Illustration: _Round about was nothing but mountains, craters,\ncaverns_]\n\n\"That does look queer,\" she muttered aloud. \"Bumped against the moon!\"\nshe thought to herself unconsciously. For now she remembered her father\nhaving told her what the earth must look like from there; and she\nrealised that she had reached her destination, and was actually walking\nabout in the moon, and that the larger moon was really the earth. This\nfact was so exciting that she sat down to consider it, enjoy its\nimportance, and decide what to do.\n\nShe determined to go on, and so she rose and went gaily forward, the\nbandbox swinging from her arm. But it was very difficult walking, steep\nand rocky.\n\nAt last she found herself in a large plain of broken stones--\"much in\nwant of a steam roller,\" thought Monica as she bravely hobbled\nalong--and all around were caves.\n\nOut of the largest one of these there emerged a tall and majestic\nfigure, which, to her astonishment, slowly glided sideways towards her,\nwrapped in a cloudy drapery. Then Monica was convinced; and she no\nlonger had any doubt whatever but that there was a Man in the Moon, and\nthat this was he. So very slowly did he advance that she had plenty of\ntime to recover from her surprise, and went forward to meet him and\nintroduce herself.\n\nHis steely blue eye had a peculiar cold beam in it as he said--\n\n\"I bid you unwelcome! Are you not frightened?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the child. \"Why should I be? I've done no harm.\"\n\n\"Do you call coming here no harm?\" All the time he never stopped still a\nsecond, but kept gloomily mooning about, his profile with its protruding\nnose and chin in sharp outline always turned towards her.\n\n\"I've come to--to fetch--\" stammered Monica, chilled by her reception.\n\n\"You're a trespasser! You're evidently a poacher, too,\" he added,\nglancing angrily at the bandbox. \"Begone!\"\n\n\"But, please sir, do tell me----\"\n\nWith a warning gesture the Man slowly raised his arm till its cloud-like\ndrapery hid his face, and he disappeared.\n\n\"Dear me! I don't like him a little bit!\" murmured Monica, staring\nvacantly about, and found that where he had stood there was a big board\non which in big letters was inscribed--\n\n  +-------------------------------------+\n  | TRESPASSERS WILL BE MOONSTRUCK.     +\n  |                           BY ORDER. +\n  +-------------------------------------+\n\nAt the sight of it Monica quickly took refuge in the smallest of the\ncaves.\n\n\"Who are you?\" said a voice; and as soon as her eyes had become\naccustomed to the gloom she saw a queer creature resembling a great toad\nswathed in a long white beard.\n\n\"Whoever you are,\" said the quaint inhabitant, \"I'm too blind to see\nyou. Just lead me to the further corner, there's a good trespasser.\"\n\nMonica did not quite like being talked to like that, but she held out\nthe bandbox and, supporting himself by it, her new acquaintance limped\nto where he was led and sat down.\n\n\"Thanks, and many of them. It's not so draughty here,\" he said.\n\n\"Have you been long in this cave?\" asked Monica.\n\n\"A few thousand years or so--I can't tell to a minute,\" he mumbled. \"But\nwho are you, my dear? By birth, of course, a Lunarian, but not by\naccent.\"\n\nMonica mentioned who she was. Whereupon he became quite talkative, and\nbegan telling her about the moon, but only what she had read in her\nlesson books.\n\n\"Have you a House of Parliament?\" she asked, anxious to glean useful\ninformation. She had recently been to hear her father speak in theirs\nat home, and was very proud of that.\n\n\"We've only a moonicipality, you know,\" said her strange companion,\nrambling on until he became quite drowsy. Emboldened by his kind manner,\nshe told him why she had come, and begged for his advice. To her dismay\nthe only reply she got was a series of the loudest snores she had ever\nheard. He was sound asleep.\n\n\"Do tell me what I had better do,\" she implored, and she shook and\npinched him till he awoke.\n\n\"Get on the right side of him, and don't bother me,\" croaked the old\ncreature, and snored louder than ever. Delighted at the hint, Monica\ncame out on to the plain, and saw the Man gliding slowly on, sideways,\nas before. He frowned heavily on seeing her there, and seemed speechless\nwith indignation.\n\n\"Get on the right side of him,\" repeated Monica to herself as she made a\ndart forward to do so. This proved unsuccessful, for just then he turned\nso blue that she stopped, wondering if he was getting a fit.\nGrandnurse's words, \"When there's a blue moon,\" suddenly occurred to\nher, and she knew that now was her chance. She took courage in his\nslowness, and without looking at him a second time she rushed, stooping\nlow, into a very small cave on the other side of him.\n\n\nII\n\nTHE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON\n\nIt was not a cave at all. It was an arbour, the beams of which were\nmoonbeams, so that Monica stepped straight through into it and sat down\nupon a bench.\n\n\"Evidently the moon is not made of green cheese, as Grandnurse always\nthought,\" pondered Monica with the pride of the discoverer. \"I must\nremember to tell her that.\" And she was just tying a knot in her\nhandkerchief to remind herself when she was startled to hear a musical\nvoice say--\n\n\"Are you aware that you are on the wrong side of the moon?\" It belonged\nto a tiny figure no bigger than Monica's doll, dressed like a lady\ngardener, with apron, straw hat, and big gloves.\n\n\"The little blind man in the cave told me it is the right side for me,\"\nreplied Monica politely.\n\n\"Oh!! He's never done so before. But if Toady told you that, then no one\ncan blame the Gardeness. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I am Monica.\"\n\n\"It's a strange name. Some parents have queer fancies. You are the first\nmoon child who has ever come back. How you have grown, to be sure; I\nshouldn't have known you!\" When she heard Monica's errand and had\nrefreshed her memory as to where she lived, she remarked with surprise,\n\"We've had an order for one to be sent to your address to-day. We\nalways forward to customers' houses. But people _never_ come and fetch\nthem. It's a most unheard-of proceeding!\" added the little lady with a\ntoss of her pretty head. \"Where's your check?\"\n\n[Illustration: _A tiny figure, no bigger than Monica's doll_]\n\n\"Cheque? Have I got to buy it? I've just spent all my money on a new\ndoll,\" said Monica, her eyes filling with tears, \"and now I might have\nbought the new baby instead!\"\n\n\"We're on the check system here,\" said the little lady, smiling. \"Come\nwith me and I'll show you round, then you'll see what nonsense you're\ntalking.\"\n\nMonica brightened up, and they proceeded down a trim gravel path that\nhad a moonstone wall on either side and a big door at the end.\n\n\"Who are you, please?\" asked Monica as they went along.\n\n\"Where you come from, clever people call me Selene. Here, I am the\nGardeness.--Your pass check,\" she added in a business-like way. \"To\nOrder or Bearer--which do you want?\" The child hesitated. \"You want to\norder a baby, I suppose?\" The Gardeness was becoming rather impatient.\n\n\"Oh yes, I've come to fetch it.\"\n\n\"But you can't have a cheque to Order and Bearer at the same time.\"\n\n\"Can't I?\" inquired Monica plaintively. \"How can I take it, then?\"\n\n\"That will be my business,\" whispered her companion mysteriously; then\nadded loudly: \"The little ones are being checked in the Counting House\nnow. Be quick, or the pick of the choice will be gone.\"\n\n\"To Order,\" faltered Monica.\n\nWhereupon her companion pushed the great door, which swung open, and the\nquaint pair quickly passed through. \"They are always on order,\" remarked\nthe Gardeness as she led Monica up a high flight of steps, \"but we\nforward them in our own way. Excuse my question; it was a matter of\nform.\"\n\nNow they were in the loveliest garden ever seen, and Monica gave a\nlittle sob of delight as she noticed that all around about her in every\nflower nestled the dearest, wee-est little baby imaginable, whilst\nhundreds of tiny creatures were tending them, drying the dew-drops from\ntheir big round eyes, and turning their little bald heads for more air,\nall the while humming a refrain which Monica recognised as her Mother's\nfavourite one, called the \"Bee's Wedding.\"\n\nAt first she marvelled silently at the beauty of the scene. Then, as she\nbasked in the pervading warmth, she remembered having been surprised at\nseeing the moon and sun out at the same time, and now realised the moon\nwas sunning its garden of babies.\n\n\"I've brought my bandbox,\" she remarked, laughing gaily.\n\n\"That's a good thing,\" replied her companion, \"as it has to be a private\ntransaction. Stoop down,\" and she drew Monica closer to the rows upon\nrows of the beautifullest roses, gently moved the petals of one of them,\nand revealed embedded in the heart of the rose its own sweet little\nbaby.\n\n[Illustration: _Rows upon rows of the beautifullest roses_]\n\nThen the Gardeness told Monica with infinite pride about the flower\ninfants under her care. To her visitor's remark on their resemblance to\neach other, she replied touchily, \"I suppose you've seen many girls\ncalled Rose, who were alike when born, but they differ enough later!\nIt's the same with the rest.\"\n\nThe Gardeness pointed out to her the children with the names of Lily,\nDaisy, Sweet William, and others, all borne up by their especial flower;\nher own flower, the Gardenia; and the Marigold's Mary; and told her how\nin some flowers the children imbibe their tastes from their\nsurroundings. Thus, as they strolled around, Monica heard that the\nDandelion turns out too foppish a child: that amongst the wild oats the\nharum-scarum boys develop: that the Blue Cornflower babies remain true\nto their liking for farinaceous food: and in Love-lies-bleeding, little\nCupids are born.\n\nMonica went through the vegetable garden and saw the turnips, where the\nnoses of the infants looked so funny. \"They generally take a dislike to\nvegetables later on,\" explained the Gardeness; \"now those over there,\"\npointing to a bed of 18-carrots, \"are as good as gold. But we must not\nlinger here. You shall have a peep at the orchard, and visit the\nCounting House; then you must be quick and make your choice.\"\n\nIn the orchard were only boy babies, some sweet-tempered, others sour.\nThe Gardeness wouldn't recommend a gooseberry one, for it was apt to\ngrow up silly. There were some rosy, apple-cheeked ones, but they looked\n_all_ cheek. Little gipsy-faced babies peeped with black eyes from out\nof the blackberry bushes; whilst in the fruit and nut trees close by\nwere many pairs of hard-headed little twins, all Philips and\nPhilippines.\n\n\"There's no time,\" observed the Gardeness, \"to visit the Indian garden,\nor the Chinese, or the others; I should like to have shown you some\nquaint little baby girls called Peach Blossom in the Japanese garden.\nBut after all, I suppose you prefer an English one? They are generally\nchosen according to climate.\" And seeing Monica smile and nod, she\nhurried her off to the Counting House.\n\nMonica had not been considering at all what she should choose, for she\nhad lost her heart to that first little Rose baby.\n\nVery soon they reached their destination--a long, low building.\n\"Listen!\" said the Gardeness, drawing her to an open window. \"They are\nactually quarrelling over it again!\" There was a fearful hubbub going on\ninside, above which could be distinguished--\n\n\"If one times six is six--six times one must be one! So that fat infant\nweighs more than one and six!\"\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed her guide, \"a stupid wrangle! No wonder that complaints\narise, and that the children don't always arrive at their destinations\nin time. It causes no end of bother. Pass in!\" The noise ceased, and in\nthe enormous room hundreds of babies freshly gathered from the garden\nwere being numbered and ticketed by a regular little army of miniature\nhospital nurses, who received instructions from their superiors standing\nbehind the counter. As she entered, Monica heard that No. 47,859,056--a\ndear little Indian baby--was to be forwarded to some strange-sounding\naddress in Calcutta, where it was expected in 27 days, 7 hours, 48\nminutes, and 11.5 seconds (very business-like, but it would have been\nsimpler to say that day next month, for it was a lunar month).\n\nAs it was carried away, Monica and her guide followed and entered the\nPacking and Forwarding Department, and saw it wrapped up in cabbage\nleaves, packed in one of the numerous bandboxes which lined the walls,\nand gently warned that if it cried much it would crack its voice. Then\nthe box was labelled \"FRAGILE! WITH CARE!\" and put down a trap-door in\nthe floor, where it disappeared from view.\n\nThe babies were being brought in rapidly, packed with all despatch, and\neach received advice, such as, to sleep as much as it could after the\njourney; when bored, to suck its thumb; to try and get its own way\nwhenever possible; and when it disapproved, to express the same in the\nusual manner.\n\nImmediately they got outside the Gardeness advised Monica, as her\nparents were well-to-do, to choose a set of twins, which were not\nwelcome everywhere, and thus save them being planted on a poor family,\nfor they had to be got off somehow, so were always sent (as if by\nmistake) where least expected. But Monica mentioned her choice, and\nbegged very hard for it. So the Gardeness took the bandbox from her,\nbade her wait behind a tree, and with that little toss of the head went\nto gather the Rose baby which had been sent for in so unheard-of a way.\nMonica waited there so long that she became very anxious.\n\nAt last the Gardeness returned, pale and out of breath, hurriedly warned\nher not to let in any cold air on to the child, which was packed all\nsnug and comfortable in the bandbox, and, above all, to make all speed\nor she would meet some one she wouldn't like, showed her a short cut to\nthe boundary, kissed her hand, and was gone.\n\nMonica, trembling all over with excitement, hastened away with her\nprecious burden, the difference in weight being scarcely perceptible.\nShe ran quickly towards the spot where she had left the airship, quickly\nplaced her treasure and herself inside, and had just touched the \"drop\nspring\" when the Man in the Moon appeared, approaching slowly. His face\nwas turned fully towards her, and looked quite different from what it\nhad been before, calm and expressionless. But she did not trust it, and\nwas thankful when she pushed off and felt the airship was moving away.\nFeeling safe at last, Monica smiled in triumph; with one hand she raised\nher bandbox on high, with the other she waved a farewell. Then the Man,\nas if in protest, lifted his arm so that his face once more was hidden\nin gloom.\n\nAnd Monica felt herself dropping, dropping rapidly into the blackness of\nthe icy cold night.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nShe was thinking: \"My book says that no one on earth has ever seen the\nother side of the moon, so no one knows what on earth is on the other\nside of it. That's why Grandnurse couldn't answer my questions\nproperly--and the Man wouldn't. Perhaps even he has never seen the\nGarden of Babies, as he was far too tall to enter that small cave. How\nlucky I found it all out for myself!\"--when, with a great start she came\nto earth and confusedly recognised the lighted windows of her home. How\nshe got the airship back into its shed and how she entered the nursery\nwindow she never quite remembered. Throwing back the heavy curtain from\nthe window seat, without noticing Grandnurse, who was in the room,\nMonica took off her coat and cap, hurriedly placed them in the\nnight-nursery, ran back, and peeped eagerly under the lid of the bandbox\non the table. It was empty!! \"Goodness gracious me, Missie!\" cried\nGrandnurse. \"Not put yourself to bed yet!\"\n\n[Illustration: _The Man lifted his arm so that his face was once more\nhidden in gloom_]\n\n\"Oh, Grandnurse, what _have_ you done with the new baby?\" asked Monica\npiteously, great tears brimming over her eyes.\n\n\"They must always be unpacked at once, you know, without a moment's\ndelay. Come and see, my Poppets, for I'm sure you won't rest without,\"\nadded the kind old woman, leading her away.\n\nAnd there, in a dressing-room, in a bassinette, already cosily asleep\nbut still sucking its thumb, Monica beheld with rapture the tiny Rose\nbaby she had chosen in that lovely garden high up in the moon--in\nCloudland far away.\n\n                                  THE END\n\n\n                     Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.\n                     Edinburgh & London\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"The Rainbow Book: Tales of Fun & Fancy","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":61202}