{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_57662/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_57662","id":"gutenberg_57662","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/57662","summary":null,"tags":["Boston (Mass.) -- Juvenile fiction","Boys -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Mary Glenn Krause, Chuck Greif, amsibert and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                    IT\u2019S YOUR FAIRY TALE, YOU KNOW\n\n                       ELIZABETH RHODES JACKSON\n\n\n\n\n                            [Illustration:\n\n                            It\u2019s Your Fairy\n                                 Tale\n                               You Know\n\n                       Elizabeth Rhodes Jackson\n\n                                Boston\n                         B. J. Brimmer Company\n                                 1922\n                                   ]\n\n\n                            _Illustrated by\n                          L. E. W. KATTELLE_\n\n                            COPYRIGHT, 1922\n                       BY B. J. BRIMMER COMPANY\n                   First Impression, November, 1922\n\n\n                PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n                          AMBROSE PRESS, INC.\n                            Norwood, Mass.\n\n\n                            TO MY CHILDREN\n\n                        WINIFRED        RALPH\n                        FOSTER          KINGSBURY\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n   I. The Wishing Stone                                                1\n\n  II. The Pixie Starts It                                              8\n\n III. The Pixie\u2019s First Task                                          14\n\n  IV. Wendell Finds an Unexpected Ally                                22\n\n   V. A Frog Somewhat Out of the Common                               30\n\n  VI. The Story of the Enchanted Maiden                               38\n\n VII. Wendell Works the Midnight Spell                                44\n\nVIII. Cousin Virginia has a Caller                                    52\n\n  IX. The Breaking of the Charm                                       58\n\n   X. In the Giant\u2019s House                                            66\n\n  XI. The Cloak of Darkness                                           73\n\n XII. Blind Man\u2019s Buff with the Giant                                 77\n\nXIII. The Cap of Thought                                              83\n\n XIV. The Magic Book                                                  89\n\n  XV. A Choice of Charms                                              96\n\n XVI. The Happy Family                                               102\n\nXVII. Sammy Tries His Hand                                           108\n\n\n\n\nIT\u2019S YOUR FAIRY TALE, YOU KNOW\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE WISHING STONE\n\n\nThe children\u2019s room of the Library was very still. Once in a while a\nmurmur arose at the delivery desk, or some squeaky-shoed small feet\ncrossed from open shelves to reading table. Occasionally a helpful child\nleaned across to another and whispered, \u201cThat\u2019s a dandy book. Have you\nread the rest of them?\u201d But all of these minor sounds were blended into\nthe general effect of stillness and seclusion; and they did not even\nreach the ears of a small boy named Wendell, who bent over a large\nvolume on one of the low round tables. He did not hear the footfalls nor\nthe murmurs; he knew nothing of the rumble of traffic that rose through\nthe windows; he was not even conscious of gathering dusk, though the\nlibrarian began to snap on lights in dark corners. Wendell read on and\non, giving an excellent imitation of a bookworm.\n\nAbsorbed as he was in his book, you probably picture him as a slight,\npale little chap, somewhat underweight for his ten years, with pale\ncheeks, a bulging brow, large horn spectacles, completely immersed in a\nvolume of Emerson\u2019s Essays. Not at all. He had a round, brown face, a\nstrong, lithe body, excellent arm and leg muscles, and nice brown eyes\nthat were in unusually good condition because he never overworked them\non school books. He had never opened Emerson\u2019s Essays in his life, and\nthe large volume that just now held his attention so completely was a\nbook of fairy tales.\n\nWendell never read anything but fairy tales, unless it happened to be\n\u201crequired reading\u201d at the select school for boys that he attended. In\nfairy tales he reveled. He read them in bed with the light on at night.\nHe read them before breakfast and thus made himself late at school. He\nhid them behind his geography in study periods. He took them to Sunday\nschool till his teacher found it out. He read them in the street when he\nwent on an errand and greatly irritated traffic policemen by trying to\ncross the street, reading. Altogether, it was proverbial in Wendell\u2019s\nfamily that he could always be kept out of mischief by a fairy tale. But\noh! what low marks he did get in school!\n\nFor he didn\u2019t like to study. He liked baseball and swimming and\nroller-skating, but he didn\u2019t like the capitals of the United States,\nnor dates, nor fractions. Particularly he didn\u2019t like fractions.\n\nThoroughly entranced, he read on till another boy reached across in\nfront of his page to get a book lying on the table. The interruption\nroused him. He glanced up, saw that the lights were on and the afternoon\nwaning, reluctantly rose and returned his volume to the shelves, and\nsauntered out with two books of fairy tales under his arm.\n\nHe strolled through the upper corridor, with an approving glance at the\ngreat panel of the Muses, who looked to him like fairies on a large\nscale; but his goal was the delivery room at the other end, with its\nwonderful paintings of Sir Galahad and the Quest of the Holy Grail,\nillustrations de luxe of one of Wendell\u2019s favorite folk tales. Long he\nlingered over Sir Galahad arriving at the Castle of the Maidens, and\nlong he gazed on the old spellbound king. He sighed deeply as he left\nthe room at length. Oh, to have lived in those days!\n\nThrough a cross street he hurried along to the Esplanade. Here was fairy\nland indeed, had Wendell but had eyes to see it! The sunset glow had not\nyet faded from behind the classic buildings on the river front, and twin\nnecklaces of lights were strung between city and city. But it all seemed\nto the boy depressingly modern and unromantic. No suggestion to him of\nfairies or giants or witches or wishes. He walked along, still under the\nspell of his Library reading, regretting that there was not enough light\nto read as he walked, hurrying home to open his fairy books.\n\nFrom the Embankment, he turned into an old-fashioned street on\nthe slope of Beacon Hill, and began to climb the heights. His\ngreat-great-grandfather had lived on that street, in Wendell\u2019s present\nhome, in the early days when fashion first built up the Hill. His great\ngrandfather and his grandfather and his father, in turn, had lived there\nthrough many changes, as fickle fashion turned to newer avenues. As\nWendell paused in front of his house,--a stern, square front, with a\ndoor whose solidity and heavy brass knocker and sentinel sidelights gave\nthe impression that it had been put there to keep people out instead of\nto let them in,--he was hailed by a friend across the street.\n\nSammy Davis\u2019 father had a name that ended in _idsky_ when he lived in\nRussia; but after he came to America and moved into one floor of the\ndecadent mansion next to Wendell\u2019s, the family had decided to give an\nAmerican twist to the name. So Davis it had become.\n\nSammy Davis crossed to Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhere yer been?\u201d\n\n\u201cLibrary.\u201d\n\n\u201cGet a book?\u201d\n\n\u201cYep.\u201d\n\n\u201cLessee it.\u201d\n\nSammy reached for the two books, grabbed them. Wendell grabbed in turn.\nPerfectly willing he was, of course, to show Sammy the books, but who\ndoesn\u2019t resent having things grabbed? Sammy ran across the street;\nWendell followed, chased, ducked when Sammy dodged. There was an upright\nstone post at the inner edge of the sidewalk, barring vehicles from\nentering a narrow blind court that opened opposite Wendell\u2019s house.\nSammy dodged behind this, then out again, ran around in a circle and\nback to the post to dodge once more, then ran out again, then back to\nthe post. The chase was prolonged and I suppose that they encircled that\npost a dozen times.\n\nWhen Wendell at length secured both books, he vaulted up and sat on top\nof the post, which was roughly hewn and small on top and not so very\ncomfortable. Still, you _could_ stick on.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll tell you, Sammy,\u201d he said. \u201cYou come over to-night, and we\u2019ll each\nread one--oh Jehoshaphat!\u201d He had suddenly remembered his home work,--a\ndouble allowance of fractions because he had failed to-day.\n\n\u201cMake it to-morrow night, Sammy,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve got home work\nto-night.\u201d\n\nA window on the fourth floor above was raised, a frowsy head stuck out.\n\u201cSammee!\u201d called a strident voice. \u201cCome in and eat.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo long. Sorry to leave you,\u201d said Sammy, and departed upward, while\nWendell sat and mused on the post. Once more he drifted away into\nmemories of fairy tales. At length he shook himself with a heartfelt\nthough silent, \u201cGee whiz! I wish I were living in a fairy story right\nnow, here in Boston,\u201d and slid down and went in to dinner.\n\nWendell\u2019s family consisted of his father and mother and two older\nbrothers, Alden and Otis. Just now there was also a visiting relative,\nCousin Virginia, a sprightly young lady from New York, who tolerated\nBoston because it was only five hours from her delightful home town. She\nseemed to live in a constant state of amusement at things that\nWendell\u2019s people didn\u2019t consider funny at all. Her greeting this time to\nWendell was,\n\n\u201cWell, Ralph Waldo Theocritus Shakespeare, how\u2019s the Public Library\nto-day?\u201d\n\nWendell didn\u2019t see anything funny in that. He grunted.\n\n\u201cDid you happen to see that interesting new volume of correspondence\nbetween Socrates and Lady Jane Grey?\u201d\n\nWendell didn\u2019t even know that this was intended to be funny.\n\n\u201cI was reading fairy stories,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cShocking!\u201d said Cousin Virginia. \u201cA descendant of the Puritans!\u201d\n\n\u201cAs to that,\u201d broke in Wendell\u2019s brother Alden, who was a Junior at\nHarvard, specializing in Original Sources, \u201cthe Puritans had some\nimagination. Look at witchcraft. Look at the Wishing Stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat wishing stone?\u201d asked Cousin Virginia. \u201cI\u2019ve seen the kind they\nset in a ring on a girl\u2019s third finger. Do you mean that kind?\u201d\n\nThis bit of levity fell flat.\n\n\u201cThe Wishing Stone,[A]\u201d said Alden, \u201cwas a projecting boulder in the\nCommon, somewhere near the present junction of the Beacon Street mall\nand the Oliver Wendell Holmes walk. There was a tradition that if one\nwalked or ran nine times around the stone and then stood or sat on it\nand silently made a wish, the wish would come true.\u201d\n\n[A] Winsor\u2019s _Memorial History of Boston_, vol. I., p. 554.\n\n\u201cAnd here you\u2019ve shown me all the sights of Boston and left that out!\u201d\ncried Cousin Virginia. \u201cWhy, it\u2019s much more interesting than Bunker\nHill Monument. Let us hie us thither by moonlight as soon as we finish\ndinner. Careful, Wendell; if your eyes _should_ pop right out, you\ncouldn\u2019t put them back.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe stone,\u201d said Alden, \u201cis no longer there.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, where is it, Alden?\u201d cried Wendell.\n\n\u201cAccording to the early diarists,\u201d returned Alden, \u201cmost of those\nboulders on the Common were used for building stone from time to time. I\ndoubt whether its history could possibly be traced.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, why couldn\u2019t they hang on to it when they had it?\u201d said Wendell\nin deep disappointment. Then he went up to his room to do his home\nwork,--that sad double lot of fractions.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE PIXIE STARTS IT\n\n\nOf course, Wendell\u2019s intentions were excellent. He fully meant to devote\nhimself to that home work, to forget the fairy stories that still hung\nlike a mist about his brain and tackle those fractions like a man. But\nwe all know how it is,--just as soon as we have looked at this one funny\npage of the newspaper, or read this one verse, or found out what the\nnext chapter is about, we will certainly settle right down to business.\nThere was the arithmetic. There were the two fairy books from the\nLibrary. Unless you are a seraph with wings and always do your duty, you\nwill not be surprised to hear that Wendell treated himself to just one\npeek at the fairy stories before doing his home work, and that he never\nthought of those fractions till he heard his mother\u2019s step on the\nstairs, when he shoved the fairy book into his desk drawer and opened\nhis arithmetic at random.\n\n\u201cBedtime, my son. Have you finished your lessons?\u201d asked his mother.\n\n\u201cNo! Bothersome lot! Can\u2019t make anything of this example--have to give\nme another half-hour,\u201d muttered Wendell, not really wishing to deceive\nhis dear mother, but a little bit ashamed to tell her how he had\nneglected his duty.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, dear, but you\u2019ll have to do it in the morning. You mustn\u2019t\nlose sleep. And your brain will be clearer then. I\u2019ll tell Jane to call\nyou half an hour early.\u201d\n\n\u201cMany are called, but few get up,\u201d as the proverb hath it. Wendell, next\nmorning, was not one of the few. Jane\u2019s call fell on sleepy ears. He\nturned over for one more snooze, woke an hour later to find himself \u2018way\nbehind time, hustled through his dressing and his breakfast, and was off\nto school with lessons unprepared,--a sad thing that happened only too\noften in his easy-going life.\n\nHe managed to slide through most of his recitations, badly but not\ndisgracefully, until he came to the arithmetic class. I might tell you\nin detail of his tragic floundering through problems that he was\nsupposed to have prepared, of his guilty acknowledgment that he had not\nmade up the delinquencies of yesterday and the day before, and of the\nstern wrath that was visited upon him by the arithmetic teacher, a\nstrict and disciplinary spinster, whose patience he had often tried in\nthe past. But this is not a school story. I have to record only such a\npart of his troublous career as led directly to the wonderful adventure\nof the Wishing Stone. So, briefly, he was \u201ckept in,\u201d with three days\u2019\nproblems to finish before he could go home.\n\nHis teacher, who bore the singularly happy name of Miss Ounce, left him\nalone in the deserted school-room. She had a lesson to give in another\npart of the building. Wendell pulled his book in front of him, flipped\nthe pages open to the proper place, ran his fingers through his hair,\nand remained in that attitude, which may have denoted either deep\nconcentration or utter dejection. He read the first problem through\ntwice, and it had no more meaning for him than Dante\u2019s Inferno in the\noriginal tongue.\n\n\u201cJee-rusalem!\u201d he said aloud after a long pause.\n\n\u201cCan I be of any assistance?\u201d asked a friendly voice. It came from a\nlittle being perched on the desk in front of him, who certainly had not\nbeen there a moment before. He was about the size of a two-year-old\nchild, but he had the face of an old man, a genial old man with\ntwinkling eyes. His body was very round and quite filled his suit of\nblue knitted jersey, and his arms and legs were long and spindling.\n\n\u201cFor goodness\u2019 sake, who are you?\u201d gasped Wendell.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m a Pixie,\u201d said the being.\n\n\u201cYou are?\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI didn\u2019t know there were any--out of fairy\nstories.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I\u2019m _in_ a fairy story,\u201d explained the Pixie politely. \u201cI\u2019m in the\nsame fairy story you\u2019re in.\u201d\n\n\u201cAm I in one?\u201d said the startled Wendell.\n\n\u201cSince last night,\u201d declared the Pixie. \u201cYou wished to be, you know, on\nthe Wishing Stone, after you had run around it nine times. It\u2019s a sure\ncharm.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Wishing Stone! Is that the old Wishing Stone--the alley post?\u201d\n\n\u201cSomewhat fallen into disuse,\u201d assented the Pixie, \u201cbut never-the-less\nthe Wishing Stone.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I never!\u201d said Wendell.\n\nIt was so stupendous, such an unbelievable piece of good fortune, that\nat first he did not grasp its possibilities. Then his eye fell on the\nopen book lying on his desk.\n\n\u201cSay!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cIf that\u2019s all true, if I\u2019m really living in a\nfairy story, there ought to be some way of settling junk like this in\nshort order.\u201d He gave a vindictive thump to the arithmetic.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s what I came for,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cI thought I saw a business\nopening here.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean--\u201d faltered Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhy, I\u2019ll do your problems for you. That\u2019s easy. And you do three tasks\nfor me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it\u2019s always three,\u201d said the Pixie.\n\n\u201cSay, I think I ought to get more than just these problems for three. I\nthink you ought to do my home work till the end of the term.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust as soon,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cNo trouble to me. Is it a bargain?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what will you want me to do?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what I want you to do,\u201d returned the Pixie. \u201cHow should I\nknow? Take a chance. Be a sport.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI will. Here are the problems.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook in your desk,\u201d said the Pixie immediately.\n\nWendell opened it. There lay three sheets of large pad paper, covered\nwith problems completely solved. Wendell\u2019s name and the date were\nwritten at the top in his own handwriting. The work was done neatly\nenough to pass, but not so excessively neatly as to arouse suspicion.\n\n\u201cWell, you are some little fiend at arithmetic,\u201d pronounced Wendell with\ngreat relief.\n\n\u201cGlad you are satisfied,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cOf course you understand that\nif you can\u2019t perform my tasks, you belong to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I might as well belong to you as to Miss Ounce,\u201d ruminated\nWendell. \u201cCome on with your first task. I suppose it will be water in a\nsieve from the Charles River or something like that. They always are.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should say not,\u201d said the Pixie with scorn in his voice. \u201cThat might\nbe all very well for the old Kobold that lives under Flag Staff Hill.\nIt\u2019s just his style, in fact. He\u2019s using the same stuff he did when\nMerlin was practicing. No, I like to advance with the best thought of\nthe time. I\u2019m no back number. Trust me, _I_\u2019ll find something up to\ndate.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, speed up,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cWhat do you want me to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I know?\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cGive me time. I\u2019ll drop around\nto-night and let you know.\u201d\n\nJust as he was speaking, the door opened, and in came Miss Ounce, and\nmaybe Wendell didn\u2019t jump! He started so conspicuously that Miss Ounce\nfixed him with an accusing eye and said,\n\n\u201cWell, Wendell, up to mischief, I suppose, instead of doing your work.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, Miss Ounce,\u201d said Wendell, noting with relief that the Pixie was\nnowhere in sight, and promptly handed over his papers.\n\n\u201cUm, um!\u201d murmured Miss Ounce. \u201cVery good! Might be neater. Every one\nright, though. Now, Wendell, why is it that when you can do such\nexcellent work as this, you have such a shocking daily record? Yes,\n_shocking_ is the word.\u201d\n\nWendell knew the answer to that, but he didn\u2019t give it. He took his\nlecture silently, standing first on one foot and then on the other, but\nhis mind was on the magic task that the Pixie was to set him, and as\nsoon as he could he slid out of the room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE PIXIE\u2019S FIRST TASK\n\n\nThe Pixie came that evening, true to his word. Wendell, undisturbed by\nfractions, luxuriously idling over his fairy books, looked up suddenly\nand there sat the funny little fellow on the foot of the bed.\n\n\u201cHow are you?\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cI didn\u2019t have time to say good-bye\nto-day. Your Miss Ounce turned the door-handle too quickly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s all right,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cAre you ready to spring my first task\nyet?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, _sir_,\u201d said the Pixie gleefully. \u201cAnd you can\u2019t say it isn\u2019t up\nto the minute. You must bring me an aeroplane that you have found\ntraveling underground.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, there\u2019s no such thing,\u201d said Wendell vexedly. \u201cAn aeroplane\ntraveling underground! How silly! An aeroplane doesn\u2019t travel\nunderground. How can it?\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t ask me,\u201d shrugged the Pixie. \u201cHow should I know? You can\u2019t\nexpect me to make up the tasks and think up the answers too. Be\nreasonable.\u201d And he vanished.\n\nWendell was greatly cast down.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a fool task,\u201d he said as he went to bed. \u201cIn fact, it\u2019s\nimpossible.\u201d\n\nHe woke with a sense of calamity hanging over him. Really, it was almost\nas bad as having fractions on his mind. He was so serious at breakfast\nthat Cousin Virginia asked him if he was practicing to be a Puritan\nAncestor at a fancy-dress ball. This levity seemed to Wendell ill-timed.\n\nThe brooding anxiety lingered with him all through school time. What if\nhe couldn\u2019t do the task? What would it be like to belong to a Pixie? He\ndidn\u2019t like the prospect.\n\nHe came out of his school on Beacon Street, still with the cloud\nlowering over him. He felt desperate. He thought of going over to the\ntrain yards of South Station and stealing a ride in an empty cattle-car\nbound for the prairies of the West. He meditated stowing away on a ship\nbound for Timbuctoo or Guam or somewhere. Just then a tempting truck\npassed him \u201csouth\u201d-bound on Beacon Street. It was low and it was going\nslowly, and altogether it offered just the right opportunity to \u201chook\u201d a\nride. Wendell seized the opportunity and the truck together; and dodged\ndown inside unseen by the driver.\n\nIn Allston, Wendell dropped out again. His mind was somewhat relieved by\nthis pleasant adventure, and he didn\u2019t wish to get too far from home. He\nhailed an electric for Park Street.\n\nNow, you may not believe it, but the first thing he saw when he got on\nthe car was an aeroplane--a toy aeroplane about four feet long, carried\nin the arms of a freckle-faced boy.\n\nWendell sat down by the boy.\n\n\u201cDoes it go?\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cSure it does,\u201d said the freckle-faced boy.\n\n\u201cHow?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cYou wind it up,\u201d said the boy.\n\nIt was apparently a perfect model of a large aeroplane, a fascinating\ntoy. The freckle-faced boy let him hold it, let him examine it closely.\nIt was a joy to see such a perfect mechanical model on that small scale;\nbut suddenly it brought a leaden lump to Wendell\u2019s heart. It reminded\nhim of his impossible task.\n\n\u201cWhere you taking it?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cHome. I live in Medford.\u201d\n\n\u201cChange at Park Street?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cScollay Square,\u201d said the boy. They were now opposite the Public\nGarden.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll bet it can travel,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve said it,\u201d replied the boy. \u201cBut,\u201d he added, grinning, as the\nelectric sloped down into the Subway, \u201cthis is the first time it ever\ntraveled underground.\u201d\n\nWendell nearly bounced from his seat. \u201cSay!\u201d he almost yelled. \u201cWhat\u2019ll\nyou take for that aeroplane?\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t want to sell it,\u201d said the boy. \u201cI just got it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if you should sell it,\u201d persisted Wendell.\n\n\u201cBut I ain\u2019t a-goin\u2019 to sell it,\u201d said the freckle-faced boy.\n\n\u201cBut if you ever _should_ want to sell it,\u201d reiterated Wendell. \u201cSay,\nthere\u2019s something, you know, you\u2019d rather have.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know. What, f\u2019r instance?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll give you anything you like for it,\u201d offered Wendell, who was\nrapidly formulating a plan in his mind. \u201cWouldn\u2019t you like a gun, now?\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve got a gun,\u201d said the boy.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you want a dog?\u201d pleaded Wendell.\n\n\u201cIs it a trick dog?\u201d asked the boy.\n\n\u201cDo you want a trick dog?\u201d questioned Wendell.\n\n\u201cYes, I do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it is a trick dog,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cJust you get out here,\u201d for\nmeantime they were nearing Park Street, \u201cand I\u2019ll show him to you. I\nlive right near here.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat tricks can he do?\u201d asked the boy.\n\n\u201cYou wait and ask him,\u201d said Wendell.\n\nOnce out of the Subway, Wendell left the boy on a bench on the Common,\nand sprinted across the green expanse, in spite of the official sign,\n\n     KEEP OFF THE GRASS\n    IF YOU WANT TO ROAM\n      JOIN THE NAVY\n\nHe shot around the corner of his street, circled the Wishing Stone\nrapidly nine times, climbed on top of it and said to himself,\n\n\u201cI wish for a trick dog that will do any trick you tell him to.\u201d\n\n\u201cWoof! Woof!\u201d said an ingratiating voice near him, and there was the\ndog. He was of no special breed, just a lost-dog breed of mongrel, but\nhe had the look in his eye that means a dog will do anything in the\nworld for you if he loves you.\n\n\u201cSit up and beg, old fellow,\u201d commanded Wendell, and the dog sat up with\nan excited little bark.\n\n\u201cHeel,\u201d ordered Wendell, who had no time to lose, and the two chased\nexcitedly through the streets to the Common, and there, to Wendell\u2019s\nrelief, waited the impatient boy with his aeroplane.\n\n\u201cHere he is,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cHere\u2019s your trick dog.\u201d\n\nThe freckle-faced boy looked him over critically.\n\n\u201cHe ain\u2019t much to look at,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Wendell, \u201cyou didn\u2019t say you wanted him to take a prize in\na beauty contest. You asked for a trick dog.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can he do?\u201d asked the boy.\n\n\u201cYou just try him,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cDead dog!\u201d said the freckle-faced boy.\n\nThe dog dropped flat and rolled over motionless. He didn\u2019t even blink an\neye.\n\n\u201cLive dog!\u201d said the boy, and up he jumped and frisked and wagged and\nwas very much alive.\n\n\u201cIs that all he can do?\u201d asked the boy.\n\n\u201cNo, he can do any trick,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI don\u2019t know \u2019em all myself.\nHe knew \u2019em when I got him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019d you get him?\u201d asked the boy suspiciously.\n\n\u201cGiven to me,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cLet\u2019s have the aeroplane.\u201d\n\nThe boy hesitated. Perhaps he was afraid that the dog had been stolen or\nfound by Wendell, and might soon be claimed by the police. But the dog\nhimself settled the question. He jumped up on the freckle-faced boy and\n\u201cwoof\u201d-ed engagingly; and when the freckle-faced boy stooped to pat him,\nhe licked the boy\u2019s freckles so warmly and wetly and scratchily and\nlovingly that the boy hastily handed the aeroplane to Wendell and\ngathered the dog right up in his arms; and the bargain was complete.\n\nWendell had a few pangs himself. The dog had found a warm place in his\nheart too. But he consoled himself with the reminder that he could wish\nfor another just like him any time. And he had the aeroplane.\n\nHe took it over to the parade ground on the other side of the Common,\nand tried it out. It flew beautifully. On its own merits, apart from\nWendell\u2019s need to satisfy the Pixie\u2019s demand, it was a very desirable\npossession.\n\nIt struck Wendell as strange that, whatever adventures the Wishing Stone\nhad thus far brought him, seemed to increase the number of things he had\nto wish for. He had never yearned for an aeroplane before, but now it\nseemed to him that he couldn\u2019t bear to part with this one to the Pixie.\nOf course, he had often thought he would like a dog; but now that the\nWishing Stone had brought to life this wagging, barking, loving morsel\nof a pup, Wendell was almost unhappy without him. He wondered if it\nwould be that way all the time,--if every granted wish would produce\nmore ungranted ones. If that were so, it would really be happier not to\nbegin the endless chain, not to have the first wish granted. That was\nthe way it turned out in a good many of the fairy stories,--the black\npudding, for instance, on the end of the old woman\u2019s nose.\n\nA great truth was almost within Wendell\u2019s grasp for the moment,--that it\nis not the attainment of a wish, but the effort to attain it that brings\nus happiness: that right activity, not idle possession, is man\u2019s\nhappiest endowment. Wendell had his finger on this key to happiness, but\nas he was only a small boy flying a toy aeroplane, and not a great\nphilosopher, he did not grasp the key, but let his thoughts wander to\nthe Pixie, who would probably be all ready with another task after\ndinner.\n\nWhen the Pixie suddenly appeared that evening (sitting this time on top\nof the chiffonier, with his thin long legs drooping over the drawers),\nWendell said triumphantly,\n\n\u201cWell, I got the aeroplane.\u201d He stroked it lovingly where it stood\nbalanced on his desk.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes, it\u2019s an aeroplane, all right,\u201d granted the Pixie; \u201cbut it\nisn\u2019t traveling underground.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it was when I found it,\u201d protested Wendell. \u201cA boy had it in the\nSubway.\u201d\n\nThe Pixie looked crestfallen.\n\n\u201cI never thought of that,\u201d he admitted. \u201cYou win.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me all about it,\u201d he added with some curiosity.\n\nWendell told him the whole thing, but the Pixie looked grave when he\nmentioned the Wishing Stone.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re not using them up too fast, are you?\u201d he said doubtfully. \u201cThat\nmakes two, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo what?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhy, two wishes. You only have three, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that a fact?\u201d asked Wendell anxiously. \u201cI didn\u2019t know. Is that\nstraight?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cEverything goes by threes in fairy\nstories.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019m afraid you\u2019re right,\u201d said Wendell gloomily.\n\n\u201cI know I am,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cWell, are you ready for the next task?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right. What comes next?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nWENDELL FINDS AN UNEXPECTED ALLY\n\n\nThe Pixie brightened a bit. \u201cI have a poser this time,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\nmust find an acorn on Acorn Street.\u201d\n\nIt was Wendell\u2019s turn to look crestfallen. As every Beacon Hill boy\nknows, Acorn Street is only one block long, or rather one block short,\nand there isn\u2019t an oak on it. In fact, there isn\u2019t a tree of any kind:\nthere isn\u2019t room for one.\n\nThe Pixie looked delighted, but he tried to assume a nonchalant air to\nhide his triumph. He swung one knee over the other carelessly and tilted\nhis chin.\n\n\u201cWe-ell!\u201d said Wendell, a bit discouraged. But the thought came to him\nthat in every fairy story the knight who passes the first of three tests\nalways squeaks through the other two also, so of course there must be\nsome way out.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll have to be going,\u201d said the Pixie in an offhand way. \u201cYou\u2019ll find\nyour arithmetic paper in the desk drawer. See you to-morrow night.\u201d\n\n\u201cHold on,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cYou forgot the aeroplane.\u201d\n\n\u201cForgot it? How?\u201d\n\n\u201cAren\u2019t you going to take it along?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood gracious, no,\u201d returned the Pixie peevishly. \u201cI can\u2019t take care of\nall the truck I tell people to bring me. I don\u2019t run a junk shop. Keep\nit yourself. I don\u2019t want it.\u201d\n\nNow that was great luck for Wendell. It brought a large amount of\npleasure into an existence which would otherwise have been most\ncheerless; for the unsolved problem loomed before him of finding an\nacorn on Acorn Street.\n\nHe chose to go through Willow Street on his way to school next morning,\nwhich brought him of course to the head of Acorn Street. There was the\nneat little sign fastened on the brick wall,--a bunch of three acorns\nand the name in artistic lettering,--evidently the creation of an artist\nbrain and fashioned by a master hand. Wendell had an inspiration. He\nwould cut out one of those acorns and take it to the Pixie as a last\nresort. Of course, he might be arrested and put in jail for mutilating a\nstreet sign; and after all his trouble, the Pixie might not consider it\nan adequate acorn; still the suggestion was something to fall back upon.\n\nStanding at the top of the extremely steep slope which is Acorn Street,\nWendell surveyed the prospect doubtfully. He saw a narrow cobble-stoned\nroadway; on his left, a trim row of doll houses, each with its\nprojecting doorstep and old-fashioned scraper, its spotless white door\nand shining brass knocker, and a narrow brick sidewalk where two thin\npeople could just walk abreast; on his right, a long brick wall, broken\nby neat back doors, and a still narrower brick sidewalk where only one\nvery thin person could walk abreast. Nowhere was there a tree, nor room\nto plant a tree. There were a few straggling blades of grass between the\ncobble-stones and between the bricks, but not a crevice large enough to\naccommodate a single acorn.\n\nA postman came along, whistling cheerily. Wendell stood off the brick\npavement to let him pass. Perhaps the postman could help.\n\n\u201cThis is Acorn Street, isn\u2019t it?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cSome people call it that,\u201d responded the postman jokingly.\n\u201cMillionaires\u2019 Alley, _I_ call it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, are they all millionaires here?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cJust about,\u201d said the postman; \u201cand I knew this street when there were\nthree families in every house, and the walls that black with dirt, you\ncould write your name on \u2019em in chalk. But these millionaire artists\ndiscovered it. Nuts, I call \u2019em, with their glass studios on the roof\nand their Packard cars that have to back out whenever the ice truck\ncomes through.\u201d\n\nWendell felt that they were wandering from the point.\n\n\u201cBut did you ever see an acorn here?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNope,\u201d said the postman. \u201cNo acorns here. They named it that, I guess,\nbecause it isn\u2019t big enough to be named for a full-grown tree like\nWalnut or Chestnut. Peanut Street _I_\u2019d call it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ve got to get to school,\u201d said Wendell. He jogged down the\nshort but precipitous length of treeless Acorn Street, and so on to\nschool.\n\nAfter school, as he started for home, the Public Garden tempted him, and\nhe turned in from Beacon Street. It was a warm October day, and the\nGarden wore an air of resuscitated midsummer. He sat down on a bench on\nthe Charles Street side, facing the lake, which looked very attractive,\nalthough it was no longer bright with the little boating parties and\nslow-gliding swan-boats of summer. A flock of doves, seeing Wendell\nsettled to stay, fluttered down all around him for expected crumbs; and\nsome busy little sparrows, who are always more alert than the doves and\ncapture twice as much food, hopped along the path. Wendell felt in his\npockets for stray provender, but without results. A gray squirrel,\nbright-eyed and bushy-tailed, loped through the rustling leaves, and ran\nup the bench that Wendell occupied. He had a very busy air as of one who\nstops for a moment only, in the midst of pressing engagements. A slight\ninadvertent movement of Wendell\u2019s sent him scurrying down again. He\nfrisked through the dead leaves, dug up something of interest from among\nthem and sat up on his hind legs to handle it. Wendell saw that it was\nan acorn and noticed that he was sitting under a young oak. \u201cPity they\ncouldn\u2019t plant a few of them where they belong,\u201d he said bitterly.\n\nAfter the squirrel\u2019s desertion, he sat there a few minutes longer, but\nthe pigeons, too, soon found that he had no picnic to offer them and\nflew off in a flock to a small girl with bare knees, accompanied by a\nFrench-bonneted nurse, who had a whole bag of popcorn. He got up, then,\nand, kicking the leaves before him, shuffled out to the wide entrance at\nCharles and Beacon Streets.\n\nA traffic policeman, very military-looking in trim khaki, was holding up\nthe Charles Street traffic while automobiles spun up and down Beacon\nStreet. Wendell, pausing on the curb, saw him suddenly check the Beacon\nStreet traffic, while still holding the Charles Street lines at bay. The\nlarge square expanse was quite clear except for the khaki figure with\nboth arms uplifted. Charles Street truck-drivers prepared to speed up.\nBeacon Street automobilists craned their heads out to see what was\ndelaying the long double lines. Foot passengers lining the curbstones\nlooked impatient and watched the traffic man for the signal that did not\ncome. Apparently he had forgotten what he was there for.\n\nThen a smile spread along the curb-stone ranks,--a smile that merged\ninto a ripple of laughter quite unusual among self-contained Boston\npedestrians, as the impatient waiters saw that the majestic khaki\nofficer was holding up scores of important citizens to let one small\ngray squirrel cross the street.\n\nIt was Wendell\u2019s little friend of the Public Garden, still intent on\npressing business, who, unmindful of all safety-first rules, was taking\na diagonal cut from corner to corner across one of the busiest\nthoroughfares of Boston.\n\n\u201cI know that squirrel. He lives in Louisburg Square,\u201d Wendell heard a\nman say. \u201cI know him by the look in his eye.\u201d Which shows how cocksure\nof their own judgments some people are.\n\nThe squirrel made the farther corner in safety. The traffic man gave the\nsignal. The crowd surged forward, Wendell with them. He crossed by right\nangles to the squirrel\u2019s corner and saw that busy little beast frisking\nalong Charles Street, with the deliberate purpose of one who knows his\ngoal, and then turning up into quiet Chestnut Street.\n\nWendell followed him, as it was his direct route also; but it was not\nuntil the squirrel turned from Chestnut Street into West Cedar Street\nthat Wendell saw with fast-beating heart that he carried in his mouth an\nacorn for his winter storehouse. If the squirrel should--oh, if only he\nshould--! Yes, opposite Acorn Street he paused. It was evident that he\nhad intended to proceed along West Cedar Street to Mount Vernon Street,\nwhich bounds Louisburg Square on the nearer side; but on the door-step\nof a West Cedar Street house sat a cat, a sleek gray pussy, and when she\nsaw the squirrel, she grew tense all over and began to quiver,\ncommencing at the tip of her tail; and the squirrel saw her--_and turned\nup into Acorn Street_.\n\nWould he drop it? oh, would he? Would no yapping puppy come to the\nrescue? Would no tidbit of garbage tempt him to investigation? No, Acorn\nStreet appeared deserted by man and beast. Its aristocratic spotlessness\noffered no hope of a bread crust or even a banana peel.\n\nBut just then one of the spotless white doors opened. A baby girl\nemerged right in the path of the squirrel. He was not alarmed: baby\ngirls had been a bountiful providence to him since his infancy. But this\nbaby was a determined little maiden whose brain and hand worked in\nunison. Quick as thought she grabbed the squirrel\u2019s beautiful bushy\ntail, and quite as quickly she loosed it, for the little gray chap\ndropped his acorn and turned his sharp teeth upon that plump little\nhand. Then, as he felt himself free, he scurried up the hill without\nstopping for anything, and turned westward toward Louisburg Square. When\nWendell passed through the Square, the acorn safe in his trousers\npocket, the squirrel was still chattering excitedly on the branch of a\ntree, scolding every one in particular and in general for the loss of\nhis acorn.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s a shame, old chap,\u201d said Wendell, pausing to peer at him through\nthe iron railing. \u201cBut I\u2019ll bring you a bag of peanuts to make up for\nit, you old life-saver, you.\u201d\n\nThe Pixie wore an air of quiet triumph when he appeared in Wendell\u2019s\nroom that evening. So did Wendell.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cDo you give up this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot this time,\u201d said Wendell, quietly but with great enjoyment, and he\nfished the acorn out of his pocket and laid it on the desk in front of\nthe Pixie, who glared at it savagely.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Wendell, \u201care you satisfied?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes,\u201d said the Pixie, ironically. \u201cIt\u2019s an acorn. I know an acorn\nwhen I see one, thank you. But there aren\u2019t any oaks on Acorn Street.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: SHE GRABBED THE SQUIRREL\u2019S BEAUTIFUL BUSHY TAIL]\n\n\u201cI know it. But a squirrel brought it all the way from the Public Garden\nand dropped it there. I saw him.\u201d\n\n\u201cA common or garden squirrel?\u201d asked the Pixie incredulously.\n\n\u201cGarden--when I saw him,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cBut he might live on the Common\nfor all I know.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome nutty squirrel,\u201d said the Pixie dejectedly, \u201cto block my game that\nway!\u201d He sat fingering the acorn as if he hoped it would turn into\nsomething else.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d he said, brightening suddenly. \u201cBut I\u2019ve thought of something for\nthe third test that\u2019s a _sticker_.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it? A postage stamp?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t feel so funny, young man, when you know what it is,\u201d said the\nPixie, glaring.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nA FROG SOMEWHAT OUT OF THE COMMON\n\n\n\u201cI suppose it\u2019s a beacon from Beacon Hill,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cNow, that\u2019s not bad,\u201d conceded the Pixie. \u201cI may use that some time.\nNo,\u201d triumphantly, \u201cit\u2019s a frog from the Frog Pond.\u201d\n\n\u201cJe-hoshaphat!\u201d exclaimed Wendell. \u201cYou\u2019ve got me this time.\u201d\n\nThe Pixie grinned. \u201cI certainly think so,\u201d said he.\n\nFor if ever a frog made its lair in the Frog Pond, it was long before\nthe present memory of man. The Frog Pond is a pool on the Beacon Street\nside of Boston Common. In shape it is somewhat like a lima bean. It has\na concrete bottom. Near one end there is a gushing fountain and at the\nother a drain, that keep the water fresh. In warm weather, hundreds of\nBoston children \u201cgo swimming\u201d there every day,--brown-skinned,\nblack-eyed Italians, little Russian Jews, a small sprinkling of native\nBostonians, quite a large handful of little negroes, \u201cParthians and\nMedes and Elamites,\u201d no doubt, and \u201cthe dwellers in Mesopotamia\u201d; but\nnever, never a frog.\n\nIn winter, when the pool is frozen, it is a skating pond, and Flag Staff\nHill, just above it, makes an ideal start for a sled to go whizzing down\nacross the icy glare of the Frog Pond. Popular opinion has it that it\nwas this very slide on the Common that was made famous in the winter of\n1774 and 1775 by the contest between the youngsters of Boston and\nGeneral Gage\u2019s redcoats, then quartered on the town, who tried to spoil\nthe slide with sand and ashes. Instead of submitting timidly, the boys\ncarried their complaint to General Gage himself, who assured them that\nthey should be undisturbed in future and said in comment, \u201cHow can we\nhope to beat the notion of liberty out of this people? The very boys\nbreathe the air of liberty!\u201d\n\nHistorical truth compels me to state, however, that the Frog Pond was\nnot the scene of this interesting passage. It was undoubtedly on School\nStreet, in the neighborhood of the historic Latin School, that the boys\u2019\nslide was spoiled, and it was done by the servant of General Haldimand,\nwho was in command under General Gage, though General Gage was indeed\nthe court of appeal that decided in favor of the Latin School boys. As\nto the servant, I think his idea was a good one, for I have disastrously\ntried to walk down School Street myself on an icy day.\n\nBut if the Frog Pond was not the actual site of this historic strike for\nliberty, it may be called the direct spiritual descendant of whatever\nfrozen pool had that honor. For the boys and girls of the Frog Pond in\nthese modern days \u201cbreathe the air of liberty\u201d; and the grown people of\nBoston know it, and the police know it. The Frog Pond, within close view\nof the Massachusetts State House, within three minutes\u2019 walk of Boston\u2019s\nfinancial center, and within a stone\u2019s throw of the shopping district,\nbelongs exclusively to the youngsters. Any grown person may occupy a\nbench on the walk and watch the fun, but he mustn\u2019t complain if he\nhappens to get splashed. Neither must he object to large groups of girls\nand boys all around him, struggling to exchange wet bathing suits for\ndry clothes without the shelter of a dressing room. The youngsters are\nrequired to put on their bathing suits at home; but after the swim who\ncan be expected to traverse blocks and blocks of city streets in a wet\nbathing suit? They do the best they can to create for themselves a\nprivacy that doesn\u2019t exist. They bring newspapers and old blankets and\nsit under them on the grass to dress; they form close rings around each\nother at critical moments; and the Mayor of Boston consents, because he\nis very human and very sensible; and the Common police, who have all\nknown the delights of the Frog Pond and the difficulties of dressing in\npublic in their own boyhood days, turn their backs; and the majority of\nstaid Boston citizens, walking home to dinner past the Pond after office\nhours, approves genially, and is of the opinion that the small minority\nthat disapproves would better walk home by some other path.\n\nTo the Frog Pond, then, Wendell bent his steps the following afternoon.\nHe wore his bathing suit under his shirt and trousers, though it was\nsomewhat late in the season for bathing. The warm weather had brought\nout a number of adventurous souls, Sammy Davis among them.\n\n\u201cHi, Wendell, come on in,\u201d yelled Sammy.\n\n\u201cHow is it?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cFine! Warm as can be.\u201d\n\nWendell didn\u2019t believe it. He knew the old trick of telling the newest\ncomer how warm the water is. He stood undecided on the brick walk.\n\n\u201cSeen any frogs in there, Sammy?\u201d he asked.\n\nOf course it was a foolish question, but it popped out before he could\ncheck it.\n\n\u201cFrogs? Naw!\u201d said Sammy in exaggerated denial.\n\n\u201cFrogs! Yah!\u201d said the other boys, and hooted in derision.\n\n\u201cI seen a frog,\u201d piped up a bright-eyed colored baby in a bathing suit\nimprovised from underclothes, who sat on the stone curb and paddled his\nwriggling brown feet in the water.\n\n\u201cSeen a frog! Yes, like fun you did,\u201d jeered his big brother.\n\n\u201cI did seen a frog,\u201d reiterated the baby. \u201cThere, on the grass. There he\nis now.\u201d\n\nWendell looked where the brown finger pointed. Could he believe his\neyes? There on the grassy slope of the hill below the Soldiers\u2019 Monument\nactually sat and blinked a green and speckled frog.\n\nThe brown baby and Wendell were not the only people who had seen him. A\nshout went up from the water, and at the same time an echoing shout\narose from a group of small boys who were climbing around on a captured\nGerman tank on the crest of the hill. The boys on the tank began to\nscramble down.\n\nThe frog sat and blinked stupidly. It seemed dazed or injured, but as\nthe tank contingent cast themselves down the hill, it leaped with that\nsurprising suddenness that characterizes frogs, and with its long legs\nshooting behind, plunged head first down the slope and into the water.\nFor the first time within the memory of this generation, there was _a\nfrog in the Frog Pond_.\n\nWendell cast off his clothes and shoes and shot in after it. Whew! but\nthe water was cold! And how to locate the frog? A needle in a hay stack\ncouldn\u2019t compare with it.\n\nExcitement reigned in the Frog Pond. Every one gave chase. The water was\nnot clear enough to show the reptile plainly, but occasional glimpses of\nit spurred on its hunters. They made futile grabs below the water; they\nswam and dove after that frog. Several times some boy\u2019s hand closed over\nit, only to find its slippery length wriggling through his fingers. At\nlength it was captured by Izzy Icklebaum, who brought it triumphantly to\nthe surface and held it in a tight grasp.\n\n\u201cOh, Izzy, give it to me,\u201d begged Wendell. \u201cI\u2019ll give you anything you\nwant for it.\u201d\n\nIzzy lent a business-like ear to this offer.\n\n\u201cYou will, eh?\u201d he said, showing a large degree of interest. \u201cWill you\ngive me your aeroplane?\u201d\n\nIn spite of his deep regret, there was not even a moment\u2019s hesitation on\nWendell\u2019s part.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s yours,\u201d he said. \u201cHere, give us the frog here in my stocking. Put\nyour hands \u2019way in with him. That\u2019s the big idea. Now I\u2019ve got him.\u201d\n\nReleased by Izzy, the frog gave a futile leap, only to find itself\nentangled in the stocking foot. The capture was complete. Wendell put on\nhis clothes over his wet bathing suit, slipped his feet stockingless\ninto his shoes, slung the frog over his shoulder and started for home.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll come in for it this aft.,\u201d shouted Izzy after him.\n\n\u201cRight-o,\u201d returned Wendell over his shoulder, and sped on, his heart\nlightened of a tremendous burden, the last of the three tasks\naccomplished.\n\nTrue to his word, Izzy came over an hour later and bore off the\naeroplane. Wendell tried not to care. He pinched the frog gently through\nthe stocking to make sure it was there, and anticipated the Pixie\u2019s\ndisappointment.\n\nThe Pixie certainly was surprised. Wendell handed him the stocking and\ntold him to feel inside, and when the Pixie\u2019s hand came in contact with\nthe cold smooth skin of the frog, it gave the Pixie his first shock. He\ngot his second when Froggy, catching a glimpse of light through the\nopening, leaped violently out, almost in the Pixie\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cWell, I suppose that\u2019s settled,\u201d said the Pixie, when the frog had\nfinally come to rest in a corner of the room. \u201cYou really found it in\nthe Frog Pond?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I did,\u201d said Wendell, \u201creally and truly. So now I\u2019ve finished the\ntasks, I\u2019m glad to say.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I must say it\u2019s a great relief to me,\u201d returned the Pixie. \u201cI\nnever do know what to do with boys when I find them belonging to me.\nIt\u2019s a great responsibility. I\u2019m glad I\u2019m not a mother.\u201d\n\nIn spite of his relief, the Pixie continued to look gloomy and to fiddle\nuneasily with a pencil on Wendell\u2019s desk. At last he broke out:\n\n\u201cOf course, I\u2019m not doubting your word, but you know and I know that you\ncouldn\u2019t find a frog in the Frog Pond because there aren\u2019t any.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut this one really was,\u201d said Wendell, distressed to see that the\nPixie was not quite convinced that he spoke the truth. \u201cI saw him jump\nin myself, and Izzy Icklebaum fished him out.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, it\u2019s very fishy! I can\u2019t account for it,\u201d said the Pixie.\n\nHe remained in a brown study for several seconds; then a bright thought\nillumined his little old face.\n\n\u201cI have it. I bet I have it. Which side did the frog jump in from?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, it came jumping down the hill from the Soldiers\u2019 Monument. When I\nfirst saw it, it was near the top of the hill.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course it was!\u201d cried the Pixie, slapping his leg. \u201cThat\u2019s where the\nold Kobold lives. This is just like his work. He never had an original\nidea in his life.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean--?\u201d questioned Wendell.\n\n\u201cI mean this isn\u2019t a real frog at all. It\u2019s a person changed into a\nfrog--by enchantment, you know. He\u2019s always doing it, pulling that frog\nstuff. Why, I can count one, two, three--seven times anyway he\u2019s used\nthat same spell since Cinderella\u2019s godmother first suggested it. I\nshould think he\u2019d be tired of it himself.\u201d\n\nThe frog sat and blinked at them with its goggle eyes. Wendell didn\u2019t\nlike its stare. He began to feel uneasy. Suppose it _was_ enchanted.\nSuppose it should go back to its natural shape. He somehow felt sure he\nshouldn\u2019t like that shape, whatever it might be.\n\n\u201cOf course, this complicates things for you a bit,\u201d said the Pixie\nbriskly.\n\n\u201cFor me?\u201d faltered Wendell.\n\n\u201cYes, you\u2019ll have to break the spell, you know. You seem to forget this\nis your fairy story, young man.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how?\u201d queried Wendell. \u201cIt seems to me this business of living in a\nfairy story is just nothing but getting out of the frying pan into the\nfire.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you wished it, you know,\u201d said the Pixie. He uncrossed his legs,\ncrossed them the other way, gazed around the room, hummed a little tune.\nHe seemed to be washing his hands of all responsibility.\n\n\u201cSometimes if you throw a frog against a wall it will do it,\u201d\nvolunteered the Pixie. He spoke as if he had no interest in the matter.\n\n\u201cDo what?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cBreak the spell, of course.\u201d\n\nWendell hated to do it. He didn\u2019t like the frog, to be sure, but that\nwas no reason for hurting it. However, he advanced, under the compulsion\nof the Pixie\u2019s words, grasped the smooth, cold creature, and hurled it\nagainst the wall--then jumped back startled.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE STORY OF THE ENCHANTED MAIDEN\n\n\nIn place of the frog, before him stood a beauteous maiden. She had a\ndazzlingly clear complexion, big infantile blue eyes, and a wealth of\ngolden hair which she wore so as to conceal her ears. She was dressed\nsimply but charmingly in a sport blouse and skirt, silk stockings and\nlow shoes.\n\n\u201cJumping caterpillars!\u201d ejaculated the Pixie. \u201cI guessed right.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are naturally surprised,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden, in a low\nmelodious voice, \u201cto see me in place of that odious frog. I cannot tell\nyou how grateful I am to you for giving me back my natural form, though\nit can be only for a brief time.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave a chair,\u201d said Wendell as soon as he could recover from the shock.\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said the maiden, seating herself and gracefully crossing\none knee over the other. \u201cAs the story of my life is a long one and my\ntime is short, I will begin it at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cOnce upon a time there lived a maiden who was so beautiful and so good\nthat everyone loved her. That maiden, of course, was myself. While I was\nstill an infant, my mother died and my father married again. He chose\nfor his second wife a woman who had a daughter of my own age. For many\nyears we were a happy household, but after a time my stepmother was\ntransformed into a cruel witch by the magic charms of an old Kobold.\u201d\n\n\u201cHold on!\u201d cried the Pixie. \u201cDoes he live under Flag Staff Hill on the\nCommon?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe does,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden.\n\n\u201cThere, didn\u2019t I tell you this thing was mixed up with him?\u201d said the\nPixie, turning triumphantly to Wendell. \u201cI can always pick out his\nstyle.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe old Kobold,\u201d went on the Beauteous Maiden, \u201cgave my stepmother\nthree magic gifts. The first was a cloak that rendered the wearer\ninvisible. The second was a cap, and whoever put it on could read the\nthoughts of those about him. The third was a book of spells, containing\nall the spells and charms ordinarily used by magicians. The old Kobold\ndecreed that my stepmother should remain under his spell as long as she\nheld these gifts in her possession; but if she should be robbed of them,\nshe would lose her base powers as a witch and be restored to her\noriginal virtuous self.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see your work cut out for you,\u201d said the Pixie in a low aside to\nWendell.\n\n\u201cI cannot tell you,\u201d continued the Beauteous Maiden, \u201cwhat a wretched\nlife I led from this time on. I was dressed in rags, had only cold\nscraps to eat, and was forced to do the most menial work of the house,\nwhile my stepsister wore beautiful clothes and went to balls every\nnight.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t your father stop it?\u201d put in Wendell. \u201cI\u2019ve always wondered\nabout that in these stepmother stories--why the father stood for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI was coming to that,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden graciously. \u201cMy father\ndied soon after his second marriage, and my stepmother married again.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see,\u201d said the Pixie thoughtfully. \u201cShe took a step farther.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d assented the Beauteous Maiden, \u201cand he was a horrible giant whose\nfavorite diet was little boys. In addition, my stepmother made life a\nburden to me by her magic arts. She spied upon all my actions with the\nCloak of Darkness, and she spied upon all my thoughts with the Cap of\nThought, and she was constantly using her Book of Spells to annoy me.\nWhen I was making doughnuts, she would change the rolling pin into an\neel which would wriggle away from me, and annoying things of that kind.\nMy stepsister, too, once as dear to me as my own sister could have been,\nseemed to come gradually under the Kobold\u2019s spell. While every one\nadmired and loved me for my youth, innocence, and beauty, she was so\njealous that she constantly sought to do me an injury. At length,\nmatters came to a climax. One of the Boston papers held a beauty\ncontest, and, all unknown to me, a good neighbor sent in my photograph\nin competition. It had been advertised that the winner of the contest\nwould be offered a contract with one of the moving-picture companies as\na prize, but I knew nothing of it. Judge, then, of my surprise and\ndelight, when a reporter for the paper called to say that I had won the\ncompetition and with it the contract as a movie star. But my joy was\nequalled only by the rage of my cruel stepmother and the jealousy of my\nugly stepsister. They resolved that I should never sign that contract,\nand my stepmother sent me at once with a letter to be delivered to the\nold Kobold, requesting him to put the bearer to death.\n\n\u201cThis horrible design would doubtless have been carried out, but on the\nway to Boston I sat down to rest for a few moments in the Fenway and\nfell asleep. While I was asleep, a Metropolitan Park policeman happened\nthat way, and stood transfixed at the sight of my beauty. Noticing the\nletter, which I held in my hand, he took it, opened and read it, and was\nshocked beyond measure at the dreadful fate designed for me. He cast\nabout for means to avert it, and at length wrote another letter,\nrequesting the Kobold to change the bearer into a fairy, and substituted\nthis letter for the original one. Soon after, I awoke and went on my\nway, all unconscious of these events. I presented the letter to the\nKobold, who immediately used his magic charm to transform me.\nUnfortunately, the policeman did not write a very legible hand. The\nKobold read _frog_ for _fairy_ and changed me to the horrible form in\nwhich you first beheld me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s a lesson for you, young man,\u201d said the Pixie severely. \u201cYou\ndon\u2019t write any too good a hand yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy time is short,\u201d went on the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cThe courage and\ndevotion of my rescuer,\u201d she turned a sad little smile on Wendell, who\nwriggled uncomfortably, \u201chas made it possible for me to resume my\nnatural form for a short time, in order to tell my story, but soon I\nmust return to the shape of a frog. So I will tell you of the further\ntask that lies before you.\n\n\u201cYou must go alone at midnight to the hill where the Kobold dwells, and\nsummon him forth by saying these magic words:--\n\n    \u201c_Green hill, green hill, open to me._\n     _I would the wise old Kobold see._\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if that isn\u2019t conceited!\u201d said the Pixie scornfully. \u201cOf all the\nnonsense! \u2018The wise old Kobold\u2019! My word!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen the Kobold comes out, you must tell him that you have come to\nrescue the Beauteous Maiden and inquire his terms. He will ask you to\nperform a task for him, and when it is completed, I shall be free.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know just what he\u2019ll ask you, too,\u201d put in the Pixie. \u201cSame\nsuperannuated stuff! He\u2019ll ask you to guess his name.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what is his name?\u201d asked Wendell, looking from the Pixie to the\nBeauteous Maiden and back again.\n\n\u201cHow should I know?\u201d shrugged the Pixie. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t know, himself,\nreally. He stuck to Rumpelstiltskin a few hundred years, but lately he\nchanges it every time. He has to, you know, because he always gives it\naway, himself, spinning \u2019round on one leg. That\u2019s just how much sense he\nhas.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich side of the hill, I wonder,\u201d went on Wendell, turning to the\nBeauteous Maiden, but to his startled surprise, she had vanished, and\nthere sat the frog, as green, as goggle-eyed, as unintelligent, as\naltogether repulsive as if it had never won a beauty contest in its\nlife.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nWENDELL WORKS THE MIDNIGHT SPELL\n\n\n\u201cHow did she get that way?\u201d he asked the Pixie, who only smiled\ngleefully and returned, \u201cIt\u2019s a great life, isn\u2019t it, this fairy story\nbusiness!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I suppose I\u2019ve got to do it,\u201d said the harassed boy. \u201cHow I\u2019m\never going to stay awake till midnight, I don\u2019t see.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I\u2019ll wake you, my boy,\u201d said the Pixie obligingly. \u201cYou go to bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what am I going to do with him--with her?\u201d pursued Wendell,\npointing vindictively to the frog. \u201cNow I know what she is, I\u2019ve got to\nmake her comfortable somewhere. She can\u2019t sleep in a stocking.\u201d\n\nThe frog blinked and stared at him. Wendell stared back gloomily. He\nwondered if different frogs looked different to each other, like boys\nand dogs. It seemed to him that this frog was particularly ugly, even\njudged by frog standards of beauty. Well, poor thing! that was probably\nthe Kobold\u2019s fault.\n\n\u201cI know what I\u2019ll do with her,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll put her in the guest\nchamber for the night. She\u2019ll like that. Virginia\u2019s away overnight.\u201d\n\nIt wasn\u2019t very easy to catch the frog. It eluded Wendell with\nlong-legged leaps, but Wendell cornered it at last, with the help of the\nPixie, and carried it, its little heart pulsating with fright, to the\ndainty room that Cousin Virginia occupied, and tucked it into bed.\n\n\u201cOne good job done,\u201d said Wendell to himself. \u201cI won\u2019t have to sleep\nwith _that_ in the room to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, old chap, I guess I\u2019ll go to bed now,\u201d he said, yawning, to the\nPixie, \u201cand if you _will_ call me, say about eleven-thirty, I\u2019ll be much\nobliged.\u201d\n\nAs he slid under the bed clothes and sprawled out in solid comfort, his\nfoot touched something cold, clammy, repellent. He barely repressed a\nshriek. He threw back the bed clothes. Yes, the frog again!\n\n\u201cNow, how did he ever get there?\u201d cried Wendell in bewilderment. \u201cI\u2019m\nsure he couldn\u2019t open the door. It _is_ magic, for sure.\u201d\n\n\u201c_She_, you mean. You can\u2019t shake her,\u201d rejoined the Pixie maliciously.\n\u201cIt\u2019s your fairy tale, you know, and you are The Rescuer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what shall I do with her now?\u201d asked Wendell in despair. \u201cDo you\nsuppose she\u2019d stay here if I went into Cousin Virginia\u2019s room?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot for a moment,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cI tell you. You put her under the\ndown puff, on the foot of the bed, and I\u2019ll keep an eye on her.\u201d\n\nIt seemed about five minutes after Wendell was in bed, when he awoke\nsuddenly and found that the Pixie was pounding him severely.\n\n\u201cHold on! Hold on!\u201d he called. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe matter is, I\u2019ve been trying for the last ten minutes to wake you,\u201d\nsaid the Pixie, exasperated. \u201cThe Sleeping Beauty had nothing on you.\nHurry up, now, or you won\u2019t get there at midnight.\u201d\n\nWendell tumbled into his clothes and tiptoed, as noiselessly as in him\nlay, down the broad old-fashioned stairs, and still another flight to\nthe basement. He did not dare risk the noise of the front door, so he\nemerged from the kitchen into the back alley, and thence to the street.\nNot a person was in sight. Only a black and white cat prowled the\ngutters. A strange silence covered the city. Even the surging, seething\nroar of West End children at play, which rises all the evening, was\nstilled. Wendell\u2019s running footsteps, beating rhythmic time on the brick\npavement of Old Boston, alone broke the stillness. No traffic policemen\npresided over Beacon Street. He gained the Common, skirted the Frog\nPond, and faced Flag Staff Hill and, brave boy though he was, he did\ntremble in his boots.\n\nThe frequent electric lights along the thoroughfares that bound the\nCommon drew glowing lines of light around it; and there were bright\nlights at the intersection of the walks. But here, on the gentle slope\nof Flag Staff Hill, under the tall elms, a great black shadow lay. No\nBoston boy, born and reared among the historic traditions of the\nCommonwealth, but knows the somber legend of this site, that under this\nsoil lie buried the Quakers and the pirates whom Puritan zeal executed\non this spot in the early days of the colony. Cold chills ran up and\ndown Wendell\u2019s spine as he stood here in the shadow and listened for the\nstroke of midnight. Presently it boomed forth from the old church on\nMount Vernon Street--the same metal voice that struck the hour to the\npoet Longfellow when he stood on the bridge at midnight. Now was the\nfateful moment! And do you know, whether it was magic or whether it was\nscare I can\u2019t say, but Wendell couldn\u2019t for the life of him remember\nthat charm that was to summon the Kobold! The striking of the clock,\nbringing with it the memory of that well known poem which he had learned\nin school, had driven every bit of verse out of his mind, except his\nCousin Virginia\u2019s irreverent version of the same poem:--\n\n    \u201c_I stood on the bridge at midnight,_\n      _As the clocks were striking three,_\n     _And a cabman drove across the bridge_\n      _And hitched his horse to me._\u201d\n\nOn the eleventh stroke of the old church bell, the Park Street Church at\nBrimstone Corner took up the echo. Wendell by a mighty effort recalled\nthe charm before the second sonorous voice had died on the still air.\n\n    \u201c_Green hill, green hill, open to me._\n     _I would the wise old Kobold see,_\u201d\n\nrepeated Wendell.\n\nSuddenly another electric light on the path below sprang into\nbrightness, and sent a light streak across the shadow of the elms. For a\nmoment Wendell fancied, and decided that it must be only fancy, that\nthe ground trembled slightly under his feet. Then, before his eyes there\ncame a crack in the earth, as if a giant seed were germinating and\npushing up a shoot. The crack widened. It became a tunnel extending\napparently into the very heart of the hill; and suddenly, like a cut\nmoving-picture film that jerks a sudden change upon the screen, he saw\nthat the mouth of the tunnel was occupied by an unexpected grotesque\nfigure that could be none other than the Kobold.\n\nWendell had expected that the Kobold would look somewhat like the Pixie,\nbut they had nothing in common except smallness of stature. The Kobold\nwas about the size of a six-year-old, and had white hair and white\nwhiskers and a very long white beard that reached to his waist. He\nappeared to be wearing a belted velvet suit, with full sleeves and\nbreeches, and he was very stout and stocky.\n\n\u201cWho summons me?\u201d he said with dignity.\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said Wendell advancing boldly, now that there was need for\naction. \u201cI should like to know how to free the Beauteous Maiden from\nyour spell.\u201d\n\nThe Kobold chuckled grimly--an exclusive sort of chuckle that made\nWendell feel very much out of the joke.\n\n\u201cIf you wish to win the Maiden\u2019s freedom,\u201d he said slowly, \u201cyou will\nfirst have to guess a riddle. You may have three chances to give the\nanswer. If you guess correctly on any one of those trials, the Maiden\nshall be restored to her original form. If\n\n[Illustration: \u201cWHO SUMMONS ME?\u201d SAID THE KOBOLD]\n\nyou fail, she shall still remain a frog, and you too shall be\ntransformed into another shape at my will.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood gracious!\u201d cried Wendell. \u201cIs there as much to it as all that? I\u2019m\nnot going to be changed into anything at anybody\u2019s will. You can keep\nyour old riddle and your frog, too, for all of me.\u201d He turned to go.\n\n\u201cStay!\u201d cried the Kobold, so he stayed to listen.\n\n\u201cI might add,\u201d said the Kobold, \u201cthat while the above terms are my\nregular ones, I might make a slight reduction in your case, as business\nis particularly dull just now. Indeed, to be candid, it is nearly a\nhundred years since I have had any opportunity to hold this guessing\ncontest.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, how much of a reduction?\u201d asked Wendell. \u201cWill you leave out the\npart about transforming me? Say, if I win, the frog changes back to the\nMaiden, and if I lose, it stays a frog?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d returned the Kobold. \u201cSuch is not my method of doing business.\nThe princes that have entered this contest in times past have at least\nagreed to be transformed for a limited time.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot for a moment, for me,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cTimes have changed.\u201d\n\n\u201cA week, say,\u201d urged the Kobold. \u201cI tell you frankly I shall not release\nthe Maiden for less, and if she is not released before one more year is\nrun, she will be turned into a loathly dragon for life.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, make it a week, then,\u201d said Wendell sulkily.\n\n\u201cAgreed!\u201d said the Kobold. \u201cHere, then, is the riddle you must\nanswer:--_What is Boston?_\u201d\n\nWithout a moment\u2019s hesitation, just as promptly as if he had been asked\nhis own name, Wendell replied in Dr. Holmes\u2019 words, as any Boston boy\nwould,\n\n\u201cBoston is the Hub of the Universe.\u201d\n\n\u201cWrong! Wrong!\u201d chuckled the Kobold maliciously. \u201cI knew you\u2019d say that.\nBut there is another answer.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the crestfallen Wendell, \u201cI\u2019ll go home and think it over.\nAnd say, do I have to come at midnight every time? It\u2019s mighty hard to\nsneak out just then.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I will make an appointment with you for any time you say,\u201d returned\nthe Kobold obligingly. \u201cMorning, evening, whatever you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s make it eight o\u2019clock in the morning,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI could\ndrop in here on the way to school.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow?\u201d asked the Kobold.\n\n\u201cN-no,\u201d hesitated Wendell. \u201cI\u2019ll need a little time on this thing.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll wager you will,\u201d chuckled the old Kobold, growing almost slangy in\nhis dignified glee.\n\n\u201cSay the day after to-morrow,\u201d suggested Wendell.\n\n\u201cAgreed!\u201d said the Kobold. \u201cYou will find me here outside the hill. And\nmind you bring back that frog. It is not your property, you must\nremember.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will. I\u2019ll be glad to,\u201d returned Wendell hurriedly. The frog was\nalready on his nerves.\n\n\u201cAnd only two more guesses,\u201d added the Kobold.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said Wendell meekly. He was very much mortified to have failed\nso quickly through his own assurance. He went back through the silent\nstreets, let himself in quietly and bolted the back door, took off his\nshoes and groped up to his room, where the Pixie sat awaiting him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nCOUSIN VIRGINIA HAS A CALLER\n\n\n\u201cWell, you deserved to lose,\u201d said the Pixie when he had heard the whole\nstory, \u201canswering right off like that on the spur of the moment. You\nhave to think these things over a bit. Besides, the Hub has been moving\nslowly westward since Holmes\u2019 time. It\u2019s nearer Chicago, now, I believe.\nBut what did I tell you about old White-Hairs? Isn\u2019t he a back number?\nTrying to do business in the twentieth century the way he used to do it\nwith those princes in slashed doublets! Why doesn\u2019t he wake up and hear\nthe birdies sing?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow\u2019s the frog?\u201d asked Wendell anxiously.\n\n\u201cAn awful nuisance,\u201d responded the Pixie frankly. \u201cI think she\u2019s thirsty\nbut she won\u2019t drink.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, they can\u2019t drink, you know,\u201d explained Wendell. \u201cThey take it in\nthrough the skin. That mug is too small. Here, I\u2019ll fill the basin and\nput her in.\u201d\n\nThat seemed to content the frog. It sat and soaked and absorbed and\ngoggled at Wendell, who regarded it moodily.\n\n\u201cIf I can\u2019t do anything more for you,\u201d said the Pixie, \u201cI\u2019ll move on.\nHope you guess the riddle.\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, old fellow,\u201d said Wendell soberly. He was very sleepy and\ndiscouraged. But the frog looked a bit cheerier.\n\nHardly was Wendell in bed when he dropped off to sleep, and five minutes\nlater, blop! the frog leaped from the basin and landed on the boy\u2019s\nface, all wet and soggy and cold. Wendell, half asleep, struck out in\nself-defense, and landed a whacking blow on the poor reptile, that sent\nit halfway across the room. He realized instantly what he had done, and\nmuch ashamed of himself, he turned on the light, located the panting\nfrog, and tucked it under the down quilt at the foot of the bed.\nBitterly he regretted that he had not made an appointment with the\nKobold to return the creature the very next morning.\n\nWhen he left for school, he hid the frog away again in his stocking, in\na chiffonier drawer, but even his preoccupation with the Boston riddle\ndid not entirely obliterate his uneasy fear that the frog might escape\nor be turned out of the house in his absence, and thus plunge him into\nsome other awful rescuing problem.\n\nHe had hoped that the geography or history or literature lesson might\nenlighten him on the definition of Boston, and his attention to study\nwas so strict that his teachers thought best to watch him even more\nclosely than usual, to forestall whatever mischief must be brewing. But\nno ray of light came to him from any of his lessons. He went home\ndespondently, assured himself that the frog was still safe, and went out\nto play with cheerful Sammy Davis and the other fellows. It seemed a\nlong while since he, too, had been a care-free, whistling boy, with no\ngreater anxiety than being kept after school for fractions, or being\nchased by Sammy\u2019s cross janitor.\n\nHe had almost forgotten his troubles when he went in to dinner, but as\nsoon as he ascended to his room to study they all came back, for there\nsat the frog on his table, popping its eyes out at him most\nunpleasantly.\n\n\u201cI guess I\u2019ll study downstairs,\u201d he thought. \u201cI\u2019ll have the library to\nmyself to-night. Mother and Father have gone to the Symphony, and I\nguess Cousin Virginia\u2019s out somewhere.\u201d\n\nHe settled down comfortably in the library, and was getting on famously\nwith his lessons when the bell rang and a masculine voice asked for his\nCousin Virginia. She came down presently and a lively conversation began\nin the front room just out of sight but not out of sound of Wendell. He\nmanaged, however, to keep his mind on his work, for it was very silly\ntalk and not at all interesting. The man was a Harvard student from New\nYork, and they chattered on about strangers to Wendell whom they knew in\ncommon.\n\n\u201cDo you like Boston?\u201d Wendell heard the man say, and Virginia\u2019s clear\nand rather high-pitched voice answered,\n\n\u201cOf course I like Boston. I\u2019ll put it more strongly, I thoroughly enjoy\nBoston. I never supposed any place could be so--so historical, so\nabsolutely, thoroughly, naively, unselfconsciously historical. Why, even\nlittle Wendell--\u201d\n\n\u201cShe needn\u2019t _little_ me,\u201d thought Wendell savagely.\n\n\u201c--invited me to see a play he was to be in, in school, and what _do_\nyou suppose? it was Revolutionary. All about hiding away a wounded\nsoldier, with allusions to the British encamped on Boston Common, and\nthe tax on tea. I don\u2019t believe Boston knows anything has happened in\nhistory since the Boston Tea Party.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve said it,\u201d said the young man, who seemed to admire Virginia very\nmuch.\n\n\u201cAnd their holidays,\u201d went on the foolish girl. \u201cWhen I was here last\nspring, I went out to shop on the nineteenth of April, and would you\nbelieve it? the shops were closed. Patriots\u2019 Day, if you please, when\nthe farmers fired the shot heard round the world! I came in and said to\nAuntie, \u2018Do you by any chance have a holiday in Boston on the fourth of\nJuly, Auntie?\u2019 \u2018Why, yes, dear,\u2019 she said, \u2018of course.\u2019 I said, \u2018But\nwhy? It isn\u2019t Emerson\u2019s birthday, is it?\u2019 and she said, \u2018Why, my dear,\nyou must know it is Independence Day.\u2019 \u2018Oh, yes, Auntie,\u2019 I said, \u2018but\nwhy celebrate it in Boston? That little event was pulled off in\nPhiladelphia. Hasn\u2019t Boston enough?\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cHa, ha!\u201d laughed the young man. \u201cThat was a good one on Boston.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the greatest pleasure I\u2019ve had is the baked beans,\u201d she went on.\n\n\u201cPleasure!\u201d echoed the young man. \u201cNo _pleasure_, surely.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I mean _mental_ pleasure, to find they really _are_, you know, and\nnot merely a myth. Of course, I believed before I came here that they\nexisted here, but as an occasional article of diet. Why, they are a\nreligious rite, an article of faith! Every Saturday night!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and every Sunday morning breakfast at my boarding house,\u201d groaned\nthe young man.\n\n\u201cImpossible! Inhuman!\u201d said Virginia brightly.\n\n\u201cInhuman, but true,\u201d moaned the young man.\n\nWendell thought he had never heard such idiocy in his life. Delicious\nbaked beans!\n\n\u201cBut they not only _eat_ them--they take them seriously,\u201d Virginia\u2019s\nsilly little voice ran on. \u201cI made a light and unworthy remark to one of\nAuntie\u2019s friends about the sacred bean. She looked at me compassionately\nand then said gravely, \u2018We always bake them with a small onion in the\nbottom of the pot.\u2019 Yes, I don\u2019t know who said it first, but it is\nabsolutely true that Boston _is_ a state of mind.\u201d\n\nWendell, listening with the utmost scorn to these trivialities, was\nsuddenly brought up short.\n\n_Boston is a state of mind._\n\nThree rousing cheers for Cousin Virginia!\n\nHe went to bed happy that night. Even the presence of the loathsome frog\nwas endurable. To-morrow he would return the creature to the Kobold, and\nat the same time fling the answer to his riddle in his teeth--if he had\nany teeth. It would seem probable that a Kobold with so much white beard\nwould be too old to have teeth.\n\nThe Kobold was waiting for him on the slope of Flag Staff Hill next\nmorning. So cleverly did his velvet suit take on the soft tone of the\nelm trunks, that no one of the busy passersby, hurrying on to business\nthrough the Common, discerned him there under the trees, though Wendell\nsaw him clearly. Or was it that he made himself invisible to other eyes?\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve brought your frog,\u201d said Wendell, drawing a long breath. He handed\nthe stocking over to the Kobold, and the frog leaped out and vanished\namong the fallen leaves.\n\n\u201cWhat _is_ Boston?\u201d asked the Kobold mockingly.\n\n\u201cBoston,\u201d said Wendell with assurance, \u201cis a state of mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cWrong! Wrong!\u201d jeered the Kobold--and was no longer there. But a little\nbreeze rustled in the elm trees and brought a faint hissing message to\nWendell\u2019s ears, just as the rushes whispered the fatal secret of the\nbarber of King Midas:--\n\n\u201cOne more chance! One more chance!\u201d\n\nWendell went on dejectedly to school.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE BREAKING OF THE CHARM\n\n\nSeveral days passed by. No inspiration came to Wendell. The Pixie had no\nsuggestion to offer, only unsympathetic criticism:--\u201cYou might have\nknown that was too subtle for him. He\u2019s no deep thinker. _I_ could have\ntold you.\u201d His mother grew anxious. \u201cYou mustn\u2019t study so hard, dear,\u201d\nshe said. \u201cYou should have been out playing with the boys instead of\nporing over that Memorial History of Boston this afternoon. Yes, I know\nit is fascinating reading, especially the earlier chapters, but you must\nthink of your health, dear.\u201d Cousin Virginia looked at Wendell\nsolicitously, and Wendell knew she meant to be funny again.\n\nThis was Saturday evening, and the family had just settled down in the\nlibrary with the _Transcript_, each with a section. Alden had the news;\nOtis, the sporting page; his father was perusing the editorials, his\nmother was reading the religious items. Cousin Virginia dabbled a few\nmoments in the theatrical columns, like a canary unwilling to get wet\nall over in his china tub, and then laid down her section, suppressed a\nyawn, and said,\n\n\u201cWhy does all Boston find its greatest dissipation Saturday night in\nreading the Saturday evening _Transcript_?\u201d\n\n\u201cHabit, pure habit,\u201d growled Alden, without raising his eyes.\n\n\u201cNot altogether habit,\u201d said his mother, gently and seriously. \u201cThe\n_Transcript_, Virginia, is quite different from any other paper. It is\nreliable and conservative and sound.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know, Virginia\u201d--her uncle looked up for a moment with a twinkle in\nhis eye--\u201cgood Bostonians always make a point of dying on Friday, so\nthat their obituaries can go into the Saturday evening _Transcript_.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo? That _is_ consistent,\u201d laughed Virginia. \u201cBut even the Boston\nchildren quote it. I saw the funniest little chap as I was crossing the\nCommon to-day--a short fat little fellow, having a lot of fun with a\nfalse beard and whiskers. He was twirling around on one leg, to get\ndizzy, I suppose, and chanting loudly something like this, that didn\u2019t\nmake any sense:--\n\n    \u201c\u2018_The boy--will soon--belong--to me,\n      Unless--the_ Trans--cript _he--should see.\n      Ha! Ha!--the ed--ito--rial page\n      He\u2019ll nev--er read--until--old age!_\u2019\n\nWould you believe it? I never would--outside of Boston.\u201d\n\nWendell listened no further. He could hardly wait for his father to drop\nthe editorial section. What a foolish old Kobold!--giving the whole\nthing away, just as the Pixie said he always did. Thank goodness!\n\nWendell remembered how his nature study teacher had told the class that\neven the smallest and humblest of creatures has undoubtedly some place\nin the scheme of things. Even Cousin Virginia had a use in the world, it\nwould seem.\n\nAfter a long while, Wendell\u2019s father laid down the page, and Wendell\npicked it up inconspicuously. But not too inconspicuously for Cousin\nVirginia\u2019s keen laughing eyes.\n\n\u201cNice little Boston, Wendell,\u201d she whispered to him. \u201cThe family picture\nis complete.\u201d\n\nWendell read the page through carefully, every word,--the weather, the\nleaders, the paragraphs, the Nomad, Letters to the Editor, Facts and\nFancies, the deaths, and the advertisements. Not one word that gave\nlight on the definition of Boston. Wendell sat in a brown study.\nPresently, he went up to his room, hoping the Pixie would be there, and\nsure enough, he was.\n\n\u201cSounds very probable,\u201d was the Pixie\u2019s comment, after Wendell had laid\nthe facts before him. \u201cOf course it doesn\u2019t have to be to-night\u2019s\n_Transcript_. In fact it couldn\u2019t be. It must have been before he put\nthe riddle to you, anyway. I shouldn\u2019t be surprised if you\u2019d hit the\nbull\u2019s-eye this time. That\u2019s just the kind of riddle he\u2019d\npropose--something he read in the paper! That\u2019s just the kind of mind\nhe has. There are some people like that, you know, who think if they see\nit \u2018in the paper,\u2019 it must be true.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Wendell, \u201cyou\u2019d advise looking through the old\n_Transcripts_ till I find it. I could do that, I guess, at the\n_Transcript_ office.\u201d\n\nHe had to wait till Monday, of course. Monday afternoon, he went down\ndirectly from school to the _Transcript_ building, which, fitly enough,\noccupies the historic site of the birthplace of Benjamin Franklin, the\ngreat journalist. The _Transcript_ people were most courteous and put\ntheir files at Wendell\u2019s disposal. Through editorial page after page\nfloundered Wendell, and if only he could have understood and remembered\nhalf that he read, he would have emerged from the newspaper office a\ncomplete specimen of the well-read Boston boy, such as his Cousin\nVirginia pretended to believe he already was. It was nearly dusk before\nhis heart was lightened by a definition of Boston, this one from the pen\nof Oliver Herford, whom of course Wendell recognized as a delightful\ncontributor to _St. Nicholas_. Mr. Herford, it seemed, was originally a\nBoston man, though now dwelling in the outlands, and, said Mr. Herford,\n\u201cBoston is a center of gravity almost entirely surrounded by Newtons.\u201d\n\nIt sounded like sense, though naturally Wendell didn\u2019t quite understand\nit at first. After he had read it several times, he began to see the\npoint. Encouraged by the views the Pixie had expressed, Wendell decided\nto stop right in at the Kobold\u2019s on the way home. If he wasn\u2019t on the\nslope of the hill, or if he remained invisible there, doubtless the\nspell that worked before would bring him to light again.\n\nBut Wendell found no need to use the spell, for the little old Kobold\nwas out in plain sight, at least in plain sight of Wendell, though no\none else appeared to notice him in the dusk of evening.\n\nHis eye lit up mockingly as Wendell approached.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ve got it this time,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI found it in the _Transcript_.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, did you?\u201d said the little old chap with less assurance than he had\nshown before. \u201cWhat made you think of looking there?\u201d\n\nWendell decided not to tell him. \u201cOh, I read the _Transcript_ pretty\nregularly,\u201d he said. \u201cThis is the answer:--\u2018Boston is a center of\ngravity almost entirely surrounded by Newtons.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right!\u201d groaned the Kobold. \u201cYou are right!\u201d and gnashed his\nteeth. Wendell was much interested, as he had heard of gnashing one\u2019s\nteeth, but had never seen it done before; besides it cleared up that\ndoubtful point in his mind as to whether the white-bearded Kobold had\nany teeth.\n\nWhen the Kobold had finished gnashing, he asked Wendell very\nrespectfully,\n\n\u201cBy the way, can you tell me what it means?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s perfectly clear,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cYou know the Newtons around\nBoston, West Newton, and Newton Center, and so on. And Isaac Newton was\nthe man who discovered the law of gravity--of falling, you know. And\nsome people do think there\u2019s a lot of gravity in Boston--grave\nconversation, I mean. I have a cousin from New York who thinks so. So\nit\u2019s a fairly good joke, you see.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I do not see,\u201d returned the Kobold, grasping his head in both\nhands, \u201cbut it does not matter, I assure you. I shall not use it again\nunder any circumstances. It is too ultra-modern. You may not have\nguessed it but I am a conservative.\u201d\n\n\u201cI guessed the riddle, anyway,\u201d maintained Wendell, \u201cso where\u2019s the\nMaiden?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is here,\u201d said the Kobold, looking down at the rustling leaves,\nwhere Wendell now made out the ugly shape of the frog. \u201cMaiden, you are\nfree.\u201d\n\nAnd there she stood, slim and beautiful in the dusk, and looked at\nWendell with the utmost gratitude.\n\n\u201cMy deliverer!\u201d she breathed softly.\n\n\u201cI suppose you will have to marry her now,\u201d said the Kobold to Wendell.\n\u201cIt is always customary.\u201d Wendell was sure there was malice in the old\nfellow\u2019s eye this time.\n\n\u201cWhy--why--\u201d he stammered, \u201cwe didn\u2019t plan that.\u201d And the Beauteous\nMaiden added quickly,\n\n\u201cNot yet. There are my cruel stepmother and the giant to consider. Come,\nsit with me on yonder bench, and we will discuss the matter.\u201d So they\nmoved away and left the Kobold standing there, and that was the last\nthat Wendell saw of _him_, though for all I know, the old fellow may\nstill be living under Flag Staff Hill on Boston Common to this very\nmoment.\n\n\u201cThe first thing I must do,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden, \u201cis to hunt up\nthat moving picture man and sign the contract. Then I shall be\nindependent in case you shouldn\u2019t succeed with my family.\u201d\n\n\u201cSucceed with your family--how do you mean?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhy, in case my cruel stepmother should work a charm on you, or in case\nthe giant should eat you up.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I see,\u201d said Wendell, \u201cI hadn\u2019t thought of that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, of course, we\u2019ll hope for the best,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden.\n\u201cHere is the address in Brookline. You take the car from Park Street.\nYou know what you have to do,--rob my stepmother of the three magic\ngifts that give her her power as a witch,--the Cloak of Darkness, the\nCap of Thought and the Book of Spells. The Book of Spells has every\ncharm in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not just take the book then?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\nOf course, the minute he had asked it, he knew it was a stupid question.\n\n\u201cBecause things always go by threes, Silly,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden.\n\u201cAfter the witch is powerless, your next task will be to kill the giant;\nand the Book of Spells will undoubtedly help you there. Now farewell,\ndear Deliverer. I must find that movie man.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d said Wendell. He was glad to be alone. He had a great deal\nto face and a great deal to plan. Besides that, he had been rubbed the\nwrong way by the Beauteous Maiden, who really\n\n[Illustration: SAID THE BEAUTEOUS MAIDEN, \u201cYOUR NEXT TASK WILL BE TO\nKILL THE GIANT\u201d]\n\nseemed to think it was a small thing for him to be eaten by a giant for\nher sake. He said as much to the Pixie, who came in that evening,\ntremendously interested in the answer to the Kobold\u2019s riddle, and eager\nto encourage Wendell in his next adventure.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nIN THE GIANT\u2019S HOUSE\n\n\n\u201cOh, yes, it _sounds_ easy,\u201d grumbled Wendell. \u201cJust walk into a witch\u2019s\nhouse and steal her magic cloak. Easy as rolling off a log. Only how am\nI going to do it, I\u2019d like to know.\u201d\n\n\u201cI might help,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cI rather like a lark of that kind.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, if _you_\u2019d help,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cThat would be great. What could\nyou do?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I have some rather neat transformation charms, myself,\u201d said the\nPixie. \u201cI suppose if I once got you into the house, you could do the\nrest.\u201d\n\n\u201cI guess so,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI could hide in the oven or something.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll have to make you pretty small to get into one of these gas ranges\nthey use now-a-days,\u201d said the Pixie thoughtfully. \u201cYou have to think of\neverything, you know, in this business, or else you lose by a fluke. I\nhave it. I\u2019ll change myself into an organ grinder, and you into the\nmonkey.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d jeered Wendell. \u201cNice chance a monkey would have to be let into\nanybody\u2019s house.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, of course,\u201d said the Pixie, somewhat crestfallen, \u201cit was only a\nsuggestion.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s got to be something that anybody would be glad to have in their\nhouse,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cSomething helpful. A furnace man. Or a gas\nman--to read the meter.\u201d\n\n\u201cNobody\u2019s glad to have _him_ in their house,\u201d grunted the Pixie. \u201cBut I\nget your idea. Why not a plumber to stop a leak? I have a fine plumber\u2019s\ntransformation among my charms. I\u2019ll be the plumber and you can go as my\nassistant. Good idea, what?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very thing,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cWell, after school to-morrow, you get into your oldest clothes, and\nI\u2019ll come around.\u201d\n\nWendell hurried home the next afternoon and hunted out an old suit that\nhe had withheld from the Morgan Memorial Goodwill bag, in case of a\npainting job or something. Hardly had he got into these clothes, when he\nheard an impatient honking in the street. Looking out, he saw in front\nof the curb a huge Cadillac with the driver\u2019s seat occupied by a young\nchap in workingman\u2019s clothes who grinned up at him and beckoned\nfrantically.\n\nWendell went down.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t have known you,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s a fine disguise.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it\u2019s rather neat,\u201d returned the Pixie with quiet pride. He had\na young, pleasant, intelligent face, and no one could possibly have\ntaken him for a Pixie. He was very suitably dressed in khaki trousers,\nblue coat, tan shoes, and visored cap, all somewhat creased and soiled,\nand a bundle of tools lay on the seat beside him.\n\n\u201cWhere did you get the car?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cPart of the outfit,\u201d responded the Pixie. \u201cI couldn\u2019t pass for a\nplumber, these days, could I, unless I went to my job in a high-powered\ntouring car?\u201d\n\nThe Pixie guided the car deftly down the hill, and turned from the\ndimpling blue Charles River into Beacon Street. They spun out over the\nsmooth pavement through Boston and into Brookline, consulted the address\nthat the Beauteous Maiden had written down, conferred with a policeman\nor two, and at length turned into one of the pretty winding roads that\nnet the Boston suburbs.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s it,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cThere\u2019s the number.\u201d\n\nIt was an attractive modern house of the near-Colonial style of\narchitecture, white-painted, with green blinds, a brick porch, a very\nwell-kept lawn, the whole tasteful, but not pretentious.\n\nThe Pixie rang the bell.\n\nAfter a few moments, the door was opened by a young lady, who, while not\npositively deformed, was so very, very plain, that Wendell knew at once\nthat she was the Ugly Stepsister.\n\n\u201cLeak in the bathroom?\u201d asked the Pixie, with a concise, business-like\nair.\n\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know it. I\u2019ll ask Mummer,\u201d said the young lady. She left the\ndoor ajar, and they heard her calling, \u201cMummer!\u201d as she retreated to\nthe back of the house.\n\n\u201cI might slip in now, don\u2019t you think?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d whispered the Pixie sternly. \u201cWait and walk in like a\ngentleman. No sneaking when you\u2019re with me, young man.\u201d\n\nWendell felt somewhat abashed, and yet resentful.\n\n\u201cI\u2019d like to know if it isn\u2019t sneaking to--\u201d he began, but just then a\ndoor opened from the kitchen and the Cruel Stepmother came forward. She\nhad projecting teeth, and a hooked nose and chin, and her hair straggled\nuncombed about her face.\n\n\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d she said.\n\n\u201cLeak in the bathroom,\u201d said the Pixie briefly. \u201cYour husband\ntelephoned.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said she. \u201cRight up the stairs there.\u201d\n\nThe Pixie went up with the bag of tools on his shoulder, followed\nclosely by Wendell, and found a neat tiled bathroom. He unrolled his\ntools, selected a monkey-wrench and went to work on the bath-tub pipes.\nThe two women had remained downstairs.\n\n\u201cWell, you\u2019re here,\u201d said the Pixie in a low tone.\n\n\u201cWhat would you do next?\u201d whispered Wendell.\n\n\u201cLook about a bit,\u201d rejoined the Pixie. \u201cI\u2019ll keep my ear cocked.\u201d\n\nWendell tiptoed carefully into the hall and peeked into the front\nbedroom. He tried a closet door, found it unlocked, opened it and peered\nin at the usual collection of clothes hanging in closets. There was\nnothing that looked like a magic cloak. He tiptoed into the next\nbedroom and was investigating the contents of the closet there, when he\nheard a sudden exclamation from the Pixie in the bathroom. He went in\nhastily, asking, \u201cHave you found anything?\u201d\n\nThe Pixie had entirely disconnected the bath-tub and disjointed the\npipes, which lay strewn over the white-tiled floor. He was hastily\nrolling up his bundle of tools.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m off,\u201d he said. \u201cIf the lady asks, tell her I\u2019ve gone for my tools.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen are you coming back?\u201d asked Wendell.\n\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d said the Pixie, blithely but hurriedly.\n\n\u201cBut aren\u2019t you going to put the plumbing together again?\u201d asked Wendell\nin dismay. \u201cThey can\u2019t ever do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI guess they can do it as well as I can,\u201d returned the Pixie. \u201cI never\ntook even a correspondence course in plumbing. So long.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what about me?\u201d protested Wendell.\n\n\u201cWell, here you are,\u201d said the Pixie impatiently. \u201cYou said if I once\ngot you in here, you\u2019d be all right. I\u2019ve got to be on the way.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but don\u2019t you think the Giant may come?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do, indeed,\u201d said the Pixie, who was now at the top of the stairs.\n\u201cIn fact, I saw him only a moment ago coming down the street.\u201d\n\nWith these words, he hurried down, opened and closed the front door,\nswiftly but cautiously, and before Wendell had recovered from the shock,\nthere rose the purr of the motor, and the car was off.\n\nIts sound had hardly died away, when there came a heavy tread on the\npiazza that shook the house, the door was violently thrown open, and a\nhuge voice roared,\n\n    \u201c_Fee, fi, fo, fum!_\n     _I smell the blood of--_\u201d\n\nThe roar stopped short. Wendell heard the Stepmother\u2019s voice.\n\n\u201cI wish you\u2019d learn to control that fee, fi, fo, fum business!\u201d she\nscolded. \u201cYou scared the cook so badly with it this morning that she\ngave notice, and here I\u2019ve had to cook the dinner. It may have been all\nright back in Cornwall several hundred years ago, but it doesn\u2019t go\nhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019m sure,\u201d said the Giant, \u201cI didn\u2019t mean anything. I _do_ smell\nthe blood of some one.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s that plumber upstairs,\u201d she said. \u201cCome in and eat your dinner.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlumber?\u201d said the Giant, and followed her into the dining-room.\n\nThey shut the door, but the Giant\u2019s roar was so loud that Wendell could\nstill hear his part of the conversation, like one end of a telephone\ntalk.\n\n\u201cWhere is the leak?\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cHow did you know there was one, then?\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t. No such thing.\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWell, if he said I called him up, he\u2019s probably a gang of thieves. I\u2019ll\nget the police. What did he look like?\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\u201cWith a small boy, eh? I _knew_ I smelled small boy. I\u2019ll bet he\u2019s one\nof these Giant-killer smarties. I\u2019ll soon fix him.\u201d He rose, shaking the\nhouse with his heavy tread.\n\nWendell was a brave boy, but who wouldn\u2019t quail before an angry giant?\nWendell quailed. He looked around for a place to hide.\n\nThe bathroom occupied a little ell with eaves, and under the eaves ran a\nwainscoting, broken by a little door that was evidently the entrance to\na low closet. Wendell opened it and crawled in, not quite closing the\ndoor, as it had no handle on the inside. He crouched behind a trunk,\npulled down some old clothes from a nail to cover him, and kept very\nstill, all but his heart, which thumped loudly.\n\n\u201cThey\u2019re not here,\u201d he heard the Stepmother say. \u201cIt looks as if they\nwere coming back, though.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey _are_ here,\u201d roared the Giant. \u201cThe small boy\u2019s here. I can smell\nhim. He\u2019s in that closet.\u201d\n\nHe flung open the door.\n\n\u201cBring a light,\u201d he commanded.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE CLOAK OF DARKNESS\n\n\nThe Stepmother went out and came back with a flashlight.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d she said.\n\nThe Giant flashed it into the closet, yanked out the trunk, flashed the\nlight in again, straight into Wendell\u2019s face, as he crouched there\nhalf-covered by old clothes.\n\n\u201cHe isn\u2019t here,\u201d said the Giant.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said his wife.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s _been_ in here, though,\u201d declared the Giant, sniffing. \u201cStrong\nsmell of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cProbably the man had him crawl in there to see if there was any leak in\nthe connection,\u201d suggested the Stepmother. \u201cI hope he\u2019ll come back and\nfinish up soon. This place is a mess.\u201d\n\nWhat did it mean? They were looking straight at him. The light was\nshining full on him. Yet they didn\u2019t see him, not any more than if he\nwere invisible.\n\n_Invisible!_ Why, of course! The invisible cloak--the Cloak of Darkness\nthat he had come to find! It must be this musty old garment that he had\npulled down to conceal him in his fright. Sure enough! And now came the\nterrifying thought,--in another moment the door might be closed upon\nhim, and he shut fast in a prison from which there would be no easier\nescape than if it were a veritable Giant\u2019s dungeon in a fairy book. He\nmust get out at once. He drew the musty folds securely about him,\ncrawled forward, dodged under the Giant\u2019s very arm, squeezed close to\nthe wall to pass the Stepmother, made himself small, not to crowd the\nUgly Stepsister, all agog in the doorway, slid down the banisters,\nsneaked through the kitchen, out the back door, and away. He was free!\n\nHe scudded down the street as fast as his legs could twinkle, and turned\nthe corner. Which way to go, was the question. A nice-looking lady was\napproaching. Wendell politely took off his cap and confronted her as she\nreached him. To his surprise, the lady sailed by without twitching a\nfeature.\n\n\u201cOh, of course. She can\u2019t see me,\u201d said Wendell. So he slipped off the\ncloak and hung it over his arm, and in a moment a grocer\u2019s delivery boy\nwith a basket came around the curve.\n\n\u201cSay, can you tell me where to get the car for Park Street?\u201d asked\nWendell.\n\n\u201cSure, kid,\u201d said the boy obligingly. \u201cKeep on to a big house with a\nstone wall around it. Then take the first street to the right and you\u2019ll\ncome out on the car line.\u201d\n\nWendell thanked him and went on, found the house and the wall and the\nstreet, and there ahead of him were the electric wires. He got to the\ncorner almost simultaneously with the car, hailed it and jumped on with\na sigh of relief. It was a pay-as-you-enter car. He stood by the box and\nslid his hand into his pocket for the necessary dime, to realize with a\nshock that he hadn\u2019t a cent with him. These were his cast-off clothes.\nHe knew it was useless to search the pockets. He remembered he had gone\nthrough them a week ago, when the ice cream-sandwich man was going by.\nHe grinned at the conductor, feeling very foolish, and dropped off the\ncar.\n\nWell, of course, he could walk it all right, since he had to. It would\nbe simple to follow the car tracks. He stuck his hands in his pockets\nand started off whistling.\n\n\u201cHey, kid, you\u2019re dragging your mother\u2019s cape,\u201d said a young fellow who\npassed him. Wendell folded the Cloak of Darkness into a better shape for\ncarrying, then decided to wear it. After he had it on, the inspiration\ncame to him to board an electric at the next white post, and ride home\nfree.\n\nPerfectly simple! He got on behind an unsuspecting gentleman and took a\nseat near the door. Across the aisle sat a cross-eyed man. Wendell had\nalways longed for a chance to see how a cross-eyed man worked his eyes,\nbut he had never been allowed to stare at any one. Now he sat and stared\nto his heart\u2019s content, unforbidden and unseen. He stared with such\nconcentration that he was unaware that another passenger had entered the\ncar, a very stout old colored woman, until, ouch! she sat right down on\nhim!\n\n\u201cLaws-ee!\u201d she said, and rose up quickly, and Wendell jumped for another\nseat as fast as his crushed condition would permit. The old woman turned\nto apologize--to an empty seat! Her jaw dropped in surprise, she glared\nall around the car, and then lowered herself cautiously into the seat,\nstill muttering.\n\nWendell felt so secure in his invisibility, that he made no attempt to\nrestrain his laughter. He roared with mirth, and rocked, and slapped his\nknee, till he noticed that the passengers were all looking to see which\none of them was responsible for this unseemly noise. This struck Wendell\nas funnier than ever. He laughed uncontrollably, but he didn\u2019t forget\nagain to keep an eye on the door; and whenever anyone got on after that,\nWendell rose to his feet with a promptitude that would have earned him a\nmedal as the most courteous boy in Greater Boston, if the Courtesy\nContest Editor of the _Post_ could have seen him.\n\nAs the car proceeded northward, the seats were filled more and more,\ntill there was no room for Wendell to sit. Towards the end of his ride,\nit really was too crowded for comfort, for other standing passengers\nstood on his feet, and wedged him in to small spaces, and lurched\nagainst him with the motion of the car, and then apologized to somebody\nelse, till he was very glad when they arrived at Park Street, and he\ncould run for home. He went in with the cloak under his arm and hid it\nin his bureau drawer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nBLIND MAN\u2019S BUFF WITH THE GIANT\n\n\nThe Pixie dropped in as usual after supper, and tried to act as if\nnothing had happened; \u201cbut he can\u2019t get away with _that_,\u201d said Wendell\nto himself.\n\n\u201cHello, old sport,\u201d said the Pixie in an offhand way. \u201cHow are the\nfractions?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, they\u2019re all there,\u201d returned Wendell, \u201cbut, I say, what do you mean\nby sneaking off and leaving me this afternoon? I\u2019d like to know that.\u201d\n\n\u201cI _didn\u2019t_ sneak,\u201d said the Pixie indignantly. \u201cI mentioned that I was\ngoing. I _never_ sneak.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019d like to know what you call it then. You didn\u2019t wait for me, did\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cWhy, I\u2019m awfully sorry, old chap. I thought you\nweren\u2019t ready to come home when I left.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you wait till I was, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, that would have seemed so like hurrying you,\u201d explained the Pixie,\ngently. \u201cNo one can do a really artistic job with that being-waited-for\nfeeling. By the way, did you make any headway? Get any line on the\ncloak?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I got it all right,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cBut you might have waited to\nsee.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope I didn\u2019t seem rude,\u201d said the Pixie, penitently. \u201cReally, to be\nfrank, I never did take much interest in the second-hand clothing trade;\nand perhaps I made it too evident that I was a bit bored. I\u2019ll wait for\nyou next time.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can take it from me there won\u2019t be any next time,\u201d returned Wendell\nin a rude voice that was a sad contrast to the Pixie\u2019s gentlemanly\nmanner. \u201cI\u2019m going alone to-morrow. I guess the Cloak of Darkness will\nbe worth several dozens of your old transformations. So there!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure you will regret this hasty expression of feeling when you\ntake time to think it over, my dear young friend,\u201d said the Pixie,\ngravely yet kindly. \u201cI think I would better leave you until you come to\nyour better self.\u201d\n\nHe instantly vanished from sight.\n\nA few minutes later he put his head in at the door and said in a\nforgiving tone, \u201cThere are your fractions,\u201d and shut the door again.\n\nWendell felt much aggrieved. He knew that the Pixie had treated him\nbadly, and was now trying to make it appear that _he_ was at fault, and\nhe resolved that he would really go all alone for the Cap of Thought and\nrely entirely upon the Cloak of Darkness for his success. So after\nschool the next day, he rolled the Cloak of Darkness under his arm,\nmade sure that he had enough money for carfare in his pockets this\ntime, and took the car at Park Street for Brookline.\n\nAfter he got off the car, Wendell adjusted the Cloak of Darkness, and\nwalked on with entire assurance and a high spirit of adventure to the\nGiant\u2019s house.\n\nHe went up the neat brick steps and tried the front door with great\ncaution. But it did not yield. Then he went around to the back door, and\nthat was much better, for the door was open, and he walked straight in\nand found the Cruel Stepmother and the Ugly Stepsister getting dinner in\nthe kitchen.\n\n\u201cThese grapes aren\u2019t very good, Mummer,\u201d remarked the young lady, \u201cnot\nnearly so good as the ones last week.\u201d\n\n\u201cNaturally,\u201d returned the witch, somewhat grimly. \u201cI had to pay for\nthese.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, of course,\u201d said her daughter. \u201cYou didn\u2019t have your Cloak of\nDarkness when you went marketing to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the High Cost of Living is something awful when the market-man can\nsee you every minute, and you can\u2019t take a thing without paying for it,\u201d\ncomplained her mother. \u201cIf I don\u2019t find that Cloak soon, I just hope the\ngovernment will get after those dishonest profiteers.\u201d\n\n\u201cMummer,\u201d said her daughter, thoughtfully, after a moment.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t your Cloak in the bathroom closet?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but I\u2019ve hunted all through and I\u2019m sure it isn\u2019t there.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Mummer,--I hate to think of it--but those plumbers yesterday--\u201d\n\nThe witch gasped and sat down heavily. \u201cMy word! You\u2019re right! That\u2019s\njust where it\u2019s gone!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the Cap of Thought--was that with it?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I\u2019m glad to say. That\u2019s in my bottom bureau drawer.\u201d\n\nWendell waited for no more. He tiptoed out and ran lightly upstairs.\nNow, which room was it? This front one, of course. He opened the lowest\ndrawer of the bureau. Yes, there it lay, a little filmy cap of\nindescribable color.\n\nThe front door banged suddenly. Wendell picked up the cap and tiptoed\ninto the hall and looked over the banisters. Ah! but he was thankful\nthen for the Cloak of Darkness. For there stood the Giant. And while\nWendell watched him, fascinated and secure, the Giant\u2019s huge nose began\nto twitch like a rabbit\u2019s, he sniffed, and then roared out,\n\n\u201cFee, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood--no, I _won\u2019t_ be quiet!--of an\nEnglishman. Be he alive--well, your cook\u2019s _gone_, isn\u2019t she? she can\u2019t\nbe any _goner_!--or be he dead, I\u2019ll grind his bones--hold on! it smells\njust like that boy that was here yesterday. Where is he?\u201d He bellowed\nout the question.\n\nThis roused tremendous excitement in the family. Both women talked at\nonce:--\u201cthe little wretch!\u201d--\u201cpositive he stole my Cloak\u201d--\u201cgot away\ninvisible\u201d--\u201cshan\u2019t get away this time\u201d--\u201cLock the doors, mummer!\u201d--\u201cbut\nwe can\u2019t see him\u201d--\u201cI\u2019ll soon sniff him out\u201d--this last from the Giant.\n\nWendell stood transfixed at the head of the stairs, clutching the Cap.\nDid he dare descend? No, for the Giant growled out, \u201cHe\u2019s upstairs, all\nright,\u201d and started up the flight. Wendell fled before him and turned\nback into the front bedroom, the Giant sniffing close at his heels.\n\nThere was an open window in the room, but Wendell dared not risk a jump\nfrom the second story. There ran rapidly through his mind all the\nexpedients that he could remember, from his reading of wild animal\nbooks, for throwing the hunter off the trail of the quarry. If he could\ndouble on his track,--but the track was too short. If he could climb to\na height and break the scent by leaping off,--but the chiffonier was the\nhighest thing in sight. If he could follow a stream of running water. He\nwondered whether there was anything to gain by making a dash for the\nbathroom. The Giant had adopted a horribly sure method. Crouching at the\nheight of a boy, with hands outstretched to touch the wall on either\nside, he advanced slowly across the room. Wendell stood at bay in a\ncorner, helpless, desperate, but still game.\n\nJust then the telephone rang. The Giant paused to say, \u201cIf that\u2019s for\nme, I can\u2019t be bothered now. Take the number and say I\u2019ll call \u2019em\nlater,\u201d and that one moment of interruption gave Wendell a chance to\nduck under the mighty monster\u2019s arm and seek refuge in the other corner\nbehind his back. But he knew that his respite was but momentary.\nAlthough the Ugly Stepsister had gone to answer the telephone, the Witch\nstill blocked the door, and as the Giant reached the other wall\nfruitlessly, he sniffed intently and once more started across the room.\nWendell felt sure that he stood face to face with his last moment of\nlife. He jammed the Cap on his head to leave both hands free, drew out\nand opened his jackknife and prepared to sell his life dearly.\n\n[Illustration: HE SAW THE GIANT PASS THE WINDOW AGAIN]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE CAP OF THOUGHT\n\n\nAlmost drowned by the continuous bellow of the Giant, and yet coming\ndistinctly to his consciousness, he seemed to hear, or rather feel, a\nlow monotonous voice that bore a resemblance to the Giant\u2019s speaking\ntone, and yet had no quality of roar about it:--\u201cI must shut that\nwindow. If he should jump out of that to the porch roof, he could easily\nclimb down the trellis.\u201d\n\n_It was the Giant, thinking!_\n\nWendell took a chance and jumped for the window. Just in time! As he\nlanded on the porch roof, the window was slammed behind him. He went\nbackwards down the trellis, and just before his eyes dropped below the\nlevel, he saw the Giant pass the window again, pursuing the scent, which\ndoubtless still lingered. Spent and breathless though he was, fright\nurged the boy on, and he ran two blocks, then dropped under a tree in a\ngarden and lay at full length on his back with the Cloak around him. He\nlay there a long while, slowly recovering from his terrible exhaustion\nand gradually getting his nerve back. At length he rose, took off and\nfolded his Cloak, put on his cloth cap, which he had stuffed into his\npocket on entering the Giant\u2019s house, and walked on to the electric car.\nHe had quite forgotten the Cap of Thought, which he was still wearing\nunder his own cap,--and that single fact shows how dazed the encounter\nwith the Giant had left him. But as soon as he got on the car, he was\nreminded of the Cap by the babel of thoughts that greeted him. The\nundercurrent was a low expressionless hum blending indistinctly from\nminds intent upon the newspapers; but other thoughts reached him clearly\nand stridently:--\u201cIf the stores aren\u2019t closed, I\u2019ll try to get some of\nthat blue denim for Jackie\u2019s overalls.\u201d \u201cIf he does ask me to the next\ndance, I really think I ought to have a new pink georgette.\u201d \u201cI can\u2019t\naccount for that dollar--let me see, fifteen cents for the cigar,\nseventeen cents for the soda, that leaves sixty-eight and five\u201d--. Above\nthem all, one insistent thought reiterated, savagely, \u201cIf he calls me\nthat again, I\u2019ll show him where he gets off!\u201d\n\nWendell was very anxious to examine the Cap of Thought more closely. The\nbrief time that he had held it in his hands in the Giant\u2019s house had\nbeen so crowded with other impressions that he had but an indistinct\nconception of his new treasure. He went straight to his room and took it\noff and was delighted with its beauty. At first sight it seemed to be\nmade of gray cobwebs closely woven together into an almost colorless\nfabric, but in certain lights it looked as if woven of strands of glass\nin rainbow colors. As there was no one upstairs to try its magic\nproperties on, Wendell decided to wear it in the library after dinner,\nand find out what his family was thinking about. He noticed in the\nglass, with great satisfaction, that the Cap took on the color of his\nown brown hair, so that it was barely visible.\n\nThere was a pleasant group in the library when he joined them after\ndinner. They were all very quiet. His mother was darning stockings, his\nfather reading the _Transcript_ and occasionally reading some item\naloud, and his Latin School brother playing checkers with Cousin\nVirginia. Yet the room was filled, to Wendell\u2019s sensitive consciousness,\nwith a fine hum, as of conversation. He sat down quietly behind his\nmother, who had not heard him come in.\n\n\u201cAnd then,\u201d she went on thinking, \u201che will step down from the stage,\nwith everyone applauding wildly and saying, \u2018Yes, that\u2019s the one. That\u2019s\nWendell Cabot Bradford, the prize orator, the greatest public speaker\nHarvard has ever produced.\u2019\u201d Turning, she saw Wendell, gave him a loving\nsmile, and wondered why he looked so red and uncomfortable.\n\nHe tried his father next, and was greatly interested to hear two trains\nof thought going on in his mind at once, one on the widening of State\nStreet (the subject discussed in the editorial that he was reading), and\nthe other apparently a memory of a telephone conversation he had held\nthat afternoon with the head-master of Wendell\u2019s school. He seemed to\nbe turning over in his mind, while he read the editorial, the best\nmethod of introducing the subject under discussion into a conversation\nwith Wendell; and as the subject under discussion had been the very\npainful one of Wendell\u2019s low standing, Wendell decided to go to bed at\nonce. He paused long enough to learn that his brother Otis\u2019 thought had\nnothing to do with checkers, but was idly resting on a dimple in the\ncheek of a Dedham girl named Dorothy, whom Wendell had never heard of\n(but he treasured the name in memory for future diplomatic use); and\nthat Cousin Virginia was thinking:--\u201cOh, to be in New York now the\ntoddle\u2019s there! Boston! Checkers!! Baked Beans!!! Antimacassars!!!!\nSilhouettes!!!!! Pantalettes!!!!!!! I shall die!\u201d\n\nThe telephone rang. Wendell offered to go, as he was \u201cjust starting for\nbed anyway.\u201d It proved to be someone asking for him.\n\n\u201cDo you know who this is?\u201d asked an eager girlish voice. \u201cCan\u2019t you\nguess? It\u2019s the Beauteous Maiden. I knew you would want to hear from me,\nbut I had _such_ a time finding you! I didn\u2019t know how you were listed.\nYes, I\u2019m getting on beautifully. Oh, yes, the contract is signed. We did\nit that day. The president of the producing company is delighted with\nme. He says I shall film beautifully. He says my youth, innocence, and\nbeauty will make me the most popular girl in America.--How are you\nprogressing with the invisible cloak?--You have? How perfectly splendid!\nAnd the Cap of--? You have? How perfectly wonderful! And the Book? No,\nI don\u2019t know where she keeps it. I never saw it. But she always keeps\nthe attic locked and never let me up there, so that might be--Oh, let me\ngive you my phone number. You must let me know, of course, how it comes\nout.\u201d\n\nWendell wrote it down, but there was a queer sinking in the place where\nhe kept his heart--or his stomach: he didn\u2019t know which. He was\nremembering the Kobold\u2019s remark about marrying the Beauteous Maiden.\nWhenever he thought of it, he was attacked by that same curious sinking.\nWhat a brainless fellow that Kobold was, to be sure, just as the Pixie\nhad said! He rather wished he hadn\u2019t been so short with the Pixie last\nnight. He was a well-meaning chap, after all, and a fiend at fractions.\n\nWhen he got upstairs to his room, there was the Pixie waiting for him,\nand Wendell was really very glad to see him, and decided not to reopen\nthe subject of the Pixie\u2019s precipitate flight from the Giant\u2019s house.\n\nThe Pixie was tremendously interested in the Cap of Thought. He tried it\non, and also the Cloak of Darkness, and had Wendell try them both on to\nshow how they worked. And the Pixie gave some very kind advice as to\ngetting possession of the magic book, and offered to work some of his\nbest transformation spells; but Wendell had his plan all made and laid\nit before the Pixie. It was, to go out very early Saturday morning, when\nhe would have a holiday from school, watch the house till the Giant had\nleft, and thus have the whole day ahead of him, to search the premises.\nHe relied on the magic Cloak and Cap to help him out of any\ndifficulties that might arise.\n\n\u201cWell, perhaps that\u2019s the best plan,\u201d assented the Pixie. \u201cAnd of\ncourse, if you find it necessary, you can count on me to change you into\nanything we think most useful. For instance, you might like to be\nchanged to a moving truck, if this magic book is like any other magic\nbooks I\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you mean?\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cWell, the subject matter is pretty heavy, you know. It makes the book\nrather weighty.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, does it?\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI didn\u2019t know.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd another thing I want to warn you of,\u201d said the Pixie seriously.\n\u201cDon\u2019t read any charm aloud, till you know what it\u2019s for. They ought to\nmake those magic books fool-proof, but they don\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll remember,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE MAGIC BOOK\n\n\nWendell had counted on having a good deal of sport with the Cloak of\nDarkness and the Cap of Thought, wearing them around the house and\noutdoors, and even in school, but he was a bit afraid to risk any\naccident to them before the eventful Saturday. So he locked them\nsecurely in his chiffonier until that morning.\n\nIt was usually very hard to get him to wake up Saturday mornings, but\nthis Saturday was an exception. He was up with the lark,--if there had\nbeen any,--ate his breakfast before the rest of the family came down,\nand was soon on his way over the now familiar route, to the Brookline\nhouse. He had timed it nicely. The Giant was just leaving as he got\nthere; and Wendell, only too well aware that his scent was now\nwell-known to the Giant, scuttled down a side street until the monster\nwas out of sight.\n\nInto the familiar kitchen once more, and all through the house, went\nWendell. The mother and daughter were doing the upstairs work and\nWendell sat around with them for some time, following a confusion of\nmost uninteresting household details that ran through their minds.\n\nAt length he was repaid.\n\n\u201cI guess I\u2019ll get my warm quilt out for the winter,\u201d thought the girl.\n\u201cIt\u2019s getting cold these nights. Now, _where_ did Mummer put that attic\nkey? If I ask her, she probably won\u2019t tell me, just to be mean. I\u2019ll\nhunt around, instead.\u201d\n\nPresently, the Witch went downstairs, and her daughter took that\nopportunity to look through her mother\u2019s bureau drawers; and after some\nsearch, she found it.\n\n\u201cI\u2019d better wait,\u201d she thought, \u201ctill Mummer goes marketing. Then I\u2019ll\nput the key back again and say nothing about it.\u201d\n\nBut she had no sooner gone downstairs, herself, than Wendell took the\nkey and unlocked the attic door. He took the precaution of locking it\nagain on the inside, so that there could be no intrusion while he was\nsearching for the Book. He chuckled to think how chagrined the Ugly\nStepsister would be when she went to look for the key and thought her\nmother had changed its hiding-place.\n\nThe attic was a large unfinished room with peaked roof. It was only in\nthe middle that one could stand upright. There was some old furniture\nand there were several trunks. Wendell tried the trunks first. One was\nlocked, with the key still in the lock, and opened easily. And there,\ninside, among a store of pillow cases and towels, lay what was\nundoubtedly the Magic Book. It was as easy as that!\n\nThe Book was about as large as Webster\u2019s Unabridged. It was bound in\nvery dark, smooth leather, all worn and frayed at the corners, and\nfastened with a heavy iron clasp. It did look heavy, just as the Pixie\nhad said, but Wendell seized it firmly, and attempted to lift it with an\nenergy that almost pulled his arms from their sockets. For the Book\ndidn\u2019t lift a fraction of an inch. It might have been soldered to the\ntrunk.\n\n\u201cMy! It _is_ weighty! He was right!\u201d gasped the boy.\n\nHe tried again, and again; but the book must have weighed tons. There\nwas no lifting it.\n\nWendell considered the matter. There must be something he could do,--but\nwhat? Of course, he could go home and tell the Pixie and get changed\ninto something strong,--a yoke of oxen, or an elephant. But this was\nSaturday. The Pixie had done Monday\u2019s fractions Friday night, and\nprobably wouldn\u2019t be around again till Monday night. Well, well, what a\ndisappointment!\n\nHe sat down on the edge of the trunk and examined the volume. There was\nno title on the cover. He undid the clasp and opened the Book at random.\nYes, this was undoubtedly it. The quaint old lettering showed it, the\nlong strange words. He spelled out what seemed a perfectly meaningless\nsentence.\n\nWhish-sh-sht! A prolonged rushing noise like a sky-rocket, and there\nstood before him a strange and uncouth figure. It was a man somewhat\nabove average height, wearing a costume that Wendell thought was\noriental, though he had never seen anything like it before.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d faltered Wendell.\n\n\u201cI am the Slave of the Charm,\u201d replied the stranger. \u201cI have answered\nyour summons. What are your commands?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t quite understand,\u201d gasped Wendell. \u201cPlease explain.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou said the magic words that summon me,\u201d repeated the apparition. \u201cI\nam here to do your bidding.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I see,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cGood work! Please take this Book home for\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cI obey,\u201d returned the stranger. He lifted the Book on his shoulder,\nturned down the stairs and vanished straight through the locked door.\n\nWendell scrambled after him, first drawing around him the Cloak of\nDarkness, which he had thrown off. Not being a magic apparition,\nhimself, he was forced to unlock the door to get through, and this\ndelayed him a moment. So he caught just a glimpse of the genie,\nvanishing through the front door without opening it. But the witch and\nher daughter had seen him go and seen the Book on his shoulder; and the\ndaughter\u2019s mind was whirling like a merry-go-round, as Wendell easily\nperceived.\n\nHowever, it was quite otherwise with her mother. The former witch sat on\nthe lowest step of the stairs, with such a happy and peaceful look that\nWendell hardly knew her. \u201cFree at last!\u201d she was exulting\n\n[Illustration: \u201cI AM THE SLAVE OF THE CHARM,\u201d REPLIED THE STRANGER]\n\ninwardly. \u201cI have lost the Cloak and the Cap and now the Book, and at\nlast I am disenchanted.\u201d Wendell was glad she felt so good about it. He\nstayed invisible, never-the-less, and hurried out after his slave, who\nwas now nowhere in sight. His trail could be followed, however, by a\nlong line of small boys, stringing out after him as if they were running\nto a fire. As it seemed impossible to overtake him on foot, Wendell took\nan electric for home. Evidently, his slave was there before him, to\njudge from the excitement that still reigned among the boys on his\nblock. \u201cSay, Wendell,\u201d they hailed him, \u201cyou ought to \u2019a seen the guy\nthat just went into your house!\u201d\n\nWendell found the front door intact, and went up to his room. There on\nhis study table lay the Book. The slave had vanished. Wendell\u2019s first\nimpulse was to read it from cover to cover, but he was mindful of the\nPixie\u2019s warning. He had already had one demonstration of the wonderful\npower and immediate operation of its charms. This once, it had turned\nout very neatly for him, but he might not be so fortunate another time.\nSo he opened the Book very gingerly and pressed his lips tight together,\nfor fear of being betrayed by his intense interest into reading some\npowerful and dangerous passage aloud.\n\nThe first thing that Wendell noticed was that it was all written or\nprinted by hand and was evidently the work of different persons; that\nis, the letters, some in print, some in script, changed their character\nfrom page to page, and the ink was in varying degrees of paleness, as if\nthe transcription had been made at different epochs. Wendell observed\nalso that the pages of paper differed. In fact, some of them were not\npaper at all. There were pages of very thin leather of different shades,\nand a sort of tough fibrous substance (that was parchment, had Wendell\nknown it), and some strips of bark, like bark of the birch or ash. And\nthere were paper leaves, also, but yellowed and old, none of it modern.\nThe Book was evidently a bound collection of old manuscripts, brought\ntogether from what sources, by what means, and through how many ages,\nthe boy could not even guess. But it was a fascinating thing for\nmagic-loving Wendell to examine, even though much of it was\nunintelligible, and much more of no possible use to Wendell. He turned\nthe brittle, fragile pages with the utmost care, fingering each at the\nright-hand top corner, and turning the entire page with his flat hand,\nvery, very carefully.\n\nThe titles of the chapters, or charms, or whatever they were, delighted\nhim beyond measure:--\n\n    \u201cHOW TO TURN WOOD INTO SILVER.\n     HOW TO TURN BASE METALS INTO GOLD.\n     HOW TO MAKE IRON FLOAT.\n     TO CHANGE AN INFANT PRINCE INTO A HUMMING BIRD.\n     TO CUT OFF A DRAGON\u2019S HEAD.\n     HOW TO UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS.\n     HOW TO MAKE A FLYING SHIP.\u201d (\u201cHuh! Magic aviation!\u201d commented Wendell.)\n     \u201cTHE EASIEST WAY TO DISENCHANT A DUMB PRINCESS.\n     HOW TO MAKE WINGED SANDALS.\n     SOME TRIED METHODS FOR KILLING GIANTS.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere you are, Wendell, my boy,\u201d said a friendly voice, and Wendell\nlooked around and found that the Pixie was looking over his shoulder at\nthe Book.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nA CHOICE OF CHARMS\n\n\n\u201cHello, old sport!\u201d said Wendell; \u201cI didn\u2019t expect you till Monday.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I just dropped in,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cGreat book, isn\u2019t it? But, go\neasy, son, go easy. Danger, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I am going easy,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI haven\u2019t read one word out loud.\nIt\u2019s some book, though!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet\u2019s read that thing about giants,\u201d suggested the Pixie. \u201cThat ought\nto just suit your case.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose there\u2019s no harm in reading _this_ aloud,\u201d said Wendell,\nhesitatingly. \u201cJust sort of directions, you see.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo slowly,\u201d commanded the Pixie. \u201cAnd if you see any charm coming to\nmeet you, stop short.\u201d\n\nWendell read:--\n\n    \u201c\u2018SOME TRIED METHODS FOR KILLING GIANTS.\n\n\u201c\u2018Method ye first:--To kill a giant--\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cPut salt on his tail,\u201d interpolated the Pixie.\n\n\u201cPlease listen,\u201d said Wendell, and went on,--\n\n\u201c\u2018Dig a hole deeper than his height a few steps from his door. Cover it\nwith branches of trees. Standing on the further side, away from his\nhouse, taunt him in a loud voice. When he rushes out, he will fall into\nthe hole, and can be easily despatched.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cBy whom?\u201d inquired the Pixie, after deep thought. \u201cI vote, _not_ by\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, here\u2019s another,\u201d said Wendell. \u201c\u2018Method ye second:--Assume the\ndisguise of a wayworn traveler. Knock at the giant\u2019s door and ask for a\nnight\u2019s lodging.\u2019--I can\u2019t do that,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cHe knows me by\nsmell.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind. Read it through,\u201d said the Pixie.\n\n\u201c\u2018He will tell you that he has no extra bed, but that you are welcome to\nshare his son\u2019s.\u2019--Yes, but he hasn\u2019t a son,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cNever mind. It\u2019s interesting. Go on,\u201d said the Pixie.\n\n\u201c\u2018When you go to bed, he will put a gold chain around his son\u2019s neck and\na hempen rope round your neck. As soon as he has left you, put the\nhempen rope round his son\u2019s neck and the gold chain round your own neck,\nand then feign sleep. After a time, the giant will return. He will feel\nfor the gold chain, and finding it on your neck, and the hempen rope on\nhis son\u2019s neck, he will cut off his son\u2019s head with his sword. You must\nthen wait until you hear the giant\u2019s snores, and rising quickly\u2019--\u201d\n\n\u201cTaking care,\u201d suggested the Pixie, \u201cnot to step on a tack.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018--make your way to his bedside, and lop off his head with his own\nsword.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cToo much shortening in that recipe,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cTry another.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Giant-killing as recommended by Puss-in-Boots,\u2019\u201d read Wendell.\n\u201c\u2018Invite the giant to a feast at your castle, and after he is in a good\nhumor, make a wager that you can change yourself into an animal more\nquickly than he can. Change yourself into a cat; and whatever form the\ngiant assumes, whether that of lion, tiger, leopard, or what-not, let\nthe onlookers declare that the contest is a draw and that the trial must\nbe made again. Convince the giant that in order to insure a perfectly\nfair trial, both contestants should change to the same shape, and choose\nthat of a mouse. At the word, allow the giant to take the shape of a\nmouse, while you retain that of a cat, and immediately devour him.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThat sounds rather good,\u201d said the Pixie approvingly. \u201cYou\u2019d have to\npractice your transformations at home, first, of course, and be sure you\nhave the charm down pat.\u201d\n\nWendell did not answer immediately. \u201cSay, that gives me an idea,\u201d he\nfinally declared. \u201cWhy kill the Giant, anyway?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo please the Beauteous Maiden, of course,\u201d said the Pixie.\n\n\u201cYes, but why _kill_ him?\u201d questioned Wendell. \u201cWhy not just change him\ninto something good and harmless and useful. The Beauteous Maiden would\nlike that just as well, wouldn\u2019t she?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, you can ask her,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cThis is the age of\nlabor-saving. Only, killing seems more definite, somehow, more final.\nBut you can ask her.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll try to get her on the \u2019phone, now,\u201d said Wendell, \u201cand you be\nthinking up something to change him to. And say, look in the Book and\nfind the charm for it.\u201d\n\nWendell was gone for some time. \u201cI couldn\u2019t get her,\u201d he said when he\nreturned. \u201cBut I\u2019m sure she\u2019ll be willing. We\u2019ll go ahead and plan\nsomething anyway. Did you find a charm?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, loads of them,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cJust listen to these:--\n\n    \u201c\u2018TO CHANGE A HUMAN BEING INTO A TURTLE.\n      TO CHANGE A HUMAN BEING INTO A BUTTERFLY.\n      TO CHANGE A HUMAN BEING INTO A STONE--\u2019 That might be good,--\n     \u2018TO CHANGE A HUMAN BEING INTO A DRAGON--\u2019 He is that already.\u201d\n\n\u201cHold on,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cWe don\u2019t want any of those. Find a general\none, to change him into any old thing. We can decide what afterwards.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right,\u201d said the Pixie. \u201cI\u2019ll keep on looking, and you keep on\nthinking.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe might change him into a janitor,\u201d suggested Wendell, who had been\nlooking idly out of the window until his eye fell on the janitor of\nSammy\u2019s apartment house. \u201cHe\u2019s useful, you know. He puts out ashes and\nruns the furnace.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, that would never do,\u201d cried the Pixie. \u201cThat Giant has shown he\ncan\u2019t be trusted in any position of absolute authority and unlimited\ndespotism. You must curtail his powers instead of enlarging them.\u201d\n\n\u201cA cook would be good,\u201d said Wendell, who really had a very practical\nmind. \u201cMy mother and all her friends say there aren\u2019t enough cooks to go\n\u2019round.\u201d\n\n\u201cI told you,\u201d said the Pixie wearily, \u201cyou must curtail his powers. Just\nuse your brain a little. Isn\u2019t the cook the greatest power in the\nhousehold? Might as well leave him a giant and be done with it!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I can\u2019t think,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI don\u2019t know anything useful. A\nvictrola, perhaps. I wonder if the Beauteous Maiden has a victrola. I\u2019m\nsure she can think of something, anyhow.\u201d\n\nSure enough, the Beauteous Maiden was resourceful enough to meet the\nsituation. She called Wendell up herself, after school Monday, just as\nhe was going to the telephone to try to get her.\n\nOf course, Wendell had not been idle over Sunday. He had made himself\nthoroughly familiar with all the various charms for transforming people\nthat he could find in the Book. There was one first-class charm that\nsuited him to perfection, because it was adaptable. With this charm, you\ncould change anything to anything else, anywhere, at any time. Wendell\npracticed with it, in a harmless sort of way, quite a little, to be sure\nhe could work it. He changed his eraser to a bean-shooter, first, and\nshot beans at some cats on the back fence. Then he changed a very\nhandsome and unread copy of Macaulay\u2019s History of England that his aunt\nhad given him into a gold watch, which, however, he was careful to keep\nout of sight of the family, especially Cousin Virginia. He changed an\nold pen-wiper into a box of caramels. That was an inspiration. And in\nSunday school he changed a hymnal into a mouse that ran across the\nSunday school room and made quite a diversion. That was one of his\nsuccesses. He did another interesting thing. He changed Sammy\u2019s janitor\ninto a crab just as he was crossing the street. That was an easy change,\nbecause Sammy\u2019s janitor was something of a crab, anyway. He changed him\nback again, though, because a street on Beacon Hill is no place for a\ncrab. By the time he heard from the Beauteous Maiden, he felt quite\nready to carry out any suggestions she might offer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE HAPPY FAMILY\n\n\n\u201cI have so much to tell you,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden\u2019s happy voice\nover the telephone. \u201cListen. I\u2019ve heard from Mummer. She \u2019phoned. My\nCruel Stepmother, you know, only she isn\u2019t any more. She says she is\nentirely disenchanted, and she was perfectly lovely to me. I told her\nall about you, and she was so pleased. She wants to meet you, of course,\nbut I thought it was safer to wait until you had killed the Giant.\nMummer says he\u2019s terribly hard to get on with, now that she\u2019s stopped\nbeing a witch. He doesn\u2019t like it a bit. When do you think you can kill\nhim?\u201d\n\n\u201cI want to ask you about that,\u201d interrupted Wendell, and he laid his\nplan before her. \u201cThe Beauteous Maiden was very enthusiastic over it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBetter!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cOh, much better! Now what shall he be changed\nto? Something useful, as you say.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thought of a victrola,\u201d urged Wendell, who was fond of music. \u201cYou\nhaven\u2019t a victrola, have you? And every family needs one.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo--o, we haven\u2019t,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cThat\u2019s rather good, if\nwe can\u2019t think of anything better. But, let me see. What we\nreally need in our family, more than a victrola, even, is Social\nPlacement,--Background,--that sort of thing, you know. Even with Youth,\nInnocence, and Beauty, you do need Background, too, if you know what I\nmean. And it\u2019s been an awfully hard thing to manage--impossible,\nreally--with a Giant and a Witch right in plain sight in the family. Now\nwhat _can_ you change the Giant to that will be most useful for\nBackground?\u201d\n\n\u201cMayflower Society?\u201d said Wendell. \u201cSons of the American Revolution? We\nhave a lot of those in our family. That\u2019s what you mean, isn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn a way,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cBut those things aren\u2019t any use\nunless they are handled properly. I\u2019ll tell you the kind of thing I\nmean,--a Harvard professor, say. That would give us Atmosphere as well\nas Background.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they\u2019d have to create a special Chair for him, wouldn\u2019t they?\u201d\nhesitated Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhy, no,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cYou\u2019ll change him down small, of\ncourse, and then he can use any chair they have.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, all right,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI\u2019ll do it this afternoon, if you\nlike.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, will you?\u201d cried the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cThat will be simply\nwonderful. And we\u2019ll go out to call on them to-morrow afternoon if you\ncan.\u201d\n\nSo it was settled. Wendell was to work the charm at once and meet the\nMaiden at the Frog Pond after school next day. Of course, it was a\nperfectly easy thing for Wendell to do, after all his practice; so he\nwas sure the charm had worked, and felt entirely safe in going out to\nBrookline with the Beauteous Maiden next afternoon. She looked very\ncharming when he met her at the Frog Pond. Even though not liking her\ngeneral style, Wendell had to admit that she was good looking.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m making a tremendous success,\u201d she told him. \u201cAnd listen. I have\nsuch good news for the family. I\u2019ve got a job for my sister in character\nparts. Isn\u2019t that fine! Poor thing! Of course she never could play\nanything calling for Youth, Innocence and Beauty, but she has just the\nface for character parts. Don\u2019t you think so?\u201d\n\nHow very strange it seemed to Wendell to be alighting from the electric\nat the familiar corner, to be retracing his hazardous steps towards that\ndangerous house, in perfect safety, on an entirely conventional errand.\nHe said so to the Beauteous Maiden, and she smiled and answered softly.\n\n\u201cI know you ran some frightful risks for my sake. Believe me, I am not\nunappreciative, as time will show.\u201d\n\nWendell wished he hadn\u2019t mentioned it.\n\nThe neat white house was unchanged without, but the moment the Beauteous\nMaiden opened the door with her latch key and called, \u201cMummer, I\u2019m\nhere,\u201d Wendell was conscious of an entire change in the mental\natmosphere. The Good Stepmother came running out from the kitchen to\nmeet them. Her gray hair was arranged in a recent and becoming fashion;\nshe had had her projecting teeth out and had some new pivot teeth that\nlooked much better; and she wore an inexpensive but tasteful afternoon\nfrock. But the greatest change was in her sweet motherly face. She put\nher arms around the Beauteous Maiden, half laughing and half crying,\ncalled over her shoulder, \u201cDaughter, Daughter, here\u2019s your dear sister,\u201d\nand then drew her into the living-room for one more kiss. The Beauteous\nMaiden, for her part, looked up at her mother with all her Youth,\nInnocence, and Beauty shining in her eyes, and said,\n\n\u201cMummer, dear, you _must_ meet my Deliverer, Wendell Bradford. I can\u2019t\ntell in one breath how much he has done for me, but when you know it\nall, you will welcome him as a son even as you welcome me as a\ndaughter,\u201d and Wendell found himself folded in the Good Stepmother\u2019s\nembrace.\n\nHe was very much alarmed, and before he could escape, he found the\nStepsister giving him a sisterly kiss too.\n\n\u201cYou know,\u201d he explained, in horrible embarrassment, \u201cI\u2019m not old enough\nto think about marrying.\u201d He hoped this would end the matter, but the\nGood Stepmother said, \u201cI know she will wait for you, dear boy;\u201d at which\nWendell writhed, but tried to hide it.\n\nThen the ex-giant came in, and such a family reunion as took place then!\nThe present professor was a scholarly looking man with a benignant\nface. He welcomed the Beauteous Maiden with great affection, and shook\nWendell\u2019s hand cordially and called him a noble fellow.\n\nThe family had so much to talk about, after their long separation, that\nthey hardly knew where to begin. The Beauteous Maiden had told her\nmother over the telephone all about her success in the pictures; but of\ncourse her Stepsister had innumerable questions to ask her, for\nmovie-life is always fascinating to non-professionals. When the\nStepsister heard that the magic doors of movie-land had been opened to\nher, too, through this excellent offer to play character parts, she\nalmost wept for joy.\n\n\u201cAnd to think of my envy and jealousy of you, dear Sister,\u201d she said,\n\u201cand what kindness you are showing to me now, in spite of it all!\u201d\n\n\u201cHush! do not let us speak of that!\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden. \u201cYou\nknow, my Youth, Innocence, and Beauty are equalled only by my Beauty of\nCharacter.\u201d\n\nThen the family plans had to be discussed. The ex-giant was very happy\nin his professorship, and talked enthusiastically of the courses that he\nwas to give, and an annotated text-book that he had been asked to edit.\n\n\u201cThen there is the question of my library,\u201d he said. \u201cHave you any idea\nof the size of a college professor\u2019s library?\u201d\n\nWendell said he hadn\u2019t.\n\n\u201cWell, I haven\u2019t either,\u201d said the Professor. \u201cBut I\u2019ve been shopping\nfor a library this morning, and I talked with a very intelligent\nsecond-hand-bookstore man. He said five feet was the standard length\nfor a student\u2019s library, and he showed me several five-foot-lengths that\nhad been turned in to him by college students--in excellent condition.\nSome of them, indeed, looked as if they had never been opened. I bought\nten lengths. Don\u2019t you think fifty feet of library should be about right\nfor a professor, if five feet is required for a student?\u201d\n\nWendell and the family, after some intelligent discussion of this point,\nagreed with him.\n\nWendell was feeling quite at home with his new acquaintances by this\ntime. The Professor sat in a big Morris chair with the Beauteous Maiden\non a cricket at his feet, while his hand strayed lovingly among her\ncurls. The Stepsister perched with one arm around the Professor\u2019s neck.\nOn the sofa, the motherly Stepmother sat beside Wendell and leaned over\noccasionally to pat his hand. It was altogether a charming scene of\nfamily happiness, such as is too rare, alas! in these modern days of\nautomobiling, jazz, and summer camps. Wendell was thinking how happy\nthey all seemed, when the Stepsister suddenly said,\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll have me for bridesmaid, won\u2019t you, dearest?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course, dear, if Wendell agrees with me,\u201d said the Beauteous Maiden,\nsmiling.\n\nPoor Wendell! With all his heart he wished that he had never become\ninvolved in his heroic role. Of course, as Deliverer, he _had_ to marry\nthe Beauteous Maiden, but he did not conceal from himself the fact that\nhe had never really fancied her. \u201cEven when she was a Frog,\u201d he thought,\n\u201cI didn\u2019t want her around.\u201d He was thoroughly unhappy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nSAMMY TRIES HIS HAND\n\n\nThe Stepsister brought him some lemonade and delicious nutcakes before\nthey left, and Wendell felt better after he had eaten five of them.\nStill, he was glad when the affectionate farewells were over, and he and\nthe Beauteous Maiden were once more on their way to Boston.\n\nBy chance, they met on the electrics a friend of the Beauteous Maiden\u2019s,\na moving-picture friend, her leading man, in fact. He seemed very, very\nglad to see the Beauteous Maiden. After being introduced to Wendell, he\nsat down on the other side of the Beauteous Maiden, and began to talk to\nher very low and earnestly. The Beauteous Maiden was evidently\nuncomfortable. She kept turning around and trying to include Wendell in\nthe conversation, and she laughed a good deal at whatever the young man\nwas saying, and tried to make light of what was apparently to him a\nserious matter.\n\nNow Wendell had the Cap of Thought in his pocket, and as he couldn\u2019t\nhear one word that the young man was saying and the Beauteous Maiden\nevidently didn\u2019t wish him to be left out, he took out the Magic Cap and\nslipped it on under his own cap as a convenience.\n\nAround him rose the confused babble of many thoughts; but to his utmost\namazement, close beside him was a sound of sobbing, of heart-breaking\nsobbing, although the Beauteous Maiden was laughing gayly.\n\nAnd what was she thinking? \u201cOh, my dear Deliverer, I must marry you when\nyou grow up. The Deliverer always expects it. And never, _never_, shall\nI let you suspect that this young man who plays my leading parts is the\nonly man in the world for me, that I love him as maiden never loved\nbefore. No, though his heart and mine shall break, I shall uphold the\ntraditions of all fairy tales and marry you according to the book.\u201d\n\nAn old gentleman, reading his paper across the aisle, received a great\nshock at this moment. His paper was suddenly dashed from his hand by a\nboy\u2019s cap, which descended suddenly from above. It was Wendell\u2019s\ncap,--not the magic one,--and he had thrown it in the air with a sudden\n\u201cHurrah!\u201d as he heard what the Beauteous Maiden was thinking.\n\nAfter he had picked up the old gentleman\u2019s paper and apologized, he\npulled at the sleeve of the Beauteous Maiden and said,\n\n\u201cListen here a minute. I heard what you thought.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d asked the Maiden.\n\n\u201cI have on the Cap of Thought,\u201d said Wendell.\n\n\u201cWhy, so you have,\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cAnd I wish you wouldn\u2019t feel so bad,\u201d he went on. \u201cYou can marry the\nyoung man just as well as not. I don\u2019t want you to wait for me. By the\ntime I\u2019m grown up, I may like some other girl better. Anyway, you just\nneedn\u2019t consider me. Suit yourself entirely.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you mean that? Really?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cI certainly do,\u201d said Wendell fervently.\n\n\u201cOh, how perfectly wonderful!\u201d she cried; and then Wendell took off his\nCap of Thought, for her thoughts of the young man grew so enthusiastic\nthat Wendell was rather bored by listening in.\n\n\u201cWell, that\u2019s well over,\u201d he said to himself gayly \u201cAnd I\u2019m certainly\ncoming out of this adventure all to the good. There\u2019s the Pixie doing my\nfractions for me. There\u2019s the Cloak of Darkness and the Cap of Thought\nwhenever I want to do a little sleuthing, and there\u2019s the Magic Book for\nall-\u2019round enchantment. I certainly am in luck.\u201d\n\nAt Park Street he said good-bye to the grateful Beauteous Maiden and her\nleading man and started along Joy Street for home, with a\nlight-heartedness that he had not known for days. He turned into his own\nstreet and there was Sammy Davis, shinnying up a street lamp.\n\n\u201cHi, Sam!\u201d he called. \u201cCome on over.\u201d He suddenly realized that he had\nlost track of Sammy lately, with so many magic tasks on foot.\n\n\u201cCome on in, Sam,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve got something to show you.\u201d\n\nSam came in.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s up in my room,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cCome on up.\u201d\n\nOnce there, Wendell brought out the Cloak of Darkness.\n\n\u201cIs that all?\u201d asked Sammy.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s enough, _I_ guess,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cYou just wait.\u201d\n\nHe threw the Cloak around his shoulders. Sammy stared open-mouthed. He\ngazed around the room, then started up in fright and rushed to the open\nwindow.\n\n\u201cHere I am,\u201d cried Wendell, and stood there grinning, visible once more.\n\nWhile Sammy still stood staring, Wendell pulled the Cloak around himself\nagain, and laughed outright at Sammy\u2019s face. Then he came into sight\nagain and asked generously,\n\n\u201cWant to try it yourself?\u201d\n\nOf course Sammy wanted to; and the boys took turns being \u201cit\u201d in a novel\nkind of blind-man\u2019s-buff, which was a great deal more fun to Wendell\nthan when he had played the same game with the Giant.\n\nAfter that, Wendell brought out the Cap of Thought and adjusted it to\nhis head. \u201cNow think of something, Sammy,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cThink of what?\u201d asked Sammy, his mind immediately becoming a perfect\nblank, as Wendell could feel.\n\n\u201cOh, say a verse,\u201d suggested Wendell. \u201cThat\u2019s right:--\u2018Listen, my\nchildren, and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cGee, Wendell! How do you do it?\u201d asked Sammy in bewilderment.\n\n\u201cTry it again,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cI get you. \u2018The breaking waves dashed\nhigh On a stern and rockbound coast.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI know something,\u201d said Sammy. \u201cYou hold on a minute. I got you stung\nthis time.\u201d\n\nSure enough! Though Wendell could get the sounds perfectly, they were\ntoo unfamiliar for him to repeat.\n\n\u201cI can\u2019t _say_ it,\u201d he explained, \u201cbut I can hear it all right. It\u2019s\nsome foreign language. I\u2019ll bet it\u2019s Yiddish.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it is,\u201d said Sammy. \u201cNow let me try.\u201d\n\nSo Wendell put the Cap on Sammy\u2019s head and thought, \u201cSammy Davis, you\u2019re\na nut!\u201d and Sammy grinned and enjoyed the joke on himself.\n\n\u201cGee, Wendell!\u201d said Sammy. \u201cYou certainly are in luck. You can go\nanywhere and find out anything. You are a lucky dog!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes sir!\u201d said Wendell. \u201cAnd I\u2019ll never have to study again. I can just\nwear this Cap in school and when the teacher gives out a question, I\u2019ll\nread the answer right in his mind, and say it right off. I\u2019ll do that\nall through school and all through college, and then when I\u2019m in\nbusiness, I\u2019ll put on the Cloak and go right into the offices of all the\nbig business men, Rockefeller and Henry Ford and everybody, and wear the\nCap and find out just what they are thinking and how they make their\nmoney, and I\u2019ll make mine the same way.\u201d\n\n\u201cGee!\u201d said Sammy again and could find no further speech.\n\n[Illustration: BEFORE THE BOYS\u2019 TERRIFIED VISION STOOD A HORRIBLE\nDEMON]\n\n\u201cAnd that isn\u2019t all,\u201d said Wendell. \u201cHere\u2019s the biggest thing yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it anyway?\u201d demanded Sammy, looking suspiciously at the magic\nvolume.\n\n\u201c_A Book of Spells_,\u201d said Wendell impressively.\n\n\u201cHuh! A spelling book, eh?\u201d echoed Sammy unenthusiastically.\n\n\u201cNO, no,\u201d said Wendell. \u201c_Spells._ Charms, you know. Enchantments. Look\nhere,\u201d turning the pages: \u201c\u2018HOW TO TURN BASE METALS INTO GOLD.\u2019 \u2018THE\nEASIEST WAY TO DISENCHANT A DUMB PRINCESS.\u2019 \u2018SOME TRIED METHODS FOR\nKILLING GIANTS.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cHey! Lem_me_ see,\u201d cried Sammy. \u201cSome book, I\u2019ll say. \u2018HOW TO PLACE A\nLOST RING IN A FISH\u2019S MOUTH.\u2019 What do you know! \u2018HOW TO LOCATE THE PLACE\nWHERE TREASURE IS BURIED.\u2019 Some book, I\u2019ll tell the world! Say, some of\nthis don\u2019t make much sense, does it? \u2018_Abacadabra, alaka, balaka_,--\u2019\u201d\nhe spelled out a word or two.\n\nA horrible odor filled the room,--like burnt scrambled eggs, thought\nWendell. There floated before his eyes a dimness as of smoke. It took\nshape of an awful humanness, and took color as of white ashes. It slowly\ntook on a dull glow, which brightened until before the boys\u2019 terrified\nvision stood a horrible demon, angrily glowing a fiery red. He gave out\nheat like a kitchen stove on ironing-day, and the rug where he stood\nbegan to smoke.\n\n\u201cWhat are your commands?\u201d he hissed.\n\nThere were none. Both boys were through the door and downstairs before\nhe had finished the question. Sammy fled in terror before that frightful\napparition, and Wendell went to bring Sammy back,--but he didn\u2019t think\nof that good reason till afterwards. Neither boy paused in flight till\nthe street was reached.\n\n\u201cDid he have hoofs and a tail?\u201d gasped Sammy.\n\nThey stared up at the top windows. A jet of flame shot up. The muslin\nwindow curtain was on fire.\n\n\u201cFire!!!\u201d yelled Sammy, dashing down the street to the alarm box.\nWendell--this to his credit--ran back into the burning house and alarmed\nthe family. Mrs. Bradford rushed for her jewels. Cousin Virginia, with\ngreat presence of mind, put in a fire call by telephone. Sammy\u2019s alarm\nhad already reached the fire station on Mt. Vernon Street. Almost as\nVirginia left the telephone, the clang of the engines was heard, and a\nline of firemen carried the hose upstairs, with their formula, \u201cIs\neverybody out?\u201d The servants rushed clamoring to the street. Virginia\nran to help and reassure Mrs. Bradford, and Wendell followed the last\nfireman up to his room.\n\nThe smoke was so dense that at first he could see nothing. Then he saw\nthat the stream of chemical had extinguished all the flames, and was now\ndirected at a fiery pillar in a sort of human shape that glowed redly\nthrough the smoke. Wendell alone knew what it was. Little by little the\nangry glow faded to white ashes. Gradually it dimmed to floating smoke.\nThe fire was out. The smoke cleared. The firemen withdrew. The family\nassembled to view the blackened walls, to sniff the depressing odor, as\nof a burnt-out district, to exclaim over the havoc and ruin wrought in\nthose few minutes.\n\n\u201cHow did it happen?\u201d everyone asked, and\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d said Wendell helplessly. How could he explain?\n\n\u201cWasn\u2019t that Sammy Davis in here?\u201d asked the cook. \u201cYou two boys were up\nto something, _I_ know.\u201d\n\nHis pretty room was a thing of the past--completely burnt out. The walls\nwere black. A few charred rags had once been window curtains. A sodden\nrag underfoot was his rug. The closet was burned through. Blackened\nshreds of garments hung on the nails. Wendell\u2019s desk was but charred\ntimbers. His books were paper ashes.\n\n\u201cI know why Wendell looks so woe-begone!\u201d said Cousin Virginia. \u201cHis\nschool books are burned.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry, dear,\u201d said his mother. \u201cEverything is covered by\ninsurance. You wanted your room re-decorated, you know, and it is easy\nto replace the clothes and books.\u201d\n\nAh, yes, but who could replace the Cloak of Darkness? Who could restore\nthe Cap of Thought? What insurance would cover the Book of Spells?\nWendell was doomed once more to the drudgery of other mortals, to\nlearning his lessons like other boys, to plodding his toilsome way\nthrough college, to making his own business success, unaided by the\ngreat minds of the world\u2019s financiers. No wonder he stood there glum\nand almost tearful amid the blackened ruins of his room and of his\nfuture.\n\nThen suddenly, as he stood by the window, his eyes fell upon the street\nbelow and the crowd of neighbor boys still lingering about the scene of\nthe fire, and upon the stone post that stood at the entrance to the\ncourt over the way. And his eyes brightened to something like happy\nanticipation as he said under his breath,\n\n\u201cWell, anyway, I have one wish left on the Wishing Stone.\u201d","title":"It's Your Fairy Tale, You Know","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":26042}