[Illustration: He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the boots andgoloshes fell off him like spray off a bather. --P. 24. ]

THE MAGIC WORLD

BYE. NESBIT

AUTHOR OF'THE TREASURE SEEKERS, ' 'THE WONDERFUL GARDEN, ''THE MAGIC CITY, ' ETC. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BYH. R. MILLAR and SPENCER PRYSE

MACMILLAN AND CO. , LIMITEDST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON1924

_First published by Macmillan & Co. 1912_

CONTENTS PAGE 1. The Cat-hood of Maurice 1

 2. The Mixed Mine 27

 3. Accidental Magic 58

 4. The Princess and the Hedge-pig 96

 5. Septimus Septimusson 126

 6. The White Cat 148

 7. Belinda and Bellamant 160

 8. Justnowland 185

 9. The Related Muff 206

 10. The Aunt and Amabel 218

 11. Kenneth and the Carp 233

 12. The Magician's Heart 260

ILLUSTRATIONS

 He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the boots and goloshes fell off him like spray off a bather (p. 24) _Frontispiece_

 FACE PAGE 'If you think cats have such a jolly time, ' said Lord Hugh, 'why not _be_ a cat?' 7

 It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his terrors 14

 He landed there on his four padded feet light as a feather 17

 When Jane went in to put Mabel's light out, Maurice crept in too 21

 Her bow went down suddenly 28

 'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed 35

 Far above him and every one else towered the elephant 39

 It became a quite efficient motor 42

 Quentin de Ward 58

 It landed on the point of the chin of Smithson major 67

 'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you by the Sacred Tau!' 79

 The cart was drawn by an enormous creature, more like an elephant than anything else 85

 'Silence!' cried the priest. 'Chosen of the Immortals, close your eyes!' 91

 On the lower terrace the royal nurse was walking up and down with the baby princess that all the fuss was about 98

 Instantly a flight of winged arrows crossed the garden 109

 'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand spears, ' she said, 'to give you what you wish' 123

 So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing to say harder than ever 208

 We scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall 213

 Sidney threw the rug over her, and rolled her over and over 215

 Early next morning he tried to catch fish with several pieces of string knotted together and a hairpin 235

 A radiant vision stepped into the circle of light 241

 There was a splash 248

 'Oh, good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped at the worm 256

I

THE CAT-HOOD OF MAURICE

To have your hair cut is not painful, nor does it hurt to have yourwhiskers trimmed. But round wooden shoes, shaped like bowls, are notcomfortable wear, however much it may amuse the onlooker to see you tryto walk in them. If you have a nice fur coat like a company promoter's, it is most annoying to be made to swim in it. And if you had a tail, surely it would be solely your own affair; that any one should tie a tincan to it would strike you as an unwarrantable impertinence--to say theleast. 

Yet it is difficult for an outsider to see these things from the pointof view of both the persons concerned. To Maurice, scissors in hand, alive and earnest to snip, it seemed the most natural thing in the worldto shorten the stiff whiskers of Lord Hugh Cecil by a generous inch. Hedid not understand how useful those whiskers were to Lord Hugh, both insport and in the more serious business of getting a living. Also itamused Maurice to throw Lord Hugh into ponds, though Lord Hugh onlyonce permitted this liberty. To put walnuts on Lord Hugh's feet and thento watch him walk on ice was, in Maurice's opinion, as good as a play. Lord Hugh was a very favourite cat, but Maurice was discreet, and LordHugh, except under violent suffering, was at that time anyhow, dumb. 

But the empty sardine-tin attached to Lord Hugh's tail and hindlegs--this had a voice, and, rattling against stairs, banisters, and thelegs of stricken furniture, it cried aloud for vengeance. Lord Hugh, suffering violently, added his voice, and this time the family heard. There was a chase, a chorus of 'Poor pussy!' and 'Pussy, then!' and thetail and the tin and Lord Hugh were caught under Jane's bed. The tailand the tin acquiesced in their rescue. Lord Hugh did not. He fought, scratched, and bit. Jane carried the scars of that rescue for many along week. 

When all was calm Maurice was sought and, after some little naturaldelay, found--in the boot-cupboard. 

'Oh, Maurice!' his mother almost sobbed, 'how _can_ you? What will yourfather say?'

Maurice thought he knew what his father would do. 

'Don't you know, ' the mother went on, 'how wrong it is to be cruel?'

'I didn't mean to be cruel, ' Maurice said. And, what is more, he spokethe truth. All the unwelcome attentions he had showered on Lord Hugh hadnot been exactly intended to hurt that stout veteran--only it wasinteresting to see what a cat would do if you threw it in the water, orcut its whiskers, or tied things to its tail. 

'Oh, but you must have meant to be cruel, ' said mother, 'and you willhave to be punished. '

'I wish I hadn't, ' said Maurice, from the heart. 

'So do I, ' said his mother, with a sigh; 'but it isn't the first time;you know you tied Lord Hugh up in a bag with the hedgehog only lastTuesday week. You'd better go to your room and think it over. I shallhave to tell your father directly he comes home. '

Maurice went to his room and thought it over. And the more he thoughtthe more he hated Lord Hugh. Why couldn't the beastly cat have held histongue and sat still? That, at the time would have been adisappointment, but now Maurice wished it had happened. He sat on theedge of his bed and savagely kicked the edge of the green Kidderminstercarpet, and hated the cat. 

He hadn't meant to be cruel; he was sure he hadn't; he wouldn't havepinched the cat's feet or squeezed its tail in the door, or pulled itswhiskers, or poured hot water on it. He felt himself ill-used, and knewthat he would feel still more so after the inevitable interview with hisfather. 

But that interview did not take the immediately painful form expected byMaurice. His father did _not_ say, 'Now I will show you what it feelslike to be hurt. ' Maurice had braced himself for that, and was lookingbeyond it to the calm of forgiveness which should follow the storm inwhich he should so unwillingly take part. No; his father was alreadycalm and reasonable--with a dreadful calm, a terrifying reason. 

'Look here, my boy, ' he said. 'This cruelty to dumb animals must bechecked--severely checked. '

'I didn't mean to be cruel, ' said Maurice. 

'Evil, ' said Mr. Basingstoke, for such was Maurice's surname, 'iswrought by want of thought as well as want of heart. What about yourputting the hen in the oven?'

'You know, ' said Maurice, pale but determined, 'you _know_ I only wantedto help her to get her eggs hatched quickly. It says in "Fowls for Foodand Fancy" that heat hatches eggs. '

'But she hadn't any eggs, ' said Mr. Basingstoke. 

'But she soon would have, ' urged Maurice. 'I thought a stitch intime----'

'That, ' said his father, 'is the sort of thing that you must learn notto think. '

'I'll try, ' said Maurice, miserably hoping for the best. 

'I intend that you shall, ' said Mr. Basingstoke. 'This afternoon you goto Dr. Strongitharm's for the remaining week of term. If I find any morecruelty taking place during the holidays you will go there permanently. You can go and get ready. '

'Oh, father, _please_ not, ' was all Maurice found to say. 

'I'm sorry, my boy, ' said his father, much more kindly; 'it's all foryour own good, and it's as painful to me as it is to you--remember that. The cab will be here at four. Go and put your things together, and Janeshall pack for you. '

So the box was packed. Mabel, Maurice's kiddy sister, cried overeverything as it was put in. It was a very wet day. 

'If it had been any school but old Strong's, ' she sobbed. 

She and her brother knew that school well: its windows, dulled with wireblinds, its big alarm bell, the high walls of its grounds, bristlingwith spikes, the iron gates, always locked, through which gloomy boys, imprisoned, scowled on a free world. Dr. Strongitharm's was a school'for backward and difficult boys. ' Need I say more?

Well, there was no help for it. The box was packed, the cab was at thedoor. The farewells had been said. Maurice determined that he wouldn'tcry and he didn't, which gave him the one touch of pride and joy thatsuch a scene could yield. Then at the last moment, just as father hadone leg in the cab, the Taxes called. Father went back into the house towrite a cheque. Mother and Mabel had retired in tears. Maurice used thereprieve to go back after his postage-stamp album. Already he wasplanning how to impress the other boys at old Strong's, and his wasreally a very fair collection. He ran up into the schoolroom, expectingto find it empty. But some one was there: Lord Hugh, in the very middleof the ink-stained table-cloth. 

'You brute, ' said Maurice; 'you know jolly well I'm going away, or youwouldn't be here. ' And, indeed, the room had never, somehow, been afavourite of Lord Hugh's. 

'Meaow, ' said Lord Hugh. 

[Illustration: 'If you think cats have such a jolly time, ' said LordHugh, 'why not _be_ a cat?']

'Mew!' said Maurice, with scorn. 'That's what you always say. All thatfuss about a jolly little sardine-tin. Any one would have thought you'dbe only too glad to have it to play with. I wonder how you'd like beinga boy? Lickings, and lessons, and impots, and sent back from breakfastto wash your ears. You wash yours anywhere--I wonder what they'd say tome if I washed my ears on the drawing-room hearthrug?'

'Meaow, ' said Lord Hugh, and washed an ear, as though he were showingoff. 

'Mew, ' said Maurice again; 'that's all you can say. '

'Oh, no, it isn't, ' said Lord Hugh, and stopped his ear-washing. 

'I say!' said Maurice in awestruck tones. 

'If you think cats have such a jolly time, ' said Lord Hugh, 'why not_be_ a cat?'

'I would if I could, ' said Maurice, 'and fight you----'

'Thank you, ' said Lord Hugh. 

'But I can't, ' said Maurice. 

'Oh, yes, you can, ' said Lord Hugh. 'You've only got to say the word. '

'What word?'

Lord Hugh told him the word; but I will not tell you, for fear youshould say it by accident and then be sorry. 

'And if I say that, I shall turn into a cat?'

'Of course, ' said the cat. 

'Oh, yes, I see, ' said Maurice. 'But I'm not taking any, thanks. I don'twant to be a cat for always. '

'You needn't, ' said Lord Hugh. 'You've only got to get some one to sayto you, "Please leave off being a cat and be Maurice again, " and thereyou are. '

Maurice thought of Dr. Strongitharm's. He also thought of the horror ofhis father when he should find Maurice gone, vanished, not to be traced. 'He'll be sorry, then, ' Maurice told himself, and to the cat he said, suddenly:--

'Right--I'll do it. What's the word, again?'

'----, ' said the cat. 

'----, ' said Maurice; and suddenly the table shot up to the height of ahouse, the walls to the height of tenement buildings, the pattern on thecarpet became enormous, and Maurice found himself on all fours. He triedto stand up on his feet, but his shoulders were oddly heavy. He couldonly rear himself upright for a moment, and then fell heavily on hishands. He looked down at them; they seemed to have grown shorter andfatter, and were encased in black fur gloves. He felt a desire to walkon all fours--tried it--did it. It was very odd--the movement of thearms straight from the shoulder, more like the movement of the piston ofan engine than anything Maurice could think of at that moment. 

'I am asleep, ' said Maurice--'I am dreaming this. I am dreaming I am acat. I hope I dreamed that about the sardine-tin and Lord Hugh's tail, and Dr. Strong's. '

'You didn't, ' said a voice he knew and yet didn't know, 'and you aren'tdreaming this. '

'Yes, I am, ' said Maurice; 'and now I'm going to dream that I fight thatbeastly black cat, and give him the best licking he ever had in hislife. Come on, Lord Hugh. '

A loud laugh answered him. 

'Excuse my smiling, ' said the voice he knew and didn't know, 'but don'tyou see--you _are_ Lord Hugh!'

A great hand picked Maurice up from the floor and held him in the air. He felt the position to be not only undignified but unsafe, and gavehimself a shake of mingled relief and resentment when the hand set himdown on the inky table-cloth. 

'You are Lord Hugh now, my dear Maurice, ' said the voice, and a hugeface came quite close to his. It was his own face, as it would haveseemed through a magnifying glass. And the voice--oh, horror!--thevoice was his own voice--Maurice Basingstoke's voice. Maurice shrankfrom the voice, and he would have liked to claw the face, but he had hadno practice. 

'You are Lord Hugh, ' the voice repeated, 'and I am Maurice. I like beingMaurice. I am so large and strong. I could drown you in the water-butt, my poor cat--oh, so easily. No, don't spit and swear. It's badmanners--even in a cat. '

'Maurice!' shouted Mr. Basingstoke from between the door and the cab. 

Maurice, from habit, leaped towards the door. 

'It's no use _your_ going, ' said the thing that looked like a giantreflection of Maurice; 'it's _me_ he wants. '

'But I didn't agree to your being me. '

'That's poetry, even if it isn't grammar, ' said the thing that lookedlike Maurice. 'Why, my good cat, don't you see that if you are I, I mustbe you? Otherwise we should interfere with time and space, upset thebalance of power, and as likely as not destroy the solar system. Oh, yes--I'm you, right enough, and shall be, till some one tells you tochange from Lord Hugh into Maurice. And now you've got to find some oneto do it. '

('Maurice!' thundered the voice of Mr. Basingstoke. )

'That'll be easy enough, ' said Maurice. 

'Think so?' said the other. 

'But I sha'n't try yet. I want to have some fun first. I shall catchheaps of mice!'

'Think so? You forget that your whiskers are cut off--Maurice cut them. Without whiskers, how can you judge of the width of the places you gothrough? Take care you don't get stuck in a hole that you can't get outof or go in through, my good cat. '

'Don't call me a cat, ' said Maurice, and felt that his tail was growingthick and angry. 

'You _are_ a cat, you know--and that little bit of temper that I see inyour tail reminds me----'

Maurice felt himself gripped round the middle, abruptly lifted, andcarried swiftly through the air. The quickness of the movement made himgiddy. The light went so quickly past him that it might as well havebeen darkness. He saw nothing, felt nothing, except a sort of longsea-sickness, and then suddenly he was not being moved. He could seenow. He could feel. He was being held tight in a sort of vice--a vicecovered with chequered cloth. It looked like the pattern, very muchexaggerated, of his school knickerbockers. It _was_. He was being heldbetween the hard, relentless knees of that creature that had once beenLord Hugh, and to whose tail he had tied a sardine-tin. Now _he_ wasLord Hugh, and something was being tied to _his_ tail. Somethingmysterious, terrible. Very well, he would show that he was not afraid ofanything that could be attached to tails. The string rubbed his fur thewrong way--it was that that annoyed him, not the string itself; and asfor what was at the end of the string, what _could_ that matter to anysensible cat? Maurice was quite decided that he was--and would keep onbeing--a sensible cat. 

The string, however, and the uncomfortable, tight position between thosechequered knees--something or other was getting on his nerves. 

'Maurice!' shouted his father below, and the be-catted Maurice boundedbetween the knees of the creature that wore his clothes and his looks. 

'Coming, father, ' this thing called, and sped away, leaving Maurice onthe servant's bed--under which Lord Hugh had taken refuge, with histin-can, so short and yet so long a time ago. The stairs re-echoed tothe loud boots which Maurice had never before thought loud; he hadoften, indeed, wondered that any one could object to them. He wonderednow no longer. 

He heard the front door slam. That thing had gone to Dr. Strongitharm's. That was one comfort. Lord Hugh was a boy now; he wouldknow what it was to be a boy. He, Maurice, was a cat, and he meant totaste fully all catty pleasures, from milk to mice. Meanwhile he waswithout mice or milk, and, unaccustomed as he was to a tail, he couldnot but feel that all was not right with his own. There was a feeling ofweight, a feeling of discomfort, of positive terror. If he should move, what would that thing that was tied to his tail do? Rattle, of course. Oh, but he could not bear it if that thing rattled. Nonsense; it wasonly a sardine-tin. Yes, Maurice knew that. But all the same--if it didrattle! He moved his tail the least little soft inch. No sound. Perhapsreally there wasn't anything tied to his tail. But he couldn't be sureunless he moved. But if he moved the thing would rattle, and if itrattled Maurice felt sure that he would expire or go mad. A mad cat. What a dreadful thing to be! Yet he couldn't sit on that bed for ever, waiting, waiting, waiting for the dreadful thing to happen. 

'Oh, dear, ' sighed Maurice the cat. 'I never knew what people meant by"afraid" before. '

His cat-heart was beating heavily against his furry side. His limbs weregetting cramped--he must move. He did. And instantly the awful thinghappened. The sardine-tin touched the iron of the bed-foot. It rattled. 

'Oh, I can't bear it, I can't, ' cried poor Maurice, in a heartrendingmeaow that echoed through the house. He leaped from the bed and torethrough the door and down the stairs, and behind him came the mostterrible thing in the world. People might call it a sardine-tin, but heknew better. It was the soul of all the fear that ever had been or evercould be. _It rattled. _

Maurice who was a cat flew down the stairs; down, down--the rattlinghorror followed. Oh, horrible! Down, down! At the foot of the stairs thehorror, caught by something--a banister--a stair-rod--stopped. Thestring on Maurice's tail tightened, his tail was jerked, he was stopped. But the noise had stopped too. Maurice lay only just alive at the footof the stairs. 

It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed his terrors withstrokings and tender love-words. Maurice was surprised to find what anice little girl his sister really was. 

'I'll never tease you again, ' he tried to say, softly--but that was notwhat he said. What he said was 'Purrrr. '

[Illustration: It was Mabel who untied the string and soothed histerrors. ]

'Dear pussy, nice poor pussy, then, ' said Mabel, and she hid away thesardine-tin and did not tell any one. This seemed unjust to Mauriceuntil he remembered that, of course, Mabel thought that he was reallyLord Hugh, and that the person who had tied the tin to his tail was herbrother Maurice. Then he was half grateful. She carried him down, insoft, safe arms, to the kitchen, and asked cook to give him some milk. 

'Tell me to change back into Maurice, ' said Maurice who was quite wornout by his cattish experiences. But no one heard him. What they heardwas, 'Meaow--Meaow--Meeeaow!'

Then Maurice saw how he had been tricked. He could be changed back intoa boy as soon as any one said to him, 'Leave off being a cat and beMaurice again, ' but his tongue had no longer the power to ask any one tosay it. 

He did not sleep well that night. For one thing he was not accustomed tosleeping on the kitchen hearthrug, and the blackbeetles were too manyand too cordial. He was glad when cook came down and turned him out intothe garden, where the October frost still lay white on the yellowedstalks of sunflowers and nasturtiums. He took a walk, climbed a tree, failed to catch a bird, and felt better. He began also to feel hungry. A delicious scent came stealing out of the back kitchen door. Oh, joy, there were to be herrings for breakfast! Maurice hastened in and tookhis place on his usual chair. 

His mother said, 'Down, puss, ' and gently tilted the chair so thatMaurice fell off it. Then the family had herrings. Maurice said, 'Youmight give me some, ' and he said it so often that his father, who, ofcourse, heard only mewings, said:--

'For goodness' sake put that cat out of the room. '

Maurice breakfasted later, in the dust-bin, on herring heads. 

But he kept himself up with a new and splendid idea. They would give himmilk presently, and then they should see. 

He spent the afternoon sitting on the sofa in the dining-room, listeningto the conversation of his father and mother. It is said that listenersnever hear any good of themselves. Maurice heard so much that he wassurprised and humbled. He heard his father say that he was a fine, plucky little chap, but he needed a severe lesson, and Dr. Strongitharmwas the man to give it to him. He heard his mother say things that madehis heart throb in his throat and the tears prick behind those greencat-eyes of his. He had always thought his parents a little bit unjust. Now they did him so much more than justice that he felt quite small andmean inside his cat-skin. 

[Illustration: He landed there on his four padded feet light as afeather. ]

'He's a dear, good, affectionate boy, ' said mother. 'It's only his highspirits. Don't you think, darling, perhaps you were a little hard onhim?'

'It was for his own good, ' said father. 

'Of course, ' said mother; 'but I can't bear to think of him at thatdreadful school. '

'Well----, ' father was beginning, when Jane came in with the tea-thingson a clattering tray, whose sound made Maurice tremble in every leg. Father and mother began to talk about the weather. 

Maurice felt very affectionately to both his parents. The natural way ofshowing this was to jump on to the sideboard and thence on to hisfather's shoulders. He landed there on his four padded feet, light as afeather, but father was not pleased. 

'Bother the cat!' he cried. 'Jane, put it out of the room. '

Maurice was put out. His great idea, which was to be carried out withmilk, would certainly not be carried out in the dining-room. He soughtthe kitchen, and, seeing a milk-can on the window-ledge, jumped upbeside the can and patted it as he had seen Lord Hugh do. 

'My!' said a friend of Jane's who happened to be there, 'ain't that catclever--a perfect moral, I call her. '

'He's nothing to boast of this time, ' said cook. 'I will say for LordHugh he's not often taken in with a empty can. '

This was naturally mortifying for Maurice, but he pretended not to hear, and jumped from the window to the tea-table and patted the milk-jug. 

'Come, ' said the cook, 'that's more like it, ' and she poured him out afull saucer and set it on the floor. 

Now was the chance Maurice had longed for. Now he could carry out thatidea of his. He was very thirsty, for he had had nothing since thatdelicious breakfast in the dust-bin. But not for worlds would he havedrunk the milk. No. He carefully dipped his right paw in it, for hisidea was to make letters with it on the kitchen oil-cloth. He meant towrite: 'Please tell me to leave off being a cat and be Maurice again, 'but he found his paw a very clumsy pen, and he had to rub out the first'P' because it only looked like an accident. Then he tried again andactually did make a 'P' that any fair-minded person could have readquite easily. 

'I wish they'd notice, ' he said, and before he got the 'l' written theydid notice. 

'Drat the cat, ' said cook; 'look how he's messing the floor up. '

And she took away the milk. 

Maurice put pride aside and mewed to have the milk put down again. Buthe did not get it. 

Very weary, very thirsty, and very tired of being Lord Hugh, hepresently found his way to the schoolroom, where Mabel with patient toilwas doing her home-lessons. She took him on her lap and stroked himwhile she learned her French verb. He felt that he was growing very fondof her. People were quite right to be kind to dumb animals. Presentlyshe had to stop stroking him and do a map. And after that she kissed himand put him down and went away. All the time she had been doing the map, Maurice had had but one thought: _Ink!_

The moment the door had closed behind her--how sensible people were whoclosed doors gently--he stood up in her chair with one paw on the mapand the other on the ink. Unfortunately, the inkstand top was made todip pens in, and not to dip paws. But Maurice was desperate. Hedeliberately upset the ink--most of it rolled over the table-cloth andfell pattering on the carpet, but with what was left he wrote quiteplainly, across the map:--

 'Please tell Lord Hugh to stop being a cat and be Mau rice again. '

'There!' he said; 'they can't make any mistake about that. ' They didn't. But they made a mistake about who had done it, and Mabel was deprived ofjam with her supper bread. 

Her assurance that some naughty boy must have come through the windowand done it while she was not there convinced nobody, and, indeed, thewindow was shut and bolted. 

Maurice, wild with indignation, did not mend matters by seizing theopportunity of a few minutes' solitude to write:--

 'It was not Mabel it was Maur ice I mean Lord Hugh, '

because when that was seen Mabel was instantly sent to bed. 

'It's not fair!' cried Maurice. 

'My dear, ' said Maurice's father, 'if that cat goes on mewing to thisextent you'll have to get rid of it. '

[Illustration: When Jane went in to put Mabel's light out Maurice creptin too. ]

Maurice said not another word. It was bad enough to be a cat, but to bea cat that was 'got rid of'! He knew how people got rid of cats. In astricken silence he left the room and slunk up the stairs--he dared notmew again, even at the door of Mabel's room. But when Jane went in toput Mabel's light out Maurice crept in too, and in the dark tried withstifled mews and purrs to explain to Mabel how sorry he was. Mabelstroked him and he went to sleep, his last waking thought amazement atthe blindness that had once made him call her a silly little kid. 

If you have ever been a cat you will understand something of whatMaurice endured during the dreadful days that followed. If you have not, I can never make you understand fully. There was the affair of thefishmonger's tray balanced on the wall by the back door--the deliciouscurled-up whiting; Maurice knew as well as you do that one mustn't stealfish out of other people's trays, but the cat that he was didn't know. There was an inward struggle--and Maurice was beaten by the cat-nature. Later he was beaten by the cook. 

Then there was that very painful incident with the butcher's dog, theflight across gardens, the safety of the plum tree gained only just intime. 

And, worst of all, despair took hold of him, for he saw that nothing hecould do would make any one say those simple words that would releasehim. He had hoped that Mabel might at last be made to understand, butthe ink had failed him; she did not understand his subdued mewings, andwhen he got the cardboard letters and made the same sentence with themMabel only thought it was that naughty boy who came through lockedwindows. Somehow he could not spell before any one--his nerves were notwhat they had been. His brain now gave him no new ideas. He felt that hewas really growing like a cat in his mind. His interest in his mealsgrew beyond even what it had been when they were a schoolboy's meals. Hehunted mice with growing enthusiasm, though the loss of his whiskers tomeasure narrow places with made hunting difficult. 

He grew expert in bird-stalking, and often got quite near to a birdbefore it flew away, laughing at him. But all the time, in his heart, hewas very, very miserable. And so the week went by. 

Maurice in his cat shape dreaded more and more the time when Lord Hughin the boy shape should come back from Dr. Strongitharm's. He knew--whobetter?--exactly the kind of things boys do to cats, and he trembled tothe end of his handsome half-Persian tail. 

And then the boy came home from Dr. Strongitharm's, and at the firstsound of his boots in the hall Maurice in the cat's body fled withsilent haste to hide in the boot-cupboard. 

Here, ten minutes later, the boy that had come back from Dr. Strongitharm's found him. 

Maurice fluffed up his tail and unsheathed his claws. Whatever this boywas going to do to him Maurice meant to resist, and his resistanceshould hurt the boy as much as possible. I am sorry to say Maurice sworesoftly among the boots, but cat-swearing is not really wrong. 

'Come out, you old duffer, ' said Lord Hugh in the boy shape of Maurice. 'I'm not going to hurt you. '

'I'll see to that, ' said Maurice, backing into the corner, all teeth andclaws. 

'Oh, I've had such a time!' said Lord Hugh. 'It's no use, you know, oldchap; I can see where you are by your green eyes. My word, they doshine. I've been caned and shut up in a dark room and given thousands oflines to write out. '

'I've been beaten, too, if you come to that, ' mewed Maurice. 'Besidesthe butcher's dog. '

It was an intense relief to speak to some one who could understand hismews. 

'Well, I suppose it's Pax for the future, ' said Lord Hugh; 'if youwon't come out, you won't. Please leave off being a cat and be Mauriceagain. '

And instantly Maurice, amid a heap of goloshes and old tennis bats, feltwith a swelling heart that he was no longer a cat. No more of thoseundignified four legs, those tiresome pointed ears, so difficult towash, that furry coat, that contemptible tail, and that terribleinability to express all one's feelings in two words--'mew' and 'purr. '

He scrambled out of the cupboard, and the boots and goloshes fell offhim like spray off a bather. 

He stood upright in those very chequered knickerbockers that were soterrible when their knees held one vice-like, while things were tied toone's tail. He was face to face with another boy, exactly like himself. 

'_You_ haven't changed, then--but there can't be two Maurices. '

'There sha'n't be; not if I know it, ' said the other boy; 'a boy'slife's a dog's life. Quick, before any one comes. '

'Quick what?' asked Maurice. 

'Why tell me to leave off being a boy, and to be Lord Hugh Cecil again. '

Maurice told him at once. And at once the boy was gone, and there wasLord Hugh in his own shape, purring politely, yet with a watchful eyeon Maurice's movements. 

'Oh, you needn't be afraid, old chap. It's Pax right enough, ' Mauricemurmured in the ear of Lord Hugh. And Lord Hugh, arching his back underMaurice's stroking hand, replied with a purrrr-meaow that spoke volumes. 

'Oh, Maurice, here you are. It _is_ nice of you to be nice to Lord Hugh, when it was because of him you----'

'He's a good old chap, ' said Maurice, carelessly. 'And you're not half abad old girl. See?'

Mabel almost wept for joy at this magnificent compliment, and Lord Hughhimself took on a more happy and confident air. 

Please dismiss any fears which you may entertain that after this Mauricebecame a model boy. He didn't. But he was much nicer than before. Theconversation which he overheard when he was a cat makes him more patientwith his father and mother. And he is almost always nice to Mabel, forhe cannot forget all that she was to him when he wore the shape of LordHugh. His father attributes all the improvement in his son's characterto that week at Dr. Strongitharm's--which, as you know, Maurice neverhad. Lord Hugh's character is unchanged. Cats learn slowly and withdifficulty. 

Only Maurice and Lord Hugh know the truth--Maurice has never told it toany one except me, and Lord Hugh is a very reserved cat. He never atany time had that free flow of mew which distinguished and endangeredthe cat-hood of Maurice. 

II

THE MIXED MINE

The ship was first sighted off Dungeness. She was labouring heavily. Herpaint was peculiar and her rig outlandish. She looked like a golden shipout of a painted picture. 

'Blessed if I ever see such a rig--nor such lines neither, ' oldHawkhurst said. 

It was a late afternoon, wild and grey. Slate-coloured clouds droveacross the sky like flocks of hurried camels. The waves were purple andblue, and in the west a streak of unnatural-looking green light was allthat stood for the splendours of sunset. 

'She do be a rum 'un, ' said young Benenden, who had strolled along thebeach with the glasses the gentleman gave him for saving the little boyfrom drowning. 'Don't know as I ever see another just like her. '

'I'd give half a dollar to any chap as can tell me where she hailsfrom--and what port it is where they has ships o' that cut, ' saidmiddle-aged Haversham to the group that had now gathered. 

'George!' exclaimed young Benenden from under his field-glasses, 'she'sgoing. ' And she went. Her bow went down suddenly and she stood stern upin the water--like a duck after rain. Then quite slowly, with nounseemly hurry, but with no moment's change of what seemed to be herfixed purpose, the ship sank and the grey rolling waves wiped out theplace where she had been. 

Now I hope you will not expect me to tell you anything more about thisship--because there is nothing more to tell. What country she came from, what port she was bound for, what cargo she carried, and what kind oftongue her crew spoke--all these things are dead secrets. And a deadsecret is a secret that nobody knows. No other secrets are dead secrets. Even I do not know this one, or I would tell you at once. For I, atleast, have no secrets from you. 

[Illustration: Her bow went down suddenly. ]

When ships go down off Dungeness, things from them have a way of beingwashed up on the sands of that bay which curves from Dungeness toFolkestone, where the sea has bitten a piece out of the land--just sucha half-moon-shaped piece as you bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter. Bits of wood tangled with ropes--broken furniture--ships' biscuits inbarrels and kegs that have held brandy--seamen's chests--and sometimessadder things that we will not talk about just now. 

Now, if you live by the sea and are grown-up you know that if you findanything on the seashore (I don't mean starfish or razor-shells orjellyfish and sea-mice, but anything out of a ship that you would reallylike to keep) your duty is to take it up to the coast-guard and say, 'Please, I've found this. ' Then the coast-guard will send it to theproper authority, and one of these days you'll get a reward of one-thirdof the value of whatever it was that you picked up. But two-thirds ofthe value of anything, or even three-thirds of its value, is not at allthe same thing as the thing itself--if it happened to be the kind ofthing you want. But if you are not grown-up and do not live by the sea, but in a nice little villa in a nice little suburb, where all thefurniture is new and the servants wear white aprons and white caps withlong strings in the afternoon, then you won't know anything about yourduty, and if you find anything by the sea you'll think that findings arekeepings. 

Edward was not grown-up--and he kept everything he found, includingsea-mice, till the landlady of the lodgings where his aunt was threw hiscollection into the pig-pail. 

Being a quiet and persevering little boy he did not cry or complain, but having meekly followed his treasures to their long home--the pigwas six feet from nose to tail, and ate the dead sea-mouse as easilyand happily as your father eats an oyster--he started out to make a newcollection. 

And the first thing he found was an oyster-shell that was pink and greenand blue inside, and the second was an old boot--very old indeed--andthe third was _it_. 

It was a square case of old leather embossed with odd little figures ofmen and animals and words that Edward could not read. It was oblong andhad no key, but a sort of leather hasp, and was curiously knotted withstring--rather like a boot-lace. And Edward opened it. There wereseveral things inside: queer-looking instruments, some rather like thosein the little box of mathematical instruments that he had had as a prizeat school, and some like nothing he had ever seen before. And in a deepgroove of the russet soaked velvet lining lay a neat little brasstelescope. 

T-squares and set-squares and so forth are of little use on a sandyshore. But you can always look through a telescope. 

Edward picked it out and put it to his eye, and tried to see through ita little tug that was sturdily puffing up Channel. He failed to find thetug, and found himself gazing at a little cloud on the horizon. As helooked it grew larger and darker, and presently a spot of rain fell onhis nose. He rubbed it off--on his jersey sleeve, I am sorry to say, andnot on his handkerchief. Then he looked through the glass again; but hefound he needed both hands to keep it steady, so he set down the boxwith the other instruments on the sand at his feet and put the glass tohis eye again. 

He never saw the box again. For in his unpractised efforts to cover thetug with his glass he found himself looking at the shore instead of atthe sea, and the shore looked so odd that he could not make up his mindto stop looking at it. 

He had thought it was a sandy shore, but almost at once he saw that itwas not sand but fine shingle, and the discovery of this mistakesurprised him so much that he kept on looking at the shingle through thelittle telescope, which showed it quite plainly. And as he looked theshingle grew coarser; it was stones now--quite decent-sized stones, large stones, enormous stones. 

Something hard pressed against his foot, and he lowered the glass. 

He was surrounded by big stones, and they all seemed to be moving; somewere tumbling off others that lay in heaps below them, and others wererolling away from the beach in every direction. And the place where hehad put down the box was covered with great stones which he could notmove. 

Edward was very much upset. He had never been accustomed to great stonesthat moved about when no one was touching them, and he looked round forsome one to ask how it had happened. 

The only person in sight was another boy in a blue jersey with redletters on its chest. 

'Hi!' said Edward, and the boy also said 'Hi!'

'Come along here, ' said Edward, 'and I'll show you something. '

'Right-o!' the boy remarked, and came. 

The boy was staying at the camp where the white tents were below theGrand Redoubt. His home was quite unlike Edward's, though he also livedwith his aunt. The boy's home was very dirty and very small, and nothingin it was ever in its right place. There was no furniture to speak of. The servants did not wear white caps with long streamers, because therewere no servants. His uncle was a dock-labourer and his aunt went outwashing. But he had felt just the same pleasure in being shown thingsthat Edward or you or I might have felt, and he went climbing over thebig stones to where Edward stood waiting for him in a sort of pit amongthe stones with the little telescope in his hand. 

'I say, ' said Edward, 'did you see any one move these stones?'

'I ain't only just come up on to the sea-wall, ' said the boy, who wascalled Gustus. 

'They all came round me, ' said Edward, rather pale. 'I didn't see anyone shoving them. '

'Who're you a-kiddin' of?' the boy inquired. 

'But I _did_, ' said Edward, 'honour bright I did. I was just taking asquint through this little telescope I've found--and they came rollingup to me. '

'Let's see what you found, ' said Gustus, and Edward gave him the glass. He directed it with inexpert fingers to the sea-wall, so little troddenthat on it the grass grows, and the sea-pinks, and even convolvulus andmock-strawberry. 

'Oh, look!' cried Edward, very loud. 'Look at the grass!'

Gustus let the glass fall to long arm's length and said 'Krikey!'

The grass and flowers on the sea-wall had grown a foot and ahalf--quite tropical they looked. 

'Well?' said Edward. 

'What's the matter wiv everyfink?' said Gustus. 'We must both be a bitbalmy, seems ter me. '

'What's balmy?' asked Edward. 

'Off your chump--looney--like what you and me is, ' said Gustus. 'First Isees things, then I sees you. '

'It was only fancy, I expect, ' said Edward. 'I expect the grass on thesea-wall was always like that, really. '

'Let's have a look through your spy-glass at that little barge, ' saidGustus, still holding the glass. 'Come on outer these 'erepaving-stones. '

'There was a box, ' said Edward, 'a box I found with lots of jolly thingsin it. I laid it down somewhere--and----'

'Ain't that it over there?' Gustus asked, and levelled the glass at adark object a hundred yards away. 'No; it's only an old boot. I say, this is a fine spy-glass. It does make things come big. '

'That's not it. I'm certain I put it down somewhere just here. Oh, _don't_!'

[Illustration: 'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed. ]

He snatched the glass from Gustus. 

'Look!' he said, 'look!' and pointed. 

A hundred yards away stood a boot about as big as the bath you see Maratin at Madame Tussaud's. 

'S'welp me, ' said Gustus, 'we're asleep, both of us, and a-dreaming asthings grow while we look at them. '

'But we're not dreaming, ' Edward objected. 'You let me pinch you andyou'll see. '

'No fun in that, ' said Gustus. 'Tell you what--it's thespy-glass--that's what it is. Ever see any conjuring? I see a chap atthe Mile End Empire what made things turn into things like winking. It'sthe spy-glass, that's what it is. '

'It can't be, ' said the little boy who lived in a villa. 

'But it _is_, ' said the little boy who lived in a slum. 'Teacher saysthere ain't no bounds to the wonders of science. Blest if this ain't oneof 'em. '

'Let me look, ' said Edward. 

'All right; only you mark me. Whatever you sets eyes on'll grow andgrow--like the flower-tree the conjurer had under the wipe. Don't youlook at _me_, that's all. Hold on; I'll put something up for you to lookat--a mark like--something as doesn't matter. '

He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a boot-lace. 

'I hold this up, ' he said, 'and you look. '

Next moment he had dropped the boot-lace, which, swollen as it was withthe magic of the glass, lay like a snake on the stone at his feet. 

So the glass _was_ a magic glass, as, of course, you know already. 

'My!' said Gustus, 'wouldn't I like to look at my victuals through thatthere!'

 * * * * *

Thus we find Edward, of the villa--and through him Gustus, of theslum--in possession of a unique instrument of magic. What could they dowith it?

This was the question which they talked over every time they met, andthey met continually. Edward's aunt, who at home watched him as catswatch mice, rashly believed that at the seaside there was no mischieffor a boy to get into. And the gentleman who commanded the tented campbelieved in the ennobling effects of liberty. 

After the boot, neither had dared to look at anything through thetelescope--and so they looked _at_ it, and polished it on their sleevestill it shone again. 

Both were agreed that it would be a fine thing to get some money andlook at it, so that it would grow big. But Gustus never had anypocket-money, and Edward had had his confiscated to pay for a window hehad not intended to break. 

Gustus felt certain that some one would find out about the spy-glass andtake it away from them. His experience was that anything you happened tolike was always taken away. Edward knew that his aunt would want to takethe telescope away to 'take care of' for him. This had already happenedwith the carved chessmen that his father had sent him from India. 

'I been thinking, ' said Gustus, on the third day. 'When I'm a man I'ma-going to be a burglar. You has to use your headpiece in that trade, Itell you. So I don't think thinking's swipes, like some blokes do. And Ithink p'r'aps it don't turn everything big. An' if we could find outwhat it don't turn big we could see what we wanted to turn big or whatit didn't turn big, and then it wouldn't turn anything big except whatwe wanted it to. See?'

Edward did not see; and I don't suppose you do, either. 

So Gustus went on to explain that teacher had told him there were somesubstances impervious to light, and some to cold, and so on and soforth, and that what they wanted was a substance that should beimpervious to the magic effects of the spy-glass. 

'So if we get a tanner and set it on a plate and squint at it it'll getbigger--but so'll the plate. And we don't want to litter the place upwith plates the bigness of cartwheels. But if the plate didn't get bigwe could look at the tanner till it covered the plate, and then go onlooking and looking and looking and see nothing but the tanner till itwas as big as a circus. See?'

This time Edward did see. But they got no further, because it was timeto go to the circus. There was a circus at Dymchurch just then, and thatwas what made Gustus think of the sixpence growing to that size. 

It was a very nice circus, and all the boys from the camp went toit--also Edward, who managed to scramble over and wriggle under benchestill he was sitting near his friend. 

[Illustration: Far above him and every one else towered the elephant. ]

It was the size of the elephant that did it. Edward had not seen anelephant before, and when he saw it, instead of saying, 'What a size heis!' as everybody else did, he said to himself, 'What a size I couldmake him!' and pulled out the spy-glass, and by a miracle of good luckor bad got it levelled at the elephant as it went by. He turned theglass slowly--as it went out--and the elephant only just got out intime. Another moment and it would have been too big to get through thedoor. The audience cheered madly. They thought it was a clever trick;and so it would have been, very clever. 

'You silly cuckoo, ' said Gustus, bitterly, 'now you've turned thatgreat thing loose on the country, and how's his keeper to manage him?'

'I could make the keeper big, too. '

'Then if I was you I should just bunk out and do it. '

Edward obeyed, slipped under the canvas of the circus tent, and foundhimself on the yellow, trampled grass of the field among guy-ropes, orange-peel, banana-skins, and dirty paper. Far above him and every oneelse towered the elephant--it was now as big as the church. 

Edward pointed the glass at the man who was patting the elephant'sfoot--that was as far up as he could reach--and telling it to 'Come downwith you!' He was very much frightened. He did not know whether youcould be put in prison for making an elephant's keeper about forty timeshis proper size. But he felt that something must be done to control thegigantic mountain of black-lead-coloured living flesh. So he looked atthe keeper through the spy-glass, and the keeper remained his normalsize!

In the shock of this failure he dropped the spy-glass, picked it up, andtried once more to fix the keeper. Instead he only got a circle ofblack-lead-coloured elephant; and while he was trying to find thekeeper, and finding nothing but more and more of the elephant, a shoutstartled him and he dropped the glass once more. He was a very clumsylittle boy, was Edward. 

'Well, ' said one of the men, 'what a turn it give me! I thought Jumbo'dgrown as big as a railway station, s'welp me if I didn't. '

'Now that's rum, ' said another, 'so did I. '

'And he _ain't_, ' said a third; 'seems to me he's a bit below his usualfigure. Got a bit thin or somethink, ain't he?'

Edward slipped back into the tent unobserved. 

'It's all right, ' he whispered to his friend, 'he's gone back to hisproper size, and the man didn't change at all. '

'Ho!' Gustus said slowly--'Ho! All right. Conjuring's a rum thing. Youdon't never know where you are!'

'Don't you think you might as well be a conjurer as a burglar?'suggested Edward, who had had his friend's criminal future ratherpainfully on his mind for the last hour. 

'_You_ might, ' said Gustus, 'not me. My people ain't dooks to set me upon any such a swell lay as conjuring. Now I'm going to think, I am. Youhold your jaw and look at the 'andsome Dona a-doin' of 'er gricefulbarebacked hact. '

That evening after tea Edward went, as he had been told to do, to theplace on the shore where the big stones had taught him the magic of thespy-glass. 

Gustus was already at the tryst. 

'See here, ' he said, 'I'm a-goin' to do something brave and fearless, Iam, like Lord Nelson and the boy on the fire-ship. You out with thatspy-glass, an' I'll let you look at _me_. Then we'll know where we are. '

'But s'pose you turn into a giant?'

'Don't care. 'Sides, I shan't. T'other bloke didn't. '

'P'r'aps, ' said Edward, cautiously, 'it only works by the seashore. '

'Ah, ' said Gustus, reproachfully, 'you've been a-trying to think, that'swhat you've been a-doing. What about the elephant, my emernentscientister? Now, then!'

Very much afraid, Edward pulled out the glass and looked. 

And nothing happened. 

'That's number one, ' said Gustus, 'now, number two. '

He snatched the telescope from Edward's hand, and turned it round andlooked through the other end at the great stones. Edward, standing by, saw them get smaller and smaller--turn to pebbles, to beach, to sand. When Gustus turned the glass to the giant grass and flowers on thesea-wall, they also drew back into themselves, got smaller and smaller, and presently were as they had been before ever Edward picked up themagic spy-glass. 

'Now we know all about it--I _don't_ think, ' said Gustus. 'To-morrowwe'll have a look at that there model engine of yours that you sayworks. '

[Illustration: It became a quite efficient motor. ]

They did. They had a look at it through the spy-glass, and it became aquite efficient motor; of rather an odd pattern it is true, and verybumpy, but capable of quite a decent speed. They went up to the hills init, and so odd was its design that no one who saw it ever forgot it. People talk about that rummy motor at Bonnington and Aldington to thisday. They stopped often, to use the spy-glass on various objects. Trees, for instance, could be made to grow surprisingly, and there were patchesof giant wheat found that year near Ashford that were neversatisfactorily accounted for. Blackberries, too, could be enlarged to amost wonderful and delicious fruit. And the sudden growth of a fugitivetoffee-drop found in Edward's pocket and placed on the hand was a happysurprise. When you scraped the pocket dirt off the outside you had apound of delicious toffee. Not so happy was the incident of the earwig, which crawled into view when Edward was enlarging a wild strawberry, andhad grown the size of a rat before the slow but horrified Edward gainedcourage to shake it off. 

It was a beautiful drive. As they came home they met a woman driving aweak-looking little cow. It went by on one side of the engine and thewoman went by on the other. When they were restored to each other thecow was nearly the size of a cart-horse, and the woman did not recogniseit. She ran back along the road after her cow, which must, she said, have taken fright at the beastly motor. She scolded violently as shewent. So the boys had to make the cow small again, when she wasn'tlooking. 

'This is all very well, ' said Gustus, 'but we've got our fortune tomake, I don't think. We've got to get hold of a tanner--or a bob wouldbe better. '

But this was not possible, because that broken window wasn't paid for, and Gustus never had any money. 

'We ought to be the benefactors of the human race, ' said Edward; 'makeall the good things more and all the bad things less. '

And _that_ was all very well--but the cow hadn't been a great success, as Gustus reminded him. 

'I see I shall have to do some of my thinking, ' he added. 

They stopped in a quiet road close by Dymchurch; the engine was madesmall again, and Edward went home with it under his arm. 

It was the next day that they found the shilling on the road. They couldhardly believe their good luck. They went out on to the shore with it, put it on Edward's hand while Gustus looked at it with the glass, andthe shilling began to grow. 

'It's as big as a saucer, ' said Edward, 'and it's heavy. I'll rest it onthese stones. It's as big as a plate; it's as big as a tea-tray; it's asbig as a cart-wheel. '

And it was. 

'Now, ' said Gustus, 'we'll go and borrow a cart to take it away. Comeon. '

But Edward could not come on. His hand was in the hollow between the twostones, and above lay tons of silver. He could not move, and the stonescouldn't move. There was nothing for it but to look at the great roundlump of silver through the wrong end of the spy-glass till it got smallenough for Edward to lift it. And then, unfortunately, Gustus looked alittle too long, and the shilling, having gone back to its own size, went a little further--and it went to sixpenny size, and then went outaltogether. 

So nobody got anything by that. 

And now came the time when, as was to be expected, Edward dropped thetelescope in his aunt's presence. She said, 'What's that?' picked it upwith quite unfair quickness, and looked through it, and through the openwindow at a fishing-boat, which instantly swelled to the size of aman-of-war. 

'My goodness! what a strong glass!' said the aunt. 

'Isn't it?' said Edward, gently taking it from her. He looked at theship through the glass's other end till she got to her proper size againand then smaller. He just stopped in time to prevent its disappearingaltogether. 

'I'll take care of it for you, ' said the aunt. And for the first time intheir lives Edward said 'No' to his aunt. 

It was a terrible moment. 

Edward, quite frenzied by his own courage, turned the glass on oneobject after another--the furniture grew as he looked, and when helowered the glass the aunt was pinned fast between a monster table-legand a great chiffonier. 

'There!' said Edward. 'And I shan't let you out till you say you won'ttake it to take care of either. '

'Oh, have it your own way, ' said the aunt, faintly, and closed her eyes. When she opened them the furniture was its right size and Edward wasgone. He had twinges of conscience, but the aunt never mentioned thesubject again. I have reason to suppose that _she_ supposed that she hadhad a fit of an unusual and alarming nature. 

Next day the boys in the camp were to go back to their slums. Edward andGustus parted on the seashore and Edward cried. He had never met a boywhom he liked as he liked Gustus. And Gustus himself was almost melted. 

'I will say for you you're more like a man and less like a snivellingwhite rabbit now than what you was when I met you. Well, we ain't donenothing to speak of with that there conjuring trick of yours, but we've'ad a right good time. So long. See you 'gain some day. '

Edward hesitated, spluttered, and still weeping flung his arms roundGustus. 

''Ere, none o' that, ' said Gustus, sternly. 'If you ain't man enough toknow better, I am. Shake 'ands like a Briton; right about face--and partgame. '

He suited the action to the word. 

Edward went back to his aunt snivelling, defenceless but happy. He hadnever had a friend except Gustus, and now he had given Gustus thegreatest treasure that he possessed. 

For Edward was not such a white rabbit as he seemed. And in that lastembrace he had managed to slip the little telescope into the pocket ofthe reefer coat which Gustus wore, ready for his journey. 

It was the greatest treasure that Edward had, but it was also thegreatest responsibility, so that while he felt the joy of self-sacrificehe also felt the rapture of relief. Life is full of such mixed moments. 

And the holidays ended and Edward went back to his villa. Be sure he hadgiven Gustus his home address, and begged him to write, but Gustus neverdid. 

Presently Edward's father came home from India, and they left his auntto her villa and went to live at a jolly little house on a sloping hillat Chiselhurst, which was Edward's father's very own. They were notrich, and Edward could not go to a very good school, and though therewas enough to eat and wear, what there was was very plain. And Edward'sfather had been wounded, and somehow had not got a pension. 

Now one night in the next summer Edward woke up in his bed with thefeeling that there was some one in the room. And there was. A darkfigure was squeezing itself through the window. Edward was far toofrightened to scream. He simply lay and listened to his heart. It waslike listening to a cheap American clock. The next moment a lanternflashed in his eyes and a masked face bent over him. 

'Where does your father keep his money?' said a muffled voice. 

'In the b-b-b-b-bank, ' replied the wretched Edward, truthfully. 

'I mean what he's got in the house. '

'In his trousers pocket, ' said Edward, 'only he puts it in thedressing-table drawer at night. '

'You must go and get it, ' said the burglar, for such he plainly was. 

'Must I?' said Edward, wondering how he could get out of betraying hisfather's confidence and being branded as a criminal. 

'Yes, ' said the burglar in an awful voice, 'get up and go. '

'_No_, ' said Edward, and he was as much surprised at his courage as youare. 

'Bravo!' said the burglar, flinging off his mask. 'I see you _aren't_such a white rabbit as what I thought you. '

'It's Gustus, ' said Edward. 'Oh, Gustus, I'm so glad! Oh, Gustus, I'm sosorry! I always hoped you wouldn't be a burglar. And now you are. '

'I am so, ' said Gustus, with pride, 'but, ' he added sadly, 'this is myfirst burglary. '

'Couldn't it be the last?' suggested Edward. 

'That, ' replied Gustus, 'depends on you. '

'I'll do anything, ' said Edward, 'anything. '

'You see, ' said Gustus, sitting down on the edge of the bed in aconfidential attitude, with the dark lantern in one hand and the mask inthe other, 'when you're as hard up as we are, there's not much of aliving to be made honest. I'm sure I wonder we don't all of us turnburglars, so I do. And that glass of yours--you little beggar--you didme proper--sticking of that thing in my pocket like what you did. Well, it kept us alive last winter, that's a cert. I used to look at thevictuals with it, like what I said I would. A farden's worth o'pease-pudden was a dinner for three when that glass was about, and apenn'orth o' scraps turned into a big beef-steak almost. They used towonder how I got so much for the money. But I'm always afraid o' beingfound out--or of losing the blessed spy-glass--or of some one pinchingit. So we got to do what I always said--make some use of it. And if I goalong and nick your father's dibs we'll make our fortunes right away. '

'No, ' said Edward, 'but I'll ask father. '

'Rot. ' Gustus was crisp and contemptuous. 'He'd think you was off yourchump, and he'd get me lagged. '

'It would be stealing, ' said Edward. 

'Not when you'll pay it back. '

'Yes, it would, ' said Edward. 'Oh, don't ask me--I can't. '

'Then I shall, ' said Gustus. 'Where's his room. '

'Oh, don't!' said Edward. 'I've got a half-sovereign of my own. I'llgive you that. '

'Lawk!' said Gustus. 'Why the blue monkeys couldn't you say so? Comeon. '

He pulled Edward out of bed by the leg, hurried his clothes on anyhow, and half-dragged, half-coaxed him through the window and down by the ivyand the chicken-house roof. 

They stood face to face in the sloping garden and Edward's teethchattered. Gustus caught him by his hand, and led him away. 

At the other end of the shrubbery, where the rockery was, Gustus stoopedand dragged out a big clinker--then another, and another. There was ahole like a big rabbit-hole. If Edward had really been a white rabbit itwould just have fitted him. 

'I'll go first, ' said Gustus, and went, head-foremost. 'Come on, ' hesaid, hollowly, from inside. And Edward, too, went. It was dreadfulcrawling into that damp hole in the dark. As his head got through thehole he saw that it led to a cave, and below him stood a dark figure. The lantern was on the ground. 

'Come on, ' said Gustus, 'I'll catch you if you fall. '

With a rush and a scramble Edward got in. 

'It's caves, ' said Gustus. 'A chap I know that goes about the countrybottoming cane-chairs, 'e told me about it. And I nosed about and foundhe lived here. So then I thought what a go. So now we'll put yourhalf-shiner down and look at it, and we'll have a gold-mine, and you canpretend to find it. '

'Halves!' said Edward, briefly and firmly. 

'You're a man, ' said Gustus. 'Now, then!' He led the way through a mazeof chalk caves till they came to a convenient spot, which he had marked. And now Edward emptied his pockets on the sand--he had brought all thecontents of his money-box, and there was more silver than gold, and morecopper than either, and more odd rubbish than there was anything else. You know what a boy's pockets are like. Stones and putty, andslate-pencils and marbles--I urge in excuse that Edward was a verylittle boy--a bit of plasticine, one or two bits of wood. 

'No time to sort 'em, ' said Gustus, and, putting the lantern in asuitable position, he got out the glass and began to look through it atthe tumbled heap. 

And the heap began to grow. It grew out sideways till it touched thewalls of the recess, and outwards till it touched the top of the recess, and then it slowly worked out into the big cave and came nearer andnearer to the boys. Everything grew--stones, putty, money, wood, plasticine. 

Edward patted the growing mass as though it were alive and he loved it, and Gustus said:

'Here's clothes, and beef, and bread, and tea, and coffee--andbaccy--and a good school, and me a engineer. I see it all a-growing anda-growing. '

'Hi--stop!' said Edward suddenly. 

Gustus dropped the telescope. It rolled away into the darkness. 

'Now you've done it, ' said Edward. 

'What?' said Gustus. 

'My hand, ' said Edward, 'it's fast between the rock and the gold andthings. Find the glass and make it go smaller so that I can get my handout. '

But Gustus could not find the glass. And, what is more, no one ever hasfound it to this day. 

'It's no good, ' said Gustus, at last. 'I'll go and find your father. They must come and dig you out of this precious Tom Tiddler's ground. '

'And they'll lag you if they see you. You said they would, ' said Edward, not at all sure what lagging was, but sure that it was somethingdreadful. 'Write a letter and put it in his letter-box. They'll find itin the morning. '

'And leave you pinned by the hand all night? Likely--I _don't_ think, 'said Gustus. 

'I'd rather, ' said Edward, bravely, but his voice was weak. 'I couldn'tbear you to be lagged, Gustus. I do love you so. '

'None of that, ' said Gustus, sternly. 'I'll leave you the lamp; I canfind my way with matches. Keep up your pecker, and never say die. '

'I won't, ' said Edward, bravely. 'Oh, Gustus!'

 * * * * *

That was how it happened that Edward's father was roused from slumbersby violent shakings from an unknown hand, while an unknown voiceuttered these surprising words:--

'Edward is in the gold and silver and copper mine that we've found underyour garden. Come and get him out. '

When Edward's father was at last persuaded that Gustus was not a sillydream--and this took some time--he got up. 

He did not believe a word that Gustus said, even when Gustus added'S'welp me!' which he did several times. 

But Edward's bed was empty--his clothes gone. 

Edward's father got the gardener from next door--with, at the suggestionof Gustus, a pick--the hole in the rockery was enlarged, and they allgot in. 

And when they got to the place where Edward was, there, sure enough, wasEdward, pinned by the hand between a piece of wood and a piece of rock. Neither the father nor the gardener noticed any metal. Edward hadfainted. 

They got him out; a couple of strokes with the pick released his hand, but it was bruised and bleeding. 

They all turned to go, but they had not gone twenty yards before therewas a crash and a loud report like thunder, and a slow rumbling, rattling noise very dreadful to hear. 

'Get out of this quick, sir, ' said the gardener; 'the roof's fell in;this part of the caves ain't safe. '

Edward was very feverish and ill for several days, during which he toldhis father the whole story--of which his father did not believe a word. But he was kind to Gustus, because Gustus was evidently fond of Edward. 

When Edward was well enough to walk in the garden his father and hefound that a good deal of the shrubbery had sunk, so that the treeslooked as though they were growing in a pit. 

It spoiled the look of the garden, and Edward's father decided to movethe trees to the other side. 

When this was done the first tree uprooted showed a dark hollow belowit. The man is not born who will not examine and explore a dark hollowin his own grounds. So Edward's father explored. 

This is the true story of the discovery of that extraordinary vein ofsilver, copper, and gold which has excited so much interest inscientific and mining circles. Learned papers have been written aboutit, learned professors have been rude to each other about it, but no oneknows how it came there except Gustus and Edward and you and me. Edward's father is quite as ignorant as any one else, but he is muchricher than most of them; and, at any rate, he knows that it was Gustuswho first told him of the gold-mine, and who risked beinglagged--arrested by the police, that is--rather than let Edward waittill morning with his hand fast between wood and rock. 

So Edward and Gustus have been to a good school, and now they are atWinchester, and presently they will be at Oxford. And when Gustus istwenty-one he will have half the money that came from the gold-mine. Andthen he and Edward mean to start a school of their own. And the boys whoare to go to it are to be the sort of boys who go to the summer camp ofthe Grand Redoubt near the sea--the kind of boy that Gustus was. 

So the spy-glass will do some good after all, though it _was_ sounmanageable to begin with. 

Perhaps it may even be found again. But I rather hope it won't. Itmight, really, have done much more mischief than it did--and if any onefound it, it might do more yet. 

There is no moral to this story, except.... But no--there is no moral. 

[Illustration: Quentin de Ward. ]

III

ACCIDENTAL MAGIC; OR DON'T TELL ALL YOU KNOW

Quentin de Ward was rather a nice little boy, but he had never been withother little boys, and that made him in some ways a little differentfrom other little boys. His father was in India, and he and his motherlived in a little house in the New Forest. The house--it was a cottagereally, but even a cottage is a house, isn't it?--was very pretty andthatched and had a porch covered with honeysuckle and ivy and whiteroses, and straight red hollyhocks were trained to stand up in a rowagainst the south wall of it. The two lived quite alone, and as they hadno one else to talk to they talked to each other a good deal. Mrs. DeWard read a great many books, and she used to tell Quentin about themafterwards. They were usually books about out of the way things, forMrs. De Ward was interested in all the things that people are not quitesure about--the things that are hidden and secret, wonderful andmysterious--the things people make discoveries about. So that when thetwo were having their tea on the little brick terrace in front of thehollyhocks, with the white cloth flapping in the breeze, and the waspshovering round the jam-pot, it was no uncommon thing for Quentin to saythickly through his bread and jam:--

'I say, mother, tell me some more about Atlantis. ' Or, 'Mother, tell mesome more about ancient Egypt and the little toy-boats they made fortheir little boys. ' Or, 'Mother, tell me about the people who think LordBacon wrote Shakespeare. '

And his mother always told him as much as she thought he couldunderstand, and he always understood quite half of what she told him. 

They always talked the things out thoroughly, and thus he learned to befond of arguing, and to enjoy using his brains, just as you enjoy usingyour muscles in the football field or the gymnasium. 

Also he came to know quite a lot of odd, out of the way things, and tohave opinions of his own concerning the lost Kingdom of Atlantis, andthe Man with the Iron Mask, the building of Stonehenge, the Pre-dynasticEgyptians, cuneiform writings and Assyrian sculptures, the Mexicanpyramids and the shipping activities of Tyre and Sidon. 

Quentin did no regular lessons, such as most boys have, but he read allsorts of books and made notes from them, in a large and stragglinghandwriting. 

You will already have supposed that Quentin was a prig. But he wasn't, and you would have owned this if you had seen him scampering through thegreenwood on his quiet New Forest pony, or setting snares for therabbits that _would_ get into the garden and eat the precious lettucesand parsley. Also he fished in the little streams that run through thatlovely land, and shot with a bow and arrows. And he was a very goodshot too. 

Besides this he collected stamps and birds' eggs and picture post-cards, and kept guinea-pigs and bantams, and climbed trees and tore his clothesin twenty different ways. And once he fought the grocer's boy and gotlicked and didn't cry, and made friends with the grocer's boyafterwards, and got him to show him all he knew about fighting, so yousee he was really not a mug. He was ten years old and he had enjoyedevery moment of his ten years, even the sleeping ones, because he alwaysdreamed jolly dreams, though he could not always remember what theywere. 

I tell you all this so that you may understand why he said what he didwhen his mother broke the news to him. 

He was sitting by the stream that ran along the end of the garden, making bricks of the clay that the stream's banks were made of. He driedthem in the sun, and then baked them under the kitchen stove. (It isquite a good way to make bricks--you might try it sometimes. ) His mothercame out, looking just as usual, in her pink cotton gown and her pinksunbonnet; and she had a letter in her hand. 

'Hullo, boy of my heart, ' she said, 'very busy?'

'Yes, ' said Quentin importantly, not looking up, and going on with hiswork. 'I'm making stones to build Stonehenge with. You'll show me how tobuild it, won't you, mother. '

'Yes, dear, ' she said absently. 'Yes, if I can. '

'Of course you can, ' he said, 'you can do everything. '

She sat down on a tuft of grass near him. 

'Quentin dear, ' she said, and something in her voice made him look upsuddenly. 

'Oh, mother, what is it?' he asked. 

'Daddy's been wounded, ' she said; 'he's all right now, dear--don't befrightened. Only I've got to go out to him. I shall meet him in Egypt. And you must go to school in Salisbury, a very nice school, dear, till Icome back. '

'Can't I come too?' he asked. 

And when he understood that he could not he went on with the bricks insilence, with his mouth shut very tight. 

After a moment he said, 'Salisbury? Then I shall see Stonehenge?'

'Yes, ' said his mother, pleased that he took the news so calmly, 'youwill be sure to see Stonehenge some time. '

He stood still, looking down at the little mould of clay in his hand--sostill that his mother got up and came close to him. 

'Quentin, ' she said, 'darling, what is it?'

He leaned his head against her. 

'I won't make a fuss, ' he said, 'but you can't begin to be brave thevery first minute. Or, if you do, you can't go on being. '

And with that he began to cry, though he had not cried after the affairof the grocer's boy. 

 * * * * *

The thought of school was not so terrible to Quentin as Mrs. De Ward hadthought it would be. In fact, he rather liked it, with half his mind;but the other half didn't like it, because it meant parting from hismother who, so far, had been his only friend. But it was exciting to betaken to Southampton, and have all sorts of new clothes bought for you, and a school trunk, and a little polished box that locked up, to keepyour money in and your gold sleeve links, and your watch and chain whenyou were not wearing them. 

Also the journey to Salisbury was made in a motor, which was veryexciting of course, and rather took Quentin's mind off the parting withhis mother, as she meant it should. And there was a very grand lunch atThe White Hart Hotel at Salisbury, and then, very suddenly indeed, itwas good-bye, good-bye, and the motor snorted, and hooted, and throbbed, and rushed away, and mother was gone, and Quentin was at school. 

I believe it was quite a nice school. It was in a very nice house with alarge quiet garden, and there were only about twenty boys. And themasters were kind, and the boys no worse than other boys of their age. But Quentin hated it from the very beginning. For when his mother hadgone the Headmaster said: 'School will be out in half-an-hour; take abook, de Ward, ' and gave him _Little Eric and his Friends_, a mere babybook. It was too silly. He could not read it. He saw on a shelf nearhim, _Smith's Antiquities_, a very old friend of his, so he said: 'I'drather have this, please. '

'You should say "sir" when you speak to a master, ' the Head said to him. 'Take the book by all means. ' To himself the Head said, 'I wish you joyof it, you little prig. '

When school was over, one of the boys was told to show Quentin his bedand his locker. The matron had already unpacked his box and his pile ofbooks was waiting for him to carry it over. 

'Golly, what a lot of books, ' said Smithson minor. 'What's this?_Atlantis_? Is it a jolly story?'

'It isn't a story, ' said Quentin. And just then the classical mastercame by. 'What's that about _Atlantis_?' he said. 

'It's a book the new chap's got, ' said Smithson. 

The classical master glanced at the book. 

'And how much do you understand of this?' he asked, fluttering theleaves. 

'Nearly all, I think, ' said Quentin. 

'You should say "sir" when you speak to a master, ' said the classicalone; and to himself he added, 'little prig. ' Then he said to Quentin: 'Iam afraid you will find yourself rather out of your element amongordinary boys. '

'I don't think so, ' said Quentin calmly, adding as an afterthought'sir. '

'I'm glad you're so confident, ' said the classical master and went. 

'My word, ' said Smithson minor in a rather awed voice, 'you did answerhim back. '

'Of course I did, ' said Quentin. 'Don't _you_ answer when you're spokento?'

Smithson minor informed the interested school that the new chap was aprig, but he had a cool cheek, and that some sport might be expected. 

After supper the boys had half an hour's recreation. Quentin, who wastired, picked up a book which a big boy had just put down. It was the_Midsummer Night's Dream_. 

'Hi, you kid, ' said the big boy, 'don't pretend you read Shakespeare forfun. That's simple swank, you know. '

'I don't know what swank is, ' said Quentin, 'but I like the _Midsummer_whoever wrote it. '

'Whoever _what_?'

'Well, ' said Quentin, 'there's a good deal to be said for its beingBacon who wrote the plays. '

Of course that settled it. From that moment, he was called not de Ward, which was strange enough, but Bacon. He rather liked that. But the nextday it was Pork, and the day after Pig, and that was unbearable. 

He was at the bottom of his class, for he knew no Latin as it is taughtin schools, only odd words that English words come from, and some Latinwords that are used in science. And I cannot pretend that his arithmeticwas anything but contemptible. 

The book called _Atlantis_ had been looked at by most of the school, andSmithson major, not nearly such an agreeable boy as his brother, hit ona new nickname. 

'Atlantic Pork's a good name for a swanker, ' he said. 'You know therotten meat they have in Chicago. '

This was in the playground before dinner. Quentin, who had to keep hismouth shut very tight these days, because, of course, a boy of tencannot cry before other chaps, shut the book he was reading and lookedup. 

'I won't be called that, ' he said quietly. 

'Who said you wouldn't?' said Smithson major, who, after all, was onlytwelve. 'I say you will. '

'If you call me that I shall hit you, ' said Quentin, 'as hard as I can. '

A roar of laughter went up, and cries of, 'Poor oldSmithson'--'Apologise, Smithie, and leave the omnibus. '

'And what should I be doing while you were hitting me?' asked Smithsoncontemptuously. 

[Illustration: It landed on the point of the chin of Smithson major. ]

'I don't know and I don't care, ' said Quentin. 

Smithson looked round. No master was in sight. It seemed an excellentopportunity to teach young de Ward his place. 

'Atlantic pig-swine, ' he said very deliberately. And Quentin sprang athim, and instantly it was a fight. 

Now Quentin had only once fought--really fought--before. Then it wasthe grocer's boy and he had been beaten. But he had learned somethingsince. And the chief conclusion he now drew from his memories of thatfight was that he had not hit half hard enough, an opinion almostuniversal among those who have fought and not won. 

As the fist of Smithson major described a half circle and hurt his earvery much, Quentin suddenly screwed himself up and hit out with hisright hand, straight, and with his whole weight behind the blow as thegrocer's boy had shown him. All his grief for his wounded father, hissorrow at the parting from his mother, all his hatred of his school, andhis contempt for his schoolfellows went into that blow. It landed on thepoint of the chin of Smithson major who fell together like a heap ofrags. 

'Oh, ' said Quentin, gazing with interest at his hand--it hurt a gooddeal but he looked at it with respect--'I'm afraid I've hurt him. '

He had forgotten for a moment that he was in an enemies' country, andso, apparently, had his enemies. 

'Well done, Piggy! Bravo, young 'un! Well hit, by Jove!'

Friendly hands thumped him on the back. Smithson major was no popularhero. 

Quentin felt--as his schoolfellows would have put it--bucked. It is onething to be called Pig in enmity and derision. Another to be calledPiggy--an affectionate diminutive, after all--to the chorus of admiringsmacks. 

'Get up, Smithie, ' cried the ring. 'Want any more?'

It appeared that Smithie did not want any more. He lay, not moving atall, and very white. 

'I say, ' the crowd's temper veered, 'you've killed him, I expect. Iwouldn't like to be you, Bacon. '

Pig, you notice, for aggravation--Piggy in enthusiastic applause. In themoment of possible tragedy the more formal Bacon. 

'I haven't, ' said Quentin, very white himself, 'but if I have hebegan--by calling names. '

Smithson moved and grunted. A sigh of relief swept the ring as a breezesweeps a cornfield. 

'He's all right. A fair knock out. Piggy's got the use of 'em. DoSmithie good. ' The voices hushed suddenly. A master was on thescene--the classical master. 

'Fighting?' he said. 'The new boy? Who began it?'

'I did, ' said Quentin, 'but he began with calling names. '

'Sneak!' murmured the entire school, and Quentin, who had seen no reasonfor not speaking the truth, perceived that one should not tell all oneknows, and that once more he stood alone in the world. 

'You will go to your room, de Ward, ' said the classical master, bendingover Smithson, who having been 'knocked silly' still remained in thatcondition, 'and the headmaster will consider your case to-morrow. Youwill probably be expelled. '

Quentin went to his room and thought over his position. It seemed to bedesperate. How was he to know that the classical master was even thensaying to the Head:

'He's got something in him, prig or no prig, sir. '

'You were quite right to send him to his room, ' said the Head, 'discipline must be maintained, as Mr. Ducket says. But it will doSmithson major a world of good. A boy who reads Shakespeare for fun, andhas views about Atlantis, and can knock out a bully as well.... He'll bea power in the school. But we mustn't let him know it. '

That was rather a pity. Because Quentin, furious at the injustice of thewhole thing--Smithson, the aggressor, consoled with; himself punished;expulsion threatened--was maturing plans. 

'If mother had known what it was like, ' he said to himself, 'she wouldnever have left me here. I've got the two pounds she gave me. I shallgo to the White Hart at Salisbury ... No, they'd find me then. I'll goto Lyndhurst; and write to her. It's better to run away than to beexpelled. Quentin Durward would never have waited to be expelled fromanywhere. '

Of course Quentin Durward was my hero's hero. It could not be otherwisesince his own name was so like that of the Scottish guardsman. 

Now the school in Salisbury was a little school for little boys--boyswho were used to schools and took the rough with the smooth. But Quentinwas not used to schools, and he had taken the rough very much to heart. So much that he did not mean to take any more of it. 

His dinner was brought up on a tray--bread and water. He put the breadin his pocket. Then when he knew that every one was at dinner in thelong dining-room at the back of the house, he just walked very quietlydown the stairs, opened the side door and marched out, down the gardenpath and out at the tradesmen's gate. He knew better than to shut eithergate or door. 

He went quickly down the street, turned the first corner he came to soas to get out of sight of the school. He turned another corner, wentthrough an archway, and found himself in an inn-yard--very quiet indeed. Only a liver-coloured lurcher dog wagged a sleepy tail on the hotflag-stones. 

Quentin was just turning to go back through the arch, for there was noother way out of the yard, when he saw a big covered cart, whose horsewore a nose-bag and looked as if there was no hurry. The cart bore thename, 'Miles, Carrier, Lyndhurst. '

Quentin knew all about lifts. He had often begged them and got them. Nowthere was no one to ask. But he felt he could very well explain laterthat he had wanted a lift, much better than now, in fact, when he mightbe caught at any moment by some one from the school. 

He climbed up by the shaft. There were boxes and packages of all sortsin the cart, and at the back an empty crate with sacking over it. He gotinto the crate, pulled the sacking over himself, and settled down to eathis bread. 

Presently the carrier came out, and there was talk, slow, long-drawntalk. After a long while the cart shook to the carrier's heavy climbinto it, the harness rattled, the cart lurched, and the wheels were loudand bumpy over the cobble stones of the yard. 

Quentin felt safe. The glow of anger was still hot in him, and he wasglad to think how they would look for him all over the town, in vain. Helifted the sacking at one corner so that he could look out between thecanvas of the cart's back and side, and hoped to see the classicalmaster distractedly looking for him. But the streets were very sleepy. Every one in Salisbury was having dinner--or in the case of theaffluent, lunch. 

The black horse seemed as sleepy as the streets, and went very slowly. Also it stopped very often, and wherever there were parcels to leavethere was slow, long talkings to be exchanged. I think, perhaps, Quentindozed a good deal under his sacks. At any rate it was with a shock ofsurprise that he suddenly heard the carrier's voice saying, as the horsestopped with a jerk:

'There's a crate for you, Mrs. Baddock, returned empty, ' and knew thatthat crate was not empty, but full--full of boy. 

'I'll go and call Joe, ' said a voice--Mrs. Baddock's, Quentin supposed, and slow feet stumped away over stones. Mr. Miles leisurely untied thetail of the cart, ready to let the crate be taken out. 

Quentin spent a paralytic moment. What could he do?

And then, luckily or unluckily, a reckless motor tore past, and theblack horse plunged and Mr. Miles had to go to its head and 'talkpretty' to it for a minute. And in that minute Quentin lifted thesacking, and looked out. It was low sunset, and the street was deserted. He stepped out of the crate, dropped to the ground, and slipped behind astout and friendly water-butt that seemed to offer protective shelter. 

Joe came, and the crate was taken down. 

'You haven't seen nothing of that there runaway boy by chance?' said anew voice--Joe's no doubt. 

'What boy?' said Mr. Miles. 

'Run away from school, Salisbury, ' said Joe. 'Telegrams far and near, sothey be. Little varmint. '

'I ain't seen no boys, not more'n ordinary, ' said Mr. Miles. 'Thick asflies they be, here, there, and everywhere, drat 'em. Sixpence--Correct. So long, Joe. '

The cart rattled away. Joe and the crate blundered out of hearing, andQuentin looked cautiously round the water-butt. 

This was an adventure. But he was cooler now than he had been atstarting--his hot anger had died down. He would have been contented, hecould not help feeling, with a less adventurous adventure. 

But he was in for it now. He felt, as I suppose people feel when theyjump off cliffs with parachutes, that return was impossible. 

Hastily turning his school cap inside out--the only disguise he couldthink of, he emerged from the water-butt seclusion and into the street, trying to look as if there was no reason why he should not be there. Hedid not know the village. It was not Lyndhurst. And of course asking theway was not to be thought of. 

There was a piece of sacking lying on the road; it must have droppedfrom the carrier's cart. He picked it up and put it over his shoulders. 

'A deeper disguise, ' he said, and walked on. 

He walked steadily for a long, long way as it seemed, and the world gotdarker and darker. But he kept on. Surely he must presently come to somevillage, or some signpost. 

Anyhow, whatever happened, he could not go back. That was the onecertain thing. The broad stretches of country to right and left held noshapes of houses, no glimmer of warm candle-light; they were bare andbleak, only broken by circles of trees that stood out like black islandsin the misty grey of the twilight. 

'I shall have to sleep behind a hedge, ' he said bravely enough; butthere did not seem to be any hedges. And then, quite suddenly, he cameupon it. 

A scattered building, half transparent as it seemed, showing blackagainst the last faint pink and primrose of the sunset. He stopped, tooka few steps off the road on short, crisp turf that rose in a gentleslope. And at the end of a dozen paces he knew it. Stonehenge!Stonehenge he had always wanted so desperately to see. Well, he saw itnow, more or less. 

He stopped to think. He knew that Stonehenge stands all alone onSalisbury Plain. He was very tired. His mother had told him about a girlin a book who slept all night on the altar stone at Stonehenge. So itwas a thing that people did--to sleep there. He was not afraid, as youor I might have been--of that lonely desolate ruin of a temple of longago. He was used to the forest, and, compared with the forest, anybuilding is homelike. 

There was just enough light left amid the stones of the wonderful brokencircle to guide him to its centre. As he went his hand brushed a plant;he caught at it, and a little group of flowers came away in his hand. 

'St. John's wort, ' he said, 'that's the magic flower. ' And he rememberedthat it is only magic when you pluck it on Midsummer Eve. 

'And this _is_ Midsummer Eve, ' he told himself, and put it in hisbuttonhole. 

'I don't know where the altar stone is, ' he said, 'but that looks a cosylittle crack between those two big stones. '

He crept into it, and lay down on a flat stone that stretched betweenand under two fallen pillars. 

The night was soft and warm; it was Midsummer Eve. 

'Mother isn't going till the twenty-sixth, ' he told himself. 'I sha'n'tbother about hotels. I shall send her a telegram in the morning, and geta carriage at the nearest stables and go straight back to her. No, shewon't be angry when she hears all about it. I'll ask her to let me go tosea instead of to school. It's much more manly. Much more manly ... Muchmuch more, much. '

He was asleep. And the wild west wind that swept across the plain sparedthe little corner where he lay asleep, curled up in his sacking with theinside-out school cap, doubled twice, for pillow. 

He fell asleep on the smooth, solid, steady stone. 

He awoke on the stone in a world that rocked as sea-boats rock on achoppy sea. 

He went to sleep between fallen moveless pillars of a ruin older thanany world that history knows. 

He awoke in the shade of a purple awning through which strong sunlightfiltered, and purple curtains that flapped and strained in the wind; andthere was a smell, a sweet familiar smell, of tarred ropes and the sea. 

'I say, ' said Quentin to himself, 'here's a rum go. '

He had learned that expression in a school in Salisbury, a long time agoas it seemed. 

The stone on which he lay dipped and rose to a rhythm which he knew wellenough. He had felt it when he and his mother went in a little boat fromKeyhaven to Alum Bay in the Isle of Wight. There was no doubt in hismind. He was on a ship. But how, but why? Who could have carried him allthat way without waking him? Was it magic? Accidental magic? The St. John's wort perhaps? And the stone--it was not the same. It was new, clean cut, and, where the wind displaced a corner of the curtain, dazzlingly white in the sunlight. 

There was the pat pat of bare feet on the deck, a dull sort of shufflingas though people were arranging themselves. And then people outside theawning began to sing. It was a strange song, not at all like any musicyou or I have ever heard. It had no tune, no more tune than a drum has, or a trumpet, but it had a sort of wild rough glorious excitingsplendour about it, and gave you the sort of intense all-alive feelingthat drums and trumpets give. 

Quentin lifted a corner of the purple curtain and looked out. 

Instantly the song stopped, drowned in the deepest silence Quentin hadever imagined. It was only broken by the flip-flapping of the sheetsagainst the masts of the ship. For it was a ship, Quentin saw that asthe bulwark dipped to show him an unending waste of sea, broken bybigger waves than he had ever dreamed of. He saw also a crowd of men, dressed in white and blue and purple and gold. Their right arms wereraised towards the sun, half of whose face showed across the sea--butthey seemed to be, as my old nurse used to say, 'struck so, ' for theireyes were not fixed on the sun, but on Quentin. And not in anger, henoticed curiously, but with surprise and ... Could it be that they wereafraid of him?

[Illustration: 'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you by thesacred Tau!']

Quentin was shivering with the surprise and newness of it all. He hadread about magic, but he had not wholly believed in it, and yet, now, ifthis was not magic, what was it? You go to sleep on an old stone in aruin. You wake on the same stone, quite new, on a ship. Magic, magic, ifever there was magic in this wonderful, mysterious world!

The silence became awkward. Some one had to say something. 

'Good-morning, ' said Quentin, feeling that he ought perhaps to be theone. 

Instantly every one in sight fell on his face on the deck. 

Only one, a tall man with a black beard and a blue mantle, stood up andlooked Quentin in the eyes. 

'Who are you?' he said. 'Answer, I adjure you by the Sacred Tau!' Nowthis was very odd, and Quentin could never understand it, but when thisman spoke Quentin understood _him_ perfectly, and yet at the same timehe knew that the man was speaking a foreign language. So that histhought was not, 'Hullo, you speak English!' but 'Hullo, I canunderstand your language. '

'I am Quentin de Ward, ' he said. 

'A name from other stars! How came you here?' asked the blue-mantledman. 

'_I_ don't know, ' said Quentin. 

'He does not know. He did not sail with us. It is by magic that he ishere, ' said Blue Mantle. 'Rise, all, and greet the Chosen of theGods. '

They rose from the deck, and Quentin saw that they were all beardedmen, with bright, earnest eyes, dressed in strange dress of somethinglike jersey and tunic and heavy golden ornaments. 

'Hail! Chosen of the Gods, ' cried Blue Mantle, who seemed to be theleader. 

'Hail, Chosen of the Gods!' echoed the rest. 

'Thank you very much, I'm sure, ' said Quentin. 

'And what is this stone?' asked Blue Mantle, pointing to the stone onwhich Quentin sat. 

And Quentin, anxious to show off his knowledge, said:

'I'm not quite sure, but I _think_ it's the altar stone of Stonehenge. '

'It is proved, ' said Blue Mantle. 'Thou art the Chosen of the Gods. Isthere anything my Lord needs?' he added humbly. 

'I ... I'm rather hungry, ' said Quentin; 'it's a long time since dinner, you know. '

They brought him bread and bananas, and oranges. 

'Take, ' said Blue Mantle, 'of the fruits of the earth, and specially ofthis, which gives drink and meat and ointment to man, ' suddenlyoffering a large cocoa-nut. 

Quentin took, with appropriate 'Thank you's' and 'You're very kind's. '

'Nothing, ' said Blue Mantle, 'is too good for the Chosen of the Gods. All that we have is yours, to the very last day of your life you haveonly to command, and we obey. You will like to eat in seclusion. Andafterwards you will let us behold the whole person of the Chosen of theGods. '

Quentin retired into the purple tent, with the fruits and the cocoa-nut. As you know, a cocoa-nut is not handy to get at the inside of, at thebest of times, so Quentin set that aside, meaning to ask Blue Mantlelater on for a gimlet and a hammer. 

When he had had enough to eat he peeped out again. Blue Mantle was onthe watch and came quickly forward. 

'Now, ' said he, very crossly indeed, 'tell me how you got here. ThisChosen of the Gods business is all very well for the vulgar. But you andI know that there is no such thing as magic. '

'Speak for yourself, ' said Quentin. 'If I'm not here by magic I'm nothere at all. '

'Yes, you are, ' said Blue Mantle. 

'I know I am, ' said Quentin, 'but if I'm not here by magic what am Ihere by?'

'Stowawayishness, ' said Blue Mantle. 

'If you think that why don't you treat me as a stowaway?'

'Because of public opinion, ' said Blue Mantle, rubbing his nose in anangry sort of perplexedness. 

'Very well, ' said Quentin, who was feeling so surprised and bewilderedthat it was a real relief to him to bully somebody. 'Now look here. Icame here by magic, accidental magic. I belong to quite a differentworld from yours. But perhaps you are right about my being the Chosen ofthe Gods. And I sha'n't tell you anything about my world. But I commandyou, by the Sacred Tau' (he had been quick enough to catch and rememberthe word), 'to tell me who you are, and where you come from, and whereyou are going. '

Blue Mantle shrugged his shoulders. 'Oh, well, ' he said, 'if you invokethe sacred names of Power.... But I don't call it fair play. Especiallyas you know perfectly well, and just want to browbeat me into tellinglies. I shall not tell lies. I shall tell you the truth. '

'I hoped you would, ' said Quentin gently. 

'Well then, ' said Blue Mantle, 'I am a Priest of Poseidon, and I comefrom the great and immortal kingdom of Atlantis. '

'From the temple where the gold statue is, with the twelve sea-horses ingold?' Quentin asked eagerly. 

'Ah, I knew you knew all about it, ' said Blue Mantle, 'so I don't needto tell you that I am taking the sacred stone, on which you are sitting(profanely if you are a mere stowaway, and not the Chosen of the Gods)to complete the splendid structure of a temple built on a great plain inthe second of the islands which are our colonies in the North East. '

'Tell me all about Atlantis, ' said Quentin. And the priest, protestingthat Quentin knew as much about it as he did, told. 

And all the time the ship was ploughing through the waves, sometimessailing, sometimes rowed by hidden rowers with long oars. And Quentinwas served in all things as though he had been a king. If he hadinsisted that he was not the Chosen of the Gods everything might havebeen different. But he did not. And he was very anxious to show how muchhe knew about Atlantis. And sometimes he was wrong, the Priest said, butmuch more often he was right. 

'We are less than three days' journey now from the Eastern Isles, ' BlueMantle said one day, 'and I warn you that if you are a mere stowaway youhad better own it. Because if you persist in calling yourself the Chosenof the Gods you will be expected to act as such--to the very end. '

'I don't call myself anything, ' said Quentin, 'though I am not astowaway, anyhow, and I don't know how I came here--so of course it wasmagic. It's simply silly your being so cross. _I_ can't help being here. Let's be friends. '

'Well, ' said Blue Mantle, much less crossly, 'I never believed in magic, though I _am_ a priest, but if it is, it is. We may as well be friends, as you call it. It isn't for very long, anyway, ' he added mysteriously. 

[Illustration: The cart was drawn by an enormous creature, more like anelephant than anything else. ]

And then to show his friendliness he took Quentin all over the ship, andexplained it all to him. And Quentin enjoyed himself thoroughly, thoughevery now and then he had to pinch himself to make sure that he wasawake. And he was fed well all the time, and all the time made much of, so that when the ship reached land he was quite sorry. The ship anchoredby a stone quay, most solid and serviceable, and every one was verybusy. 

Quentin kept out of sight behind the purple curtains. The sailors andthe priests and the priests' attendants and everybody on the boat hadasked him so many questions, and been so curious about his clothes, thathe was not anxious to hear any more questions asked, or to have toinvent answers to them. 

And after a very great deal of talk--almost as much as Mr. Miles'scarrying had needed--the altar stone was lifted, Quentin, curtains, awning and all, and carried along a gangway to the shore, and there itwas put on a sort of cart, more like what people in Manchester call alurry than anything else I can think of. The wheels were made of solidcircles of wood bound round with copper. And the cart was drawn by--nothorses or donkeys or oxen or even dogs--but by an enormous creature morelike an elephant than anything else, only it had long hair rather likethe hair worn by goats. 

You, perhaps, would not have known what this vast creature was, butQuentin, who had all sorts of out-of-the-way information packed in hishead, knew at once that it was a mammoth. 

And by that he knew, too, that he had slipped back many thousands ofyears, because, of course, it is a very long time indeed since therewere any mammoths alive, and able to draw lurries. And the car and thepriest and the priest's retinue and the stone and Quentin and themammoth journeyed slowly away from the coast, passing through greatgreen forests and among strange gray mountains. 

Where were they journeying?

Quentin asked the same question you may be sure, and Blue Mantle toldhim--

'To Stonehenge. ' And Quentin understood him perfectly, thoughStonehenge was not the word Blue Mantle used, or anything like it. 

'The great temple is now complete, ' he said, 'all but the altar stone. It will be the most wonderful temple ever built in any of the coloniesof Atlantis. And it will be consecrated on the longest day of the year. '

'Midsummer Day, ' said Quentin thoughtlessly--and, as usual, anxious totell all he knew. 'I know. The sun strikes through the arch on to thealtar stone at sunrise. Hundreds of people go to see it: the ruins arequite crowded sometimes, I believe. '

'Ruins?' said the priest in a terrible voice. 'Crowded? Ruins?'

'I mean, ' said Quentin hastily, 'the sun will still shine the same wayeven when the temple is in ruins, won't it?'

'The temple, ' said the priest, 'is built to defy time. It will never bein ruins. '

'That's all _you_ know, ' said Quentin, not very politely. 

'It is not by any means all I know, ' said the priest. 'I do not tell allI know. Nor do you. '

'I used to, ' said Quentin, 'but I sha'n't any more. It only leads totrouble--I see that now. '

Now, though Quentin had been intensely interested in everything he hadseen in the ship and on the journey, you may be sure he had not lostsight of the need there was to get back out of this time of Atlantisinto his own time. He knew that he must have got into these Atlanteantimes by some very simple accidental magic, and he felt no doubt that heshould get back in the same way. He felt almost sure that thereverse-action, so to speak, of the magic would begin when the stone gotback to the place where it had lain for so many thousand years before hehappened to go to sleep on it, and to start--perhaps by the St. John'swort--the accidental magic. If only, when he got back there he couldthink of the compelling, the magic word!

And now the slow procession wound over the downs, and far away acrossthe plain, which was almost just the same then as it is now, Quentin sawwhat he knew must be Stonehenge. But it was no longer the grey pile ofruins that you have perhaps seen--or have, at any rate, seen picturesof. 

From afar one could see the gleam of yellow gold and red copper; theflutter of purple curtains, the glitter and dazzle of shimmering silver. 

As they drew near to the spot Quentin perceived that the great stones heremembered were overlaid with ornamental work, with vivid, bright-coloured paintings. The whole thing was a great circularbuilding, every stone in its place. At a mile or two distant lay a town. And in that town, with every possible luxury, served with everycircumstance of servile homage, Quentin ate and slept. 

I wish I had time to tell you what that town was like where he slept andate, but I have not. You can read for yourself, some day, what Atlantiswas like. Plato tells us a good deal, and the Colonies of Atlantis musthave had at least a reasonable second-rate copy of the cities of thatfair and lovely land. 

That night, for the first time since he had first gone to sleep on thealtar stone, Quentin slept apart from it. He lay on a wooden couchstrewn with soft bear-skins, and a woollen coverlet was laid over him. And he slept soundly. 

In the middle of the night, as it seemed, Blue Mantle woke him. 

'Come, ' he said, 'Chosen of the Gods--since you _will_ be that, and nostowaway--the hour draws nigh. '

The mammoth was waiting. Quentin and Blue Mantle rode on its back to theouter porch of the new temple of Stonehenge. Rows of priests andattendants, robed in white and blue and purple, formed a sort of avenueup which Blue Mantle led the Chosen of the Gods, who was Quentin. Theytook off his jacket and put a white dress on him, rather like anight-shirt without sleeves. And they put a thick wreath of London Prideon his head and another, larger and longer, round his neck. 

'If only the chaps at school could see me now!' he said to himselfproudly. 

And by this time it was gray dawn. 

'Lie down now, ' said Blue Mantle, 'lie down, O Beloved of the Gods, uponthe altar stone, for the last time. '

'I shall be able to go, then?' Quentin asked. This accidental magic was, he perceived, a tricky thing, and he wanted to be sure. 

'You will not be able to stay, ' said the priest. 'If going is what youdesire, the desire of the Chosen of the Gods is fully granted. '

The grass on the plain far and near rustled with the tread of many feet;the cold air of dawn thrilled to the awed murmured of many voices. 

Quentin lay down, with his pink wreaths and his white robe, and watchedthe quickening pinkiness of the East. And slowly the great circle of thetemple filled with white-robed folk, all carrying in their hands thefaint pinkiness of the flowers which we nowadays call London Pride. 

And all eyes were fixed on the arch through which, at sunrise onMidsummer Day, the sun's first beam should fall upon the white, new, clean altar stone. The stone is still there, after all these thousandsof years, and at sunrise on Midsummer Day the sun's first ray stillfalls on it. 

[Illustration: 'Silence, ' cried the priest. 'Chosen of the Immortals, close your eyes!']

The sky grew lighter and lighter, and at last the sun peered redly overthe down, and the first ray of the morning sunlight fell full on thealtar stone and on the face of Quentin. 

And, as it did so, a very tall, white-robed priest with a deer-skinapron and a curious winged head-dress stepped forward. He carried agreat bronze knife, and he waved it ten times in the shaft of sunlightthat shot through the arch and on to the altar stone. 

'Thus, ' he cried, 'thus do I bathe the sacred blade in the pure fountainof all light, all wisdom, all splendour. In the name of the ten kings, the ten virtues, the ten hopes, the ten fears I make my weapon clean!May this temple of our love and our desire endure for ever, so long asthe glory of our Lord the Sun is shed upon this earth. May the sacrificeI now humbly and proudly offer be acceptable to the gods by whom it hasbeen so miraculously provided. Chosen of the Gods! return to the godswho sent thee!'

A roar of voices rang through the temple. The bronze knife was raisedover Quentin. He could not believe that this, this horror, was the endof all these wonderful happenings. 

'No--no, ' he cried, 'it's not true. I'm not the Chosen of the Gods! I'monly a little boy that's got here by accidental magic!'

'Silence, ' cried the priest, 'Chosen of the Immortals, close your eyes!It will not hurt. This life is only a dream; the other life is the reallife. Be strong, be brave!'

Quentin was not brave. But he shut his eyes. He could not help it. Theglitter of the bronze knife in the sunlight was too strong for him. 

He could not believe that this could really have happened to him. Everyone had been so kind--so friendly to him. And it was all for this!

Suddenly a sharp touch at his side told him that for this, indeed, ithad all been. He felt the point of the knife. 

'Mother!' he cried. And opened his eyes again. 

He always felt quite sure afterwards that 'Mother' was the master-word, the spell of spells. For when he opened his eyes there was no priest, nowhite-robed worshippers, no splendour of colour and metal, no Chosen ofthe Gods, no knife--only a little boy with a piece of sacking over him, damp with the night dews, lying on a stone amid the grey ruins ofStonehenge, and, all about him, a crowd of tourists who had come to seethe sun's first shaft strike the age-old altar of Stonehenge onMidsummer Day in the morning. And instead of a knife point at his sidethere was only the ferrule of the umbrella of an elderly and retired teamerchant in a mackintosh and an Alpine hat, --a ferrule which had proddedthe sleeping boy so unexpectedly surprised on the very altar stone wherethe sun's ray now lingered. 

And then, in a moment, he knew that he had not uttered the spell invain, the word of compelling, the word of power: for his mother wasthere kneeling beside him. I am sorry to say that he cried as he clungto her. _We_ cannot all of us be brave, always. 

The tourists were very kind and interested, and the tea merchantinsisted on giving Quentin something out of a flask, which was so nastythat Quentin only pretended to drink, out of politeness. His mother hada carriage waiting, and they escaped to it while the tourists weresaying, 'How romantic!' and asking each other whatever in the world hadhappened. 

 * * * * *

'But how _did_ you come to be there, darling?' said his mother with warmhands comfortingly round him. 'I've been looking for you all night. Iwent to say good-bye to you yesterday--Oh, Quentin--and I found you'drun away. How _could_ you?'

'I'm sorry, ' said Quentin, 'if it worried you, I'm sorry. Very, very. Iwas going to telegraph to-day. '

'But where have you been? What have you been doing all night?' sheasked, caressing him. 

'Is it only one night?' said Quentin. 'I don't know exactly what'shappened. It was accidental magic, I think, mother. I'm glad I thoughtof the right word to get back, though. ' And then he told her all aboutit. She held him very tightly and let him talk. 

Perhaps she thought that a little boy to whom accidental magic happenedall in a minute, like that, was not exactly the right little boy forthat excellent school in Salisbury. Anyhow she took him to Egypt withher to meet his father, and, on the way, they happened to see a doctorin London who said: 'Nerves' which is a poor name for accidental magic, and Quentin does not believe it means the same thing at all. 

Quentin's father is well now, and he has left the army, and father andmother and Quentin live in a jolly, little, old house in Salisbury, andQuentin is a 'day boy' at that very same school. He and Smithson minorare the greatest of friends. But he has never told Smithson minor aboutthe accidental magic. He has learned now, and learned very thoroughly, that it is not always wise to tell all you know. If he had not ownedthat he knew that it was the Stonehenge altar stone!

 * * * * *

You may think that the accidental magic was all a dream, and thatQuentin dreamed it because his mother had told him so much aboutAtlantis. But then, how do you account for his dreaming so much that hismother had never told him? You think that that part wasn't true, well, it may have been true for anything I know. And I am sure you don't knowmore about it than I do. 

IV

THE PRINCESS AND THE HEDGE-PIG

'But I don't see what we're to _do_' said the Queen for the twentiethtime. 

'Whatever we do will end in misfortune, ' said the King gloomily; 'you'llsee it will. '

They were sitting in the honeysuckle arbour talking things over, whilethe nurse walked up and down the terrace with the new baby in her arms. 

'Yes, dear, ' said the poor Queen; 'I've not the slightest doubt Ishall. '

Misfortune comes in many ways, and you can't always know beforehand thata certain way is the way misfortune will come by: but there are thingsmisfortune comes after as surely as night comes after day. For instance, if you let all the water boil away, the kettle will have a hole burnt init. If you leave the bath taps running and the waste-pipe closed, thestairs of your house will, sooner or later, resemble Niagara. If youleave your purse at home, you won't have it with you when you want topay your tram-fare. And if you throw lighted wax matches at your muslincurtains, your parent will most likely have to pay five pounds to thefire engines for coming round and blowing the fire out with a wet hose. Also if you are a king and do not invite the wicked fairy to yourchristening parties, she will come all the same. And if you do ask thewicked fairy, she will come, and in either case it will be the worse forthe new princess. So what is a poor monarch to do? Of course there isone way out of the difficulty, and that is not to have a christeningparty at all. But this offends all the good fairies, and then where areyou?

All these reflections had presented themselves to the minds of KingOzymandias and his Queen, and neither of them could deny that they werein a most awkward situation. They were 'talking it over' for thehundredth time on the palace terrace where the pomegranates andoleanders grew in green tubs and the marble balustrade is overgrown withroses, red and white and pink and yellow. On the lower terrace the royalnurse was walking up and down with the baby princess that all the fusswas about. The Queen's eyes followed the baby admiringly. 

'The darling!' she said. 'Oh, Ozymandias, don't you sometimes wish we'dbeen poor people?'

'Never!' said the King decidedly. 

'Well, I do, ' said the Queen; 'then we could have had just you and meand your sister at the christening, and no fear of--oh! I've thought ofsomething. '

The King's patient expression showed that he did not think it likelythat she would have thought of anything useful; but at the first fivewords his expression changed. You would have said that he pricked up hisears, if kings had ears that could be pricked up. What she said was--

'Let's have a secret christening. '

'How?' asked the King. 

The Queen was gazing in the direction of the baby with what is called a'far away look' in her eyes. 

'Wait a minute, ' she said slowly. 'I see it all--yes--we'll have theparty in the cellars--you know they're splendid. '

'My great-grandfather had them built by Lancashire men, yes, 'interrupted the King. 

[Illustration: On the lower terrace the royal nurse was walking up anddown with the baby princess that all the fuss was about. ]

'We'll send out the invitations to look like bills. The baker's boy cantake them. He's a very nice boy. He made baby laugh yesterday when I wasexplaining to him about the Standard Bread. We'll just put "1 loaf 3. Aremittance at your earliest convenience will oblige. " That'll mean that1 person is invited for 3 o'clock, and on the back we'll write where andwhy in invisible ink. Lemon juice, you know. And the baker's boy shallbe told to ask to see the people--just as they do when they _really_mean earliest convenience--and then he shall just whisper: "Deadlysecret. Lemon juice. Hold it to the fire, " and come away. Oh, dearest, do say you approve!'

The King laid down his pipe, set his crown straight, and kissed theQueen with great and serious earnestness. 

'You are a wonder, ' he said. 'It is the very thing. But the baker's boyis very small. Can we trust him?'

'He is nine, ' said the Queen, 'and I have sometimes thought that he mustbe a prince in disguise. He is so very intelligent. '

The Queen's plan was carried out. The cellars, which were reallyextraordinarily fine, were secretly decorated by the King's confidentialman and the Queen's confidential maid and a few of _their_ confidentialfriends whom they knew they could really trust. You would never havethought they were cellars when the decorations were finished. The wallswere hung with white satin and white velvet, with wreaths of whiteroses, and the stone floors were covered with freshly cut turf withwhite daisies, brisk and neat, growing in it. 

The invitations were duly delivered by the baker's boy. On them waswritten in plain blue ink, 'The Royal Bakeries 1 loaf 3d. An early remittance will oblige. '

And when the people held the letter to the fire, as they werewhisperingly instructed to do by the baker's boy, they read in a faintbrown writing:--

'King Ozymandias and Queen Eliza invite you to the christening of theirdaughter Princess Ozyliza at three on Wednesday in the Palace cellars. 

'_P. S. _--We are obliged to be very secret and careful because of wickedfairies, so please come disguised as a tradesman with a bill, callingfor the last time before it leaves your hands. '

You will understand by this that the King and Queen were not as well offas they could wish; so that tradesmen calling at the palace with thatsort of message was the last thing likely to excite remark. But as mostof the King's subjects were not very well off either, this was merely abond between the King and his people. They could sympathise with eachother, and understand each other's troubles in a way impossible to mostkings and most nations. 

You can imagine the excitement in the families of the people who wereinvited to the christening party, and the interest they felt in theircostumes. The Lord Chief Justice disguised himself as a shoemaker; hestill had his old blue brief-bag by him, and a brief-bag and a boot-bagare very much alike. The Commander-in-Chief dressed as a dog's meat manand wheeled a barrow. The Prime Minister appeared as a tailor; thisrequired no change of dress and only a slight change of expression. Andthe other courtiers all disguised themselves perfectly. So did the goodfairies, who had, of course, been invited first of all. Benevola, Queenof the Good Fairies, disguised herself as a moonbeam, which can go intoany palace and no questions asked. Serena, the next in command, dressedas a butterfly, and all the other fairies had disguises equally prettyand tasteful. 

The Queen looked most kind and beautiful, the King very handsome andmanly, and all the guests agreed that the new princess was the mostbeautiful baby they had ever seen in all their born days. 

Everybody brought the most charming christening presents concealedbeneath their disguises. The fairies gave the usual gifts, beauty, grace, intelligence, charm, and so on. 

Everything seemed to be going better than well. But of course you knowit wasn't. The Lord High Admiral had not been able to get a cook's dresslarge enough completely to cover his uniform; a bit of an epaulette hadpeeped out, and the wicked fairy, Malevola, had spotted it as he wentpast her to the palace back door, near which she had been sittingdisguised as a dog without a collar hiding from the police, and enjoyingwhat she took to be the trouble the royal household were having withtheir tradesmen. 

Malevola almost jumped out of her dog-skin when she saw the glitter ofthat epaulette. 

'Hullo?' she said, and sniffed quite like a dog. 'I must look intothis, ' said she, and disguising herself as a toad, she crept unseen intothe pipe by which the copper emptied itself into the palace moat--for ofcourse there was a copper in one of the palace cellars as there alwaysis in cellars in the North Country. 

Now this copper had been a great trial to the decorators. If there isanything you don't like about your house, you can either try to concealit or 'make a feature of it. ' And as concealment of the copper wasimpossible, it was decided to 'make it a feature' by covering it withgreen moss and planting a tree in it, a little apple tree all in bloom. It had been very much admired. 

Malevola, hastily altering her disguise to that of a mole, dug her waythrough the earth that the copper was full of, got to the top and putout a sharp nose just as Benevola was saying in that soft voice whichMalevola always thought so affected, --

'The Princess shall love and be loved all her life long. '

'So she shall, ' said the wicked fairy, assuming her own shape amid thescreams of the audience. 'Be quiet, you silly cuckoo, ' she said to theLord Chamberlain, whose screams were specially piercing, 'or I'll give_you_ a christening present too. '

Instantly there was a dreadful silence. Only Queen Eliza, who had caughtup the baby at Malevola's first word, said feebly, --

'Oh, _don't_, dear Malevola. '

And the King said, 'It isn't exactly a party, don't you know. Quiteinformal. Just a few friends dropped in, eh, what?'

'So I perceive, ' said Malevola, laughing that dreadful laugh of herswhich makes other people feel as though they would never be able tolaugh any more. 'Well, I've dropped in too. Let's have a look at thechild. '

The poor Queen dared not refuse. She tottered forward with the baby inher arms. 

'Humph!' said Malevola, 'your precious daughter will have beauty andgrace and all the rest of the tuppenny halfpenny rubbish thoseniminy-piminy minxes have given her. But she will be turned out of herkingdom. She will have to face her enemies without a single human beingto stand by her, and she shall never come to her own again until shefinds----' Malevola hesitated. She could not think of anythingsufficiently unlikely--'until she finds, ' she repeated----

'A thousand spears to follow her to battle, ' said a new voice, 'athousand spears devoted to her and to her alone. '

A very young fairy fluttered down from the little apple tree where shehad been hiding among the pink and white blossom. 

'I am very young, I know, ' she said apologetically, 'and I've only justfinished my last course of Fairy History. So I know that if a fairystops more than half a second in a curse she can't go on, and some oneelse may finish it for her. That is so, Your Majesty, isn't it?' shesaid, appealing to Benevola. And the Queen of the Fairies said Yes, thatwas the law, only it was such an old one most people had forgotten it. 

'You think yourself very clever, ' said Malevola, 'but as a matter offact you're simply silly. That's the very thing I've provided against. She _can't_ have any one to stand by her in battle, so she'll lose herkingdom and every one will be killed, and I shall come to the funeral. It will be enormous, ' she added rubbing her hands at the joyous thought. 

'If you've quite finished, ' said the King politely, 'and if you're sureyou won't take any refreshment, may I wish you a very good afternoon?'He held the door open himself, and Malevola went out chuckling. Thewhole of the party then burst into tears. 

'Never mind, ' said the King at last, wiping his eyes with the tails ofhis ermine. 'It's a long way off and perhaps it won't happen after all. '

 * * * * *

But of course it did. 

The King did what he could to prepare his daughter for the fight inwhich she was to stand alone against her enemies. He had her taughtfencing and riding and shooting, both with the cross bow and the longbow, as well as with pistols, rifles, and artillery. She learned to diveand to swim, to run and to jump, to box and to wrestle, so that she grewup as strong and healthy as any young man, and could, indeed, have gotthe best of a fight with any prince of her own age. But the few princeswho called at the palace did not come to fight the Princess, and whenthey heard that the Princess had no dowry except the gifts of thefairies, and also what Malevola's gift had been, they all said they hadjust looked in as they were passing and that they must be going now, thank you. And went. 

And then the dreadful thing happened. The tradesmen, who had for yearsbeen calling for the last time before, etc. , really decided to place thematter in other hands. They called in a neighbouring king who marchedhis army into Ozymandias's country, conquered the army--the soldiers'wages hadn't been paid for years--turned out the King and Queen, paidthe tradesmen's bills, had most of the palace walls papered with thereceipts, and set up housekeeping there himself. 

Now when this happened the Princess was away on a visit to her aunt, theEmpress of Oricalchia, half the world away, and there is no regular postbetween the two countries, so that when she came home, travelling witha train of fifty-four camels, which is rather slow work, and arrived ather own kingdom, she expected to find all the flags flying and the bellsringing and the streets decked in roses to welcome her home. 

Instead of which nothing of the kind. The streets were all as dull asdull, the shops were closed because it was early-closing day, and shedid not see a single person she knew. 

She left the fifty-four camels laden with the presents her aunt hadgiven her outside the gates, and rode alone on her own pet camel to thepalace, wondering whether perhaps her father had not received the lettershe had sent on ahead by carrier pigeon the day before. 

And when she got to the palace and got off her camel and went in, therewas a strange king on her father's throne and a strange queen sat in hermother's place at his side. 

'Where's my father?' said the Princess, bold as brass, standing on thesteps of the throne. 'And what are you doing there?'

'I might ask you that, ' said the King. 'Who are you, anyway?'

'I am the Princess Ozyliza, ' said she. 

'Oh, I've heard of you, ' said the King. 'You've been expected for sometime. Your father's been evicted, so now you know. No, I can't give youhis address. '

Just then some one came and whispered to the Queen that fifty-fourcamels laden with silks and velvets and monkeys and parakeets and therichest treasures of Oricalchia were outside the city gate. She put twoand two together, and whispered to the King, who nodded and said:

'I wish to make a new law. '

Every one fell flat on his face. The law is so much respected in thatcountry. 

'No one called Ozyliza is allowed to own property in this kingdom, ' saidthe King. 'Turn out that stranger. '

So the Princess was turned out of her father's palace, and went out andcried in the palace gardens where she had been so happy when she waslittle. 

And the baker's boy, who was now the baker's young man, came by with thestandard bread and saw some one crying among the oleanders, and went tosay, 'Cheer up!' to whoever it was. And it was the Princess. He knew herat once. 

'Oh, Princess, ' he said, 'cheer up! Nothing is ever so bad as it seems. '

'Oh, Baker's Boy, ' said she, for she knew him too, 'how can I cheer up?I am turned out of my kingdom. I haven't got my father's address, and Ihave to face my enemies without a single human being to stand by me. '

[Illustration: Instantly a flight of winged arrows crossed the garden. ]

'That's not true, at any rate, ' said the baker's boy, whose name wasErinaceus, 'you've got me. If you'll let me be your squire, I'll followyou round the world and help you to fight your enemies. '

'You won't be let, ' said the Princess sadly, 'but I thank you very muchall the same. '

She dried her eyes and stood up. 

'I must go, ' she said, 'and I've nowhere to go to. '

Now as soon as the Princess had been turned out of the palace, the Queensaid, 'You'd much better have beheaded her for treason. ' And the Kingsaid, 'I'll tell the archers to pick her off as she leaves the grounds. '

So when she stood up, out there among the oleanders, some one on theterrace cried, 'There she is!' and instantly a flight of winged arrowscrossed the garden. At the cry Erinaceus flung himself in front of her, clasping her in his arms and turning his back to the arrows. The RoyalArchers were a thousand strong and all excellent shots. Erinaceus felt athousand arrows sticking into his back. 

'And now my last friend is dead, ' cried the Princess. But being a verystrong princess, she dragged him into the shrubbery out of sight of thepalace, and then dragged him into the wood and called aloud on Benevola, Queen of the Fairies, and Benevola came. 

'They've killed my only friend, ' said the Princess, 'at least.... ShallI pull out the arrows?'

'If you do, ' said the Fairy, 'he'll certainly bleed to death. '

'And he'll die if they stay in, ' said the Princess. 

'Not necessarily, ' said the Fairy; 'let me cut them a little shorter. 'She did, with her fairy pocket-knife. 'Now, ' she said, 'I'll do what Ican, but I'm afraid it'll be a disappointment to you both. Erinaceus, 'she went on, addressing the unconscious baker's boy with the stumps ofthe arrows still sticking in him, 'I command you, as soon as I havevanished, to assume the form of a hedge-pig. The hedge-pig, ' sheexclaimed to the Princess, 'is the only nice person who can livecomfortably with a thousand spikes sticking out of him. Yes, I knowthere are porcupines, but porcupines are vicious and ill-mannered. Good-bye!'

And with that she vanished. So did Erinaceus, and the Princess foundherself alone among the oleanders; and on the green turf was a small andvery prickly brown hedge-pig. 

'Oh, dear!' she said, 'now I'm all alone again, and the baker's boy hasgiven his life for mine, and mine isn't worth having. '

'It's worth more than all the world, ' said a sharp little voice at herfeet. 

'Oh, can you talk?' she said, quite cheered. 

'Why not?' said the hedge-pig sturdily; 'it's only the _form_ of thehedge-pig I've assumed. I'm Erinaceus inside, all right enough. Pick meup in a corner of your mantle so as not to prick your darling hands. '

'You mustn't call names, you know, ' said the Princess, 'even yourhedge-pigginess can't excuse such liberties. '

'I'm sorry, Princess, ' said the hedge-pig, 'but I can't help it. Onlyhuman beings speak lies; all other creatures tell the truth. Now I'vegot a hedge-pig's tongue it won't speak anything but the truth. And thetruth is that I love you more than all the world. '

'Well, ' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'since you're a hedge-pig Isuppose you may love me, and I may love you. Like pet dogs or gold-fish. Dear little hedge-pig, then!'

'Don't!' said the hedge-pig, 'remember I'm the baker's boy in my mindand soul. My hedge-pigginess is only skin-deep. Pick me up, dearest ofPrincesses, and let us go to seek our fortunes. '

'I think it's my parents I ought to seek, ' said the Princess. 'However... '

She picked up the hedge-pig in the corner of her mantle and they wentaway through the wood. 

They slept that night at a wood-cutter's cottage. The wood-cutter wasvery kind, and made a nice little box of beech-wood for the hedge-pig tobe carried in, and he told the Princess that most of her father'ssubjects were still loyal, but that no one could fight for him becausethey would be fighting for the Princess too, and however much they mightwish to do this, Malevola's curse assured them that it was impossible. 

So the Princess put her hedge-pig in its little box and went on, lookingeverywhere for her father and mother, and, after more adventures than Ihave time to tell you, she found them at last, living in quite a poorway in a semi-detached villa at Tooting. They were very glad to see her, but when they heard that she meant to try to get back the kingdom, theKing said:

'I shouldn't bother, my child, I really shouldn't. We are quite happyhere. I have the pension always given to Deposed Monarchs, and yourmother is becoming a really economical manager. '

The Queen blushed with pleasure, and said, 'Thank you, dear. But if youshould succeed in turning that wicked usurper out, Ozyliza, I hope Ishall be a better queen than I used to be. I am learning housekeeping atan evening class at the Crown-maker's Institute. '

The Princess kissed her parents and went out into the garden to think itover. But the garden was small and quite full of wet washing hung onlines. So she went into the road, but that was full of dust andperambulators. Even the wet washing was better than that, so she wentback and sat down on the grass in a white alley of tablecloths andsheets, all marked with a crown in indelible ink. And she took thehedge-pig out of the box. It was rolled up in a ball, but she strokedthe little bit of soft forehead that you can always find if you lookcarefully at a rolled-up hedge-pig, and the hedge-pig uncurled and said:

'I am afraid I was asleep, Princess dear. Did you want me?'

'You're the only person who knows all about everything, ' said she. 'Ihaven't told father and mother about the arrows. Now what do youadvise?'

Erinaceus was flattered at having his advice asked, but unfortunately hehadn't any to give. 

'It's your work, Princess, ' he said. 'I can only promise to do anythinga hedge-pig _can_ do. It's not much. Of course I could die for you, butthat's so useless. '

'Quite, ' said she. 

'I wish I were invisible, ' he said dreamily. 

'Oh, where are you?' cried Ozyliza, for the hedge-pig had vanished. 

'Here, ' said a sharp little voice. 'You can't see me, but I can seeeverything I want to see. And I can see what to do. I'll crawl into mybox, and you must disguise yourself as an old French governess with thebest references and answer the advertisement that the wicked king putyesterday in the "Usurpers Journal. "'

The Queen helped the Princess to disguise herself, which, of course, theQueen would never have done if she had known about the arrows; and theKing gave her some of his pension to buy a ticket with, so she went backquite quickly, by train, to her own kingdom. 

The usurping King at once engaged the French governess to teach his cookto read French cookery books, because the best recipes are in French. Ofcourse he had no idea that there was a princess, _the_ Princess, beneaththe governessial disguise. The French lessons were from 6 to 8 in themorning and from 2 to 4 in the afternoon, and all the rest of the timethe governess could spend as she liked. She spent it walking about thepalace gardens and talking to her invisible hedge-pig. They talked abouteverything under the sun, and the hedge-pig was the best of company. 

'How did you become invisible?' she asked one day, and it said, 'Isuppose it was Benevola's doing. Only I think every one gets _one_ wishgranted if they only wish hard enough. '

On the fifty-fifth day the hedge-pig said, 'Now, Princess dear, I'mgoing to begin to get you back your kingdom. '

And next morning the King came down to breakfast in a dreadful rage withhis face covered up in bandages. 

'This palace is haunted, ' he said. 'In the middle of the night adreadful spiked ball was thrown in my face. I lighted a match. There wasnothing. '

The Queen said, 'Nonsense! You must have been dreaming. '

But next morning it was her turn to come down with a bandaged face. Andthe night after, the King had the spiky ball thrown at him again. Andthen the Queen had it. And then they both had it, so that they couldn'tsleep at all, and had to lie awake with nothing to think of but theirwickedness. And every five minutes a very little voice whispered:

'Who stole the kingdom? Who killed the Princess?' till the King andQueen could have screamed with misery. 

And at last the Queen said, 'We needn't have killed the Princess. '

And the King said, 'I've been thinking that, too. '

And next day the King said, 'I don't know that we ought to have takenthis kingdom. We had a really high-class kingdom of our own. '

'I've been thinking that too, ' said the Queen. 

By this time their hands and arms and necks and faces and ears were verysore indeed, and they were sick with want of sleep. 

'Look here, ' said the King, 'let's chuck it. Let's write to Ozymandiasand tell him he can take over his kingdom again. I've had jolly wellenough of this. '

'Let's, ' said the Queen, 'but we can't bring the Princess to life again. I do wish we could, ' and she cried a little through her bandages intoher egg, for it was breakfast time. 

'Do you mean that, ' said a little sharp voice, though there was no oneto be seen in the room. The King and Queen clung to each other interror, upsetting the urn over the toast-rack. 

'Do you mean it?' said the voice again; 'answer, yes or no. '

'Yes, ' said the Queen, 'I don't know who you are, but, yes, yes, yes. Ican't _think_ how we could have been so wicked. '

'Nor I, ' said the King. 

'Then send for the French governess, ' said the voice. 

'Ring the bell, dear, ' said the Queen. 'I'm sure what it says is right. It is the voice of conscience. I've often heard _of_ it, but I neverheard it before. '

The King pulled the richly-jewelled bell-rope and ten magnificent greenand gold footmen appeared. 

'Please ask Mademoiselle to step this way, ' said the Queen. 

The ten magnificent green and gold footmen found the governess besidethe marble basin feeding the gold-fish, and, bowing their ten greenbacks, they gave the Queen's message. The governess who, every oneagreed, was always most obliging, went at once to the pink satinbreakfast-room where the King and Queen were sitting, almostunrecognisable in their bandages. 

'Yes, Your Majesties?' said she curtseying. 

'The voice of conscience, ' said the Queen, 'told us to send for you. Isthere any recipe in the French books for bringing shot princesses tolife? If so, will you kindly translate it for us?'

'There is _one_, ' said the Princess thoughtfully, 'and it is quitesimple. Take a king and a queen and the voice of conscience. Place themin a clean pink breakfast-room with eggs, coffee, and toast. Add afull-sized French governess. The king and queen must be thoroughlypricked and bandaged, and the voice of conscience must be verydistinct. '

'Is that all?' asked the Queen. 

'That's all, ' said the governess, 'except that the king and queen musthave two more bandages over their eyes, and keep them on till the voiceof conscience has counted fifty-five very slowly. '

'If you would be so kind, ' said the Queen, 'as to bandage us with ourtable napkins? Only be careful how you fold them, because our faces arevery sore, and the royal monogram is very stiff and hard owing to itsbeing embroidered in seed pearls by special command. '

'I will be very careful, ' said the governess kindly. 

The moment the King and Queen were blindfolded, the 'voice ofconscience' began, 'one, two, three, ' and Ozyliza tore off herdisguise, and under the fussy black-and-violet-spotted alpaca of theFrench governess was the simple slim cloth-of-silver dress of thePrincess. She stuffed the alpaca up the chimney and the grey wig intothe tea-cosy, and had disposed of the mittens in the coffee-pot and theelastic-side boots in the coal-scuttle, just as the voice of consciencesaid--

'Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five!' and stopped. 

The King and Queen pulled off the bandages, and there, alive and well, with bright clear eyes and pinky cheeks and a mouth that smiled, was thePrincess whom they supposed to have been killed by the thousand arrowsof their thousand archers. 

Before they had time to say a word the Princess said:

'Good morning, Your Majesties. I am afraid you have had bad dreams. Sohave I. Let us all try to forget them. I hope you will stay a littlelonger in my palace. You are very welcome. I am so sorry you have beenhurt. '

'We deserved it, ' said the Queen, 'and we want to say we have heard thevoice of conscience, and do please forgive us. '

'Not another word, ' said the Princess, '_do_ let me have some fresh teamade. And some more eggs. These are quite cold. And the urn's beenupset. We'll have a new breakfast. And I _am_ so sorry your faces areso sore. '

'If you kissed them, ' said the voice which the King and Queen called thevoice of conscience, 'their faces would not be sore any more. '

'May I?' said Ozyliza, and kissed the King's ear and the Queen's nose, all she could get at through the bandages. 

And instantly they were quite well. 

They had a delightful breakfast. Then the King caused the royalhousehold to assemble in the throne-room, and there announced that, asthe Princess had come to claim the kingdom, they were returning to theirown kingdom by the three-seventeen train on Thursday. 

Every one cheered like mad, and the whole town was decorated andilluminated that evening. Flags flew from every house, and the bells allrang, just as the Princess had expected them to do that day when shecame home with the fifty-five camels. All the treasure these had carriedwas given back to the Princess, and the camels themselves were restoredto her, hardly at all the worse for wear. 

The usurping King and Queen were seen off at the station by thePrincess, and parted from her with real affection. You see they weren'tcompletely wicked in their hearts, but they had never had time to thinkbefore. And being kept awake at night forced them to think. And the'voice of conscience' gave them something to think about. 

They gave the Princess the receipted bills, with which most of thepalace was papered, in return for board and lodging. 

When they were gone a telegram was sent off. 

 Ozymandias Rex, Esq. , Chatsworth, Delamere Road, Tooting, England. 

 Please come home at once. Palace vacant. Tenants have left. --Ozyliza P. 

And they came immediately. 

When they arrived the Princess told them the whole story, and theykissed and praised her, and called her their deliverer and the saviourof her country. 

'_I_ haven't done anything, ' she said. 'It was Erinaceus who dideverything, and.... '

'But the fairies said, ' interrupted the King, who was never clever atthe best of times, 'that you couldn't get the kingdom back till you hada thousand spears devoted to you, to you alone. '

'There are a thousand spears in my back, ' said a little sharp voice, 'and they are all devoted to the Princess and to her alone. '

'Don't!' said the King irritably. 'That voice coming out of nothingmakes me jump. '

'I can't get used to it either, ' said the Queen. 'We must have a goldcage built for the little animal. But I must say I wish it was visible. '

'So do I, ' said the Princess earnestly. And instantly it was. I supposethe Princess wished it very hard, for there was the hedge-pig with itslong spiky body and its little pointed face, its bright eyes, its smallround ears, and its sharp, turned-up nose. 

It looked at the Princess but it did not speak. 

'Say something _now_, ' said Queen Eliza. 'I should like to _see_ ahedge-pig speak. '

'The truth is, if speak I must, I must speak the truth, ' said Erinaceus. 'The Princess has thrown away her life-wish to make me visible. I wishshe had wished instead for something nice for herself. '

'Oh, was that my life-wish?' cried the Princess. 'I didn't know, dearHedge-pig, I didn't know. If I'd only known, I would have wished youback into your proper shape. '

'If you had, ' said the hedge-pig, 'it would have been the shape of adead man. Remember that I have a thousand spears in my back, and no mancan carry those and live. '

The Princess burst into tears. 

[Illustration: 'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand spears, 'she said, 'to give you what you wish. ']

'Oh, you can't go on being a hedge-pig for ever, ' she said, 'it's notfair. I can't bear it. Oh Mamma! Oh Papa! Oh Benevola!'

And there stood Benevola before them, a little dazzling figure with bluebutterfly's wings and a wreath of moonshine. 

'Well?' she said, 'well?'

'Oh, you know, ' said the Princess, still crying. 'I've thrown away mylife-wish, and he's still a hedge-pig. Can't you do _anything_!'

'_I_ can't, ' said the Fairy, 'but you can. Your kisses are magic kisses. Don't you remember how you cured the King and Queen of all the woundsthe hedge-pig made by rolling itself on to their faces in the night?'

'But she can't go kissing hedge-pigs, ' said the Queen, 'it would be mostunsuitable. Besides it would hurt her. '

But the hedge-pig raised its little pointed face, and the Princess tookit up in her hands. She had long since learned how to do this withouthurting either herself or it. She looked in its little bright eyes. 

'I would kiss you on every one of your thousand spears, ' she said, 'togive you what you wish. '

'Kiss me once, ' it said, 'where my fur is soft. That is all I wish, andenough to live and die for. '

She stooped her head and kissed it on its forehead where the fur issoft, just where the prickles begin. 

And instantly she was standing with her hands on a young man's shouldersand her lips on a young man's face just where the hair begins and theforehead leaves off. And all round his feet lay a pile of fallen arrows. 

She drew back and looked at him. 

'Erinaceus, ' she said, 'you're different--from the baker's boy I mean. '

'When I was an invisible hedge-pig, ' he said, 'I knew everything. Now Ihave forgotten all that wisdom save only two things. One is that I am aking's son. I was stolen away in infancy by an unprincipled baker, and Iam really the son of that usurping King whose face I rolled on in thenight. It is a painful thing to roll on your father's face when you areall spiky, but I did it, Princess, for your sake, and for my father'stoo. And now I will go to him and tell him all, and ask hisforgiveness. '

'You won't go away?' said the Princess. 'Ah! don't go away. What shall Ido without my hedge-pig?'

Erinaceus stood still, looking very handsome and like a prince. 

'What is the other thing that you remember of your hedge-pig wisdom?'asked the Queen curiously. And Erinaceus answered, not to her but to thePrincess:

'The other thing, Princess, is that I love you. '

'Isn't there a third thing, Erinaceus?' said the Princess, looking down. 

'There is, but you must speak that, not I. '

'Oh, ' said the Princess, a little disappointed, 'then you knew that Iloved you?'

'Hedge-pigs are very wise little beasts, ' said Erinaceus, 'but I onlyknew that when you told it me. '

'I--told you?'

'When you kissed my little pointed face, Princess, ' said Erinaceus, 'Iknew then. '

'My goodness gracious me, ' said the King. 

'Quite so, ' said Benevola, 'and I wouldn't ask _any one_ to thewedding. '

'Except you, dear, ' said the Queen. 

'Well, as I happened to be passing ... There's no time like thepresent, ' said Benevola briskly. 'Suppose you give orders for thewedding bells to be rung now, at once!'

V

SEPTIMUS SEPTIMUSSON

The wind was screaming over the marsh. It shook the shutters and rattledthe windows, and the little boy lay awake in the bare attic. His mothercame softly up the ladder stairs shading the flame of the tallow candlewith her hand. 

'I'm not asleep, mother, ' said he. And she heard the tears in his voice. 

'Why, silly lad, ' she said, sitting down on the straw-bed beside him andputting the candle on the floor, 'what are you crying for?'

'It's the wind keeps calling me, mother, ' he said. 'It won't let mealone. It never has since I put up the little weather-cock for it toplay with. It keeps saying, "Wake up, Septimus Septimusson, wake up, you're the seventh son of a seventh son. You can see the fairies andhear the beasts speak, and you must go out and seek your fortune. " AndI'm afraid, and I don't want to go. '

'I should think not indeed, ' said his mother. 'The wind doesn't talk, Sep, not really. You just go to sleep like a good boy, and I'll getfather to bring you a gingerbread pig from the fair to-morrow. '

But Sep lay awake a long time listening to what the wind really did keepon saying, and feeling ashamed to think how frightened he was of goingout all alone to seek his fortune--a thing all the boys in books wereonly too happy to do. 

Next evening father brought home the loveliest gingerbread pig withcurrant eyes. Sep ate it, and it made him less anxious than ever to goout into the world where, perhaps, no one would give him gingerbreadpigs ever any more. 

Before he went to bed he ran down to the shore where a great new harbourwas being made. The workmen had been blasting the big rocks, and on oneof the rocks a lot of mussels were sticking. He stood looking at them, and then suddenly he heard a lot of little voices crying, 'Oh Sep, we'reso frightened, we're choking. '

The voices were thin and sharp as the edges of mussel shells. They wereindeed the voices of the mussels themselves. 

'Oh dear, ' said Sep, 'I'm so sorry, but I can't move the rock back intothe sea, you know. Can I now?'

'No, ' said the mussels, 'but if you speak to the wind, --you know hislanguage and he's very fond of you since you made that toy forhim, --he'll blow the sea up till the waves wash us back into deepwater. '

'But I'm afraid of the wind, ' said Sep, 'it says things that frightenme. '

'Oh very well, ' said the mussels, 'we don't want you to be afraid. Wecan die all right if necessary. '

Then Sep shivered and trembled. 

'Go away, ' said the thin sharp voices. 'We'll die--but we'd rather diein our own brave company. '

'I know I'm a coward, ' said Sep. 'Oh, wait a minute. '

'Death won't wait, ' said the little voices. 

'I can't speak to the wind, I won't, ' said Sep, and almost at the samemoment he heard himself call out, 'Oh wind, please come and blow up thewaves to save the poor mussels. '

The wind answered with a boisterous shout--

'All right, my boy, ' it shrieked, 'I'm coming. ' And come it did. Andwhen it had attended to the mussels it came and whispered to Sep in hisattic. And to his great surprise, instead of covering his head with thebed-clothes, as usual, and trying not to listen, he found himselfsitting up in bed and talking to the wind, man to man. 

'Why, ' he said, 'I'm not afraid of you any more. '

'Of course not, we're friends now, ' said the wind. 'That's because wejoined together to do a kindness to some one. There's nothing like thatfor making people friends. '

'Oh, ' said Sep. 

'Yes, ' said the wind, 'and now, old chap, when will you go out and seekyour fortune? Remember how poor your father is, and the fortune, if youfind it, won't be just for you, but for your father and mother and theothers. '

'Oh, ' said Sep, 'I didn't think of that. '

'Yes, ' said the wind, 'really, my dear fellow, I do hate to bother you, but it's better to fix a time. Now when shall we start?'

'We?' said Sep. 'Are you going with me?'

'I'll see you a bit of the way, ' said the wind. 'What do you say now?Shall we start to-night? There's no time like the present. '

'I do hate going, ' said Sep. 

'Of course you do!' said the wind, cordially. 'Come along. Get into yourthings, and we'll make a beginning. '

So Sep dressed, and he wrote on his slate in very big letters, 'Gone toseek our fortune, ' and he put it on the table so that his mother shouldsee it when she came down in the morning. And he went out of the cottageand the wind kindly shut the door after him. 

The wind gently pushed him down to the shore, and there he got into hisfather's boat, which was called the _Septimus and Susie_, after hisfather and mother, and the wind carried him across to another countryand there he landed. 

'Now, ' said the wind, clapping him on the back, 'off you go, and goodluck to you!'

And it turned round and took the boat home again. 

When Sep's mother found the writing on the slate, and his father foundthe boat gone they feared that Sep was drowned, but when the windbrought the boat back wrong way up, they were quite sure, and they bothcried for many a long day. 

The wind tried to tell them that Sep was all right, but they couldn'tunderstand wind-talk, and they only said, 'Drat the wind, ' and fastenedthe shutters up tight, and put wedges in the windows. 

Sep walked along the straight white road that led across the newcountry. He had no more idea how to look for _his_ fortune than youwould have if you suddenly left off reading this and went out of yourfront door to seek _yours_. 

However, he had made a start, and that is always something. When he hadgone exactly seven miles on that straight foreign road, between strangetrees, and bordered with flowers he did not know the names of, he hearda groaning in the wood, and some one sighing and saying, 'Oh, how hardit is, to have to die and never see my wife and the little cubs again. '

The voice was rough as a lion's mane, and strong as a lion's claws, andSep was very frightened. But he said, 'I'm not afraid, ' and then oddlyenough he found he had spoken the truth--he wasn't afraid. 

He broke through the bushes and found that the person who had spoken wasindeed a lion. A javelin had pierced its shoulder and fastened it to agreat tree. 

'All right, ' cried Sep, 'hold still a minute, sir. '

He got out his knife and cut and cut at the shaft of the javelin till hewas able to break it off. Then the lion drew back and the broken shaftpassed through the wound and the broken javelin was left sticking in thetree. 

'I'm really extremely obliged, my dear fellow, ' said the lion warmly. 'Pray command me, if there's any little thing I can do for you at anytime. '

'Don't mention it, ' said Sep with proper politeness, 'delighted to havebeen of use to you, I'm sure. '

So they parted. As Sep scrambled through the bushes back to the road hekicked against an axe that lay on the ground. 

'Hullo, ' said he, 'some poor woodman's dropped this, and not been ableto find it. I'll take it along--perhaps I may meet him. '

He was getting very tired and very hungry, and presently he sat down torest under a chestnut-tree, and he heard two little voices talking inthe branches, voices soft as a squirrel's fur, and bright as asquirrel's eyes. They were, indeed, the voices of two squirrels. 

'Hush, ' said one, 'there's some one below. '

'Oh, ' said the other, 'it's a horrid boy. Let's scurry away. '

'I'm not a horrid boy, ' said Sep. 'I'm the seventh son of a seventhson. '

'Oh, ' said Mrs. Squirrel, 'of course that makes all the difference. Havesome nuts?'

'Rather, ' said Sep. 'At least I mean, yes, if you please. '

So the squirrels brought nuts down to him, and when he had eaten as manyas he wanted they filled his pockets, and then in return he chopped allthe lower boughs off the chestnut-tree, so that boys who were _not_seventh sons could not climb up and interfere with the squirrels'housekeeping arrangements. 

Then they parted, the best of friends, and Sep went on. 

'I haven't found my fortune yet, ' said he, 'but I've made a friend ortwo. '

And just as he was saying that, he turned a corner of the road and metan old gentleman in a fur-lined coat riding a fine, big, grey horse. 

'Hullo!' said the gentleman. 'Who are you, and where are you off to sobright and early?'

'I'm Septimus Septimusson, ' said Sep, 'and I'm going to seek myfortune. '

'And you've taken an axe to help you carve your way to glory?'

'No, ' said Sep, 'I found it, and I suppose some one lost it. So I'mbringing it along in case I meet him. '

'Heavy, isn't it?' said the old gentleman. 

'Yes, ' said Sep. 

'Then I'll carry it for you, ' said the old gentleman, 'for it's one thatmy head forester lost yesterday. And now come along with me, for you'rethe boy I've been looking for for seven years--an honest boy and theseventh son of a seventh son. '

So Sep went home with the gentleman, who was a great lord in thatcountry, and he lived in that lord's castle and was taught everythingthat a gentleman ought to know. And in return he told the lord all aboutthe ways of birds and beasts--for as he understood their talk he knewmore about them than any one else in that country. And the lord wrote itall down in a book, and half the people said it was wonderfully clever, and the other half said it was nonsense, and how could he know. This wasfame, and the lord was very pleased. But though the old lord was sofamous he would not leave his castle, for he had a hump that anenchanter had fastened on to him, and he couldn't bear to be seen withit. 

'But you'll get rid of it for me some day, my boy, ' he used to say. 'Noone but the seventh son of a seventh son and an honest boy can do it. Soall the doctors say. '

So Sep grew up. And when he was twenty-one--straight as a lance andhandsome as a picture--the old lord said to him. 

'My boy, you've been like a son to me, but now it's time you got marriedand had sons of your own. Is there any girl you'd like to marry?'

'No, ' said Sep, 'I never did care much for girls. '

The old lord laughed. 

'Then you must set out again and seek your fortune once more, ' he said, 'because no man has really found his fortune till he's found the ladywho is his heart's lady. Choose the best horse in the stable, and offyou go, lad, and my blessing go with you. '

So Sep chose a good red horse and set out, and he rode straight to thegreat city, that shone golden across the plain, and when he got there hefound every one crying. 

'Why, whatever is the matter?' said Sep, reining in the red horse infront of a smithy, where the apprentices were crying on to the fires, and the smith was dropping tears on the anvil. 

'Why the Princess is dying, ' said the blacksmith blowing his nose. 'Anasty, wicked magician--he had a spite against the King, and he got atthe Princess when she was playing ball in the garden, and now she'sblind and deaf and dumb. And she won't eat. '

'And she'll die, ' said the first apprentice. 

'And she _is_ such a dear, ' said the other apprentice. 

Sep sat still on the red horse thinking. 

'Has anything been done?' he asked. 

'Oh yes, ' said the blacksmith. 'All the doctors have seen her, but theycan't do anything. And the King has advertised in the usual way, thatany one who can cure her may marry her. But it's no good. King's sonsaren't what they used to be. A silly lot they are nowadays, all taken upwith football and cricket and golf. '

'Humph, ' said Sep, 'thank you. Which is the way to the palace?'

The blacksmith pointed, and then burst into tears again. Sep rode on. 

When he got to the palace he asked to see the King. Every one there wascrying too, from the footman who opened the door to the King, who wassitting upon his golden throne and looking at his fine collection ofbutterflies through floods of tears. 

'Oh dear me yes, young man, ' said the King, 'you may _see_ her andwelcome, but it's no good. '

'We can but try, ' said Sep. So he was taken to the room where thePrincess sat huddled up on her silver throne among the white velvetcushions with her crown all on one side, crying out of her poor blindeyes, so that the tears ran down over her green gown with the red roseson it. 

And directly he saw her he knew that she was the only girl, Princess asshe was, with a crown and a throne, who could ever be his heart's lady. He went up to her and kneeled at her side and took her hand and kissedit. The Princess started. She could not see or hear him, but at thetouch of his hand and his lips she knew that he was her heart's lord, and she threw her arms round his neck, and cried more than ever. 

He held her in his arms and stroked her hair till she stopped crying, and then he called for bread and milk. This was brought in a silverbasin, and he fed her with it as you feed a little child. 

The news ran through the city, 'The Princess has eaten, ' and all thebells were set ringing. Sep said good-night to his Princess and went tobed in the best bedroom of the palace. Early in the grey morning he gotup and leaned out of the open window and called to his old friend thewind. 

And the wind came bustling in and clapped him on the back, crying, 'Well, my boy, and what can I do for you? Eh?'

Sep told him all about the Princess. 

'Well, ' said the wind, 'you've not done so badly. At any rate you've gother love. And you couldn't have got that with anybody's help but yourown. Now, of course, the thing to do is to find the wicked Magician. '

'Of course, ' said Sep. 

'Well--I travel a good deal--I'll keep my eyes open, and let you knowif I hear anything. '

Sep spent the day holding the Princess's hand, and feeding her at mealtimes; and that night the wind rattled his window and said, 'Let me in. '

It came in very noisily, and said, 'Well, I've found your Magician, he'sin the forest pretending to be a mole. '

'How can I find him?' said Sep. 

'Haven't you any friends in the forest?' asked the wind. 

Then Sep remembered his friends the squirrels, and he mounted his horseand rode away to the chestnut-tree where they lived. They were charmedto see him grown so tall and strong and handsome, and when he had toldthem his story they said at once--

'Oh yes! delighted to be of any service to you. ' And they called to alltheir little brothers and cousins, and uncles and nephews to search theforest for a mole that wasn't really a mole, and quite soon they foundhim, and hustled and shoved him along till he was face to face with Sep, in a green glade. The glade was green, but all the bushes and treesaround were red-brown with squirrel fur, and shining bright withsquirrel eyes. 

Then Sep said, 'Give the Princess back her eyes and her hearing and hervoice. '

But the mole would not. 

'Give the Princess back her eyes and her hearing and her voice, ' saidSep again. But the mole only gnashed his wicked teeth and snarled. 

And then in a minute the squirrels fell on the mole and killed it, andSep thanked them and rode back to the palace, for, of course, he knewthat when a magician is killed, all his magic unworks itself instantly. 

But when he got to his Princess she was still as deaf as a post and asdumb as a stone, and she was still crying bitterly with her poor blindeyes, till the tears ran down her grass-green gown with the red roses onit. 

'Cheer up, my sweetheart, ' he said, though he knew she couldn't hearhim, and as he spoke the wind came in at the open window, and spoke verysoftly, because it was in the presence of the Princess. 

'All right, ' it whispered, 'the old villain gave us the slip thatjourney. Got out of the mole-skin in the very nick of time. He's a wildboar now. '

'Come, ' said Sep, fingering his sword-hilt, 'I'll kill that myselfwithout asking it any questions. '

So he went and fought it. But it was a most uncommon boar, as big as ahorse, with tusks half a yard long; and although Sep wounded it itjerked the sword out of his hand with its tusk, and was just going totrample him out of life with its hard, heavy pigs'-feet, when a greatroar sounded through the forest. 

'Ah! would ye?' said the lion, and fastened teeth and claws in the greatboar's back. The boar turned with a scream of rage, but the lion had gota good grip, and it did not loosen teeth or claws till the boar layquiet. 

'Is he dead?' asked Sep when he came to himself. 

'Oh yes, he's _dead_ right enough, ' said the lion; but the wind came uppuffing and blowing, and said:

'It's no good, he's got away again, and now he's a fish. I was just aminute too late to see _what_ fish. An old oyster told me about it, onlyhe hadn't the wit to notice what particular fish the scoundrel changedinto. '

So then Sep went back to the palace, and he said to the King:

'Let me marry the dear Princess, and we'll go out and seek our fortune. I've got to kill that Magician, and I'll do it too, or my name's notSeptimus Septimusson. But it may take years and years, and I can't beaway from the Princess all that time, because she won't eat unless Ifeed her. You see the difficulty, Sire?'

The King saw it. And that very day Sep was married to the Princess inher green gown with the red roses on it, and they set out together. 

The wind went with them, and the wind, or something else, seemed to sayto Sep, 'Go home, take your wife home to your mother. '

So he did. He crossed the land and he crossed the sea, and he went upthe red-brick path to his father's cottage, and he peeped in at the doorand said:

'Father, mother, here's my wife. '

They were so pleased to see him--for they had thought him dead, thatthey didn't notice the Princess at first, and when they did notice herthey wondered at her beautiful face and her beautiful gown--but itwasn't till they had all settled down to supper--boiled rabbit itwas--and they noticed Sep feeding his wife as one feeds a baby that theysaw that she was blind. 

And then all the story had to be told. 

'Well, well, ' said the fisherman, 'you and your wife bide here with us. I daresay I'll catch that old sinner in my nets one of these fine days. 'But he never did. And Sep and his wife lived with the old people. Andthey were happy after a fashion--but of an evening Sep used to wanderand wonder, and wonder and wander by the sea-shore, wondering as hewandered whether he wouldn't ever have the luck to catch that fish. 

And one evening as he wandered wondering he heard a little, sharp, thinvoice say:

'Sep. I've got it. '

'What?' asked Sep, forgetting his manners. 

'I've got it, ' said a big mussel on a rock close by him, 'the magicstone that the Magician does his enchantments with. He dropped it out ofhis mouth and I shut my shells on it--and now he's sweeping up and downthe sea like a mad fish, looking for it--for he knows he can neverchange into anything else unless he gets it back. Here, take the nastything, it's making me feel quite ill. '

It opened its shells wide, and Sep saw a pearl. He reached out his handand took it. 

'That's better, ' said the mussel, washing its shells out with saltwater. 

'Can _I_ do magic with it?' Sep eagerly asked. 

'No, ' said the mussel sadly, 'it's of no use to any one but the owner. Now, if I were you, I'd get into a boat, and if your friend the windwill help us, I believe we really can do the trick. '

'I'm at your service, of course, ' said the wind, getting up instantly. 

The mussel whispered to the wind, who rushed off at once; and Seplaunched his boat. 

'Now, ' said the mussel, 'you get into the very middle of the sea--or asnear as you can guess it. The wind will warn all the other fishes. ' Ashe spoke he disappeared in the dark waters. 

Sep got the boat into the middle of the sea--as near as he could guessit--and waited. 

After a long time he saw something swirling about in a sort of whirlpoolabout a hundred yards from his boat, but when he tried to move the boattowards it her bows ran on to something hard. 

'Keep still, keep still, keep still, ' cried thousands and thousands ofsharp, thin, little voices. 'You'll kill us if you move. '

Then he looked over the boat side, and saw that the hard something wasnothing but thousands and thousands of mussels all jammed closetogether, and through the clear water more and more were coming andpiling themselves together. Almost at once his boat was slowlylifted--the top of the mussel heap showed through the water, and therehe was, high and dry on a mussel reef. 

And in all that part of the sea the water was disappearing, and as faras the eye could reach stretched a great plain of purple and gray--theshells of countless mussels. 

Only at one spot there was still a splashing. 

Then a mussel opened its shell and spoke. 

'We've got him, ' it said. 'We've piled our selves up till we've filledthis part of the sea. The wind warned all the good fishes--and we've gotthe old traitor in a little pool over there. Get out and walk over ourbacks--we'll all lie sideways so as not to hurt you. You must catch thefish--but whatever you do don't kill it till we give the word. '

Sep promised, and he got out and walked over the mussels to the pool, and when he saw the wicked soul of the Magician looking out through theround eyes of a big finny fish he remembered all that his Princess hadsuffered, and he longed to draw his sword and kill the wicked thing thenand there. 

But he remembered his promise. He threw a net about it, and dragged itback to the boat. 

The mussels dispersed and let the boat down again into the water--and herowed home, towing the evil fish in the net by a line. 

He beached the boat, and looked along the shore. The shore looked a veryodd colour. And well it might, for every bit of the sand was coveredwith purple-gray mussels. They had all come up out of the sea--leavingjust one little bit of real yellow sand for him to beach the boat on. 

'Now, ' said millions of sharp thin little voices, 'Kill him, kill him!'

Sep drew his sword and waded into the shallow surf and killed the evilfish with one strong stroke. 

Then such a shout went up all along the shore as that shore had neverheard; and all along the shore where the mussels had been, stood men inarmour and men in smock-frocks and men in leather aprons and huntsmen'scoats and women and children--a whole nation of people. Close by theboat stood a King and Queen with crowns upon their heads. 

'Thank you, Sep, ' said the King, 'you've saved us all. I am the KingMussel, doomed to be a mussel so long as that wretch lived. You have setus all free. And look!'

Down the path from the shore came running his own Princess, who hunground his neck crying his name and looking at him with the mostbeautiful eyes in the world. 

'Come, ' said the Mussel King, 'we have no son. You shall be our son andreign after us. '

'Thank you, ' said Sep, 'but _this_ is my father, ' and he presented theold fisherman to His Majesty. 

'Then let him come with us, ' said the King royally, 'he can help mereign, or fish in the palace lake, whichever he prefers. '

'Thankee, ' said Sep's father, 'I'll come and fish. '

'Your mother too, ' said the Mussel Queen, kissing Sep's mother. 

'Ah, ' said Sep's mother, 'you're a lady, every inch. I'll go to theworld's end with you. '

So they all went back by way of the foreign country where Sep had foundhis Princess, and they called on the old lord. He had lost his hump, andthey easily persuaded him to come with them. 

'You can help me reign if you like, or we have a nice book or two in thepalace library, ' said the Mussel King. 

'Thank you, ' said the old lord, 'I'll come and be your librarian if Imay. Reigning isn't at all in my line. '

Then they went on to Sep's father-in-law, and when he saw how happy theyall were together he said:

'Bless my beard but I've half a mind to come with you. '

'Come along, ' said the Mussel King, 'you shall help me reign if youlike ... Or.... '

'No, thank you, ' said the other King very quickly, 'I've had enough ofreigning. My kingdom can buy a President and be a republic if it likes. I'm going to catch butterflies. '

And so he does, most happily, up to this very minute. 

And Sep and his dear Princess are as happy as they deserve to be. Somepeople say we are all as happy as we deserve to be--but I am not sure. 

VI

THE WHITE CAT

The White Cat lived at the back of a shelf at the darkest end of theinside attic which was nearly dark all over. It had lived there foryears, because one of its white china ears was chipped, so that it wasno longer a possible ornament for the spare bedroom. 

Tavy found it at the climax of a wicked and glorious afternoon. He hadbeen left alone. The servants were the only other people in the house. He had promised to be good. He had meant to be good. And he had notbeen. He had done everything you can think of. He had walked into theduck pond, and not a stitch of his clothes but had had to be changed. He had climbed on a hay rick and fallen off it, and had not broken hisneck, which, as cook told him, he richly deserved to do. He had found amouse in the trap and put it in the kitchen tea-pot, so that when cookwent to make tea it jumped out at her, and affected her to screamsfollowed by tears. Tavy was sorry for this, of course, and said so likea man. He had only, he explained, meant to give her a little start. Inthe confusion that followed the mouse, he had eaten all theblack-currant jam that was put out for kitchen tea, and for this too, heapologised handsomely as soon as it was pointed out to him. He hadbroken a pane of the greenhouse with a stone and.... But why pursue thepainful theme? The last thing he had done was to explore the attic, where he was never allowed to go, and to knock down the White Cat fromits shelf. 

The sound of its fall brought the servants. The cat was not broken--onlyits other ear was chipped. Tavy was put to bed. But he got out as soonas the servants had gone downstairs, crept up to the attic, secured theCat, and washed it in the bath. So that when mother came back fromLondon, Tavy, dancing impatiently at the head of the stairs, in a verywet night-gown, flung himself upon her and cried, 'I've been awfullynaughty, and I'm frightfully sorry, and please may I have the White Catfor my very own?'

He was much sorrier than he had expected to be when he saw that motherwas too tired even to want to know, as she generally did, exactly hownaughty he had been. She only kissed him, and said:

'I am sorry you've been naughty, my darling. Go back to bed now. Good-night. '

Tavy was ashamed to say anything more about the China Cat, so he wentback to bed. But he took the Cat with him, and talked to it and kissedit, and went to sleep with its smooth shiny shoulder against his cheek. 

In the days that followed, he was extravagantly good. Being good seemedas easy as being bad usually was. This may have been because motherseemed so tired and ill; and gentlemen in black coats and high hats cameto see mother, and after they had gone she used to cry. (These thingsgoing on in a house sometimes make people good; sometimes they act justthe other way. ) Or it may have been because he had the China Cat to talkto. Anyhow, whichever way it was, at the end of the week mother said:

'Tavy, you've been a dear good boy, and a great comfort to me. You musthave tried very hard to be good. '

It was difficult to say, 'No, I haven't, at least not since the firstday, ' but Tavy got it said, and was hugged for his pains. 

'You wanted, ' said mother, 'the China Cat. Well, you may have it. '

'For my very own?'

'For your very own. But you must be very careful not to break it. Andyou mustn't give it away. It goes with the house. Your Aunt Jane made mepromise to keep it in the family. It's very, very old. Don't take it outof doors for fear of accidents. '

'I love the White Cat, mother, ' said Tavy. 'I love it better'n all mytoys. '

Then mother told Tavy several things, and that night when he went to bedTavy repeated them all faithfully to the China Cat, who was about sixinches high and looked very intelligent. 

'So you see, ' he ended, 'the wicked lawyer's taken nearly all mother'smoney, and we've got to leave our own lovely big White House, and go andlive in a horrid little house with another house glued on to its side. And mother does hate it so. '

'I don't wonder, ' said the China Cat very distinctly. 

'_What!_' said Tavy, half-way into his night-shirt. 

'I said, I don't wonder, Octavius, ' said the China Cat, and rose fromher sitting position, stretched her china legs and waved her white chinatail. 

'You can speak?' said Tavy. 

'Can't you see I can?--hear I mean?' said the Cat. 'I belong to you now, so I can speak to you. I couldn't before. It wouldn't have beenmanners. '

Tavy, his night-shirt round his neck, sat down on the edge of the bedwith his mouth open. 

'Come, don't look so silly, ' said the Cat, taking a walk along the highwooden mantelpiece, 'any one would think you didn't _like_ me to talk toyou. '

'I _love_ you to, ' said Tavy recovering himself a little. 

'Well then, ' said the Cat. 

'May I touch you?' Tavy asked timidly. 

'Of course! I belong to you. Look out!' The China Cat gathered herselftogether and jumped. Tavy caught her. 

It was quite a shock to find when one stroked her that the China Cat, though alive, was still china, hard, cold, and smooth to the touch, andyet perfectly brisk and absolutely bendable as any flesh and blood cat. 

'Dear, dear white pussy, ' said Tavy, 'I do love you. '

'And I love you, ' purred the Cat, 'otherwise I should never have loweredmyself to begin a conversation. '

'I wish you were a real cat, ' said Tavy. 

'I am, ' said the Cat. 'Now how shall we amuse ourselves? I suppose youdon't care for sport--mousing, I mean?'

'I never tried, ' said Tavy, 'and I think I rather wouldn't. '

'Very well then, Octavius, ' said the Cat. 'I'll take you to the WhiteCat's Castle. Get into bed. Bed makes a good travelling carriage, especially when you haven't any other. Shut your eyes. '

Tavy did as he was told. Shut his eyes, but could not keep them shut. Heopened them a tiny, tiny chink, and sprang up. He was not in bed. He wason a couch of soft beast-skin, and the couch stood in a splendid hall, whose walls were of gold and ivory. By him stood the White Cat, nolonger china, but real live cat--and fur--as cats should be. 

'Here we are, ' she said. 'The journey didn't take long, did it? Nowwe'll have that splendid supper, out of the fairy tale, with theinvisible hands waiting on us. '

She clapped her paws--paws now as soft as white velvet--and atable-cloth floated into the room; then knives and forks and spoons andglasses, the table was laid, the dishes drifted in, and they began toeat. There happened to be every single thing Tavy liked best to eat. After supper there was music and singing, and Tavy, having kissed awhite, soft, furry forehead, went to bed in a gold four-poster with acounterpane of butterflies' wings. He awoke at home. On the mantelpiecesat the White Cat, looking as though butter would not melt in her mouth. And all her furriness had gone with her voice. She was silent--andchina. 

Tavy spoke to her. But she would not answer. Nor did she speak all day. Only at night when he was getting into bed she suddenly mewed, stretched, and said:

'Make haste, there's a play acted to-night at my castle. '

Tavy made haste, and was rewarded by another glorious evening in thecastle of the White Cat. 

And so the weeks went on. Days full of an ordinary little boy's joys andsorrows, goodnesses and badnesses. Nights spent by a little Prince inthe Magic Castle of the White Cat. 

Then came the day when Tavy's mother spoke to him, and he, very scaredand serious, told the China Cat what she had said. 

'I knew this would happen, ' said the Cat. 'It always does. So you're toleave your house next week. Well, there's only one way out of thedifficulty. Draw your sword, Tavy, and cut off my head and tail. '

'And then will you turn into a Princess, and shall I have to marry you?'Tavy asked with horror. 

'No, dear--no, ' said the Cat reassuringly. 'I sha'n't turn intoanything. But you and mother will turn into happy people. I shall justnot _be_ any more--for you. '

'Then I won't do it, ' said Tavy. 

'But you must. Come, draw your sword, like a brave fairy Prince, and cutoff my head. '

The sword hung above his bed, with the helmet and breast-plate UncleJames had given him last Christmas. 

'I'm not a fairy Prince, ' said the child. 'I'm Tavy--and I love you. '

'You love your mother better, ' said the Cat. 'Come cut my head off. Thestory always ends like that. You love mother best. It's for her sake. '

'Yes. ' Tavy was trying to think it out. 'Yes, I love mother best. But Ilove _you_. And I won't cut off your head, --no, not even for mother. '

'Then, ' said the Cat, 'I must do what I can!'

She stood up, waving her white china tail, and before Tavy could stopher she had leapt, not, as before, into his arms, but on to the widehearthstone. 

It was all over--the China Cat lay broken inside the high brass fender. The sound of the smash brought mother running. 

'What is it?' she cried. 'Oh, Tavy--the China Cat!'

'She would do it, ' sobbed Tavy. 'She wanted me to cut off her head'n Iwouldn't. '

'Don't talk nonsense, dear, ' said mother sadly. 'That only makes itworse. Pick up the pieces. '

'There's only two pieces, ' said Tavy. 'Couldn't you stick her togetheragain?'

'Why, ' said mother, holding the pieces close to the candle. 'She's beenbroken before. And mended. '

'I knew that, ' said Tavy, still sobbing. 'Oh, my dear White Cat, oh, oh, oh!' The last 'oh' was a howl of anguish. 

'Come, crying won't mend her, ' said mother. 'Look, there's another pieceof her, close to the shovel. '

Tavy stooped. 

'That's not a piece of cat, ' he said, and picked it up. 

It was a pale parchment label, tied to a key. Mother held it to thecandle and read: '_Key of the lock behind the knot in the mantelpiecepanel in the white parlour. _'

'Tavy! I wonder! But ... Where did it come from?'

'Out of my White Cat, I s'pose, ' said Tavy, his tears stopping. 'Are yougoing to see what's in the mantelpiece panel, mother? Are you? Oh, dolet me come and see too!'

'You don't deserve, ' mother began, and ended, --'Well, put yourdressing-gown on then. '

They went down the gallery past the pictures and the stuffed birds andtables with china on them and downstairs on to the white parlour. Butthey could not see any knot in the mantelpiece panel, because it was allpainted white. But mother's fingers felt softly all over it, and found around raised spot. It was a knot, sure enough. Then she scraped round itwith her scissors, till she loosened the knot, and poked it out with thescissors point. 

'I don't suppose there's any keyhole there really, ' she said. But therewas. And what is more, the key fitted. The panel swung open, and insidewas a little cupboard with two shelves. What was on the shelves? Therewere old laces and old embroideries, old jewelry and old silver; therewas money, and there were dusty old papers that Tavy thought mostuninteresting. But mother did not think them uninteresting. She laughed, and cried, or nearly cried, and said:

'Oh, Tavy, this was why the China Cat was to be taken such care of!'Then she told him how, a hundred and fifty years before, the Head of theHouse had gone out to fight for the Pretender, and had told his daughterto take the greatest care of the China Cat. 'I will send you word of thereason by a sure hand, ' he said, for they parted on the open square, where any spy might have overheard anything. And he had been killed byan ambush not ten miles from home, --and his daughter had never known. But she had kept the Cat. 

'And now it has saved us, ' said mother. 'We can stay in the dear oldhouse, and there are two other houses that will belong to us too, Ithink. And, oh, Tavy, would you like some pound-cake and ginger-wine, dear?'

Tavy did like. And had it. 

The China Cat was mended, but it was put in the glass-fronted cornercupboard in the drawing-room, because it had saved the House. 

Now I dare say you'll think this is all nonsense, and a made-up story. Not at all. If it were, how would you account for Tavy's finding, thevery next night, fast asleep on his pillow, his own white Cat--the furryfriend that the China Cat used to turn into every evening--the dearhostess who had amused him so well in the White Cat's fairy Palace?

It was she, beyond a doubt, and that was why Tavy didn't mind a bitabout the China Cat being taken from him and kept under glass. You maythink that it was just any old stray white cat that had come in byaccident. Tavy knows better. It has the very same tender tone in itspurr that the magic White Cat had. It will not talk to Tavy, it is true;but Tavy can and does talk to it. But the thing that makes it perfectlycertain that it is the White Cat is that the tips of its two ears aremissing--just as the China Cat's ears were. If you say that it mighthave lost its ear-tips in battle you are the kind of person who always_makes_ difficulties, and you may be quite sure that the kind ofsplendid magics that happened to Tavy will never happen to _you_. 

VII

BELINDA AND BELLAMANT; OR THE BELLS OF CARRILLON-LAND

There is a certain country where a king is never allowed to reign whilea queen can be found. They like queens much better than kings in thatcountry. I can't think why. If some one has tried to teach you a littlehistory, you will perhaps think that this is the Salic law. But itisn't. In the biggest city of that odd country there is a greatbell-tower (higher than the clock-tower of the Houses of Parliament, where they put M. P. 's who forget their manners). This bell-tower hadseven bells in it, very sweet-toned splendid bells, made expressly toring on the joyful occasions when a princess was born who would be queensome day. And the great tower was built expressly for the bells to ringin. So you see what a lot they thought of queens in that country. Now inall the bells there are bell-people--it is their voices that you hearwhen the bells ring. All that about its being the clapper of the bell ismere nonsense, and would hardly deceive a child. I don't know why peoplesay such things. Most Bell-people are very energetic busy folk, who lovethe sound of their own voices, and hate being idle, and when nearly twohundred years had gone by, and no princesses had been born, they gottired of living in bells that were never rung. So they slipped out ofthe belfry one fine frosty night, and left the big beautiful bellsempty, and went off to find other homes. One of them went to live in adinner-bell, and one in a school-bell, and the rest all foundhomes--they did not mind where--just anywhere, in fact, where they couldfind any Bell-person kind enough to give them board and lodging. Andevery one was surprised at the increased loudness in the voices of thesehospitable bells. For, of course, the Bell-people from the belfry didtheir best to help in the housework as polite guests should, and alwaysadded their voices to those of their hosts on all occasions whenbell-talk was called for. And the seven big beautiful bells in thebelfry were left hollow and dark and quite empty, except for theclappers who did not care about the comforts of a home. 

Now of course a good house does not remain empty long, especially whenthere is no rent to pay, and in a very short time the seven bells allhad tenants, and they were all the kind of folk that no respectableBell-people would care to be acquainted with. 

They had been turned out of other bells--cracked bells and broken bells, the bells of horses that had been lost in snowstorms or of ships thathad gone down at sea. They hated work, and they were a glum, silent, disagreeable people, but as far as they could be pleased about anythingthey were pleased to live in bells that were never rung, in houses wherethere was nothing to do. They sat hunched up under the black domes oftheir houses, dressed in darkness and cobwebs, and their only pleasurewas idleness, their only feasts the thick dusty silence that lies heavyin all belfries where the bells never ring. They hardly ever spoke evento each other, and in the whispers that good Bell-people talk in amongthemselves, and that no one can hear but the bat whose ear for music isvery fine and who has himself a particularly high voice, and when theydid speak they quarrelled. 

And when at last the bells _were_ rung for the birth of a Princess thewicked Bell-people were furious. Of course they had to _ring_--a bellcan't help that when the rope is pulled--but their voices were so uglythat people were quite shocked. 

'What poor taste our ancestors must have had, ' they said, 'to thinkthese were good bells!'

(You remember the bells had not rung for nearly two hundred years. )

'Dear me, ' said the King to the Queen, 'what odd ideas people had in theold days. I always understood that these bells had beautiful voices. '

'They're quite hideous, ' said the Queen. And so they were. Now thatnight the lazy Bell-folk came down out of the belfry full of angeragainst the Princess whose birth had disturbed their idleness. There isno anger like that of a lazy person who is made to work against hiswill. 

And they crept out of the dark domes of their houses and came down intheir dust dresses and cobweb cloaks, and crept up to the palace whereevery one had gone to bed long before, and stood round themother-of-pearl cradle where the baby princess lay asleep. And theyreached their seven dark right hands out across the white satincoverlet, and the oldest and hoarsest and laziest said:

'She shall grow uglier every day, except Sundays, and every Sunday sheshall be seven times prettier than the Sunday before. '

'Why not uglier every day, and a double dose on Sunday?' asked theyoungest and spitefullest of the wicked Bell-people. 

'Because there's no rule without an exception, ' said the eldest andhoarsest and laziest, 'and she'll feel it all the more if she's prettyonce a week. And, ' he added, 'this shall go on till she finds a bellthat doesn't ring, and can't ring, and never will ring, and wasn't madeto ring. '

'Why not for ever?' asked the young and spiteful. 

'Nothing goes on for ever, ' said the eldest Bell-person, 'not evenill-luck. And we have to leave her a way out. It doesn't matter. She'llnever know what it is. Let alone finding it. '

Then they went back to the belfry and rearranged as well as they couldthe comfortable web-and-owls' nest furniture of their houses which hadall been shaken up and disarranged by that absurd ringing of bells atthe birth of a Princess that nobody could really be pleased about. 

When the Princess was two weeks old the King said to the Queen:

'My love--the Princess is not so handsome as I thought she was. '

'Nonsense, Henry, ' said the Queen, 'the light's not good, that's all. '

Next day--it was Sunday--the King pulled back the lace curtains of thecradle and said:

'The light's good enough now--and you see she's----'

He stopped. 

'It _must_ have been the light, ' he said, 'she looks all right to-day. '

'Of course she does, a precious, ' said the Queen. 

But on Monday morning His Majesty was quite sure really that thePrincess was rather plain, for a Princess. And when Sunday came, and thePrincess had on her best robe and the cap with the little white ribbonsin the frill, he rubbed his nose and said there was no doubt dress didmake a great deal of difference. For the Princess was now as pretty as anew daisy. 

The Princess was several years old before her mother could be got to seethat it really was better for the child to wear plain clothes and a veilon week days. On Sundays, of course she could wear her best frock and aclean crown just like anybody else. 

Of course nobody ever told the Princess how ugly she was. She wore aveil on week-days, and so did every one else in the palace, and she wasnever allowed to look in the glass except on Sundays, so that she had noidea that she was not as pretty all the week as she was on the first dayof it. She grew up therefore quite contented. But the parents were indespair. 

'Because, ' said King Henry, 'it's high time she was married. We ought tochoose a king to rule the realm--I have always looked forward to hermarrying at twenty-one--and to our retiring on a modest competence tosome nice little place in the country where we could have a few pigs. '

'And a cow, ' said the Queen, wiping her eyes. 

'And a pony and trap, ' said the King. 

'And hens, ' said the Queen, 'yes. And now it can never, never be. Lookat the child! I just ask you! Look at her!'

'_No_, ' said the King firmly, 'I haven't done that since she was ten, except on Sundays. '

'Couldn't we get a prince to agree to a "Sundays only" marriage--not lethim see her during the week?'

'Such an unusual arrangement, ' said the King, 'would involve veryawkward explanations, and I can't think of any except the true ones, which would be quite impossible to give. You see, we should want afirst-class prince, and no really high-toned Highness would take a wifeon those terms. '

'It's a thoroughly comfortable kingdom, ' said the Queen doubtfully. 'Theyoung man would be handsomely provided for for life. '

'I couldn't marry Belinda to a time-server or a place-worshipper, ' saidthe King decidedly. 

Meanwhile the Princess had taken the matter into her own hands. She hadfallen in love. 

You know, of course, that a handsome book is sent out every year to allthe kings who have daughters to marry. It is rather like the illustratedcatalogues of Liberty's or Peter Robinson's, only instead ofillustrations showing furniture or ladies' cloaks and dresses, thepictures are all of princes who are of an age to be married, and arelooking out for suitable wives. The book is called the 'Royal MatchCatalogue Illustrated, '--and besides the pictures of the princes it haslittle printed bits about their incomes, accomplishments, prospects, andtempers, and relations. 

Now the Princess saw this book--which is never shown to princesses, butonly to their parents--it was carelessly left lying on the round tablein the parlour. She looked all through it, and she hated each princemore than the one before till she came to the very end, and on the lastpage of all, screwed away in a corner, was the picture of a prince whowas quite as good-looking as a prince has any call to be. 

'I like _you_, ' said Belinda softly. Then she read the little bit ofprint underneath. 

_Prince Bellamant, aged twenty-four. Wants Princess who doesn't objectto a christening curse. Nature of curse only revealed in the strictestconfidence. Good tempered. Comfortably off. Quiet habits. No relations. _

'Poor dear, ' said the Princess. 'I wonder what the curse is! I'm sure_I_ shouldn't mind!'

The blue dusk of evening was deepening in the garden outside. ThePrincess rang for the lamp and went to draw the curtain. There was arustle and a faint high squeak--and something black flopped on to thefloor and fluttered there. 

'Oh--it's a bat, ' cried the Princess, as the lamp came in. 'I don't likebats. '

'Let me fetch a dust-pan and brush and sweep the nasty thing away, ' saidthe parlourmaid. 

'No, no, ' said Belinda, 'it's hurt, poor dear, ' and though she hatedbats she picked it up. It was horribly cold to touch, one wing draggedloosely. 'You can go, Jane, ' said the Princess to the parlourmaid. 

Then she got a big velvet-covered box that had had chocolate in it, andput some cotton wool in it and said to the Bat--

'You poor dear, is that comfortable?' and the Bat said:

'Quite, thanks. '

'Good gracious, ' said the Princess jumping. 'I didn't know bats couldtalk. '

'Every one can talk, ' said the Bat, 'but not every one can hear otherpeople talking. You have a fine ear as well as a fine heart. '

'Will your wing ever get well?' asked the Princess. 

'I hope so, ' said the Bat. 'But let's talk about you. Do you know why youwear a veil every day except Sundays?'

'Doesn't everybody?' asked Belinda. 

'Only here in the palace, ' said the Bat, 'that's on your account. '

'But why?' asked the Princess. 

'Look in the glass and you'll know. '

'But it's wicked to look in the glass except on Sundays--and besidesthey're all put away, ' said the Princess. 

'If I were you, ' said the Bat, 'I should go up into the attic where theyoungest kitchenmaid sleeps. Feel between the thatch and the wall justabove her pillow, and you'll find a little round looking-glass. But comeback here before you look at it. '

The Princess did exactly what the Bat told her to do, and when she hadcome back into the parlour and shut the door she looked in the littleround glass that the youngest kitchen-maid's sweetheart had given her. And when she saw her ugly, ugly, ugly face--for you must remember shehad been growing uglier every day since she was born--she screamed andthen she said:

'That's not me, it's a horrid picture. '

'It _is_ you, though, ' said the Bat firmly but kindly; 'and now you seewhy you wear a veil all the week--and only look in the glass on Sunday. '

'But why, ' asked the Princess in tears, 'why don't I look like that inthe Sunday looking-glasses?'

'Because you aren't like that on Sundays, ' the Bat replied. 'Come, ' itwent on, 'stop crying. I didn't tell you the dread secret of yourugliness just to make you cry--but because I know the way for you to beas pretty all the week as you are on Sundays, and since you've been sokind to me I'll tell you. Sit down close beside me, it fatigues me tospeak loud. '

The Princess did, and listened through her veil and her tears, while theBat told her all that I began this story by telling you. 

'My great-great-great-great-grandfather heard the tale years ago, ' hesaid, 'up in the dark, dusty, beautiful, comfortable, cobwebby belfry, and I have heard scraps of it myself when the evil Bell-people werequarrelling, or talking in their sleep, lazy things!'

'It's very good of you to tell me all this, ' said Belinda, 'but what amI to do?'

'You must find the bell that doesn't ring, and can't ring, and neverwill ring, and wasn't made to ring. '

'If I were a prince, ' said the Princess, 'I could go out and seek myfortune. '

'Princesses have fortunes as well as princes, ' said the Bat. 

'But father and mother would never let me go and look for mine. '

'Think!' said the Bat, 'perhaps you'll find a way. '

So Belinda thought and thought. And at last she got the book that hadthe portraits of eligible princes in it, and she wrote to the prince whohad the christening curse--and this is what she said:

 'Princess Belinda of Carrillon-land is not afraid of christening curses. If Prince Bellamant would like to marry her he had better apply to her Royal Father in the usual way. 

 '_P. S. _--I have seen your portrait. '

When the Prince got this letter he was very pleased, and wrote at oncefor Princess Belinda's likeness. Of course they sent him a picture ofher Sunday face, which was the most beautiful face in the world. As soonas he saw it he knew that this was not only the most beautiful face inthe world, but the dearest, so he wrote to her father by the nextpost--applying for her hand in the usual way and enclosing the mostrespectable references. The King told the Princess. 

'Come, ' said he, 'what do you say to this young man?'

And the Princess, of course, said, 'Yes, please. '

So the wedding-day was fixed for the first Sunday in June. 

But when the Prince arrived with all his glorious following of courtiersand men-at-arms, with two pink peacocks and a crown-case full ofdiamonds for his bride, he absolutely refused to be married on a Sunday. Nor would he give any reason for his refusal. And then the King lost histemper and broke off the match, and the Prince went away. 

But he did not go very far. That night he bribed a page-boy to show himwhich was the Princess's room, and he climbed up by the jasmine throughthe dark rose-scented night, and tapped at the window. 

'Who's dhere?' said the Princess inside in the dark. 

'Me, ' said the Prince in the dark outside. 

'Thed id wasnd't true?' said the Princess. 'They toad be you'd riddedaway. '

'What a cold you've got, my Princess, ' said the Prince hanging on by thejasmine boughs. 

'It's not a cold, ' sniffed the Princess. 

'Then ... Oh you dear ... Were you crying because you thought I'd gone?'he said. 

'I suppose so, ' said she. 

He said, 'You dear!' again, and kissed her hands. 

'_Why_ wouldn't you be married on a Sunday?' she asked. 

'It's the curse, dearest, ' he explained, 'I couldn't tell any one butyou. The fact is Malevola wasn't asked to my christening so she doomedme to be ... Well, she said "moderately good-looking all the week, andtoo ugly for words on Sundays. " So you see! You _will_ be married on aweek-day, won't you?'

'But I can't, ' said the Princess, 'because I've got a curse too--onlyI'm ugly all the week and pretty on Sundays. '

'How extremely tiresome, ' said the Prince, 'but can't you be cured?'

'Oh yes, ' said the Princess, and told him how. 'And you, ' she asked, 'isyours quite incurable?'

'Not at all, ' he answered, 'I've only got to stay under water for fiveminutes and the spell will be broken. But you see, beloved, thedifficulty is that I can't do it. I've practised regularly, from a boy, in the sea, and in the swimming bath, and even in my wash-handbasin--hours at a time I've practised--but I never can keep under morethan two minutes. '

'Oh dear, ' said the Princess, 'this is dreadful. '

'It is rather trying, ' the Prince answered. 

'You're sure you like me, ' she asked suddenly, 'now you know that I'monly pretty once a week?'

'I'd die for you, ' said he. 

'Then I'll tell you what. Send all your courtiers away, and take asituation as under-gardener here--I know we want one. And then everynight I'll climb down the jasmine and we'll go out together and seek ourfortune. I'm sure we shall find it. '

And they did go out. The very next night, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. And they did not find theirfortunes, but they got fonder and fonder of each other. They could notsee each other's faces, but they held hands as they went along throughthe dark. 

And on the seventh night, as they passed by a house that showed chinksof light through its shutters, they heard a bell being rung outside forsupper, a bell with a very loud and beautiful voice. But instead ofsaying--

'Supper's ready, ' as any one would have expected, the bell was saying--

 Ding dong dell! _I_ could tell Where you ought to go To break the spell. 

Then some one left off ringing the bell, so of course it couldn't sayany more. So the two went on. A little way down the road a cow-belltinkled behind the wet hedge of the lane. And it said--not, 'Here I am, quite safe, ' as a cow-bell should, but--

 Ding dong dell All will be well If you... 

Then the cow stopped walking and began to eat, so the bell couldn't sayany more. The Prince and Princess went on, and you will not be surprisedto hear that they heard the voices of five more bells that night. Thenext was a school-bell. The schoolmaster's little boy thought it wouldbe fun to ring it very late at night--but his father came and caught himbefore the bell could say any more than--

 Ding a dong dell You can break up the spell By taking... 

So that was no good. 

Then there were the three bells that were the sign over the door of aninn where people were happily dancing to a fiddle, because there was awedding. These bells said:

 We are the Merry three Bells, bells, bells. You are two To undo Spells, spells, spells... 

Then the wind who was swinging the bells suddenly thought of anappointment he had made with a pine forest, to get up an entertainingimitation of sea-waves for the benefit of the forest nymphs who hadnever been to the seaside, and he went off--so, of course, the bellscouldn't ring any more, and the Prince and Princess went on down thedark road. 

There was a cottage and the Princess pulled her veil closely over herface, for yellow light streamed from its open door--and it was aWednesday. 

Inside a little boy was sitting on the floor--quite a little boy--heought to have been in bed long before, and I don't know why he wasn't. And he was ringing a little tinkling bell that had dropped off a sleigh. 

And this little bell said:

 Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, I'm a little sleigh-bell, But I know what I know, and I'll tell, tell, tell. Find the Enchanter of the Ringing Well, He will show you how to break the spell, spell, spell. Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, I'm a little sleigh-bell, But I know what I know.... 

And so on, over and over, again and again, because the little boy wasquite contented to go on shaking his sleigh-bell for ever and ever. 

'So now we know, ' said the Prince, 'isn't that glorious?'

'Yes, very, but where's the Enchanter of the Ringing Well?' said thePrincess doubtfully. 

'Oh, I've got _his_ address in my pocket-book, ' said the Prince. 'He'smy god-father. He was one of the references I gave your father. '

So the next night the Prince brought a horse to the garden, and he andthe Princess mounted, and rode, and rode, and rode, and in the grey dawnthey came to Wonderwood, and in the very middle of that the Magician'sPalace stands. 

The Princess did not like to call on a perfect stranger so very early inthe morning, so they decided to wait a little and look about them. 

The castle was very beautiful, decorated with a conventional design ofbells and bell ropes, carved in white stone. 

Luxuriant plants of American bell-vine covered the drawbridge andportcullis. On a green lawn in front of the castle was a well, with acurious bell-shaped covering suspended over it. The lovers leaned overthe mossy fern-grown wall of the well, and, looking down, they could seethat the narrowness of the well only lasted for a few feet, and belowthat it spread into a cavern where water lay in a big pool. 

'What cheer?' said a pleasant voice behind them. It was the Enchanter, an early riser, like Darwin was, and all other great scientific men. 

They told him what cheer. 

'But, ' Prince Bellamant ended, 'it's really no use. I can't keep underwater more than two minutes however much I try. And my preciousBelinda's not likely to find any silly old bell that doesn't ring, andcan't ring, and never will ring, and was never made to ring. '

'Ho, ho, ' laughed the Enchanter with the soft full laughter of old age. 'You've come to the right shop. Who told you?'

'The bells, ' said Belinda. 

'Ah, yes. ' The old man frowned kindly upon them. 'You must be very fondof each other?'

'We are, ' said the two together. 

'Yes, ' the Enchanter answered, 'because only true lovers can hear thetrue speech of the bells, and then only when they're together. Well, there's the bell!'

He pointed to the covering of the well, went forward, and touched somelever or spring. The covering swung out from above the well, and hungover the grass grey with the dew of dawn. 

'_That?_' said Bellamant. 

'That, ' said his god-father. 'It doesn't ring, and it can't ring, and itnever will ring, and it was never made to ring. Get into it. '

'Eh?' said Bellamant forgetting his manners. 

The old man took a hand of each and led them under the bell. 

They looked up. It had windows of thick glass, and high seats aboutfour feet from its edge, running all round inside. 

'Take your seats, ' said the Enchanter. 

Bellamant lifted his Princess to the bench and leaped up beside her. 

'Now, ' said the old man, 'sit still, hold each other's hands, and foryour lives don't move. '

He went away, and next moment they felt the bell swing in the air. Itswung round till once more it was over the well, and then it went down, down, down. 

'I'm not afraid, with you, ' said Belinda, because she was, dreadfully. 

Down went the bell. The glass windows leaped into light, looking throughthem the two could see blurred glories of lamps in the side of the cave, magic lamps, or perhaps merely electric, which, curiously enough haveceased to seem magic to us nowadays. Then with a plop the lower edge ofthe bell met the water, the water rose inside it, a little, then not anymore. And the bell went down, down, and above their heads the greenwater lapped against the windows of the bell. 

'You're under water--if we stay five minutes, ' Belinda whispered. 

'Yes, dear, ' said Bellamant, and pulled out his ruby-studdedchronometer. 

'It's five minutes for you, but oh!' cried Belinda, 'it's _now_ for me. For I've found the bell that doesn't ring, and can't ring, and neverwill ring, and wasn't made to ring. Oh Bellamant dearest, it's Thursday. _Have_ I got my Sunday face?'

She tore away her veil, and his eyes, fixed upon her face, could notleave it. 

'Oh dream of all the world's delight, ' he murmured, 'how beautiful youare. '

Neither spoke again till a sudden little shock told them that the bellwas moving up again. 

'Nonsense, ' said Bellamant, 'it's not five minutes. '

But when they looked at the ruby-studded chronometer, it was nearlythree-quarters of an hour. But then, of course, the well was enchanted!

'Magic? Nonsense, ' said the old man when they hung about him with thanksand pretty words. 'It's only a diving-bell. My own invention. '

 * * * * *

So they went home and were married, and the Princess did not wear a veilat the wedding. She said she had had enough veils to last her time. 

 * * * * *

And a year and a day after that a little daughter was born to them. 

'Now sweetheart, ' said King Bellamant--he was king now because the oldking and queen had retired from the business, and were keeping pigs andhens in the country as they had always planned to do--'dear sweetheartand life's love, I am going to ring the bells with my own hands, to showhow glad I am for you, and for the child, and for our good lifetogether. '

So he went out. It was very dark, because the baby princess had chosento be born at midnight. 

The King went out to the belfry, that stood in the great, bare, quiet, moonlit square, and he opened the door. The furry-pussy bell-ropes, likehuge caterpillars, hung on the first loft. The King began to climb thecurly-wurly stone stair. And as he went up he heard a noise, thestrangest noises, stamping and rustling and deep breathings. 

He stood still in the ringers' loft where the pussy-furry caterpillarybell-robes hung, and from the belfry above he heard the noise of strongfighting, and mixed with it the sound of voices angry and desperate, butwith a noble note that thrilled the soul of the hearer like the sound ofthe trumpet in battle. And the voices cried:

 Down, down--away, away, When good has come ill may not stay, Out, out, into the night, The belfry bells are ours by right!

And the words broke and joined again, like water when it flows againstthe piers of a bridge. 'Down, down----. ' 'Ill may not stay----. ' 'Goodhas come----. ' 'Away, away----. ' And the joining came like the sound ofthe river that flows free again. 

 Out, out, into the night, The belfry bells are ours by right!

And then, as King Bellamant stood there, thrilled and yet, as it were, turned to stone, by the magic of this conflict that raged above him, there came a sweeping rush down the belfry ladder. The lantern hecarried showed him a rout of little, dark, evil people, clothed in dustand cobwebs, that scurried down the wooden steps gnashing their teethand growling in the bitterness of a deserved defeat. They passed andthere was silence. Then the King flew from rope to rope pulling lustily, and from above, the bells answered in their own clear beautifulvoices--because the good Bell-folk had driven out the usurpers and hadcome to their own again. 

 Ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring-a-ring! Ring, bell! A little baby comes on earth to dwell. Ring, bell! Sound, bell! Sound! Swell! Ring for joy and wish her well! May her life tell No tale of ill-spell! Ring, bell! Joy, bell! Love, bell! Ring!

 * * * * *

'But I don't see, ' said King Bellamant, when he had told Queen Belindaall about it, 'how it was that I came to hear them. The Enchanter of theRinging Well said that only lovers could hear what the bells had to say, and then only when they were together. '

'You silly dear boy, ' said Queen Belinda, cuddling the baby princessclose under her chin, 'we _are_ lovers, aren't we? And you don't supposeI wasn't with you when you went to ring the bells for our baby--my heartand soul anyway--all of me that matters!'

'Yes, ' said the King, 'of course you were. That accounts!'

VIII

JUSTNOWLAND

'Auntie! No, no, no! I will be good. Oh, I will!' The little weak voicecame from the other side of the locked attic door. 

'You should have thought of that before, ' said the strong, sharp voiceoutside. 

'I didn't mean to be naughty. I didn't, truly. '

'It's not what you mean, miss, it's what you do. I'll teach you not tomean, my lady. '

The bitter irony of the last words dried the child's tears. 'Very well, then, ' she screamed, 'I won't be good; I won't try to be good. I thoughtyou'd like your nasty old garden weeded. I only did it to please you. How was I to know it was turnips? It looked just like weeds. ' Then camea pause, then another shriek. 'Oh, Auntie, don't! Oh, let me out--let meout!'

'I'll not let you out till I've broken your spirit, my girl; you mayrely on that. '

The sharp voice stopped abruptly on a high note; determined feet instrong boots sounded on the stairs--fainter, fainter; a door slammedbelow with a dreadful definiteness, and Elsie was left alone, to wonderhow soon her spirit would break--for at no less a price, it appeared, could freedom be bought. 

The outlook seemed hopeless. The martyrs and heroines, with whom Elsieusually identified herself, _their_ spirit had never been broken; notchains nor the rack nor the fiery stake itself had even weakened them. Imprisonment in an attic would to them have been luxury compared withthe boiling oil and the smoking faggots and all the intimate crueltiesof mysterious instruments of steel and leather, in cold dungeons, litonly by the dull flare of torches and the bright, watchful eyes ofinquisitors. 

A month in the house of 'Auntie' self-styled, and really only anunrelated Mrs. Staines, paid to take care of the child, had held but oneinterest--Foxe's Book of Martyrs. It was a horrible book--the thickoleographs, their guarding sheets of tissue paper sticking to the printslike bandages to a wound.... Elsie knew all about wounds: she had hadone herself. Only a scalded hand, it is true, but a wound is a wound, all the world over. It was a book that made you afraid to go to bed; butit was a book you could not help reading. And now it seemed as though itmight at last help, and not merely sicken and terrify. But the help wasfrail, and broke almost instantly on the thought--'_They_ were bravebecause they were good: how can I be brave when there's nothing to bebrave about except me not knowing the difference between turnips andweeds?'

She sank down, a huddled black bunch on the bare attic floor, and calledwildly to some one who could not answer her. Her frock was black becausethe one who always used to answer could not answer any more. And herfather was in India, where you cannot answer, or even hear, your littlegirl, however much she cries in England. 

'I won't cry, ' said Elsie, sobbing as violently as ever. 'I can bebrave, even if I'm not a saint but only a turnip-mistaker. I'll be aBastille prisoner, and tame a mouse!' She dried her eyes, though thebosom of the black frock still heaved like the sea after a storm, andlooked about for a mouse to tame. One could not begin too soon. Butunfortunately there seemed to be no mouse at liberty just then. Therewere mouse-holes right enough, all round the wainscot, and in the broad, time-worn boards of the old floor. But never a mouse. 

'Mouse, mouse!' Elsie called softly. 'Mousie, mousie, come and betamed!'

Not a mouse replied. 

The attic was perfectly empty and dreadfully clean. The other attic, Elsie knew, had lots of interesting things in it--old furniture andsaddles, and sacks of seed potatoes, --but in this attic nothing. Not somuch as a bit of string on the floor that one could make knots in, ortwist round one's finger till it made the red ridges that are sointeresting to look at afterwards; not even a piece of paper in thedraughty, cold fireplace that one could make paper boats of, or prickletters in with a pin or the tag of one's shoe-laces. 

As she stooped to see whether under the grate some old match-box or bitof twig might have escaped the broom, she saw suddenly what she hadwanted most--a mouse. It was lying on its side. She put out her handvery slowly and gently, and whispered in her softest tones, 'Wake up, Mousie, wake up, and come and be tamed. ' But the mouse never moved. Andwhen she took it in her hand it was cold. 

'Oh, ' she moaned, 'you're dead, and now I can never tame you'; and shesat on the cold hearth and cried again, with the dead mouse in her lap. 

'Don't cry, ' said somebody. 'I'll find you something to tame--if youreally want it. '

Elsie started and saw the head of a black bird peering at her throughthe square opening that leads to the chimney. The edges of him lookedragged and rainbow-coloured, but that was because she saw him throughtears. To a tearless eye he was black and very smooth and sleek. 

'Oh!' she said, and nothing more. 

'Quite so, ' said the bird politely. 'You are surprised to hear me speak, but your surprise will be, of course, much less when I tell you that Iam really a Prime Minister condemned by an Enchanter to wear the form ofa crow till ... Till I can get rid of it. '

'Oh!' said Elsie. 

'Yes, indeed, ' said the Crow, and suddenly grew smaller till he couldcome comfortably through the square opening. He did this, perched on thetop bar, and hopped to the floor. And there he got bigger and bigger, and bigger and bigger and bigger. Elsie had scrambled to her feet, andthen a black little girl of eight and of the usual size stood face toface with a crow as big as a man, and no doubt as old. She found wordsthen. 

'Oh, don't!' she cried. 'Don't get any bigger. I can't bear it. '

'_I_ can't _do_ it, ' said the Crow kindly, 'so that's all right. Ithought you'd better get used to seeing rather large crows before I takeyou to Crownowland. We are all life-size there. '

'But a crow's life-size isn't a man's life-size, ' Elsie managed to say. 

'Oh yes, it is--when it's an enchanted Crow, ' the bird replied. 'Thatmakes all the difference. Now you were saying you wanted to tamesomething. If you'll come with me to Crownowland I'll show you somethingworth taming. '

'Is Crow-what's-its-name a nice place?' Elsie asked cautiously. She was, somehow, not so very frightened now. 

'Very, ' said the Crow. 

'Then perhaps I shall like it so much I sha'n't want to be tamingthings. '

'Oh yes, you will, when you know how much depends on it. '

'But I shouldn't like, ' said Elsie, 'to go up the chimney. This isn't mybest frock, of course, but still.... '

'Quite so, ' said the Crow. 'I only came that way for fun, and because Ican fly. You shall go in by the chief gate of the kingdom, like a lady. Do come. '

But Elsie still hesitated. 'What sort of thing is it you want me totame?' she said doubtfully. 

The enormous crow hesitated. 'A--a sort of lizard, ' it said at last. 'And if you can only tame it so that it will do what you tell it to, you'll save the whole kingdom, and we'll put up a statue to you; but notin the People's Park, unless they wish it, ' the bird added mysteriously. 

'I should like to save a kingdom, ' said Elsie, 'and I like lizards. I'veseen lots of them in India. '

'Then you'll come?' said the Crow. 

'Yes. But how do we go?'

'There are only two doors out of this world into another, ' said theCrow. 'I'll take you through the nearest. Allow me!' It put its winground her so that her face nestled against the black softness of theunder-wing feathers. It was warm and dark and sleepy there, and verycomfortable. For a moment she seemed to swim easily in a soft sea ofdreams. Then, with a little shock, she found herself standing on amarble terrace, looking out over a city far more beautiful andwonderful than she had ever seen or imagined. The great man-sized Crowwas by her side. 

'Now, ' it said, pointing with the longest of its long blackwing-feathers, 'you see this beautiful city?'

'Yes, ' said Elsie, 'of course I do. '

'Well ... I hardly like to tell you the story, ' said the Crow, 'but it'sa long time ago, and I hope you won't think the worse of us--becausewe're really very sorry. '

'If you're really sorry, ' said Elsie primly, 'of course it's all right. '

'Unfortunately it isn't, ' said the Crow. 'You see the great square downthere?'

Elsie looked down on a square of green trees, broken a little towardsthe middle. 

'Well, that's where the ... Where _it_ is--what you've got to tame, youknow. '

'But what did you do that was wrong?'

'We were unkind, ' said the Crow slowly, 'and unjust, and ungenerous. Wehad servants and workpeople doing everything for us; we had nothing todo _but_ be kind. And we weren't. '

'Dear me, ' said Elsie feebly. 

'We had several warnings, ' said the Crow. 'There was an old parchment, and it said just how you ought to behave and all that. But we didn'tcare what it said. I was Court Magician as well as Prime Minister, and Iought to have known better, but I didn't. We all wore frock-coats andhigh hats then, ' he added sadly. 

'Go on, ' said Elsie, her eyes wandering from one beautiful building toanother of the many that nestled among the trees of the city. 

'And the old parchment said that if we didn't behave well our bodieswould grow like our souls. But we didn't think so. And then all in aminute they _did_--and we were crows, and our bodies were as black asour souls. Our souls are quite white now, ' it added reassuringly. 

'But what was _the_ dreadful thing you'd done?'

'We'd been unkind to the people who worked for us--not given them enoughfood or clothes or fire, and at last we took away even their play. Therewas a big park that the people played in, and we built a wall round itand took it for ourselves, and the King was going to set a statue ofhimself up in the middle. And then before we could begin to enjoy it wewere turned into big black crows; and the working people into big whitepigeons--and _they_ can go where they like, but we have to stay heretill we've tamed the.... We never can go into the park, until we'vesettled the thing that guards it. And that thing's a big big lizard--infact ... It's a _dragon_!'

'_Oh!_' cried Elsie; but she was not as frightened as the Crow seemed toexpect. Because every now and then she had felt sure that she was reallysafe in her own bed, and that this was a dream. It was not a dream, butthe belief that it was made her very brave, and she felt quite sure thatshe could settle a dragon, if necessary--a dream dragon, that is. Andthe rest of the time she thought about Foxe's Book of Martyrs and what aheroine she now had the chance to be. 

'You want me to kill it?' she asked. 

'Oh no! To tame it, ' said the Crow. 

'We've tried all sorts of means--long whips, like people tame horseswith, and red-hot bars, such as lion-tamers use--and it's all beenperfectly useless; and there the dragon lives, and will live till someone can tame him and get him to follow them like a tame fawn, and eatout of their hand. '

'What does the dragon _like_ to eat?' Elsie asked. 

'_Crows_, ' replied the other in an uncomfortable whisper. 'At least_I've_ never known it eat anything else!'

'Am I to try to tame it _now_?' Elsie asked. 

'Oh dear no, ' said the Crow. 'We'll have a banquet in your honour, andyou shall have tea with the Princess. '

'How do you know who is a princess and who's not, if you're all crows?'Elsie cried. 

'How do you know one human being from another?' the Crow replied. 'Besides ... Come on to the Palace. '

It led her along the terrace, and down some marble steps to a smallarched door. 'The tradesmen's entrance, ' it explained. 'Excuse it--thecourtiers are crowding in by the front door. ' Then through longcorridors and passages they went, and at last into the throne-room. Manycrows stood about in respectful attitudes. On the golden throne, leaninga gloomy head upon the first joint of his right wing, the Sovereign ofCrownowland was musing dejectedly. A little girl of about Elsie's agesat on the steps of the throne nursing a handsome doll. 

'Who is the little girl?' Elsie asked. 

'_Curtsey!_ That's the Princess, ' the Prime Minister Crow whispered; andElsie made the best curtsey she could think of in such a hurry. 'Shewasn't wicked enough to be turned into a crow, or poor enough to beturned into a pigeon, so she remains a dear little girl, just as shealways was. '

The Princess dropped her doll and ran down the steps of the throne tomeet Elsie. 

'You dear!' she said. 'You've come to play with me, haven't you? Allthe little girls I used to play with have turned into crows, and theirbeaks are _so_ awkward at doll's tea-parties, and wings are no good tonurse dollies with. Let's have a doll's tea-party _now_, shall we?'

'May we?' Elsie looked at the Crow King, who nodded his head hopelessly. So, hand in hand, they went. 

I wonder whether you have ever had the run of a perfectly beautifulpalace and a nursery absolutely crammed with all the toys you ever hador wanted to have: dolls' houses, dolls' china tea-sets, rocking-horses, bricks, nine-pins, paint-boxes, conjuring tricks, pewterdinner-services, and any number of dolls--all most agreeable anddistinguished. If you have, you may perhaps be able faintly to imagineElsie's happiness. And better than all the toys was the PrincessPerdona--so gentle and kind and jolly, full of ideas for games, andsurrounded by the means for playing them. Think of it, after that bareattic, with not even a bit of string to play with, and no company butthe poor little dead mouse!

There is no room in this story to tell you of all the games they had. Ican only say that the time went by so quickly that they never noticed itgoing, and were amazed when the Crown nursemaid brought in the royaltea-tray. Tea was a beautiful meal--with pink iced cake in it. 

Now, all the time that these glorious games had been going on, and thismagnificent tea, the wisest crows of Crownowland had been holding acouncil. They had decided that there was no time like the present, andthat Elsie had better try to tame the dragon soon as late. 'But, ' theKing said, 'she mustn't run any risks. A guard of fifty stalwart crowsmust go with her, and if the dragon shows the least temper, fifty crowsmust throw themselves between her and danger, even if it cost fifty-onecrow-lives. For I myself will lead that band. Who will volunteer?'

Volunteers, to the number of some thousands, instantly stepped forward, and the Field Marshal selected fifty of the strongest crows. 

And then, in the pleasant pinkness of the sunset, Elsie was led out onto the palace steps, where the King made a speech and said what aheroine she was, and how like Joan of Arc. And the crows who hadgathered from all parts of the town cheered madly. Did you ever hearcrows cheering? It is a wonderful sound. 

Then Elsie got into a magnificent gilt coach, drawn by eight whitehorses, with a crow at the head of each horse. The Princess sat with heron the blue velvet cushions and held her hand. 

'I _know_ you'll do it, ' said she; 'you're so brave and clever, Elsie!'

And Elsie felt braver than before, although now it did not seem so likea dream. But she thought of the martyrs, and held Perdona's hand verytight. 

At the gates of the green park the Princess kissed and hugged her newfriend--her state crown, which she had put on in honour of the occasion, got pushed quite on one side in the warmth of her embrace--and Elsiestepped out of the carriage. There was a great crowd of crows round thepark gates, and every one cheered and shouted 'Speech, speech!'

Elsie got as far as 'Ladies and gentlemen--Crows, I mean, ' and then shecould not think of anything more, so she simply added, 'Please, I'mready. '

I wish you could have heard those crows cheer. 

But Elsie wouldn't have the escort. 

'It's very kind, ' she said, 'but the dragon only eats crows, and I'm nota crow, thank goodness--I mean I'm not a crow--and if I've got to bebrave I'd like to _be_ brave, and none of you to get eaten. If only someone will come with me to show me the way and then run back as hard as hecan when we get near the dragon. _Please!_'

'If only one goes _I_ shall be the one, ' said the King. And he and Elsiewent through the great gates side by side. She held the end of his wing, which was the nearest they could get to hand in hand. 

The crowd outside waited in breathless silence. Elsie and the King wenton through the winding paths of the People's Park. And by the windingpaths they came at last to the Dragon. He lay very peacefully on a greatstone slab, his enormous bat-like wings spread out on the grass and hisgoldy-green scales glittering in the pretty pink sunset light. 

'Go back!' said Elsie. 

'No, ' said the King. 

'If you don't, ' said Elsie, '_I_ won't go _on_. Seeing a crow mightrouse him to fury, or give him an appetite, or something. Do--do go!'

So he went, but not far. He hid behind a tree, and from its shelter hewatched. 

Elsie drew a long breath. Her heart was thumping under the black frock. 'Suppose, ' she thought, 'he takes me for a crow!' But she thought howyellow her hair was, and decided that the dragon would be certain tonotice that. 

'Quick march!' she said to herself, 'remember Joan of Arc, ' and walkedright up to the dragon. It never moved, but watched her suspiciously outof its bright green eyes. 

'Dragon dear!' she said in her clear little voice. 

'_Eh?_' said the dragon, in tones of extreme astonishment. 

'Dragon dear, ' she repeated, 'do you like sugar?'

'_Yes_, ' said the dragon. 

'Well, I've brought you some. You won't hurt me if I bring it to you?'

The dragon violently shook its vast head. 

'It's not much, ' said Elsie, 'but I saved it at tea-time. Four lumps. Two for each of my mugs of milk. '

She laid the sugar on the stone slab by the dragon's paw. 

It turned its head towards the sugar. The pinky sunset light fell on itsface, and Elsie saw that it was weeping! Great fat tears as big as prizepears were coursing down its wrinkled cheeks. 

'Oh, don't, ' said Elsie, '_don't_ cry! Poor dragon, what's the matter?'

'Oh!' sobbed the dragon, 'I'm only so glad you've come. I--I've been solonely. No one to love me. You _do_ love me, don't you?'

'I--I'm sure I shall when I know you better, ' said Elsie kindly. 

'Give me a kiss, dear, ' said the dragon, sniffing. 

It is no joke to kiss a dragon. But Elsie did it--somewhere on the hardgreen wrinkles of its forehead. 

'Oh, _thank_ you, ' said the dragon, brushing away its tears with the tipof its tail. 'That breaks the charm. I can move now. And I've got backall my lost wisdom. Come along--I _do_ want my tea!'

So, to the waiting crowd at the gate came Elsie and the dragon side byside. And at sight of the dragon, tamed, a great shout went up from thecrowd; and at that shout each one in the crowd turned quickly to thenext one--for it was the shout of men, and not of crows. Because at thefirst sight of the dragon, tamed, they had left off being crows for everand ever, and once again were men. 

The King came running through the gates, his royal robes held high, sothat he shouldn't trip over them, and he too was no longer a crow, but aman. 

And what did Elsie feel after being so brave? Well, she felt that shewould like to cry, and also to laugh, and she felt that she loved notonly the dragon, but every man, woman, and child in the wholeworld--even Mrs. Staines. 

She rode back to the Palace on the dragon's back. 

And as they went the crowd of citizens who had been crows met the crowdof citizens who had been pigeons, and these were poor men in poorclothes. 

It would have done you good to see how the ones who had been rich andcrows ran to meet the ones who had been pigeons and poor. 

'Come and stay at my house, brother, ' they cried to those who had nohomes. 'Brother, I have many coats, come and choose some, ' they cried tothe ragged. 'Come and feast with me!' they cried to all. And the richand the poor went off arm in arm to feast and be glad that night, andthe next day to work side by side. 'For, ' said the King, speaking withhis hand on the neck of the tamed dragon, 'our land has been calledCrownowland. But we are no longer crows. We are men: and we will be Justmen. And our country shall be called Justnowland for ever and ever. Andfor the future we shall not be rich and poor, but fellow-workers, andeach will do his best for his brothers and his own city. And your Kingshall be your servant!'

I don't know how they managed this, but no one seemed to think thatthere would be any difficulty about it when the King mentioned it; andwhen people really make up their minds to do anything, difficulties domost oddly disappear. 

Wonderful rejoicings there were. The city was hung with flags and lamps. Bands played--the performers a little out of practice, because, ofcourse, crows can't play the flute or the violin or the trombone--butthe effect was very gay indeed. Then came the time--it was quitedark--when the King rose up on his throne and spoke; and Elsie, amongall her new friends, listened with them to his words. 

'Our deliverer Elsie, ' he said, 'was brought hither by the good magic ofour Chief Mage and Prime Minister. She has removed the enchantment thatheld us; and the dragon, now that he has had his tea and recovered fromthe shock of being kindly treated, turns out to be the second strongestmagician in the world, --and he will help us and advise us, so long as weremember that we are all brothers and fellow-workers. And now comes thetime when our Elsie must return to her own place, or another go in herstead. But we cannot send back our heroine, our deliverer. ' (_Long, loudcheering. _) 'So one shall take her place. My daughter----'

The end of the sentence was lost in shouts of admiration. But Elsiestood up, small and white in her black frock, and said, 'No thank you. Perdona would simply hate it. And she doesn't know my daddy. He'll fetchme away from Mrs. Staines some day.... '

The thought of her daddy, far away in India, of the loneliness of WillowFarm, where now it would be night in that horrible bare attic where thepoor dead untameable little mouse was, nearly choked Elsie. It was sobright and light and good and kind here. And India was so far away. Hervoice stayed a moment on a broken note. 

'I--I.... ' Then she spoke firmly. 

'Thank you all so much, ' she said--'so very much. I do love you all, andit's lovely here. But, please, I'd like to go home now. '

The Prime Minister, in a silence full of love and understanding, foldedhis dark cloak round her. 

 * * * * *

It was dark in the attic. Elsie crouching alone in the blackness by thefireplace where the dead mouse had been, put out her hand to touch itscold fur. 

 * * * * *

There were wheels on the gravel outside--the knocker swungstrongly--'_Rat_-tat-tat-tat--_Tat_! _Tat_!' A pause--voices--hasty feetin strong boots sounded on the stairs, the key turned in the lock. Thedoor opened a dazzling crack, then fully, to the glare of a lampcarried by Mrs. Staines. 

'Come down at once. I'm sure you're good now, ' she said, in a greathurry and in a new honeyed voice. 

But there were other feet on the stairs--a step that Elsie knew. 'Where's my girl?' the voice she knew cried cheerfully. But under thecheerfulness Elsie heard something other and dearer. 'Where's my girl?'

After all, it takes less than a month to come from India to the house inEngland where one's heart is. 

Out of the bare attic and the darkness Elsie leapt into light, into armsshe knew. 'Oh, my daddy, my daddy!' she cried. 'How glad I am I cameback!'

IX

THE RELATED MUFF

We had never seen our cousin Sidney till that Christmas Eve, and wedidn't want to see him then, and we didn't like him when we did seehim. He was just dumped down into the middle of us by mother, at a timewhen it would have been unkind to her to say how little we wanted him. 

We knew already that there wasn't to be any proper Christmas for us, because Aunt Ellie--the one who always used to send the necklaces andcarved things from India, and remembered everybody's birthday--had comehome ill. Very ill she was, at a hotel in London, and mother had to goto her, and, of course, father was away with his ship. 

And then after we had said good-bye to mother, and told her how sorry wewere, we were left to ourselves, and told each other what a shame itwas, and no presents or anything. And then mother came suddenly back ina cab, and we all shouted 'Hooray' when we saw the cab stop, and her getout of it. And then we saw she was getting something out of the cab, andour hearts leapt up like the man's in the piece of school poetry when hebeheld a rainbow in the sky--because we thought she had remembered aboutthe presents, and the thing she was getting out of the cab was _them_. 

Of course it was not--it was Sidney, very thin and yellow, and lookingas sullen as a pig. 

We opened the front door. Mother didn't even come in. She just said, 'Here's your Cousin Sidney. Be nice to him and give him a good time, there's darlings. And don't forget he's your visitor, so be very extranice to him. '

I have sometimes thought it was the fault of what mother said about thevisitor that made what did happen happen, but I am almost sure reallythat it was the fault of us, though I did not see it at the time, andeven now I'm sure we didn't mean to be unkind. Quite the opposite. Butthe events of life are very confusing, especially when you try to thinkwhat made you do them, and whether you really meant to be naughty ornot. Quite often it is not--but it turns out just the same. 

When the cab had carried mother away--Hilda said it was like a dragoncarrying away a queen--we said, 'How do you do' to our Cousin Sidney, who replied, 'Quite well, thank you. '

And then, curiously enough, no one could think of anything more to say. 

Then Rupert--which is me--remembered that about being a visitor, and hesaid:

'Won't you come into the drawing-room?'

He did when he had taken off his gloves and overcoat. There was a firein the drawing-room, because we had been going to have games there withmother, only the telegram came about Aunt Ellie. 

So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thought of nothing tosay harder than ever. 

Hilda did say, 'How old are you?' but, of course, we knew the answer tothat. It was ten. 

And Hugh said, 'Do you like England or India best?'

And our cousin replied, 'India ever so much, thank you. '

I never felt such a duffer. It was awful. With all the millions ofinteresting things that there are to say at other times, and I couldn'tthink of one. At last I said, 'Do you like games?'

[Illustration: So we all sat on chairs in the drawing-room, and thoughtof nothing to say harder than ever. ]

And our cousin replied, 'Some games I do, ' in a tone that made me surethat the games he liked wouldn't be our kind, but some wild Indian sortthat we didn't know. 

I could see that the others were feeling just like me, and I knew wecould not go on like this till tea-time. And yet I didn't see any otherway to go on in. It was Hilda who cut the Gorgeous knot at last. Shesaid:

'Hugh, let you and I go and make a lovely surprise for Rupert andSidney. '

And before I could think of any way of stopping them without beingdownright rude to our new cousin, they had fled the scene, just like anyold conspirators. Rupert--me, I mean--was left alone with the stranger. I said:

'Is there anything you'd like to do?'

And he said, 'No, thank you. '

Then neither of us said anything for a bit--and I could hear the othersshrieking with laughter in the hall. 

I said, 'I wonder what the surprise will be like. '

He said, 'Yes, I wonder'; but I could tell from his tone that he did notwonder a bit. 

The others were yelling with laughter. Have you ever noticed how veryamused people always are when you're not there? If you're in bed--ill, or in disgrace, or anything--it always sounds like far finer jokes thanever occur when you are not out of things. 

'Do you like reading?' said I--who am Rupert--in the tones of despair. 

'Yes, ' said the cousin. 

'Then take a book, ' I said hastily, for I really could not stand itanother second, 'and you just read till the surprise is ready. I think Iought to go and help the others. I'm the eldest, you know. '

I did not wait--I suppose if you're ten you can choose a book foryourself--and I went. 

Hilda's idea was just Indians, but I thought a wigwam would be nice. Sowe made one with the hall table and the fur rugs off the floor. Ifeverything had been different, and Aunt Ellie hadn't been ill, we wereto have had turkey for dinner. The turkey's feathers were splendid forIndians, and the striped blankets off Hugh's and my beds, and allmother's beads. The hall is big like a room, and there was a fire. Theafternoon passed like a beautiful dream. When Rupert had done his ownfeathering and blanketing, as well as brown paper moccasins, he helpedthe others. The tea-bell rang before we were quite dressed. We gotLouisa to go up and tell our cousin that the surprise was ready, and weall got inside the wigwam. It was a very tight fit, with the feathersand the blankets. 

He came down the stairs very slowly, reading all the time, and when hegot to the mat at the bottom of the stairs we burst forth in all ourwar-paint from the wigwam. It upset, because Hugh and Hilda stuckbetween the table's legs, and it fell on the stone floor with quite aloud noise. The wild Indians picked themselves up out of the ruins anddid the finest war-dance I've ever seen in front of my cousin Sidney. 

He gave one little scream, and then sat down suddenly on the bottomsteps. He leaned his head against the banisters and we thought he wasadmiring the war-dance, till Eliza, who had been laughing and making asmuch noise as any one, suddenly went up to him and shook him. 

'Stop that noise, ' she said to us, 'he's gone off into a dead faint. '

He had. 

Of course we were very sorry and all that, but we never thought he'd besuch a muff as to be frightened of three Red Indians and a wigwam thathappened to upset. He was put to bed, and we had our teas. 

'I wish we hadn't, ' Hilda said. 

'So do I, ' said Hugh. 

But Rupert said, 'No one _could_ have expected a cousin of ours to be achicken-hearted duffer. He's a muff. It's bad enough to have a muff inthe house at all, and at Christmas time, too. But a related muff!'

Still the affair had cast a gloom, and we were glad when it wasbed-time. 

Next day was Christmas Day, and no presents, and nobody but the servantsto wish a Merry Christmas to. 

Our cousin Sidney came down to breakfast, and as it was Christmas DayRupert bent his proud spirit to own he was sorry about the Indians. 

Sidney said, 'It doesn't matter. I'm sorry too. Only I didn't expectit. '

We suggested two or three games, such as Parlour Cricket, NationalGallery, and Grab--but Sidney said he would rather read. So we saidwould he mind if we played out the Indian game which we had dropped, outof politeness, when he fainted. 

He said:

'I don't mind at all, now I know what it is you're up to. No, thank you, I'd rather read, ' he added, in reply to Rupert's unselfish offer todress him for the part of Sitting Bull. 

So he read _Treasure Island_, and we fought on the stairs with nocasualties except the gas globes, and then we scalped all thedolls--putting on paper scalps first because Hilda wished it--and wescalped Eliza as she passed through the hall--hers was a white scalpwith lacey stuff on it and long streamers. 

[Illustration: 'We scalped Eliza as she passed through the hall. ']

And when it was beginning to get dark we thought of flying machines. Ofcourse Sidney wouldn't play at that either, and Hilda and Hugh werecontented with paper wings--there were some rolls of rather decentyellow and pink crinkled paper that mother had bought to make lampshades of. They made wings of this, and then they played at fairies upand down the stairs, while Sidney sat at the bottom of the stairs andwent on reading _Treasure Island_. But Rupert was determined to have aflying machine, with real flipper-flappery wings, like at Hendon. So hegot two brass fire-guards out of the spare room and mother's bedroom, and covered them with newspapers fastened on with string. Then he got atea-tray and fastened it on to himself with rug-straps, and then heslipped his arms in between the string and the fire-guards, and went tothe top of the stairs and shouting, 'Look out below there! Beware FlyingMachines!' he sat down suddenly on the tray, and tobogganed gloriouslydown the stairs, flapping his fire-guard wings. It was a great success, and felt more like flying than anything he ever played at. But Hilda hadnot had time to look out thoroughly, because he did not wait any timebetween his warning and his descent. So that she was still fluttering, in the character of Queen of the Butterfly Fairies, about half-way downthe stairs when the flying machine, composed of the two guards, thetea-tray, and Rupert, started from the top of them, and she could onlyget out of the way by standing back close against the wall. Unluckilythe place where she was, was also the place where the gas was burning ina little recess. You remember we had broken the globe when we wereplaying Indians. 

Now, of course, you know what happened, because you have read _Harriettand the Matches_, and all the rest of the stories that have been writtento persuade children not to play with fire. No one was playing with firethat day, it is true, or doing anything really naughty at all--buthowever naughty we had been the thing that happened couldn't have beenmuch worse. For the flying machine as it came rushing round the curve ofthe staircase banged against the legs of Hilda. She screamed andstumbled back. Her pink paper wings went into the gas that hadn't aglobe. They flamed up, her hair frizzled, and her lace collar caughtfire. Rupert could not do anything because he was held fast in hisflying machine, and he and it were rolling painfully on the mat at thebottom of the stairs. 

[Illustration: Sidney threw the rug over her, and rolled her over andover. ]

Hilda screamed. 

I have since heard that a great yellow light fell on the pages of_Treasure Island_. 

Next moment _Treasure Island_ went spinning across the room. Sidneycaught up the fur rug that was part of the wigwam, and as Hilda, screaming horribly, and with wings not of paper but of flames, rusheddown the staircase, and stumbled over the flying machine, Sidney threwthe rug over her, and rolled her over and over on the floor. 

'Lie down!' he cried. 'Lie down! It's the only way. '

But somehow people never will lie down when their clothes are on fire, any more than they will lie still in the water if they think they aredrowning, and some one is trying to save them. It came to something verylike a fight. Hilda fought and struggled. Rupert got out of hisfire-guards and added himself and his tea-tray to the scrimmage. Hughslid down to the knob of the banisters and sat there yelling. Theservants came rushing in. 

But by that time the fire was out. And Sidney gasped out, 'It's allright. You aren't burned, Hilda, are you?'

Hilda was much too frightened to know whether she was burnt or not, butEliza looked her over, and it turned out that only her neck was a littlescorched, and a good deal of her hair frizzled off short. 

Every one stood, rather breathless and pale, and every one's face wasmuch dirtier than customary, except Hugh's, which he had, as usual, dirtied thoroughly quite early in the afternoon. Rupert felt perfectlyawful, ashamed and proud and rather sick. 'You're a regular hero, Sidney, ' he said--and it was not easy to say--'and yesterday I said youwere a related muff. And I'm jolly sorry I did. Shake hands, won't you?'

Sidney hesitated. 

'Too proud?' Rupert's feelings were hurt, and I should not wonder if hespoke rather fiercely. 

'It's--it's a little burnt, I think, ' said Sidney, 'don't be angry, ' andhe held out the left hand. 

Rupert grasped it. 

'I do beg your pardon, ' he said, 'you _are_ a hero!'

 * * * * *

Sidney's hand was bad for ever so long, but we were tremendous chumsafter that. 

It was when they'd done the hand up with scraped potato and salad oil--agreat, big, fat, wet plaster of it--that I said to him:

'I don't care if you don't like games. Let's be pals. '

And he said, 'I do like games, but I couldn't care about anything withmother so ill. I know you'll think I'm a muff, but I'm not really, onlyI do love her so. '

And with that he began to cry, and I thumped him on the back, and toldhim exactly what a beast I knew I was, to comfort him. 

When Aunt Ellie was well again we kept Christmas on the 6th of January, which used to be Christmas Day in middle-aged times. 

Father came home before New Year, and he had a silver medal made, with aflame on one side, and on the other Sidney's name, and 'For Bravery. '

If I had not been tied up in fire-guards and tea-trays perhaps I shouldhave thought of the rug and got the medal. But I do not grudge it toSidney. He deserved it. And he is not a muff. I see now that a personmight very well be frightened at finding Indians in the hall of astrange house, especially if the person had just come from the kind ofIndia where the Indians are quite a different sort, and much milder, with no feathers and wigwams and war-dances, but only dusky features andUniversity Degrees. 

X

THE AUNT AND AMABEL

It is not pleasant to be a fish out of water. To be a cat in water isnot what any one would desire. To be in a temper is uncomfortable. Andno one can fully taste the joys of life if he is in a Little LordFauntleroy suit. But by far the most uncomfortable thing to be in isdisgrace, sometimes amusingly called Coventry by the people who are notin it. 

We have all been there. It is a place where the heart sinks and aches, where familiar faces are clouded and changed, where any remark that onemay tremblingly make is received with stony silence or with theassurance that nobody wants to talk to such a naughty child. If you areonly in disgrace, and not in solitary confinement, you will creep abouta house that is like the one you have had such jolly times in, and yetas unlike it as a bad dream is to a June morning. You will long to speakto people, and be afraid to speak. You will wonder whether there isanything you can do that will change things at all. You have said youare sorry, and that has changed nothing. You will wonder whether you areto stay for ever in this desolate place, outside all hope and love andfun and happiness. And though it has happened before, and has always, inthe end, come to an end, you can never be quite sure that this time itis not going to last for ever. 

'It _is_ going to last for ever, ' said Amabel, who was eight. 'Whatshall I do? Oh whatever shall I do?'

What she _had_ done ought to have formed the subject of hermeditations. And she had done what had seemed to her all the time, andin fact still seemed, a self-sacrificing and noble act. She was stayingwith an aunt--measles or a new baby, or the painters in the house, Iforget which, the cause of her banishment. And the aunt, who was reallya great-aunt and quite old enough to know better, had been grumblingabout her head gardener to a lady who called in blue spectacles and abeady bonnet with violet flowers in it. 

'He hardly lets me have a plant for the table, ' said the aunt, 'and thatborder in front of the breakfast-room window--it's just bare earth--andI expressly ordered chrysanthemums to be planted there. He thinks ofnothing but his greenhouse. '

The beady-violet-blue-glassed lady snorted, and said she didn't knowwhat we were coming to, and she would have just half a cup, please, withnot quite so much milk, thank you very much. 

Now what would you have done? Minded your own business most likely, andnot got into trouble at all. Not so Amabel. Enthusiastically anxious todo something which should make the great-aunt see what a thoughtful, unselfish, little girl she really was (the aunt's opinion of her beingat present quite otherwise), she got up very early in the morning andtook the cutting-out scissors from the work-room table drawer and stole, 'like an errand of mercy, ' she told herself, to the greenhouse where shebusily snipped off every single flower she could find. MacFarlane was athis breakfast. Then with the points of the cutting-out scissors she madenice deep little holes in the flower-bed where the chrysanthemums oughtto have been, and struck the flowers in--chrysanthemums, geraniums, primulas, orchids, and carnations. It would be a lovely surprise forAuntie. 

Then the aunt came down to breakfast and saw the lovely surprise. Amabel's world turned upside down and inside out suddenly andsurprisingly, and there she was, in Coventry, and not even the housemaidwould speak to her. Her great-uncle, whom she passed in the hall on herway to her own room, did indeed, as he smoothed his hat, murmur, 'Sentto Coventry, eh? Never mind, it'll soon be over, ' and went off to theCity banging the front door behind him. 

He meant well, but he did not understand. 

Amabel understood, or she thought she did, and knew in her miserableheart that she was sent to Coventry for the last time, and that thistime she would stay there. 

'I don't care, ' she said quite untruly. 'I'll never try to be kind toany one again. ' And that wasn't true either. She was to spend the wholeday alone in the best bedroom, the one with the four-post bed and thered curtains and the large wardrobe with a looking-glass in it that youcould see yourself in to the very ends of your strap-shoes. 

The first thing Amabel did was to look at herself in the glass. She wasstill sniffing and sobbing, and her eyes were swimming in tears, anotherone rolled down her nose as she looked--that was very interesting. Another rolled down, and that was the last, because as soon as you getinterested in watching your tears they stop. 

Next she looked out of the window, and saw the decorated flower-bed, just as she had left it, very bright and beautiful. 

'Well, it _does_ look nice, ' she said. 'I don't care what they say. '

Then she looked round the room for something to read; there was nothing. The old-fashioned best bedrooms never did have anything. Only on thelarge dressing-table, on the left-hand side of the oval swing-glass, was one book covered in red velvet, and on it, very twistilyembroidered in yellow silk and mixed up with misleading leaves andsquiggles were the letters, A. B. C. 

'Perhaps it's a picture alphabet, ' said Mabel, and was quite pleased, though of course she was much too old to care for alphabets. Only whenone is very unhappy and very dull, anything is better than nothing. Sheopened the book. 

'Why, it's only a time-table!' she said. 'I suppose it's for people whenthey want to go away, and Auntie puts it here in case they suddenly makeup their minds to go, and feel that they can't wait another minute. Ifeel like that, only it's no good, and I expect other people do too. '

She had learned how to use the dictionary, and this seemed to go thesame way. She looked up the names of all the places she knew. --Brightonwhere she had once spent a month, Rugby where her brother was at school, and Home, which was Amberley--and she saw the times when the trains leftfor these places, and wished she could go by those trains. 

And once more she looked round the best bedroom which was her prison, and thought of the Bastille, and wished she had a toad to tame, like thepoor Viscount, or a flower to watch growing, like Picciola, and she wasvery sorry for herself, and very angry with her aunt, and very grievedat the conduct of her parents--she had expected better things fromthem--and now they had left her in this dreadful place where no oneloved her, and no one understood her. 

There seemed to be no place for toads or flowers in the best room, itwas carpeted all over even in its least noticeable corners. It hadeverything a best room ought to have--and everything was of dark shiningmahogany. The toilet-table had a set of red and gold glass things--atray, candlesticks, a ring-stand, many little pots with lids, and twobottles with stoppers. When the stoppers were taken out they smelt verystrange, something like very old scent, and something like cold creamalso very old, and something like going to the dentist's. 

I do not know whether the scent of those bottles had anything to do withwhat happened. It certainly was a very extraordinary scent. Quitedifferent from any perfume that I smell nowadays, but I remember thatwhen I was a little girl I smelt it quite often. But then there are nobest rooms now such as there used to be. The best rooms now are gay withchintz and mirrors, and there are always flowers and books, and littletables to put your teacup on, and sofas, and armchairs. And they smellof varnish and new furniture. 

When Amabel had sniffed at both bottles and looked in all the pots, which were quite clean and empty except for a pearl button and two pinsin one of them, she took up the A. B. C. Again to look for Whitby, whereher godmother lived. And it was then that she saw the extraordinary name'_Whereyouwantogoto. _' This was odd--but the name of the station fromwhich it started was still more extraordinary, for it was not Euston orCannon Street or Marylebone. 

The name of the station was '_Bigwardrobeinspareroom. _' And below thisname, really quite unusual for a station, Amabel read in small letters:

'Single fares strictly forbidden. Return tickets No Class Nuppence. Trains leave _Bigwardrobeinspareroom_ all the time. '

And under that in still smaller letters--

'_You had better go now. _'

What would you have done? Rubbed your eyes and thought you weredreaming? Well, if you had, nothing more would have happened. Nothingever does when you behave like that. Amabel was wiser. She went straightto the Big Wardrobe and turned its glass handle. 

'I expect it's only shelves and people's best hats, ' she said. But sheonly said it. People often say what they don't mean, so that if thingsturn out as they don't expect, they can say 'I told you so, ' but this ismost dishonest to one's self, and being dishonest to one's self isalmost worse than being dishonest to other people. Amabel would neverhave done it if she had been herself. But she was out of herself withanger and unhappiness. 

Of course it wasn't hats. It was, most amazingly, a crystal cave, veryoddly shaped like a railway station. It seemed to be lighted by stars, which is, of course, unusual in a booking office, and over the stationclock was a full moon. The clock had no figures, only _Now_ in shiningletters all round it, twelve times, and the _Nows_ touched, so the clockwas bound to be always right. How different from the clock you go toschool by!

A porter in white satin hurried forward to take Amabel's luggage. Herluggage was the A. B. C. Which she still held in her hand. 

'Lots of time, Miss, ' he said, grinning in a most friendly way, 'I _am_glad you're going. You _will_ enjoy yourself! What a nice little girlyou are!'

This was cheering. Amabel smiled. 

At the pigeon-hole that tickets come out of, another person, also inwhite satin, was ready with a mother-of-pearl ticket, round, like a cardcounter. 

'Here you are, Miss, ' he said with the kindest smile, 'price nothing, and refreshments free all the way. It's a pleasure, ' he added, 'to issuea ticket to a nice little lady like you. ' The train was entirely ofcrystal, too, and the cushions were of white satin. There were littlebuttons such as you have for electric bells, and on them'_Whatyouwantoeat_, ' '_Whatyouwantodrink_, ' '_Whatyouwantoread_, ' insilver letters. 

Amabel pressed all the buttons at once, and instantly felt obliged toblink. The blink over, she saw on the cushion by her side a silver traywith vanilla ice, boiled chicken and white sauce, almonds (blanched), peppermint creams, and mashed potatoes, and a long glass oflemonade--beside the tray was a book. It was Mrs. Ewing's _Bad-temperedFamily_, and it was bound in white vellum. 

There is nothing more luxurious than eating while you read--unless it bereading while you eat. Amabel did both: they are not the same thing, asyou will see if you think the matter over. 

And just as the last thrill of the last spoonful of ice died away, andthe last full stop of the _Bad-tempered Family_ met Amabel's eye, thetrain stopped, and hundreds of railway officials in white velvetshouted, '_Whereyouwantogoto!_ Get out!'

A velvety porter, who was somehow like a silkworm as well as like awedding handkerchief sachet, opened the door. 

'Now!' he said, 'come on out, Miss Amabel, unless you want to go to_Whereyoudon'twantogoto_. '

She hurried out, on to an ivory platform. 

'Not on the ivory, if you please, ' said the porter, 'the white Axminstercarpet--it's laid down expressly for you. '

Amabel walked along it and saw ahead of her a crowd, all in white. 

'What's all that?' she asked the friendly porter. 

'It's the Mayor, dear Miss Amabel, ' he said, 'with your address. '

'My address is The Old Cottage, Amberley, ' she said, 'at least it usedto be'--and found herself face to face with the Mayor. He was very likeUncle George, but he bowed low to her, which was not Uncle George'shabit, and said:

'Welcome, dear little Amabel. Please accept this admiring address fromthe Mayor and burgesses and apprentices and all the rest of it, ofWhereyouwantogoto. '

The address was in silver letters, on white silk, and it said:

'Welcome, dear Amabel. We know you meant to please your aunt. It wasvery clever of you to think of putting the greenhouse flowers in thebare flower-bed. You couldn't be expected to know that you ought to askleave before you touch other people's things. '

'Oh, but, ' said Amabel quite confused. 'I did.... '

But the band struck up, and drowned her words. The instruments of theband were all of silver, and the bandsmen's clothes of white leather. The tune they played was 'Cheero!'

Then Amabel found that she was taking part in a procession, hand in handwith the Mayor, and the band playing like mad all the time. The Mayorwas dressed entirely in cloth of silver, and as they went along he keptsaying, close to her ear. 

'You have our sympathy, you have our sympathy, ' till she felt quitegiddy. 

There was a flower show--all the flowers were white. There was aconcert--all the tunes were old ones. There was a play called _Putyourself in her place_. And there was a banquet, with Amabel in theplace of honour. 

They drank her health in white wine whey, and then through the CrystalHall of a thousand gleaming pillars, where thousands of guests, all inwhite, were met to do honour to Amabel, the shout went up--'Speech, speech!'

I cannot explain to you what had been going on in Amabel's mind. Perhapsyou know. Whatever it was it began like a very tiny butterfly in a box, that could not keep quiet, but fluttered, and fluttered, and fluttered. And when the Mayor rose and said:

'Dear Amabel, you whom we all love and understand; dear Amabel, you whowere so unjustly punished for trying to give pleasure to an unresponsiveaunt; poor, ill-used, ill-treated, innocent Amabel; blameless, sufferingAmabel, we await your words, ' that fluttering, tiresome butterfly-thinginside her seemed suddenly to swell to the size and strength of afluttering albatross, and Amabel got up from her seat of honour on thethrone of ivory and silver and pearl, and said, choking a little, andextremely red about the ears--

'Ladies and gentlemen, I don't want to make a speech, I just want tosay, "Thank you, " and to say--to say--to say.... '

She stopped, and all the white crowd cheered. 

'To say, ' she went on as the cheers died down, 'that I wasn't blameless, and innocent, and all those nice things. I ought to have thought. Andthey _were_ Auntie's flowers. But I did want to please her. It's all somixed. Oh, I wish Auntie was here!'

And instantly Auntie _was_ there, very tall and quite nice-looking, in awhite velvet dress and an ermine cloak. 

'Speech, ' cried the crowd. 'Speech from Auntie!'

Auntie stood on the step of the throne beside Amabel, and said:

'I think, perhaps, I was hasty. And I think Amabel meant to please me. But all the flowers that were meant for the winter ... Well--I wasannoyed. I'm sorry. '

'Oh, Auntie, so am I--so am I, ' cried Amabel, and the two began to hugeach other on the ivory step, while the crowd cheered like mad, and theband struck up that well-known air, 'If you only understood!'

'Oh, Auntie, ' said Amabel among hugs, 'This is such a lovely place, comeand see everything, we may, mayn't we?' she asked the Mayor. 

'The place is yours, ' he said, 'and now you can see many things thatyou couldn't see before. We are The People who Understand. And now youare one of Us. And your aunt is another. '

I must not tell you all that they saw because these things are secretsonly known to The People who Understand, and perhaps you do not yetbelong to that happy nation. And if you do, you will know without mytelling you. 

And when it grew late, and the stars were drawn down, somehow, to hangamong the trees, Amabel fell asleep in her aunt's arms beside a whitefoaming fountain on a marble terrace, where white peacocks came todrink. 

 * * * * *

She awoke on the big bed in the spare room, but her aunt's arms werestill round her. 

'Amabel, ' she was saying, 'Amabel!'

'Oh, Auntie, ' said Amabel sleepily, 'I am so sorry. It _was_ stupid ofme. And I did mean to please you. '

'It _was_ stupid of you, ' said the aunt, 'but I am sure you meant toplease me. Come down to supper. ' And Amabel has a confused recollectionof her aunt's saying that she was sorry, adding, 'Poor little Amabel. '

If the aunt really did say it, it was fine of her. And Amabel is quitesure that she did say it. 

 * * * * *

Amabel and her great-aunt are now the best of friends. But neither ofthem has ever spoken to the other of the beautiful city called'_Whereyouwantogoto. _' Amabel is too shy to be the first to mention it, and no doubt the aunt has her own reasons for not broaching the subject. 

But of course they both know that they have been there together, and itis easy to get on with people when you and they alike belong to the_Peoplewhounderstand_. 

 * * * * *

If you look in the A. B. C. That your people have you will not find'_Whereyouwantogoto. _' It is only in the red velvet bound copy thatAmabel found in her aunt's best bedroom. 

XI

KENNETH AND THE CARP

Kenneth's cousins had often stayed with him, but he had never till nowstayed with them. And you know how different everything is when you arein your own house. You are certain exactly what games the grown-upsdislike and what games they will not notice; also what sort of mischiefis looked over and what sort is not. And, being accustomed to your ownsort of grown-ups, you can always be pretty sure when you are likely tocatch it. Whereas strange houses are, in this matter of catching it, full of the most unpleasing surprises. 

You know all this. But Kenneth did not. And still less did he know whatwere the sort of things which, in his cousins' house, led todisapproval, punishment, scoldings; in short, to catching it. So thatthat business of cousin Ethel's jewel-case, which is where this storyought to begin, was really not Kenneth's fault at all. Though for atime.... But I am getting on too fast. 

Kenneth's cousins were four, --Conrad, Alison, George, and Ethel. Thethree first were natural sort of cousins somewhere near his own age, butEthel was hardly like a cousin at all, more like an aunt. Because shewas grown-up. She wore long dresses and all her hair on the top of herhead, a mass of combs and hairpins; in fact she had just had hertwenty-first birthday with iced cakes and a party and lots of presents, most of them jewelry. And that brings me again to that affair of thejewel-case, or would bring me if I were not determined to tell things intheir proper order, which is the first duty of a story-teller. 

Kenneth's home was in Kent, a wooden house among cherry orchards, andthe nearest river five miles away. That was why he looked forward insuch a very extra and excited way to his visit to his cousins. Theirhouse was very old, red brick with ivy all over it. It had a secretstaircase, only the secret was not kept any longer, and the housemaidscarried pails and brooms up and down the staircase. And the house wassurrounded by a real deep moat, with clear water in it, and long weedsand water-lilies and fish--the gold and the silver and the everydaykinds. 

[Illustration: Early next morning he tried to catch fish with severalpieces of string knotted together and a hairpin. ]

The first evening of Kenneth's visit passed uneventfully. His bedroomwindow looked over the moat, and early next morning he tried to catchfish with several pieces of string knotted together and a hairpin kindlylent to him by the parlourmaid. He did not catch any fish, partlybecause he baited the hairpin with brown windsor soap, and it washedoff. 

'Besides, fish hate soap, ' Conrad told him, 'and that hook of yourswould do for a whale perhaps. Only we don't stock our moat with whales. But I'll ask father to lend you his rod, it's a spiffing one, muchjollier than ours. And I won't tell the kids because they'd never let itdown on you. Fishing with a hairpin!'

'Thank you very much, ' said Kenneth, feeling that his cousin was a manand a brother. The kids were only two or three years younger than hewas, but that is a great deal when you are the elder; and besides, oneof the kids was a girl. 

'Alison's a bit of a sneak, ' Conrad used to say when anger overcomepoliteness and brotherly feeling. Afterwards, when the anger was goneand the other things left, he would say, 'You see she went to a beastlyschool for a bit, at Brighton, for her health. And father says they musthave bullied her. All girls are not like it, I believe. '

But her sneakish qualities, if they really existed, were generallyhidden, and she was very clever at thinking of new games, and very kindif you got into a row over anything. 

George was eight and stout. He was not a sneak, but concealment wasforeign to his nature, so he never could keep a secret unless he forgotit. Which fortunately happened quite often. 

The uncle very amiably lent Kenneth his fishing-rod, and provided realbait in the most thoughtful and generous manner. And the four childrenfished all the morning and all the afternoon. Conrad caught two roachand an eel. George caught nothing, and nothing was what the other twocaught. But it was glorious sport. And the next day there was to be apicnic. Life to Kenneth seemed full of new and delicious excitement. 

In the evening the aunt and the uncle went out to dinner, and Ethel, inher grown-up way, went with them, very grand in a blue silk dress andturquoises. So the children were left to themselves. 

You know the empty hush which settles down on a house when the grown-upshave gone out to dinner and you have the whole evening to do what youlike in. The children stood in the hall a moment after the carriagewheels had died away with the scrunching swish that the carriage wheelsalways made as they turned the corner by the lodge, where the gravel wasextra thick and soft owing to the droppings from the trees. From thekitchen came the voices of the servants, laughing and talking. 

'It's two hours at least to bedtime, ' said Alison. 'What shall we do?'Alison always began by saying 'What shall we do?' and always ended bydeciding what should be done. 'You all say what you think, ' she wenton, 'and then we'll vote about it. You first, Ken, because you're thevisitor. '

'Fishing, ' said Kenneth, because it was the only thing he could thinkof. 

'Make toffee, ' said Conrad. 

'Build a great big house with all the bricks, ' said George. 

'We can't make toffee, ' Alison explained gently but firmly, 'because youknow what the pan was like last time, and cook said, "never again, notmuch. " And it's no good building houses, Georgie, when you could be outof doors. And fishing's simply rotten when we've been at it all day. I've thought of something. '

So of course all the others said, 'What?'

'We'll have a pageant, a river pageant, on the moat. We'll all dress upand hang Chinese lanterns in the trees. I'll be the Sunflower lady thatthe Troubadour came all across the sea, because he loved her so, for, and one of you can be the Troubadour, and the others can be sailors oranything you like. '

'I shall be the Troubadour, ' said Conrad with decision. 

'I think you ought to let Kenneth because he's the visitor, ' saidGeorge, who would have liked to be it immensely himself, or anyhow didnot see why Conrad should be a troubadour if _he_ couldn't. 

Conrad said what manners required, which was:

'Oh! all right, I don't care about being the beastly Troubadour. '

'You might be the Princess's brother, ' Alison suggested. 

'Not me, ' said Conrad scornfully, 'I'll be the captain of the ship. '

'In a turban the brother would be, with the Benares cloak, and thePersian dagger out of the cabinet in the drawing-room, ' Alison went onunmoved. 

'I'll be that, ' said George. 

'No, you won't, I shall, so there, ' said Conrad. 'You can be the captainof the ship. '

(But in the end both boys were captains, because that meant being on theboat, whereas being the Princess's brother, however turbanned, onlymeant standing on the bank. And there is no rule to prevent captainswearing turbans and Persian daggers, except in the Navy where, ofcourse, it is not done. )

So then they all tore up to the attic where the dressing-up trunk was, and pulled out all the dressing-up things on to the floor. And all thetime they were dressing, Alison was telling the others what they were tosay and do. The Princess wore a white satin skirt and a red flannelblouse and a veil formed of several motor scarves of various colours. Also a wreath of pink roses off one of Ethel's old hats, and a pair ofpink satin slippers with sparkly buckles. 

Kenneth wore a blue silk dressing-jacket and a yellow sash, a lacecollar, and a towel turban. And the others divided between them aneastern dressing-gown, once the property of their grandfather, a blackspangled scarf, very holey, a pair of red and white football stockings, a Chinese coat, and two old muslin curtains, which, rolled up, madeturbans of enormous size and fierceness. 

On the landing outside cousin Ethel's open door Alison paused and said, 'I say!'

'Oh! come on, ' said Conrad, 'we haven't fixed the Chinese lanterns yet, and it's getting dark. '

'You go on, ' said Alison, 'I've just thought of something. '

The children were allowed to play in the boat so long as they didn'tloose it from its moorings. The painter was extremely long, and quitethe effect of coming home from a long voyage was produced when the threeboys pushed the boat out as far as it would go among the boughs of thebeech-tree which overhung the water, and then reappeared in the circleof red and yellow light thrown by the Chinese lanterns. 

'What ho! ashore there!' shouted the captain. 

'What ho!' said a voice from the shore which, Alison explained, wasdisguised. 

'We be three poor mariners, ' said Conrad by a happy effort of memory, 'just newly come to shore. We seek news of the Princess of Tripoli. '

'She's in her palace, ' said the disguised voice, 'wait a minute, andI'll tell her you're here. But what do you want her for? ("A poorminstrel of France") go on, Con. '

'A poor minstrel of France, ' said Conrad, '(all right! I remember, ) whohas heard of the Princess's beauty has come to lay, to lay----'

'His heart, ' said Alison. 

[Illustration: A radiant vision stepped into the circle of light. ]

'All right, I know. His heart at her something or other feet. '

'Pretty feet, ' said Alison. 'I go to tell the Princess. '

Next moment from the shadows on the bank a radiant vision stepped intothe circle of light, crying--

'Oh! Rudel, is it indeed thou? Thou art come at last. O welcome to thearms of the Princess!'

'What do I do now?' whispered Rudel (who was Kenneth) in the boat, andat the same moment Conrad and George said, as with one voice--

'My hat! Alison, won't you catch it!'

For at the end of the Princess's speech she had thrown back her veilsand revealed a blaze of splendour. She wore several necklaces, one ofseed pearls, one of topazes, and one of Australian shells, besides astring of amber and one of coral. And the front of the red flannelblouse was studded with brooches, in one at least of which diamondsgleamed. Each arm had one or two bracelets and on her clenched handsglittered as many rings as any Princess could wish to wear. 

So her brothers had some excuse for saying, 'You'll catch it. '

'No, I sha'n't. It's my look out, anyhow. Do shut up, ' said thePrincess, stamping her foot. 'Now then, Ken, go ahead. Ken, you say, "OhLady, I faint with rapture!"'

'I faint with rapture, ' said Kenneth stolidly. 'Now I land, don't I?'

He landed and stared at the jewelled hand the Princess held out. 

'At last, at last, ' she said, 'but you ought to say that, Ken. I say, Ithink I'd better be an eloping Princess, and then I can come in theboat. Rudel dies really, but that's so dull. Lead me to your ship, ohnoble stranger! for you have won the Princess, and with you I will liveand die. Give me your hand, can't you, silly, and do mind my train. '

So Kenneth led her to the boat, and with some difficulty, for the satintrain got between her feet, she managed to flounder into the punt. 

'Now you stand and bow, ' she said. 'Fair Rudel, with this ring I theewed, ' she pressed a large amethyst ring into his hand, 'remember thatthe Princess of Tripoli is yours for ever. Now let's sing _IntegerVitae_ because it's Latin. '

So they sat in the boat and sang. And presently the servants came out tolisten and admire, and at the sound of the servants' approach thePrincess veiled her shining splendour. 

'It's prettier than wot the Coventry pageant was, so it is, ' said thecook, 'but it's long past your bed times. So come on out of that theredangerous boat, there's dears. '

So then the children went to bed. And when the house was quiet again, Alison slipped down and put back Ethel's jewelry, fitting the thingsinto their cases and boxes as correctly as she could. 'Ethel won'tnotice, ' she thought, but of course Ethel did. 

So that next day each child was asked separately by Ethel's mother whohad been playing with Ethel's jewelry. And Conrad and George said theywould rather not say. This was a form they always used in that familywhen that sort of question was asked, and it meant, 'It wasn't me, and Idon't want to sneak. '

And when it came to Alison's turn, she found to her surprise and horrorthat instead of saying, 'I played with them, ' she had said, 'I wouldrather not say. '

Of course the mother thought that it was Kenneth who had had the jewelsto play with. So when it came to his turn he was not asked the samequestion as the others, but his aunt said:

'Kenneth, you are a very naughty little boy to take your cousin Ethel'sjewelry to play with. '

'I didn't, ' said Kenneth. 

'Hush! hush!' said the aunt, 'do not make your fault worse byuntruthfulness. And what have you done with the amethyst ring?'

Kenneth was just going to say that he had given it back to Alison, whenhe saw that this would be sneakish. So he said, getting hot to the ears, 'You don't suppose I've stolen your beastly ring, do you, Auntie?'

'Don't you dare to speak to me like that, ' the aunt very naturallyreplied. 'No, Kenneth, I do not think you would steal, but the ring ismissing and it must be found. '

Kenneth was furious and frightened. He stood looking down and kickingthe leg of the chair. 

'You had better look for it. You will have plenty of time, because Ishall not allow you to go to the picnic with the others. The mere takingof the jewelry was wrong, but if you had owned your fault and askedEthel's pardon, I should have overlooked it. But you have told me anuntruth and you have lost the ring. You are a very wicked child, and itwill make your dear mother very unhappy when she hears of it. That herboy should be a liar. It is worse than being a thief!'

At this Kenneth's fortitude gave way, and he lost his head. 'Oh, don't, 'he said, 'I didn't. I didn't. I didn't. Oh! don't tell mother I'm athief and a liar. Oh! Aunt Effie, please, _please_ don't. ' And with thathe began to cry. 

Any doubts Aunt Effie might have had were settled by this outbreak. Itwas now quite plain to her that Kenneth had really intended to keep thering. 

'You will remain in your room till the picnic party has started, ' theaunt went on, 'and then you must find the ring. Remember I expect it tobe found when I return. And I hope you will be in a better frame of mindand really sorry for having been so wicked. '

'Mayn't I see Alison?' was all he found to say. 

And the answer was, 'Certainly not. I cannot allow you to associate withyour cousins. You are not fit to be with honest, truthful children. '

So they all went to the picnic, and Kenneth was left alone. When theyhad gone he crept down and wandered furtively through the empty rooms, ashamed to face the servants, and feeling almost as wicked as though hehad really done something wrong. He thought about it all, over and overagain, and the more he thought the more certain he was that he _had_handed back the ring to Alison last night when the voices of theservants were first heard from the dark lawn. 

But what was the use of saying so? No one would believe him, and itwould be sneaking anyhow. Besides, perhaps he _hadn't_ handed it back toher. Or rather, perhaps he had handed it and she hadn't taken it. Perhaps it had slipped into the boat. He would go and see. 

But he did not find it in the boat, though he turned up the carpet andeven took up the boards to look. And then an extremely miserable littleboy began to search for an amethyst ring in all sorts of impossibleplaces, indoors and out. You know the hopeless way in which you look forthings that you know perfectly well you will never find, the borrowedpenknife that you dropped in the woods, for instance, or the week'spocket-money which slipped through that hole in your pocket as you wentto the village to spend it. 

The servants gave him his meals and told him to cheer up. But cheeringup and Kenneth were, for the time, strangers. People in books never caneat when they are in trouble, but I have noticed myself that if thetrouble has gone on for some hours, eating is really rather a comfort. You don't enjoy eating so much as usual, perhaps, but at any rate it issomething to do, and takes the edge off your sorrow for a short time. And cook was sorry for Kenneth and sent him up a very nice dinner and avery nice tea. Roast chicken and gooseberry pie the dinner was, and fortea there was cake with almond icing on it. 

The sun was very low when he went back wearily to have one more look inthe boat for that detestable amethyst ring. Of course it was not there. And the picnic party would be home soon. And he really did not know whathis aunt would do to him. 

'Shut me up in a dark cupboard, perhaps, ' he thought gloomily, 'or putme to bed all day to-morrow. Or give me lines to write out, thousands, and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, and thousands, of them. '

The boat, set in motion by his stepping into it, swung out to the fulllength of its rope. The sun was shining almost level across the water. It was a very still evening, and the reflections of the trees and of thehouse were as distinct as the house and the trees themselves. And thewater was unusually clear. He could see the fish swimming about, and thesand and pebbles at the bottom of the moat. How clear and quiet itlooked down there, and what fun the fishes seemed to be having. 

'I wish I was a fish, ' said Kenneth. 'Nobody punishes _them_ for takingrings they _didn't_ take. '

And then suddenly he saw the ring itself, lying calm, and quiet, andround, and shining, on the smooth sand at the bottom of the moat. 

He reached for the boat-hook and leaned over the edge of the boat tryingto get up the ring on the boat-hook's point. Then there was a splash. 

'Good gracious! I wonder what that is?' said cook in the kitchen, anddropped the saucepan with the welsh rabbit in it which she had just madefor kitchen supper. 

Kenneth had leaned out too far over the edge of the boat, the boat hadsuddenly decided to go the other way, and Kenneth had fallen into thewater. 

The first thing he felt was delicious coolness, the second that hisclothes had gone, and the next thing he noticed was that he was swimmingquite easily and comfortably under water, and that he had no troublewith his breathing, such as people who tell you not to fall into waterseem to expect you to have. Also he could see quite well, which he hadnever been able to do under water before. 

'I can't think, ' he said to himself, 'why people make so much fuss aboutyour falling into the water. I sha'n't be in a hurry to get out. I'llswim right round the moat while I'm about it. '

[Illustration: There was a splash. ]

It was a very much longer swim than he expected, and as he swam henoticed one or two things that struck him as rather odd. One was that hecouldn't see his hands. And another was that he couldn't feel his feet. And he met some enormous fishes, like great cod or halibut, they seemed. He had had no idea that there were fresh-water fish of that size. 

They towered above him more like men-o'-war than fish, and he wasrather glad to get past them. There were numbers of smaller fishes, someabout his own size, he thought. They seemed to be enjoying themselvesextremely, and he admired the clever quickness with which they dartedout of the way of the great hulking fish. 

And then suddenly he ran into something hard and very solid, and a voiceabove him said crossly:

'Now then, who are you a-shoving of? Can't you keep your eyes open, andkeep your nose out of gentlemen's shirt fronts?'

'I beg your pardon, ' said Kenneth, trying to rub his nose, and not beingable to. 'I didn't know people could talk under water, ' he added verymuch astonished to find that talking under water was as easy to him asswimming there. 

'Fish can talk under water, of course, ' said the voice, 'if they didn't, they'd never talk at all: they certainly can't talk _out_ of it. '

'But I'm not a fish, ' said Kenneth, and felt himself grin at the absurdidea. 

'Yes, you are, ' said the voice, 'of course you're a fish, ' and Kenneth, with a shiver of certainty, felt that the voice spoke the truth. He_was_ a fish. He must have become a fish at the very moment when he fellinto the water. That accounted for his not being able to see his handsor feel his feet. Because of course his hands were fins and his feetwere a tail. 

'Who are you?' he asked the voice, and his own voice trembled. 

'I'm the Doyen Carp, ' said the voice. 'You must be a very new fishindeed or you'd know that. Come up, and let's have a look at you. '

Kenneth came up and found himself face to face with an enormous fish whohad round staring eyes and a mouth that opened and shut continually. Itopened square like a kit-bag, and it shut with an extremely sour andsevere expression like that of an offended rhinoceros. 

'Yes, ' said the Carp, 'you _are_ a new fish. Who put you in?'

'I fell in, ' said Kenneth, 'out of the boat, but I'm not a fish at all, really I'm not. I'm a boy, but I don't suppose you'll believe me. '

'Why shouldn't I believe you?' asked the Carp wagging a slow fin. 'Nobody tells untruths under water. '

And if you come to think of it, no one ever does. 

'Tell me your true story, ' said the Carp very lazily. And Kenneth toldit. 

'Ah! these humans!' said the Carp when he had done. 'Always in such ahurry to think the worst of everybody!' He opened his mouth squarely andshut it contemptuously. 'You're jolly lucky, you are. Not one boy in amillion turns into a fish, let me tell you. '

'Do you mean that I've got to _go on_ being a fish?' Kenneth asked. 

'Of course you'll go on being a fish as long as you stop in the water. You couldn't live here, you know, if you weren't. '

'I might if I was an eel, ' said Kenneth, and thought himself veryclever. 

'Well, _be_ an eel then, ' said the Carp, and swam away sneering andstately. Kenneth had to swim his hardest to catch up. 

'Then if I get out of the water, shall I be a boy again?' he askedpanting. 

'Of course, silly, ' said the Carp, 'only you can't get out. '

'Oh! can't I?' said Kenneth the fish, whisked his tail and swam off. Hewent straight back to the amethyst ring, picked it up in his mouth, andswam into the shallows at the edge of the moat. Then he tried to climbup the slanting mud and on to the grassy bank, but the grass hurt hisfins horribly, and when he put his nose out of the water, the airstifled him, and he was glad to slip back again. Then he tried to jumpout of the water, but he could only jump straight up into the air, so ofcourse he fell straight down again into the water. He began to beafraid, and the thought that perhaps he was doomed to remain for ever afish was indeed a terrible one. He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldnot come out of his eyes. Perhaps there was no room for any more waterin the moat. 

The smaller fishes called to him in a friendly jolly way to come andplay with them--they were having a quite exciting game offollow-my-leader among some enormous water-lily stalks that looked liketrunks of great trees. But Kenneth had no heart for games just then. 

He swam miserably round the moat looking for the old Carp, his onlyacquaintance in this strange wet world. And at last, pushing through athick tangle of water weeds he found the great fish. 

'Now then, ' said the Carp testily, 'haven't you any better manners thanto come tearing a gentleman's bed-curtains like that?'

'I beg your pardon, ' said Kenneth Fish, 'but I know how clever you are. Do please help me. '

'What do you want now?' said the Carp, and spoke a little less crossly. 

'I want to get out. I want to go and be a boy again. '

'But you must have said you wanted to be a fish. '

'I didn't mean it, if I did. '

'You shouldn't say what you don't mean. '

'I'll try not to again, ' said Kenneth humbly, 'but how can I get out?'

'There's only one way, ' said the Carp rolling his vast body over in hiswatery bed, 'and a jolly unpleasant way it is. Far better stay here andbe a good little fish. On the honour of a gentleman that's the bestthing you can do. '

'I want to get out, ' said Kenneth again. 

'Well then, the only way is ... You know we always teach the young fishto look out for hooks so that they may avoid them. _You_ must look outfor a hook and _take it_. Let them catch you. On a hook. '

The Carp shuddered and went on solemnly, 'Have you strength? Have youpatience? Have you high courage and determination? You will want themall. Have you all these?'

'I don't know what I've got, ' said poor Kenneth, 'except that I've got atail and fins, and I don't know a hook when I see it. Won't you comewith me? Oh! dear Mr. Doyen Carp, _do_ come and show me a hook. '

'It will hurt you, ' said the Carp, 'very much indeed. You take agentleman's word for it. '

'I know, ' said Kenneth, 'you needn't rub it in. '

The Carp rolled heavily out of his bed. 

'Come on then, ' he said, 'I don't admire your taste, but if you _want_ ahook, well, the gardener's boy is fishing in the cool of the evening. Come on. '

He led the way with a steady stately movement. 

'I want to take the ring with me, ' said Kenneth, 'but I can't get holdof it. Do you think you could put it on my fin with your snout?'

'My what!' shouted the old Carp indignantly and stopped dead. 

'Your nose, I meant, ' said Kenneth. 'Oh! please don't be angry. It wouldbe so kind of you if you would. Shove the ring on, I mean. '

'That will hurt too, ' said the Carp, and Kenneth thought he seemed notaltogether sorry that it should. 

It did hurt very much indeed. The ring was hard and heavy, and somehowKenneth's fin would not fold up small enough for the ring to slip overit, and the Carp's big mouth was rather clumsy at the work. But at lastit was done. And then they set out in search of a hook for Kenneth to becaught with. 

'I wish we could find one! I wish we could!' Kenneth Fish kept saying. 

'You're just looking for trouble, ' said the Carp. 'Well, here you are!'

Above them in the clear water hung a delicious-looking worm. Kenneth Boydid not like worms any better than you do, but to Kenneth Fish that wormlooked most tempting and delightful. 

'Just wait a sec. , ' he said, 'till I get that worm. '

'You little silly, ' said the Carp, '_that's the hook_. Take it. '

'Wait a sec. , ' said Kenneth again. 

His courage was beginning to ooze out of his fin tips, and a shiver randown him from gills to tail. 

'If you once begin to think about a hook you never take it, ' said theCarp. 

'_Never?_' said Kenneth 'Then ... Oh! good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped at the worm. A sharp pain ran through his head and he felthimself drawn up into the air, that stifling, choking, husky, thickstuff in which fish cannot breathe. And as he swung in the air thedreadful thought came to him, 'Suppose I don't turn into a boy again?Suppose I keep being a fish?' And then he wished he hadn't. But it wastoo late to wish that. 

Everything grew quite dark, only inside his head there seemed to be alight. There was a wild, rushing, buzzing noise, then something in hishead seemed to break and he knew no more. 

 * * * * *

When presently he knew things again, he was lying on something hard. Washe Kenneth Fish lying on a stone at the bottom of the moat, or KennethBoy lying somewhere out of the water? His breathing was all right, so hewasn't a fish out of water or a boy under it. 

'He's coming to, ' said a voice. The Carp's he thought it was. But nextmoment he knew it to be the voice of his aunt, and he moved his hand andfelt grass in it. He opened his eyes and saw above him the soft gray ofthe evening sky with a star or two. 

'Here's the ring, Aunt, ' he said. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration: 'Oh, good-bye!' he cried desperately, and snapped at theworm. ]

The cook had heard a splash and had run out just as the picnic partyarrived at the front door. They had all rushed to the moat, and theuncle had pulled Kenneth out with the boat-hook. He had not been in thewater more than three minutes, they said. But Kenneth knew better. 

They carried him in, very wet he was, and laid him on the breakfast-roomsofa, where the aunt with hurried thoughtfulness had spread out theuncle's mackintosh. 

'Get some rough towels, Jane, ' said the aunt. 'Make haste, do. '

'I got the ring, ' said Kenneth. 

'Never mind about the ring, dear, ' said the aunt, taking his boots off. 

'But you said I was a thief and a liar, ' Kenneth said feebly, 'and itwas in the moat all the time. '

'_Mother!_' it was Alison who shrieked. 'You didn't say that to him?'

'Of course I didn't, ' said the aunt impatiently. She thought she hadn't, but then Kenneth thought she had. 

'It was _me_ took the ring, ' said Alison, 'and I dropped it. I didn'tsay I hadn't. I only said I'd rather not say. Oh Mother! poor Kenneth!'

The aunt, without a word, carried Kenneth up to the bath-room and turnedon the hot-water tap. The uncle and Ethel followed. 

'Why didn't you own up, you sneak?' said Conrad to his sister withwithering scorn. 

'Sneak, ' echoed the stout George. 

'I meant to. I was only getting steam up, ' sobbed Alison. 'I didn'tknow. Mother only told us she wasn't pleased with Ken, and so he wasn'tto go to the picnic. Oh! what shall I do? What shall I do?'

'Sneak!' said her brothers in chorus, and left her to her tears of shameand remorse. 

It was Kenneth who next day begged every one to forgive and forget. Andas it was _his_ day--rather like a birthday, you know--when no one couldrefuse him anything, all agreed that the whole affair should be buriedin oblivion. Every one was tremendously kind, the aunt more so than anyone. But Alison's eyes were still red when in the afternoon they allwent fishing once more. And before Kenneth's hook had been two minutesin the water there was a bite, a very big fish, the uncle had to becalled from his study to land it. 

'Here's a magnificent fellow, ' said the uncle. 'Not an ounce less thantwo pounds, Ken. I'll have it stuffed for you. '

And he held out the fish and Kenneth found himself face to face with theDoyen Carp. There was no mistaking that mouth that opened like akit-bag, and shut in a sneer like a rhinoceros's. Its eye was mostreproachful. 

'Oh! no, ' cried Kenneth, 'you helped me back and I'll help you back, 'and he caught the Carp from the hands of the uncle and flung it out inthe moat. 

'Your head's not quite right yet, my boy, ' said the uncle kindly. 'Hadn't you better go in and lie down a bit?'

But Alison understood, for he had told her the whole story. He had toldher that morning before breakfast while she was still in deep disgrace;to cheer her up, he said. And, most disappointingly, it made her crymore than ever. 

'Your poor little fins, ' she had said, 'and having your feet tied up inyour tail. And it was all my fault. '

'I liked it, ' Kenneth had said with earnest politeness, 'it was a mostawful lark. ' And he quite meant what he said. 

XII

THE MAGICIAN'S HEART

We all have our weaknesses. Mine is mulberries. Yours, perhaps, motorcars. Professor Taykin's was christenings--royal christenings. He alwaysexpected to be asked to the christening parties of all the little royalbabies, and of course he never was, because he was not a lord, or aduke, or a seller of bacon and tea, or anything really high-class, butmerely a wicked magician, who by economy and strict attention tocustomers had worked up a very good business of his own. He had notalways been wicked. He was born quite good, I believe, and his oldnurse, who had long since married a farmer and retired into the calm ofcountry life, always used to say that he was the duckiest little boy ina plaid frock with the dearest little fat legs. But he had changed sincehe was a boy, as a good many other people do--perhaps it was his trade. I dare say you've noticed that cobblers are usually thin, and brewersare generally fat, and magicians are almost always wicked. 

Well, his weakness (for christenings) grew stronger and stronger becauseit was never indulged, and at last he 'took the bull into his ownhands, ' as the Irish footman at the palace said, and went to achristening without being asked. It was a very grand party given by theKing of the Fortunate Islands, and the little prince was christenedFortunatus. No one took any notice of Professor Taykin. They were toopolite to turn him out, but they made him wish he'd never come. He feltquite an outsider, as indeed he was, and this made him furious. So thatwhen all the bright, light, laughing, fairy godmothers were crowdinground the blue satin cradle, and giving gifts of beauty and strength andgoodness to the baby, the Magician suddenly did a very difficult charm(in his head, like you do mental arithmetic), and said:

'Young Forty may be all that, but _I_ say he shall be the stupidestprince in the world, ' and on that he vanished in a puff of red smokewith a smell like the Fifth of November in a back garden on StreathamHill, and as he left no address the King of the Fortunate Islandscouldn't prosecute him for high treason. 

Taykin was very glad to think that he had made such a lot of peopleunhappy--the whole Court was in tears when he left, including thebaby--and he looked in the papers for another royal christening, so thathe could go to that and make a lot more people miserable. And there wasone fixed for the very next Wednesday. The Magician went to that, too, disguised as a wealthy. 

This time the baby was a girl. Taykin kept close to the pink velvetcradle, and when all the nice qualities in the world had been given tothe Princess he suddenly said, 'Little Aura may be all that, but _I_ sayshe shall be the ugliest princess in all the world. '

And instantly she was. It was terrible. And she had been such abeautiful baby too. Every one had been saying that she was the mostbeautiful baby they had ever seen. This sort of thing is often said atchristenings. 

Having uglified the unfortunate little Princess the Magician did thespell (in his mind, just as you do your spelling) to make himselfvanish, but to his horror there was no red smoke and no smell offireworks, and there he was, still, where he now very much wished not tobe. Because one of the fairies there had seen, just one second too lateto save the Princess, what he was up to, and had made a strong littlecharm in a great hurry to prevent his vanishing. This Fairy was a WhiteWitch, and of course you know that White Magic is much stronger thanBlack Magic, as well as more suited for drawing-room performances. Sothere the Magician stood, 'looking like a thunder-struck pig, ' as someone unkindly said, and the dear White Witch bent down and kissed thebaby princess. 

'There!' she said, 'you can keep that kiss till you want it. When thetime comes you'll know what to do with it. The Magician can't vanish, Sire. You'd better arrest him. '

'Arrest that person, ' said the King, pointing to Taykin. 'I suppose yourcharms are of a permanent nature, madam. '

'Quite, ' said the Fairy, 'at least they never go till there's no longerany use for them. '

So the Magician was shut up in an enormously high tower, and allowed toplay with magic; but none of his spells could act outside the tower sohe was never able to pass the extra double guard that watched outsidenight and day. The King would have liked to have the Magician executedbut the White Witch warned him that this would never do. 

'Don't you see, ' she said, 'he's the only person who can make thePrincess beautiful again. And he'll do it some day. But don't you go_asking_ him to do it. He'll never do anything to oblige you. He's thatsort of man. '

So the years rolled on. The Magician stayed in the tower and did magicand was very bored, --for it is dull to take white rabbits out of yourhat, and your hat out of nothing when there's no one to see you. 

Prince Fortunatus was such a stupid little boy that he got lost quiteearly in the story, and went about the country saying his name wasJames, which it wasn't. A baker's wife found him and adopted him, andsold the diamond buttons of his little overcoat, for three hundredpounds, and as she was a very honest woman she put two hundred away forJames to have when he grew up. 

The years rolled on. Aura continued to be hideous, and she was veryunhappy, till on her twentieth birthday her married cousin Belinda cameto see her. Now Belinda had been made ugly in her cradle too, so shecould sympathise as no one else could. 

'But _I_ got out of it all right, and so will you, ' said Belinda. 'I'msure the first thing to do is to find a magician. '

'Father banished them all twenty years ago, ' said Aura behind her veil, 'all but the one who uglified me. '

'Then I should go to _him_, ' said beautiful Belinda. 'Dress up as abeggar maid, and give him fifty pounds to do it. Not more, or he maysuspect that you're not a beggar maid. It will be great fun. I'd go withyou only I promised Bellamant faithfully that I'd be home to lunch. ' Andoff she went in her mother-of-pearl coach, leaving Aura to look throughthe bound volumes of _The Perfect Lady_ in the palace library, to findout the proper costume for a beggar maid. 

Now that very morning the Magician's old nurse had packed up a ham, andsome eggs, and some honey, and some apples, and a sweet bunch ofold-fashioned flowers, and borrowed the baker's boy to hold the horsefor her, and started off to see the Magician. It was forty years sinceshe'd seen him, but she loved him still, and now she thought she coulddo him a good turn. She asked in the town for his address, and learnedthat he lived in the Black Tower. 

'But you'd best be careful, ' the townsfolk said, 'he's a spiteful chap. '

'Bless you, ' said the old nurse, 'he won't hurt me as nursed him when hewas a babe, in a plaid frock with the dearest little fat legs ever yousee. '

So she got to the tower, and the guards let her through. Taykin wasalmost pleased to see her--remember he had had no visitors for twentyyears--and he was quite pleased to see the ham and the honey. 

'But where did I put them _h_eggs?' said the nurse, 'and the apples--Imust have left them at home after all. '

She had. But the Magician just waved his hand in the air, and there wasa basket of apples that hadn't been there before. The eggs he took outof her bonnet, the folds of her shawl, and even from his own mouth, justlike a conjurer does. Only of course he was a real Magician. 

'Lor!' said she, 'it's like magic. '

'It _is_ magic, ' said he. 'That's my trade. It's quite a pleasure tohave an audience again. I've lived here alone for twenty years. It'svery lonely, especially of an evening. '

'Can't you get out?' said the nurse. 

'No. King's orders must be respected, but it's a dog's life. ' Hesniffed, made himself a magic handkerchief out of empty air, and wipedhis eyes. 

'Take an apprentice, my dear, ' said the nurse. 

'And teach him my magic? Not me. '

'Suppose you got one so stupid he _couldn't_ learn?'

'That would be all right--but it's no use advertising for a stupidperson--you'd get no answers. '

'You needn't advertise, ' said the nurse; and she went out and brought inJames, who was really the Prince of the Fortunate Islands, and also thebaker's boy she had brought with her to hold the horse's head. 

'Now, James, ' she said, 'you'd like to be apprenticed, wouldn't you?'

'Yes, ' said the poor stupid boy. 

'Then give the gentleman your money, James. '

James did. 

'My last doubts vanish, ' said the Magician, 'he _is_ stupid. Nurse, letus celebrate the occasion with a little drop of something. Not beforethe boy because of setting an example. James, wash up. Not here, silly;in the back kitchen. '

So James washed up, and as he was very clumsy he happened to break alittle bottle of essence of dreams that was on the shelf, and instantlythere floated up from the washing-up water the vision of a princess morebeautiful than the day--so beautiful that even James could not helpseeing how beautiful she was, and holding out his arms to her as shecame floating through the air above the kitchen sink. But when he heldout his arms she vanished. He sighed and washed up harder than ever. 

'I wish I wasn't so stupid, ' he said, and then there was a knock at thedoor. James wiped his hands and opened. Some one stood there in verypicturesque rags and tatters. 'Please, ' said some one, who was of coursethe Princess, 'is Professor Taykin at home?'

'Walk in, please, ' said James. 

'My snakes alive!' said Taykin, 'what a day we're having. Threevisitors in one morning. How kind of you to call. Won't you take achair?'

'I hoped, ' said the veiled Princess, 'that you'd give me something elseto take. '

'A glass of wine, ' said Taykin. 'You'll take a glass of wine?'

'No, thank you, ' said the beggar maid who was the Princess. 

'Then take ... Take your veil off, ' said the nurse, 'or you won't feelthe benefit of it when you go out. '

'I can't, ' said Aura, 'it wouldn't be safe. '

'Too beautiful, eh?' said the Magician. 'Still--you're quite safe here. '

'Can you do magic?' she abruptly asked. 

'A little, ' said he ironically. 

'Well, ' said she, 'it's like this. I'm so ugly no one can bear to lookat me. And I want to go as kitchenmaid to the palace. They want a cookand a scullion and a kitchenmaid. I thought perhaps you'd give mesomething to make me pretty. I'm only a poor beggar maid.... It would bea great thing to me if.... '

'Go along with you, ' said Taykin, very cross indeed. 'I never give tobeggars. '

'Here's twopence, ' whispered poor James, pressing it into her hand, 'it's all I've got left. '

'Thank you, ' she whispered back. 'You _are_ good. '

And to the Magician she said:

'I happen to have fifty pounds. I'll give it you for a new face. '

'Done, ' cried Taykin. 'Here's another stupid one!' He grabbed the money, waved his wand, and then and there before the astonished eyes of thenurse and the apprentice the ugly beggar maid became the loveliestprincess in the world. 

'Lor!' said the nurse. 

'My dream!' cried the apprentice. 

'Please, ' said the Princess, 'can I have a looking-glass?' Theapprentice ran to unhook the one that hung over the kitchen sink, andhanded it to her. 'Oh, ' she said, 'how _very_ pretty I am. How can Ithank you?'

'Quite easily, ' said the Magician, 'beggar maid as you are, I herebyoffer you my hand and heart. '

He put his hand into his waistcoat and pulled out his heart. It was fatand pink, and the Princess did not like the look of it. 

'Thank you very much, ' said she, 'but I'd rather not. '

'But I insist, ' said Taykin. 

'But really, your offer.... '

'Most handsome, I'm sure, ' said the nurse. 

'My affections are engaged, ' said the Princess, looking down. 'I can'tmarry you. '

'Am I to take this as a refusal?' asked Taykin; and the Princess saidshe feared that he was. 

'Very well, then, ' he said, 'I shall see you home, and ask your fatherabout it. He'll not let you refuse an offer like this. Nurse, come andtie my necktie. '

So he went out, and the nurse with him. 

Then the Princess told the apprentice in a very great hurry who she was. 

'It would never do, ' she said, 'for him to see me home. He'd find outthat I was the Princess, and he'd uglify me again in no time. '

'He sha'n't see you home, ' said James. 'I may be stupid but I'm strongtoo. '

'How brave you are, ' said Aura admiringly, 'but I'd rather slip awayquietly, without any fuss. Can't you undo the patent lock of that door?'The apprentice tried but he was too stupid, and the Princess was notstrong enough. 

'I'm sorry, ' said the apprentice who was a Prince. 'I can't undo thedoor, but when _he_ does I'll hold him and you can get away. I dreamedof you this morning, ' he added. 

'I dreamed of you too, ' said she, 'but you were different. '

'Perhaps, ' said poor James sadly, 'the person you dreamed about wasn'tstupid, and I am. '

'Are you _really_?' cried the Princess. 'I _am_ so glad!'

'That's rather unkind, isn't it?' said he. 

'No; because if _that's_ all that makes you different from the man Idreamed about I can soon make _that_ all right. '

And with that she put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. And ather kiss his stupidness passed away like a cloud, and he became asclever as any one need be; and besides knowing all the ordinary lessonshe would have learned if he had stayed at home in his palace, he knewwho he was, and where he was, and why, and he knew all the geography ofhis father's kingdom, and the exports and imports and the condition ofpolitics. And he knew also that the Princess loved him. 

So he caught her in his arms and kissed her, and they were very happy, and told each other over and over again what a beautiful world it was, and how wonderful it was that they should have found each other, seeingthat the world is not only beautiful but rather large. 

'That first one was a magic kiss, you know, ' said she. 'My fairygodmother gave it to me, and I've been keeping it all these years foryou. You must get away from here, and come to the palace. Oh, you'llmanage it--you're clever now. '

'Yes, ' he said, 'I _am_ clever now. I can undo the lock for you. Go, mydear, go before he comes back. '

So the Princess went. And only just in time; for as she went out of onedoor Taykin came in at the other. 

He was furious to find her gone; and I should not like to write down thethings he said to his apprentice when he found that James had been sostupid as to open the door for her. They were not polite things at all. 

He tried to follow her. But the Princess had warned the guards, and hecould not get out. 

'Oh, ' he cried, 'if only my old magic would work outside this tower. I'dsoon be even with her. '

And then in a strange, confused, yet quite sure way, he felt that thespell that held him, the White Witch's spell, was dissolved. 

'To the palace!' he cried; and rushing to the cauldron that hung overthe fire he leaped into it, leaped out in the form of a red lion, anddisappeared. 

Without a moment's hesitation the Prince, who was his apprentice, followed him, calling out the same words and leaping into the samecauldron, while the poor nurse screamed and wrung her hands. As hetouched the liquor in the cauldron he felt that he was not quitehimself. He was, in fact, a green dragon. He felt himself vanish--a mostuncomfortable sensation--and reappeared, with a suddenness that took hisbreath away, in his own form and at the back door of the palace. 

The time had been short, but already the Magician had succeeded inobtaining an engagement as palace cook. How he did it without referencesI don't know. Perhaps he made the references by magic as he had made theeggs, and the apples, and the handkerchief. 

Taykin's astonishment and annoyance at being followed by his faithfulapprentice were soon soothed, for he saw that a stupid scullion would beof great use. Of course he had no idea that James had been made cleverby a kiss. 

'But how are you going to cook?' asked the apprentice. 'You don't knowhow!'

'I shall cook, ' said Taykin, 'as I do everything else--by magic. ' And hedid. I wish I had time to tell you how he turned out a hot dinner ofseventeen courses from totally empty saucepans, how James looked in acupboard for spices and found it empty, and how next moment the nursewalked out of it. The Magician had been so long alone that he seemed torevel in the luxury of showing off to some one, and he leaped about fromone cupboard to another, produced cats and cockatoos out of empty jars, and made mice and rabbits disappear and reappear till James's head wasin a whirl, for all his cleverness; and the nurse, as she washed up, wept tears of pure joy at her boy's wonderful skill. 

'All this excitement's bad for my heart, though, ' Taykin said at last, and pulling his heart out of his chest, he put it on a shelf, and as hedid so his magic note-book fell from his breast and the apprenticepicked it up. Taykin did not see him do it; he was busy making thekitchen lamp fly about the room like a pigeon. 

It was just then that the Princess came in, looking more lovely thanever in a simple little morning frock of white chiffon and diamonds. 

'The beggar maid, ' said Taykin, 'looking like a princess! I'll marry herjust the same. '

'I've come to give the orders for dinner, ' she said; and then she sawwho it was, and gave one little cry and stood still, trembling. 

'To order the dinner, ' said the nurse. 'Then you're----'

'Yes, ' said Aura, 'I'm the Princess. '

'You're the Princess, ' said the Magician. 'Then I'll marry you all themore. And if you say no I'll uglify you as the word leaves your lips. Oh, yes--you think I've just been amusing myself over my cooking--butI've really been brewing the strongest spell in the world. Marry me--ordrink----'

The Princess shuddered at these dreadful words. 

'Drink, or marry me, ' said the Magician. 'If you marry me you shall bebeautiful for ever. '

'Ah, ' said the nurse, 'he's a match even for a Princess. '

'I'll tell papa, ' said the Princess, sobbing. 

'No, you won't, ' said Taykin. 'Your father will never know. If you won'tmarry me you shall drink this and become my scullery maid--my hideousscullery maid--and wash up for ever in the lonely tower. '

He caught her by the wrist. 

'Stop, ' cried the apprentice, who was a Prince. 

'Stop? _Me?_ Nonsense! Pooh!' said the Magician. 

'Stop, I say!' said James, who was Fortunatus. '_I've got your heart!_'He had--and he held it up in one hand, and in the other a cooking knife. 

'One step nearer that lady, ' said he, 'and in goes the knife. '

The Magician positively skipped in his agony and terror. 

'I say, look out!' he cried. 'Be careful what you're doing. Accidentshappen so easily! Suppose your foot slipped! Then no apologies wouldmeet the case. That's my heart you've got there. My life's bound up init. '

'I know. That's often the case with people's hearts, ' said Fortunatus. 'We've got you, my dear sir, on toast. My Princess, might I trouble youto call the guards. '

The Magician did not dare to resist, so the guards arrested him. Thenurse, though in floods of tears, managed to serve up a very good plaindinner, and after dinner the Magician was brought before the King. 

Now the King, as soon as he had seen that his daughter had been made sobeautiful, had caused a large number of princes to be fetched bytelephone. He was anxious to get her married at once in case she turnedugly again. So before he could do justice to the Magician he had tosettle which of the princes was to marry the Princess. He had chosen thePrince of the Diamond Mountains, a very nice steady young man with agood income. But when he suggested the match to the Princess shedeclined it, and the Magician, who was standing at the foot of thethrone steps loaded with chains, clattered forward and said:

'Your Majesty, will you spare my life if I tell you something you don'tknow?'

The King, who was a very inquisitive man, said 'Yes. '

'Then know, ' said Taykin, 'that the Princess won't marry _your_ choice, because she's made one of her own--my apprentice. '

The Princess meant to have told her father this when she had got himalone and in a good temper. But now he was in a bad temper, and in fullaudience. 

The apprentice was dragged in, and all the Princess's agonized pleadingsonly got this out of the King--

'All right. I won't hang him. He shall be best man at your wedding. '

Then the King took his daughter's hand and set her in the middle of thehall, and set the Prince of the Diamond Mountains on her right and theapprentice on her left. Then he said:

'I will spare the life of this aspiring youth on your left if you'llpromise never to speak to him again, and if you'll promise to marry thegentleman on your right before tea this afternoon. '

The wretched Princess looked at her lover, and his lips formed the word'Promise. '

So she said: 'I promise never to speak to the gentleman on my left andto marry the gentleman on my right before tea to-day, ' and held out herhand to the Prince of the Diamond Mountains. 

Then suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, the Prince of the DiamondMountains was on her left, and her hand was held by her own Prince, whostood at her right hand. And yet nobody seemed to have moved. It was thepurest and most high-class magic. 

'Dished, ' cried the King, 'absolutely dished!'

'A mere trifle, ' said the apprentice modestly. 'I've got Taykin's magicrecipe book, as well as his heart. '

'Well, we must make the best of it, I suppose, ' said the King crossly. 'Bless you, my children. '

He was less cross when it was explained to him that the apprentice wasreally the Prince of the Fortunate Islands, and a much better match thanthe Prince of the Diamond Mountains, and he was quite in a good temperby the time the nurse threw herself in front of the throne and beggedthe King to let the Magician off altogether--chiefly on the ground thatwhen he was a baby he was the dearest little duck that ever was, in theprettiest plaid frock, with the loveliest fat legs. 

The King, moved by these arguments, said:

'I'll spare him if he'll promise to be good. '

'You will, ducky, won't you?' said the nurse, crying. 

'No, ' said the Magician, 'I won't; and what's more, I can't. '

The Princess, who was now so happy that she wanted every one else to behappy too, begged her lover to make Taykin good 'by magic. '

'Alas, my dearest Lady, ' said the Prince, 'no one can be made good bymagic. I could take the badness out of him--there's an excellent recipein this note-book--but if I did that there'd be so very little left. '

'Every little helps, ' said the nurse wildly. 

Prince Fortunatus, who was James, who was the apprentice, studied thebook for a few moments, and then said a few words in a language no onepresent had ever heard before. 

And as he spoke the wicked Magician began to tremble and shrink. 

'Oh, my boy--be good! Promise you'll be good, ' cried the nurse, stillin tears. 

The Magician seemed to be shrinking inside his clothes. He grew smallerand smaller. The nurse caught him in her arms, and still he grew lessand less, till she seemed to be holding nothing but a bundle of clothes. Then with a cry of love and triumph she tore the Magician's clothes awayand held up a chubby baby boy, with the very plaid frock and fat legsshe had so often and so lovingly described. 

'I said there wouldn't be much of him when the badness was out, ' saidthe Prince Fortunatus. 

'I will be good; oh, I will, ' said the baby boy that had been theMagician. 

'I'll see to that, ' said the nurse. And so the story ends with love anda wedding, and showers of white roses.