Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington Gardens, which
is the only house in the whole world that the fairies have built for
humans. But no one has really seen it, except just three or four, and
they have not only seen it but slept in it, and unless you sleep in it
you never see it. This is because it is not there when you lie down, but
it is there when you wake up and step outside.
In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not really
it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light after Lock-out
Time. David, for instance, saw it quite distinctly far away among the
trees as we were going home from the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw
it the night he stayed so late at the Temple, which is the name of
his father's office. Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted
because then she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light,
she saw hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the
fairies building the house, for they build it every night and always
in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of the lights was
bigger than the others, though she was not quite sure, for they jumped
about so, and it might have been another one that was bigger. But if it
was the same one, it was Peter Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen
the light, so that is nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one
for whom the house was first built.
Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that she
was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime she was
the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother Tony, who was a
magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her, and she looked up to him
in the right way, and tried in vain to imitate him and was flattered
rather than annoyed when he shoved her about. Also, when she was batting
she would pause though the ball was in the air to point out to you
that she was wearing new shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the
daytime.
But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his contempt
for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for with dark there
came into her face a look that I can describe only as a leary look.
It was also a serene look that contrasted grandly with Tony's uneasy
glances. Then he would make her presents of his favourite toys (which
he always took away from her next morning) and she accepted them with a
disturbing smile. The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so
mysterious was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to
bed. It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to do
it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse threatened her, but
Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile. And by-and-by when they were
alone with their night-light she would start up in bed crying “Hsh! what
was that?” Tony beseeches her! “It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!”
and pulls the sheet over his head. “It is coming nearer!” she cries;
“Oh, look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is
boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!” and she desists not until he rushes
downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they came up to whip
Maimie they usually found her sleeping tranquilly, not shamming, you
know, but really sleeping, and looking like the sweetest little angel,
which seems to me to make it almost worse.
But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and then
Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his talk that he
was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it as Maimie. She would
have loved to have a ticket on her saying that she was his sister. And
at no time did she admire him more than when he told her, as he often
did with splendid firmness, that one day he meant to remain behind in
the Gardens after the gates were closed.
“Oh, Tony,” she would say, with awful respect, “but the fairies will be
so angry!”
“I daresay,” replied Tony, carelessly.
“Perhaps,” she said, thrilling, “Peter Pan will give you a sail in his
boat!”
“I shall make him,” replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him.
But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were
overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from which
the little people weave their summer curtains, and after that Tony was a
marked boy. They loosened the rails before he sat on them, so that down
he came on the back of his head; they tripped him up by catching his
boot-lace and bribed the ducks to sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty
accidents you meet with in the Gardens occur because the fairies have
taken an ill-will to you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you
say about them.
Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing things,
but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which day he was to
remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he merely replied, “Just
some day;” he was quite vague about which day except when she asked
“Will it be to-day?” and then he could always say for certain that it
would not be to-day. So she saw that he was waiting for a real good
chance.
This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with snow,
and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to skate on but
at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by flinging stones, and many
bright little boys and girls were doing that.
When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to the pond,
but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first, and as she said
this she glanced at the time-board to see when the Gardens closed that
night. It read half-past five. Poor ayah! she is the one who laughs
continuously because there are so many white children in the world, but
she was not to laugh much more that day.
Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned to the
time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five o'clock for
closing time. But she was unacquainted with the tricky ways of the
fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and Tony saw at once) that they
had changed the hour because there was to be a ball to-night. She said
there was only time now to walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as
they trotted along with her she little guessed what was thrilling their
little breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball.
Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance.
He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her eager
eyes asked the question, “Is it to-day?” and he gasped and then nodded.
Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was hot, but his was cold.
She did a very kind thing; she took off her scarf and gave it to him!
“In case you should feel cold,” she whispered. Her face was aglow, but
Tony's was very gloomy.
As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, “I'm afraid
Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it.”
Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but their
ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and she said
aloud, “Tony, I shall race you to the gate,” and in a whisper, “Then you
can hide,” and off they ran.
Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known him
speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried that he might
have more time to hide. “Brave, brave!” her doting eyes were crying when
she got a dreadful shock; instead of hiding, her hero had run out at the
gate! At this bitter sight Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful
of darling treasures were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain
she could not sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she
ran to St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead.
When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she thought her
other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight came on, and scores
and hundreds of people passed out, including the last one, who always
has to run for it, but Maimie saw them not. She had shut her eyes tight
and glued them with passionate tears. When she opened them something
very cold ran up her legs and up her arms and dropped into her heart.
It was the stillness of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from
another part clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of
the Gates.
Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard a voice
say, “So that's all right.” It had a wooden sound and seemed to come
from above, and she looked up in time to see an elm tree stretching out
its arms and yawning.
She was about to say, “I never knew you could speak!” when a metallic
voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well remarked to the
elm, “I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?” and the elm replied, “Not
particularly, but you do get numb standing so long on one leg,” and he
flapped his arms vigorously just as the cabmen do before they drive off.
Maimie was quite surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were
doing the same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and
crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its shoulders
but did not seem to mind her.
She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured pelisse
and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her showed except her
dear little face and her curls. The rest of her real self was hidden far
away inside so many warm garments that in shape she seemed rather like a
ball. She was about forty round the waist.
There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in
time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set
off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but
that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the
walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had
crutches. The crutches were the sticks that are tied to young trees and
shrubs. They were quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never
known what they were for until to-night.
She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street boy
fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees. The way
he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and they shut
like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with snow. “Oh, you
naughty, naughty child!” Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it
was to have a dripping umbrella about your ears.
Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the
chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly “Hoity-toity,
what is this?” that she had to come out and show herself. Then the whole
vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do.
“Of course it is no affair of ours,” a spindle tree said after they had
whispered together, “but you know quite well you ought not to be here,
and perhaps our duty is to report you to the fairies; what do you think
yourself?”
“I think you should not,” Maimie replied, which so perplexed them that
they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. “I wouldn't ask it
of you,” she assured them, “if I thought it was wrong,” and of
course after this they could not well carry tales. They then said,
“Well-a-day,” and “Such is life!” for they can be frightfully sarcastic,
but she felt sorry for those of them who had no crutches, and she said
good-naturedly, “Before I go to the fairies' ball, I should like to take
you for a walk one at a time; you can lean on me, you know.”
At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the Baby
Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a finger round
the very frail, setting their leg right when it got too ridiculous, and
treating the foreign ones quite as courteously as the English, though
she could not understand a word they said.
They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she had not
taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy, and others
jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she was too much of a
lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and she was anxious to be off
to the ball, but she no longer felt afraid. The reason she felt no more
fear was that it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember,
Maimie was always rather strange.
They were now loath to let her go, for, “If the fairies see you,” they
warned her, “they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you
to nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an
evergreen oak.” As they said this they looked with affected pity at an
evergreen oak, for in winter they are very envious of the evergreens.
“Oh, la!” replied the oak bitingly, “how deliciously cosy it is to stand
here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked creatures shivering!”
This made them sulky though they had really brought it on themselves,
and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the perils that faced
her if she insisted on going to the ball.
She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its usual
good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising heart of the
Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental fairy, very poorly of a
dreadful complaint, namely, inability to love, and though he had tried
many ladies in many lands he could not fall in love with one of them.
Queen Mab, who rules in the Gardens, had been confident that her girls
would bewitch him, but alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold.
This rather irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the
Duke's heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always
shook his bald head and murmured, “Cold, quite cold!” Naturally Queen
Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of ordering the court
into tears for nine minutes, and then she blamed the Cupids and decreed
that they should wear fools' caps until they thawed the Duke's frozen
heart.
“How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools' caps!”
Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very recklessly, for the
Cupids hate to be laughed at.
It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being held,
as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous parts of the
Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the dance without wetting
their pumps. This night the ribbons were red and looked very pretty on
the snow.
Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without meeting
anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade approaching. To her
surprise they seemed to be returning from the ball, and she had just
time to hide from them by bending her knees and holding out her arms and
pretending to be a garden chair. There were six horsemen in front and
six behind, in the middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held
up by two pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a
lovely girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She
was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was her
neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and of course
showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat could have glorified
it. The high-born fairies obtain this admired effect by pricking their
skin, which lets the blue blood come through and dye them, and you
cannot imagine anything so dazzling unless you have seen the ladies'
busts in the jewellers' windows.
Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a passion,
tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even fairies to tilt
them, and she concluded that this must be another case in which the
doctor had said “Cold, quite cold!”
Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge over a
dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been unable to climb
out. At first this little damsel was afraid of Maimie, who most kindly
went to her aid, but soon she sat in her hand chatting gaily and
explaining that her name was Brownie, and that though only a poor street
singer she was on her way to the ball to see if the Duke would have her.
“Of course,” she said, “I am rather plain,” and this made Maimie
uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost quite
plain for a fairy.
It was difficult to know what to reply.
“I see you think I have no chance,” Brownie said falteringly.
“I don't say that,” Maimie answered politely, “of course your face is
just a tiny bit homely, but--” Really it was quite awkward for her.
Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He had gone
to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful ladies in London
were on view for half-a-crown the second day, but on his return home
instead of being dissatisfied with Maimie's mother he had said, “You
can't think, my dear, what a relief it is to see a homely face again.”
Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie tremendously,
indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that the Duke would choose
her. So she scudded away up the ribbon, calling out to Maimie not to
follow lest the Queen should mischief her.
But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the seven
Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept forward until
she was quite near it, and then she peeped from behind a tree.
The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was composed
of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other, and so forming
a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were thousands of little
people looking on, but they were in shadow and drab in colour compared
to the glorious creatures within that luminous circle who were so
bewilderingly bright that Maimie had to wink hard all the time she
looked at them.
It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of Christmas
Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a moment: yet out of love
his dusky grace still was: you could see it by the shamed looks of the
Queen and court (though they pretended not to care), by the way darling
ladies brought forward for his approval burst into tears as they were
told to pass on, and by his own most dreary face.
Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart and
hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was particularly
sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps in obscure
places and, every time they heard that “Cold, quite cold,” bowed their
disgraced little heads.
She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell you
now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat had got
wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice, through which
he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty paddle.
The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not dance, so
heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps when they are sad
and remember them again when they are merry. David tells me that fairies
never say “We feel happy”: what they say is, “We feel dancey.”
Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden laughter broke
out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who had just arrived and was
insisting on her right to be presented to the Duke.
Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though she
had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope except Brownie
herself, who, however, was absolutely confident. She was led before his
grace, and the doctor putting a finger carelessly on the ducal heart,
which for convenience sake was reached by a little trapdoor in his
diamond shirt, had begun to say mechanically, “Cold, qui--,” when he
stopped abruptly.
“What's this?” he cried, and first he shook the heart like a watch, and
then put his ear to it.
“Bless my soul!” cried the doctor, and by this time of course the
excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting right
and left.
Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much startled
and looked as if he would like to run away. “Good gracious me!” the
doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart was evidently on fire, for
he had to jerk his fingers away from it and put them in his mouth.
The suspense was awful!
Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, “My Lord Duke,” said the physician
elatedly, “I have the honour to inform your excellency that your grace
is in love.”
You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms to the
Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into the arms of
the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court leapt into the arms of
her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to follow her example in everything.
Thus in a single moment about fifty marriages took place, for if you
leap into each other's arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman
has to be present.
How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came out, and
immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays as if they were
ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild abandon round the fairy ring.
Most gladsome sight of all, the Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps
from their heads and cast them high in the air. And then Maimie went
and spoiled everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight
over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps forward
and cried in an ecstasy, “Oh, Brownie, how splendid!”
Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and all in
the time you may take to say “Oh dear!” An awful sense of her peril
came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was a lost child in a
place where no human must be between the locking and the opening of the
gates, she heard the murmur of an angry multitude, she saw a thousand
swords flashing for her blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled.
How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her head.
Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and ran on again.
Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that she no longer knew
she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was sure of was that she must
never cease to run, and she thought she was still running long after she
had dropped in the Figs and gone to sleep. She thought the snowflakes
falling on her face were her mother kissing her good-night. She thought
her coverlet of snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her
head. And when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was
mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she slept.
But it was the fairies.
I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to mischief
her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with such cries as “Slay
her!” “Turn her into something extremely unpleasant!” and so on, but the
pursuit was delayed while they discussed who should march in front,
and this gave Duchess Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and
demand a boon.
Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was Maimie's
life. “Anything except that,” replied Queen Mab sternly, and all the
fairies chanted “Anything except that.” But when they learned how Maimie
had befriended Brownie and so enabled her to attend the ball to their
great glory and renown, they gave three huzzas for the little human, and
set off, like an army, to thank her, the court advancing in front
and the canopy keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her
footprints in the snow.
But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed impossible
to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They went through the
form of thanking her, that is to say, the new King stood on her body and
read her a long address of welcome, but she heard not a word of it. They
also cleared the snow off her, but soon she was covered again, and they
saw she was in danger of perishing of cold.
“Turn her into something that does not mind the cold,” seemed a good
suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could think of
that does not mind cold was a snowflake. “And it might melt,” the Queen
pointed out, so that idea had to be given up.
A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot, but
though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this time all
the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but presently the Cupids
had a lovely idea. “Build a house round her,” they cried, and at once
everybody perceived that this was the thing to do; in a moment a hundred
fairy sawyers were among the branches, architects were running round
Maimie, measuring her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet,
seventy-five masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen
laid it, overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings
were run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning
lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were putting
in the windows.
The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely. One of
her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a second, but they
built a verandah round it, leading to the front door. The windows were
the size of a coloured picture-book and the door rather smaller, but it
would be easy for her to get out by taking off the roof. The fairies, as
is their custom, clapped their hands with delight over their cleverness,
and they were all so madly in love with the little house that they could
not bear to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many
little extra touches, and even then they added more extra touches.
For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney.
“Now we fear it is quite finished,” they sighed. But no, for another two
ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the chimney.
“That certainly finishes it,” they cried reluctantly.
“Not at all,” cried a glow-worm, “if she were to wake without seeing a
night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her night-light.”
“Wait one moment,” said a china merchant, “and I shall make you a
saucer.”
Now alas, it was absolutely finished.
Oh, dear no!
“Gracious me,” cried a brass manufacturer, “there's no handle on the
door,” and he put one on.
An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-mat.
Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters insisted on
painting it.
Finished at last!
“Finished! how can it be finished,” the plumber demanded scornfully,
“before hot and cold are put in?” and he put in hot and cold. Then an
army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and spades and seeds and
bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had a flower garden to the
right of the verandah and a vegetable garden to the left, and roses and
clematis on the walls of the house, and in less time than five minutes
all these dear things were in full bloom.
Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last finished
true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the dance. They
all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and the last to go was
Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the others to drop a pleasant dream
down the chimney.
All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in the Figs
taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept until the dream
was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously cosy just as morning was
breaking from its egg, and then she almost fell asleep again, and then
she called out, “Tony,” for she thought she was at home in the nursery.
As Tony made no answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof,
and it opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all
around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was not in
the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself, so she pinched
her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and this reminded her
that she was in the middle of a great adventure. She remembered now
everything that had happened to her from the closing of the gates up to
her running away from the fairies, but however, she asked herself, had
she got into this funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over
the garden, and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the
night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else.
“Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!” she cried.
Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it now knew
that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken than it began to
grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could scarce believe it
was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could not contain her now. It
always remained as complete as ever, but it became smaller and smaller,
and the garden dwindled at the same time, and the snow crept closer,
lapping house and garden up. Now the house was the size of a little
dog's kennel, and now of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke
and the door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete.
The glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there. “Darling,
loveliest, don't go!” Maimie cried, falling on her knees, for the little
house was now the size of a reel of thread, but still quite complete.
But as she stretched out her arms imploringly the snow crept up on all
sides until it met itself, and where the little house had been was now
one unbroken expanse of snow.
Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to her
eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, “Don't cry, pretty human, don't
cry,” and then she turned round and saw a beautiful little naked boy
regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that he must be Peter Pan.