Transcriber’s Note
Changes made are noted at the end of the book.
[Illustration: Louisa Pussycat Sleeps Late]
_The_
Fairy Caravan
_By_
BEATRIX POTTER
_Author of_
THE FAMOUS
“PETER RABBIT” BOOKS
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
DAVID McKAY COMPANY
WASHINGTON SQUARE
Copyright, 1929, by David McKay Company
TO HENRY P.
PREFACE
As I walk’d by myself,
And talked to myself,
Myself said unto me—
Through many changing seasons these tales
have walked and talked with me. They were
not meant for printing; I have left them in the
homely idiom of our old north country speech.
I send them on the insistence of friends beyond
the sea.
BEATRIX POTTER.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. TUPPENNY 9
II. THE TRAVELLING CIRCUS 21
III. MOVING CAMP 28
IV. PONY BILLY IN THE POUND 35
V. THE MISSES PUSSYCATS’ SHOP 45
VI. LITTLE MOUSE 54
VII. SPRINGTIME IN BIRDS’ PLACE 59
VIII. THE PIGMY ELEPHANT 66
IX. BY WILFIN BECK 73
X. THE SHEEP 85
XI. HABBITROT 97
XII. ACROSS THE FORD 105
XIII. CODLIN CROFT ORCHARD 112
XIV. DEMERARA SUGAR 123
XV. PONY BILLY’S SEARCH 136
XVI. THE EFFECT OF TOADSTOOL TARTLETS 145
XVII. FAIRY HORSE-SHOES 151
XVIII. THE WOODS BY MOONLIGHT 163
XIX. MARY ELLEN 174
XX. IKY SHEPSTER’S PLAY 183
XXI. THE VETERINARY RETRIEVER 196
XXII. CUCKOO BROW LANE 206
XXIII. THE FAIRY IN THE OAK 216
[Illustration]
THE FAIRY CARAVAN
CHAPTER I
In the Land of Green Ginger there is a town called Marmalade, which is
inhabited exclusively by guinea-pigs. They are of all colours, and of
two sorts. The common, or garden, guinea-pigs are the most numerous.
They have short hair, and they run errands and twitter. The guinea-pigs
of the other variety are called Abyssinian Cavies. They have long hair
and side whiskers, and they walk upon their toes.
The common guinea-pigs admire and envy the hair of the Abyssinian
Cavies; they would give anything to be able to make their own short
hair grow long. So there was excitement and twittering amongst the
short-haired guinea-pigs when Messrs. Ratton and Scratch, Hair
Specialists, sent out hundreds of advertisements by post, describing
their new elixir.
The Abyssinian Cavies who required no hair stimulant were affronted by
the advertisements. They found the twitterings tiresome.
During the night between March 31st and April 1st, Messrs. Ratton and
Scratch arrived in Marmalade. They placarded the walls of the town with
posters; and they set up a booth in the market place. Next morning
quantities of elegantly stoppered bottles were displayed upon the
booth. The rats stood in front of the booth, and distributed handbills
describing the wonderful effects of their new quintessence. “Come buy,
come buy, come buy! Buy a bottleful and try it on a door-knob! We
guarantee that it will grow a crop of onions!” shouted Messrs. Ratton
and Scratch. Crowds of short-haired guinea-pigs swarmed around the
booth.
[Illustration]
The Abyssinian Cavies sniffed, and passed by upon their toes.
They remarked that Mr. Ratton was slightly bald. The short-haired
guinea-pigs continued to crowd around, twittering and asking questions;
but they hesitated to buy. The price of a very small bottle holding
only two thimblefuls was ten peppercorns.
And besides this high charge there was an uncomfortable doubt as to
what the stuff was made of. The Abyssinian Cavies spread ill-natured
reports that it was manufactured from slugs. Mr. Scratch emphatically
contradicted this slander; he asserted that it was distilled from the
purest Arabian moonshine; “And Arabia is quite close to Abyssinia,”
said Mr. Scratch with a wink, pointing to a particularly long-haired
Abyssinian Cavy. “Come buy a sample bottle can’t you! Listen to
these testimonials from our grateful customers,” said Mr. Ratton.
He proceeded to read aloud a number of letters. But he did not
specifically deny a rumour that got about; about a certain notorious
nobleman, a much married nobleman, who had bought a large bottle
of the quintessence by persuasion of the first of his eight wives.
This nobleman—so the story ran—had used the hair stimulant with
remarkable results. He had grown a magnificent beard. But the beard
was blue. Which may be fashionable in Arabia; but the short-haired
guinea-pigs were dubious. Messrs. Ratton and Scratch shouted themselves
hoarse. “Come buy a sample bottle half price, and try it for salad
dressing! The cucumbers will grow of themselves while you are mixing
the hair oil and vinegar! Buy a sample bottle, can’t you?” shouted
Messrs. Ratton and Scratch. The short-haired guinea-pigs determined to
purchase one bottle of the smallest size, to be tried upon Tuppenny.
Tuppenny was a short-haired guinea-pig of dilapidated appearance. He
suffered from toothache and chilblains; and he had never had much hair,
not even of the shortest. It was thin and patchy. Whether this was
the result of chilblains or of ill-treatment is uncertain. He was an
object, whatever the cause. Obviously he was a suitable subject for
experiment. “His appearance can scarcely become worse, provided he does
not turn blue,” said his friend Henry P.; “let us subscribe for a small
bottle, and apply it as directed.”
[Illustration]
So Henry P. and nine other guinea-pigs bought a bottle and ran in a
twittering crowd towards Tuppenny’s house. On the way, they overtook
Tuppenny going home. They explained to him that out of sympathy they
had subscribed for a bottle of moonshine to cure his toothache and
chilblains, and that they would rub it on for him as Mrs. Tuppenny was
out.
Tuppenny was too depressed to argue; he allowed himself to be led away.
Henry P. and the nine other guinea-pigs poured the whole bottleful
over Tuppenny, and put him to bed. They wore gloves themselves while
applying the quintessence. Tuppenny was quite willing to go to bed; he
felt chilly and damp.
Presently Mrs. Tuppenny came in; she complained about the sheets. Henry
P. and the other guinea-pigs went away. After tea they returned at
5.30. Mrs. Tuppenny said nothing had happened.
The short-haired guinea-pigs took a walk; they looked in again at 6.
Mrs. Tuppenny was abusive. She said there was no change. At 6.30 they
called again to inquire. Mrs. Tuppenny was still more abusive. She
said Tuppenny was very hot. Next time they came she said the patient
was in a fever, and felt as if he were growing a tail. She slammed the
door in their faces and said she would not open it again for anybody.
Henry P. and the other guinea-pigs were perturbed. They betook
themselves to the market place, where Messrs. Ratton and Scratch were
still trying to sell bottles by lamplight, and they asked anxiously
whether there was any risk of tails growing? Mr. Scratch burst into
ribald laughter; and Mr. Ratton said—“No sort of tail except pigtails
on the head!”
During the night Messrs. Ratton and Scratch packed up their booth and
departed from the town of Marmalade.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Next morning at daybreak a crowd of guinea-pigs collected on Tuppenny’s
doorstep. More and more arrived until Mrs. Tuppenny came out with a
scrubbing brush and a pail of water. In reply to inquiries from a
respectful distance, she said that Tuppenny had had a disturbed night.
Further she would not say, except that he was unable to keep on his
nightcap. No more could be ascertained, until, providentially, Mrs.
Tuppenny discovered that she had nothing for breakfast. She went out to
buy a carrot.
Henry P. and a crowd of other guinea-pigs swarmed into the house, as
soon as she was round the corner of the street. They found Tuppenny
out of bed, sitting on a chair, looking frightened. At least,
presumably it was Tuppenny, but he looked different. His hair was
over his ears and nose. And that was not all; for whilst they were
talking to him, his hair grew down onto his empty plate. It grew
something alarming. It was quite nice hair and the proper colour; but
Tuppenny said he felt funny; sore all over, as if his hair were being
brushed back to front; and prickly and hot, like needles and pins; and
altogether uncomfortable.
And well he might! His hair—it grew, and it grew, and it grew; faster
and faster and nobody knew how to stop it! Messrs. Ratton and Scratch
had gone away and left no address. If they possessed an antidote
there was no way of obtaining it. All day that day, and for several
days—still the hair kept growing. Mrs. Tuppenny cut it, and cut it,
and stuffed pincushions with it, and pillow cases and bolsters; but as
fast as she cut it—it grew again. When Tuppenny went out he tumbled
over it; and the rude little guinea-pig boys ran after him, shouting
“Old Whiskers!” His life became a burden.
[Illustration]
Then Mrs. Tuppenny began to pull it out. The effect of the quintessence
was beginning to wear off, if only she would have exercised a little
patience; but she was tired of cutting; so she pulled. She pulled
so painfully and shamelessly that Tuppenny could not stand it. He
determined to run away—away from the hair pulling and the chilblains
and the long-haired and the short-haired guinea-pigs, away and away, so
far away that he would never come back.
So that is how it happened that Tuppenny left his home in the town of
Marmalade, and wandered into the world alone.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]