to another till she was safely on the land. Then she bade these ugly but
kind friends good-by, and gladly ran about the pleasant field where
autumn flowers were going to seed and dead leaves falling fast. She
feasted on wild grapes, dried berries, and apples fallen from the trees
since the harvest was carried in. Everything was getting ready for
winter, and Bud was glad to make herself a warm suit of mullein
clothes, with a little hood of thistle-down. She was fitting beechnut
shells on her tiny feet for shoes when a withered plant near by called
out to her,--
"Are you going far, that you put on new clothes and stout boots, little
stranger?"
"I must travel till I find my own country, no matter how far away it is.
Can I do any errand for you?" asked Bud, kindly.
"Yes; will you carry these seeds of mine to the great meadow over there?
All my friends are there, and I long to be at home again. Some one
picked me last spring and dropped me here. But I did not die; I took
root and bloomed here, and must always stay unless some one will take my
seeds back. Then I shall come up in my own place next spring and be a
happy flower again."
"I will do it," said Bud; "but I thought the wind took your seeds about
for you."
"Some are too heavy. Pine seeds, maple keys, thistle and dandelion down,
and many others blow about; but some of us grow from our roots, and
some, like me, come from seeds kept in little bags. I'm called
Shepherd's-purse, and I'm a humble weed; but I love my own people and
long to see them again."
"You shall!" cried Bud; and gathering the three-cornered bags she took
them carefully away to the meadow where other plants like this one were
glad to hear of their lost friend and to watch over the gift she sent
them.
Remembering how pleasant and comfortable it was to find various flowers
blooming along the roadside like hospitable inns for tiny travellers
like herself, good Bud spent several days in planting roots and seeds
beside the path that led through the meadow.
"Now children, birds, butterflies, and fairies will be glad to find
these pretty things blooming here, though they will never know who
planted them," she said, when the last task was done.
The frost had come, and nuts were rattling down, leaves turning brown,
and cold winds beginning to blow; so poor Bud looked about as she went
through a wood to find some safe, warm place to sleep in, for a time at
least, because she felt sure that when the snow came she would die, so
small and delicate and friendless was the dear little thing. When she
came to a great oak she sat down on an acorn cup, and tried to break
the hard shell of an acorn that she might nibble a bit for her dinner.
She could not do it, and sat thinking sadly what would become of her,
when a sweet acorn without its shell dropped into her lap, and, looking
up, she saw a gray squirrel peeping at her from a branch above her head.
She smiled, and thanked him, and he came down with a whisk to sit
opposite and look at her with his fine tail over his head like an
umbrella.
"I know you, little maid, and I'm glad you came here, for I can show you
a charming house for the winter. I heard you tell a field-mouse how
lonely you were, and I saw tears dropping just now as you sat here
thinking you had not a friend in the world," said Dart, as he nodded at
her and kindly cracked a chestnut to follow the acorn if she needed
more.
"Every one is very kind to me, but every one seems to go to sleep when
autumn comes; so I felt alone and sad, and expected to die in the snow.
But if I can find a cosey place to live in till spring I shall be very
glad, and will do anything I can to pay for it," answered Bud, much
comforted by her good dinner and a kind word.
"If you will help me get in my nuts and acorns and moss and leaves for
winter food and bedding, I will let you use the Kobolds' house till they
come. They are jolly little fellows, and they will allow you to stay,
and teach you to spin; for they spin all winter, and make lovely cloth
for the elves out of silkweed and thistle-down. Here is their house. I
hide it and take care of it while they are gone, and get it ready for
them in the autumn, as they come with the first snow."
While Dart spoke he had been clearing away a pile of dead leaves at the
foot of the old oak, and soon Bud saw an arched doorway leading into the
hollow trunk, where the roots made different chambers, and all was dry
and warm and cosey as a little house. She went in and looked about, well
pleased at what she saw, and very glad of such a comfortable home. She
hoped the Kobolds would let her stay, and set to work at once to help
Dart get ready for them; for the sky looked dark with snow, and a cold
wind rustled through the wood.
In one room they stored nuts and acorns, rose and holly berries, a dried
apple or two, and many pine cones to burn; for Dart showed her a little
fireplace, and told her the Kobolds kept themselves very warm and jolly
at their work. In another room they spread moss and dry grass for beds,
and there the seven little men would sleep like dormice. The empty
cocoon of a caterpillar still hung in one corner, and Bud said that
should be her hammock with a curtain made of woven yellow bindweed hung
before the nook. They swept the floor with fir-needle brooms, and spread
a carpet of red oak leaves, which gave a very gay air to the place. Then
Dart left Bud to fill a row of acorn cups with water from a spring near
by, while he ran off to nibble splinters from the pitch pines to make
torches for the Kobolds, who worked in the evening and needed light.
Bud was as happy as a little girl with a new baby-house, and looked like
a tiny doll herself as she bustled to and fro, filling her tubs, dusting
her pretty rooms, and getting ready for the seven strangers, like
Snowdrop and the dwarfs in the dear old fairy tale. All was ready in two
days, and Dart had time to lay up his own stores before the snow came.
Bud watched over the heaps of nuts he piled lest his sly neighbors
should steal them while he ran up and down tucking them away in holes
about the oak-tree. This helped him much, and he was very fond of her;
and together they got up a nice surprise for the Kobolds by putting in
new beds for them made of chestnut burrs, which rocked on their outside
prickles like cradles, and were lined with down as soft as silk.
"That will tickle them," said Dart; "and when they know that you thought
of it, they will like you as much as I do. Now rest a bit, and be ready
to welcome them, for I'm sure they will come to-day. I'll run to the
tree-top and look out for them, so you can light the fire when I give
the word."
Dart whisked away, and Bud stood in the doorway, with a warm mat of
hemlock sprigs under her feet, and a garland of evergreen overhead; for
she had trimmed up the arch, and stuck bits of gay holly all about to
welcome the little men. Soon snow-flakes began to flutter down, and Bud
rejoiced that she had a nice, warm home to stay in, instead of freezing
to death like a lost bird. Suddenly Dart called from the tree-top, "They
are coming!" and hurried down to rub two sticks together till a spark
flew out and set the pine cone on the hearth ablaze. "Run to the door
and courtesy when you see them," he said, fanning the fire with his
bushy tail, in a great state of excitement.
Bud peeped out and was just going to say, "I see nothing but snow," when
she saw that what looked like a party of flakes blowing up to the door
was really the seven Kobolds loaded with great piles of white silkweed
for their spinning. She dropped her best courtesy, smiled her sweetest
smile, and called out, "Welcome home, my masters!" like a little
maidservant, as she led the way to the large room, now bright and warm
with the fire roaring up the chimney made by a hole in the old roots.
"Ha, ha! Neighbor Dart, you have done well this time, and we are
satisfied with you. Now just store away our packs while we go for our
wheels, and then we will have supper. But first, tell us who this pretty
person is, if you please?" said the oldest of the Kobolds, while the
others stood nodding and looking at Bud as if she pleased them well.
"Your new housekeeper, gentlemen," answered Dart, and in a few words
told them all about his friend,--how she had helped get ready for them,
what fine tales and songs she knew, and how much good she had done and
still hoped to do while waiting for her wings to grow.
"Good, very good! She shall stay with us, and we will take care of her
till spring. Then we will see what happens;" and they all smiled and
nodded harder than ever, as if they knew something charming but would
not tell it yet.
Then they clapped on their funny pointed hats, and trotted away before
Bud could thank them half enough. While they were gone Dart showed her
how to put a row of chestnuts on the hearth to roast, and how to set the
table, which was a dry mushroom propped up on four legs in the middle of
the room, with little toadstools to sit on. Acorn cups full of berries
and water, and grains of wheat and barley were arranged on it, with a
place for the chestnuts when they were done, and some preserved apple
on an oak-leaf platter. Several torches were lighted and stuck in holes
at the four corners of the table, and then all was ready, and Bud put on
a little white apron made of her torn veil, and waited like a neat cook
to dish up supper when her masters arrived.
Presently they came, each lugging a tiny spinning-wheel on his back; for
they hid them in a cave among the rocks all summer, and got them out
when the time for their winter work was come again. Dart helped them
settle down a bit, and then left them to eat and rest; while Bud waited
on them so nicely they wondered how they ever got on without a maid
before. She was not at all afraid of them now; for they were jolly
little fellows, with fat bodies, thin legs, rosy faces, and sharp eyes.
All were dressed in white down suits, and wore droll pointed hats made
of some seed pod, and boots of magic stuff which carried them great
distances as if blown by the wind.
They liked their supper very much, and ate and drank and chatted
pleasantly till all were done; then they sat round the fire and smoked
sweet fern in Indian pipes till Bud had cleared away.
"Now come and sing to us," they said; and the youngest Kobold politely
set a stool in the warmest corner for her.
So Bud sang all her gayest songs to their great delight, and told her
adventures; and all were very cosey till it was time to sleep. The
little men were charmed with their new beds, and pulling poppy-pod
nightcaps over their heads tumbled in with drowsy good-nights, leaving
Bud to cover up the fire, shut the front door, and put out the lights.
Soon she was in her own soft hammock; and nothing broke the silence but
the sigh of the wind, the tap of falling snow-flakes on dry leaves
outside, and seven little snores inside, as the tired Kobolds dreamed
cosily in their new beds.
Bud was up early next day, and had everything ready when the little men
came out to breakfast. After it they set their wheels whirling, and all
day long they spun busily till many skeins of shining silk were ready to
be woven into elfin cloth. Bud soon learned, and they made her a wheel;
so she could work with them. They seldom spoke, and never ate nor
stopped till night; then the wheels stood still, and the spinners went
out for a run while Bud got supper.
In the evening they went coasting if it was moonlight, or owl-hunting,
and had gay times in the wood, whisking Bud with them, or sliding down
hillocks of snow on their sleds of bark, while Dart looked on, well
wrapped up in his gray fur coat.
But stormy nights they sat at home, and told stories and played games,
and were very merry, and Bud learned many wise and interesting things;
for the Kobolds knew all kinds of fairies, nixies, goblins, and spirits,
and had been in many lands.
It was very pleasant; but when the last month of winter came Bud began
to be so sleepy she could not keep her eyes open, and sat nodding as she
spun, gaping instead of singing, and was often found dreaming in her bed
when she should have been up and at work. She was much troubled about
it, but could not help it; and the Kobolds only laughed, slyly felt of
her shoulders, and told her to sleep away, for their work was nearly
done and they did not need her.
One morning Bud did not wake up at all, and when the little men peeped
at her there she lay rolled up in her hammock very like a chrysalis in
its shell.
"All right," laughed the imps, nodding at one another; "let her sleep
while the wings grow, and in May she will wake up to a prettier surprise
than the one she gave us."
So they finished their work, packed up the silk, and as soon as the snow
was gone they hid their wheels, had a farewell feast with Dart, and
departed, begging him to watch over Bud, and have their house ready for
them next year.
Day after day the grass grew greener, the buds larger, the air warmer,
and the world more beautiful as spring flew over it; but Bud still lay
asleep in her little bed, and the faithful squirrel went every morning
to see that she was safe. May came at last, and the pink flowers under
the leaves pushed out their rosy faces; birds sang among the green
bushes, and the sun shone brightly as the little wood creatures
ventured out one by one for another happy summer.
Then Bud woke from her long sleep, stretched her small arms and legs
like a baby after its nap, looked about her to see where she was, and
sprang up, fearing it was too late to get the Kobolds' breakfast. But
the house was empty, the fire was out, the wheels gone, and nothing to
be seen but a lovely white silk dress lying on the table with her name
woven in tiny buds all over it. While she was looking at it with
delight, Dart came in, and skipped for joy to see her awake again and
prettier than ever; for while she slept she had grown very beautiful.
Her winter gown was withered up, and fell off as she got out of bed,
leaving her all ready for the new silver-white gown, which she gladly
put on.
"Pull away my old hood that lies there on my shoulders, and let me tie
my pretty dress with this fine belt," said Bud, feeling something on her
back.
Dart's black eyes sparkled as he answered with a gay whisk,--
"Shake yourself and see what happens. But don't go till I have time to
admire the splendid princess ready for Fairyland."
Bud shook; and, lo! a pair of blue and silver wings unfolded from her
little shoulders, and there she stood, a shining creature, gay as a
butterfly, delicate as an elf, lovely as a happy child; while Dart waved
his tail like a banner as he cried joyfully,--
"The Kobolds said it would be so because you tried so hard to be and do
good! Now you can go home and lead a happy life in Fairyland."
Bud could only clap her hands and laugh for joy, and try to see the
beautiful wings she had worked and waited for so long.
"Thank you very much for all your kindness to me, dear Dart; I will come
again and see you and the little men if I can. Now I must go and try to
fly before I set out for home," she said, and hastened to the door,
where wood violets were watching for her with eager blue eyes, while the
robins, wrens, and linnets sang to welcome her.
There was no need to learn how to fly; the lovely wings lifted her
lightly up, and away she went like a new-born butterfly glittering in
the sunshine. It was so delightful that she could hardly bear to come
down to the earth again; so she perched on a high branch of the old oak
and took a peep at Dart's home before she said good-by to him.
"How shall I find my way to Fairyland?" she asked, eager to be off, for
the longing was stronger than ever in her heart.
"I have come to show you the road," answered a shrill small voice, as a
splendid humming-bird lit on the branch beside her, its breast sparkling
like a jewel, and its long bill full of honey, while its quivering wings
made the softest music.
"I am ready! Good-by, dear friends! good-by, great world! I love you,
but I must go to my own people," cried Bud, and with a flash of the blue
and silver wings she was gone.
But for many a winter's night her story was told by the Kobolds as they
spun around their fire; and for many a long day did bird and bee,
beetle, ant, and flower, love and remember little Bud.
XI.
THE FLOWER'S STORY.
[Illustration: So they chose a sunny spot on a lonely moor, where the
earth was rich, and a brook kept it moist, and there they planted the
seeds and tended them carefully.--PAGE 257.]
Marion had been ill, and was still so weak that she had to lie on her
bed many hours each day trying to sleep and rest. One winter afternoon
when the snow fell quietly outside and the room was very still, with
Nurse dozing in her chair, the kitten purring on the rug, and nothing
new or pretty to look at but a bunch of pansies in a glass beside the
bed, Marion said to herself with a sigh,--
"If I only had some one to tell me a story I should be able to get
through this long day without fretting. But Mamma is away, Nurse is
tired, and I know all my books by heart; so what can I do, since I'm too
tired to play with my dolls?"
No one answered this important question; and Marion sighed again as she
turned to look at the other side of the room, hoping to discover some
help or amusement in that direction. The queer ladies on the great
Japanese fan over the glass stared at her with their small eyes, but
seemed too busy drinking tea out of red and yellow teapots to take any
interest in the pale little girl on the bed. The pins sat primly in the
blue satin cushion as usual; but neither the pearl fly, the golden
rose-headed one, nor the funny mourning brooch Nurse was so fond
of,--with hair in it, and a picture of a fat baby at the back,--could
amuse Marion now. The dolls lay piled up in the cradle, with their poor
arms and legs sticking out in all directions, sadly neglected by their
little mamma; while the dear books upon the shelves had been read so
often lately that they had nothing new and pleasant to offer now.
"Oh dear! I wish the birds on the wall-paper or the children in the
pictures hanging round my room could sing and talk to me. I've been so
good and patient I really think some one _ought_ to take pity on a poor
little sick girl and do something to please her," said Marion, with a
third sigh, heavier than the others.
It made such a breeze that it blew one of the flowers out of the glass.
Marion took it up and looked at it, ready for any playmate, even a
ladies'-delight.
It was a very pretty one, and showed such a smiling face among its dark
and bright petals that the child felt as if she had found a friend, and
kissed it softly, being rather tender-hearted just then as well as
lonely.
To her great surprise the flower nodded at her, and then a faint, sweet
voice said, as she still held it close to her face,--
"Now I can speak, and am very glad to come and amuse you; for we have
been pitying you very much, because we also are lonely and homesick so
far from our own people."
"Why, you dear little thing, how lovely it is to hear you talk and see
you smile at me! Please tell me all about yourself. I'm fond of flowers,
and was so pleased when one of my schoolmates sent me this pretty
nosegay of pansies," said Marion, charmed with this surprise.
"I have no story; for I was born in a green-house, and have lived in a
little flower-pot all my life, with many sisters, who are carried away
when they bloom, and never come back again. We only sat for a few hours
in a shop before we were pinned in paper, and brought here by a dreadful
boy, who left us at your door. We were much pleased to find ourselves in
this pretty vase of fresh water in a quiet, warm room, with a gentle
mistress to look at us. Now, if you want a story about our people, I
will tell you an old one that all our family know and like very much."
"Do!" cried Marion; and then, with kitty asleep on her arm, she lay and
listened with the deepest interest to this little history of--
THE PRINCES AND THE PANSIES:
A FAIRY TALE.
Once upon a time there was a King who had two little sons, named Purple
and Plush because they always wore mourning for their mother, who died
when they were born. The King would not wear purple, which is the proper
color for royal sorrow. He was a very selfish man, and cared only for
his own comfort; so he lived in his splendid rooms, and amused himself
among his books, quite lazy and contented in his green velvet
dressing-gown and red cap, sleeping a great deal, reading, and drinking
wine so that he might forget the loss of his beautiful queen.
He did not care about his little sons, and left them to the nurses and
then the tutors, as they grew up from babies to pretty boys, so sweet
and wise and good that people said the spirit of their dead mother must
watch over them; and perhaps it did. They were always together, always
busy, always kind and gentle, but rather sad, because their father did
not love them; and all the affection of the many friends they made could
not make up for the loss of father and mother love.
His subjects wanted the King to marry again, so that the court might be
gay with feasts and balls and splendid games as it used to be; but he
was too selfish and lazy to disturb himself, till a certain beautiful
lady came to see him. She was a widow, with two little daughters, named
Primrose and Daffodil because they always wore yellow gowns. Their
mother was the Princess Jonquil, and dressed in cloth of gold. She was
very proud, and wished to be queen; so she put on a purple velvet cloak,
and made the little girls wear purple hats to look as if they mourned
like the rest of the kingdom, and went to court to marry the King. They
were all so pretty and charming that every one admired and welcomed
them; and while the Princess played chess and read poetry to amuse his
Majesty, the children played together and tried to be friends.
But Primrose and Daffodil were vain and selfish and wilful; and the
little Princes soon found that they expected to have their own way
about everything, and flew into sad passions if any one dared to reprove
them. So the little boys were more unhappy than ever when they were told
that their father was to marry the Princess, and these disagreeable
girls were to be their half-sisters.
There was a splendid wedding, and the bells rang, and the trumpets
sounded, and every one feasted and danced; for the fountains were filled
with wine, and tables were spread in the market-place, so that all the
poor people could have a good time as well as the rich. The new Queen
was very anxious to please her subjects, and made things so gay that at
first every one praised her; and the King gladly let her rule, as it
left him quiet with his books and bottles. Now the little girls were
prouder than ever, and shone like the sun in their fine new gowns. But
the Princes would not change their purple velvet suits, though they put
on gold belts and set jonquils in their caps in honor of the Queen. They
tried to enjoy the gayety, but soon found that they were neglected by
every one; for people saw who was to have the power, and hastened to
pet and flatter the young Princesses in order to please their mother.
She showed how she meant to rule the first time she took the throne; for
the King was not there, and she sat alone in her cloth-of-gold robes
very splendid to see. She put her daughters one at each side on the
green satin chairs set for the Princes, and ordered the poor boys to
share her footstool between them.
Some people were very angry at this, and told the King. But he only
said: "Don't trouble me. Her Majesty will do as she thinks best; and my
sons will obey her as if they were her own." So nothing could be done;
and the gentle boys sat at the Queen's feet, while the vain little girls
rustled and smiled and tossed their heads on the high seats where they
did not belong.