FAIRY HOUSEKEEPING.
'Neat, like bees, as sweet and busy,
. . . . . .
Aired and set to rights the house;
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat--
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat.'
_Goblin Market._
The next few days passed rather slowly for the children. There was no
talk of another expedition to the woods. And they had a good many
lessons to do, so that short walks in the grounds close round the castle
were all they had time for. They only saw the old doctor at meal-times,
but he always smiled at them, as if to assure them he was not forgetting
them, and to encourage them to patience.
There was one person who certainly did not regret the children's not
returning to the woods, and that person was Nanni. What she had heard
from the servants about the mysterious cottage had thoroughly
frightened her; she felt sure that if they went there again something
dreadful would happen to them, and yet she was so devoted to them that,
however terrified, she would never have thought of not following them
wherever they chose to go. But, as day after day went by, and no more
was said about it, she began to breathe freely. Her distress was
therefore the greater when, one afternoon just six days after the last
ramble, Rollo and Maia rushed upstairs after their lessons in the
wildest spirits.
'Hurrah for the doctor!' shouted Rollo, and Maia was on the point of
joining him, till she remembered that if they made such a noise Lady
Venelda would be sending up to know what was the matter.
'We're to have a whole holiday to-morrow, Nanni,' they explained, 'and
we're going to spend it in the woods. You're to come with us, and carry
something in a basket for us to eat.'
'Very well, Miss Maia,' replied Nanni, prudently refraining from
mentioning the cottage, in hopes that they had forgotten about it, 'that
will be very nice, especially if it is a fine day, but if not, of course
you would not go.'
'I don't know that,' said Rollo mischievously; 'green frogs don't mind
rain.'
'Nor blue birds,' added Maia. 'They could fly away if they did.'
At these fateful words poor Nanni grew deadly pale. 'Oh, my children,'
she cried; 'oh, Master Rollo and Miss Maia, don't, I beg of you, joke
about such things. And oh, I entreat you, don't go looking for that
witch's cottage. Unless you promise me you won't, I shall have to go and
tell my Lady, however angry she is!'
'No such thing, my good girl,' said a voice at the door. 'You needn't
trouble your head about such nonsense. Rollo and Maia will go nowhere
where they can get any harm. I know everything about the woods better
than you or those silly servants downstairs. Lady Venelda would only
tell you not to interfere with what didn't concern you if you went
saying anything to her. Go off to the woods with your little master and
mistress without misgiving, my good girl, and if the air makes you
sleepy don't be afraid to take a nap. No harm will come to you or the
children.'
Nanni stood still in astonishment--the tears in her eyes and her mouth
wide open, staring at the old doctor, for it was he, of course, who had
followed the children upstairs and overheard her remonstrances. She
looked so comical that Rollo and Maia could scarcely help laughing at
her, as at last she found voice to speak.
'Of course if the learned doctor approves I have nothing to say,' she
said submissively; though she could not help adding, 'and I only hope no
harm will come of it.'
Rollo and Maia flew to the doctor.
'Oh, that's right!' they exclaimed. 'We are so glad you have spoken to
that stupid Nanni. She believes all the rubbish the servants here
speak.'
The doctor turned to Nanni again.
'Don't be afraid,' he repeated. 'All will be right, you will see. But
take my advice, do not say anything to the servants here about the
amusements of your little master and mistress. Least said soonest
mended. It would annoy Lady Venelda for it to be supposed they were
allowed to go where any harm could befall them.'
'Very well, sir,' replied Nanni, meekly enough, though she still looked
rather depressed. She could not help remembering that before he left,
old Marc, too, had warned her against too much chattering.
The next morning broke fine and bright. The children started in the
greatest spirits, which even Nanni, laden with a basket of provisions
for their dinner, could not altogether resist. And before they went,
Lady Venelda called them into her boudoir, and kissing them, wished them
a happy holiday.
'It's all that nice old doctor,' said Maia. 'You see, Rollo, she hasn't
told us not to go to the cottage--he's put it all right, I'm sure.'
'Yes, I expect so,' Rollo agreed; and then in a minute or two he added:
'Do you know, Maia, though of course I don't believe in witches turning
people into green frogs, or any of that nonsense, I do think there's
_something_ funny about that cottage.'
'What sort of something? What do you mean?' asked Maia, looking
intensely interested. 'Do you mean something to do with fairies?'
'I don't know--I'm not sure. But we'll see,' said Rollo.
'If we can find it!' said Maia.
'I'm _sure_ we shall find it. It's just because of that that I think
there's something queer. It must be true that some people can't find
it.'
'Naughty people?' asked Maia apprehensively. 'For you know, Rollo, we're
not always _quite_ good.'
'No, I don't mean naughty people. I mean more people who don't care
about fairies and wood-spirits, and things like that--people who call
all that nonsense and rubbish.'
'I see,' said Maia; 'perhaps you're right, Rollo. Well, any way, that
won't stop _us_ finding it, for we certainly do care _dreadfully_ about
fairy things, don't we, Rollo? But what about Nanni?' she went on, for
Nanni was some steps behind, and had not heard what they were saying.
'Oh, as to Nanni,' said Rollo coolly, 'I shouldn't wonder if she took a
nap again, as the old doctor said. Any way, she can't interfere with us
after _his_ giving us leave to go wherever we liked.'
They stopped a little to give Nanni time to come up to them, and Rollo
offered to help her to carry the basket. It was not heavy, she replied,
she could carry it quite well alone, but she still looked rather
depressed in spirits, so the children walked beside her, talking merrily
of the dinner in the woods they were going to have, so that by degrees
Nanni forgot her fears of the mysterious cottage, and thought no more
about it.
It was even a more beautiful day than the one, now nearly a week ago, on
which they had first visited the woods. There was more sunshine to-day,
and the season was every day farther advancing; the lovely little new
green tips were beginning to peep out among the darker green which had
already stood the wear and tear of a bitter winter and many a frosty
blast.
'How pretty the fir-trees look!' said Maia. 'They don't seem the least
dim or gloomy in the sunshine, even though it only gets to them in
little bits. See there, Rollo,' she exclaimed, pointing to one which got
more than its share of the capricious gilding. 'Doesn't it look like a
_real_ Christmas-tree?'
'Like a lighted-up one, you mean,' said Rollo. 'It would be a very nice
Christmas-tree for a family of giants, and if I could climb up so high,
I'd be just about the right size for the angel at the top. Let's spread
our table at the foot of this tree--it looks so nice and dry. I'm sure,
Nanni,' he went on, 'you'll be glad to get rid of your basket.'
'It's not heavy, Master Rollo,' said Nanni; 'but, all the same, it _is_
queer how the minute I get into these woods I begin to be so
sleepy--you'd hardly believe it.'
Rollo and Maia looked at each other with a smile, but they said nothing.
'We'd better have our dinner any way,' observed Rollo, kneeling down to
unfasten the basket, of which the contents proved very good indeed.
'What fun it is, isn't it?' said Maia, when they had eaten nearly as
much cold chicken and bread, and cakes and fruit as they wanted. 'What
fun it is to be able to do just as we like, and say just what we like,
instead of having to sit straight up in our chairs like two dolls, and
only speak when we're spoken to, and all that--how nice it would be if
we could have our dinner in the woods every day!'
'We'd get tired of it after a while, I expect,' said Rollo. 'It wouldn't
be nice in cold weather, or if it rained.'
'_I_ wouldn't mind,' said Maia. 'I'd build a warm little hut and cover
it over with moss. We'd live like the squirrels.'
'How do you know how the squirrels live?' said Rollo.
But Maia did not answer him. Her ideas by this time were off on another
flight--the thought of a little hut had reminded her of the cottage.
'I want to go farther into the wood,' she said, jumping up. 'Come,
Rollo, let's go and explore a little. Nanni, you can stay here and pack
up the basket again, can't you?'
'Then you won't be long, Miss Maia,' began Nanni, rather dolefully. 'You
won't----'
'We won't get turned into green frogs, if that's what you're thinking
of, Nanni,' interrupted Rollo. 'Do remember what the old doctor said,
and don't worry yourself. We shall come to no harm. And as you're so
sleepy, why shouldn't you take a nap as you did the other day? Perhaps
you'll dream of the beautiful lady again.'
Nanni looked but half convinced.
'It's not _my_ fault, any way,' she said. 'I've done all I could. I may
as well stay here, for I know you like better to wander about by
yourselves. But I'm not going to sleep--you needn't laugh, Master Rollo,
I've brought my knitting with me on purpose,' and she drew out a half
stocking and ball of worsted with great satisfaction.
The children set off. They were not sure in what direction lay the
cottage, for they had got confused in their directions, but they had a
vague idea that by continuing upwards, for they were still on sloping
ground, they would come to the level space where they had seen the smoke
of the burning leaves. They were not mistaken, for they had walked but a
very few minutes when the ground ceased to ascend, and looking round
they felt sure that they recognised the look of the trees near the
cottage.
'This way, Rollo, I am sure,' said Maia, darting forward. She was
right--in another moment they came out of the woods just at the side of
the cottage. It looked just the same as before, except that no fire was
burning outside, and instead, a thin column of smoke rose gently from
the little chimney. The gate of the little garden was also open, as if
inviting them to enter.
'They must be at home, whoever they are,' said Rollo. 'There is a fire
in the kitchen, you see, Maia.'
Maia grew rather pale. Now that they were actually on the spot, she
began to feel afraid, though of what she scarcely knew. Nanni's queer
hints came back to her mind, and she caught hold of Rollo's arm,
trembling.
'Oh, Rollo,' she exclaimed, 'suppose it's true? About the witch, I
mean--or suppose they have found out about the milk and are very angry?'
'Well, we can't help it if they are,' replied Rollo sturdily. 'We've
done the best thing we could in coming back to pay for it. You've got
the little purse, Maia?'
'Oh, yes, it's safe in my pocket,' she said. 'But----'
She stopped, for just at that moment the door of the cottage opened and
a figure came forward. It was no 'old witch,' no ogre or goblin, but a
young girl--a little older than Maia she seemed--who stood there with a
sweet, though rather grave expression on her face and in her soft dark
eyes, as she said gently, 'Welcome--we have been expecting you.'
'Expecting us?' exclaimed Maia, who generally found her voice more
quickly than Rollo; 'how can you have been expecting us?'
She had stepped forward a step or two before her brother, and now stood
looking up in the girl's face with wonder in her bright blue eyes, while
she tossed back the long fair curls that fell round her head. Boys are
not very observant, but Rollo could not help noticing the pretty picture
the two made. The peasant maiden with her dark plaits and brown
complexion, dressed in a short red skirt, and little loose white bodice
fastened round the waist with a leather belt, and Maia with a rather
primly-cut frock and frilled tippet of flowered chintz, such as children
then often wore, and large flapping shady hat.
'How can you have been expecting us?' Maia repeated.
Rollo came forward in great curiosity to hear the answer.
The girl smiled.
'Ah!' she said, 'there are more ways than one of knowing many things
that are to come. Waldo heard you had arrived at the white castle, and
my godmother had already told us of you. Then we found the milk gone,
and----'
Rollo interrupted this time. 'We were so vexed,' he said, 'not to be
able to explain about it. We have wanted to come every day since to----'
'To pay for it,' he was going to say, but something in the girl's face
made him hesitate.
'Not to pay for it,' she said quickly, though smiling again, as if she
read his words in his face; 'don't say that. We were so glad it was
there for you. Besides, it is not ours--Waldo and I would have nothing
but for our godmother. But come in--come in--Waldo is only gone to fetch
some brushwood, and our godmother, too, will be here soon.'
Too surprised to ask questions--indeed, there seemed so many to ask that
they would not have known where to begin--Rollo and Maia followed the
girl into the little kitchen. It looked just as neat and dainty as the
other day--and brighter too, for a charming little fire was burning in
the grate, and a pleasant smell of freshly-roasted coffee was faintly
perceived. The table was set out as before, but with the addition of a
plate of crisp-looking little cakes or biscuits, and in place of _two_
small cups and saucers there were _four_, as well as the larger one the
children had seen before. This was too much for Maia to behold in
silence. She stopped short, and stared in still greater amazement.
'Why!' she exclaimed. 'You don't mean to say--why, just fancy, I don't
even know your name.'
'Silva,' replied the girl quietly, but with an amused little smile on
her face.
'Silva,' continued Maia, 'you _don't_ mean to say that you've put out
those two cups for _us_--that you knew we'd come.'
'Godmother did,' said Silva. 'She told us yesterday. So we've been very
busy to get all our work done, and have a nice holiday afternoon. Waldo
has nothing more to do after he's brought in the wood, and I baked those
little cakes this morning and roasted the coffee. Godmother told us to
have it ready early, so that there'll be plenty of time before you have
to go. Oh, here's Waldo!' she exclaimed joyfully.
Rollo and Maia turned round. There, in the doorway stood a boy, his cap
in his hand, a pleasant smile on his bright ruddy face.
'Welcome, my friends,' he said, with a kind of gravity despite his
smile.
He was such a nice-looking boy--just about as much bigger than Rollo as
Silva was bigger than Maia. You could have told at once that they were
brother and sister--there was the same bright and yet serious expression
in their eyes; the same healthy, ruddy complexion; the same erect
carriage and careless grace in Waldo in his forester's clothes as in
Silva with her pretty though simple peasant maiden dress. They looked
what they were, true children of the beautiful woods.
'Thank you,' said Rollo and Maia, after a moment's hesitation. They did
not know what else to say. Silva glanced at them. She seemed to have a
curious power of reading in their faces the thoughts that were passing
in their minds.
'Don't think it strange,' she said quickly, 'that Waldo calls you thus
"my friends," and that we both speak to you as if we had known you for
long. We know we are not the same as you--in the world, I mean, we could
not be as we are here with you, but this is not the world,' and here
she smiled again--the strange, bright, and yet somehow rather sad smile
which made her face so sweet--'and so we need not think about it.
Godmother said it was best only to remember that we are just four
children together, and when you see her you will feel that what she says
is always best.'
'We don't need to see her to feel that we like you to call us your
friends,' exclaimed Rollo and Maia together. The words came from their
hearts, and yet somehow they felt surprised at being able to say them so
readily. Rollo held out his hand to Waldo, who shook it heartily, and
little Maia going close up to Silva said softly, 'Kiss me, please, dear
Silva.'
And thus the friendship was begun.
The first effect of this seemed to be the setting loose of Maia's
tongue.
'There are so many things I want to ask you,' she began. 'May I? Do you
and Waldo live here alone, and have you always lived here? And does your
godmother live here, for the other day when we went all over the cottage
we only saw two little beds, and two little of everything, except the
big chair and the big cup and saucer. And what----'
Here Rollo interrupted her.
'Maia,' he said, 'you really shouldn't talk so fast. Silva could not
answer all those questions at once if she wanted; and perhaps she
doesn't want to answer them all. It's rude to ask so much.'
Maia looked up innocently into Silva's face.
'I didn't mean to be rude,' she said, 'only you see I can't help
wondering.'
'We don't mind your asking anything you like,' Silva replied. 'But I
don't think I _can_ tell you all you want to know. You'll get to see for
yourself. Waldo and I have lived here a long time, but not _always_!'
'But your godmother,' went on Maia; 'I do so want to know about her.
Does _she_ live here? Is it she that the people about call a witch?'
Maia lowered her voice a little at the last word, and looked up at Rollo
apprehensively. Would not he think speaking of witches still ruder than
asking questions? But Silva did not seem to mind.
'I dare say they do,' she said quietly. 'They don't know her, you see. I
don't think she would care if they did call her a witch. But now the
coffee is ready,' for she had been going on with her preparations
meanwhile, 'will you sit round the table?'
'We are not very hungry,' said Rollo, 'for we had our dinner in the
wood. But the coffee smells so good,' and he drew in his chair as he
spoke. Maia, however, hesitated.
'Would it not be more polite, perhaps,' she said to Silva, 'to wait a
little for your godmother? You said she would be coming soon.'
'She doesn't like us to wait for her,' said Silva. 'We always put her
place ready, for sometimes she comes and sometimes she doesn't--we never
know. But she says it is best just to go on regularly, and then we need
not lose any time.'
'I don't think I should like that way,' said Maia. 'Would you, Rollo? If
father was coming to see us, I would like to know it quite settledly
ever so long before, and plan all about it.'
'But it isn't quite the same,' said Silva. 'Your father is far away. Our
godmother is never very far away--it is just a nice feeling that she may
come any time, like the sunshine or the wind.'
'Well, perhaps it is,' said Maia. 'I dare say I shall understand when
I've seen her. How very good this coffee is, Silva, and the little
cakes! Did your godmother teach you to make them so nice?'
'Not exactly,' said Silva; 'but she made me like doing things well. She
made me see how pretty it is to do things rightly--_quite_ rightly, just
as they should be.'
'And do you always do things that way?' exclaimed Maia, very much
impressed. '_I_ don't; I'm very often dreadfully untidy, and sometimes
my exercise-books are full of blots and mistakes. I wish I had had your
godmother to teach me, Silva.'
'Well, you're going to have her now. She teaches without one knowing it.
But _I'm_ not perfect, nor is Waldo! Indeed we're not--and if we thought
we were it would show we weren't.'
'Besides,' said Waldo, 'all the things we have to do are very simple and
easy. We don't know anything about the world, and all we should have to
do and learn if we lived there.'
'Should you like to live there?' asked Maia. Both Waldo and Silva
hesitated. Then both, with the grave expression in their eyes that came
there sometimes, replied, 'I don't know;' but Waldo in a moment or two
added, 'If it had to be, it would be right to like it.'
'Yes,' said Silva quietly. But something in their tone made both Rollo
and Maia feel puzzled.
'I do believe you're both half fairies,' exclaimed Maia with a little
impatience; 'I can't make you out at all.'
Rollo felt the same, though, being more considerate than his little
sister, he did not like to express his feelings so freely. But Waldo and
Silva only laughed merrily.
'No, no, indeed we're not,' they said more than once, but Maia did not
seem convinced by any means, and she was going on to maintain that no
children who _weren't_ half fairies could live like that by themselves
and manage everything so beautifully, when a slight noise at the door
and a sudden look of pleasure on Silva's face made her stop short and
look round.
'Here she is,' exclaimed Waldo and Silva together. 'Oh, godmother,
darling, we are so glad. And they have come, Rollo and Maia have come,
just as you said.'
And thus saying they sprang forward. Their godmother stooped and kissed
both on the forehead.
'Dear children,' she said, and then she turned to the two strangers, who
were gazing at her with all their eyes.
'_Can_ it be she the silly people about call a witch?' Maia was saying
to herself. 'It _might_ be, and yet I don't know. _Could_ any one call
her a witch?'
She was old--of that there was no doubt, at least so it seemed at the
first glance. Her hair was perfectly white, her face was very pale. But
her eyes were the most wonderful thing about her. Maia could not tell
what colour they were. They seemed to change with every word she said,
with every new look that came over her face. Old as she was they were
very bright and beautiful, very soft and sweet too, though not the sort
of eyes--Maia said afterwards to Rollo--'that I would like to look at me
if I had been naughty.' Godmother was not tall; when she first came into
the little kitchen she seemed to stoop a little, and did not look much
bigger than Silva. And she was all covered over with a dark green cloak,
almost the colour of the darkest of the foliage of the fir-trees.
'One would hardly see her if she were walking about the woods,' thought
Maia, 'except that her face and hair are so white, they would gleam out
like snow.'