The Flying-Fish announces the hour of three, and the World
falls asleep: The Hen makes six hard-boiled eggs: Smaly and
Redy begin to read the manuscript of the Historian.
Smaly and Redy found themselves in a room that was rather dark in spite
of the fact that the sun was still high in the heavens. There were only
four windows, one placed so low down that the Wigs, even when seated,
could observe what passed. Another, very little higher, was for the Wigs
to look out of when they were standing on their short legs. These two
windows had already been in existence when the Government of the country
offered the house to the Historian to enable him to write the chronicles
of the inhabitants.
The Historian put in an indent asking for two more windows, and
succeeded in obtaining them. The first of the new windows was put
alongside the old one, which had been for the use of the Wigs standing;
but this new window was for the Historian when he was sitting down, as
he was twice the height of an ordinary Wig. The fourth window was set
very high to allow of the Historian looking out on the market square as
he walked about.
It will be seen what bright ideas this Historian had; but the result of
one of his brightest was to be seen in the ceiling, where there were two
circular holes, one much bigger than the other.
[Illustration: THE PET FLYING-FISH, WHICH EVERY WIG FAMILY POSSESSES AND
CHERISHES]
The big hole had been there for a long time and had been made to allow
of free exit and entry to the pet Flying-Fish, which every Wig family
possesses and cherishes, much as you or I cherish a dog or a cat; but
when some one made the Historian a present of another and much younger
Flying-Fish, he at once caused a smaller hole to be made so that his new
pet also could come in and out as it pleased.
Redy and Smaly found the Historian sitting in a corner of his room
studying a piece of paper through a telescope, and taking notes as to
what he saw. The little husband and wife shut the door gently behind
them and remained very quiet. They were quite alone with this curious
and enormous being, who took no more notice of them than if they had
been a couple of mice.
It was the first time that Redy and Smaly had seen the interior of a Wig
house, and they found it resembled nothing so much as the laboratory of
an alchemist or astronomer. The thing Smaly and Redy admired most was a
large globe upon which all the Wig possessions were painted in red.
[Illustration: THE AMOUNT OF CAKE AND PUDDING EATEN ANNUALLY IN THE
COUNTRY]
At first they were very astonished to see how big the Wigs' country
appeared to be; but after a little study Smaly suggested that the areas
covered in red must represent the importance morally and mentally of
the country rather than its geographical area, and this Redy agreed
with, for she had found ranged in a row beside the globe a lot of little
painted cardboard figures of different sizes representing the amount of
cake and pudding eaten annually in the countries represented by these
little figures; which were the Wigs' country, Parseny's Land, England,
France, Italy, and Belgium, and the Wigs' country was the biggest of the
lot.
[Illustration: The Elder of the Fishes]
* * * * *
While the little husband and wife were discussing this in low voices so
as not to disturb the Historian, the elder of the Fishes flew in. With
great difficulty it scraped through the small hole instead of its own.
It flew to its perch, and announced in a clear voice:
"Three o'clock has struck."
It said these words to a Hen who was sitting upon a coal-scuttle,
busily making little white and yellow pasties.
[Illustration: THE HEN]
Having made this announcement the Fish pulled down its eyelids with its
left paw, buried its nose in a nightcap, wrapped its wings round its
head, and went to sleep. The Hen seemed very agitated by the Fish's
words, and began to work harder than ever.
She wore a peruke like all the Wigs, and an infinite number of skirts
made of butter muslin. She looked at the clock, for the big hand had
stopped at two, whereas the little hand was at the hour of three. While
she gazed at it the left foot of the Historian shot out and brought the
little hand round to six o'clock.
At once the Hen started rolling out six yellow balls upon her
pasteboard. These she wrapped up in a white crust and then hid them in
the pockets of her skirts and sat upon them, while she made fourteen
more eggs out of the white and yellow paste.
"The little hand must be to ask for six hard-boiled eggs," whispered
Redy to Smaly.
At that moment Smaly, who was staring out of the window, nudged Redy,
and looking out together they saw that the Wigs, who had been busily
rebuilding the kitchen, had all fallen asleep in the market square
because three o'clock was the hour of the afternoon's rest. The
Confectioner, his hair streaming in the wind, was running hard towards
his own house. He held by the hand Fritilla, the youngest of the
Prisoner's daughters, whose big eyes were looking all about her as she
ran. The Confectioner pushed her rapidly into his house and shut the
door upon her, then he, too, fell asleep in the square like the other
Wigs. This care which the Confectioner took of Fritilla was by no means
unnecessary, as for several days she had been pursued by an enormous red
Flying-Fish which declared that she had stolen from it its seven hundred
and eighty-secondth feather. It declared that it had seen the plume
actually in her hands, and that when it had gone home and counted its
feathers over before going to sleep that night it only possessed seven
hundred and eighty-one.
[Illustration: THIS CARE WHICH THE CONFECTIONER TOOK OF FRITILLA WAS BY
NO MEANS UNNECESSARY]
* * * * *
The smaller Flying-Fish now flew into the Historian's room, using its
own little hole. It hated using this; but it seemed an even greater
humiliation to use the big one, for that made the poor little Fish feel
smaller than ever. Thus it came about that neither the big nor the
little Flying-Fish ever used the larger hole, which had become all
overgrown with delicate mosses and stonecrop, and even by a fine yellow
wallflower. The windows in this country, if people did not look through
them often enough, became almost opaque.
[Illustration: The Smaller Flying-Fish]
The little Flying-Fish seated itself on its perch, and called out:
"It's nearly half-past three. We must rest. Everybody must rest. Let's
go to sleep." And it, too, pulled down its eyelids with its left paw,
buried its nose in a nightcap, and wrapped its wings round its head.
The Historian stretched out a hand, took the six hard-boiled eggs from
the Hen, dropped them through a hole in his beak, put the hand of the
clock back to zero, then he, too, shut his eyes.
"He sleeps," murmured Smaly and Redy.
* * * * *
Smaly tiptoed across to the Historian.
[Illustration: DROPPED THEM THROUGH A HOLE IN HIS BEAK]
He was a curious sort of man, extremely thin, his face dominated rather
than adorned by an immense beak, which apparently he could not open; and
he had little twinkling eyes like an elephant's, which twinkled even
more when they were shut than when they were open. He wore a sort of
wrapper, trimmed with fur round the neck, sleeves, and legs. Neither
Redy nor Smaly could quite decide what the Historian was made of,
whether of Manchester pudding, of pie-crust, or gingerbread, and they
did not dare try and taste him for fear of waking him up.
[Illustration: WAS SITTING WITH ONE ANKLE ACROSS THE KNEE OF HIS OTHER
LEG]
The Historian was sitting with one ankle across the knee of his other
leg, and had rolled round his thin calf the manuscript upon which he had
been working. This manuscript was trained to roll itself up slowly round
his leg whilst he wrote it.
Smaly looked carefully all round him. The Hen was sleeping, the two Fish
slept also, the Historian slept profoundly without snoring. He had
always wanted to be able to snore; but he could never succeed because of
his beak, and therefore he had invented a sort of little suction-pump
run by a motor, which he kept beside him, and which snored quite as well
as a man.
Except Smaly and Redy every one was sleeping in the house of the
Historian. Outside in the sun-baked square the Chief Contractor, the
Confectioner, Mistigris, the Young Stork, and the Crow slept also,
heaped one upon the other in a casual manner, only the Despoiler, who
was always afraid that some one would find out that he was only made of
cardboard, never slept in public. He always retired to rest in a little
room under the roof of his house.
When Smaly had made quite sure that there was no one to see them, he
took Redy by the hand and began gently to unroll the Historian's
manuscript. Smaly and Redy began to read it to each other in low voices,
word by word, like children who go upstairs one leg at a time. This is
what they read:
[Illustration: THE DESPOILER, WHO WAS ALWAYS AFRAID THAT SOME ONE WOULD
FIND OUT THAT HE WAS ONLY MADE OF CARDBOARD, NEVER SLEPT IN PUBLIC]
"Thursday, half-past three.
"All buildings except the cherry-tart destroyed in the market square.
"The Prisoner crossed the river while it was dry.
"Rolled across the park of chocolate-moulds, crushing everything beneath
him.
"He then rolled on over the great kitchen, which was happily empty.
"(The two little people made of suet have been shut in with me.)
"Up past the public square, and the two little people tried to talk to
him.
"The Rats worked hard at keeping the prison together; but there are
cries everywhere.
"Every one is calling out 'The Prisoner is coming.'"
"How annoying this is," said Redy, "we're reading it backwards."
"Annoying," said a deep voice which came from the closed beak of the
Historian. He had forgotten that he was asleep, and lifting up his foot
he kicked the two inquisitive little people to the other end of the
room.
But the sight of the Flying-Fish and the Hen sleeping reminded him that
he, too, was not really awake, so he closed his eyes and did not move
again.
Smaly was able to go on unrolling the whole of the manuscript.