The elder Flying Fish loses one eye, and the Hen finds it:
The Historian wakes up, and Smaly and Redy run out of the
house: The Healer mends the paw of the Confectioner.
The Flying-Fish upon their perches now began to shake their wings and
then their paws, and last of all their heads.
"Are we really awake?" asked the elder Flying-Fish of the younger.
"It seems to me that we are more or less shaken up," replied the little
Flying-Fish.
The two Fish prepared themselves to fly forthwith once more upon their
arduous duties, for the Flying-Fish in this country act as sentinels and
look-out men, and also cry the hours publicly.
Just as they were about to set off the little Flying-Fish noticed that
the other had lost an eye.
"That must have been when I shook my head," exclaimed the elder
Flying-Fish with conviction, and both flew down on to the floor to look
for the missing eye. The Hen joined them in their search, and as she
fluttered down she managed to upset a glass retort from which an
opalescent vapour began to escape.
Soon the whole laboratory was filled with this vapour in layer upon
layer of different colours, from deep rose at the base up through violet
and pale green to a layer of no colour at all, which was succeeded by a
layer of blue.
Through the vapour Smaly and Redy could hear that the Fish and the Hen
were continuing their search for the lost eye. Sometimes they were quite
near the two little people, although no one could see any one else.
It was the Hen who finally discovered the lost eye.
"Why, it's still shut," said the younger Fish to the elder.
"Doubtless it must have fallen out before I had really shaken myself
awake," replied the elder.
Taking the eye from the hands of the Hen, the Fish held it in its cupped
paws to shake it, as one shakes a coin, to see whether it will come down
heads or tails. When it had been well shaken the eye was open.
The little Fish took the eye and replaced it in the elder Fish's head;
then they both flew out, making a buzzing noise like gigantic
bluebottles.
* * * * *
The layers of coloured vapour now began to twirl about and mix like
wreaths of steam, and once again various objects in the room became
visible. The Hen saw that the big toes of the Historian had begun to
move, and knowing that these signs of wakefulness would presently mount
as far as his head, she hastened back to her little pots of white and
yellow paste.
Indeed, the Historian was already almost awake; he had put down his hand
and stopped the little snoring machine.
Smaly and Redy joined hands and ran out of the door.
* * * * *
Directly they appeared in the square the Wigs seized hold of them and
ran them into the kitchen once more, which by now had been built up
again. Smaly and Redy began to hope that the evening was not far off,
for they were becoming more and more anxious to see the three girls.
They opened their mouths and began their little chant:
We wish to have three girls,
Fine, sweet----
But at this moment Redy noticed that the sun had not moved during all
the hours of the siesta. Nobody had explained to them that since all the
Wigs had been asleep the sun had naturally thought it would be
ill-mannered to continue his advance.
* * * * *
Redy and Smaly stood alone in the kitchen wondering what to do, when the
door opened and a middle-sized man walked in, saying in a severe voice:
"Where the dickens have those idiots got to?"
[Illustration: THE HEALER]
Smaly hid himself behind Redy, and Redy hid herself behind a large
plant, which grew in one of the ornamental vases at the side of the
Chief Contractor's throne.
[Illustration: BORN WITH THE IDEA OF ONE DAY BEING A VERY BIG MAN]
The man who came in had evidently been born with the idea of one day
being a very big man. But he had been destined by his parents to become
a great Healer, and as soon as he had discovered this it occurred to him
that it would be better to be merely of medium height, so that he did
not have to make his back ache bending over the beds of sick people.
Therefore he at once left off growing, excepting in girth; and since he
always wished to ride about the country it was obvious that he did not
want his legs to be too strong, therefore he had small legs, enormous
shoulders, a hump both back and front, and a large stomach.
The Healer was accompanied by a page made in the shape of a drum. This
drum, besides having the head of a page and two solid little legs
mounted upon roller-skates, was hung about with an immense number of
instruments, with tubes of gum, sealing-wax, and candles. In one of his
hands he carried a funnel made of fish-glue, down which he poured
medicine into the mouths of sick people.
In the other he had a corkscrew for pulling out bad teeth.
"It's simply freezing in this horrible kitchen," said the Healer,
looking about him. "Where on earth have they got to?" Then turning to
the page he added: "Fetch my cloak out of the right-hand pannier."
He gave a shove to the drum, which skated off to the door where two
donkeys stood side by side. One donkey could certainly never have
supported the Healer, therefore he had to have two, and between them was
fastened a comfortable arm-chair. The page came back trailing a large
cloak behind him, made of the leaves of aromatic herbs.
When the Healer had put it on he looked like a mound entirely covered
with ivy. The bag which he carried slung on his right-hand side was
almost hidden by his cloak, so was that on his left.
Upon one of these, which contained little bottles and boxes, one could
just read the word "Medicines," and upon the other "Rewards to be taken
after medicine."
* * * * *
The Healer continued to call out "Where are they, where are they?"
gazing everywhere through his large single eyeglass, which was so big he
could look through it with both eyes at once.
[Illustration: BETWEEN THEM WAS FASTENED A COMFORTABLE ARM-CHAIR]
He drew near to the plant behind which Smaly and Redy were hiding, and
just as it seemed as though he must discover them, they managed to hide
themselves beneath the folds of his cloak. They were only just in time.
* * * * *
The Chief Contractor, the Crow, and the Despoiler, followed by several
Wigs, now came in.
"Where are they?" cried the Healer, turning towards them.
"Here is the first of them," answered the Chief Contractor, pointing to
the Confectioner, who was being supported by Mistigris and Papylick; and
Smaly and Redy, peeping out from beneath the cloak, began to understand
that the Healer was not searching for them, but for sick people.
"Dear me. It's his paw that's hurt," said the Healer, and indeed this
was not difficult to see, for the Stork had already laid down upon the
table the broken paw of the Confectioner.
The Healer lit a candle, took his sealing-wax, and set to work.
* * * * *
Outside an agitated crowd had assembled.
Every one seemed to be crying and wailing.
Already in the crowd there were newsboys selling accounts of the latest
disaster to the Wigs.
In the great square hundreds of frenzied people, at the risk of losing
their shoes or their heads, danced frantically round and round.
"What misery, what misery," murmured every one in the kitchen, gazing at
the mask called "Supreme Sorrow," which the Chief Contractor had placed
over his face.
[Illustration: THERE WERE NEWSBOYS SELLING ACCOUNTS OF THE LATEST
DISASTER TO THE WIGS]
"Who on earth will rebuild the market square?" muttered the Young Stork,
gently closing up with his nail some little holes which he had
discovered in the back of the Despoiler.
[Illustration: THE HEALER HAD FINISHED HIS MENDING]
"Well, in the first place, who is going to draw the plans?" asked the
Despoiler.
"We don't need any plans," answered Papylick.
"They will draw the plans after they have put up the building," remarked
the Crow in a low voice to Smaly, whom he had discovered under the
Healer's cloak.
"If they have any plans they can quite well build up all the tarts and
puddings in the square again."
"The plans have all been burnt," announced the Chief Contractor.
"But in the first place no one knows whether the plans or the buildings
were made first," objected the Crow.
No one had anything to say to this, so every one remained silent, sunk
in the deepest perplexity. Papylick at last suggested that they should
ask the advice of the Mother of the Crow.
By this time the Healer had finished his mending.
The Confectioner, placing his hand against his mother-of-pearl forehead,
murmured, "I have a pain there."
"That must be the fever," said the Despoiler.
"Fever?" demanded the Healer sharply. "How can there be fever when I
have glued his paw on again? He hasn't got fever at all. It's worrying
that's given him a headache. What Wig worthy of the name is not worrying
at this moment when such a grave and terrible problem lies before us."