_Which Explains who is Inside the Grey Pumpkin_
“Long ago,” began Old Nancy, gazing dreamily into the fire, “a great
King ruled over this country who had an only daughter to whom he was
passionately attached. She was a sweet, frail little creature—very
delicate. In spite of all the care and attention bestowed upon her, she
grew no stronger; indeed, as time passed, she seemed to grow weaker
and weaker, until at length it became obvious to all that the Princess
was dying. The King was in despair. All that love, money, doctors, and
nurses could do for her was done—but all in vain.
“Then, one evening, someone found a shabby old book at the back of a
shelf in the Royal Library. To whom it belonged and how it got there
no one seemed to know, but anyway, the book proved of priceless value
as it contained a remarkable recipe for curing just such an illness
as the Princess was suffering from. I need not tell you all about this
recipe now: it is sufficient that one of the most important items
was—pumpkin juice. Needless to say, the King seized eagerly at any
chance to save his daughter’s life, and so all the pumpkins available
were quickly purchased and the recipe made up, and a dose of this
new cure was given to the Princess. From the very first dose there
was a marked change for the better, and with perseverance this new
remedy gradually worked wonders in the Princess; she grew stronger and
stronger and was soon on the road to a complete recovery.
“And then——
“But first you must know that in order to have plenty of pumpkins on
hand to complete the cure, the delighted King had a special garden
made in which to grow nothing but pumpkins; and he employed a special
staff of gardeners to look after this garden. And every day he would
go to the garden himself to see how the pumpkins were getting on. One
night, a fearful storm swept over the country; and while the thunder
growled and the lightning flashed and the wind and rain struggled for
mastery—some strange things were taking place down in the pumpkin
garden. For when morning broke—there was not a single pumpkin left in
the garden: nor in the whole of the country, apparently. But it was
not the storm that had destroyed them all. Under cover of the black
night and the storm somebody had come and had deliberately cut off the
pumpkins, and destroyed them.
“Now this somebody—although he was not discovered for days
afterward—was an evil little dwarf man, who imagined that he owed the
King a grudge—and sought to punish him this way.
“Nor was this all. When the Princess’s nurse went to fetch her
medicine—there was none left. All the bottles were smashed to pieces
and the precious liquid was spilled all over the floor.
“The King was terribly upset, and sent messengers far and wide, post
haste, to try to get some more pumpkins. But they could not get any.
And from that time, as each hour passed, the Princess began to decline
again. She got steadily worse, and weaker and weaker as days went by.
You can imagine what grief it must have been to her father to see her
losing her newly-gained health, to see her cheeks growing pale and
thin again—to see her gradually fading away. He made every attempt
possible to get hold of a pumpkin—but it seemed as if all the pumpkins
in the land had suddenly vanished.
“At length the Princess lay at death’s door; the doctors gravely shook
their heads at each other; while the King paced ceaselessly up and down
the corridor outside her room. He was waiting thus, torn with anxiety
and suspense, when a messenger arrived at the palace with a note for
the King, which contained the news that a pumpkin had been found! The
owner of the pumpkin would give it up to no one but the King himself
(the note continued). Would his Majesty kindly walk down into a certain
part of the City, and go to a certain house (the address was given),
where he would be met by someone who would place the pumpkin in the
Kings hands. The King, wondering why the person who had the pumpkin
did not hasten with it to the palace, nevertheless did not wait to
question, but went at once to the house down in the City.
“It was a quaint, stubby little house; and inside he found a little
dwarf man. (The King did not know at the time that this was the person
who had destroyed the pumpkin garden on the night of the storm.)
Anyway, the dwarf began immediately to pour out some of the grievances
that he imagined he had against the King. And then he discovered
that the King was not to blame at all. There was some sort of muddle
and misunderstanding, and one of the grievances the King had never
even heard about. When the dwarf realized that he had endangered the
Princess’s life for no reason, that it had all been a mistake, and
that he had no cause at all for the spiteful and wicked thing he had
done, he got unreasonably angry (as people often do when they have
wronged someone who hasn’t deserved it). And so the dwarf fell to
blaming and cursing the King, and finally tried to make a bargain with
him concerning the pumpkin, which he had hidden, he said, refusing to
disclose its hiding-place until his demands were granted. The King,
whose sole idea was to get the pumpkin as quickly as possible, first
pleaded, then commanded the dwarf to fetch the pumpkin immediately:
he was willing to give any price for his daughter’s sake. But still
the dwarf haggled and delayed, until the King lost all patience and
a fierce quarrel ensued. In the midst of their quarrel there came the
clattering of horses’ hoofs on the cobbled road without, and then
someone rapped at the door of the dwarfs house. The angry voices within
ceased, and in the silence that followed a bell could be heard tolling.
And the King learnt that his daughter was dead.
“He returned to the palace, telling the messengers to arrest the dwarf,
and place him in the palace dungeon. ‘For I shall hold you responsible
for my daughter’s death,’ said the King.
“Afterward, when the whole story of the dwarf’s treachery became
public, it was discovered that he had not been alone on the night of
the storm: others had helped him to destroy the pumpkins: it would have
been impossible for him to make such a clean sweep of all the pumpkins
in the countryside by himself. It had been a carefully organized plan,
of which the dwarf was the ringleader and originator. But none of the
others were half so blameworthy as the dwarf; they obeyed his orders
without knowing his motives, and did not realize the mischief they were
doing was so serious. One or two of them were arrested and received
light punishments; some the authorities could not find. But the
gravest offender was the dwarf, of course, and for him was reserved the
heaviest punishment.
“And this was his punishment. The pumpkin that was found hidden in
his garden, the last remaining pumpkin in the country, was brought to
the palace, and with the help of a little magic the dwarf was shut up
_inside_ the pumpkin—where he remains to this day.
“They say that when the dwarf found what his fate was to be, he got
very enraged and vowed that if this punishment was carried out, he
would make the King and his people rue it, and suffer for it for ever
and ever.
“His threat was laughed at, and the punishment duly carried out. About
that time a weird old magician happened to pass through the country,
and his aid was secured to help with the punishment. He made a spell,
and the big yellow pumpkin slowly opened—like a yawn—of its own
accord. The little dwarf was lifted, struggling and screaming, and
placed in the centre; the magician waved his hands and the pumpkin
closed to again. The magician waved his hands again, and a curious
grey shade crept over the pumpkin; and it is this grey shade that
keeps the dwarf imprisoned. He might force his way out—perhaps even
_eat_ his way out, who knows—if the pumpkin were still yellow. The
grey is part of the magic.
[Illustration: THE LITTLE DWARF WAS LIFTED, STRUGGLING AND SCREAMING]
“Well, the King then called a council of Wise Men together, to consider
what should be done with the Grey Pumpkin. Some were for keeping it
in a museum (and charging a fee of 6d. for visitors to go and look at
it); while others advised burying it away in the deepest dungeon of the
City, just in case the dwarf ever got out of the Pumpkin; while a third
section of the Council, deriding the two former suggestions, urged that
the Grey Pumpkin be flung into a ditch beside the High Road, outside
the City Gates. The spokesman for this last section was a brilliant,
reckless young man, an eloquent speaker; he laughed at the caution
which prompted the first two parties to suggest a museum or a dungeon,
and looked upon the latter as a grave reflection on the Magician who
had so kindly come to their aid. Did they not trust in the spell which
kept the Pumpkin tightly closed? he asked the Council. And besides,
what person, dwarf, man, woman, or child, would be alive after being
shut up in a Pumpkin for twenty-four hours? No, let them show their
scorn for the thing by flinging it away, outside the walls of their
City.
“Much more than this did the young man say, and in the end he gained
his way. The Grey Pumpkin was carried to the gates of the City,
escorted by a solemn procession, and thrown into a ditch outside
the walls, amid much hissing and booing from the populace. The
young Councillor who had suggested all this got carried away by the
excitement of the moment, and he dashed forward and gave the Grey
Pumpkin that was lying quietly at the bottom of the ditch a good hearty
kick: this act was greeted with cheers and shouts of approval from the
crowd, until they saw that the Pumpkin, which had been sent spinning,
had landed on the High Road, a dozen yards away, and was slowly rolling
down the hill. The crowd fell silent, and watched. On, on the Grey
Pumpkin rolled, down the hill from the City, past my cottage door—I
remember—on, on, until it disappeared at length into a dark forest
right down at the bottom of the High Road.
“And after that, all our troubles began. The dwarf kept his vow, and
made us suffer. Somewhere, down in that dark forest, he got hold of
some black magic—no one knows how, or who helped him. All we know is
that since that time he has become possessed of certain magic powers,
and that one misfortune after another has overtaken our country—all
caused by the Pumpkin. Wherever he goes he makes misery and mischief: I
cannot tell you all the horrible things he has done, he and his little
band of followers—those faithful few who helped him in the beginning
to destroy the pumpkins, you remember. They went right over to his side
after they were punished, and he seemed to gain some evil influence
over them. There are not many of them, but they are in all parts of the
country, ready to help him when he needs them. And with his knowledge
of magic he could so disguise them that we could not recognize them.
But they are powerless without him, and when after suffering him for a
long time (because we could not find a way to escape him) we finally
discovered a way of banishing the Grey Pumpkin out of our World into
your World where he could do no harm, his followers became practically
harmless, until to-day.
“That is the story of how the Grey Pumpkin came to be what he is. The
King, whom he hated, has been dead many years and another King reigns
in his stead. And the young Councillor, the eloquent young Councillor
who advised the people so unwisely, was banished from Court; he has
grown old and timid and querulous, and is a disappointed man whose
career was blighted at the outset through the Pumpkin. You have seen
this once reckless, dashing young man; you met him just now in the
wood. He is Glan’s father.”