_Glan Opens the Gate in the Nick of Time_
The children walked briskly, glancing from the City lights to the dark
woods on either side of the road. Everything lay quiet and peaceful,
and overhead the moon was now visible. It seemed impossible to believe
that a cloud of fear hung over the City ahead. As they drew nearer the
top of the hill the sound of a bell tolling came floating down to their
ears.
“What’s that for, I wonder,” said Molly.
“P’raps it’s a sort of warning,” suggested Jack, “to tell people the
Pumpkin’s back again.”
Molly shivered. “Let’s hurry a bit more, shall we?” she said. “I’ll be
glad when we’re inside the City, won’t you, Jack?”
So they quickened their footsteps.
“I do hope we meet Glan,” Molly went on. “We couldn’t very well miss
him, though, could we?... You’re sure you’ve got your Pass safely!”
“Rather,” said Jack. “At least I think I put it back in my satchel.”
And diving his hand in to make sure, he jerked the envelope which
contained the Pass out on to the road. A passing breeze caught it and
turned it over and over on the ground, and there was a hurried scramble
on Jack’s part to get it back again. He had just put it safely back in
his satchel, when a sudden cry from Molly made him wheel round to see
what was the matter.
Molly was standing gazing down the hill. “Oh, Jack! Jack! Look!” she
cried, pointing to the dark wood on their left. About thirty yards away
down the hill, something was slowly emerging from the black shadows of
the trees.
It was the Grey Pumpkin.
It rolled leisurely out into the moonlit road, paused for a moment,
then turned and moved up the hill toward them.
“Don’t be ashamed to run,” Old Nancy had said. And they were not
ashamed. Jack and Molly took to their heels and ran. They did not want
to be stopped by the Pumpkin at the very beginning of their quest,
knowing how powerless they were until the Black Leaf was found. So they
ran with all their might, on, on, until the City Gate was but a little
farther ahead of them, and the tolling bell clanged loudly from within.
“Jack, oh, Jack—I—can’t—run—any—more,” gasped poor Molly.
“Oh—what—what shall—we—do?”
“Were just there—keep—up—old girl—only a—little—bit
more—we’re—just—there,” panted Jack.
With a final effort they rushed forward and reached the gate at last.
Jack flung himself against it and started beating on it with his fists,
and then snatching up a large stone from the road he hammered it with
that; while Molly seized the thick bell chain at the side and began
pulling it vigorously.
It was a curious gate—more like a door than a gate—made of solid
iron; and at the top, high above the children’s heads, was a tiny
grating through which the citizens could see who stood without.
Jack glanced despairingly up at the high white walls and the black iron
gate, while he continued to beat wildly with the stone and shout as
loudly as he could for help. There seemed no way of escape if they did
not open the gate, and looking back he saw the Pumpkin coming silently
onward.
“It’s no good making a dash for the woods, Molly,” he exclaimed, “he’d
cut us off. Pull harder, and shout too.”
So Molly pulled harder at the bell chain and cried out for someone to
come and open the gate and let them in.
Suddenly, above the noise they were making and the sound of the tolling
bell within, the children heard voices, and a clattering on the other
side of the gate. Then a face appeared at the grating.
“Open the gate!” cried Jack. “Quick! Quick! We’ve got a pass. Open the
gate and save us!”
A loud murmuring arose within, and they heard the jangling of keys.
When all at once a voice shrieked, “Look! Look! On the hill. It’s the
Pumpkin! Don’t open the gate! Don’t open the gate, it’s a decoy!”
“It’s not, it’s not,” cried Jack. “Oh, save us, save us. We _have_ got
a pass. Let us in and save us from the Pumpkin. For pity’s sake open
the gate!”
The voices inside were now loud and angry; the people were evidently
not inclined to believe him.
“Oh, Jack, Jack!” screamed Molly. “He’s just behind us, Jack!”
Jack wheeled round and saw to his horror that the Pumpkin was near
the top of the hill and close upon them. He was desperate. Raising
the stone above his head, he flung it with all his strength at the
big, grey, moving thing. There was a dull thud as the stone struck
the Pumpkin and sent it back a few paces; but it quickly came to a
standstill, and began at once to cover the ground it had lost.
Meanwhile a fresh arrival had come upon the scene behind the gate.
In the midst of all the hubbub, the angry voices, the clanging bell,
the pattering feet, there was a moment’s lull, and Jack and Molly
could distantly hear the sound of running feet. Then a familiar voice
exclaimed: “Hi, there! What’s all the fuss about?”
A score of voices started to explain.
Molly gave a sob of relief, “Oh, it’s Glan!” she cried.
“Glan! Glan!” the children called imploringly. “Open the gate quick and
save us. Oh, _do_ be quick!”
Glan’s face appeared at the grating.
“Bless my soul!” he cried in his big voice. “Here, give me the keys!
Yes, I know it’s the Pumpkin too, but if we don’t open the gate this
instant the little lady outside and her brother will be.... Give me the
keys ... give me the keys! Decoys?... Bah!”
There was a jangling of keys again, the sound of a lock being turned,
and the huge gate swung back.
Jack and Molly dashed in, and Glan slammed the gate behind them—just
in time. Another minute and the Pumpkin would have got through.
“But can’t he open the gate if he just touches it?” cried Jack, tugging
Glan’s sleeve excitedly.
“No, no, he can’t do that!” Glan said, shaking his head as he stood on
tiptoe to bolt and padlock the gate securely. “Thank goodness there are
some limits to his magic!”
Jack and Molly found themselves in the centre of an excited crowd of
people who regarded them curiously, but without anger or fear, since
Glan had befriended them. Most of them were chattering and waving their
hands toward the gate, but some watched the children with narrowed
eyes and then whispered behind their hands to their neighbours,
while others stood and gazed gloomily at them in silence. They were
a picturesque race of people, these citizens of the Possible World,
clothed in a bewildering variety of dresses, of no particular style;
apparently each person dressed in whichever style took his or her
fancy, or which was best suited to the occupation carried on by that
person. And this, after all, is the only sensible way to dress. The
result of these numerous styles and colours was very pleasing to the
eye: at least, so thought Jack and Molly as they gazed round at the
animated scene before them.
[Illustration: THE HUGE GATE SWUNG BACK]
“Don’t you fret,” said a kindly-looking woman dressed in dark blue
with a blue cap on her head and a chain of dull yellow beads round
her neck. “We took care to have the gate washed with a magic lotion,
and the Pumpkin cannot touch it—nor the gate at the other end of the
City—though we have to keep both safely locked in case a friend of
the Pumpkin’s were to get in and open the gate for him.” She looked
straight into the eyes of first Jack and then Molly—and then she
smiled.
By this time Glan had finished locking up the gate, and was handing the
keys back to the gate-keeper—a large, pompous-looking gentleman with
a brown beard, dressed in a green Robin Hood style of suit—who seemed
inclined to be sulky.
“I’m sorry I could not wait for your permission to open the gate,” they
heard Glan say. “The matter was urgent, you see. It was the little lady
and her brother who are going to try and help us.”
“You’d no right to snatch the keys out of my hand like you did,”
replied the gate-keeper sullenly. “You might have got me into no end of
trouble, if they _had_ been decoys. Where’s their pass, anyway?”
Glan beckoned to Jack and Molly.
“If you wouldn’t mind giving up your passes to this gentleman,” he
said. “Ah, that’s right,” as Jack and Molly handed their envelopes to
the gate-keeper, who proceeded to open them and examine the contents
carefully.
Then he slowly nodded his head. “All right this time,” he said. “But
you be careful in future, young man”; he looked at Glan. “It might have
been a very serious matter.”
Glan’s eyes began to twinkle.
“I will certainly profit by your advice,” he said. “I’m extremely sorry
I had to snatch the keys, I apologize most humbly, but, of course, you
didn’t understand who it was outside, and what danger they were in ...
and anyway, all’s well now, isn’t it, sir?”
“Oh, it’s all right this time, as I said before.”
“Thanks,” said Glan. “Well, good-night.... And now,” he turned to the
two children, “you must be very, very tired after all that. Will you
come along with me to my little place? Father and Aunt Janet will be
very pleased to welcome you.”
Jack and Molly assented willingly, and followed Glan closely as he made
his way through the crowd. When they reached the outskirts of the knot
of people Molly began to thank Glan for coming to their aid at the
gate; but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“What else could I do, on my life, little lady?” he said. “I have faith
in you both, and the help you are going to give us. I want you to come
and have a good rest now, and then in the morning you will be told what
part of the country to search, and you can start out at once on your
adventures.”
“It seems as if we have already started,” observed Jack. “It seems as
if its been all adventures to-day.”
“I think you’re right,” said Glan. “But there’s more to come—though
we’ll talk about those to-morrow. You must be too tired to-night. I
am very glad you got here all right, I was delayed in coming to meet
you—I felt sure, somehow, that you’d decide to stay, after you had
heard Old Nancy’s story. And anyway, I should have been half-way down
the hill to meet you, only so many people stopped me to know if the bad
news was true—that the Pumpkin had returned—and there were such a lot
of things to see to, and I had to run home to tell Aunt Janet to get
things ready for you—in case you came back with me, so that I reached
the gate just in time to let you in.” He stopped a little out of breath.
They had been walking fairly quickly all this time, and the children
could now see more clearly what a beautiful City they had entered.
Everything glistened, a pure white, in the moonlight. Houses, walls,
roofs, chimneys, front doors, gates, pavements, roads—all were white
and spotlessly clean. Yet the curious part of it all was, that it was
not monotonous to the eye; instead, it seemed to make a fine background
for the coloured flowers and trees and dresses of the people. And
to-night, the City was full of soft shadows, cast by the objects that
stood in the light of the moon, Glan and the two children turned into
a narrow, hilly street, down the centre of which ran a sparkling
brooklet, that babbled and gurgled as it splashed over its pebbly bed.
Most of the houses in this street were quaintly built, with the top
part bulging out over the street. And Molly noticed as they passed that
all the windows had coloured curtains—in one house all the curtains
were blue, in another a deep amber shade, in another a glowing crimson,
and so on—which had a very pretty effect, especially if the windows
were lit from within. The white houses, the coloured curtains, and the
window-boxes full of flowers that adorned each window in the street
made a great impression on the children. They thought it all charming,
and said so to Glan.
“The Possible World,” he said, then shook his head and held up his
finger. The tolling of the bell floated across to them.
“I suppose that’s to warn people, isn’t it?” said Jack.
Glan nodded. “But we’ll soon change its tune, won’t we?” he said. “It’s
joy-bells that’ll be ringing next, because the Black Leaf is found. And
who will have found it.... Ah, ha!” he winked knowingly, and wagged a
fat forefinger at the two children. “What a great day it will be,” he
chuckled. “You’ll have to be careful I don’t win, because I’m going to
search too, you know ... but we’ll talk all about that in the morning.”
At the top of the hilly street they crossed an open square with a
market cross in the centre, and entered another narrow street with
bulging houses and shops in it. They met few people now as they
continued on their way: many were still down by the West Gate, and
others had wended their ways homeward after assuring themselves that
the Pumpkin was safely outside the City walls. About half-way up the
street Glan came to a halt outside a small shuttered shop, that lay
back underneath the frowning brow of the bulging upper story of the
building, like a dark deep-set eye. Producing a key from the pocket
of his white jacket, Glan placed it in the lock of the side door and
opened it quietly.
“I’ll go in first, shall I?” he said. “There’s no light in the
passage, and you might fall over something.”
Jack and Molly followed him into the house, and stood hesitating on the
mat while he strode down the passage and opened a door at the farther
end. A dim light crept out and thinned the darkness. From the room came
a low murmur in familiar tones.
“Come along,” called Glan. “Would you mind just shutting the front
door. Thanks very much.”
It was a small room at the end of the passage with a round table in
the centre of it on which stood a shaded lamp. At the table sat Glan’s
father with his elbows resting on a large open book in front of him,
while his hands, held to the sides of his head, covered his ears; an
expression of profound melancholy was on his face as he gazed at the
children on their entrance. Bending over the fireplace was a genial,
comfortable-looking, elderly woman, who was stirring something in a
saucepan.
“Bless their hearts, how tired they look,” she exclaimed, as she caught
sight of the children’s faces.
“It’s the little lady and her brother that I told you about, Aunt
Janet,” said Glan. “Is everything ready for them?”
“Yes, my dear,” replied Aunt Janet. “The beds is sweet and aired, and
there’s a bowl of hot broth for both of them, bless their innocent
souls, which’ll be cooked in a minute or two. Sit you down, dearies,
and rest yourselves, and Aunt Janet’ll have things ready in no time for
you.”
“They’re sure to be tired,” said Glan. “They were chased up the hill by
the Pumpkin,” he added in a lower voice.
But his father had heard. “What was that?” he asked mournfully, taking
his hands down from his ears.
So Glan had to explain to him the incident at the gate, and how the
Pumpkin nearly got in. The old man listened intently, groaning every
time Glan paused for breath, and rolling his eyes whenever the Pumpkin
was mentioned by name. At the end of the story he hastily stopped his
ears again, and bent over his book muttering faintly that he “couldn’t
abide that bell ringing.”
“Poor old father,” said Glan, compassionately, “it does upset him so.”
Jack and Molly were glad of the hot broth, and Aunt Janet, as she
fussed about them anxiously, was pleased to see that the steaming bowls
were soon emptied.
“Sleep well, for there is hard work before you; but courage—and
everything will be well,” said Glan, beaming down at them as he wished
them good-night. While his father shook his head mournfully, and sighed
as he gave them each a limp hand.
Aunt Janet lit two long candles, and conducted them up a flight of high
narrow stairs to the top of the house where there were two small rooms
with little white beds, and freshly laundered window curtains.
“Good-night, dearies,” she said. “Blow the candles out safely. I hope
you’ll find everything you want here.” Her eyes grew very kind. “I had
a little girl and boy once,” she said, “and I know they’d like you to
use their things—if they knew—so I’ve put them all out for you. They
were just about your age, and I—and they—good-night, dearies,” she
stooped suddenly and kissed them each on the forehead.