[Illustration]
THE REAL FAIRY FOLK
[Illustration: “‘I FEEL THE WIND,’ CRIED RUTH, WITH BRIGHT EYES. ‘DEAR
VOICE, ARE YOU THE WIND?’”]
_THE
Real Fairy Folk_
_BY
LOUISE JAMISON_
_ILLUSTRATED
BY
JAMES M. GLEESON_
[Illustration]
_NEW YORK_ _GARDEN CITY, N. Y._
_DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY_
_MCMXII_
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN
LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
[Illustration]
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS, GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
_To my Mother and Father this little book is lovingly dedicated_
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. In the Old Willow Tree 3
II. Two Funny Gentlemen and What They Said 13
III. Ruth and the Wonderful Spinners 33
IV. Mrs. Mosquito and Her Kin 51
V. Ruth Hears About Some Water Babies 64
VI. Ruth Goes to a Concert 82
VII. Ruth Meets All Sorts and Conditions 100
VIII. Mrs. Tumble Bug and Others 118
IX. Little Mischief Makers 134
X. Some Queer Little People 148
XI. Wise Folks and Fiery Ones 159
XII. The Honey Makers 180
XIII. The Most Beautiful of All 197
XIV. Real Fairies 212
[Illustration]
ILLUSTRATIONS
“‘I feel the wind,’ cried Ruth, with bright eyes. ‘Dear
voice, are you the Wind?’” _Frontispiece_
PAGE
“‘Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all
around, only I’m deaf’” 8
“Ruth, holding Belinda tightly, drew close to the edge
of the brook” 14
“‘How’s that?’ and with a splash a big green and brown
frog landed on the stone at her feet” 15
“‘I am a frog, of course, but my family name is Rana’” 16
“That nice fat toad in the garden” 18
“‘I didn’t move, but my tongue _did_’” 19
“‘I was soon swimming about with a lot of other tads,
slapping tails, and having all kinds of fun’” 23
“A loud splash and Mr. Rana’s long legs disappeared in
the brook” 24
“‘I’m right over here in the shade’” 25
“‘The mother spins the cocoon of silk from her own
body’” 38
“‘Why, it’s Daddy Long Legs’” 46
“‘I made one of these pits and in the funnel end I lay
in wait for ants’” 76
The wise grasshopper 88
“‘My friends, there are ants and ants’” 160
“‘Then there are ants who keep slaves’” 162
“‘Then there are ants who cut pieces from green leaves
and carry them as parasols’” 163
The house of the mound-builder ant 165
“Vespa Maculata” 170
The Queen Bee and her bodyguard of drones 187
“‘Smart children, aren’t they?’ asked some moths” 203
“‘I am the moon moth, the Luna’” 213
[Illustration]
THE REAL FAIRY FOLK
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
IN THE OLD WILLOW TREE
He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small.
—_Coleridge._
Ruth climbed to her favourite perch in the old willow tree, and settled
Belinda in a crotch beside her.
“Now,” she said, drawing a long breath, “we will be cool and comfy.”
Certainly if there was a cool spot to be found on this hot August
morning it was in the shade of this big willow.
“Her very own tree,” as Ruth always called it, for, since she could
climb at all, she had loved to sit among its drooping branches and hear
the leaves whispering together the wonderful things, which she knew they
were telling each other, even though she could not understand them.
Then, too, she could look down into the brook, and watch the doings of
the queer little people who made their home there.
These, like all the tiny folk of the outdoor world, were a source of
never-failing interest and wonder.
In their company, Ruth was never lonely, even though she had neither
brother nor sister, nor indeed any little boy or girl to play with.
Still it would be so much nicer if she could only talk to the bugs and
things. There were such lots of questions she wanted to ask them.
How she did wish that the funny old tumble bugs would stop rolling their
ball, and tell her all about it. They never did, though. They just kept
at that ball as though it was the most important thing in the world.
Then she wanted to know what the bees whispered to the flowers as they
buzzed above them, and whether the butterflies spoke to each other as
they flew by in the sunshine.
There were the ants, too, always so busy, and in such a hurry. How fast
they could run when any one upset their nest; and how funny they looked
carrying those queer white bundles.
Mother had called these bundles the ants’ babies, but Ruth thought them
very odd babies, and she wondered if they had to be fed and bathed and
put to sleep like human babies.
She wanted to know all about them, and about the spiders too, and their
wonderful webs.
“Just think what a chance Miss Muffet had,” she said to Belinda, when
both were settled to her satisfaction in the willow-tree perch. “Only a
very friendly spider would come up and sit down by you, and who knows
the interesting things it could tell. The idea of being afraid of a
spider anyhow! You might as well be afraid of that funny old toad in the
garden, and I don’t believe he could hurt you if he tried. I guess he
doesn’t do anything but sleep.”
Ruth had been trying to talk to the toad that very morning. He had
looked so solemn and so wise as he sat under the shade of a big stone in
the damp corner of the garden, “but,” as she said, “he wasn’t any good
at all,” for he only looked at her, then drew a film over his eyes, and
went on swallowing very hard.
“He can talk, though, I know,” she said to Belinda. “They can all talk
in their way. It sounds like noise to us, because we can’t understand.
Do hear them, Belinda? What are they saying?”
But of course Belinda could not answer. She never said more than “mama,”
in a very squeaky voice, and you had to squeeze her ever so hard to make
her do that.
Ruth sighed softly, then, leaning forward with her elbow propped on her
knee, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand, she listened to the
flood of sound about her; the hum and buzz that came from garden and
orchard, from field and meadow; thousands of tiny voices, rising and
falling and rising again, as they told their fascinating life stories,
from every leaf and twig and grass blade.
“They are talking just as fast as they can,” Ruth said again, “but I
don’t know what they are saying. Oh! if I only did. Why don’t people
learn their language instead of German and French and lots of other old
things that aren’t any good? It would be ever so much nicer, and they
could find out so many wonderful things, couldn’t they, Belinda?”
But, as usual, Belinda only stared at Ruth, and said nothing.
[Illustration: “‘SOMETIMES IT SEEMS AS IF IT MUST BE FAIRYLAND ALL
AROUND, ONLY I’M DEAF’”]
“Oh, dear,” said Ruth, “if you were only alive, and could tell me
things, you’d be ever so much more interesting, but then maybe,” she
added, thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t understand you any better than I do
them. Maybe doll language is different too. It is all so puzzling.
Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all around, only I’m deaf.
I wonder if there’s a word that lets you in so you can know about
things, like ‘Open Sesame’ in ‘The Forty Thieves.’ Oh, Belinda, do you
think there is?” And Ruth clasped her hands together at the very
thought. “But we can’t find it out,” she added, more soberly, “and so it
wouldn’t be any use.”
“Watch and listen! Watch and listen!” said a voice so close to her ear
that Ruth jumped, and nearly fell to the ground.
She looked about her expectantly, but no one was in sight, either in the
tree or under it.
“It is very queer,” she said. “You can’t talk, Belinda, and I don’t see
a single person anywhere.”
“It is not so queer as you think,” the voice replied, as close to her
ear as before. “You cannot see me, but you can feel me.”
A passing breeze had touched her cheek and was softly ruffling her hair.
“I feel the wind,” cried Ruth, with bright eyes. “Dear voice, are you
the Wind? Why have you never talked to me before? If you only knew how I
have wanted some one to talk to me, and tell me things! People don’t
seem to like to answer questions. They haven’t time or something. But
you must know such a lot. The wind goes everywhere.”
“Yes, I am a great traveller, but, child, the marvellous things are not
all far off. There is a wonderland right here at home, if one has the
eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the heart to feel and understand.”
Ruth clapped her hands, and her eyes danced.
“I knew it! I knew it!” she cried eagerly. “I told Belinda it was
Fairyland all around us; but, dear Wind,” she added, while a little
cloud filled her eyes, “I do see and hear lots of things, but I _can’t_
understand, and I _do_ want to know all the whys and becauses. Won’t you
please, _please_ tell me?”
“I may not do that, child,” was the answer, “for each thing speaks in
its own language, and will tell its own story to those who seek truly
and earnestly. You are a thoughtful child, and for that reason it will
be given to you to know those things which you most desire to learn.
Only remember, ‘Watch and be patient,’ and never forget the password
‘Brotherhood,’ for even the lowest creature has some rights to be
respected.”
The breeze passed on, softly singing through the willow branches, but
Ruth sat without moving, her eyes wide with eager wonder.
“I didn’t dream it,” she said at last in an awed little whisper. “It was
as real as anything could be that you couldn’t see. I suppose
‘brotherhood’ means not to be unkind or cruel to things. Oh, Belinda,
just think of it: hearing what they say, the bees and the butterflies
and the dear little crickets and funny old grasshoppers,” and she
snatched Belinda to her and hugged her tight. “It will be harder than
ever to go into the house now, won’t it?” she finished soberly. Then she
sat for a few minutes thinking, very quiet, but very happy.
“Kerchug—kerchug—kerchug,” called a voice from the brook, and Ruth
started so suddenly she nearly dropped Belinda, and caught a branch just
in time to keep herself from falling.
“Gracious,” she said, “how that scared me. I do believe it was that big
green and brown frog. See him down there, Belinda? He is just showing
his head and his funny eyes out of the water. Let’s get down close to
him, and maybe he’ll come out all the way.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]