They looked as if they were climbing up, or slipping down, on account of
the sea being set up on edge.
“Suppose this,” said Miss Phyllisy to Pat and the Kitten (the Princess
was looking off, thinking: “What if the finest ship afloat were coming?”
and the Others wouldn’t disturb her). “Suppose this: Wouldn’t it be
funny if a ship went straight up; and it climbed up until it came to the
edge, and then kept going straight on ahead—off into the air?”
“But it couldn’t,” said Pat. “It has to stick right on; and then it
keeps rounding over until it is curling under. It _does, truly_,” she
insisted, though they didn’t contradict her, “because I’ve done it—when
I came; and it goes right along and nobody would know, but still it is
curling under; and you would think it was going straight ahead,
because—I ought to know, because I’ve been clear under, halfway around;
and it’s night there now. Now that is really true. _Honestly!_”
“That is the way it is, honestly,” said the Princess, for she had heard
all they said. “You can’t get off. Straight ahead you go and seem to go
and keep going; and back you come to the place you started from—if you
go long enough, because you’re tied down to it. But it’s a beautiful old
Earth to travel on, isn’t it?—and Starland to see besides.”
“Orion could sail straight off in a Star-Ship,” said the Kitten.
“Of course the Star People could go anywhere,” agreed Phyllisy. “How far
could they go, truly straight ahead, Dearie?”
“To the other end of Nowhere, and be no nearer the end—I should say. But
they don’t go, because their Law says they are to stay in their own
Starland.”
“Then they’ll be there at night,” said the Kitten.
“Where would they go?” asked Pat.
“To other Starlands,” said the Princess. And that was a surprising
answer, because not one of them supposed there could be any others. “The
Star People say there are,” the Princess assured them, “and I should
think they ought to know.”
“But how would they know, if they never go to them?” Miss Phyllisy
objected.
“Partly by seeing. For instance, there are the Far-Away Isles—two little
filmy streaks of light away down in the Southern sky, that look like
scraps of the Milky Way. The Star People often talk about them; and from
time to time some bit of news comes trickling in about outside places,
nobody knows how—vague rumors. It made a story one time, news coming
that way,” she ended, looking very attentively at a leaf in her hand,
and turning it over to examine the back, as if she didn’t know what was
expected of her!
But the Others were immediately disposing of their leaves where they
would be safe under stones, hopping and chirping like birds in a bush,
to settle themselves on the smooth ledges of rock that came through the
hill where it was thin on top, and were toasty warm from the sun. And
the Princess watched them, smiling to herself, but not saying a word
until everybody was comfortable.
“As I told you,” she began, “there are often bits of news floating about
in Starland—a sort of impression of something, very vague, that
comes—nobody knows how,—comets, possibly. And nobody would depend on
what they said.”
The Others were very sure _they_ wouldn’t.
“Neither would I,” said the Princess. “And perhaps that isn’t the way it
comes. But it comes some way. Sometimes vaguer and other times more
distinct. This time, all at once, there sprang up a real, definite
rumor: They were to have a visitor!
“Orion was the person who first spoke of it to the Pleiades girls. They
were dancing a pretty, twisty dance when he came strolling along and
called to them:—
“‘Are you practicing to be ready for company?’
“They didn’t catch what he said, and Taygeta would have stopped, but
Maia wouldn’t let them. So Orion waited and watched while they untangled
and finished in a straight line; and he might have gone far to see
anything so pretty as they were, in their gauzy gowns all a-glimmer with
tiny stars.
“‘Now you may talk, if you like,’ said Maia. ‘Alcyone often makes a
mistake in that, so I wanted to go straight through it.’
“‘What dance was that?’ asked Orion.
“‘That’s one of the “Sailor’s Knots,”’ said Taygeta. ‘There’s such a lot
of them!’
“‘Yes,’ said Alcyone, ‘and they are a good deal alike and entirely
different. Any one might be mixed. You have to tie them up, first, and
then untangle them.’
“‘She can do it perfectly well when she wants to,’ said Maia. ‘All our
family know about ocean things; but any one can make her giggle and be
silly.’
“‘What was it you said as you came?’ asked Merope, quickly. She had tact
about changing the subject.
“‘I don’t remember. Nothing much,’ said Orion.
“‘Yes, it was,’ said Taygeta. ‘Something about company.’
“‘Oh, yes. Haven’t you heard?’
“‘Heard what?’
“‘Tell us—quick!’ They all spoke together; and they should have known
better than to let Orion see how eager they were. It gave him a chance
to tease.
“‘Why—some one. Oh, I’m sure you must have heard. You don’t want me to
tell it all over again?’
“‘Yes, we do—’
“‘No, we haven’t—’
“‘Now, don’t be so mean—’
“‘Don’t ask him,’ said Maia. ‘He’s dying to tell.’
“Then they said not another word, but stood in a lovely row, locking
arms and balancing on their toes, and looked at him; and Orion looked
back at them. Then he pushed his lion’s skin up over his shoulder and
spoke to his dogs:—
“‘Come, Sirius! We’d better go and get ready before the Stranger comes,’
and he turned to go. But there were seven girls to stop him, and they
were around him in a second.
“‘No, you shall not—’
“‘Now, Orion—’
“‘Oh, _please_—’
“‘What is it?’ they asked; and he _was_ dying to tell!
“‘I can’t tell you so very much,’ he said. ‘But they say we are to have
a visitor from the Far-Away Isles.’
“‘Who says so?’
“‘Who is coming?’
“‘When will he be here?’
“‘What is he coming for?’ They were like seven interrogation points!
“‘I don’t know,’ said Orion. ‘I don’t remember who told me—and I’m not
quite sure what. Everybody but you seems to know about it.’
“‘Did you ever know any one so tiresome?’ asked Maia. And six Pleiades
girls said they never had, and ‘We’ll have to ask some one else.’
“So, off they went to try to find out what was going to happen; and how
anybody knew about it.
“It was a curious thing, but by the time they had talked with the other
Star People, they were in the same state as Orion and all the others. No
one could tell quite where he had heard it, and no one knew exactly what
he had heard; but every one had a perfectly clear impression that a
visitor was coming from the Far-Away Isles.
“When they tried to talk a little more definitely about him, they did
not altogether agree. Still, there was a strong idea that he was young
and splendid and handsome, of course; some one very distinguished in his
own country.”
“A prince, for instance?” asked Phyllisy.
“More than likely.—
“‘What do you suppose he is coming for?’ asked Maia.
“‘Perhapth, becauth he’th going to all the Thtar-Countrieth,’ said
Draco. ‘He couldn’t do that unleth he came here.’
“‘That’s so,’ said Hercules. ‘We’re one of ’em.’
“‘You’re mistaken,’ said Cepheus. ‘He’s heard about the prettiest seven
sisters in Starland, and he wants to take his choice of them back with
him. You’ll have to polish up your stars, girls, and dance your best for
him.’ (That was his idea of a joke!)
“‘Indeed we _won’t_!’ said Electra, with her nose very high. ‘We care
nothing about him.’
“‘No,’ said Alcyone. ‘We won’t do one thing!’
“‘Now, don’t you put nonsense into their heads,’ said Cassiopeia to
Cepheus. ‘He’s just coming to be friendly, and because he can; and I
think it’s lovely. We are going to do everything possible to give him a
fine welcome; and the girls will look just as pretty as they can, to be
a credit to us all.’
“‘I wish Merope’s star were brighter,’ said Celeno. ‘Do you think there
is anything we could do about it?’
“There was one thing they could do: they could talk! And they began that
very minute. It seems hardly possible that people could talk so much
about so little! No one had thought before that Merope was not quite as
she should be. If her star was faint and vanished when one looked hard
at it, that was the way of Merope’s star, and that was all there was
about it.
“But now, with the thought of stranger eyes, they began to feel that
perhaps it was extraordinary that she should be different from her
sisters. And the more they thought and talked about it, the more
important it seemed to be.
“Every one had some suggestion to make, except poor Merope herself; she
never had given it a thought, and now she declared she didn’t care.
“‘But _we_ care,’ said Maia. ‘It isn’t creditable to our family. What
will the Stranger think, to see you different from us?’
“So they talked—and talked—”
“Why didn’t they give her a star?—like Little Bear?” asked the Kitten.
“They would have given it, gladly, but Merope wouldn’t take it; and,
what is more, none of them had a star of the right kind to give.”
“They’re terribly particular about them, aren’t they?” said Phyllisy.
“They have to be,” answered the Princess. “But not in the way they were
now. Those foolish people went on talking, and fixed their eyes and
their thoughts on the star until they quite lost their senses, and it
seemed the most calamitous thing that could happen—that the splendid
Stranger should come from the Far-Away Isles and see Merope with the
puzzling star above her forehead.
“One night, at this time, Perseus came along by the river, and there he
found Merope sitting alone. She was thinking so deeply she didn’t see
him until he was close beside her.
[Illustration:
HE FOUND MEROPE SITTING ALONE
]
“‘Where are the rest of you?’ he asked.
“‘Dancing somewhere; I don’t know where. I came here to think.’
“That sounded pretty sad to Perseus, and he tried to say something to
cheer her.
“‘I wouldn’t worry about that star. You look all right.’
“‘I wouldn’t mind for myself,’ said Merope; ‘but I’m not going to
disgrace my family.’
“It was not long after this that the six Pleiades began to say: ‘Where
is Merope?’ and then the other Star People said: ‘Where can Merope
be?’—until the whole Sky seemed one great Question; and the nearest it
came to an answer was that Perseus had seen her sitting on the bank of
the river, quite downcast, but plainly resolved to do something.
“Cassiopeia was so worried, she lost her temper.
“‘I hope you girls are satisfied _now_’ she said. ‘Persecuting that poor
child!—and all for vanity. If anything has happened to her, I don’t know
how you’ll forgive yourselves!’
“‘You were in it, too,’ observed Perseus; and she was.
“‘I know it,’ she said, after a pause. ‘That’s how I know how they ought
to feel.’
“‘I don’t see how anything _could_ have happened to her.’ said Orion.
“‘Then where is she?’ asked Perseus. And that was what no one of them
could answer; and Starland wasn’t a happy place.”
“They could think she’d run away,” suggested the Kitten.
“Or drowned in the river,” said Miss Phyllisy in a tragic voice.
“They couldn’t bear to think it was anything serious; but it was a
mystery where she could be. They wandered from place to place, asking
one another what it could mean. And everywhere they ran across Little
Bear, roaming uneasy and disconsolate: even old Major was restless.
“‘You don’t suppose the Stranger came and carried her off to the
Far-Away Isles, do you?’ asked Andromeda.
“‘No, I do not,’ said Orion, very positively.
“‘She wouldn’t have gone! She wouldn’t have left us,’ Taygeta declared.
“‘Suppose he _took_ her?’ insisted Andromeda.
“‘_Nonsense!_’ said Cassiopeia.
“But when the night was gone without any sign of her, and a cloudless
night followed and there were only six girls in the group where there
should have been seven, what could they think? What could keep one of
the Star People from her place, unless something really had happened to
her? And when they had borne her absence for two cloudless nights, their
hearts had grown heavier and heavier, and they had almost given up any
hope of seeing their dear Merope again.”
“And they couldn’t hunt for her when it was clear,” said Phyllisy.
“No. They could only stand still and brood over it for two endless
nights.
“The third night came, cloudless still. The daylight grew dim until it
was nearly gone, and one after another, each star glimmered in its
place. When——
“Who was it?—coming—far down the Sky?
“The Star People neither spoke nor stirred while Merope came swiftly and
slipped into her place just as the last gleam of daylight faded away.
And if that didn’t show how faithful and obedient they were, what
could?”
“They had to keep all their questions in them,” said Pat.
“Yes, for a while. But about midnight thick clouds spread across the
sky; and then Merope might have answered twenty questions at once, if
she had had so many mouths.
“‘Where have you been?’ and ‘Why did you go?’
“‘Has anything hurt you?’
“‘Didn’t you know we would worry?’ That was Cassiopeia.
“‘If you’ll listen, I’ll tell you all about it,’ said Merope. ‘But you
all talk at once.’
“‘We won’t,’ said Cassiopeia. ‘Be quiet, everybody! Tell us this minute.
Who took you?’
“‘Nobody. I went myself.’
“‘That’s not the way to begin,’ said Orion. ‘Where did you go?’
“‘I went where the stars are made.’
“‘What did you do such a thing as that for?’
“Merope’s arm was around Little Bear, as he sat close beside her, and
she drooped her head until her chin touched his sharp little ear and
bent it over.
“‘I wanted a new star,’ she said very softly. ‘Wait—I’ll tell you all
about it. I thought you were ashamed of me, and I didn’t want to
disgrace you; and I thought and thought until I made up my mind to go
where they were made, and get a new one.’
“‘But how could you be gone from your place?’ asked Maia. ‘Don’t you
know it’s been clear weather?’
“‘Yes,’ said Merope. ‘But I knew my star was so dull it wasn’t likely
I’d be missed. I’m not very important.’
“‘Yes, you _are_—just as important as any of us,’ said Taygeta.
“‘And we’ve been almost crazy, missing you,’ said Cassiopeia. ‘Even
Major had the fidgets. I think our feelings ought to be considered.’
“‘I know it. I’m sorry now. I didn’t think of that.’
“‘But tell us what you did,’ said Orion. It seemed almost impossible to
keep them to the subject.
“‘I will. You know the place—off that way,’ and she pointed over the
river. ‘I knew all I had to do was to keep going straight on until I
came there. So I slipped off quietly, when you were all busy.’
“‘If I’d seen you start, you wouldn’t have gone,—unless I went too,’
said Hercules. ‘It wasn’t safe—a girl all alone.’
“‘But what happened? Did anything frighten you?’
“‘No. Only the dark, and cold.’
“‘_Dark!_ Was it really _dark_, Merope?’
“‘Well—I never heard anything like _that_!’ said Cassiopeia.
(“The reason they were so astonished is because it never is dark in
Starland. There is always the starlight.” The Princess answered the
question the Others didn’t ask, except by looks. “Oh—h!” they murmured.)
“‘Yes, it was,’ said Merope, ‘part of the time. Not at first. After I
crossed the river I went straight on for a good while; it was about like
this,’ she waved her hand. ‘It was all right until it was dark—’ Then
she stopped talking just at the most interesting place.
“‘Oh, go _on_, Merope!’ said Alcyone. ‘Where was it dark?’
“‘I don’t believe I can explain it. It came all at once—everywhere—as if
I had walked off the edge—into the sea; only there wasn’t any sea. There
wasn’t anything!’
“‘There was _you_, wasn’t there?’ asked Perseus.
“‘Yes. But I knew there wouldn’t be, long.’
“‘I wish you would explain things as you go along,’ said Cassiopeia.
“‘I’ll try,’ said Merope. ‘But it’s very perplexing. It was perfectly
dark; you never saw any dark like it—’
“‘You can’t _see_ dark, ever,’ said Orion. ‘That’s what it is.’
“‘That’s what I meant. You couldn’t see it; even my own little stars
were out’ (she glanced at her dress), ‘and it was cold—_deathly_! and
not a sound—and I didn’t know which way anything was. I was just colder
and colder, and still—and I knew, someway, I was going out.’
“‘Out where?’ asked Hercules.
“‘Nowhere,’ said Merope. ‘Like a candle.’
“‘Goodness! Weren’t you frightened?’ asked Andromeda.
“‘Yes. And I tried to think what to do, but I couldn’t. I kept growing
colder and stiller—I couldn’t move. Then I thought about all of you, and
there came a little warmth inside, and I knew the cold couldn’t reach
me.’
“‘Because love was stronger than cold or dark?’ suggested Andromeda.
“‘Yes; that was it. Nothing could put it out.’
“‘Then how did you find your way out?’ asked Cepheus, after a minute.
“‘That was easy. When I thought of you and home, something pulled me; so
I knew which way you were.’
“‘Then you came back,’ said Taygeta.
“‘No, I didn’t. I couldn’t come without the star. And I thought if I
kept going in the direction I started, I’d come to the right place. So I
kept on, the way I didn’t want to go.’
“‘Now, I call that downright clever!’ said Draco. ‘It thowth what it ith
to uthe your reathon.’
“‘Merope always was the brightest one of our family, really,’ said Maia.
‘What did you do then?’
“‘Kept on. And after I came out of the dark I was not very far from the
new stars.’
“‘Oh, tell us about them!’ said Cassiopeia. ‘How are they made? Tell us
every single thing!’
“‘I can’t,’ said Merope. ‘I’m not good at understanding such things.
There were a great many—all colors. I think they are made of something
very light—and spread out—it was like fog, in places; then, in other
places, it was whirling—I don’t know what makes it begin to whirl: then
it seemed to thicken up, when it whirled—’
“‘How, thicken up?’ asked Orion.
“‘I can’t explain; but the star-fog collected and drew together into a
ball, and that was the star. There were all sizes and kinds. Sometimes
there was one in the centre and more little stars whirling around in
rings outside it. And trails of fog—I never could describe it. You would
have to see for yourself. And they sang. Oh, it was beautiful!’ Then she
stopped again, to recall it; and that was trying to the others, because
she certainly did not make things very clear to them.
“‘Now, Merope,’ said Cassiopeia, ‘you give your mind to it, and describe
things a little better. I wish I’d gone myself. I could tell what I’d
seen and heard. What was the singing like?’
“‘It wasn’t like anything,’ said Merope. ‘That’s why I can’t tell you.
It was quite, quite beautiful. Every star—when it whirled—seemed to have
its own song—’
“‘Like tops?’ asked Perseus.
“‘Perhaps, a little—’ said Merope, doubtfully; ‘and all the songs made
one; and—I don’t know what it said, but I think—’ then she hesitated.
“‘_Go on!_’ said Maia.
“‘I think it said, they were glad they were alive.’
“‘Of course,’ said Cassiopeia. ‘Then what?’
“‘Then it was time for me to come home.’
“‘Didn’t you dread coming through the dark place again?’ asked Electra.
“‘Yes. But I knew I could get through. And it wasn’t so hard as going;
all I had to do was to come the way I wanted to. So I just came.’
“‘But, Merope,’ said Andromeda, ‘where is your new star?’
“Then every one of the Star People looked at Merope, and saw—what not
one of them had noticed before, they were so glad to have her back—her
own, strange, vanishing star still glinted above her forehead.
“‘Couldn’t you find the right kind?’ asked Taygeta.
“‘Weren’t you allowed to have it?’ asked Orion.
“‘Did you lothe it, coming back?’ asked Draco.
“‘Answer, Merope!’ said Cassiopeia.
“Merope looked confused, and she bent over Little Bear once more (he was
a very convenient Little Bear), but she had to speak.
“‘There were plenty of stars,’ she said slowly, ‘and I might have taken
one, but when I saw them—all so splendid—they didn’t seem like me; and
then I thought you all loved me, and I knew you didn’t care really, for
the star; and I liked my own best. So—I just came home.’
“‘We’re glad, Merope,’ said Andromeda. ‘We love you best like this.’
“And every one of the Star People felt the same.”
“We do too, Dearie,”said Phyllisy. “That was the best ending.”
Pat and the Kitten wriggled and nodded, and the Princess smiled at them,
but she held up her finger for them to wait for the very end.
“Then it was Merope’s turn to ask a question. But it didn’t occur to her
until a little later.
“The sisters were dancing—the very prettiest and most twirly of the
‘Sailor’s Knots’—and Merope was the centre of the twist, when she
stopped short and asked:—
[Illustration:
THE SISTERS WERE DANCING—THE VERY PRETTIEST AND MOST TWIRLY OF THE
“SAILOR’S KNOTS”
]
“‘When will the Stranger be here?’
“The Star People looked at each other in complete astonishment. They had
forgotten all about him.
“‘He isn’t coming,’ said Orion, after a pause.
“‘How do you know he isn’t?’ asked Hercules.
“‘The same way we knew he _was_,’ answered Orion.
“‘I’d jutht like to know who thtarted that thtory,’ said Draco. ‘I
believe it wath a comet!’
“‘So do I,’ said Cassiopeia.”
“Truly was it?” asked the Kitten.
“What do you think?” asked the Princess.
Then all the questions they had kept inside of them began to come out,
and they lasted down the hill—very jerky, on account of having to run or
slip—and most of the long way back. But there was time beside to gather
more leaves to take the place of those they had forgotten and left safe
under small stones on the hill-top!
There were thousands and thousands of them fallen, too beautiful to pass
over, so it was just as well.
XI
TORQUILLON’S LAIR
Precisely when the clock had struck three there came three raps on the
door. (There had been shuffling, whispering noises, and a squeak like a
mouse before, very small, but different from the sound of the rain
against the windows.)
“Come in!” said the Princess; and there entered the very ones she
expected to see, because it was an appointment.
The first thing, she wanted to ask them if they didn’t think it would be
comforting to have a fire in the fireplace, to look at.
The Others instantly thought it would. Miss Phyllisy shivered her
shoulders when she thought it, and the Kitten shivered hers when she saw
Miss Phyllisy. But Pat did not shiver, because none of them was truly
chilly, only it was such a disconsolate day, with cold gray coming in at
the windows and the corners dark, and large doleful brown leaves hanging
sodden from a branch and beating back and forth in the rain.
The Princess was sure they would feel that way about the fire, and she
thought they wouldn’t mind the trouble of starting it themselves, it was
so jolly to see the first blaze. And they didn’t mind in the least; they
loved it.
It was laid ready—large logs and small pieces to kindle it, but they
were very busy for several minutes, changing the small pieces as Miss
Phyllisy wanted them, because she had a talent for fires.
When it was arranged to suit her, the Kitten struck the match and
lighted the paper—and they all stood quite still while a flame stole
around, weaving in and out, and the blackened paper drew up where it
passed. A round puffing smoke rose above and sharp red tongues flipped
out at the top—a fine crackle began to sound—then came a broad roar. The
next minute flames were wrapping around the great logs, the whole length
of them, and blazing up the chimney, and the room to the farthest corner
and across the ceiling was full of moving firelight, with little fires
winking from everything shiny in it—even the raindrops chasing down the
panes. It was surprising, the change it made. Now, the miserable day
outside only made them more cosy and contented, here by Miss Phyllisy’s
beautiful fire, where their Princess sat ready to tell them a most
especial story that she would love to have them hear. But, as Prudence
said, it wouldn’t be wise to begin while the fire needed attention, and
there was no hurry. So they watched the first blaze pass off; then the
logs settled and fell apart, and they poked them and put on one more,
and Pat set the fender in place.
The new log sputtered a minute before the blaze began to eat it. They
watched a few minutes longer, to be sure it was all right; and it was.
The Princess said she never had seen a more satisfactory fire,—and
likely to last.