THE ECLIPSE
ONCE inside, Bedelia quickly gave a hand to Sally and in a moment
the little girl, lifted up by the Sign Post, stood beside the small
bear. The Sign Post now swiftly swung himself up to the balcony,
being assisted in no small degree by the Polar Bear, who for various
reasons remained below. He was to keep watch and give notice if anyone
approached.
It was now arranged that as the Sign Post was far too tall to navigate
around inside of the house, he should climb from one balcony to another
until he reached the top and if possible effect the rescue of the
Wizardess from the outside. This seemed very satisfactory to Sally and
Bedelia, neither of whom exactly liked the idea of encountering the
gargoyles which they knew were wandering about, unfettered, in the dark
halls.
[Illustration]
Anxiously they waited, watching the long legs of the Sign Post as they
trailed over the edge of the upper railing. Then they disappeared and
all was painful suspense for what seemed at least a century. Then at
a shout from the Polar Bear they both rushed out on the balcony. They
beheld the Sign Post swinging himself swiftly down from balcony to
balcony, which he appeared to do with the utmost ease and looking more
like a big spider than anything else—all legs and arms. Clinging to
his neck was the Weather Prophet, her fluffy skirts flying every which
way in the fine breeze. Presently he had reached the ground and having
gently set his fair burden down, he quickly scrambled back again and
hastened to bring down Sally and Bedelia, who were beginning to feel a
wee bit nervous as they had tried the door of the room in which they
were and had found it locked on the outside. And right thankful they
were to find themselves on the green grass below, comforting the little
Weather Prophet, who was overjoyed to find herself at liberty.
Where she should go was the next question. The Wizard might return
at any moment, and her own house was a house no longer. Suddenly an
expression of delight flashed over Sally’s face.
“Let us go to the Walking House!” she exclaimed. “You will be quite
safe there and if anyone comes in pursuit, the house can easily escape
with you.”
To this the Weather Prophet gave a joyful assent.
“Let us go quickly, quickly!” she cried. “I feel it in my bones, in my
skirts, I mean, that we are going to have something very unusual. In
fact, according to the calculations, we are going to have an eclipse of
the sun in about a quarter of an hour.”
Here she winked at Bedelia with a gesture so comical that the little
bear rolled over laughing.
“Come, don’t let us delay,” exclaimed the rescued one, and hand in hand
they hurried away from the Wizard’s tower, which was soon completely
obscured from view by the thick trees that surrounded it.
At the edge of the park they paused and as the distance to the Walking
House was several miles, The Sign Post suggested that he should procure
a conveyance and also some wraps for the Weather Prophet in order that
none might recognize her. Accordingly he disappeared swiftly and soon
returned with one of the autos from the royal garage. As for Sally,
Bedelia and the Weather Prophet, you could never have told one from the
other in their coats and goggles, while the Polar Bear cuddled around
their feet, thus keeping them nice and warm.
Away they flew, the Sign Post for once in his life perched next the
chauffeur with his long legs doubled up as much as possible and the
rest of them hanging over the dashboard. The chauffeur was an old
oyster, who had been chosen for this capacity because he was _dumb_,
and could not voice his suspicions provided he felt any.
As the Walking House stood on the very edge of the town, it took at
least fifteen minutes to reach it, and although the chauffeur made good
speed, just as they were drawing up in front of it, darkness, sudden,
swift and ominous, fell upon Toyland.
It was altogether a hopeless darkness, for which the inhabitants of
Toyland were totally unprepared. Lamps and candles were unknown and the
people crouched in their gay little houses panic-stricken.
Only in the Walking House did lights appear, for in accordance with
custom, candles and candelabra adorned mantels and tables, and it was
the work of only a moment to light them all. Gaily Sally and her party
hurried into the house, Sally racing downstairs to find Dinah, for they
were all as hungry as wolves, while Bedelia escorted the guest of honor
upstairs to remove her wraps.
The Polar Bear stretched himself before the front door, making a very
effectual guard in case of danger.
[Illustration: The dolls had come down into the parlor to be introduced
to the new arrivals.]
At Sally’s suggestion, all the shades were drawn down so that no
ray of light might pierce the outer darkness—darkness that covered
everything like a muffling cloak, in which the inhabitants of Toyland
were helplessly floundering about, and which was sure to last until the
Wizard came back to set things straight.
“And a fine time he’ll have doing it,” remarked the Weather Prophet
with a toss of her pretty little head. “He won’t be able to see his
hand before his face, and I took care to leave his old electric
machines in such a muddle that he’ll have his hands full—fuller than
they’ve ever been with all the cares of state included.”
Sally, who had suspected as much, tried to reprove her, but ended by
laughing outright. The Weather Prophet was so very like Bedelia when in
her impish moods.
As for Bedelia herself, the idea tickled her so that she laughed until
she rolled off the sofa on which she had been sitting and proceeded to
bounce up and down on the floor like a fat rubber ball. Then as soon
as she was able to get her breath, she sat up, panting and rubbing the
tears out of her eyes with both paws.
“My face is leaking! I must be turning into a gargoyle,” she exclaimed,
which of course started everybody laughing all over again.
By this time all the dolls had come crowding down into the parlor to
be introduced to the new arrival. Sally did not consider it wise to
introduce the Weather Prophet by her real name, feeling that if a
strict investigation should be made, it would be safer if none of the
dolls were aware of her identity. So it was that she was known to the
inhabitants as Nellie, a name that had suggested itself to Bedelia.
Sally feared that her own disappearance and that of Bedelia would be
connected with that of the Wizard’s wife, and therefore resolved to
take every precaution. The eclipse of course would retard any search
that the Wizard might see fit to make. But what to do with the fugitive
lady for the rest of her life was a question. She flatly declared
she would never return to the Wizard and was wild with rage when she
learned the use to which her pretty little glass house had been put.
While all the pleasant acquaintance-making was going on in the Walking
House, an automobile containing a badly rattled Wizard was slowly
picking its way along through the inky blackness. The old gentleman
was shrewd enough to guess the cause of the eclipse, although he had
been quite sure in the beginning that his wife was locked up too
securely to be able to get at anything. He had started forth at once,
greatly against the wishes of the King and Queen who, of course,
could not understand the cause of his anxiety, and who much preferred
to stay behind until the sun shone again. But the Wizard had taken
immediate flight, and was now hurrying back to his tower as rapidly as
circumstances and the eclipse would permit. On the principle that all
roads led to the palace, the chauffeur kept straight on through the
pitch darkness, tooting his horn occasionally to prevent a collision
with any other eclipse-belated wayfarer who might be floundering about
on the same road.
The snow made it somewhat difficult and altogether the trip was
anything but a pleasant one, and the Polly-nosed Saphead was glad
indeed when he at last found himself in front of his gloomy tower.
Instead of stopping there, however, he ordered the chauffeur to go on
to the palace, much to the dismay of that personage, who considered
that he had already traveled far enough. Nevertheless he put on speed
and soon arrived at the royal residence.
Here the Wizard quickly alighted and hastened into the palace. He was
gone some time and the chauffeur was growing very impatient when he
at last reappeared, triumphantly bearing in his hands a large wicker
cage in which were gleaming and glowing all the fireflies that were
accustomed always to be liberated at twilight. He chuckled to himself
as he was whirled back to his tower, and in a few moments was inside
and hastening toward the room that contained his electric plant.
The gargoyles came hurrying down to meet him, and it was a very good
thing that he carried a light, for had they caught him alone in the
darkness, they would no doubt have made a meal of him. As it was, they
recognized him at once and came flapping joyously along with hoarse
growls of welcome. But the Wizard now had no time to waste on his pets.
Pushing them roughly aside, he dove into his laboratory and after one
look around, sank upon a chair with a groan that the gargoyles heard as
they crouched against the door in the darkness outside, and to which
they replied with sharp growls.
Everywhere reigned confusion worse confounded. Wires were cut,
batteries disconnected, wreck and ruin faced him on every side. The
Wizard smote his breast and fairly wept with rage.
“Call me the Wizard of Was,” he ejaculated, “for nobody but a
good-for-nothing old back number would have gone off and left that minx
to get in her fine work here.”
“The Wizard of Was! The Wizard of Was!” a mocking voice cried out of
the darkness. And the terrified Wizard jumped to his feet, while a peal
of unearthly laughter rang through the room. The next moment he sat
down again, much relieved. The parrot had fluttered in after him quite
unobserved, and, perched on the high mantel-shelf, was imitating her
master at pleasure. Hearing the familiar voice, the gargoyles began to
scratch and snarl at the door. They considered it very unfair that the
parrot should be allowed inside while _they_ were banished to outer
darkness.
“Shut up!” he commanded, fiercely throwing his words at the parrot
like shots from a gun. And then, “Lie down there, will you?” this
accompanied with a vigorous slap applied to the top of his head, for
his scalp-lock had suddenly lifted itself erect and was standing
straight up in the air.
[Illustration]
“You don’t like the looks of things, hey? Well, I don’t either. But
just mind your own affairs. I’ll attend to the rest.” Then pulling
himself vigorously together, he set to work to repair the damage as
best he could, although he foresaw plenty of hard work ahead of him
before the sun could shine out again. Right well he knew that his
reputation as a wizard would be gone forever did the present state
of affairs continue for any length of time, and while he worked, he
concocted a story which he intended to give out to the public on the
morrow.
As far as his wife was concerned, he had no doubt that she was
wandering about in the upper darkness at the very top of the tower,
for it never occurred to him that she could have escaped. He supposed
that she had merely climbed out of one window and into another, and
so effected an entrance to his rooms where was kept all the electric
machinery with which he manipulated the sun.
While he was fussing and fuming, raging at the parrot and scolding the
gargoyles, his pretty little wife was in close confab with Sally and
Bedelia.
“I don’t exactly understand about that letter tree,” Sally remarked, as
she softly scratched the little bear’s fuzzy ears and at the same time
gently patted Nellie’s little hand that lay upon her knee.
The three were stretched cosily on the Polar Bear rug in front of the
glowing grate, having put on kimonos and let down their back hair—at
least, all but Bedelia who wore her usual fur costume.
“Well, my dear,” replied the Weather Prophet, “you see we have no
postal system such as yours, and indeed it is quite unnecessary.
Whenever we want to communicate with anyone, we simply think our
message just as hard as we can, and very shortly our thoughts burst
forth into buds and blossoms on one of our letter trees. There are
quite a good many of them in Toyland.”
“And how does your friend know?” inquired Sally.
“Oh, one’s friend always has an impression that a letter is waiting.
You had one, although you didn’t know it, or you would not have taken
the road to the letter tree,” replied the Weather Prophet.
“How very wonderful!” exclaimed the child, while Bedelia, who had been
rubbing her head gently against Sally, remarked that it certainly made
a wonderful saving in stamps and stationery.
“And there is one thing I have to confess,” went on the Weather
Prophet, suddenly holding up a small, glittering object which Sally at
once recognized as her little golden key. “Had it not been for this, I
never could have gained access to all the private rooms and closets of
the Wizard’s tower, although I climbed out of my own window and in at
his. The gargoyles, whom you know I fear and despise, were loose in the
hall outside my door so I had to choose the other way.”
“But how did you get the key?” demanded the little girl, as she
smilingly hung it on her gold chain and replaced the two around her
neck. “I never missed it,” she added.
“You dropped it the day you were in my house, and I fancied, as soon as
I saw it, that it was a magic key. Of course, I meant to return it the
very next time I saw you, but no opportunity offered. Take good care of
it, my dear. It is a wonderful little talisman.”
Sally nodded assent to this and presently all three, being tired out
with the day’s adventures, tumbled into bed, Sally feeling delighted to
be back once more in her own cosy little room.