But Elsie wouldn't have the escort.
'It's very kind,' she said, 'but the dragon only eats crows, and I'm not
a crow, thank goodness--I mean I'm not a crow--and if I've got to be
brave I'd like to _be_ brave, and none of you to get eaten. If only some
one will come with me to show me the way and then run back as hard as he
can when we get near the dragon. _Please!_'
'If only one goes _I_ shall be the one,' said the King. And he and Elsie
went through the great gates side by side. She held the end of his wing,
which was the nearest they could get to hand in hand.
The crowd outside waited in breathless silence. Elsie and the King went
on through the winding paths of the People's Park. And by the winding
paths they came at last to the Dragon. He lay very peacefully on a great
stone slab, his enormous bat-like wings spread out on the grass and his
goldy-green scales glittering in the pretty pink sunset light.
'Go back!' said Elsie.
'No,' said the King.
'If you don't,' said Elsie, '_I_ won't go _on_. Seeing a crow might
rouse him to fury, or give him an appetite, or something. Do--do go!'
So he went, but not far. He hid behind a tree, and from its shelter he
watched.
Elsie drew a long breath. Her heart was thumping under the black frock.
'Suppose,' she thought, 'he takes me for a crow!' But she thought how
yellow her hair was, and decided that the dragon would be certain to
notice that.
'Quick march!' she said to herself, 'remember Joan of Arc,' and walked
right up to the dragon. It never moved, but watched her suspiciously out
of its bright green eyes.
'Dragon dear!' she said in her clear little voice.
'_Eh?_' said the dragon, in tones of extreme astonishment.
'Dragon dear,' she repeated, 'do you like sugar?'
'_Yes_,' said the dragon.
'Well, I've brought you some. You won't hurt me if I bring it to you?'
The dragon violently shook its vast head.
'It's not much,' said Elsie, 'but I saved it at tea-time. Four lumps.
Two for each of my mugs of milk.'
She laid the sugar on the stone slab by the dragon's paw.
It turned its head towards the sugar. The pinky sunset light fell on its
face, and Elsie saw that it was weeping! Great fat tears as big as prize
pears were coursing down its wrinkled cheeks.
'Oh, don't,' said Elsie, '_don't_ cry! Poor dragon, what's the matter?'
'Oh!' sobbed the dragon, 'I'm only so glad you've come. I--I've been so
lonely. No one to love me. You _do_ love me, don't you?'
'I--I'm sure I shall when I know you better,' said Elsie kindly.
'Give me a kiss, dear,' said the dragon, sniffing.
It is no joke to kiss a dragon. But Elsie did it--somewhere on the hard
green wrinkles of its forehead.
'Oh, _thank_ you,' said the dragon, brushing away its tears with the tip
of its tail. 'That breaks the charm. I can move now. And I've got back
all my lost wisdom. Come along--I _do_ want my tea!'
So, to the waiting crowd at the gate came Elsie and the dragon side by
side. And at sight of the dragon, tamed, a great shout went up from the
crowd; and at that shout each one in the crowd turned quickly to the
next one--for it was the shout of men, and not of crows. Because at the
first sight of the dragon, tamed, they had left off being crows for ever
and ever, and once again were men.
The King came running through the gates, his royal robes held high, so
that he shouldn't trip over them, and he too was no longer a crow, but a
man.
And what did Elsie feel after being so brave? Well, she felt that she
would like to cry, and also to laugh, and she felt that she loved not
only the dragon, but every man, woman, and child in the whole
world--even Mrs. Staines.
She rode back to the Palace on the dragon's back.
And as they went the crowd of citizens who had been crows met the crowd
of citizens who had been pigeons, and these were poor men in poor
clothes.
It would have done you good to see how the ones who had been rich and
crows ran to meet the ones who had been pigeons and poor.
'Come and stay at my house, brother,' they cried to those who had no
homes. 'Brother, I have many coats, come and choose some,' they cried to
the ragged. 'Come and feast with me!' they cried to all. And the rich
and the poor went off arm in arm to feast and be glad that night, and
the next day to work side by side. 'For,' said the King, speaking with
his hand on the neck of the tamed dragon, 'our land has been called
Crownowland. But we are no longer crows. We are men: and we will be Just
men. And our country shall be called Justnowland for ever and ever. And
for the future we shall not be rich and poor, but fellow-workers, and
each will do his best for his brothers and his own city. And your King
shall be your servant!'
I don't know how they managed this, but no one seemed to think that
there would be any difficulty about it when the King mentioned it; and
when people really make up their minds to do anything, difficulties do
most oddly disappear.
Wonderful rejoicings there were. The city was hung with flags and lamps.
Bands played--the performers a little out of practice, because, of
course, crows can't play the flute or the violin or the trombone--but
the effect was very gay indeed. Then came the time--it was quite
dark--when the King rose up on his throne and spoke; and Elsie, among
all her new friends, listened with them to his words.
'Our deliverer Elsie,' he said, 'was brought hither by the good magic of
our Chief Mage and Prime Minister. She has removed the enchantment that
held us; and the dragon, now that he has had his tea and recovered from
the shock of being kindly treated, turns out to be the second strongest
magician in the world,--and he will help us and advise us, so long as we
remember that we are all brothers and fellow-workers. And now comes the
time when our Elsie must return to her own place, or another go in her
stead. But we cannot send back our heroine, our deliverer.' (_Long, loud
cheering._) 'So one shall take her place. My daughter----'
The end of the sentence was lost in shouts of admiration. But Elsie
stood up, small and white in her black frock, and said, 'No thank you.
Perdona would simply hate it. And she doesn't know my daddy. He'll fetch
me away from Mrs. Staines some day....'
The thought of her daddy, far away in India, of the loneliness of Willow
Farm, where now it would be night in that horrible bare attic where the
poor dead untameable little mouse was, nearly choked Elsie. It was so
bright and light and good and kind here. And India was so far away. Her
voice stayed a moment on a broken note.
'I--I....' Then she spoke firmly.
'Thank you all so much,' she said--'so very much. I do love you all, and
it's lovely here. But, please, I'd like to go home now.'
The Prime Minister, in a silence full of love and understanding, folded
his dark cloak round her.
* * * * *
It was dark in the attic. Elsie crouching alone in the blackness by the
fireplace where the dead mouse had been, put out her hand to touch its
cold fur.
* * * * *
There were wheels on the gravel outside--the knocker swung
strongly--'_Rat_-tat-tat-tat--_Tat_! _Tat_!' A pause--voices--hasty feet
in strong boots sounded on the stairs, the key turned in the lock. The
door opened a dazzling crack, then fully, to the glare of a lamp
carried by Mrs. Staines.
'Come down at once. I'm sure you're good now,' she said, in a great
hurry and in a new honeyed voice.
But there were other feet on the stairs--a step that Elsie knew.
'Where's my girl?' the voice she knew cried cheerfully. But under the
cheerfulness Elsie heard something other and dearer. 'Where's my girl?'
After all, it takes less than a month to come from India to the house in
England where one's heart is.
Out of the bare attic and the darkness Elsie leapt into light, into arms
she knew. 'Oh, my daddy, my daddy!' she cried. 'How glad I am I came
back!'