APPLES AND NUTS
I love old women best, I think;
She knows a friend in me.--ASHE.
It _was_ market-day, to Leonore's great delight, and scarcely less to
that of her governess. The scene was a busy and amusing one, and added
to that was the charm of everything being so new to the little girl. She
wanted to buy all sorts of treasures, but when Fraulein reminded her
that there was no hurry, and that she would probably have plenty of
chances of choosing the things that took her fancy at the yearly fair at
Dorf, or in the little village shops there, she gave in, and contented
herself with some delicious tiny pots and jugs, which she declared must
_really_ have been made by fairies.
'You are in the country of fairies now,' said Fraulein, smiling. 'Not
Fairyland itself, of course, but one of the earth countries which lie
nearest its borders.'
Leonore looked up gravely. Some feeling of the kind had already come
over her--ever since their arrival the night before at the queer old
inn, she had felt herself in a sort of new world, new to her just
because of its strange oldness.
'Oh, Fraulein,' she said, 'I do like you to say that. Do you really mean
it? And is Dorf as near Fairyland as this dear old town, do you think?'
'Quite, I should say,' replied Fraulein, taking up the little girl's
fancy. 'Even nearer, perhaps. There are wonderful old woods on one side
of the village, which look like the very home of gnomes and kobolds and
all kinds of funny people. And----' she broke off abruptly, for Leonore
had given her arm a sudden tug.
'Do look, Fraulein,' she said in a half whisper. '_Isn't_ she like an
old fairy? And she's smiling as if she understood what we were saying.'
'She' was a tiny little old woman, seated in a corner of the
market-place, with her goods for sale spread out before her. These were
but a poor display--a few common vegetables, a trayful of not very
inviting-looking apples, small and grayish, and a basket filled with
nuts. But the owner of these seemed quite content. She glanced up as
Leonore stopped to gaze at her and smiled--a bright, half-mischievous
sort of smile, which was reflected in her twinkling eyes, and made her
old brown wrinkled face seem like that of an indiarubber doll.
Fraulein looked at her too with interest in her own kindly blue eyes.
'She must be very poor,' she said.
Fraulein was very practical, though she was fond of fairy stories and
such things too.
'Oh, do let us buy something from her,' said Leonore. 'I've plenty of
money, you know--and if you'll lend me a little, you can pay yourself
back when you get my English gold pound changed, can't you, dear
Fraulein? I have spent those funny pretence-silver pennies you gave me
yesterday.'
Fraulein opened her purse and put two small coins into the child's hand.
'Buy apples with one of these,' she said; 'that will be enough to please
the poor old thing.'
'And nuts with the other?' asked Leonore.
Fraulein shook her head.
'Nuts are so indigestible, my little girl,' she replied; 'and though
these apples are not pretty, I am not sure but that they may taste
better than they look. I have a sort of remembrance of some ugly little
gray apples in this neighbourhood which were rather famous.'
Her 'pretence-silver' penny procured for Leonore a good handful, or
handkerchief-full--for the fruit-seller had no paper-bags to put them
in--of the apples. And when she had got them safe, and was turning away,
the old woman stretched out a brown wizened hand again with another of
her queer smiles.
[Illustration: "TAKE THESE," SHE SAID, "FOR GOOD LUCK."]
'Take these,' she said, 'for good luck.'
'These' were a few of the nuts. If Leonore had wished to refuse them,
she could hardly have done so, for before she had time to do more than
thank the giver politely, the dame was busy talking to some other
customer, who had stopped in front of her little table.
Fraulein had walked on. Leonore ran after her.
'See,' she said, holding out her nuts, 'see what the old woman gave me.
What shall I do with them, if I mustn't eat them? I don't like to throw
them away, when she gave me them as a present.'
'No, of course not,' said Fraulein at once. 'Put them in your jacket
pocket, dear, and perhaps you may eat two or three of them when we go
in.'
Leonore slipped the nuts into her pocket as she was told, and soon
after, the clock of the great church striking twelve, she and her
governess made their way back to the hotel.
'I do not want you to be tired,' said Fraulein, 'for this afternoon I
should like to take you to see one or two of the curious old houses
here, as well as the interior of the church'; for the market and the
shops had taken up Leonore's attention so much, that they had had no
time for anything else in the way of sight-seeing.
Dinner was rather a long affair, and tried the little girl's patience.
There seemed twice or three times as many dishes as were needed, even
though there were several other guests at the long table besides
themselves, none of whom, however, were very interesting.
'I hope we shan't have such a lot to eat at your aunt's house,
Fraulein,' said Leonore in a low voice, towards the end of the meal,
with a sigh. 'It seems such a pity not to be out-of-doors, when it's so
bright and sunny.'
'We shall have plenty of time, dear,' said her governess. 'See, we are
at dessert now. And you will probably feel more tired this evening than
you expect. No, my aunt lives more simply, though you will like her
puddings and cakes, I am sure.'
The afternoon passed very pleasantly and quickly, though, as Fraulein
had expected, Leonore did feel more tired when they came in for the
second time than she had thought she would be, and quite ready for
bed-time when it came--indeed, not sorry to allow that the dustman's
summons was there, half an hour or so earlier than usual.
'Your eyes are looking quite sleepy, my child,' said Fraulein; 'and
though we have no more long railway journeys before us, we have a drive
of some hours to-morrow, and I should like you to reach Dorf feeling
quite fresh. It makes such a difference in one's impressions of things
if one is tired or not, and I do want your first feelings about our
temporary home to be very pleasant ones.'
Leonore was used to her governess's rather prim, long-winded way of
saying things, and had learnt by practice to pick out the kernel--always
a kind one--of her speeches very quickly.
'Yes,' she said, 'I know how you mean. Last night in the railway train,
before we got here, I thought everything was perfectly horrid and
miserable and would never get nice again. And to-day I've been so
happy--even though I _am_ tired and sleepy now,' she added, looking
rather puzzled. 'There must be different ways of being tired, I
suppose.'
'Undoubtedly there are--but we won't talk any more to-night. I am so
glad you have been happy to-day.'
And sleepy Leonore went off to bed, and was soon in dreamland. She had
forgotten all about her apples and nuts--the former Fraulein found tied
up in the handkerchief after the little girl had fallen asleep, and put
them into her travelling-bag, thinking they might be nice to eat during
the drive the next day, but the nuts did not come into her mind at all.
'We certainly seem very lucky,' she said to Leonore the next morning, as
they were at breakfast. 'The weather could not be better, especially
when we remember that it is already late autumn. My aunt will be so
pleased at it; her last letter was full of regrets about the rain and
fears of its lasting.'
Leonore glanced towards the window. The clear gray-blue sky was to be
seen above the blinds, and the pale yellow sunshine was straying in as
if to wish them good-morning.
'Is it a very long drive to Dorf?' she asked.
'About three hours,' Fraulein replied. 'It is longer through being
partly uphill; but at the steepest bit the road is very pretty, so it
may be pleasant to get out and walk a little.'
'Yes, I should like that,' said Leonore. And then Fraulein went on to
tell her that she had arranged for them to have dinner a little earlier
than usual by themselves, so as to start in good time to reach Dorf by
daylight.
And when they started in a comfortable though rather shabby carriage,
with their lighter luggage strapped on behind, the horses' collar bells
ringing merrily, and the wheels making what Leonore called a lovely
clatter on the old paved streets, the little girl's spirits rose still
higher, and she began to think that Fraulein's praises of her own
country had not been too great.
The first half of the way was fairly level, and not, so it seemed to
Leonore, very unlike the part of England where she had spent most of her
life, except, that is to say, the two or three villages through which
they passed. These reminded her of pictures of Switzerland which she
had seen--the houses having high pointed roofs, with deep eaves, and
many of them little staircases outside. Some of them too were gaily
painted in colours on a white ground, which she admired very much. And
after a time the road began gently to ascend, and then indeed, as
Fraulein said, the likeness to Switzerland grew greater. For now it
skirted pine woods on one side, and on the other the ground fell away
sharply, here and there almost like a precipice; and before very long
the driver pulled up, getting down to push a heavy stone behind the
wheel, to prevent the carriage slipping back while he gave the horses a
rest.
'Mayn't we get out here and walk on a little way?' asked Leonore, and
Fraulein said 'Yes,' it was just what she had been intending.
'It _is_ pretty here,' said Leonore, looking about her with
satisfaction; 'the woods are so thick and dark--I love Christmas-tree
woods--and the road goes winding such a nice funny way. And see,
Fraulein, there's another little well, all mossy, and the water _so_
clear. Doesn't the running and trickling sound pretty? And, oh yes,
there are goats down there, goats with bells. I hear them tinkling, and
the man with them has some kind of a music-pipe--listen, Fraulein.'
They stood still for a moment, the better to catch the mingled soft
sounds which Leonore spoke of. And behind them, some little way off,
came the tingling of their horses' louder bells, and the voice of the
driver talking to them and cracking his whip encouragingly.
'It _is_ nice,' said Leonore. 'I'm getting to be very glad papa settled
for me to come here with you, Fraulein.'
The good lady's eyes sparkled with pleasure.
'And I am glad too, more glad than I can say,' she replied, 'and so will
my kind aunt be, if we can make you really happy at Dorf.'
'Are we half-way there yet?' asked Leonore.
'Quite that, but the rest of the way is mostly uphill, so it takes
longer, you see.' As she spoke, Fraulein drew something out of the
little bag on her arm which she was seldom without. It was one of the
small grayish apples which they had bought from the old woman in the
market-place. 'You forgot these,' she said, holding the apple out to
Leonore. 'I found them last night after you were asleep, and I thought
you might like one or two on our way to-day. I believe they will prove
very good.'
'How stupid of me to have forgotten them,' said the little girl, as she
bit off a piece. 'Yes,' she went on, 'it is very good indeed--you would
not believe how sweet and juicy it tastes. Won't you eat one yourself?'
Fraulein was quite willing to do so, and soon got out another. 'The
rest,' she said, 'are in my travelling-bag in the carriage. I am glad I
was not mistaken,' she went on. 'I felt sure they were the same ugly
little apples I remember as a child.'
'And oh,' said Leonore, suddenly diving into her jacket pocket, 'that
reminds me, Fraulein--where are the nuts she gave me? They're not in
this pocket, and,' feeling in the other, 'oh dear! they must have
dropped out; there are only three left, and I am sure she gave me at
least twenty.'
'Well, never mind, dear,' said the governess, who was contentedly
munching her apple. 'They would not have been good for you to eat--you
would have had to throw them away, and so long as the poor old dame's
feelings were not hurt, it really is of no consequence.'
But Leonore was still eyeing the three nuts in her hand with a look of
regret.
'I don't know,' she said. 'I might have used them for counters, or
played with them somehow. It seems unkind to have lost them--do you want
me to throw these last three away?' she went on rather plaintively.
'Oh no,' said Fraulein, 'you may keep them certainly if you like. And
even if you eat them, _three_ can't do you much harm.'
'I don't want to eat them,' said Leonore, 'but I should like to _keep_
them,' and she stowed them away in her pocket again with a more
satisfied look on her face.
As she did so, a sound, seemingly quite near, made her start and look
round. It was that of a soft yet merry laugh, low and musical and clear,
though faint.
'Did you hear that, Fraulein?' said the little girl.
'What?' asked her governess.
'Somebody laughing, close to us--such a pretty laugh, like little silver
bells.'
'Most likely it was the bells, the goats' little bells. I heard nothing
else,' Fraulein replied.
Leonore shook her head.
'No,' she said,' it was different from that, quite different. And the
goats are some way off now; listen, you can only just hear them. And the
laughing was quite near.'
But Fraulein only smiled.
'There could not have been any one quite near without my hearing it
too,' she replied, 'even if----' but here she stopped. She had said
enough, however, to rouse her pupil's curiosity.
'Even if what?' repeated Leonore; 'do tell me what you were going to
say, dear Fraulein.'
'I was only joking, or going to joke,' her governess answered. 'It came
into my head that the woods about here--as indeed about most parts of
this country--are said to be a favourite place for the fairies to visit.
_Some_ kinds of fairies, you know--gnomes and brownies and such like.
The kinds that don't live in Fairyland itself make their homes in the
woods, by preference to anywhere else.'
'And do you think it _might_ have been one of them I heard laughing?'
asked Leonore eagerly. 'Oh, how lovely! But then, why didn't you hear it
too, Fraulein, and what was it laughing at, do you think? I wasn't
saying anything funny. I was only----'
'Dear child,' said Fraulein, 'do not take me up so seriously. I am
afraid your papa and your aunts would not think me at all a sensible
governess if they heard me chattering away like this to you. Of course I
was only joking.'
Leonore looked rather disappointed.
'I wish you _weren't_ joking,' she said. 'I can't see that people need
be counted silly who believe in fairies and nice queer things like that.
_I_ think the people who don't are the stupid silly ones. And you will
never make me think I _didn't_ hear some one laugh, Fraulein--I just
know I did.' Then after a little pause she added, 'Would your old aunt
think me very silly for believing about fairies? If she has lived so
near Fairyland all her life I shouldn't think she would.'
This was rather a poser for poor Fraulein.
'She would not think you _silly_!' she replied; 'that is to say, she
loves fairy stories herself. Life would indeed be very dull if we had no
pretty fancies to brighten it with.'
'Oh, but,' said Leonore, 'that's just what I don't want. I mean I don't
want to count fairy stories _only_ stories--not real. I like to think
there _are_ fairies and brownies and gnomes, and all sorts of good
people like that, though it isn't very often that mortals'--she said
the last word with great satisfaction--'see them. I am always hoping
that some day _I_ shall. And if this country of yours, Fraulein dear, is
on the borders of Fairyland, I don't see why I don't run a very good
chance of coming across some of them while we are here. They are much
more likely to show themselves to any one who does believe in them, I
should say. Don't you think so?'
Fraulein laughed.
'I remember feeling just as you do, my child, when I was a little girl,'
she said. 'But time has gone on, and I am no longer young, and I am
obliged to confess that I have never seen a fairy.'
'Perhaps you didn't believe _enough_ in them,' said Leonore sagely; and
to herself she added, 'I have a sort of idea that Fraulein's aunt knows
more about them than Fraulein does. I shall soon find out, though I
won't say anything for a day or two till I see. But nothing will ever
make me believe that I didn't hear somebody laughing just now.'
Her hand had strayed again to her jacket pocket as she said this to
herself, and her fingers were feeling the nuts.
'It is funny that just three are left,' she thought, 'for so often in
fairy stories you read about three nuts, or three kernels. I won't
crack _my_ nuts in a hurry, however.'
A few minutes more brought them to the summit of the steep incline, and
soon the driver's voice and the cracking of his whip as he cheered up
his horses sounded close behind them. He halted for a short time to give
his animals a little rest, and then Fraulein and Leonore got back into
the carriage.
'The rest of the way is almost level,' said the former; 'quite so as we
enter Dorf. You will see, Leonore, how fast we shall go at the end. The
drivers love to make a clatter and jingle to announce their arrival. No
doubt my aunt will hear it, and be at the gate some minutes before she
can possibly see us.'
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF HILDEGARDE.]