GNOMELAND
He appeared, sniffed, and sneered,
In a fairy pet.--_Child Nature._
For a moment or two Hildegarde stared down at the little man without
speaking. Then her face lighted up again, and she replied--
'I am very sorry, sir, that I can't tell you, for I have no watch and I
don't know.'
Something like a smile broke over the gnome's countenance.
'All right,' he said, 'you don't know, and you don't pretend you do. And
_I_ don't want to know. Here in our country,' and he waved his hand in a
lordly fashion, 'we have nothing to do with clocks and watches, and time
and hours, and all such fiddle-faddle. We leave that to the poor folk
who can't settle things for themselves, but have to be ruled by the sun
and the moon, and the stars too, for all I know. Some people up there,
where you come from, fancy we make the cuckoo-clocks down here, but
that's all nonsense--we wouldn't waste our time over such rubbish.'
'I thought you said----' began Leonore impulsively. She was getting over
her alarm a little by now--'I thought you said you didn't trouble about
time,' she was _going_ to have added, but a touch from Hildegarde came,
luckily, quickly enough to stop her, and to remind her of the fairy's
warning.
The gnome did not seem to have heard her; he was unfastening the gates.
When he had got them ajar, he stood right in the middle, his head cocked
on one side and his feet well apart, and surveyed the children coolly.
'And who sent you?' he said at last.
'The fairy of the spinning-wheel,' Hildegarde replied.
'Humph--I thought as much,' he remarked. 'And what for, if you please?'
'To pay you and your wonderful country a visit, if you will kindly allow
us to do so,' Hildegarde answered.
'That means that I am to----' he cleared his throat and hesitated for a
moment, then went on again, 'to tire myself out doing showman; I
suppose?' he said rather grumpily.
'I hope not to tire yourself out, sir,' Hildegarde returned in her
politest tone. 'We shall give you as little trouble as possible, but we
are of course very anxious to see all you will kindly show us.'
'All right,' the gnome replied. 'Enter, children of the upper world, and
be welcome,' and he flung open the gates with a flourish, while
Hildegarde and Leonore passed through.
It had seemed to them as they stood waiting that within the entrance was
much the same as outside, but no sooner had they stepped across the
boundary, the doors clanging behind them as they did so, than they found
everything quite different. They were no longer in a rather narrow
passage, but on a broad road, bordered on each side by magnificent rocks
which stretched up so high that they could not see their summit or the
roof. The ground was covered with very fine gravel or white silvery
sand, firm and pleasant to walk upon, and which glistened like pale pink
tinsel in the light. For everywhere was flooded with the soft red or
rosy brilliance they had noticed before they entered, though whence it
came they could not see.
'Why is the light so red?' asked Leonore, gaining some courage again,
though since her last attempt she had not dared to speak. 'We noticed it
outside, and we thought perhaps it came from big fires--furnaces you
know, or forges--like what blacksmiths have.'
The gnome was walking a little in front--at this he turned round.
'And why should we have "big fires," or furnaces, or whatever you call
the clumsy things?' he said, fixing his small bright eyes, which gleamed
redly themselves, on Leonore.
'Oh,' said Leonore, dreadfully afraid that he thought her rude,
'because--because--everybody says you make things like--like blacksmiths
do--with iron and metal stuffs like that.'
'Indeed,' said the gnome, 'and what then? Do you think we denizens of
the under-world are as stupid as your clumsy workmen up above? Wait a
bit; you shall soon see for yourselves.'
'You mustn't think Leonore meant to be rude,' said Hildegarde. 'You see
we are only children, and we don't understand about wonderfully clever
things.'
'Humph,' said the gnome, but he seemed pleased.
They had walked some little way by now, and once or twice their guide
had stopped at what looked like a narrow passage between the rocks, as
if uncertain if he should turn down it or not. Just then they came to
another of these passages, and he looked back at the children.
'Follow me,' he said, 'and you shall see how we work. I am going to show
you the manufacturing of the lucky pennies and horse-shoes.'
'What are lucky pennies?' whispered Leonore to Hildegarde. 'I think I
have heard of them, but I'm not sure.'
'Never mind,' Hildegarde replied in the same tone. 'The gnomes won't be
vexed with us for not knowing things if we are polite and admire their
cleverness, and I am sure they _are_ very clever.'
Then they followed their guide in silence, which soon, however, came to
be broken by the sound of tapping, light sharp tapping, and in another
moment or two, there was added to this a whizzing sound, and now and
then short clear whistles. But the little girls asked no questions and
made no remarks, till suddenly, the passage along which they were
walking coming to an end, they found themselves in a very large
rock-chamber--the sides of which towered up so high that their tops
could not be seen, though everywhere the same clear rose-coloured light
penetrated.
The air was fresh and pleasant, though not cold. The gnomes evidently
possessed the secret of warming their habitation as well as lighting it!
And now were explained the several sounds the children had heard as they
approached the 'manufactory' as their guide had called it.
[Illustration: MANUFACTURING LUCKY PENNIES.]
For the great room--one would have called it a cave perhaps, except that
no cave ever was so lofty--was filled with a crowd of busy workers.
Gnomes of course, some smaller, some a little bigger than the one who
was guiding the children, but all as like each other as a lot of Chinese
seem to us--and all apparently of the same age. A few were standing, but
most were sitting, and in front of each was a small rock-table, on which
lay tools of glistening silver. There were tiny hammers which explained
the tapping, and little wheels revolving so rapidly that when in motion
they could not be seen. And every now and then a gnome lifted a kind of
tube or pipe to his mouth, through which he blew with a whistling sound,
on to the piece of metal he was working at. None of them spoke; they
all seemed absorbed in what they were doing.
The guide-gnome signed to the children to come close up to one little
earth-man and watch what he was doing.
He was beating a round piece of copper with his fairy-like hammer, and
blowing upon it between times through his whistling tube.
'There now,' said the first gnome, speaking at last. 'Is not that better
than your scorching furnaces? That tube is a heat-tube--every time he
blows through it, it melts, or at least softens the metal, without any
fuss or trouble.'
'Really!' exclaimed Hildegarde, 'what a good plan! I wish we had
heat-tubes to warm our fingers with in winter.'
'Better not wish for anything of the kind,' replied their guide. 'You
up-above people are a long way from such things yet. You'd only burn
your fingers off.'
'Thank you,' said Hildegarde respectfully. 'I daresay we should. But
will you kindly explain about lucky pennies. Is that one he is making?'
'Yes,' replied the gnome. 'You good, near-sighted people,' and he jerked
his thumb upwards, 'don't see the difference. You don't know when you
get hold of a lucky penny or not--but a great many are sent up to your
world, all the same, and that is why some folk seem to succeed with you
and some not. _Partly_ the reason, that is to say, for the holders of
lucky pennies must be honest, otherwise our coins do them more harm than
good.'
'How wonderful!' said Leonore. 'But if you make such a great many, where
do you send the others to? _All_ our pennies are not lucky pennies.'
The gnome screwed up his eyes and looked at her.
'That's all I am at liberty to tell you,' he said. 'There are other
worlds besides yours that _we_ know about though you don't,' and Leonore
saw that she was not to question him further.
'Perhaps,' she thought to herself, 'there are people in the moon after
all, and some of the lucky pennies go there.'
The gnome seemed pleased by her respectful manner. He said something in
a low voice to the little man they had been watching, who thereupon
handed him two bright copper pieces.
'Here,' he said, 'here is a souvenir for each of you--a real lucky
penny. Never part with them except in direst need, which with them in
your possession is not likely ever to befall you.'
The children were very pleased, and thanked him most politely.
'And now,' he said, 'as we pass on, you may glance at the other side of
the manufactory, where we are employed on horse-shoes,' and he crossed
between the rows of little men, each at his table, to where several were
seated together at a larger one.
Hildegarde gave an exclamation of disappointment.
'What are they doing?' she cried. 'Mending _old_ horse-shoes? What ugly
things!'
'You foolish child,' said the gnome. 'How little you appreciate our
skill! Of course the work they are doing is much more difficult than
making pretty things. They are copying old horse-shoes after the clumsy
earth fashion. Who would use a _new_ one for luck, I should like to
know, and how little do you people up there think when you pick up an
old cast-off horse-shoe, as you think, what it really is, and where it
has come from.'
Hildegarde felt rather snubbed. It was the first time she had forgotten
the fairy's warning.
'How _very_ clever!' she said.
'Yes, indeed,' Leonore agreed. 'I shall always pick up horse-shoes when
I see them now. And if you please, Mr. Gnome----'
But her sentence was never finished, for just as she had got so far,
their guide suddenly clapped his hands. There came a rush of cold air in
the children's faces, so sharply, that without knowing it, they both
shut their eyes. And when they opened them again, the big chamber and
the busy workers had disappeared--they found themselves--still in the
under-world, but in quite a different part of it.
Here the light was no longer red, but a pale pretty green--a green which
did not make things or people look pale and sickly, but only cast a soft
radiance, such as one sees in the woods in the early spring. And to add
to this impression there was a faint sound of running or trickling water
near at hand.
Hildegarde and Leonore rubbed their eyes and looked at each other; they
almost felt as if they were dreaming.
'Where have we got to?' said Leonore; but as she looked about her a
little she saw that they were still surrounded by the high rocks which
seemed to be the walls and boundaries of the under-world.
'And how did we get here?' added Hildegarde laughing. 'It felt as if we
were _blown_ here.'
'And so you were,' said a voice beside them, and turning, they caught
sight of their old friend the gnome again. 'There was no object in
tiring you with walking all through our domains--what brought you was
one of our little inventions--the simplest in the world--for those who
understand such things,' he added with condescension.
'And if you please where are we, and what are you going to show us now?'
they inquired.
'You are at the entrance to our gardens, where I am going to show you
our flower designs. You have doubtless never been told how many of your
upper-world plants and flowers owe their existence to _us_.'
'Really!' exclaimed Hildegarde; and then, as a sudden thought struck
her, 'oh, I _wonder_,' she cried, 'if those very, very queer flowers
that we see in hot-houses and sometimes in gardens too--what do they
call them--or--or--? I wonder if _they_ are invented by your gardeners.'
The gnome smiled condescendingly.
'You mean orchids,' he said. 'Ah well, you will soon see for
yourselves. And now,' he went on, 'I must bid you farewell, for the
present at any rate, though who knows but that some day you may again
visit the under-world. You will meet with no difficulties now. On
leaving the gardens you may, if you like, pass through toy-land, and
there you will see some of _our_ children. That, I think, must be the
limit of your sight-seeing--any more would be too much for you to take
in. I have the honour to bid you adieu.'
He took off his cap with a flourish, bowing like a master of ceremonies.
'Goodbye, sir, and thank you very much,' said the little girls, but as
they said the words, lo and behold the gnome had disappeared!
'That must be another of their inventions,' said Hildegarde, at which
they both laughed.
All the same, in their hearts they were not quite sure if they were glad
or sorry to be left to themselves, though neither liked to say so to the
other.
They gazed about them. Behind were the rock passages they had grown
accustomed to, but looking longer and dimmer, perhaps in contrast with
the pale green light which had something more natural and more like the
upper world about it.
And just in front of them was a curious sort of palisade--or
paling--with openings at regular intervals, though too narrow to see
anything through, unless one placed one's eyes quite close. And this it
was not worth while to do, for another glance showed them a door in the
paling, and a bell, of the same pattern as the one at the first
entrance, only in silver instead of in bronze or copper.
Hildegarde rung it. The door opened almost at once, but no one was to be
seen. So they walked in.
The change of scene was complete. It was a garden, but a very queer one.
Instead of lawns of grass, there were wide spaces covered with fine
glittering sand of different shades of green; the paths between were
brown, and stooping closer to examine them the children found that they
consisted of very small round pebbles, something like toffee drops, so
smooth and yet elastic that they did not hurt the feet at all. But the
flower-beds were the oddest of all. They were filled with plants and
flowers of the strangest shapes and colours you can--or rather
'can_not_'--imagine. And when Leonore put out her hand to touch one, she
started in surprise; they were made of fine metal.
So far, they had seen no one, but just as they were beginning to wonder
which way they should go, and if they were to meet no more of the
inhabitants of gnomeland, they saw toddling towards them the very
queerest little figure they had ever seen out of a picture-book! It was
that of a very _very_ old gnome--'the great-grandfather of all the
gnomes surely,' whispered Hildegarde to Leonore. And it was with
difficulty they restrained their laughter.
Nor was it easier to do so when the little man came closer to them. He
was so _very_ comical-looking. But mindful of the fairy's advice, both
children kept perfectly grave and greeted the newcomer with a low
courtesy.
'Well,' was all he said, and then stood wrinkling up his face, though
you would have thought he could not screw it any higher than it was, and
blinking up at them with his funny little eyes. Somehow they did not
feel much in awe of him after all.
'Well?' he said again, this time in a more questioning tone of voice.
'If you please,' Hildegarde replied. 'May we walk through your--garden?'
She could not help hesitating a little at the last word, for somehow the
more she looked at the queer place they were in, the less like a garden
it seemed. 'We won't pick any of the flowers.'
'You couldn't if you tried,' said the old gnome.
'Why not?' asked Hildegarde. 'I don't see any gardeners about.'
'They are all at their supper,' he replied.
'Supper,' replied Hildegarde. 'How early they must have it.'
'We don't know anything about late and early,' he said. 'But young
things like them need plenty of food. Why, I don't believe the eldest of
them is more than three hundred years old, counting the way you do up in
your country.'
It was all the children could do not to call out in astonishment; they
did not do so, however, fearing it might sound rude.
'Do you count gardening easy work, then, if you put such young gnomes to
do it?' Leonore inquired.
The gnome nodded--a sort of nod that took in things in general----
'This kind of gardening--yes,' he replied. 'It's only dusting the
plants, and straightening the stems if they are bent, and raking the
beds and paths. Designing's a different thing--_that_ takes experience.
But you can stroll through if you like, and see for yourselves,' and
with another nod, he toddled off again.
'How old must _he_ be,' exclaimed Leonore in an awe-struck tone, 'if he
counts hundreds of years nothing! I wonder what he meant by saying we
could not pick flowers if we tried.'
Hildegarde walked on to where a border of strange blossoms, brilliant in
colour and most grotesque in shape, stood in perfect motionlessness. She
touched two or three of them gently before she spoke. Then----
'Leonore,' cried she, 'they're _not_ flowers. They're made of metal.'
Leonore sprang forward.
'Oh that's what he meant by saying they needed "dusting" and
"straightening,"' she exclaimed. 'Oh, Hildegarde, how queer everything
is down here--don't you think we had better go home?'
'Not till we have seen a little more,' said Hildegarde. 'There's nothing
to be afraid of. My fairy wouldn't have let us come if there could be
anything to hurt us.'
'No--not exactly that,' said Leonore, 'but it's all so _queer_.'
'Come along quickly then,' Hildegarde replied. 'I don't care for this
garden, if there's nothing really alive and growing in it. But I daresay
we will soon get to somewhere else.'
And so, before very long, they did. They passed quantities of
flower-beds and rows, so dazzling in colour and extraordinary in shape
that they felt as if they were looking through some fantastic
kaleidoscope.
Suddenly a rushing noise made them glance round in the direction whence
it came. It was soon explained--a crowd of gnomes were racing towards
them; on they came, running, jumping, chattering, and shouting at the
top of their voices.
'It's the gardeners,' said Leonore. 'Oh, Hildegarde, I am rather
frightened--they might play tricks on us. Do let us get out of their
way,' and Hildegarde, to confess the truth, was not unwilling to do so.
'Let us run down here,' she said, turning as she spoke, for they were
just then passing a side row of high plants which could hide them from
view of the approaching crowd.
No sooner said than done. They set off running at full speed, scarcely
glancing where they were going, the noise behind them lessening as they
ran, till it ceased altogether; and breathless, but glad to have escaped
the bevy of gnomes, they at last stood still.
'Now,' said Hildegarde, 'let's look about and see where we've got to.'