Sister Agatha scarcely knew she had spoken at all. But if ever she
stepped away from the band, which seemed to make a great noise close to
Mary's ears, Mary began to look tearful, so, although she felt rather
heavy and Sister Agatha's arms were beginning to ache, she let the child
stay on, until presently she found that she was fast asleep. And the
next thing Mary knew was that she was sitting on her own bed, whilst
Sister Agatha took off her stockings, and all the wonders she had seen
were at an end for the present.
VI
MARY IS TAKEN AWAY
Mary quite believed that she was living in an enchanted place where she
would always be able to have everything she wanted, and even a great
many things she did not want in the least. Where there would always be
plenty of nice things to eat and drink, and Evangeline to tell her
stories as nobody had done before.
She hoped she should never see Mrs. Coppert again as long as she lived,
because Evangeline had said that she should not go away until her foot
was well again, and although it was certainly better it was not quite
well yet.
But there were times when Mary felt just a little afraid, for now and
then she dreamed she was back at William Street, where everything seemed
much worse than it used to be. And one morning the tall man with the
long beard looked at her foot a great while, and when it was covered
over again, he quite frightened Mary.
'It is very much better,' he said, 'and there is no reason why she
should not try to walk. In fact, the sooner she goes away the better.'
'There now,' said Sister Agatha when he had gone, 'what do you think of
that? Won't it be nice to walk again? You will like that, won't you?'
'No,' answered Mary; 'I shan't like it at all. I don't want to walk.'
'Oh yes, you will like it!' said Sister Agatha. 'Now suppose you try to
walk across the room.'
Mary rose from her chair, and Sister Agatha held her hand while she
limped along by her side. It felt odd to be walking again, and Sister
Agatha suggested she should race with her doll. So the doll was placed
in a corner, and then Sister Agatha turned the key, which was necessary,
she said, because the doll could not eat as Mary did, and the race
began. But although Mary seemed to walk much more slowly than the doll,
who made a great fuss whenever it walked a few yards, she reached the
door first. Sister Agatha clapped her hands, and gave Mary a prize; she
gave her a lump of sugar.
But although Mary laughed about the race, she began to look miserable
again when she remembered that the tall man had said she was to go away,
for of all things in the world she did not wish to leave Evangeline and
Sister Agatha. When Evangeline came to see her that afternoon, Mary
clasped her small arms round her neck and clung to her, and cried,
'Please don't send me away! Pray don't send me back to Mrs. Coppert!'
'Why, my dear child,' said Evangeline; 'I am not going to send you back.
I have never dreamed of such a thing.'
'But he said I was to go away,' answered Mary.
'So you are going away,' Evangeline explained; 'but not to William
Street. Sister Agatha and I are going with you, and I think you will
like it very much indeed.'
'I shall if you and Sister Agatha go,' said Mary, and now she felt more
satisfied, and she spent a happy afternoon with her toys. She went to
bed quite happily, but when her head had been some time on the pillow
Evangeline entered the room.
'Poor child!' she said, 'is she asleep yet?'
'Yes,' answered Sister Agatha, looking down at Mary's closed eyes; 'she
did not lie awake long to-night.'
'How alarmed she was at the idea of leaving us,' said Evangeline
quietly.
'And yet,' answered Sister Agatha, 'it is certain she can't stay here
for ever. You will have to make up your mind what is to be done before
long. Mary will soon be quite well again; besides, you will have other
things to think of.'
This conversation made Mary feel uncomfortable again. Of course she
ought not to have listened to it; she ought to have sat up in bed, or at
least to have called out to let Evangeline know she was not asleep. But
the fact was that Mary felt so interested to hear anything about herself
that she could not resist the temptation to listen, and after Evangeline
had gone downstairs again she still kept her eyes shut, although it was
late before she really fell asleep that night.
There were so many other things to think of that she soon forgot all
about her fear of going back to William Street, especially when Sister
Agatha began to pack a trunk with Mary's clothes and toys. She told her
they were going into the country--she and Evangeline and Mary. Of course
Mary had no idea what the country could be like, but she tried to find
out by asking a great many questions. Sister Agatha said there were
fields instead of houses, and trees instead of lamp-posts, but Mary did
not understand very clearly what a field was like; still the morning
came when they were to start, and Mary was ready first. When she stood
before the looking-glass with her new hat and jacket on, really she
hardly knew herself. It seemed as if Evangeline must have changed her as
Cinderella was changed, for you remember that even Cinderella's sisters
did not recognise her at the ball.
Mary Brown stood before the tall glass, and she saw a little girl with a
rather pale face; it looked very clean, and her brown hair was carefully
tied back with ribbon. She wore tan-coloured stockings and high button
boots, and altogether it was a little difficult to believe she was the
same Mary Brown who used to wear the ragged dress and to make mud pies
in the gutter.
She went downstairs holding Sister Agatha's hand, and on reaching the
hall she saw two very tall men in pale blue coats and white stockings.
Although they looked quite young men their hair was white, and one of
them took Mary in his arms to carry her across the pavement to a
carriage that was waiting before the door. It seemed so nice to be out
in the sunshine that Mary laughed aloud, but she was soon seated in the
carriage with Evangeline and Sister Agatha; then the horses started, and
presently they reached a large railway station. Mary knew all about
trains, because there was a bridge over William Street, and whilst she
played in the road they used to rush by overhead with a noise like
thunder. But she had never entered a train before, so that she felt
curious to see what it would be like inside. She thought it seemed very
nice, with soft blue cushions to sit upon, and windows to look out at.
Presently the train began to move, and looking out at the window Mary
saw rows and rows of houses which looked very much like those in William
Street. But when the houses were left behind Mary opened her eyes very
widely; she thought she had never seen anything quite so wonderful as
this! Not even the wonderful things she had seen the night Sister Agatha
carried her downstairs had astonished her so much! For there were no
houses, and she had never seen ground without houses until now.
She looked upon wide open spaces, with dozens of trees and oxen in green
meadows, and the consequence was that she began to ask so many questions
that Sister Agatha suggested that she should sit down and try to go to
sleep.
'Oh no, thank you,' answered Mary, 'I'm not at all sleepy. I'd much
sooner look out of window.'
'I thought perhaps you would like me to tell you a story,' said
Evangeline.
'Yes, I should like you to tell me a story!' cried Mary, and she climbed
down from the seat and nestled close to Evangeline's side.
VII
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE GIRL, THE DOG, AND THE DOLL
Once upon a time there was a little girl whose name was Bertha. She had
no brother or sister, but she had two very dear friends: one was a doll
with a broken nose and only half an arm; the other was a white terrier
with a brown patch on his back, a short stump of a tail, and a cold
black nose.
The dog's name was Samuel, and whilst he was very fond of Bertha he was
deeply attached to Moggy too; Moggy, you understand, was the doll. Moggy
might often be seen leaning against the nursery fender, with Samuel by
her side blinking solemnly at the fire. But every now and then he would
turn to look at Moggy, and put out his tongue and waggle his stumpy tail
from side to side on the carpet.
Though Samuel wore a handsome collar he had quite forgotten what a chain
was, for he had not been tied up for years. He never slept in the old
kennel outside the kitchen door, because he preferred the mat in the
hall.
Now, for a long time Moggy had slept on Bertha's pillow, and though
Bertha had other dolls who were much prettier than Moggy she never took
them to bed with her. But one day--it was Bertha's birthday--her mother
bought her the prettiest doll she could find, a doll that opened and
shut her eyes.
'I really think,' said Mrs. Western when Bertha bade her good-night,
'you ought to take the new doll to bed with you, or what is the use of
having a doll who can go to sleep?'
'What would Moggy do?' asked Bertha, looking doubtful about it.
'Moggy is really too old to be jealous,' answered her mother.
So Bertha said she would take the new doll to bed, then she went
upstairs with Samuel who was always in the room whilst she undressed.
Bertha slept in a room by herself, but there was a door that led to her
mother's room and this stood open all night. Moggy lay on the round
table in the middle of the room, and she looked very shabby beside the
fine new doll; still Bertha felt sorry for her as she got into bed. She
placed the new doll on her pillow and said good-night to the nurse.
'Good-night, Miss Bertha.'
'Don't quite shut the door, please,' said Bertha; and leaving the door a
little open as usual the nurse went downstairs, followed by Samuel. And
nobody heard anything more of Bertha until the next morning.
As soon as she awoke she turned to look at her new doll, but to her
great astonishment she could not see her. She could not see anything of
the new doll, but there lay Moggy on the pillow just as she had done for
many months past. Bertha sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, thinking she
could not be quite awake yet, but there was no mistake about it; it was
certainly Moggy on her pillow, and there was no sign of the new doll.
'Nurse!' cried Bertha, when it was time to be dressed, 'what have you
done with my new doll?'
'Why, Miss Bertha,' answered the nurse, 'you laid her on your pillow
last night.'
'But she's not there now,' said Bertha, 'and Moggy is there. I can't see
my new doll anywhere!'
The nurse stared at Moggy, and Moggy stared back with her dark eyes at
the nurse; then the nurse began to search for the lost doll, but she
could not find her anywhere. So she dressed Bertha, who went downstairs
to breakfast.
'Mother!' she exclaimed, 'where's my new doll?'
'I thought you were going to take it to bed with you last night,' said
Mrs. Western.
'So I did,' answered Bertha; 'and I left poor Moggy on the table, but
when I woke this morning the other doll was gone and Moggy was on my
pillow.'
'Nonsense,' said Mrs. Western; 'you must be making a mistake,' and
Bertha looked as if she was going to cry. 'Sit down to breakfast,' her
mother continued, 'and when we have finished we will go upstairs to look
for her.'
But although they searched all over the nursery and looked into every
corner, and although Samuel trotted about the room with his ears cocked
and his tail waggling, the new doll could not be seen.
'Nurse,' said Mrs. Western, 'what can have become of Miss Bertha's new
doll? She says she took it to bed with her last night!'
'So she did,' answered the nurse, 'because I gave the doll to Miss
Bertha after she was in bed, and Moggy was lying on the table.'
'Then who do you suppose can have taken her away?' exclaimed Mrs.
Western. Bertha seemed so disappointed that Mrs. Western took her out
that afternoon to buy another doll--not quite such a nice doll as that
which had disappeared, but a pretty doll all the same. 'This time,' said
Mrs. Western, 'I shall see it laid on your pillow myself,' and she
stayed in the nursery whilst Bertha had her bath. Then, as Samuel
frisked about the room, Bertha got into bed and Mrs. Western placed the
newest doll beside her on the pillow.
'Don't quite shut the door, please!' cried Bertha, and in two minutes
she fell fast asleep. But on waking the next morning, it seemed a very
strange thing! she found that her newest doll had disappeared whilst
Moggy lay peacefully beside her on the pillow. She dressed more quickly
than usual and ran downstairs so fast that her mother came out of the
dining-room to tell her not to tumble head-foremost to the hall.
'Mother!' cried Bertha, 'she's gone! The doll you bought me yesterday's
gone and Moggy was lying on the pillow.'
'Nonsense, Bertha,' said Mrs. Western, 'you must be making a mistake,
because I laid her on your pillow myself.'
'She wasn't there when I woke this morning,' answered Bertha.
'Well, I cannot understand it!' cried Mrs. Western.
'I can understand it very easily,' said Mr. Western; 'of course the
child is making a mistake. It must have been Moggy she took to bed.'
'I am sure it was not,' answered Mrs. Western; 'besides, what has become
of the two new dolls? How do you account for their disappearance?'
'Oh, you will find them in the nursery!' he insisted. 'But to make sure,
I will go upstairs with Bertha after breakfast and help her look.' So
they all went upstairs together this time: Mr. Western, Mrs. Western,
Bertha, and Samuel. And they examined every corner; they opened every
cupboard, Samuel sniffed about the fireplace and waggled his tail, but
still they saw nothing of either doll. 'Well,' said Mr. Western, 'I
really can't lose any more time. You have put the dolls away somewhere
and forgotten where.'
'I am positive,' said Mrs. Western, 'that the doll lay on Bertha's
pillow last night and Moggy was on this table.'
'I wish you would buy another doll this afternoon,' he replied with a
laugh, 'and to-night I will see it safely on Bertha's pillow myself.'
That day Mrs. Western bought a third doll, and when Bertha was
comfortably tucked up in bed, her father came to her room to the great
delight of Samuel. They all stood beside the bed, and having made sure
that Moggy was on the table, they saw that the new black-haired doll lay
beside Bertha.
'There will be no mistake this time,' said Mr. Western, and Samuel
waggled his tail as if he thought on the whole his master was quite
right. 'There she lies,' said Mr. Western, 'and she isn't likely to move
before breakfast-time.'
But he was quite mistaken and also very much surprised. Being dressed
early that morning, Mr. Western went to Bertha's room before she was up,
she was in fact still asleep.
'This is really very remarkable!' he exclaimed. For there, on the
pillow, lay poor Moggy, whilst he could not see the new black-haired
doll anywhere. 'I can't buy a new doll every day,' he said when they
were all downstairs. 'Besides, it seems to be of no use to buy them.' He
looked quite bothered about it; he could not enjoy his breakfast, which
was a good thing for Samuel, who had a whole sausage off his plate.
'Well,' said Mr. Western presently, 'I suppose Bertha must have another
doll; this will be the fourth in four days! But,' he added, 'I am
determined she shall not get away this time. I shall tie her to the
bed.'
And this was what he did. He went to Bertha's room after she was in bed,
and with a strong piece of string he tied the fourth fair-haired doll to
the back of the bedstead. 'There!' exclaimed Mr. Western, 'I don't think
this one will disappear.'
It did not disappear. But to his astonishment, when he came to the room
before Bertha was awake, he saw two dolls on her pillow: one being the
new, fair-haired doll, the other Moggy, whom he had left on the table in
the middle of the room.
'I can't understand it at all,' he said at breakfast-time; 'any one
would think that Moggy was alive.'
'At all events, she must be jealous,' answered Mrs. Western, while
Samuel sat on his haunches begging for bacon.
'Well,' said Mr. Western, 'we shall not have to buy another doll
to-day--that will be a change anyhow. But I am determined to find out
how it happens. To-night I shall leave the new doll untied and fasten
Moggy to the table.'
'Poor Moggy!' cried Bertha, looking quite tearful about it.
When bedtime came, Mr. Western took a piece of cord from his pocket and
tied it tightly round Moggy's waist--she had a rather large waist, Moggy
was not at all a fashionable doll--then he passed the cord under the
table and fastened it securely to the leg. Samuel agreed with Bertha; he
did not like to see his dear old friend treated in this way; he seemed
very much distressed about it, and Bertha almost thought she heard him
growl.
'There, Miss Moggy!' cried Mr. Western; 'I don't think your rest will be
disturbed to-night.' And her rest was not disturbed, for when Mr.
Western visited the nursery the next morning he found Moggy lying on the
table in the middle of the room just as he had left her. 'Ah!' he said
to himself, 'I thought so; I thought you would be safe this time!' And
he turned towards Bertha's bed.
But where was the new doll? It was certainly not on the pillow where Mr.
Western had left it last night! What could have become of it? He looked
about the room, but there was no sign of the doll anywhere.
All breakfast-time Mr. Western was silent. He said nothing about the
doll, he took no notice of Samuel, but when he rose from his chair, he
said in a low, solemn voice--
'I should like you to buy another doll to-day--it need not be an
expensive doll, because this will be the fifth doll we have bought in
six days. But,' he added, 'it shall certainly be the last.'
So that afternoon Mrs. Western took Bertha out to buy another doll. Now
she was growing used to it, Bertha rather liked the idea of having a new
doll almost every day. But this doll was not a very nice one. Its hair
was not real; it was only painted on its head. Bertha never felt quite
at home with the doll, and it did not feel soft and warm when she
pressed it against her cheek. Still her mother wished her to take it to
bed with her and to leave Moggy on the table.
'Good-night, nurse,' said Bertha; 'don't quite shut the door, please.'
She felt just a little disappointed that neither her father nor her
mother came up as they had done the last two nights, but she soon fell
asleep and forgot all about them.
Bertha had not been asleep many minutes before her door was pushed
farther open, and Mr. Western softly entered the bedroom. Crossing the
floor on tip-toes, he went to the window and loosening the wide
curtains, carefully hid himself behind them. There he stood in a very
uncomfortable position without moving for a long time. Now and then
Bertha stirred in her sleep, but neither Moggy on the table nor the
newest doll with the painted head, who lay on the pillow, moved the
hundredth part of an inch. Although the room was dim it was not quite
dark, because some light came in from the gas outside on the landing.
For a long time Mr. Western stood behind the window-curtain, and
presently--it must have been about a quarter to ten--he heard a soft
pattering on the floor. Peeping out cautiously from behind the curtain,
he saw first the tip of Samuel's nose, then his whole head, and at last
his body. And now Mr. Western knew how the dolls had disappeared. He
knew that Samuel was the culprit, and he smiled as he waited, expecting
to see the terrier jump on the chair which stood beside the table and
seize Moggy's skirt between his teeth. But before Samuel reached the
chair he suddenly stopped and began to sniff. Then putting his nose
close to the floor he slowly drew near to the window. After sniffing at
this for some moments he seemed quickly to change his mind, and turning
round he ran out of the room.
Mr. Western at once followed him. On reaching the drawing-room door,
Samuel wanted to enter, but Mr. Western said--
'Samuel, come along!' and with his short tail close to his body and his
head held very near the ground Samuel followed his master downstairs. At
each step the dog looked more guilty, and when Mr. Western stopped
outside the kitchen door, Samuel lay flat on the ground and turned over
on his back, looking out of the corners of his eyes all the time. But
when Mr. Western put his right hand into the kennel which Samuel never
slept in, the dog became so excited again that he sprang to his feet and
began to frisk about as if he had done something very clever indeed.
Mr. Western put his hand into the old kennel, and you can guess what he
drew out. He drew out the black-haired doll, and with this in his hand
he looked down and shook his head at Samuel. Then Samuel turned over on
to his back again just as he did when he pretended to be dead. One after
the other Mr. Western drew out of the kennel five new dolls, and as he
stood holding them in his arms Samuel got upon his legs again and began
to howl dismally.
'Come upstairs to your mistress, sir,' said Mr. Western, and Samuel
followed him upstairs. But when she saw Mr. Western enter the
drawing-room with the five dolls in his arms Mrs. Western laughed, and
he threw them all into an arm-chair by the fireplace.
'The fact is,' said Mrs. Western, 'Samuel is a great friend of Moggy's,
and I suppose he did not like to see another doll put into her place,'
and Samuel waggled his tail just as if he understood all she said and
quite approved of it. 'So,' she continued, 'he must have gone to the
nursery after Bertha was asleep and moved Moggy from the table and put
her on the pillow. Then he must have dragged the new doll downstairs.
Very naughty of you, Samuel,' said Mrs. Western, shaking her finger.
Samuel crept along the carpet to her shoes and began to lick them.
'Up!' she cried, and as quickly as possible Samuel was in her lap, being
kissed and patted and made completely happy. 'What a fine story we shall
have to tell Bertha to-morrow!' said Mrs. Western, 'and I really think
she will have to take Moggy back to sleep with her.'
VIII
MARY SEES SOMETHING WHICH SHE HAS NEVER SEEN BEFORE
Evangeline finished her story just as the train stopped at a small
country station, where a porter opened the door and they all got out.
The station looked like a summer-house, and when Mary went outside into
the road, she clapped her hands with delight.
There was quite a small crowd of people waiting there, but what pleased
Mary the most was a little brown carriage with four cream-coloured
ponies. Beside the ponies stood two boys with bright buttons on their
coats, whilst three rough, brown dogs jumped up at Evangeline as if they
wanted to lick her face. Evangeline drove the ponies, and Mary sat
wedged in between her and Sister Agatha. The two boys with bright
buttons on their coats climbed into a seat behind; Evangeline flourished
the whip, the sun shone, and the dogs ran barking beside the carriage.
'Where are the streets?' asked Mary a few minutes later. 'Oh!' she
exclaimed, 'look at the stars on the ground!'
'Stars!' said Sister Agatha.
'Aren't they stars?' asked Mary.
'Why, of course not----'
'Then I know what they are,' said Mary; 'they're the magic counters you
give to people when you want them to do things.'
'I'm afraid those don't grow by the roadside,' answered Evangeline;
'these are primroses, Mary.'
'What are primroses?' asked Mary with wondering eyes.
'You see,' said Evangeline, 'every winter the earth grows hard and cold;
but when it feels the sun shine on it again it smiles, and to show you
how glad it is, it puts forth all these bright little flowers.'
'I see,' answered Mary, still looking as if she did not understand at
all.
'Perhaps you would like to pick some,' said Evangeline. She stopped the
ponies, and at the same moment the two boys sprang to the ground and
stood very stiffly at their heads. Sister Agatha and Mary got out of the
carriage and, stooping by the roadside, plucked primrose after primrose,
whilst the three dogs sniffed about as if they wanted to make a meal off
the sweet, yellow flowers.
Then they got into the carriage again, and Evangeline flourished her
whip. The boys climbed up into the back seat, and Mary felt she should
not mind being driven along that sunny road for ever, or at least until
tea-time. She had never smelled the air so sweet nor seen the sky so
blue.
Presently they reached some shops and small houses, and the people came
out to stand at the doors and bow to Evangeline as she passed.
'Why do they do that?' asked Mary.
'If you saw a fairy-queen driving four cream-coloured ponies past your
house, don't you think you would bow to show how pleased you felt?' said
Sister Agatha.