It took them an hour to tell each other where they had been and what
they did there, and where they were going and what they expected to
do, and you may well believe Maida was glad to see all of them again.
Especially Billy, for Billy was the very nicest boy. Maida was not
very fond of the boys at home. They were always throwing snowballs,
or fighting, or pulling the cat’s tail, or tying tin cans to the poor
dogs. Billy wasn’t a bit like that. The Man with the Growly Voice had
been delayed because he didn’t know the Arctic Circle was an imaginary
line so he had to get a ladder and climb over it, but he had managed
to preserve his can of climate through all his travels and Maida was
delighted to learn she would have his company the rest of the journey.
As for Santa Claus, he was anxious to reclaim Jack-in-the-Box and the
Candy Kid, but they flatly refused to go home until they had finished
the trip with Maida; so Santa decided to take Billy and go too, which
was very nice of him.
“Do you know,” said Jack-in-the-Box, as they all sat about the hotel
office planning the journey, “there is something wrong with my knee.”
“Rheumatism,” said Maida wisely.
“Nonsense,” replied Jack, “how can one have rheumatism in a
ball-bearing? It’s a hot box.”
“What is a hot box?” inquired the Candy Kid, “I never had one.” “Of
course not,” Jack answered, “if you had one you’d melt.”
“I know what a hot box is,” said Maida. “I was on a train once and it
stopped so we all got out to see what was the matter, and we found one
of the axles had got dry and set fire to things, and it was smoking
dreadfully.”
“You’d better go to a doctor,” said Billy solicitously.
“Doctor,” snapped Jack, “what good could _he_ do?” “You’d better send
for a plumber,” advised the Candy Kid.
“No, a plumber won’t do,” said Jack reflectively, “he would only say,
‘I’ll be around to-morrow with a piece of wire,’ and then put in a bill
for more than I’m worth. I am not sure when I’m to be repaired, whether
I go to the jeweler, or the blacksmith.”
Santa Claus put an end to the discussion, by thinking a new knee for
Jack, and as soon as he thought it, why there it was and Jack was as
spry as ever.
Maida wandered about the hotel marvelling at the wonder and beauty of
it. All the bell-boys were Albatrosses and they dusted the chairs with
their wings, and carried satchels in their bills. The elevator boy was
a dear little White Fox, and he invited Maida to take a ride with him.
So she did, and got off at the thirty-ninth story.
“I would take you higher,” barked the Fox, “but the sun is very hot
to-day, and the fortieth-story has just melted.”
So she stepped out of the elevator and walked about till she came to a
lovely big room, with frost letters on the door, which read, “Ladies’
Reception Room.” It was the most gorgeous room she had ever seen. The
pillars were made of solid green ice, the roof was all icicles and
stalactites, and the walls were covered with lovely frost pictures,
just the kind you see on the window on a cold day--and they changed
every now and then. While Maida was admiring the room she became aware
that someone was standing at a window gazing out over the city, and
looking closer she found it was the most beautiful lady she had ever
seen. Her face and hands were snow white, her long robe was white and
frosty. She wore a star on her forehead and her face was very sad. For
some reason Maida felt very sorry for this lady, so she went to her
and touched her on the arms. Did you ever put your hand on an awfully,
_awfully_ cold piece of ice on a winter’s day? Remember how it was
so cold it almost _burned_? Well, that’s the way Maida felt when she
touched the lady.
“My! but you’re cold!” said Maida, “I think you’ve got a chill.”
The lady smiled sadly, and looked at her, so Maida smiled back, but she
kept at a little distance.
“Who are you?” asked Maida, “and why do you smile so sadly? And why are
you so cold?”
“I am Stalacta, an ice maiden, one of the Vestals of the Queen Aurora
Borealis.” She sighed, and everything the lady said sounded exactly
like the most beautiful poetry. “And with my companions I had sworn
never to leave the Queen, but to serve her always. But one night I
had a dream--ah, a most glorious vision. I seemed to float away on
the bosom of a cloud, to a far land where all was light and warm and
beautiful--and there I saw one whom I can never forget--nay, I would
not forget him if I could. He was tall and straight and strong, his
face was kind and his eyes were true; and as he looked at me my heart
seemed to burst its icy bands, and I knew that I could never serve the
Queen again, but could only be happy--with him. I beckoned, he drew
near. I held out my arms, and then--I awoke. Night after night I dream
of him--night after night I see him holding out his arms; he is drawing
nearer, always nearer, and I will never rest till he finds me.”
“Ah, ah, ah, come with me quick!” cried Maida. So she put on her
mittens and took the Ice Lady by the hand, rushed her down the
elevator, and hurried her across the hotel office to where the
Disconsolate Lover was still standing, looking out the window.
“Here he is,” she cried to the Ice Lady; then to the Disconsolate
Lover, “Here is your dream--the White Lady.”
The Disconsolate Lover turned, and he and the White Lady stared a
moment at each other. Then _what_ did _he_ do, right before everybody
in the hotel office, but take the White Lady in his arms. But not
for long; you see he didn’t realize how awfully cold the White Lady
was, while _she_ didn’t realize how very warm _he_ was, being from
the South. So if he hadn’t let her go--she’d have melted. And the two
poor creatures who thought so much of each other were kept apart. The
Disconsolate Lover couldn’t kiss the White Lady’s hand.
“Oh, what shall we do?” sighed the White Lady. “I think so much of
you--I _do_ indeed; but you are fatal to me. If you come any nearer I’m
sure I shall melt.”
“You freeze me through and through,” he answered; “but I don’t care for
that--for you really are the most beautiful lady in the world.”
Then Maida had an inspiration, and she jumped up and down, clapping
her hands with joy, for she had found a way to get them out of their
troubles. “Come with us to the Wishing Post,” she cried, “and you can
wish, each to be like the other.”
Everybody clapped their hands at this, and said it was a fine idea, so
the Disconsolate Lover and the White Lady agreed to go along with them.