as the Fozzy-gog, and a moment after he was standing in his ordinary
shape in the centre of the cobblestone pathway.
The moonlight shone upon his quaint little figure and the golden
padlock at his neck. 'Zekiel sprang up just as the cottage door
opened, and a neighbour came out calling, "'Zekiel! 'Zekiel! Drat the
lad! Where be you gone to?"
'Zekiel tucked the china dog under his arm and hurried in, receiving a
good scolding from Granny Pyetangle and her friend for "loitering,"
but he felt so light-hearted and cheerful, the hard words fell round
him quite harmlessly.
"Granny 'll be well to-morrow! Granny 'll be well to-morrow!" he kept
repeating to himself over and over again, and he ran into the kitchen
just before going to bed to make sure the things in the corner
cupboard were safely shut away for the night.
'Zekiel hardly knew how he got through the next day, so impatient was
he for the evening. Granny Pyetangle was certainly worse. The
neighbours came in and shook their heads sadly over her, and Dame
Fossie hobbled up from her shop and offered to spend the night there,
as it was "no' fit for young lads to have such responsibilities"--and
this offer 'Zekiel eagerly accepted.
As soon as it grew dusk, he unlatched the door of the oak cupboard;
and then being very tired--for he had worked hard since daylight--he
sat down in Granny Pyetangle's large chair, and in a minute was fast
asleep.
He was awakened by a series of pulls at his smock-frock; and starting
up he saw that it was quite dark, except for the glow of a few ashes
on the hearth-stone, and that the china dog, grown to the same size as
he had been the evening before, was trying to arouse him.
"Wake up, 'Zekiel!" he said in a low voice. "Dame Fossie is upstairs
with your Granny, and we must be off."
'Zekiel rubbed his eyes, and taking his cap down from a peg, and tying
a check comforter round his neck, he followed the china dog from the
kitchen, and closed and latched the door behind him.
Out in the moonlit street, the china dog kept as much as possible in
the shadow of the houses; 'Zekiel following, his hob-nailed boots
_click_, _clicking_ against the rough stones as he stumbled sleepily
along.
They soon left the village behind them, and plunged into a wood,
which, stretching for miles across hill and dale, was known to be a
favourite haunt of smugglers.
'Zekiel instantly became very wide awake indeed, and unpleasant cold
shivers ran down his back, as he thought he saw black and white forms
gliding amongst the trees, and yellow eyes glancing at him between
the bare branches.
"It isn't smugglers. It's the dogs galloping to the meeting place,"
said the china dog, who seemed able to read 'Zekiel's thoughts in a
very unnatural manner.
They soon left the rough pathway they had been following, and 'Zekiel,
clinging to the china dog's paw, found himself in the densest part of
the wood, which was only dimly lighted by a few scattered moonbeams.
"We are getting near the Dog-wood now," said the china dog as they
hurried on, and in another moment they came out on to the middle of a
clearing, round which a dense thicket of red-stemmed dog-wood bushes
grew in the greatest luxuriance.
In the centre was a large square stone, like a stand; on which sat the
Fozzy-gog, surrounded by about fifty china dogs of all shapes and
sizes, but each one with a gold padlock and chain round his neck,
without which none were admitted to the secret society of the
"Fozzy-gogs."
'Zekiel was drawn reluctantly into the magic circle, while every dog
wagged his tail as a sign of friendly greeting.
The Fozzy-gog nodded graciously, and immediately the dogs commenced a
wild dance, with many leaps and bounds; round the stone on which their
ruler was seated.
The moonlight shone brightly on their glancing white coats; and behind
rustled the great oak trees, their boughs twisted into fantastic
forms, amidst which the wind whistled eerily.
'Zekiel shuddered as he looked at the strange scene, and longed
sincerely to be back again in his little bed at Granny Pyetangle's.
"However, it won't do to show I'm afraid, or don't like it," he said
to himself, so he capered and hopped with the others until he was
quite giddy and exhausted, and forced to sit down on a grassy bank to
recover himself.
"The trees are playing very well to-night," said a dog as he skipped
by. "Come and have another dance?" and he flew round and round like a
humming top.
'Zekiel shook his head several times. He was so out of breath he could
only gasp hurriedly--"No, no! No more, thank you!" but his friend had
already disappeared.
The Fozzy-gog now approached him. He carried something in his paw,
which he placed in 'Zekiel's hand.
"Put this on Grandmother Pyetangle's forehead when you return
to-night--promise that you will keep silence for ever about what you
have seen--and to-morrow she will be well!"
"I promise," said 'Zekiel. "Oh, Fozzy-gog! I'll never forget it!"
"No thanks," said the Fozzy-gog. "I like deeds more than words.
Pyetangle shall take you home."
He beckoned to 'Zekiel's dog, who came up rather sulkily--and 'Zekiel
found himself outside the magic circle, and well on his way home,
almost before he could realize that they had started!
As he entered Granny Pyetangle's little garden, he saw that a light
was still burning in her attic.
He went softly into the kitchen. It was quite dark, but a ray of
moonlight enabled him to see the china dog open the cupboard; and,
rapidly shrinking, place himself on his proper shelf again.
'Zekiel then took off his boots, ran up the creaking stairs, and
tapped softly at Granny Pyetangle's bedroom. No one answered, so he
pushed open the door.
Dame Fossie sat sleeping peacefully in a large rush-bottomed chair by
the fireplace--and Granny Pyetangle, on her bed under the chintz
curtains, was sleeping too.
'Zekiel laid the Fozzy-gog's leaf carefully on her forehead, and
creeping from the room, threw himself on his own little bed, and was
soon as fast asleep as the two old women.
The next morning, when Granny Pyetangle awoke, she said she felt
considerably better, and so energetic was she that Dame Fossie had
great difficulty in persuading her not to get up.
Dame Fossie tidied up the place, and was much annoyed to find a dead
leaf sticking to Granny Pyetangle's scanty grey hair. "How a rubbishy
leaf o' dog-wood came to get there, is more nor _I_ can account for,"
she said crossly, as she swept it away into the fire, before 'Zekiel
could interfere to rescue it.
Granny Pyetangle's recovery was wonderfully rapid. Every day she was
able to do a little more, and 'Zekiel's triumph was complete when he
was allowed to help her down the stairs into the kitchen, and seat her
quavering, but happy, on the great chair in the chimney corner.
"Well, it do seem pleasant to be about agin," said Granny Pyetangle,
smoothing her white linen apron. "No'but you have kept the place
clean, 'Zekiel, like a good lad. There's those things in corner
cupboard as bright as chaney can be! and that chaney dog o' yours
sitting as life-like as you please! It wouldn't want much fancy to say
he was wagging his tail and looking at me quite welcoming!"
The wood fire blazed and crackled, the kettle sang on its chain in the
wide chimney. Granny Pyetangle was almost well, and quite happy; and
'Zekiel felt his heart overflowing with gratitude towards the
Fozzy-gog.
"I'll never forget him. Never!" said 'Zekiel to himself, "and I
wouldn't tell upon him not if anyone was to worrit me ever so!"--and
indeed he never did.
Years passed, and Dame Fossie's shop was shut, and Dame Fossie herself
was laid to rest. Her daughter inherited most of her possessions;
but--"to my young friend 'Zekiel Pyetangle, I will and bequeath my
china dog, hoping as he'll be a kind friend to it," stood at the end
of the sheet of paper which did duty as her will. And so 'Zekiel
became the owner of the Fozzy-gog after all!
Granny Pyetangle has long since passed away, but the little thatched
cottage is still there, with the garden full of lavender bushes and
sweet-smelling flowers. From the glass door of the corner cupboard
the Fozzy-gog and his companion look out upon the world with the same
inscrutable expression; and 'Zekiel himself, old and decrepit, but
still cheerful, may at this moment be sitting in the cottage porch,
watching his little grandchildren play about the cobblestone pathway,
or talking over old times with Eli and Hercules Colfox, who, hobbling
in for a chat, take a pull at their long pipes, and bemoan the
inferiority of everything that does not belong to the time when "us
were all lads together."
PRINCESS SIDIGUNDA'S GOLDEN SHOES.
Princess Sidigunda lived with her parents in a beautiful old castle by
the sea. It was so near that the royal gardens sloped down gradually
to the shore, and from its battlements--where the little Princess was
allowed to walk sometimes on half-holidays--she could watch the ships
with their gaily-painted prows and golden dragons' heads, sweeping
over the water in quest of new lands and fresh adventures.
Princess Sidigunda was an only child, and at her christening every
gift you can imagine had been showered upon her.
The Trolls of the Woods gave her beauty; the Trolls of the Water, a
free, bright spirit; the Mountain-Trolls, good health; and last, but
not least, her chief Godfather, the Troll of the Seashore, had given
her a beautiful little pair of golden slippers.
"Never let the child take them off her feet," said the old Troll. "As
long as she keeps them she will be happy. If ever they are lost the
Princess's troubles will begin."
"But they will grow too small for her!" said the Queen anxiously.
"Oh no, they won't!" said the old Troll. "They will grow as she grows,
so you needn't trouble about that."
[Illustration]
Time went on, and the little Princess grew to be ten years old.
The old Troll's promise was fulfilled, and her life had been a
perfectly happy one. Watched by her faithful nurse, she had never had
any opportunity of losing her magic shoes; and though she often
bathed and played about the shore with her young companions, she was
never allowed to be without one of her attendants, in case she should
forget her Godfather's caution.
One fine summer afternoon, the Princess, with some of her friends, ran
down to the sands from the little gate in the castle wall.
The sea looked green and beautiful, light waves curling over on the
narrow strip of yellow shore.
"Let's wade!" cried the Princess. "My nurse is ill in bed, and my two
ladies think we are playing in the garden. We'll have a little treat
of being alone, and enjoy ourselves!"
"We must take our slippers off," said one of the children, as they
raced along.
"Oh, I wish _I_ could!" cried the Princess. "I don't believe _once_
would matter. I'll put them in a safe place where the sea can't get at
them," and as she spoke she pulled off her golden shoes, and hid them
in a great hurry behind a sand-bank.
The Princess's little friends ran off laughing; while she followed,
her hair streaming, her bare feet twinkling in the sunlight.
"How nice it is to be free, without those tiresome shoes!" cried the
Princess.
The children paddled in the water until they were tired, and then
Sidigunda thought it was time to put on her slippers again. She ran to
the bank, but gave a cry of astonishment--she could only find one of
her golden shoes! Tears sprang to her eyes as she looked about her
wildly.
"Oh what shall I do?" she cried. "My shoe! My Godfather's shoe!"
The children gathered round her eagerly.
"It must be there. Who can have taken it?"
They searched the low sand dunes up and down, but not a trace of the
lost slipper could be found. It was gone as entirely as if it had
never existed; and as the Princess drew on the remaining one, the
tears rolled down her face, and fell upon the sand-hill by which she
was sitting.
"Oh, Godfather! dear Godfather! come and help me!" she wailed. "Do
come and help me!"
At her cry, the sand-hill began to quiver and shake strangely. It
heaved up, and an old man's head, with a long grey beard, appeared in
the middle; followed slowly by a little brown-coated body.
"What is the matter, God-daughter? Your tears trickled down to me and
woke me up, just as I was comfortably sleeping," he said querulously.
"They're saltier than the sea, and I can't stand them."
"My shoe's gone! Oh! whatever am I to do? I'm _so_ sorry, Godfather!"
"So you ought to be!" said the old man sharply. "I told you something
bad would happen if you ever took them off. The question is now,
Where's the shoe gone to?"
He leant his elbows on the mound, and looked out to sea.
"Just what I thought!" he exclaimed. "The Sea-children have taken it
for a boat. I _must_ speak to the Sea-grandmother about them, and get
her to keep them in better order."
"Oh, it's gone then, and I shall never get it back again!" wept the
Princess. "What am I to do, Godfather?"
[Illustration]
"Have you courage enough to go and find your shoe by yourself?"
"If that's the only way to get it back," said the Princess bravely.
"Well, then, you must start immediately, or the Sea-children will
have hidden it away somewhere. You will be obliged to have a passport,
but I'll tell you how to get that. Take this veil"--and he drew a
thin, transparent piece of silvery gauze from his pocket--"and throw
it over your head whenever you go under the water. With it you will be
able to breathe and see, as well as if you were on dry land. From this
flask"--and he handed Sidigunda a curious little gold bottle--"you
must pour a few drops on to your remaining shoe, and whenever you do
so it will change in a moment into a boat, a horse, or a fish, as you
desire it."
"How am I to start, and where am I to go to?" asked the Princess,
trying not to feel frightened at the prospect before her.
"Launch your shoe as a boat, and float on till you meet the Sea-Troll,
who is an old friend of mine. Explain your errand to him, and say I
begged him to direct you and give you a passport. And now one last
word before I leave you. Never, _whatever_ happens, cry again; for
there is nothing worries me so much, and I want to finish my sleep
comfortably."
With these words the old Troll collected his long grey beard which had
strayed over the sand-hill; and folding it round him, he disappeared
in the hole again.
Princess Sidigunda did not give herself time to think. She ran down to
the edge of the water, took off her golden shoe, and poured some of
the contents of her Godfather's flask over it.
It changed immediately into a boat, into which the Princess stepped
tremblingly; and it floated away over the blue water until the little
Princess, straining her eyes eagerly, lost sight of her home, and the
land faded away into a mere streak upon the horizon.
"I wonder when I shall meet the Sea-Troll and what he's like," thought
Princess Sidigunda. "I suppose I shall be able to recognize him
somehow."
As she thought this, she noticed that some object was rapidly floating
towards her. It did not look like a boat, and as it came nearer and
nearer, she could see that it was a large shell, on which an old man
with a long beard was seated cross-legged, surrounded by a crowd of
laughing Sea-children. They clung to the sides of the shell, swum
round it, or climbed up to rest themselves on its crinkled edges.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" cried the old man in a
gruff voice.
The Princess trembled; but she seized her veil and the little flask,
and holding them out she repeated her Godfather's message.
"I'll see what I can do, though really these children wear me out!"
said the Sea-Troll. "I can't keep my eye on all of them at once! You
had better go down to the Sea-city, and ask if they've carried your
shoe there. If not, the Troll-writers will tell you where it is. Show
this to the city guard, and they will direct you to the Palace." He
gave the Princess a flat shell on which some letters were engraved.
"Sink down at once," he continued; "you are over the city now," and
with a wave of his hand he sailed away with the children, and was soon
out of sight.
"I suppose there's nothing else to be done," sighed Sidigunda, and
throwing the scarf over her head, she poured a few drops from the
bottle upon her shoe.
"Turn into a fish and carry me down to the Sea-city!" she said.
In a moment she felt herself sinking through the clear water, deeper
and deeper, with a delicious drowsy feeling that almost soothed her to
sleep. She knew she was _not_ asleep though, for she could see the
misty forms of sea creatures, darting about in the dim shadows, and
great waving sea-weeds--crimson, yellow, and brown--floating up from
the rippled sand beneath.
And now the shoe swum straight on, darting through the water like an
eel; until a large town came in sight, with high walls and Palaces,
and shining domes covered with mother-o'-pearl.
They stopped at a great gate, before which a fish dressed as a sentry
was standing.
As soon as he saw the little Princess, he drew his sword, and came
gliding towards her.
"Your name and business!" he enquired, in a high thin voice.
"I am Princess Sidigunda, seeking my golden shoe, and I bring this
from the Sea-Troll," said the Princess courageously. "Will you tell
me where I am to find the Trolls of the Palace?"
The fish handed the shell back sulkily, and pointed up the street.
"Go straight through till you come to the marble building with the
pearls over the door," he said; and gave the Princess a poke with the
handle of his sword, that pushed her through the gate, almost before
she had time to draw on her golden shoe again.
"What a rude, ill-bred sentry!" said Sidigunda. "My father would be
very angry if any of _our_ soldiers behaved so; but then, of course,
this one is only a fish. What a strange country I seem to have got
into!"
She walked along the street, looking on each side of her curiously.
Many of the houses had transparent domes, like beautiful soap bubbles;
some were built of coloured pebbles, and pink and red coral, with
branching trees of green and brown seaweed growing up, beside and over
them.
Everything was strange, and unlike the earth; but what struck the
Princess most was that no inhabitants were to be seen anywhere. A few
fish swam about lazily, otherwise an unbroken silence reigned in the
Sea-city.
Far away, at the end of the wide sanded road, a great marble palace
towered over the surrounding houses; and as the Princess neared it she
saw that the doors were wide open. She walked in fearlessly, and found
herself in a large hall, with walls entirely covered with
cockle-shells. Long stone tables filled the middle of the room; at
which a crowd of small brown-coated men were seated, scribbling away
with long pens, but in total silence.
The great grey beards of some of the writers had touched the ground,
and even twisted themselves round the legs of the benches on which the
old men were sitting.
Princess Sidigunda stood for a minute looking on, curiously. She then
went up to one of the Trolls and pulled him gently by the sleeve.
He did not look up, but his pen slightly slackened its speed.
"What do you want?" he enquired in an uninterested voice. "Make haste,
for I have no time to spare!"
"What rude people they all are!" thought the Princess. "The Sea-Troll
said you would tell me how to find my golden shoe," she continued
aloud.
"I wish the Sea-Troll would mind his own business!" said the little
brown man vindictively. "He's always distracting us from our State
business with all sorts of messages."
"Are you working for the State?" enquired Sidigunda.
"Of course! I thought every oyster knew that," replied the brown
Troll.
"Are they particularly uneducated, then?" asked the Princess.
"Why they're _babies_!" said the brown Troll. "You can see them any
day in their beds by the side of the road, if you have eyes in your
head."
"What a place to keep babies in!" thought the Princess, but she said
nothing, for she saw that the old Troll's disposition was very
irritable.
"Would you tell me one thing," she began. "I do so much want to know
why I saw no one in the streets as I came along. Where have all the
people gone to?"
"Well, of _all_ the idi----" commenced the brown Troll, then checked
himself with an effort. "Of course you can't know how foolish your
questions sound," he said. "When you're two or three hundred years old
I daresay you'll be more sensible. Why all the people are asleep--you
don't suppose it's the same as in _your_ country!"
"Do they sleep all the time?" asked the Princess.
"Not all the time, of course. In this town it's two weeks at a
stretch. In other places more, or less. By this arrangement we always
have half the population asleep, and half awake--much pleasanter and
less crowding. I can't think why it's not done in other places!"
Princess Sidigunda looked surprised.
"Will the children who took my shoe be asleep?" she enquired
anxiously.
"Not they!" said the brown Troll crossly, "I wish they would be!
Children under twelve _never_ sleep. It's like having a crowd of live
eels always round me! I'd put them to sleep when they were a month
old, and not let them wake till they came of age, if I had _my_ way!"
The Princess felt rather frightened of this savage little brown man.
She was afraid to ask any more questions, though she longed to know
why he and his companions were not asleep too.
"Go straight down the street," commenced the old Troll abruptly, "out
of the green gate, along the road to the open country. Turn your shoe
into a horse, and don't stop till you reach the Crab-boy's hut. He
will direct you."
"That sounds simple enough," thought the Princess, "but I wish he
would tell me a little more!"
The brown Troll, however, refused to open his mouth again, and
Princess Sidigunda was obliged to start off upon her wanderings, with
no more guide than the few words he had chosen to speak to her.
She ran down the silent street, and out at the green gate; the
Fish-sentry allowing her to pass without objection. As soon as she
reached the country road, she walked more slowly. She particularly
wanted to see the beds with the Sea-babies, which the old Troll had
spoken about.
For some distance she noticed nothing except wide sandy plains dotted
with rocks, shells, and waving forests of giant seaweed--huge fish
darting about in all directions--but at last the scenery grew wilder;
and close to the road side she came upon a grove of oysters, each
half-open shell containing a Sea-child, whose head and arms appeared
above the edges of the shell, while its feet and body were invisible.
Beside them sat an old woman, grey and wrinkled; with a small switch
in her hand, with which she occasionally touched the Sea-babies as
they leaned too far from their shells, or as their laughter rose too
noisily.
The little Princess stopped and looked at the children curiously; and
the old woman stepped forward and made a polite curtsey.
"They are rather noisy to-day," she said deprecatingly. "The
oyster-nurses have gone out for a holiday, and I have to keep the
whole bed in order!"
"I should like to wait and play with them," said the Princess, "but I
really am in such a hurry--I've lost my golden shoe."
"Oh, you're going to the Crab-boy, I suppose?" said the old woman.
"Down the road as straight as you can go, and you'll come to his hut,"
and she turned away to the children again.
Sidigunda took off her slipper, and poured out some drops from her
magic bottle.
Immediately it grew larger and larger; and she had just time to spring
in, before it galloped away with a series of bounds that made it very
difficult to cling on.
Faster and faster it went, until the country seemed only a flying
haze; and just as the Princess began to feel she could endure no more,
it stopped abruptly before a small hut.
Outside the door a boy sat on a stone seat, playing on a long horn
whose notes echoed among the rocky hills that surrounded him.
Princess Sidigunda looked at the boy with a friendly smile. He stopped
playing, and made room for her to sit down beside him.
"I knew you were coming," he said. "You want to go to the
Sea-grandmother, don't you?"
"Yes, I do!" said the Princess. "Do you live here all alone?"
"Why, of course," replied the Crab-herd, "I look after all the crabs
of the district. You may see me collect them if you like, for if I'm
to go with you now, I must shut them up safely before starting."
As he said this, he rose, and blowing a few notes on his horn, he
walked slowly along, followed by the Princess.
As the horn sounded, crabs of every size and colour came darting out
from the stones, and scuttled across the sand towards the Crab-boy.
There were red and green, yellow and brown, large and small--a
procession growing larger and larger, until it reached an enclosed
space, into which the boy guided it, and then shut the gate securely.
The Princess had dropped down to rest upon a conch-shell, in the shade
of some purple seaweed, and she looked up at the Crab-herd with her
large blue eyes, while he counted his crabs, and chased in one or two
of the stragglers.
"Is the Sea-grandmother's house far off?" she asked thoughtfully.
"Up in the great mountains, no distance from here. She lives in a
cave, with plenty of space for her knitting."
"Does she knit _much_?" enquired Sidigunda.
"Yes; she knits and spins too. She never leaves off; and never has for
hundreds and thousands of years."
"What a very old lady she must be! Old enough to be a
great-great-great-grandmother!" cried the Princess in astonishment.
"If you said three hundred '_greats_' you would be nearer the real
thing," remarked the Crab-boy. "But come now, follow me, and we will
start immediately."
Princess Sidigunda got up, and taking the Crab-herd's hand, they set
off down the road towards the mountains.
As they reached the foot of the grey cliffs, the Crab-boy unfolded a
pair of fin-like wings from his elbows, and began to swim
upwards--leaving the little Princess with her arms stretched out
imploringly towards him.
"Oh, _don't_ leave me here by myself!" she cried. "I shall never find
my way to the Sea-grandmother!"
"Why there she is, just above us in that cave in the side of the
mountain," said the Crab-boy. "Don't you see her beautiful white hair,
and the flash of her knitting-needles?"
The Princess looked up, and there sat a beautiful old lady in a hole
in the rock, high, high above them. A crowd of Sea-children played
about her, and seemed to be carrying away the cloud-like white
knitting as fast as it flowed from her busy fingers.
She bent her head towards Sidigunda, and nodded to her, without
ceasing her work for a moment.
"Come, Princess, and talk to me!" she called in a sweet, low voice.
"Take your shoe off, and it will bring you here in a moment."
Sidigunda did as she was told--for the old lady spoke as if she were
used to being obeyed without question--and found herself floating
upwards, until she alighted on a broad ledge right in front of the
Sea-grandmother.
"So you have come all this way to find your golden shoe?" the old lady
said in her clear, even voice. "Sit down, and tell me all about it."
The Princess thought the Sea-grandmother's face young and lovely. It
was smooth and unwrinkled; eyes clear as crystal, with blue depths in
them, shining out with a soft benign look; while her slim hands turned
and twisted unceasingly, and her long green dress fell round her in
wave-like folds.
Her smile was so soft and kind, that the Princess felt as if she had
known her all her life.
"I have sent for your shoe, my child," she said. "Those tiresome
grandchildren of mine give me a great deal of trouble. I can't keep my
eyes on all of them at once, and so they are always in mischief!"
Sidigunda looked up in the gentle face; and sat down confidingly
beside the Sea-grandmother.
"Do you always knit so busily, Grandmother?" she said, as she watched
the white foamy fabric float off the needles.
"Of course, child. I have been working like this for thousands and
thousands of years. Who do you imagine would provide the waves with
nightcaps if _I_ ever stopped? When the wind blows and they dance, or
when they curl over on the shore, they would be cold indeed, without
my comfortable white nightcaps!"
"Can you get me my shoe, dear Grandmother?" asked the little Princess
wistfully.
"Certainly, dear child. Though if you had not come at once, you might
have had to wait a few hundred years or so, before I could have found
it for you. The children wander so far now-a-days! Have you seen it?"
the Sea-grandmother continued, turning to some of the children who
surrounded her.
"Oh, yes," they answered in chorus. "Just now it floated above us. We
can fetch it in a minute!"
"Swim away then, as fast as you can!" cried the Sea-grandmother, and
the children darted off like fish through the green clearness of the
water.
The sound of their laughter had hardly died away in the distance,
before they reappeared, dragging the golden shoe behind them; and the
Princess, with smiles of joy, embraced them all as she drew it on to
her foot again.
"Oh, thank you, dearest Grandmother! I don't know how I can show you
how grateful I am," cried Sidigunda.
"By going home at once to your father and mother, and by promising me
_never_ again to be disobedient," said the Sea-grandmother gravely.
"Give me your shoe, and I will order it to take you back to the
Castle."
She stopped her needles for a moment, and passed her hand over the
slipper: then kissed the little Princess, and waved the knitting
rapidly before her.
A white cloud seemed to float over Sidigunda, and she felt herself
lifted up with a soothing motion, until on opening her eyes she found
she was once more in the region of the fresh air and sunshine. Looking
round, she saw the ruffled surface of the sea, and the waves breaking
upon the shore before the Castle.
Her heart beat with happiness, as the golden shoe landed her safely on
the beach; and she ran up through the little gate into the Castle
gardens, right into the arms of her mother, who was pacing up and down
with her attendants, in great anxiety.
Under the shade of some spreading fir trees the Princess related her
adventures, begging the King and Queen to forgive her for her
disobedience; and the whole Court was so delighted at her return that
everyone forgot to scold her.
That evening bonfires were lighted on all the hill-tops; and a great
banquet was held in the Castle, at which the Princess appeared amidst
loud cheering, and, holding her father's hand, drank from a golden
goblet to the health of her Godfather, the Shore-Troll, and the
Sea-grandmother.
THE BADGER'S SCHOOL,
OR
THE ADVENTURES OF A BEAR FAMILY.
CHAPTER I.
In the very heart of a great forest in Sweden lived a Bear family,
called "Bjornson."
They were much respected throughout the whole neighbourhood, for they
were kind and hospitable to everyone; and as their home was in such an
unfrequented part of the country they were able often to give
entertainments which it was quite safe to attend without fear of
Foresters or other human inconveniences.
Their house was built of large stones, neatly roofed with pine
branches, and was reached by a winding path through the rocks, the
entrance to which had become covered by a dense thicket of bushes. A
small wire had been cunningly arranged by the Bear-father, so that in
the event of any stranger entering the door a bell would be rung in
the Bear-kitchen; but so far the household had fortunately never been
alarmed by this contrivance.
The two Bjornson children, Knut and Otto, led a very happy life in the
forest. Whenever they liked they could bring some of their young
companions home from the School-house in the evening; and then the
Bear-mother would seat herself on a tree-stump and play tunes for them
to dance to--for Fru Bjornson was highly educated, and had learnt the
concertina in all its branches.
[Illustration: "THE BEAR-MOTHER HAD LEARNT THE CONCERTINA IN ALL ITS
BRANCHES"]
This of course was all very delightful: but every morning Knut and
Otto were obliged to start off at daybreak with their books and
satchels for the forest School, and there a time of trouble usually
awaited them. It was kept by an old Badger of very uncertain temper,
and all his pupils stood in great awe of the birch rod which lay in a
conspicuous place upon his writing-table.
"It's all very well for the Hedgehogs," the scholars often grumbled to
each other. "Of course _they_ can do just what they like, as they
happen to be covered all over with quills--but for _us_ it's a very
different affair!"
Certainly strict discipline was maintained by the Badger during School
time. His eyes seemed to be upon everyone at once, and it was vain to
try and crack nuts, draw caricatures, or eat peppermint lozenges--the
rod would come down immediately with a _thump_! and the offender, as
he stood in a corner of the room with a fool's cap on, had time to
fully realize the foolishness of his own behaviour.
Forest History and Arithmetic were the Badger's two favourite studies,
and each pupil was expected to know the Multiplication Table
upside-down, and to be able to give the date of any event in
Bear-history, without a moment's hesitation.
It was perhaps not to be wondered at that the scholars were glad when
playtime arrived, and that they rushed home helter-skelter, with
shouts of joy, the moment the School-house door was thrown open.
Many practical jokes had been tried upon the old Schoolmaster, and the
offenders had invariably been severely punished, but one day in early
autumn Knut and Otto, as they walked home with their friends,
suggested a plan which would sweep away at one blow a great part of
the misery of their School life.
"You know the great History and Arithmetic books that Herr Badger
always keeps on the desk in front of him?" said Knut. "We'll scoop out
the insides and fill them with fireworks. Then directly he comes into
School, we'll let them off. What an explosion there'll be! He _will_
be frightened! No more sums and dates after that. Hurrah! Hurrah!"
The scholars jumped about with delight when they heard the young
Bears' idea, and eagerly agreed to join in the mischief.
Their mothers were quite surprised the next morning to see with what
alacrity they all started for School--half-an-hour earlier than their
usual custom--and Fru Bjornson remarked to her old servant that "she
really believed the children were beginning to take an interest in
their studies _at last_!"
The old Badger had not yet finished breakfast in his cottage by the
School-house; so his pupils were able to enter the School-room
unobserved, and had soon carried out their simple arrangements.
An oiled string was attached, winding up the leg of the table to the
fireworks; and the end was to be lighted by Knut the moment Herr
Badger had seated himself.
Everything being completed, the scholars seized their books; and when
their master appeared in the doorway, murmured a respectful greeting,
to which he responded by a stately bow.
"Your slates, pupils. We will commence as usual with a few easy sums."
A subdued groan broke from the scholars; and Knut--stooping down under
pretence of tying up his shoe--applied a match to the string, while
his companions shuffled as loudly as possible, to hide the sound of
the striking.
"Silence, if you _please_!" shouted the Badger. "Have you come to
school to dance the polka? Attend to this little problem immediately,
and mind it is correctly answered. If 10,000 Bears and a Pole-cat, ran
round a tree 1,500 times and a half, in an hour and ten minutes; each
knocking off one leaf and three-quarters every time he ran round--how
many leaves would be knocked off in a fortnight?"
"They couldn't do it," muttered a hedgehog derisively. "There
wouldn't be room for a quarter of them!"
"Make haste! Make haste!" cried the Badger, rapping his desk; but just
at that moment, _whirr!_ _whizz!_ _bang!_ The books flew open with a
loud report, and out sprang the crackers, and began to fizz and bound
about the table.
Herr Badger's black skull cap tumbled off, and he fell backwards in
his astonishment, shouting for help; while the whole school darted
away through the open door into the woods, in a state of the wildest
delight and excitement.
CHAPTER II.
Fru Bjornson was busily employed in her kitchen, stirring up some
liquid in a large saucepan. It was cranberry jam for the winter, and
on the floor stood a long row of brown jars into which it was to be
poured when the boiling was thoroughly completed.
The servant, a little thin light-brown Bear, in a large apron, waited
close by, ready to poke the fire, or give any other assistance that
was required of her.
In the salon, Herr Bjornson, with a pucker on his forehead, was adding
up his Bee accounts--for he kept a number of hives in the garden and
fields belonging to him.
Suddenly the alarm bell sounded loudly, and in rushed the Bear-mother,
with the jam-ladle in her hand, her hair almost erect with terror.
"They have found us at last! What shall we do? Where shall we fly to?"
she cried distractedly.
"Into the ice-cellar," cried Herr Bjornson, "come, Ingold. Everyone
follow me!" and he threw his papers down on the ground and ran out at
the back door.
Fortunately the ice-cellar was near the house, and the frightened
family were soon safely in its shelter.
By opening a crack in the small trap-door, which was level with the
ground, they were able to see all that went on in the garden; and the
steps afforded them a place to sit down upon, without touching the
great blocks of ice that looked white and ghostly as the thin streak
of daylight struggled in upon them.
"Is anyone coming?" whispered the Bear-mother nervously.
"I can't see anything moving," growled Herr Bjornson. "Keep back,
Mother. I can't help treading upon you. Dear me! How cramped we are
here!"
"It's terribly cold," said the Bear-mother shivering. "I can feel
myself freezing in every hair."
"Wrap your shawl round you, and stamp about a little."
Fru Bjornson attempted to carry out the directions, but the space was
so small there was scarcely room to move in it.
The air seemed to get colder and colder; Ingold's fur turned
frost-white, and she twined her apron round her head to prevent
herself from being frost-bitten.
"Oh, this is awful," quaked the Bear-mother. "We shall all die or be
turned into icicles if we can't get out before long!"
The Bear-father had put up his coat-collar and tied his bandanna
pocket-handkerchief over his ears. His hair was also covered with
white crystals, and he was seized with an attack of coughing which
obliged him to borrow the Bear-mother's shawl to bury his head in, so
that the sound might not be heard outside.
"This is painful in the extreme," he said in a choked voice as he
emerged gasping. "A cough lozenge at this moment might be the saving
of us!"
"What shall we do if the enemy hears us!" cried Fru Bjornson. "Here! I
have just found a peppermint-drop in my pocket. Let us divide it into
three. It may be some slight assistance."
They soon discovered, however, that lozenges were utterly powerless to
keep out that biting air, and the Bear-mother seated herself
resignedly on an ice-block.
"It's no good struggling against fate," she murmured. "We shall be
found by the children, I suppose. You'd better keep your arms down
straight, father; and freeze as narrow as possible. Then they will be
able to get you out of the opening without much difficulty. It seems
hard to think they will never know the true facts of the case," she
continued mournfully. "Our epitaph will probably be 'Sat down
carelessly in an Ice-house!'"
"Don't despair, Mother," cried Herr Bjornson, who had one eye
anxiously applied to the crack in the trap-door. "I see the back gate
opening. In another minute we shall know the worst--Hi! What! Well, I
never! Who do you think it is, Mother? Why, _the Schoolmaster_!"
Herr Badger indeed it was, who had come off in a great hurry to
complain of the disgraceful behaviour of his pupils, and being very
excited had inadvertently trodden on the wire of the alarm bell as he
entered the private grounds of the Bear-family.
He seemed a little surprised as the strange procession suddenly rose
up out of the ground in front of him, but without making any enquiries
as to what they had been doing there, he plunged at once into the
history of his wrongs.
CHAPTER III.
All day the Badger's scholars enjoyed themselves in the forest. They
played leap-frog, ran races, bathed in the river, had lunch in a shady
hollow, and picked more cranberries than they knew what to do with;
but as evening came on, they began to wonder a little anxiously
whether the Schoolmaster would already have been round to their
parents to complain of their behaviour; and when Knut and Otto entered
their own door in the bushes, their knees were shaking under them, and
it occurred to them that perhaps the fireworks hadn't been quite so
amusing as they expected, after all!
They were met by Herr Bjornson with a gloomy frown. There was no doubt
that Herr Badger had told him everything, and the little Bears waited
tremblingly for what was to happen next.
"What is this that I hear?" commenced the Father-bear angrily. "Your
respected Master ill-treated in his own School-house. Thrown violently
upon the ground, with crackers exploding round him for several hours!
What have you to say for yourselves?"
"Please, father, we didn't mean to hurt him," began Knut in a piping
voice; "It was only to get rid of the books. We won't do it again!"
"I should think _not_, indeed," said Herr Bjornson. "I shall punish
you myself severely to-morrow, after School time, and Herr Badger is
going to give you two hours' extra Arithmetic every day for a
fortnight."
Knut and Otto crept off miserably into the garden, and that evening
there was no dancing, and the Bear-mother's concertina was silent.
Before it was daylight next morning, Knut had awakened Otto. They had
determined the night before that they would _never_ return to Herr
Badger's rule, and the matter of the extra Arithmetic had settled
their determination.
They started with their cloaks, and with lunch in their satchels, as
if going to School--leaving a note for their mother upon the kitchen
dresser.
This letter was written with the stump of a lead pencil, and ran as
follows:--
"_To the well-born Fru Bjornson._
"_We cant keep at ilt any mor. We want to be inderpendent, and the
sums are 2 mutch. We sik our fortones, and return wen we ar rich._
"KNUT. OTTO."
As soon as they reached the forest, the two little Bears ran forward
as quickly as they could towards the river.
They intended to take any canoe they found by the shore, and row
themselves over to the opposite side. They did not know exactly what
they should do when they got there; but anyhow, they would be safe
from punishment when they were once over.
As they went along they kept as much as possible behind the underwood,
though it was so early it was scarcely likely that any of the
charcoal-burners or fishermen would be stirring.
After some search they discovered a small canoe drawn up under the
bushes, and untying it without much difficulty, they got in, and Knut
paddled actively out into the strong current.
"This _is_ independence!" cried Otto, arranging the knapsacks and
cloaks in the bow of the boat, and taking up the steering-paddle.
"What would Herr Badger say if he could see us now?"--and he chuckled.
All day they drifted down the river--watching the salmon dart about
the boulders, and the trout leap in the curling eddies. It was so
silent in the great forest, with the pine trees growing close to the
edge of the water, that at last the little Bears' high spirits began
to fail them; and as the evening came on their laughter ceased, and
they sat quietly in the canoe, steering their way between the great
rocks without speaking.
"How strong the current is here," muttered Otto at last. "I can
scarcely keep the boat straight!"
"Well, let's land and find some place to sleep in," cried Knut--but
this was more easily said than done. The moment they tried to turn the
canoe in towards the shore, it began to whirl round and round; and
finally striking against a stone, it upset the two little Bears into
the middle of the foaming river.
CHAPTER IV.
Fortunately Knut and Otto were good swimmers, and they were able after
some struggling to scramble to the shore; but they found to their
great annoyance that they had landed on the same side as that from
which they had started.
Their canoe was whirling rapidly away down the rapids, and it was
useless to think of recovering it; so the two little Bears proceeded
to dry their clothes as well as they could, and then looked about to
see if they could find a comfortable place to sleep in.
A large hollow tree stood close to the edge of the river, and into
this they climbed, and being very tired they were soon fast asleep.
They were awakened by voices.
"It's _men_!" whispered Otto, clutching Knut's arm in terror. "Oh, why
did we ever run away! They'll be _sure_ to find us!"
"Be quiet, Otto," muttered Knut. "Do you want them to hear? Lie still,
and I'll think of some way to escape."
"Are you sure this is the right tree?" said a man's voice.
"Don't you see the mark?" asked another. "The Forester put it on
himself; though it's rather high up. You'd better begin work at once,
or you'll not get through with it before he comes round again."
This was awful. Otto trembled so that he could hear his own teeth
chattering; but Knut kept his presence of mind, and poking his brother
warningly, said in a hoarse whisper,
"Wait till I give the signal, and then jump out after me as high in
the air as you can. Follow me till I tell you to stop."
An echoing blow resounded against the tree trunk, which made Knut fly
up like a sky-rocket.
"Now!" he cried, and bounding on to the edge of the opening, he jumped
right over the heads of the woodmen into the tangled bushes, followed
by Otto, and away they raced through the forest, before the astonished
men could recover themselves.
"What in the world was that?" cried the wood-cutters, rubbing their
eyes and blinking; but no one had been able to see more than two
flying brown balls, and after hunting about in vain, they decided it
must have been a couple of gigantic owls.
Only one thing did they find in the hollow tree, and that certainly
puzzled them--a small piece of crumpled paper, on which was sketched a
life-like picture of a Badger with a fool's cap on his head;
underneath, written in cramped letters--
"_How would you like it?_"
After running for about half an hour, Knut sank down panting on a
juniper bush, while Otto rolled upon the moss thoroughly exhausted.
"Arithmetic was better than this!" he panted dismally, fanning himself
with a large fern leaf. "History was better--_anything_ was better!"
"Well, we're quite safe here for the present," replied Knut, "so don't
worry yourself any more. I'm so tired I can't keep awake, and I'm sure
you can't." And, indeed, in spite of their fright, in a few minutes
both the little Bears were sound asleep again.
When they next opened their eyes, the sun was glinting through the
pine trees; and looking down on them benignly, stood a Fox in
travelling dress, with a soft felt hat upon his head.
He smiled graciously upon Knut, and beckoned him to come out of the
juniper bushes.
"Ha! ha! my good gentlemen, you are taking a comfortable rest in a
very secluded spot, but you can't escape _my_ observation!" he cried
cheerfully. "Are you on your way to some foreign Court--or perhaps you
are couriers with State secrets?"
The two little Bears, feeling very flattered, sat up and straightened
their tunics.
"The truth is, we are seeking our fortunes," said Knut with dignity.
"Oh, nothing easier," replied the Fox. "You come with me. Such hearty,
well-grown young Bears will find no difficulty in getting excellent
situations. I can almost promise you each a large income if you
implicitly follow my directions."
"Where should we go to, then?" asked Knut cautiously.
"To a dear friend of mine, who employs an immense number of workmen,"
said the Fox easily. "I will just let you see who I am before we
proceed further," and he drew a case from his pocket, and taking out a
card, presented it to the little Bears with a low bow.
"Just as if we were grown up!" whispered Otto. "Oh, Knut, how
different this is to Herr Badger!"
On the card, printed in elegant copper-plate, was the following--
"_Herr Kreutzen, Under-Secretary (and Working Member) of the Society
for promoting the welfare of Farmers._"
Knut looked at Herr Kreutzen respectfully.
"If you'll be so kind as to show us the way, we'll follow you at
once," he said. "If we could get a little breakfast on the way, we
should be glad; for we have lost our satchels, and berries are not
very satisfying."
"Come along, then!" said the Fox briskly; and seizing the two little
Bears by the paw, he dragged them into the heart of the forest at a
rapid pace.
CHAPTER V.
On the day after his visit to the Bjornson family, Herr Badger,
feeling very dull, sat alone in the cottage by the School-house.
Every one of his pupils had deserted him; for not only had the two
little Bears run away, but all their companions had also played
truant; and the whole of that part of the forest was filled with
parents anxiously searching for their missing children--like a
gigantic game of hide-and-seek.
Herr Badger called to his housekeeper to bring him the black-board, a
couple of globes, and the book of conic-sections, and for some hours
he amused himself happily; but at the end of that time he began to
experience an almost irresistible desire to teach something.
"If I can't get anyone else, I'll call Brita," he said to himself. "I
can just ask her a few easy questions suited to her limited
intellect."
The housekeeper came in, curtsying respectfully, and seated herself at
the table, as she was bidden.
"I must imagine I have given up school, and taken to private pupils,"
the Badger said to himself. "I hope she won't exasperate me, and make
me lose my temper! Now take this slate," he continued aloud, "and try
and do one of these simple sums. You'll soon get used to them--
"If five onions were to be boiled in six saucepans, how would you
divide the onions so that there would be exactly the same quantity in
each pan?"
"Chop them up," replied the housekeeper promptly.
The Badger glared. "You're not attending. I said, 'How would you
_divide_ them!'"
"You might mince them very fine, or pound them in a mortar," replied
the housekeeper anxiously. "I don't know of no other way of doing it."
"Work it out on the slate, creature!--on the _slate_!" cried Herr
Badger, thumping the table with his long ruler.
"I'd rather do it on a dish, sir," said the housekeeper, trembling.
"It's more what I'm accustomed to."
Herr Badger started up in a fury. "_You_ call yourself a private
pupil?" he shouted (quite forgetting that the housekeeper had never
called herself anything of the kind). "Go back to the kitchen
immediately."
"I could bring you the Mole who blacks the boots, if _he'd_ be any
good," said the housekeeper humbly. "I know I'm very ignorant, but the
Mole tells me he's been attending day school for years, and he reads
recipes out of the cookery-book quite beautiful."
"Don't speak to me of Moles!" said the Badger crossly. "I shall take
no more private pupils--they're not worth it." And he walked over to
the black-board, and began to draw diagrams.
"What's the good of diagrams, without a class to explain them to?" he
muttered. "I declare I believe I _was_ too hard on those children. We
can't be all equally gifted. It wouldn't be a bad idea if I went out
as one of the search parties. I declare I _will_!" he continued, his
face brightening, "and I'll make every creature I find promise to come
back to school again. I must make up a class somehow, or I shall die
of monotony."
He took down his old felt hat with the ear-flaps, and putting some
food in a knapsack, and choosing a stout walking-stick, he flung a
green cloak over his shoulders, and let himself out into the forest.
CHAPTER VI.
The Fox took the two little Bears on so quickly, that they soon began
to feel both cross and tired. To their anxious enquiries as to where
they were going, and whether they could not soon have some breakfast,
Herr Kreutzen answered vaguely that they would very soon reach their
destination, and should have as much breakfast as they could possibly
care for.
"My friends are kind worthy people, and you'll find every sort of
luxury," he said, smiling benignly.
"We seem to be coming near a town," whispered Knut to Otto. "I don't
quite like this!" and he tried to pull his paw away from the good
"Secretary of the Society for promoting the welfare of Farmers."
"Come along, my dear child. We are almost there," cried the Fox. "I am
just going to tie you both up to this tree for a minute--merely to be
sure you are quite safe and happy in my absence--and I shall return
with my kind friend, in no time!"
Herr Kreutzen took some string from his pocket as he spoke, and the
two little Bears--who saw there was no use in struggling--submitted to
be fastened together to a fir tree.
As soon as the Fox had disappeared, Otto burst into a loud roar of
terror.
"Oh, he's going to do something dreadful, I know he is! We shall
never, _never_ get away again!"
"It's no good making that noise," said Knut, angrily. "Leave off,
Otto, and let me think."
"You may think for ever," wailed Otto, "and unless you've got a pocket
knife you won't get these knots undone!" and he began to cry again
with renewed vigour.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" said a friendly voice close by.
The little Bears looked round eagerly, and saw that an elderly Badger
was approaching. He was evidently a woodcutter, for he had a large axe
in his hand, and the three young Badgers who followed him were
carrying neatly-tied bundles of sticks.
Knut stretched out his paw beseechingly.
"_Please_ cut the string! Oh, _please_, Herr Badger, make haste, and
let us get free. Herr Kreutzen will be back in a minute, and then
there'll be _no_ hope for us!"
"So this is some of _his_ work!" said the Badger angrily. "I declare
that creature is a plague to the whole forest!"
With two blows of his axe he cut the strings that bound the little
Bears; and ordering them to follow him to a place of safety, he darted
through the bushes with his children, and never stopped until they
came out into a secluded valley, at the end of which, in a small
clearing, stood a hut built of pine logs.
Before the door sat the Badger-mother with some plain sewing, while
five of the young Badger-children played about on the grass in front
of her.
"You're home early to-day, father," she said cheerfully, and added, as
she caught sight of the little Bears--"Why, wherever did you pick up
these strangers, father?"
The Badger described the unpleasant position in which he had found
them; and the whole family gathering round, Knut related their
adventures truthfully from the very beginning.
"I'll tell you where the Fox was taking you, my children," said the
Badger-mother; "There's a Wild Beast Show in the town at this present
moment, and Herr Kreutzen has already enticed two or three animals
into it. He is well paid by the showman, and would have made a good
thing out of you, because you could have been taught to dance. Oh,
what a miserable fate you have escaped from!"
Knut and Otto looked thoroughly ashamed of themselves, and began to
realize what their foolishness might have led them into.
However, no one could be miserable for long at a time in the Badger
family; they were all so happy and light-hearted--so after a good
dinner, the two little Bears ran out into the garden, and forgot their
troubles in a romp with the children.
"You did not know your old schoolmaster was a cousin of ours?"
remarked the Badger-mother, as they rested, later on, under a shady
fir tree. "He really is a worthy creature at heart, and you ought all
to try and put up with him as much as possible."
"We really _will_," cried the two little Bears heartily. "If ever we
get back again, we really _will_!" and they thoroughly intended to
keep their promises.
"I think this evening you should start for home before it grows dusk,"
said the Badger-mother. "Father will see you well on your way, and
your parents must be longing to hear of you. Come into the house now,
and I will make you look respectable."
Knut and Otto were all obedience, and followed the Badger-mother
meekly to the kitchen. Here she took down two large scrubbing-brushes,
and proceeded to give them a thorough tidying. Then their faces were
soaped, and finally two of the young Badgers' caps were placed upon
their heads--for their own had fallen off when they were upset into
the river.
The elastics were very tight under their chins, but they refrained
from saying anything--and this showed how complete was their
reformation!
Just as all the preparations were completed, there came a loud knock
at the door; and the Schoolmaster himself appeared, his clothes torn,
one flap off his hat, a bandage covering his right eye, leading in a
little crowd of scholars that he had collected with infinite toil from
many perilous positions.
There were two Hedgehogs, a young Fox, five Badgers, a Mole, and a
tame Guinea-pig. All of them were more or less scratched, and dismal
looking; and some had evidently been in the water, for their clothes
were still dripping, and hung round them in the most uncomfortable
manner.
"What! _you_ here, after all! Well, this is a happy meeting!" cried
Herr Badger, embracing the little Bears warmly. "I wasn't going home
till I'd found you--and here you are. A most fortunate coincidence!"
"Sit down, sit down, cousin," said the Badger-mother hospitably.
"Bring in the pupils, and let them dry their hair before the
fire--they seem in a sad state, poor things!"
"They certainly _do_ look a little untidy," said the Badger, "but we
shall soon remedy all that. I have been explaining to the class (at
least to as much as I've got of it)," he continued, turning to Knut,
"that the plan of the School is to be entirely reformed--ten minutes'
Arithmetic per day, and History _once_ weekly. What do you say to
that, children?"
A feeble cheer arose from the pupils; and the two little Bears,
throwing themselves upon their knees, begged their Master's pardon for
all the trouble they had caused him.
CHAPTER VII.
Fru Bjornson, seated on a camp-stool by the side of the entrance gate
to her house, was looking anxiously around her. Close by stood Ingold,
with one eye tightly screwed up, and an old-fashioned telescope in her
hand, trying in vain to adjust the focus.
"What do you see now?" enquired the Bear-mother, leaning forward.
"A great fog with snakes in it!" replied the servant truthfully.
"Why, those are _trees_, of course!" said Fru Bjornson. "Turn the
screw a little more, and it will become as plain as possible."
Ingold twisted her hand several times rapidly, and again applied her
eye to the end.
"It doesn't seem like snakes now, does it?" asked the Bear-mother
triumphantly.
"Oh, no! It's turned to milk with green splashes in it," said Ingold.
"You don't see anything of my darling children, then?" enquired Fru
Bjornson.
"Nothing at all, ma'am," said Ingold. "A telescope may be a wonderful
thing for those who haven't any eyes, but really I think _I_ see
better _without_ it."
At this moment, through the trees, an extraordinary procession came in
sight; which caused the Bear-mother to jump up from her seat with a
cry of joy.
Herr Badger, with his cloak thrown over one shoulder, leading Knut and
Otto by the hand; and behind them the rest of the pupils in single
file--depressed and gloomy, but resigned to whatever Fate might have
in store for them.
Fru Bjornson ran forward, and clasped her children in her arms.
It was a happy meeting; and as she thought the Schoolmaster would
already have gone through all the scolding that was necessary, she
refrained from adding a word more.
"I've got the class together, ma'am," said Herr Badger triumphantly,
"and I'm never going to let it go again! The new School system
commences from to-morrow!"
* * * * *
All the parents agreed that the children had been sufficiently
punished during their wanderings in the forest, and they were
therefore allowed to return to their homes, without anything more
being said on the subject.
The next morning the scholars assembled at the School-house in
excellent time; but most of them unfortunately, having lost their
satchels, were obliged to carry their books and luncheon, wrapped up
in untidy brown paper parcels--which was certainly very mortifying.
"My dear pupils," commenced Herr Badger, as he entered the room and
bowed graciously, "on this auspicious occasion, I wish to call the
Arithmetic class for ten minutes only. We will begin, if you please,
with 'twice one'--repeating it three times over _without a failure_!"
BOBBIE'S TWO SHILLINGS.
A Guinea-Pig Story.
CHAPTER I.
On a sloping lawn, before an old-fashioned, rambling house, Bobbie and
Jerry were playing at nine-pins on a hot day in August.
Under the shade of a cedar tree the under-nurse sat working; and "Aunt
Lucy"--an old lady with snow-white hair, crowned by a black mushroom
hat--was slowly pacing the gravel walk, digging out a weed here and
there with a long spud she carried for the purpose.
Jerry was only playing nine-pins because Bobbie was so fond of them.
She did not care for them herself, for she thought that as she was ten
years old they were too babyish, but Bobbie was only eight, so of
course it was not to be expected of him that he would care for
"grown-up" things.
There was a pleasant buzzing in the air, as old Jeptha Funnel led the
donkey in the mowing machine, up and down the wide lawn, pausing every
now and then to exchange a few words with the children.
"When are you a-coming to tea with us, Master Bobbie, and
Missy?" he enquired, stopping to fan his heated face with a red
pocket-handkerchief. "James Seton's got some guinea-pigs that he talks
of bringing over for you to see, any day as you'll fix upon."
"Oh, that _is_ nice. I do so long to have another!" cried Bobbie
rapturously. "I only want three-halfpence-farthing more, and I shall
have enough in my money-box to pay for it. Will James wait till
Friday?"
"Of course he will, Master Bobbie; don't you worry your head about
that."
"Well, it's an extraordinary thing, Jeptha, but you can't think how
I've been saving, and saving, and _saving_ for that guinea-pig; and it
seems as if I never _should_ have enough," said Bobbie confidentially.
"I saved up for 'Funnel'--the one that's called after you, you
know--in no time; but we were up in Scotland then, and there wasn't
hardly any shops that I _could_ spend my money in."
"Things always _do_ seem a long time a-coming when you're longing for
them, so to speak, day and night, sir."
"Yes, it's quite true that 'a watch-pocket never boils,'" said Bobbie.
"I shall leave off rattling the money-box, and try and forget all
about it till Friday."
"You're right there, sir," said Jeptha, not noticing the new rendering
of the proverb, for he was as fond of long words and sentences as
Bobbie himself; "you come right up to the cottage on Friday, along of
nurse and Miss Jerry. The missus 'll have tea for you, and _I'll_ see
that Jim brings the guinea-pigs."
"Does James Seton know anything about cats?" enquired Jerry eagerly.
"You know they're _my_ favourite animals--just like guinea-pigs are
Bobbie's--and I do want to get some new recipes for my cat-book!"
"Why whatever is a cat-book, Miss Jerry?" asked Jeptha curiously.
"Don't you know, Jeptha? I write down all sorts of cures for cats, and
what they ought to eat; and several times it's been very useful to
Miss Meadows and Maria."
"I can't say _I_ know much about the subject, Miss Jerry, nor I don't
think Jim doesn't, neither, never having made a study of it, as you
may say. Miss Meadders is the tabby cat, ain't she? A very fine cat I
call her."
"Yes; I made a portrait of her and Maria, to send to mamma out in
India, and Bobbie made a picture of Funnel (not _you_, you know). She
liked them so much. Shall I tell you why Bobbie is so interested in
guinea-pigs?" continued Jerry, taking the old man's hand, and speaking
in a mysterious whisper.
"You know Jack belongs to the 'Cavey Club' at school, where all the
boys _must_ keep guinea-pigs; and he wrote Bobbie a letter last term
with a picture of a guinea-pig on the flap of the envelope, and 'Where
is it?' written where the tail ought to be. Ever since then Bobbie has
been _mad_ after guinea-pigs."
"Yes, I can remember Master Jack a-walking in here with ten of 'em,"
said Jeptha, "and keepin' 'em in the lumber room in houses made out of
cigar-boxes."
"Oh, but Aunt Lucy found it out, and wouldn't allow it," said Jerry.
"They all had to be taken out to the stable yard again."
"I must own I think on _that_ occasion yer Aunt was reasonable, Miss
Jerry; a guinea-pig don't seem a kind of a domestic indoor
animal--like a cat, for instance."
"Will you have mufflings and crumfits for tea, do you think, when we
come?" enquired Bobbie, after a thoughtful pause. "Excuse me asking
you, but I do like them so very much."
"Oh, Bobbie, you shouldn't say that!" cried Jerry, reprovingly; "it's
very impolite. Aunt Lucy would be quite _horrified_!"
"Well, I don't _mean_ anything rude," said Bobbie. "I _do_ like them,
and I can't help it. I can't see why it's any more rude than if I said
I liked guinea-pigs."
CHAPTER II.
The next day was a very wet one; and Aunt Lucy, coming up into the
schoolroom in the morning--as she invariably did, even during the
holidays--saw a most extraordinary collection of baskets standing on
the floor, in front of a small fire of sticks blazing away in the
fireplace.
There was a large covered market basket, a fish bag with a skewer
through the top, and a small japanese basket, with a lid which was
kept in place by the poker and tongs laid carefully over it.
The baskets were all occasionally agitated from within; and Aunt Lucy
found on enquiry that they contained the guinea-pig family, who having
been flooded out of their usual quarters by the rain, had been brought
in to a fire by Bobbie to be dried!
"I really object to these animals in the house!" said Aunt Lucy,
trying to be severe; but Bobbie's face was so pathetic, she did not
order them to be taken out at once, as she had at first intended.
"As soon as they are dry you must move them away, Bobbie," she
continued; "I have had quite enough trouble with Jack's. I can't have
the house turned into a menagerie."
"Really, Aunt Lucy, you needn't mind Habbakuk and Funnel--they are so
very well behaved. I _have_ been debillerating whether I ought to
bring in Pompey, because his hair _streams_ out--but he did look so
cold and mis'rable, I thought you wouldn't objec'."
At this moment a housemaid came up to say there were visitors in the
drawing-room.
"It is your two uncles from India," said Aunt Lucy, taking Bobbie's
reluctant hand. "They have come on purpose to see you, so you must
leave the guinea-pigs for a minute--Jerry can stay with them, and
come down as soon as you return."
Bobbie departed groaning, while the under-nurse good-naturedly made up
the fire, and began to dry the guinea-pigs with an old duster.
In a few minutes Bobbie returned, his fat round face red with the
exertion of scrambling upstairs, his brown eyes sparkling.
"What are they like?" enquired Jerry, who was not fond of visitors, as
Anne brushed at her curly hair, and tried in vain to flatten it to the
nursery regulation of smoothness.
"Oh, two middle-aged, light gentlemen," replied Bobbie carelessly.
"One gave me a shilling to buy a guinea-pig, so now I'm quite safe in
telling James to bring them on Friday." And Bobbie seated himself
before the fire with Habbakuk and Funnel on his knees, and rubbed away
at them vigorously.
Jerry retired downstairs, but reappeared in a very short time--rushing
into the room again like a whirlwind.
"What do you think the uncles have promised us, Bobbie?" she cried
excitedly; "guess the most beautifullest thing you can possibly think
of!"
"Guin----" commenced Bobbie, and checked himself hastily.
"Certainly not!" said Jerry, with decision. "I said I must run up and
tell you, you'd be so _wild_ with joy; it begins with a 'P'--but it
isn't 'pig.' Now guess again."
"Prawns, p'rambulators, prongs, pastry," commenced Bobbie rapidly.
"Well, none of those are very nice except pastry. I can't think of
anything more, Jerry, you _must_ tell me."
"Pantomime!" said Jerry, triumphantly; "_next Saturday!_--what do you
say to that?"
Bobbie's eyes twinkled. "With preserved seats, like we had last time!
Oh, splendid!" and he began to caper about the room with delight.
"Well, this _has_ been a day!" he exclaimed, as he sank down, quite
exhausted. "What a lot for my diary! I'd better write it out at once,
before I forget it."
A large book, interleaved with blotting-paper, was disinterred from
the play-box, and Bobbie sat down before it solemnly.
The greater part of this book was filled with minute accounts of what
time its owner got up, and went to bed, what pudding he had for
dinner, and what lessons he learnt; but on this occasion the entry
assumed such large proportions that it spread right over the next day,
and was wandering into "Friday," when Bobbie suddenly remembered the
tea-party, and that room must certainly be left for _that_!
Jerry, looking over his shoulder, when he had finished, read the
following, adorned with many blots and smudges:--
"Had sutch a day. 2 lite gentlemen who turnered into Unkels ('You
mean, "turned _out_ to be uncles,"' corrected Jerry) came And gave
me 1 shiling for the brown ginny-pig I acepted with thanks they
are goin to tak us Jerry and me to the pantermine and tea at Mrs.
Funnels on Fryday (not the Unkels but nurs).
"P.S.--Plenty mor to say but no rume. cant put the puding to-day."
CHAPTER III.
One of Bobbie's and Jerry's greatest treats was to have tea at the
cottage on the edge of the park, where old Mrs. Funnel presided over a
table covered with cakes and home-made delicacies.
She always liked them to appear in good time; so punctually at four
o'clock on Friday, the invited tea-party--consisting of "Old Nurse,"
in a crackling black silk, Jerry in spotless frilled cotton, and
Bobbie in a white sailor's suit, bristling with starch and pearl
buttons--made their way through the little garden of the Funnels'
house, and rapped importantly on the door with the end of nurse's
umbrella.
Mrs. Funnel, who had been awaiting the summons, welcomed them
heartily; and Bobbie was relieved to see--on taking a cursory glance
at the table--that besides the usual array of good things, there was a
covered dish, which meant, as he knew by experience--muffins.
Jeptha, in his Sunday coat, with a red geranium in his button-hole,
looked cheerfully conscious of his own splendour; and his wife's
little wrinkled face beamed with kindness and hospitality.
"Jim can't get away yet, I'm sorry to say," she said, "but he'll be in
afterwards. Sit down, all of you, please. Draw up to the table,
ma'am!"
Bobbie deposited his dog-skin gloves carefully in his hat, and seated
himself solemnly, trying to keep his eyes off the plum cake, for the
sake of good manners.
"This bread's a bit heavy, mother!" remarked Jeptha, grappling with a
large loaf in the centre of the table.
"I don't know how that can be," replied Mrs. Funnel cheerfully. "It
rose enough."
"Then it must ha' sat down again!" said Jeptha. "It's that worritting
oven, ma'am"--turning to nurse; "I assure you we _do_ have a time with
it sometimes."
The tea began merrily, and just in the middle of it the door opened,
and James Seton's sunburnt face looked in. He carried a basket which
Bobbie pounced upon eagerly, for he knew it contained the
long-expected guinea-pigs.
Behind Jim stood a little woe-begone creature in a ragged dress, her
head covered by a large crumpled sun-bonnet. The tears were rolling
down her face, and in her hand she held the bottom of a broken glass
medicine bottle.
"Look here, grandmother," said Jim, "I picked up this unfort'net
little mortal just outside the Lodge gates. She'd been into town to
buy some lotion for her sick mother, and she went and fell up against
a stone, and smashed her bottle; and now she's in a terrible state of
mind about it."
The little girl was still crying bitterly; and Bobbie, who was very
tender-hearted, furtively wiped his eyes with the back of his hand,
and looked hard out of the window.
"Sit you down, child, and have some tea. You're fair worn out with
misery," said Mrs. Funnel kindly. "After that we'll think of what's to
be done. How much did the medicine cost, child?"
"Two shillings," said the child, with a fresh burst of sobbing.
Bobbie discovered, to his great annoyance, that two large tears had
fallen down his own cheeks out of sympathy; and at the same moment he
seemed to feel his little wash-leather purse growing so large, that he
almost fancied in another moment it would burst out of his pocket.
Exactly two shillings were in it--the price of the bottle of lotion,
or of two of Jim's guinea-pigs! Which should it be?
"If only I hadn't bought Maria's collar last Monday, I could have got
you a bottle _easily_," cried Jerry, in great distress. "I've only
twopence-halfpenny left, but _do_ take it. Oh, you poor little girl, I
_am_ so sorry for you!"
Bobbie felt very guilty, and his money seemed to weigh upon him like
lead. He watched the attractive brown guinea-pigs--who had been let
out of their basket--gambol about the parlour. His mind was a chaos.
Suddenly he snatched out his purse, and thrust the two shillings into
the little girl's hand, before she could say anything.
"Get the medicine, please," he said, in a gruff voice. "I don't want
the guinea-pigs, thank you, Jim." And opening the door hurriedly, he
darted off across the park towards home.
CHAPTER IV.
"I do think it was one of the goodest things I ever heard of," said
Jerry confidentially, as she drove with one of the "light gentlemen"
to the pantomime.
She had just finished an account of Bobbie's heroic sacrifice of the
day before; and as Bobbie himself was following in a hansom cab, with
the other uncle, it was quite safe to relate the whole story without
fear of interruptions.
"He wanted those guinea-pigs _dreadfully_," continued Jerry, "and he
gave everything he had to the poor little girl. He cried horribly
about it, though. He was literally _roaring_ when we got back from
Mrs. Funnel's tea, though he went and hid himself so that we shouldn't
know; but nurse said his blouse was quite _damp_!"
"Shall we go round on our way back, and order Bobbie some new
guinea-pigs, as a surprise?" asked Uncle Ronald, who had listened to
the story with all the respectful sympathy expected of him.
Jerry gave a shriek of delight. "Oh, how _lovely_! May I choose? I
know just his favourite colours."
As Bobbie took his usual stroll into the stable yard on Monday
morning, he was astonished to see Jeptha approaching him with a large
box on a wheelbarrow.
"Summut for you, Master Bobbie. Come by rail; and there seems to be a
deal of moving about and squeaking a-goin' on inside!"
Bobbie unfastened the covers with feverish haste; and there was a
hutch such as he had never even _dreamt_ of, with a row of four little
eager noses sticking out between the bars.
A label hanging to the wire said, "From the two light gentlemen."
"Well now, Master Bobbie, if ever I saw the like of that!" cried
Jeptha admiringly. "Why, they're all a-sittin' as comfortable as you
please, in a kind of a Eastern palace."
Bobbie, who was almost delirious with delight and excitement, ran in
to fetch Jerry.
"Oh, Jerry, come out!" he cried. "The light gentlemen--in a splendid
blue cage with red stripes, come by train! And such guinea-pigs! Just
the kind I wanted--two long-hair. Oh, I do think this is the
splendidest day of my life, and as long as I live I won't never forget
it!"