Veronica lay very still in bed, then she stretched out as far as she
could. Her feet travelled down to that cold region near where the sheets
and blankets disappear under the mattress. She was certainly still
awake, for one doesn’t stretch in dreams, and if one did one would
certainly wake up.
Then she cautiously raised herself upon one elbow and looked round,
slowly, at the fire. Ever since Teddy had said that Mr. Snoogles lived
up the chimney she had regarded the fire with much greater interest, not
to say dread. Not that Mr. Snoogles was real. He was just fun. And yet,
though Veronica knew he was only fun, she often wondered how he managed
to fit in the inside of the chimney—if, that is, he was at all like
father, or even Dr. Blackie (who wasn’t at all big for a man). But then
Teddy was the only person who claimed to have ever seen this person who
had taken refuge in their chimneys, and he couldn’t be made to describe
him.
In the morning and in the afternoon Mr. Snoogles was much more amusing
than any shop-bought game. Veronica would laugh over him, and invent
long conversations in which he said such silly things! But when the
evening crept on, and the fire crackled in the grate, and flickered on
the walls, it made it all so different. Why do things which aren’t true
make you think they are true, at night?
Veronica remembered uneasily a curious dream. She was no longer a big
girl with short hair and long thin legs; she was a green velvet
pin-cushion, and pins of various sizes and colours were just about to be
stuck into her before she was sent off to a village bazaar. Though that
was only a dream, for a long time she never saw a pin-cushion without
thinking of herself as one....
And now, to-night, she at last lay back in bed out of sight of the fire,
and tried to plan adventures for the next day. Why did real adventures
always pass her by?
Suddenly she heard a curious low rumbling sound. For a moment she hoped
and yet dreaded that it came from the direction of the chimney, but when
the sound got louder, as it did very soon, she burst out laughing, for
it was only Teddy snoring. The door between their rooms was open, so no
wonder she heard him. How funny, and how disappointing!
In time Veronica’s eyes closed without her noticing it, and lying there,
so comfortable and so warm in bed, just on that borderland of the
ordinary world of lessons and rice pudding (when one expected something
else with jam on it) and that other delicious world of dreams and vague
sensations.
But all at once Veronica heard a great clatter. She sat up in bed and
opened her eyes wide to see in the firelight a most curious little
person. He had leapt out of the chimney and dropped all the fire-irons
in a heap at his feet. She could see them lying there on the white
woolly mat, all at sixes and sevens.
He was very small, about as high as the poker. He had large round eyes,
nearly as round as two pennies. And on his head, perched on the very
top, was the lid of the nursery kettle! It was a copper kettle, and was
always kept very bright.
The stranger was dressed in black and his clothes fitted him quite
tight, like a well-drawn-up stocking or a glove.
Veronica gazed at him, her eyes growing almost as round as his own.
Then he stamped his foot, and raising his arms over his head, he made a
low bow.
“Madam, your wish to see me, though it is only prompted by idle
curiosity, has brought me down from my kingdom among the chimney pots. I
have a request to make to you. Will you take my place for a few hours? I
am called away on urgent private affairs, but I cannot leave my work up
there unless you will give me your help.”
His voice was high and sharp. It was rather like listening to a sparrow.
[Illustration: “HE MADE A LOW BOW”]
He went straight on, without waiting for an answer. “It is a mistake to
suppose that I live in the chimney. It would be most disagreeable to do
so, as I should have thought you, who have imagination, would realize.
But I am talking too much. I wait respectfully, Madam, for your answer.
Will you help me?”
Veronica wriggled uncomfortably under the warm bedclothes.
“I will help you if I can.” She was a cautious, as well as a truthful,
child, so she added hastily, “I don’t want to say I will, if I can’t.
And are you—_are_ you Mr. Snoogles?”
The strange little man standing on the mat threw back his head so
suddenly that the lid of the kettle fell off and bounced away behind the
coal scuttle.
“Oh, how funny!” he laughed. “I shall add that to my collection. No, I’m
_not_ Mr. Snoogles; but I am the person whom your brother calls Mr.
Snoogles.”
“So Teddy _has_ seen you after all. Sometimes I thought Mr. Snoogles was
only a game.”
“Indeed, I’m not a game. What a horrid thing to be! Imagine being a
football?”
“Or a pin-cushion,” said Veronica hastily. “I know because I believed I
was one once, but only for a short time,” she added, because she was
truthful, but also in case Mr. Snoogles found a stray pin on the floor
and, remembering what she had said, might stick it into her. He looked
such a tidy man.
“I can assure you, Madam, that I will not request you to do anything at
all difficult. I shall only require your services for a short period—say
about ten years.”
“_Ten years?_ But in ten years I shall be quite old—that is, quite grown
up. I shall be twenty-one.”
“Well, what of that? My work is much more amusing than what you do all
day—lessons, walks, quarrels.”
Veronica felt a little taken aback.
“But I don’t quarrel—that is to say, not much, not nearly as much as do
our cousins in the country or as the long-haired family we see in the
park. Would you like to hear my names? I am not madam yet. You see, I am
not married. And won’t you sit down?”
“No, I never sit down. It’s lazy. Proceed with your names. Though I know
what I call you to myself.”
“I was christened Elizabeth Veronica Sybella—now, what do _you_ call
me?”
“Never mind. Don’t ask questions. It’s bad manners.”
Veronica felt annoyed, but she put her pride in her pocket and asked:
“If I do what you want me to do—will you tell me then?”
“I shall if you deserve it.”
What a horrid thing to say! How like a holiday governess!—the sort that
Veronica and her brother had had last summer.
“We must be gone. You have been wasting _our_ time. Not that time is
money to me.”
“Isn’t it? It is to father, though how he makes it into money I don’t
know. I have so much time I could make such a lot of money if only I
knew how to do it.”
“Money is silly stuff. Look how easily it burns. Only yesterday I saw
the kitchenmaid at No. 5 throw a five-pound note on to the fire. She
didn’t know what it was, poor silly girl, though she is very clever at
washing cups and saucers. Come on now!”
Veronica jumped out of bed, and ran over to the fireplace.
“Do we go up there?” she said, looking at the chimney and then at the
dying fire. “Won’t it burn?”
“Not when you are with me. Fire is my servant. I am fire’s lord and
master. But if you feel at all nervous I will command it to die.”
With these dramatic words Mr. Snoogles clapped his hands together and
cried out: “Servant, hide thyself! Let thy light burn dim while we pass
over you.”
Instantly the coals grew grey and dusty.
Mr. Snoogles put out his hand, and taking Veronica’s fingers firmly in
his, he pulled her up, and soon she found herself being drawn up higher
and higher.
“When we get to the top I will explain what you have to do.”
Veronica said nothing. Adventure had come at last—the real thing, better
than any story-book she had ever read, because it was happening to
her—actually to her.
They suddenly came out into the night air. To the right, to the left, in
fact, wherever she looked, were chimney pots. Some had strange things on
them like hats.
Then it was that Veronica noticed she had become about the same size as
Mr. Snoogles. She did not feel cold, either, which was stranger still.
But she sat down as she had been told, and gazed about her. High above,
the stars were twinkling and the young moon was shining.
Mr. Snoogles coughed.
“Have you finished thinking your thoughts, and will you now think of
mine?” he said crossly.
“I am so sorry. Please tell me yours.”
“My business—and soon it will be _your_ business, don’t forget—is to be
the Watchman of Fire and Smoke. Smoke is used for punishment because it
is unpleasant. But Fire brings warmth and happiness. You will have power
over them both, but you must keep Fire in his proper place. When you see
things not going well in a house then send down Smoke. If they bear it
well, and cease to think of themselves, call it back and ask Fire to
burn brightly to warm them, and to make them feel happy and cheerful. If
a live coal flies out on the mat, you must be there to make it go out. A
house on fire is a terrible thing, and means you have not been doing
your work properly.” He waited a moment, then exclaimed: “I must be
going soon, so do your best!”
[Illustration: “HAVE YOU FINISHED THINKING YOUR THOUGHTS”]
“But how shall I——?” Veronica looked round, but Mr. Snoogles had
vanished, and she found herself alone on the roof.
“I can’t do it, it’s too difficult,” she said to herself, “much more
difficult than learning a long speech out of Shakespeare. One can always
do that if one really tries, but this——?”
* * * * *
“Veronica, Veronica, I have been screaming at you for ages. There is a
big fire outside! That empty house is burning down, I can see it from my
window——”
Teddy was jumping about in his pyjamas. “Come along! Hurry up!” he
shouted.
Veronica got out of bed as if she was dreaming. Then she cried in great
distress, “It’s my fault—that fire. Mr. Snoogles said I must not allow
it to happen.”
“Don’t be so silly. Mr. Snoogles isn’t real. Come along!”
The two children ran to the window, and in the excitement of watching
the fire engines arrive, and the water pouring out of the great hose
pipes Veronica forgot her part in this tragedy.
Later in the morning, as they were coming in from a walk, Veronica said,
“Teddy, what was Mr. Snoogles really like when you saw him? Do tell me
and I will tell you a great secret.”
“Mr. Snoogles? I will show him to you.”
Teddy took off his coat and hat, and running halfway up the stairs, he
threw his coat round a pillar which marked the half landing. Then he put
his cap on the round knot at the top.
“Veronica! Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Snoogles!”
“Teddy! D’you mean you never saw him really? I have.”
“Of course I didn’t. And you haven’t either!”
Veronica said nothing to that. She knew better.
[Illustration]