BRUNO'S REVENGE.
After that we had a few minutes of silence, while I sorted out the
pebbles, and amused myself with watching Bruno's plan of gardening. It
was quite a new plan to me: he always measured each bed before he weeded
it, as if he was afraid the weeding would make it shrink; and once, when
it came out longer than he wished, he set to work to thump the mouse
with his little fist, crying out "There now! It's all gone wrong again!
Why don't oo keep oor tail straight when I tell oo!"
"I'll tell you what I'll do," Bruno said in a half-whisper, as we
worked. "Oo like Fairies, don't oo?"
"Yes," I said: "of course I do, or I shouldn't have come here. I should
have gone to some place where there are no Fairies."
Bruno laughed contemptuously. "Why, oo might as well say oo'd go to some
place where there wasn't any air--supposing oo didn't like air!"
This was a rather difficult idea to grasp. I tried a change of subject.
"You're nearly the first Fairy I ever saw. Have _you_ ever seen any
people besides me?"
"Plenty!" said Bruno. "We see 'em when we walk in the road."
"But they ca'n't see _you_. How is it they never tread on you?"
"Ca'n't _tread_ on us," said Bruno, looking amused at my ignorance.
"Why, suppose oo're walking, here--so--" (making little marks on the
ground) "and suppose there's a Fairy--that's me--walking _here_. Very
well then, oo put one foot here, and one foot here, so oo doosn't tread
on the Fairy."
This was all very well as an explanation, but it didn't convince me.
"Why shouldn't I put one foot _on_ the Fairy?" I asked.
"I don't know _why_," the little fellow said in a thoughtful tone. "But
I know oo _wouldn't_. Nobody never walked on the top of a Fairy. Now
I'll tell oo what I'll do, as oo're so fond of Fairies. I'll get oo an
invitation to the Fairy-King's dinner-party. I know one of the
head-waiters."
I couldn't help laughing at this idea. "Do the waiters invite the
guests?" I asked.
"Oh, not _to sit down_!" Bruno said. "But to wait at table. Oo'd like
that, wouldn't oo? To hand about plates, and so on."
"Well, but that's not so nice as sitting at the table, is it?"
"Of course it isn't," Bruno said, in a tone as if he rather pitied my
ignorance; "but if oo're not even Sir Anything, oo ca'n't expect to be
allowed to sit at the table, oo know."
I said, as meekly as I could, that I didn't expect it, but it was the
only way of going to a dinner-party that I really enjoyed. And Bruno
tossed his head, and said, in a rather offended tone, that I might do as
I pleased--there were many he knew that would give their ears to go.
"Have you ever been yourself, Bruno?"
"They invited me once, last week," Bruno said, very gravely. "It was to
wash up the soup-plates--no, the cheese-plates I mean--that was grand
enough. And I waited at table. And I didn't hardly make only _one_
mistake."
"What was it?" I said. "You needn't mind telling _me_."
"Only bringing scissors to cut the beef with," Bruno said carelessly.
"But the grandest thing of all was, _I_ fetched the King a glass of
cider!"
"That _was_ grand!" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.
"Wasn't it?" said Bruno, very earnestly. "Oo know it isn't every one
that's had such an honour as _that_!"
This set me thinking of the various queer things we call "an honour" in
this world, but which, after all, haven't a bit more honour in them than
what Bruno enjoyed, when he took the King a glass of cider.
I don't know how long I might not have dreamed on in this way, if Bruno
hadn't suddenly roused me. "Oh, come here quick!" he cried, in a state
of the wildest excitement. "Catch hold of his other horn! I ca'n't hold
him more than a minute!"
He was struggling desperately with a great snail, clinging to one of its
horns, and nearly breaking his poor little back in his efforts to drag
it over a blade of grass.
I saw we should have no more gardening if I let this sort of thing go
on, so I quietly took the snail away, and put it on a bank where he
couldn't reach it. "We'll hunt it afterwards, Bruno," I said, "if you
really want to catch it. But what's the use of it when you've got it?"
"What's the use of a fox when oo've got it?" said Bruno. "I know oo big
things hunt foxes."
I tried to think of some good reason why "big things" should hunt foxes,
and he should not hunt snails, but none came into my head: so I said at
last, "Well, I suppose one's as good as the other. I'll go snail-hunting
myself some day."
"I should think oo wouldn't be so silly," said Bruno, "as to go
snail-hunting by oorself. Why, oo'd never get the snail along, if oo
hadn't somebody to hold on to his other horn!"
"Of course I sha'n't go _alone_," I said, quite gravely. "By the way, is
that the best kind to hunt, or do you recommend the ones without
shells?"
"Oh, no, we never hunt the ones without shells," Bruno said, with a
little shudder at the thought of it. "They're always so cross about it;
and then, if oo tumbles over them, they're ever so sticky!"
By this time we had nearly finished the garden. I had fetched some
violets, and Bruno was just helping me to put in the last, when he
suddenly stopped and said "I'm tired."
"Rest then," I said: "I can go on without you, quite well."
Bruno needed no second invitation: he at once began arranging the dead
mouse as a kind of sofa. "And I'll sing oo a little song," he said, as
he rolled it about.
"Do," said I: "I like songs very much."
"Which song will oo choose?" Bruno said, as he dragged the mouse into a
place where he could get a good view of me. "'Ting, ting, ting' is the
nicest."
There was no resisting such a strong hint as this: however, I pretended
to think about it for a moment, and then said "Well, I like 'Ting, ting,
ting,' best of all."
[Illustration: BRUNO'S REVENGE]
"That shows oo're a good judge of music," Bruno said, with a pleased
look. "How many hare-bells would oo like?" And he put his thumb into his
mouth to help me to consider.
As there was only one cluster of hare-bells within easy reach, I said
very gravely that I thought one would do _this_ time, and I picked it
and gave it to him. Bruno ran his hand once or twice up and down the
flowers, like a musician trying an instrument, producing a most
delicious delicate tinkling as he did so. I had never heard flower-music
before--I don't think one can, unless one's in the 'eerie' state--and I
don't know quite how to give you an idea of what it was like, except by
saying that it sounded like a peal of bells a thousand miles off. When
he had satisfied himself that the flowers were in tune, he seated
himself on the dead mouse (he never seemed really comfortable anywhere
else), and, looking up at me with a merry twinkle in his eyes, he began.
By the way, the tune was rather a curious one, and you might like to try
it for yourself, so here are the notes.
[Illustration: "TING, TING, TING"]
"Rise, oh, rise! The daylight dies:
The owls are hooting, ting, ting, ting!
Wake, oh, wake! Beside the lake
The elves are fluting, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our Fairy King,
We sing, sing, sing."
He sang the first four lines briskly and merrily, making the hare-bells
chime in time with the music; but the last two he sang quite slowly and
gently, and merely waved the flowers backwards and forwards. Then he
left off to explain. "The Fairy-King is Oberon, and he lives across the
lake--and sometimes he comes in a little boat--and we go and meet
him--and then we sing this song, you know."
"And then you go and dine with him?" I said, mischievously.
"Oo shouldn't talk," Bruno hastily said: "it interrupts the song so."
I said I wouldn't do it again.
"I never talk myself when I'm singing," he went on very gravely: "so
_oo_ shouldn't either." Then he tuned the hare-bells once more, and
sang:--
"Hear, oh, hear! From far and near
The music stealing, ting, ting, ting!
Fairy bells adown the dells
Are merrily pealing, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our Fairy King,
We ring, ring, ring.
"See, oh, see! On every tree
What lamps are shining, ting, ting, ting!
They are eyes of fiery flies
To light our dining, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our Fairy King
They swing, swing, swing.
"Haste, oh haste, to take and taste
The dainties waiting, ting, ting, ting!
Honey-dew is stored----"
"Hush, Bruno!" I interrupted in a warning whisper. "She's coming!"
Bruno checked his song, and, as she slowly made her way through the long
grass, he suddenly rushed out headlong at her like a little bull,
shouting "Look the other way! Look the other way!"
"Which way?" Sylvie asked, in rather a frightened tone, as she looked
round in all directions to see where the danger could be.
"_That_ way!" said Bruno, carefully turning her round with her face to
the wood. "Now, walk backwards--walk gently--don't be frightened: oo
sha'n't trip!"
But Sylvie _did_ trip notwithstanding: in fact he led her, in his hurry,
across so many little sticks and stones, that it was really a wonder the
poor child could keep on her feet at all. But he was far too much
excited to think of what he was doing.
I silently pointed out to Bruno the best place to lead her to, so as to
get a view of the whole garden at once: it was a little rising ground,
about the height of a potato; and, when they had mounted it, I drew back
into the shade, that Sylvie mightn't see me.
I heard Bruno cry out triumphantly "_Now_ oo may look!" and then
followed a clapping of hands, but it was all done by Bruno himself.
Sylvie was silent--she only stood and gazed with her hands clasped
together, and I was half afraid she didn't like it after all.
Bruno too was watching her anxiously, and when she jumped down off the
mound, and began wandering up and down the little walks, he cautiously
followed her about, evidently anxious that she should form her own
opinion of it all, without any hint from him. And when at last she drew
a long breath, and gave her verdict--in a hurried whisper, and without
the slightest regard to grammar--"It's the loveliest thing as I never
saw in all my life before!" the little fellow looked as well pleased as
if it had been given by all the judges and juries in England put
together.
"And did you really do it all by yourself, Bruno?" said Sylvie. "And all
for me?"
"I was helped a bit," Bruno began, with a merry little laugh at her
surprise. "We've been at it all the afternoon--I thought oo'd like--"
and here the poor little fellow's lip began to quiver, and all in a
moment he burst out crying, and running up to Sylvie he flung his arms
passionately round her neck, and hid his face on her shoulder.
There was a little quiver in Sylvie's voice too, as she whispered "Why,
what's the matter, darling?" and tried to lift up his head and kiss him.
But Bruno only clung to her, sobbing, and wouldn't be comforted till he
had confessed. "I tried--to spoil oor garden--first--but I'll
never--never--" and then came another burst of tears, which drowned the
rest of the sentence. At last he got out the words "I liked--putting in
the flowers--for _oo_, Sylvie--and I never was so happy before." And the
rosy little face came up at last to be kissed, all wet with tears as it
was.
Sylvie was crying too by this time, and she said nothing but "Bruno,
dear!" and "_I_ never was so happy before," though why these two
children who had never been so happy before should both be crying was a
mystery to _me_.
_I_ felt very happy too, but of course I didn't cry: "big things" never
do, you know--we leave all that to the Fairies. Only I think it must
have been raining a little just then, for I found a drop or two on my
cheeks.
After that they went through the whole garden again, flower by flower,
as if it were a long sentence they were spelling out, with kisses for
commas, and a great hug by way of a full-stop when they got to the end.
"Doos oo know, that was my river-edge, Sylvie?" Bruno solemnly began.
Sylvie laughed merrily. "What _do_ you mean?" she said. And she pushed
back her heavy brown hair with both hands, and looked at him with
dancing eyes in which the big tear-drops were still glittering.
Bruno drew in a long breath, and made up his mouth for a great effort.
"I mean re-venge," he said: "now oo under'tand." And he looked so happy
and proud at having said the word right at last, that I quite envied
him. I rather think Sylvie didn't "under'tand" at all; but she gave him
a little kiss on each cheek, which seemed to do just as well.
So they wandered off lovingly together, in among the buttercups, each
with an arm twined round the other, whispering and laughing as they
went, and never so much as once looked back at poor me. Yes, once, just
before I quite lost sight of them, Bruno half turned his head, and
nodded me a saucy little good-bye over one shoulder. And that was all
the thanks I got for _my_ trouble. The very last thing I saw of them was
this--Sylvie was stooping down with her arms round Bruno's neck, and
saying coaxingly in his ear, "Do you know, Bruno, I've quite forgotten
that hard word. Do say it once more. Come! Only this once, dear!"
But Bruno wouldn't try it again.