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(illustration)
BY
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY GERTRUDE BRADLEY
ALEXANDER MORING LIMITED
THE DE LA MORE PRESS
32 GEORGE STREET
HANOVER SQUARE
LONDON W
1904
(dedication)
TO LUCY AND JOHN
One hot morning in August, at one of the great London stations, three
children were struggling with bundles of rugs, umbrellas,
tennis-rackets, and countless packages, while their parents tried to
take tickets at the booking-office.
Such crowds of parents and children were running away from the airless
town: the station people were distracted.
Perhaps the intense heat tried them, and perhaps they were all longing
for a seaside holiday themselves. The porters, especially, were dreadfully
cross, and the three children decided that one of themselves would be
beheaded or befooted, or have some important limb broken, in the violent
rushing of overladen trolleys and men.
The children were called "The Three Rs" because all their
names began with an R--Roger, Rachael, and Ruby.
The Three Rs, then, who were determined children, had no intention of
being left behind this hot afternoon at the station, so they pushed
vigorously through less determined families and, by degrees, conveyed their
smaller bundles and belongings to the train.
Ruby, the youngest of the three, was not quite satisfied with the manner
of their progress.
"It seems so rude," she said, when at last they breathed
freely in front of an empty carriage, "to push and poke like
that." She had begun by saying "I beg your pardon,"
politely, each time she was knocked by somebody against somebody else; but
this had hap-
pened so often she grew tired of repeating it, and when at last a deaf old gentleman--on to whose hat her umbrella by some strange manoeuvre had hooked itself--asked in a loud and angry voice why she was muttering, she gave it up altogether, and finished her scramble like the others without any attempt at apology.
"Never mind," said Roger, "we've found a
carriage, and that's the chief thing: one must
push and poke if one wants to go. Here we are,
father--mother--and there are your corner seats."
"You wonderful children," exclaimed their father. "I
went back to find you and decided you were all lost! I never expected such
luxury as this," he continued as he stepped into the carriage and
leaned back in one of the precious corner seats. "I thought we should
probably travel in the guard's van, or on the engine."
"Well now," said Roger, when they were seated comfortably in
the carriage, and the last package, a bursting hamper, had been placed on
the seat beside him, "let's shut the door and have
dinner."
"My dear son," began his mother; and as she spoke a crowd of
faces surged round the door, and three more than its proper number of
passengers suddenly filled the compartment.
"Must get in somewhere," explained the extra ones as they
squeezed themselves in beside Roger, Rachael, and Ruby.
The Three Rs contrived not to be quite squeezed out of their seats, but
they inwardly resented the situation.
"There isn't room to eat any dinner," sighed Rachael,
holding out her arms stiffly in front of her.
"Don't let us be like the porters," whispered Ruby
anxiously.
"I wonder what the porters have for dinner?" she went on
aloud. "I hope they have it comfortably all together."
"That is unlikely," said her mother, from her
safely-secured corner. "I expect they snatch it in picnic
manner between whiles."
"Poor porters!" Ruby looked compassionately at the great
army of them disappearing now along the platform.
"We're off."
"Yes; we're off."
"We shall soon be at Sea-thrift--hurrah!"
And in a few minutes the children had forgotten the porters, and the
noisy station, and the crowded, uncomfortable carriage, for they were
really on their way to the sea, to the fresh air and the fields--to
their long-promised Sea-thrift. Nothing is so sweet as the
first few miles of country when one travels out from the town on a summer
holiday. The spirits of the Three Rs rose higher and higher, as the train
hurried along through miles and miles of green fields, and left the miles
and miles of houses behind them.
Their train was determined to lose no time on the journey. It flew
through the little country stations and across the narrow bridges without
stopping, and it swayed from side to side in its haste like a ship at
sea. But the Three Rs only laughed, and said: "We shall be there directly."
It was a flat country through which they were whirled, and it showed
them a great stretch of summer sky, and they thought, as they looked at it,
how clear and blue it was and how delicate and beautiful the little fleecy
clouds were away on the horizon.
By-and-by the banks on each side of the line grew red and
yellow with poppies and hawkweeds, and beyond the banks, on each side,
cornfields shone like gold in the sunshine.
Then they came to a land of rivers, where white sails shone upon the
water and danced gaily along in a light wind; but their train never
stopped. On and onward it rushed, regardless of the pleasant things by the
way.
"How dreadfully tired it will be," said Ruby, after a longer
silence than usual.
"What is 'it'?" asked Roger.
"The train; don't you think it must be out of breath by
now?"
"Oh dear, no," answered Roger, laughing; "and if it
were it would have to hurry on just the same to keep its
appointment."
"Appointment!"
"With the station clock," explained Roger. "It's
obliged to dash along with its eyes shut."
When at last the train, after many hours, did stop, it was at the
prettiest little station the children had ever seen. Flower-beds,
full of blossom, stretched along the
gravel platform, and behind the flowers were leafy trees. It was more like a cherished garden than a station.
"We've come, we've come." The children clapped
their hands and sprang up and danced with delight in spite of the limited
space.
"Rachael, Rachael," cried Ruby excitedly, quite forgetful of
their fellow-travellers, "I do hope we shall find
fairies here; don't you think we shall? Do say you think
we shall!"
Rachael looked critically at the flowers and trees.
"I know you will find them here," said a white-haired
old gentleman whom they had not noticed in the carriage before. "I
know you will," he repeated, while Rachael still looked doubtful. And
in the bustle of leaving the closely-packed compartment, the
white-haired old gentleman slipped away without further explanation.
He was wise, perhaps, in doing this, for Ruby had thought of some searching
questions, while the bundles were being collected and the door handle
turned; and when Ruby asked questions she insisted upon clear answers.
"Who is he?" asked the children eagerly, as they passed
through the little booking-office into a sweet country road.
"What a dear old man! Does he live here--shall we see him
sometimes?"
"I hope not," smiled their mother. "He is the
doctor."
A sudden silence fell upon the party. Measles and whooping-cough,
and lesser complaints, had in-
terrupted several terms and obliged them to put aside their books; and once Rachael had been so ill-advised as to have bronchitis on a Christmas holiday, and thereby missed a Christmas tree and a bran pie. These misfortunes, however, had been borne without complaint, especially the interruption of the school work; but the idea of being pursued by illness on a seaside holiday had never before been presented to them, and they dismissed it in serious silence.
Then they jumped, light-hearted once more, into the trap which
had come to meet them, and bowled along grassy roads, across commons, and
through sweet-smelling lanes, till they came to a cottage with
"Sea-thrift" printed neatly on its garden gate.
The cottage was covered with fuchsia and white jasmine, and over its
porch roses and honeysuckle hung in masses of blossom.
The children opened the gate and stepped soberly into the
garden--their very own garden--they could not believe in it now
they saw it. So long had they imagined and talked of a garden of their very
own--a garden by the sea, a garden full of flowers and birds and
butterflies--that when they actually saw it they could scarcely
believe in its reality. Until now the Three Rs had spent their summer
holidays in seaside lodgings; and, however nice seaside lodgings may be,
and however kind a seaside landlady may be, there never can be anything so
lovely as a garden of one's very own.
The father and mother of the Three Rs went
quietly into the cottage, leaving the children to accustom themselves to this happier new arrangement; and the children walked up the broad gravel path, hand in hand, and looked round their garden without speaking.
There was a great deal in it at which to look. On each side of the path
was a wide border of flowers: giant thistles, sunflowers, hollyhocks,
and scarlet gladioli; making a flowery hedge at the back of each bed; with
marigolds, larkspurs, love-in-a-mist, old man,
sweet-peas, and masses of bloom for which the Three Rs had no name,
filling in the spaces between the hedge and the thick row of pink flowers
which ran along the bed close to the path. This was the
"sea-thrift," from which the cottage had its name, and
this they knew and greeted joyously. Their seriousness vanished as they
stooped down to touch it.
Then they walked up the path to the porch, and here, on the other side
of the flower hedge, was a big lawn for games and sports, and along one
side of the lawn was a row of leafy trees. Beyond the other border of
flowers was a vegetable garden, stocked with vegetables and fruits, and in
the middle of this was a well. To the well they, of course, rushed, and
were much disappointed to find its lid securely fastened.
"Why, where is the bucket," exclaimed Roger, "and the
rope, and pulley? Why, it isn't a proper well after all."
"It dried up," said a voice from the cottage; "it is a
deep pit now. We had the lid fastened because we didn't want anyone
to tumble in: it is very very deep."
"Oh! what a pity," came in chorus from the well.
"I can't agree with you," answered the voice.
"But come in now, tea is ready; you have not seen the inside of your
house."
Roger and Rachael ran in to make further discoveries, but Ruby lingered
thoughtfully beside the well. She stood so long and so quietly beside it,
that a robin flew from the ivy on the wall and perched upon the bar, from
which the bucket should have been hanging, and began to sing. He looked at
Ruby, as though he expected her to understand what he was saying.
"You are a little dear," she said gently; "but what
is the use of a well that has no water in it and doesn't
work?"
The robin stopped singing and put his head on one side.
"Of course, you don't know," she laughed,
"and if you did you couldn't tell me; but I can't think
of anything else to say to you."
Ruby always talked to the creatures with whom she came in contact, and
she held out her hand to the robin, expecting him to come and be stroked
like her pets at home; but he made no more advances. He was offended,
perhaps, at having his ignorance so quickly taken for granted. Whatever may
have been the reason, he suddenly flew off and disappeared among the
bushes.
"Good-bye," called Ruby after him, "I'll
play hide-and-seek with you to-morrow." And she
turned to the house to join the exploring party indoors.
Indoors, there were many things to discover. Though there were but few
rooms in the cottage, there were, in all the rooms, and up the steep little
staircase, the funniest little shelves and cupboards in the world. They
were in all kinds of unexpected places, and it took the children quite a
long time to find them.
From the window at the top of the stairs they looked across a barley
field to the sea. How big and blue and beautiful it was! Far away two or
three ships seemed to be sailing from it into the clouds. The children
stayed at the window a long time, until their father called them into a
room overlooking the garden in front of the cottage.
"There is the ruined Priory."
And there, beyond another barley field, in a great meadow of ripening
wheat, was a pile of old buildings overgrown with ivy. The wheat field was
on rising ground, and at the top of the slope stood the Priory church,
looking down upon the village and over the spreading country around it.
"Is it very old, father?"
"Hundreds of years old. I will tell you all about it one day. How
sweetly that robin sings!"
For Ruby's little friend was again perched on the top of the well,
singing with all his might.
"I think I know all about it now," said Ruby suddenly.
"About which?"
"The well."
"The well!" By this time everyone had forgotten the
well.
"I think the fairies live in it, and the robin knows, and is
trying to tell us about them."
The Three Rs leaned eagerly out of the window to listen more attentively
to the singer, but although they listened patiently for some time none of
them could translate his song.
"Well now," said Roger, as soon as the family was assembled
that morning at breakfast, "let's plan out the day. Directly
we've finished we'll have footer on the lawn, then we'll
bathe and try the boat, then we'll have rounders, then we'll
come up and go for a bicycle ride, and then--well--what shall we
do then, mother? "
"It may, perhaps, be dinner-time by then," suggested
his mother.
"Oh yes, of course." Dinner seemed a remote possibility at
this time of day, and Roger dismissed
the thought of it lightly. "Well, dinner won't take long, and we can go for another ride directly afterwards, and I must get in a second bathe in the afternoon, and we mustn't forget tennis. You'll soon be ready to come down to the sea, won't you, mother?" he continued, still busy with the porridge course.
"There is the housekeeping--" began his mother from
behind the coffee-pot.
"Oh, that won't take more than a minute,"
interrupted the children simultaneously; "we can all help."
"Thank you, dears, very much; but I can't help believing I
shall do it more quickly alone. When you have had your footer you had
better go down to the sea and I will come as soon as I can."
So when breakfast and football were over the children began packing up
for the beach. It was an elaborate packing, there were so many things to
take. First of all there were biscuits and fruit; the fruit had to be first
picked from the garden bushes, and the selection of it, with attendant
discussion, took a long time. Then bathing-dresses and towels had to
be rescued from the depths of unpacked boxes, and books had to be drawn up
through masses of clothes, in case the party should want something to read
if it happened to be resting for a few moments. Then Ruby insisted upon
finding her knitting, and Roger undertook the discovery of the bicycle
foot-pump. Each of these last quests took a long time, and proved so
exhausting, that when, at the end of two hours, the children were
ready to start for the beach, they declared they must be revived by a first lunch before anything more could be done. At last they really were ready, and made a start, and as they reached the gate they discovered their mother had been writing letters for ever so long at the open window.
"The housekeeping is done," she said, smiling.
"But, mother, to-day doesn't count, you know, we had
so much to do. We shall be ready in a few minutes to-morrow. Where
is father?"
"On the beach, waiting."
Then they did all set out for the bathing tent; and in about ten minutes
were standing beside a smooth, blue sea. They were splendid sands which ran
along there below the cliffs; on either hand they stretched as far as the
eye could see. The children looked and laughed for joy.
"We can see the North Pole from here," said Rachael, who had
lately won a prize for geography. "It's over there," she
added, pointing to the horizon.
"What is it like to look at?" asked Ruby severely.
Ruby never could see objects which were pointed out to her in views, and
at home always missed the Crystal Palace in the landscape which was shown
to visitors from the top windows.
"I don't want to see it, thank you," she always said
when they pointed and explained. It tired her to search the distance for
things which could not be properly seen when discovered.
"I do hope we can't see it," she said again a little
anxiously; "but, of course, we can't, except on the
map."
"No; of course we can't really see it,"
interposed Rachael hastily; "but if we could see it
it's nice to know we should see it from here."
"I don't feel sure," said Ruby.
Then Ruby looked thoughtful and turned to Roger; and from her expression
Roger divined she was about to ask him questions concerning the poles and
the equator and the circumference of the earth, so he caught hold of her by
the shoulders and made her run briskly to the tent.
"Be quick and undress, Ruby, you shall make the trial trip in the
boat; there's a treat for you!"
Ruby looked even more thoughtful as she passed Roger's boat, and
saw the gaping cracks in its keel and sides.
The boat was of Roger's unaided manufacture, and, in form,
resembled a washing-tub. It had a stern at each end, and it was
puttied lavishly, and painted all over, though not very evenly, with white
paint.
It was called The Recruit, and its name was printed boldly
in red letters on one of its sterns.
In a few minutes The Recruit was launched by Roger and his
father, and all the family ran to the water's edge and wished it
well.
"You think The Recruit is safe, don't you,
father?" said Ruby as she came up conscientiously for the trial
trip.
"Well, it won't carry you far," he answered, lifting
her in, "but you sha'n't be upset."
"Make way there, heave ahoy!" shouted Roger, giving
The Recruit a mighty shove, and the boat, so it
seemed to Ruby, glided out for yards and yards and yards, into the vast
ocean.
The Recruit was not very comfortable. It heaved over
dreadfully to one side, and each time Ruby moved the water came welling up
through the cracks in the bottom. At last she put her hands nervously to
the sides and tried to turn it round.
"Quite safe, Ruby; we're all here. Don't get out;
we'll hold it up till you're in your depth again." And
Roger, Rachael, and her father laid hold of The Recruit and
swam with it to the shore.
"We were close all the time," said Roger; "but I
thought she would have floated better than that!" Roger was a little
depressed; he had spent so many half-holidays, and worked so hard,
in making his boat.
"So did I," said Ruby as she stepped out of it; "but I
did enjoy some of it," she added as she noticed Roger's
disappointment. "I really did enjoy some of it, and perhaps she will
go better next time. You won't mind if I like an ordinary bathe best,
will you?"
"Not a bit," cried Roger, cheering up. "Come along and
let's have an ordinary bathe."
And he picked up the football, which had accompanied them to the beach,
and threw it at Rachael. Rachael caught hold of it and swam with it to
their father; then their father threw it to Ruby, who missed it; and
finally their mother caught it and swam away with it, pursued by all the
others.
"It isn't quite like ordinary bathing," said Ruby, as
she scrambled up after being knocked down for the third time by Roger,
Rachael, and the ball; and Roger, to make amends, begged her to let him
swim with her on his back, and tried to persuade her to sit on the ball and
be pushed into really deep water; then he implored her to try diving from
his shoulder, until at last their mother took Ruby away and gave her a
swimming lesson in a quiet pool by herself.
A little later in the morning, as the children sat in the sun drying
their hair and enjoying a second luncheon, they observed The
Recruit beginning to float out to sea uncommanded, and Roger, of
course, had to dash to its rescue and drag it up the beach above
high-water mark.
"I can't help thinking," said his mother as she looked
at it critically, "The Recruit would make an excellent
wheelbarrow. We badly need a wheelbarrow for the garden."
"O mother! It's such a beautiful boat." The children
were shocked at the idea of such abasement for Roger's handiwork.
Even Ruby, who had so nobly proved its un-seaworthiness, defended
its present profession.
"Oh no, mother! Not a wheelbarrow! Perhaps when
it's more accustomed to the water, and has more putty in the
cracks," she added hopefully, "it will be all right, and, you
see, we shall never want to go far in it."
"That will be wise," said their mother, smiling.
"You won't have anything done to it, will
you?" implored Rachael.
"No, certainly not; but I can't help thinking, as I sit here
and look at it, what a nice, useful wheelbarrow it would
make."
"Then please, mother, don't look at it," cried Roger;
"it makes me anxious--you seem to be dooming it."
"Well, I'll try not to look at it," laughed his
mother; "but such an object--"
The children rushed at her in a body and prevented the sentence from
being finished. Then they ran to the threatened Recruit and
laboriously buried it in the sand, lest their mother's thought should
develop into a determined plan for its transformation.
When this was over they began "rounders," according to the
morning's programme; and they played, and they played, and they
played, until Ruby sat down beside the tent and said she was too tired to
move any more.
"We must put off the ride, I'm afraid, till after
dinner," said Roger, sitting beside Ruby and gasping for breath.
"It is dinner-time now." Their mother looked at her
watch and rose hastily, and in a few minutes they were all clambering up
the cliff to the loke, leading to Sea-thrift, Ruby seated on her
father's shoulder.
A "loke" in the land of Sea-thrift is the name given
to a roadway which is too narrow to be a proper road, and too wide to be a
proper lane; it has no footpath, and it has hedges on either side, with
cottages at irregular distances.
As the children came to it they looked up the flag-staff which
stood at the head of the sandy slope, and there, perched on the very top,
was a robin, and his red breast shone brightly against the blue sky.
"It is our robin," said Ruby, from her father's
shoulder.
"He quite dogs our steps," said Roger.
"He isn't singing," said Rachael.
"Perhaps he's just had his dinner,"
suggested Roger; "one can't sing immediately after a
meal."
But as he spoke the robin began to sing as sweetly as he had sung in the
garden the day before.
"He's telling us something very important," said Ruby
drowsily from her father's shoulder.
"Is he? then I wish we could understand," began Roger;
"but see--who are they?" as two grown-up figures
stepped through a gap in the hedge--"they are Ethel and Charlie.
No! Yes!" And Roger and Rachael ran excitedly towards them.
"Where have you come from? Are you staying here? Are you going to
stay long? Do stay a nice long time! Isn't it jolly?
We've got a boat--Roger made it--but you can't stay
in it for long. Ruby made the trial trip: Ruby's very tired, so
father's carrying her."
All the news of the morning was poured into Ethel and Charlie's
ears before they met the rest of the party.
"I'm so sorry I'm tired," said Ruby, as she
kissed them.
"Oh, don't mind being tired," laughed Charlie,
"that's soon cured; I expect you want your dinner."
But when they reached Sea-thrift Ruby couldn't sit up to
dinner. She lay, instead, in her own little room and looked at the yellow
wheat and ruined Priory, while the others had their meal; and after dinner
her mother thought her so poorly that she undressed her and put her to
bed.
Roger and Rachael were greatly troubled and disappointed, and, after
some debate as to what they could
do for Ruby, decided to pay a long call on Ethel and Charlie, whose lodgings were near by, and to come back every now and then to see if she were better. They were sure she would be better by tea-time.
But little Ruby grew worse and worse as the day went on.
It was a beautifully sunny morning, and the sea was as smooth as it had
been yesterday, so they hastened back to Sea-thrift and filled a
basket with tennis balls. Then they went back to Ethel and Charlie's
lodgings, and, the curtains being still drawn, Rachael threw one of the
balls at the window; but the ball merely shook the curtain gently and
tumbled into the jasmine, so she threw another, which bounced off again
from the window-sill and lodged on the top of the porch.
"Let me have a shy," said Roger, and he shied furiously. His
first ball went over the house into the
potato patch behind, but his second and his third ball dashed in boldly through the curtains.
"That wasn't a bad shot," he whispered to Rachael, as
the sound of shattered glass fell upon their ears.
"No, it wasn't," she answered; "I'm afraid
they are chimney ornaments."
Notwithstanding the three balls and their evident effect upon some
object, or objects, unknown, no sign came from the window.
"Perhaps they've gone for a walk," suggested
Rachael.
"Perhaps they have." Roger looked at his watch, but his
watch had stopped, so he swung it round and round violently by its
chain.
"I can't imagine what's come to it," he
exclaimed; "it won't go at all unless I shake it like this, and
then it only goes for a few minutes."
He looked at his timepiece critically, then he thrust it into his pocket
with a gesture of despair.
"Well, let us come and find father." So they turned homeward
again to see if anything could be done with their father, with regard to a
bathe: but when they reached their own gate their father was starting
off for the doctor.
"Ruby is worse," he said; "I'm going to find
that white-haired old man who believes in fairies."
"Poor little Ruby! what a pity! and it's going to be such a
lovely day!" Rachael lifted up her face to the blue sky, and her
curls shone like burnished copper.
For a few minutes the children stood silent with
disappointment--they had been so sure Ruby would be well
to-day--then they turned and walked back to Ethel and
Charlie's.
This time the curtains were drawn back, and Ethel's face appeared
at the window.
"Good morning, Roger, good morning, Rachael; thank you for the
balls."
"I'm so sorry, I'm afraid I've broken
something," apologised Roger; "I do hope it doesn't
matter very much."
"We shall hear what our landlady thinks."
"What was it?"
"It was a large owl, made of green glass, and he had
a piece of blue ribbon tied in a bow round his neck, and he had a candle
growing out of the top of his head."
"Poor thing," said Rachael, who had a passion for creatures
of every kind and of all degree. "How tired of holding it he must
have been."
"Well, he won't have to hold it any more. How is
Ruby?"
"She isn't so well; father has just gone for the
doctor."
"Poor little Ruby."
The children looked downcast for some time, and the conversation flagged
until Charlie came running out with towels over his shoulder, then their
spirits rose with a bound.
"Oh, is there time for a bathe?"
"Of course there is. When did you get up?"
"I don't know--exactly--my watch isn't going
properly just now. I got up as soon as I woke, and called
Rachael."
"Well, come along and let us see how far Rachael can
swim."
So they ran down to the beach with Charlie.
Charlie was a painter, and Ethel was his wife. The Three R's had
often wished for definite information about Charlie's profession, and
this morning seemed to them an excellent opportunity for beginning his
examination.
"I am going to be an artist," said Rachael suddenly, when a
little later she was swimming along beside him. "Roger is going to be
a millionaire; but I don't want many different kinds of things when I
grow up, I only want to keep a few animals."
"What is Roger going to do to become a millionaire?" asked
Charlie.
"Oh, he isn't going to do anything; he is going
to be one right off."
"And are you going to be an artist 'right
off'?"
"I'm afraid one can't be, there is so much to learn;
there is a great deal to learn, I suppose?" she added,
hoping for contradiction.
But Charlie was swimming out farther than she cared to follow, so
Rachael reserved further questioning for the dry land.
"When did you begin to draw?" she asked, when,
by-and-by, they were all toiling up the cliff to the
lake.
"As long ago as I can remember."
"Did they make you draw wooden blocks, and cups, and jugs, and
ornaments and things, and teach you perspective? We have done all the
ornaments all over the house at home, and all the jugs in the kitchen, and
oh, such a lot of candlesticks! Did you do candlesticks?"
"Oh yes; I did all that kind of thing."
"Did you like it?"
"Not much."
"What did you like best?"
"I liked doing things out-of-doors best."
"Yes, that is what I like," said Rachael approvingly;
"father has given us all sketch-books, and Ruby and I are
going to fill ours these holidays."
"I expect the sea is jolly difficult to paint, isn't
it?" said Roger.
"It is."
"It must be awfully hard to get the right colours."
"It is."
"Now what could you mix together to get
that?"
Rachael made them stop and look back at the sea. From where they were
standing the water was clear grey along the edge of the sand; then, a
little beyond, it was pale blue; farther off it was a beautiful transparent
green; and farther out still it was a deep sapphire.
"I should have to think it over," said Charlie, "and
then, after all my thinking, I shouldn't paint anything like
it."
"But it would be like enough to remind us of it," said
Rachael encouragingly; "when I haven't my little
Winky with me I always look at the picture of a kitten in my animal book."
"Let's have a run," exclaimed Roger, hastily turning
the conversation from Winky, knowing from experience how long the subject
was likely to last. So they chased Charlie home to his breakfast, and then
hastened along to their own.
After breakfast, at Sea-thrift, the white-haired doctor
drove up to see Ruby.
"Well," he said, as he sat down by her bed, "is this
the way to see fairies?"
Ruby was a polite little girl, and didn't feel able to begin a
conversation in the middle like that, so she said: "How do you
do?" and held out her hand.
"Thank you, I am very well, and I want to know what you have done
to get ill so soon."
"I don't know," said Ruby; "but I am not going
to be really ill, am I? Shall I have to stay in bed?"
"I am afraid so."
"But not for long?"
"For some time, I think," said the doctor, as he examined
her.
"Oh dear!" Ruby was dreadfully disappointed, and, in spite
of all her efforts to keep them back, tears filled her eyes; but she
struggled bravely, and did not let them fall.
"You are a good child," said the doctor, holding her small
hot hand in his big cool one. "There is a kind little neighbour
already trying to cheer you," he said, as, through the open window,
they heard the robin singing from his perch on the well.
"Yes; isn't he a little dear? He hopped on to the
window-sill this morning."
"Perhaps he has something to tell you! Well, good-bye, I
shall come again to-morrow, and then you may be able to tell me the
secret."
"What secret?" asked Ruby.
"The robin's. I expect he has one, don't
you?"
"Yes, perhaps," answered Ruby, smiling; but, when the door
closed on the kind white-haired doctor, she turned her aching head
away from the window. "I can't look any more, mother, it hurts
my eyes."
And her mother drew the curtains and sat down beside her and soothed her
to sleep.
"Poor little thing," she said, "she has had no sleep
all night."
And then Ruby's mother lay down upon the other little bed and went
to sleep too.
Ruby slept a long while. When she awoke the sun shone more brightly than
ever, the room was full of beautiful warm air, and the scent of roses and
jasmine reached her from the garden. Her mother was still asleep, and Ruby
turned towards the window very gently lest she should wake her.
She lay still and listened to the birds in the creepers. There were
several nests outside the window, and their owners just now seemed very
busy. By-and-by her curtains began to stir, and suddenly a
little shadow fell upon it. A bird had hopped on to the lowered
window-sash, and presently began to sing: Ruby knew at once
what bird it was.
"How kind of you to come so near," she said softly.
"Do you like my song?" asked the Robin.
Ruby, of course, ought to have been surprised by his sudden speech, but
it seemed, just then, quite natural and usual.
"I like it very much, thank you," she answered.
"But you don't understand what I say?"
"No, I don't--at least--I think I know in a
kind of a way what you are singing about, but, of course, I
can understand better when you really speak."
"Well, if you like, I will come sometimes and talk to you while
you are in bed. You are going to be in bed a long time."
"Oh, am I?"
"Yes; but you are going to be very good and cheerful. I can tell
you many interesting things if you like to listen to them, and perhaps show
you some," he added.
"Thank you very much--but--how long will it
be?"
"How long will what be?"
"My staying in bed."
"Oh--I don't know exactly--it really doesn't
matter--you will be so busy when you have once met--I mean when
you know all I can tell you."
"I don't quite see how I can be busy lying here," said
Ruby questioningly.
The robin pushed his head between the curtains.
"Being in bed makes no difference, She doesn't
mind--"
But just then Ruby's mother stirred and woke, and the robin
withdrew his head and flew away.
"Have you had a nice sleep, my darling?" she said as she
arose. "Ah, I see you have. I have been having such a sweet dream,
and in my dream you were dreaming sweetly too."
"O Ruby," said Rachael, as she followed the
tray into the long-prohibited room, "it is nice you are better, you will soon be quite strong now, and oh, there is so much to tell you I don't know how to begin!"
"Begin in the middle," said Ruby, smiling.
"Well, we've bathed twice nearly every day, and I can swim
ever so far; and I've made friends with the three setters at the big
red house and with the greyhound from the post office; and the piebald
mongrel at the bicycle shop is friendly too. Ethel and Charlie have taken
us for such lovely picnics! One day we went on the river and brought back
some water lilies: you must come there when you are up.
Hasn't it been dreadfully dull lying here?"
"I don't think I've been dull," began Ruby
reflectively.
"Well, never mind now," interrupted Rachael.
"You'll soon be well, and we'll do everything all over
again."
Then Rachael gave Ruby her tea, and waited upon her very carefully and
gently.
"How cosy it is," she said when they had finished, and she
had put the tray on one side and settled down at the foot of Ruby's
bed, and begun the history of a Persian kitten which lived at one of the
coastguard cottages. In the middle of the story, however, she remembered
that her mother had cautioned her against too much talking.
"Am I tiring you?" she asked anxiously, breaking off in the
middle of an exciting adventure of the Persian mother cat with the farm
donkey.
"Oh no; do go on."
So Rachael finished her story and then opened a book she had brought
with her.
"I'll read to you now; it will be quieter."
"Thank you very much. What are you going to read?"
"I thought of reading a story about a horse, from my animal book,
it's so exciting."
And from her animal book Rachael read stories of horses, and of lions,
and of tigers, and of polar bears, and of duck-bills, and of
creatures which lived before the flood, until she couldn't see to
read any more.
"Isn't it awfully interesting?" she exclaimed, as she
closed the book. "I should like to see all those creatures;
shouldn't you?"
But by this time Ruby was asleep, and Rachael, with a mixed feeling of
disappointment and satisfaction, crept downstairs to tell her mother that
she thought Ruby had settled down for the night, as, indeed, was the
case.
Ruby had great arrears to make up in the matter of sleep, and
to-night her rest was deeper and more peaceful than it had been
since her illness.
"I don't think tales of lions and tigers would make
me sleep like that," said Roger, as he stepped in gently
to wish her good-night. " It must have been the sound of your
voice, Rachael. I've often noticed--" And then Roger
quietly and quickly disappeared, with Rachael in pursuit.
The next morning Ruby awoke very early and watched the sunlight shining
in through the window.
She had been too ill until now to notice sunlight or shadow; but to-day she woke feeling quite gay, and bright, with all the tiredness and headache gone.
"I wish the robin would come," she thought, and, before her
thought was finished, she heard him singing outside her window. She
listened eagerly: he was singing words:
"Wake, wake, Ruby,
wake,
There is so much to see,
You've a
journey to take,
And quite safe you shall
be.
Wake, wake, and listen to all I am singing,
And learn what
the dawn and the sunlight are bringing.
The
sun has just climbed
From the sea to the
sky,
And my first song was rhymed
When the
night clouds passed by.
Wake, wake, and listen to all I am
singing,
And learn what the dawn and the sunlight are
bringing."
Ruby crept softly from her bed.
"Come, learn what the dawn and the sunlight are bringing,"
repeated the robin, before she could get to the window.
"Yes, yes; I am coming," said Ruby, pushing her head between
the curtains, "but I must put on my dressing-gown and
slippers."
"Why?" asked the robin, and he fluttered his wings
impatiently.
"Because mother says I must, in the early morning.
I always do so at home when I sit up in bed to have a biscuit or banana."
"I see," said the robin.
"But he can't see," thought Ruby, looking at the drawn
curtains as she buttoned up her dressing-gown.
"Oh yes, I can," repeated the robin in answer to her
thought. "You are fastening the last button but two, and you are not
being nearly quick enough."
Ruby bustled through the rest of her early morning toilet, and began to
spread her bedclothes over the chairs, as she had been taught to do on
rising.
"Why do you do that?" called the robin. "You will be
back before anyone is awake. Come, be quick; the window is open wide; step
on to the sill."
So Ruby stepped through the curtains and over the low window-sash
on to the sill.
"Now," said the robin, "put one hand on my back,
stretch the other arm out on the air, and fly along with me."
"But," began Ruby anxiously, "I have never
learned--"
"Very likely not," interrupted the robin. "But it is
wise to learn something new whenever one has the chance. We are not going
far this time."
"I'm glad of that," answered Ruby, in a tone of relief
"How far are we going?"
"As far as the well."
"Our well?"
"Your well."
Ruby was greatly disappointed and about to remonstrate, but the robin
suddenly said:
"Are you ready? Go--"
And in a moment she had dived through the air and was standing beside
the well, and saw the robin perched in his accustomed place over it.
"It wasn't difficult, was it?" he said, turning his
bright eyes upon her.
"Oh no; very easy. I should like to try a long
distance."
"You shall some time, but we have something more important to do
just now." He tapped with his beak on the big lid.
When he had tapped three times the lid began to lift slowly, up and up,
until it stood upright on the edge of the well, then it fell lightly over
into the currant bushes.
"Here She is," said the robin; and up from the darkness came
a wonderful figure, who stepped out and stood beside Ruby. She was tall and
strong, and her face was so sweet and beautiful, Ruby thought, as she
raised her eyes, that here was the most beloved of all the spirits of the
earth. Her hair was the colour of ripened wheat, and it was wound in great
yellow plaits around her head, and in it were bunches of scarlet poppies;
her eyes were clear and deep and blue, like the sky on a summer day. Soft
green raiment hung about her in deep folds, and between the folds the sun
shone and sparkled on embroideries of flowers, and patterns set in precious
stones: while butterflies, more bright than Ruby had ever seen, made
a rainbow cloud about her feet. Ruby looked up at the beautiful lady and
smiled.
"I am not a stranger, then?" said the lady, smiling in
return.
"No; I seem to know you quite well." As she spoke Ruby put
her hand into the kind hand beside her. "But I have never seen you
before," she went on. "I wonder--"
"Do not wonder about it, we are friends now--that is better
than wondering. I watched you while you were ill; did you sometimes have
pleasant dreams?"
"Oh! beautiful dreams--dreams about the fields and the lanes,
and the wind and the sea. Oh yes; I can remember them all now. Do you know
about them?"
"Yes; I know about them."
"Did you give me the dreams?"
"Yes. Ruby, look--"
And the beautiful lady held out both her arms, and, as her cloak spread
open in the sunshine, Ruby saw wonderful pictures painted upon
it--pictures which changed as she looked at them, and moved over the
mantle as lightly as clouds over the sky.
"When will they come to an end?" asked Ruby, as she watched
them.
"When my mantle is worn out." And the beautiful lady let the
heavy folds fall once more about her.
"That will not be for a long time," said Ruby, gently
touching its jewelled edge.
"Not for a long long time--not for a longer time than you,
little Ruby, can think of or imagine." As she spoke the beautiful
lady looked on the sweet summer land around her, and across the fields to
the blue sea,
and upwards at the morning sky, and as she looked she smiled lovingly. Then she bent down and looked earnestly at Ruby.
"Can you trust me?" she whispered; "are you sure you
are in no way afraid of me? "
"Quite sure" answered Ruby, laughing; "why should I be
afraid? You have been so kind to me."
"That is well. I shall be able to show you some of my secrets. I
cannot show them to people who are afraid." Then she wrapped her
mantle about Ruby and lifted her in her arms.
"Now," she said, "you shall know what is down the
well. You have been wanting very much to know?"
"Very much."
Then the beautiful lady stepped back into the well, and Ruby heard the
lid close upon them as they began their descent. She thought there must be
darkness now the sky was hidden, but all about her was a warm, clear light;
she could see distinctly, and felt safe in the strong arms which bore her
down, down, she knew not to what depths.
They had descended some distance in silence when the beautiful lady
pointed to the sides of the well.
"These are my sick children," she said.
Ruby perceived that all around them were banks of flowers; not healthy,
full-grown flowers, like those in the lanes above, but delicate
fragile blossoms of the same kind.
"I keep them here until they are strong enough to bear the night
winds and the rains, then I send them back to the sunlight." She
touched the flowers with her
fingers as she passed, and as she did so the air became full of fragrance.
Then the banks grew green with ferns that shone and glistened with
raindrops, and the scent of the wet ferny earth was sweeter than the
flowers. Still they sank lower and lower.
"How deep it is," said Ruby.
"Yes; and we have not come to our journey's end."
Then all about them Ruby saw the roots of trees, like a mighty wall.
Oak, elm, ash, sycamore, birch, poplar, and fir; all the trees she had ever
seen had their roots here, and from their roots she was able to name them.
Then deeper than the tree roots came piles of precious
stones--diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires, amethysts--and
they lay as piles of stones lie upon the roads in repairing times.
"They are dreadfully precious," said Ruby, remembering the
care with which her mother made her store her little jewels, in her
trinket-box, at home.
"Not so precious as these." And Ruby knew that they had
stopped; she was being freed from the kind arms.
"These are most precious of all."
Ruby looked round her. On either hand, as far as she could see,
stretching away along paths on every side, and rising upwards and lost in
the height above her, were walls and walls of seed; they were so
marvellously made, she knew that not the smallest seed of them all could be
taken from its place, without disturbing the entire structure.
"What are they?" asked the beautiful lady.
"The seeds of all the earth," answered Ruby readily. Her
mind seemed suddenly clear and strong, and she felt she was going to
understand some of the great secrets about which she had so often asked in
vain.
"Yes; the seeds of all the earth." The beautiful lady bent
down and kissed Ruby on the forehead as she repeated her words, and as she
did so the words were sung by a chorus of sweet voices:
"The seeds of all the earth, that all,
Both strong and
great and weak and small,
May flower and flourish, fade, and
fall."
"And now Ruby must go home."
"Not yet--please--not yet!"
But, as she petitioned, Ruby's eyes closed, and she felt
numberless little arms tighten about her. When she opened her eyes again
she was in her own little bed, with her mother standing beside her.
"What is it, my darling? You called me; you have been
dreaming."
"Have I, mother? But I do not think it was a dream." Ruby
sat up and looked about her. "Is it getting-up time
now?"
"Yes."
Ruby's mother drew back the curtains and the full morning sun
shone in upon them. As her hand touched the curtain, a group of dancing
shadows passed across it and disappeared, and through the window with the
sunshine came another verse of the song.
"That every valley, plain, and hill,
Their faithful
promise may fulfil,
And all Her ways, by land and sea,
Be fair
and sweet for you and me."
"Do you hear the singing, mother?"
"Yes; it is very kind of your little robin to sing as soon as we
wake; we must give him some breakfast."
"Are you ready for another lesson in flying?" he asked
through the curtain.
"Oh yes, please! I will be ever so quick." Ruby bustled into
her dressing-gown and slippers with extraordinary speed.
"Would you like to see the fairy of the well again?"
"Oh yes; is that her name? "
"She has many names; that is one of them. She is waiting for us.
Put your hand on me, spread out both arms, and fly."
And Ruby put her fingers on the robin's back, and threw herself on
the fresh morning air. She sank into it as gently as she slipped into the
sea when she bathed, and floated through it much more easily. She never
thought of asking the robin not to go too quickly, or too
far, or too anything, his little feathery back gave her all the support she needed. They flew much farther than the well this time.
"How beautiful it is," cried Ruby, "and how easy.
Look, look, I should like to fly like that," she went on delightedly,
as a lark fluttered from the grass beneath them and flew straight up into
the sky.
"One must not want to do everything--"
began the robin reprovingly.
"Of course not," interrupted Ruby hastily; "you are
not disappointed, are you? I am enjoying this so much; oh, I do hope you
are not disappointed. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever
done."
"That's right," said the robin cheerfully again.
"You see, I can't go up like that myself. Now shut your eyes,
and don't open them till I tell you."
Ruby closed her eyes obediently, and everything grew suddenly dark and
still, and she felt herself flying
down-wards--down--down--down--farther down than
the seed land at the bottom of the well.
"Open."
It was not the robin who spoke but the beautiful lady; and when Ruby
opened her eyes she found herself standing beside Her in a wonderful
garden--in a garden of magical flowers and perfumes--and playing
in and out among the trees were groups of fairies. Ruby knew at once they
were fairies, by their small stature, by their coats and caps of
beetles' wings, by the dew which dropped from their feet as they
danced, and by their cloaks of floating, shining gossamer.
"Are you ready to try the golden gate?" she asked, smiling
at Ruby.
She was more beautiful, and her trailing skirts more splendid, than
yesterday.
"The golden gate! I do not understand," said Ruby. And for
answer the beautiful lady took her by the hand and led her into a wide
avenue of blossoming trees; as they walked along it, fairies from all parts
of the garden came and formed a shining procession behind them.
"While we are young," said the beautiful lady, "we
should learn which gates are open to us, and which gates are closed against
us, it saves our strength and tears when we are old. There are many
gates," she continued, as Ruby looked up in surprise. "One
person can open but a few of them; and, as some are better worth opening
than others, I want you to try to open one which I consider the best of
all. If you succeed, I shall no longer have a doubt concerning you; you
will be safe and happy in whatever strange and barren land you may abide.
But if you cannot open it easily, do not try; trying, in this case, will be
useless."
As she spoke they came to a bend in the path, and there, just in front
of them, Ruby beheld a great gate of gold. Its height was so vast she could
not see the top, and it hung upon mighty crystal hinges, which shone like
the sun, and its width was more than a dozen Rubys could have compassed.
All over it were pictures beaten in gold, and she perceived that
none of the pictures were finished. Each was the beginning of a wonderful story, which became, as soon as she read it, the beginning of another story, which in its turn gave place to another; and so on, all over the great gate, as far as she could see. Ruby turned to her guide in disappointment.
"They are finished inside," said the beautiful lady;
"come, try to open it."
Ruby put her little hand upon the gate. It had no handle or fastening,
so she placed one finger on the petal of a buttercup, in a buttercup border
that was worked round one of the panels, and the procession of fairies
crowded closely round her, peeping eagerly over her shoulders.
"One, two, three," they sang. And Ruby turned and
smiled--she felt sure of opening the gate.
"One, two, three," they sang again. And Ruby laughed for
joy--the great gate swung back to the first pressure of her finger.
Then the fairies clapped their hands, and threw their shining caps into the
air, and danced round her so wildly, she could not see what glories were
disclosed.
"She can open the gate,
All our treasure can
see;
All the wealth she can take,
From the land and the
sea:
She can learn all the wonder of days long ago,
She
can hear every story and song that we know."
"Please let me see," she said, but for answer the
fairies danced round her, until she was obliged to take hands and dance with them. So fast they danced, she could not see the gate for the shimmer and flutter of gossamer.
"Please--please," she began again, but they only danced
more wildly than before.
"Oh, very well," she gasped at length, "I'll
dance as long as you like, and go there afterwards." Then all the
fairies ceased dancing and began to laugh.
"Why do you laugh?" asked Ruby, a little offended, for she
had made a great effort to oblige them.
"Don't you see?" they cried, as they began dancing
once more; "don't you see? "
"Do tell me what you mean," said Ruby, quite
provoked.
"Don't you see you are there?" And the
fairies clapped their hands and danced away, one by one, until Ruby stood
alone and heard the shower of silvery laughter pass into the distance.
"There!"
Ruby looked about for the golden gate, but the golden gate was nowhere
to be seen. The beautiful lady had disappeared, and Ruby stood alone in a
world of blue. Above her head, beneath her feet, and on either hand, as far
as she could see, a clear blue mist lay over a great country, in which no
outline of mountain, or tree, or building, told what manner of country it
was. She was a little afraid, and wished the fairies would come back. As
she wished she felt
a strong hand take hers, and the voice of the beautiful lady whispered in her ear:
"You are safe, Ruby; I am beside you."
"But I cannot see you."
"I am beside you none the less." And at the sound of the
familiar voice Ruby's heart grew strong again.
"What would you like to see?" the voice continued.
"You can go where you will. Shall we fly upwards, above the clouds,
to the distant stars, and follow the planets in their courses round the
sun; or shall we dive through forests of seaweed, into the cold still
waters, that lie hundreds of fathoms deeper than the sun can send his rays?
Or shall we turn to some bygone age which has passed away into the shadows,
and travel backward through time, and see it truly?"
Ruby looked across the vast expanse before her to the farthest haze of
blue; then she looked into the blue at her feet, and, as she gazed into its
depths, it grew like the summer sea, bluer and bluer and more shining,
until the sunny ripples broke over her feet.
"We will dive into the sea." Ruby spoke now as one in
command. "We will dive into the still waters, and see the creatures
that live beneath the sea forests."
Then the waves broke over her ankles and reached her knees, then they
splashed against her shoulders, and sparkled over her head: and all
the time a kind hand held hers firmly.
"How lovely, how lovely," she cried; "I have been
thinking about the sea, and longing so much to be in it. Are we far from
shore?"
"A hundred miles from shore," answered the voice, as Ruby
slipped through the water; "a hundred miles from shore, in the sea
valleys where the herrings hide."
And Ruby saw she was in a mighty forest of seaweed, of beautiful
colours, and about her were wonderful sea animals, sponges,
star-fish, sea-snails, and urchins, and hundreds of creatures
she had never seen before: and rising and falling, at a short
distance from her, was the great herring army, hundreds of millions in
number, waiting in the shadows till night and darkness should come and help
it to swim away unseen.
"Now deeper than the seaweeds," said the voice. And the
water grew colder and colder, until it was icy cold; and deeper and deeper
they went, till the movement of the waves ceased, and the waters grew still
and dark, so dark that Ruby could not see.
"Down, down, three hundred fathoms down: it is a deep bathe,
Ruby."
Then out of the darkness came strange fish, which swam about her, each
creature carrying his own lamp. One held it on his head, another carried
several along his sides, and another one's body shone all over, so
that the darkness was illumined, and she could see the fashion of this
silent world. How vast a world it was, so far away from the fresh air and
the sunlight. She looked through miles and miles of dark waters, and on
every side the darkness was made visible by gliding, shining fish. She was
suddenly oppressed by the great silence.
"Nearer to the surface," she said; and immediately the hand
which held hers tightened its grasp, and she
felt herself rising upwards through the water. Upwards and upwards, until it grew warmer, and she saw seaweeds stirring in the waves; and up and up, until she came to the urchins and sea snails, to the feather stars and bright-coloured sponges.
"Up and up," she said again, for she began to long greatly
for the whole warmth of the sunshine. "Up, quite up to the
top." The strong hand answered at once to her words, and she was
floating on the top of the water close to her own shore, with the warm sun
shining upon her.
"Now, little Ruby, I must bid you good-bye." The
beautiful lady took shape and floated beside her. "You can open the
gate; you have but to tell me your wish and you shall see--"
"Everything! oh, everything!" cried Ruby, as the beautiful
lady paused.
"No; not everything yet, but perhaps everything
by-and-by, if you do not let the crystal hinges grow stiff
from want of use. But the sun mounts high; shut your eyes,
Ruby--Ruby--Ruby--"
And when Ruby opened them again she was in her own cosy bed, and her
mother was standing beside her.
"O mother, so much has happened!"
"In your dreams, dear?"
"No; in the early morning, mother, while you were
sleeping."
But her mother kissed her and smoothed her hair from her brow.
"Wake up, little Ruby, it is breakfast-time," she
said, as she drew back the curtains from Ruby's window.
Ruby had never enjoyed being up and dressed as she enjoyed it the first
morning she came downstairs, to breakfast, after her illness. It was so
comfortable to be wearing her frock again, so nice to have her hair tied up
quite properly with her best ribbon, so pleasant to see everything in the
little sitting-room.
"O Ruby, we've made heaps of friends. The
coast-guards are jolly--we know them all--they have told
us a lot about the coast, and wrecks, and being at sea, and we have wished
all the time you could hear it, but we'll tell you all we
remember."
It was afternoon, and Roger and Rachael were in the garden talking to
Ruby through the window.
"But I haven't been a bit dull," cried Ruby. "I
have a great deal to tell you too; so much has happened."
"I think I know what has happened most often," said Roger,
laughing, "but it sha'n't happen any more." And he
left the window abruptly and rushed upstairs, pursued, immediately, by
Rachael.
Ruby wondered what their sudden departure portended, and when she heard
them in her room overhead, laughing and talking excitedly, she wondered
still more. Suddenly she heard a tremendous thump on the floor--Roger
was evidently doing a high jump: then he jumped again, and again, and
again, and again. It was impossible to sit quietly there under such a
commotion. She crept upstairs and opened her bedroom door to see the fun.
In the middle of the room she beheld all her medicine bottles arranged in a
large circle. There were a great many--it gave her quite a pang to see
how many she had emptied--and in the middle of the circle
stood Roger waving the thermometer round his head.
Ruby was alarmed; she had come to regard the thermometer with respectful
awe, it had ruled her life for so long. It was an object, she thought, with
which it would not be wise to take a liberty. It had, she felt, her future
health in its keeping, and if an accident befell it she herself must have a
relapse.
"Roger, Roger!" she cried anxiously, as Roger continued his
triumphant dance among the medicine bottles, and Rachael skipped around
him.
"Children, children, what is the matter?"
"It's all right, mother, we're only bringing the
thermometer down a bit. You said it had kept up in a provoking way;
I'm giving it a lesson." Roger waved the instrument around him,
and jumped about so violently that it slipped, at last, from his fingers
and lay in several pieces on the floor.
"O mother, what shall we do?"
"You'll do much better without it," said the
doctor's familiar voice, as he came into the room. "I'm
glad Roger has been so high-handed with it, it has had its day. They
have been having a fine time while you have been in bed," he
continued, smiling at Roger and Rachael.
"Yes; but I have been doing nice things too."
"Have you? When?"
"In the early mornings, when mother was asleep."
"And Ruby dreaming?"
"No; I don't think I was dreaming. Is it true," she
went on, as the doctor took her upon his knee, "that we are always
trying to open gates?"
"Some of us are always trying, but it is of no use, I am afraid,
unless we try when we are young."
"What is the most important gate of all?"
"Opinions differ."
"There is a great one made of gold that hangs on crystal
hinges," said Ruby thoughtfully, "and all over it are wonderful
pictures, which change as you look at them, and when you open that gate you
see at first--" She stopped, and looked troubled. "Oh
dear--I am so sorry--I cannot remember--but do you know its
name?"
"There are many gates," said the doctor, smiling at her
tenderly, "very many; and each gate has many names, but their names
do not matter. I think that when your golden gate swings open on its
crystal hinges, and you pass through, you can see and understand
everything."
"Not everything," said Ruby, remembering the beautiful
lady's words.
"Not everything," repeated the doctor thoughtfully,
"but nearly everything. Some of the gates open into the past, some
into the future; those which lead us to the past show us the great events
of the world as they happened, and then we know and understand
them as we could never know or understand them from books."
"I shall be a historian," said Roger, as the doctor paused;
"history is awfully fine. Which gate would you like to open,
Rachael?"
Rachael hesitated. After some deliberation she said:
"I should like to open one that would show me all the animals in
the world, and all that have ever lived."
"Oh!" cried Roger, "what a crowd there would be; you
couldn't see them all."
"They might pass in a procession," said Rachael.
"Imagine an enormous procession, headed by--by--"
"The great Eft," suggested the doctor, "followed by
creatures standing thirty feet high without their socks, pawing the air
with their legs, and gnashing teeth in heads five feet long."
"I am sure I should be pleased to see them," said Rachael
politely.
"But scarcely to tea," added her mother, as the gong
sounded: and the doctor's talk turned from "gates"
to directions concerning Ruby's daily life.
"Do not trouble your little head about the gate of gold," he
said, as he bade her good-bye in the garden. "Let the dreams
come and go--or the fairies come and go--we shall understand
everything one day if we are patient."
"The doctor believes in fairies," said Rachael, when Ethel
and Charlie came in and they sat down to tea.
"Perhaps we all should," said Ethel, "if the fairies
gave us a chance."
"Or we gave them a chance," corrected Charlie.
"Well, I'm ready for them," said Roger,
"whenever they like to come."
"So am I," added Rachael, "but I wish we could do
something to make them come. Do think of something,
Roger."
Roger plunged into thought for a few minutes, then he cried:
"I've got it--I've got it!"
"What--what?"
"Never mind; I will tell you directly after tea." And
directly after tea Roger took Rachael into the garden, and they remained
there so long, in excited conversation, that when they returned the
tea-party was hopelessly dispersed, and Ruby fast asleep in her bed
upstairs. Had Ruby not been fast asleep she would have heard a great
buzzing and bustle, on the little landing outside her door, and the words,
moonlight, sea, tide, towels, would
have reached her ears, and she would have roused herself to learn what new plot was being made. As it was, she slept through all the buzzing till the plot was perfected, and silence reigned again on the landing. Then her sleep seemed to break up into pieces, and between the pieces she heard voices singing outside her window. Once she opened her eyes and saw the room full of moonlight, and through the half-drawn curtains she glanced at the Priory, and thought how clear and cold it looked in the sharp silvery light. Then again she opened them, and, as she did so, there was a rushing of little shadows across the curtains--fairy shadows every one, dancing, dancing, in a long procession. And as the last shadow danced by, Ruby heard them singing in the garden, and their song seemed to be of her.
"She has opened the gate,
And she must
not delay,
Every step she may take
On the wonderful
way.
Through the land and the sea,
She
may travel at will,
And her eyes shall be free
From all shadow
of ill."
All through the night Ruby heard fairies singing round the cottage. She
did not rouse herself: it was natural now to hear them singing.
"I thought you would come," said Ruby, as she stepped out to
her. "Where are we going?"
"It is for you to say."
"We will see what the Priory was like in the old times, when the
monks lived there." Ruby looked across the wheat-fields at the
ruins which had shone in the moonlight.
"Then put your hand in mine, shut your eyes, and wish." Ruby
closed her eyes and wished, and at once felt herself borne upwards beside
her companion. She could feel the touch of the soft mantle as they moved
through the air. They flew a great distance, and Ruby could see beneath her
lids that their flight was through darkness. She longed many times to open
her eyes, and learn what manner of country it was they were passing, but
the voice beside her each time said: "With closed eyes,
Ruby," and she kept them shut obediently, until her feet touched
ground, and the hand which held hers withdrew its clasp.
"You may open them now."
Ruby opened them and looked about her in wonder. She was in a great
church, and she was standing at the end of it, with huge pillars on either
side of her--immense round stone pillars with a great zigzag pattern
cut deeply into them and running round them from top to bottom--and
beyond the pillars, were the aisles of the church; but here the light was
dim, for across them the huge pillars cast their shadows. Overhead were
great round stone arches, reaching from pillar to pillar, resting upon them
as if they had rested thus for ever. At the end of the building a great
tower rose up, and the pillars turned off to right and left. The church was
built in the form of a cross, and Ruby was looking up the nave to the
choir, and to the great east window above it. She walked towards the window
slowly, as a ray of sunlight shone through the lightly-stained
glass, and the few pieces of colour in it sparkled like precious stones.
Soon the sunlight grew stronger; and throughout the church it shone from
pictured windows, painted in deep blues and reds; filling the building with
a haze of colour, but through the jewelled east window the sun sparkled
most beautifully of all. And upon the windows, and over all the walls, were
pictures of Bible stories: and everywhere Ruby saw lovely draperies,
embroidered with delicate silks and rarest gems, and figures and fruits and
foliage carved in the stone.
The beautiful lady had disappeared, but Ruby did not miss her, so
absorbed was she in all she saw: she felt quite safe in this fair
place.
As she drew near the choir she heard an organ, and voices singing, and,
on coming quite near, she saw that people were standing there, singing from
sheets of parchment, on which the music was written in such large notes she
could read it from where she stood. When the music ceased the monks left
their seats one by one, and passed her silently in a solemn procession.
Ruby knew they were monks, by their long black gowns tied in at the waist
with leathern girdles, by their shaven heads, and bare feet. She hastened
after them.
"Oh, please tell me all about yourselves," she was going to
say, but stopped abruptly, as the last monk in the procession turned and
looked at her, and put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence. He looked
for a moment, then he held out his hand to her and led her after the
others. The procession passed down the church to a door in the aisle, and
through it each monk stepped slowly, Ruby's friend closing it behind
him. She observed him curiously as he did so, and thought how sad and tired
he looked.
"Are you happy here?" she asked, as he turned to walk
again.
The monk bent a grave face towards her.
"I was happy long ago, and long ago I was unhappy: here we
have peace only." Then in a lighter tone he continued:
"We lead a busy life. We are in the cloisters now." And he
pointed down the walk in which they stood. It was a long stone gallery,
with a wall on one side, and on the other side a line of stone pillars,
upon which rested round arches, open to the air: and overhead was a
stone
roof fashioned likewise in arches. Three other such galleries made, with this one, a long walk round a square lawn, in the middle of which a fountain played and sparkled.
"We work here," said the monk. And he led Ruby up to a group
of monks who were writing at a table.
"They are illuminating books for use in our Church
services," he said, as Ruby examined their painting and thought how
delicate and wonderful it was. Farther on he showed her another group of
workers, binding and mending books, and rubbing out the thumb marks upon
the pages. Then, in one of the other galleries, he showed her a monk
teaching Latin to a class of boys, and in another a group of
choir-boys, practising the psalms for a later service.
In the last gallery she saw a number of monks writing at a long table.
They were not illuminating like the others. Ruby looked at her guide for
explanation.
"They are making notes for the great diary in the
writing-room."
"Diary!" said Ruby, in surprise.
"Yes; we keep a diary in this monastery--you know, of course,
you are in a monastery--a diary of everything that happens, not only
here, but throughout the kingdom. In it are written all the deeds of our
king and of his enemies."
"But," said Ruby, "how can you know about
everything?"
"There are so many of us, you see, we each contribute different
news and information. Any news we think
important enough to be entered, we write on a piece of parchment and slip into the diary, and one, who is carefully chosen, reads the slips and decides whether or not they shall be entered. Then, if he approves, he copies them carefully into the big book."
"What a clever plan," said Ruby. She began to feel quite at
home with this blackly-draped monk, he had so kind a smile and so
pleasant a voice. "Please let me see where you live."
"We live here mostly, in the cloisters."
"But where do you sleep and have meals?"
"The names for the rooms are rather long; will you remember
them?"
"Oh yes; I shall remember if you tell me." Ruby always
remembered things after one lesson.
"These are the dormitories, where we sleep." He led her
upstairs into a room over the cloisters.
Along the wall was a row of narrow beds, side by side, and of furniture
in the room this was all. It looked very bare, and felt very cold, as the
wind blew in from the open roof at the end.
"I suppose you have studies of your own?" said Ruby, looking
about her with dissatisfaction.
"No; we sleep, eat, work, and do everything together."
Then her guide led her downstairs into the big dining-hall or
refectory, and he told her to be sure to remember its name, as he showed
her the big fireplace in the middle of the room. Then he took her into the
chapter-house, or council-chamber, where the heads
of the monastery met to discuss important matters; and then he showed her the great kitchen, with its army of cooks and scullions. After this he took her into the guest-room, which was richly provided with hangings and delicate furniture, and more carefully ornamented than any part of the monastery, except the church. And he told her the names of the kings who had slept there, and of the famous people who had accepted the monastery's hospitality.
"The poorest traveller, also, has a right to food and shelter from
us," he said; "we entertain all who knock at our gates."
And then he led her through several buildings into the wheat-field
outside. "Now, Ruby, look at our church, at the ruin you have so
often watched from your window."
Ruby looked, and there stood the Priory, perfect and complete:
with its two rows of round-topped windows, and its strong tower, and
its beautiful east window looking out over the sea. She could see clearly
now that the great building was in the shape of a cross, and all around it
stretched its fields, in which numberless servants of the monastery were
working.
"And now, little Ruby, I must go, I must go, I must go." The
monk's voice grew faint as he spoke, his black garments grew bright,
the dark folds grew luminous and green and full of sweet embroideries.
Then, raising her eyes, Ruby beheld the face of the beautiful lady.
"But the monk! Were you the monk?"
The beautiful lady smiled in answer to Ruby's question.
"Perhaps," she said. "Look, it will not endure
longer."
And Ruby, turning her eyes again to the Priory, saw it fade and
disappear in a golden haze: but the face of the beautiful lady grew
clearer, and her raiment shone more brightly, as the mist grew denser.
"Rest in my arms," she said. And she took Ruby in her arms,
and sprang upwards with her into the air. Up and up she flew, and the birds
sang their morning song about her head; then upwards and upwards through
the sunshine, and the birds sang at her feet; and higher and higher, to the
delicate white clouds which the sea breeze had scattered along the sky, and
the songs of the birds came faintly from the distance beneath.
"And up and up," said Ruby, "until I see the rosy
world on the other side of the clouds."
But the beautiful lady shook her head.
"You have seen enough this morning; it is downwards now--down
to your own Sea-thrift and another day. Shut your eyes, shut your
eyes."
Ruby's eyes closed and her head sank on to the beautiful
lady's shoulder. When she awoke, it was to the sound of the breakfast
gong, and to find herself tucked up cosily in her own little bed.
"I don't think I want to go just yet," said Ruby.
"Oh, you must come now, please, Ruby," whispered Rachael;
"we've something to tell you."
"It's about last night," said Roger, "about
something which happened. Do you think it really did
happen?" he added, turning to Rachael.
"Oh, it must have happened," exclaimed Rachael,
"because of the--" She broke off abruptly, and nodded her
head in the direction of the clothes-line outside the kitchen door,
on which their bathing things were hanging. Ruby walked towards it and
examined the garments, then she came back to Roger and the chair.
"I don't see anything strange about the bathing
things!"
"Didn't you notice anything
different?"
"They are not wet; you didn't bathe this morning."
"No; but they are not dry, are they?"
"Oh, I see, you had a bathe in the evening?"
"Not exactly in the evening."
"In the night! No; you didn't bathe in the night?"
Roger and Rachael nodded their heads solemnly.
"In the moonlight," they answered, as Ruby seated herself in
the chair in obedience to their arrangements.
"We'll tell you when we get to the lane; but I wish I knew
whether it really happened or not!" Roger spoke with a puzzled and
rather worried air.
"It is difficult to be quite sure," said Ruby
sympathetically, thinking of the golden gate, the deep sea, and the
restored Priory. "But I am sure it all really
happened," she added, as she remembered the beautiful lady.
"But you don't know," began Roger.
"I was thinking of things that have happened to me," said
Ruby; "but mine will take a long time to tell, so tell yours
first."
"Ours will take ever so long, too, so we must be quick,"
said Rachael, as she opened the gate. Then Rachael pulled, and Roger
pushed, and the chair rolled away at a great pace through the village,
until it came to Honeysuckle Lane, the prettiest of all the lanes leading
to the sea. Here they stopped to take breath, and sat down under the
hedge.
"Well," began Roger, as soon as he could speak, "you
know how bright the moon was last night; we got up and dressed by it when
everyone was asleep, and slipped out of the window."
"How did you get out?" asked Ruby, greatly interested.
"We fastened the strap of the big trunk to the bed, and slid down
it; it isn't much of a drop."
"Did anyone help you?"
"Of course not; everyone was asleep. Well, we took our bathing
things and went up the barley-field, to the flagstaff, and down by
the coast-guard gap to the sand."
"Didn't the coast-guard see you?"
"No one was there--we were quite alone--everywhere it
was still and bright. The only sound we heard was made by the cows on the
cliff, crunching their food and moving about the grass."
"And," said Rachael, taking up the story, "the moon
was so bright we could see everything clearly all along the coast, and
along the silvery path across the sea we could see for miles and miles,
much farther than we see by day."
"But," went on Roger, "although the sea was perfectly
smooth, along the sand the waves were breaking, in that tiresome way they
have, on the pebbles. Rachael was afraid of getting her feet cut, and just
as I was going to carry her into the water we heard voices calling us.
Everywhere, as the waves curled over, and the silvery foam rolled down
their smooth sides, we saw faces nodding to us and hands beckoning
us."
"Did they say anything?" asked Ruby.
"But, Ruby, are you not astonished?"
"No," said Ruby; "do tell me what they said, or
sang."
Roger and Rachael thought for a few minutes, then they repeated
together:
"To the sea, the
sea,
For a moonlit while,
For the path is
free
To the Silver Isle;
And the waves now
break on the shining sand,
But a fairy mile from the sleeping
land.
He who comes must
stay
From the dawn till night,
And from
night till day
And the sun's first
light,
If he comes to sail for a fairy mile,
To the
sea-girt shore of the Silver Isle."
"We've both remembered!" they cried delightedly, as
they finished. "Then it must be true!"
"Oh, please go on," said Ruby; "what did they do
then?"
"They sang the words over and over many times, and beckoned to us
more and more; then I carried Rachael as far as the first wave, and somehow
she dropped, and I slipped, and we were both pulled under and borne out
into the smooth water beyond the breakers; we felt little arms and hands
all about us."
Roger paused, and Rachael took up the tale.
"They hid from us as soon as we began swimming
about. We heard them sing the same song over and over and over, and we tried to find them; but we did not see them again until we tried to come in. Then the little hands and arms helped us back in the same way, and, as we stepped on to the firm sand, they all arose from the water and took hands, and danced away across the sea along the silvery path. We waited a long time for them to come back, but they did not sing or come any more, so we ran home and climbed in at the window again and went to bed."
"What do you think about it, Ruby?" asked Roger. "Do
you think we both dreamed it?"
"No; it really happened," said Ruby. And then, of course,
she told them of her own adventures in the early mornings. When the long
story of them was finished Roger asked the same question.
"What do you think about it, Ruby? Do you think you dreamed
it?"
"No; I am sure the things really happened," said Ruby,
"but if one could stay for a day and a night--"
"From the dawn till night,
And from night till
day,"
sang the others.
"Of course, then," continued Ruby thoughtfully, "there
could be no doubt. I wonder if we could find the Silver Isle
by ourselves."
After a long discussion they agreed it would be useless to try, but
later in the morning, when they reappeared in the garden, they all seemed
strangely preoccupied.
Even the morning bathe did not rouse them. Ruby was allowed to go down to the sea this morning for the first time, and she stood beside the tent and looked at the sky and at the water, and at the line of ripples along the sand. There were no waves this morning, no hiding-places for fairies along the shore. She stood and wondered about the Silver Isle; and when Roger and Rachael ran races after their bathe, and Ethel and Charlie built the Coliseum at her very feet, she still wondered about it.
"The sea-birds must go there when they fly out to sea and
disappear," she said, when Charlie told her the Coliseum was
completed. Charlie, of course, was surprised.
"Must go where?" he asked--"to the
Coliseum?"
"No; to the Silver Isle. I forgot you did not know about it.
I'm afraid I have been thinking of it all the time. But the Coliseum
is very nice; thank you for making it. I think the birds do
stop at the Silver Isle, when they fly across the seas to the warm
countries. They cannot fly for days and nights without resting, can they? I
am so glad they have the Silver Isle."
"The albatross flies for weeks without resting, and some of the
small birds must fly for days and nights, every year, to cross the seas
they do cross. How strange it is that no one ever sees them set out upon
their journey, or arrive at their journey's
end."
"They rest at the Silver Isle," repeated Ruby.
"Where is the isle?" asked Ethel, looking up from her
finishing touches to the Coliseum.
"I'm not sure; I'm going to find out."
"In your dreams, Ruby?"
"No; not in dreams," said Ruby decidedly. "By this
time to-morrow I shall have seen it and know all about
it."
Charlie took out his watch. "Very well, then," he said ;
"this time to-morrow I shall remind you, and expect a full
description. If I like your account of it I shall take Ethel there on a
visit."
When bedtime came that evening, Ruby wished Roger and Rachael
good-night at the top of the steep little stairs, outside her
door.
"I will tell you all about it to-morrow," she
said.
"About what?" Roger and Rachael were sure now that their
adventure of the night before had been a dream.
"The Silver Isle," explained Ruby; "I shall go and see
it at sunrise."
"Well, you will be sure to tell us, won't you?"
"Yes; quite sure. I promise. Good-night."
"It is an army of silver-gold caps," she said, as she
watched it.
"An army to take you prisoner," answered the voices from the
garden, and the sound of the voices was as of silver bells.
"Prisoner, why?"
"Oh, we don't know why. We've come because we were
sent."
"Who sent you?"
"The beautiful lady sent us to take you to the Silver
Isle."
"The Silver Isle!" Ruby clapped her hands.
"He who comes must stay
From the dawn
till night,
And from night till day
And the
sun's first light,"
sang the fairies.
"I suppose I shall not be kept longer than that," said Ruby,
somewhat anxiously.
"We cannot tell. Come, we are waiting." And suddenly the
whole company drew up in military order, and each fairy touched his cap
respectfully.
Ruby looked along their lines with great interest.
"I am so fond of drilling," she. said; "and what
beautifully even lines you make. I suppose you know all the
exercises--skipping-ropes, and clubs, and balls. I never can do
balls, they fly about so; can you do them?"
The fairies, for answer, stepped into position, and
in an instant were all doing the double ball exercise beautifully. In all the company not one little silvery gold ball fell to the ground.
"Oh dear!" sighed Ruby, "I wish mine would keep up
like that!"
"Practise," came from the company, in a tone of command that
quite startled her.
"I do practise," she explained, "when I am
well." Then, to bring them back to their respectful manner, she
said: "I suppose you do not know how long I shall stay in the
Silver Isle?"
The remark had not the effect she expected. Instead of touching caps in
line, the whole company broke up in confusion and began dancing wildly.
"Be quick! Do not ask any more questions. We shall be
late."
"We must be there before the sun is up."
"Before the first streak of light stretches across the
sky."
"Before the sea-birds leave their footmarks on the
sand."
The fairies crowded together beneath her window.
"Jump," they cried. And a soft grey something, looking like
meadow mist, was unrolled.
Ruby had no time to examine it, she was urged so peremptorily to be
quick. She jumped obediently into the midst of the dancing company.
Then they ceased dancing, and some behind, and some in front, and others
at the sides, carried her across the garden.
"I like going quickly," she said, smiling at them.
"We shall go quickly enough directly," they answered, as
they skipped with her over the wall.
"It's a kind of tandem," laughed Ruby, looking at the
long line in front of her.
"No, no! it is random--random--random--" And
the fairies ran swiftly through the barley, through the big field to the
edge of the cliff; but although they ran so swiftly and so lightly that the
barley closed up again behind them as they passed, Ruby felt quite safe in
her carriage. She moved along as smoothly as upon still waters.
At the cliff edge they set her upon the grass; and the company of
twilight fairies called the sea fairies from the sandy grey shore. The sea
fairies called again in answer, and the sound of their voices was as of
sea-spray falling upon the rocks.
"We wait for Ruby," they said. And, from each w