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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 wave that
broke upon the shore, a silvery figure rose up out of the foam. All along
the shore they arose, as far as Ruby could see, and as they ran towards her
each stooped and picked up a gossamer mantle, grey, green, and blue. Ruby
could not tell their colours; they changed continually as the fairies ran
up with them from the sea.
"I have seen the spiders spinning them," she said,
"from one pebble to another, all over the beach."
Then one of the fairies, on the cliff, pointed to a streak of yellow
stretching from the east across the sky. The fairies below turned and
looked, and beckoned to Ruby.
"The sails are set for the Silver Isle, and we must reach it
before to-day's sun leaves the sea."
And, drawn up out of the water, on the dry sand, Ruby saw a silver boat,
with silvery sails moving to and fro in the breeze. The boat was long and
slim.
"Will she sail quickly?" asked Ruby.
"As quickly as the swallows."
Twined round the masts of the boat were garlands of sea flowers, and
corals; and, as the light grew brighter, the inside of the boat shone like
mother-of-pearl. Some of the sea fairies ran up the cliff and
took Ruby's hands, and led her to the boat. She stepped in at once
and put her hand upon the rudder.
"Where will you steer?" they asked in chorus.
"Across the sea to the sun."
As she spoke the sun showed above the water, a red arc on the horizon.
Before her boat was launched delicate pink clouds spread lightly up the
sky, up and up, over her head; and landwards farther than she could
see: and, as the arc grew bigger, a rosy light filled the sky, and
the sand-banks shone like rose petals.
Higher rose the sun, and, when the boat touched the water, orange and
yellow cloud-ways filled the sky. Then higher and higher it rose,
until blue and green shone between opal dyes, and all the glory of the dawn
was about her. Then the wind filled her sails, and the sea fairies slipped
into the sea behind her; and as the boat moved over the water the sunshine
fell upon her face. She turned to wave her
hand to the twilight fairies who waited still at the edge of the cliff.
"Good-bye; thank you so much for coming for me. I shall see
you again?"
"Maybe, maybe; good-bye," they answered, as they
waved hands in a long line.
As Ruby turned to wave hers again, she saw they were no longer the grey
twilight company of the garden, but a brilliant army in golden armour,
shining and sparkling in the sun.
"Good-bye, then," she said, waving her hand for the
seventh time; "do not wait any longer."
"We wait till you return," said they on the land. And the
shining company twinkled for a moment along the cliff, and disappeared.
"But they do not know how long I shall
be," said Ruby to her sea friends--"at least, they did not
tell me when I asked them--but that does not matter: this is so
beautiful, I do not mind how far the fairy mile may be." And her boat
went skimming over the water like a silver bird.
The sea fairies all the time swam round her. They were so many, they
made a long shining track behind her, and as they swam after her they
sang:
"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."
"Shall I see all there is to see in a day and a night?"
asked Ruby, of the fairies who swam beside the boat.
The sea fairies laughed. "Days and nights," said they,
"cannot show you the stores of the ages."
"But you will bring me again," she said, "many times,
and let me see by degrees?"
"That is for you to decide," they answered solemnly.
"If you tell of what you see in the Silver Isle you can never visit
it again."
"Oh dear!"
Ruby was dreadfully disappointed. She already longed for Roger and
Rachael to share her delight. She began to argue the matter; but as she did
so the wind suddenly blew more strongly, and more strongly: and more
strongly it blew until the boat flew faster than her sea friends could
follow: they lay back upon the waves and disappeared, leaving Ruby to
sail alone to the unknown isle.
Now Ruby, although recovered from her illness, was by no means quite
well and strong, and her mother rose hastily, fearing the doings of the
other room. She had had a long experience of early morning
pillow-fights, and sponge-matches; and she pictured the
upheaved state of the other room, with Ruby sitting in the middle of damp
washing materials.
"Ruby, you should not have come without asking me," she
said, as she opened Rachael's door.
"Ruby, mother! Ruby isn't here."
Rachael was already dressed, and Roger had come in to tell her to look
at a "purple emperor" from the window.
"Not here! She must be downstairs. Run down, Roger, and tell her
to come up quickly."
Roger ran downstairs, but Ruby was nowhere to be seen.
Their mother grew anxious, and went back to Ruby's room. There
were Ruby's clothes lying neatly on the chair by the bed:
everything was there except the little dressing-gown and woolly
slippers.
Ruby's mother dressed quickly and ran downstairs. Had the servants
or the gardener seen Ruby? Was the door unfastened
when they came down this morning?
No; no one had seen her, and the door had not been unfastened.
"O mother," said Rachael, "do you think anything has
happened to Ruby? We told her about the fairies we saw--or thought we
saw--in the sea, when we bathed in the moonlight; and last night Ruby
said she was going to the Silver Isle: the fairies sang to us of the
Silver Isle."
The children's mother sat upon Ruby's little empty bed, and
put her hands to her head in bewilderment.
"My dear children, what are you saying? What moonlight bathe, what
Silver Isle, and what do you mean when you tell me you have seen
fairies?"
"We saw fairies in the foam, mother," began Roger
confidently; "at least, I was sure we saw them until I began to
question myself."
"And so was I," cried Rachael. "They called us from
the waves, and sang the same song over and over many times."
"Yes, yes," added Roger eagerly. "O mother, we really
did see them. Don't you remember the song, Rachael?"
"Yes, yes."
The two children repeated the words of the song:
"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 told Ruby the song," continued Roger, in distress.
"She has been thinking ever since of the Silver Isle, and last night,
when we wished her good-night, she said she was going to find
it."
"Where do you suppose it is?" asked their mother
quietly.
"Across the water, at the end of the shining moonlight-way,
where the sea touches the sky."
"Come, you must help me to find Ruby now," said their
mother, rising. "Put the Silver Isle out of your heads."
"Wonderful things have been happening to Ruby, mother, during her
illness," persisted Rachael and Roger.
But their mother looked at them with anxious eyes, and told them to tell their story to their father, while she went to Ethel and Charlie's.
As she went, she had an uneasy feeling that she should not find Ruby
there; and she did not find her. When she had retold Roger and
Rachael's story of the moonlight fairies, and the Silver Isle,
Charlie said:
"The children have dreamed, and imagined, and talked about
fairies, until they can no longer distinguish between dreaming and
reality."
"How does the second verse go?" he added, for Ruby's
mother had told them the song. "Oh yes; I remember--
'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.'
How easily I remember, and you remembered it too: that is the way
with fairy songs."
But Ruby's mother could no longer be patient.
"Come, come," she said, "you are dreaming too. We must
do something; we cannot sit down and wait for a day and a
night."
"It might be the wisest plan," said Charlie, beginning to
roll a cigarette.
When Charlie began to roll a cigarette, in conversation, every one knew
that his contribution to it had come
to an end; so Ruby's mother turned from Ethel and Charlie's window, and went into the road again. There she met Roger and Rachael with their father.
"They have been dreaming," said the children's
father.
"Charlie has been dreaming too," said the children's
mother.
"And Ethel--"
"I am coming to help you look for Ruby," said Ethel
cheerfully, running from the cottage. "First of all we'll go
down to the tent; she may be there."
Ethel led the way with Rachael, along the loke and down the sandy hill,
followed by Roger and his father and mother; Charlie watched them quietly
from the window.
"Perhaps Charlie has seen fairies when he has been sketching. He
gets up at all times to paint things--sometimes at sunrise, sometimes
before it is light--and he is often on the beach in the moonlight. He
finds out-of-the-way places along the cliffs, where no
one ever comes. Perhaps he has been to the Silver Isle himself," said
Roger, as his father and mother remained silent.
"My dear boy, this strong air has got into your heads. We shall
find Ruby in the tent," said Roger's father, as they stepped on
to the sand.
But Roger's father was mistaken. Ruby wasn't in the tent, or
anywhere near the tent; neither was she in the big fishing-boat that
lay upon its side at the water's edge, nor in the boat of
Roger's making, that still eluded its wheelbarrow metamorphosis. Then
the
search party divided, and went in different directions: Ethel and Rachael turning southward to the next gap, where the beach-path ran up into the main road, while Roger, with his father and mother, climbed the steep road leading to the coastguard look-out, where the long-boat was kept. Then Roger and his party came down to the beach again, and walked farther north, to Honey Gap, at the end of Honeysuckle Lane. Then they went on farther, to the fishermen's storehouse; where the shrimping-nets and tarred ropes and sails and oars were kept. They asked the fishermen if any of them had seen a little girl, in dressing-gown and woolly slippers, on the sand that morning. The fishermen shook their heads and expressed astonishment; and this was all.
After a long, tiring search, the party turned back.
When they reached the tent, they found Ethel and Rachael waiting for
them.
"We've had no luck," said Ethel; "we have been
as far as the lighthouse, and have asked everyone we met."
Then the whole party sat down upon the sand and looked anxiously out to
sea.
"Here is Charlie," said Rachael, suddenly breaking the
silence; "perhaps he knows something about Ruby. Mother, see, he is
beckoning to us, and coming down the cliff from the
barley-field."
Rachael rushed off to meet Charlie, and came running back with him,
breathless with haste and excitement.
"Look, look!" she cried, holding up a woollen slipper
crocheted in green and blue; "it is Ruby's, and Charlie found
it in the middle of the barley-field."
Charlie answered none of the questions.
"Come with me," he said, "I will show you."
He led them to the foot of the cliff down which he had just come.
"Look carefully," he said again, pointing up the steep
footpath to the barley.
Everyone began to examine the path, Roger and Rachael more minutely than
the others. After some minutes of close scrutiny, up and down, Rachael,
from the top, called to the others:
"Here are marks of tiny feet, close to the barley,
and they show among the barley, too, for a short distance." She knelt down to examine the marks more thoroughly.
"Bare feet," added Roger, quickly on his knees beside her.
"Tiny bare feet."
"Well," said Charlie, from below, "what
next?"
"They come down the path," continued Roger, crawling along
on hands and knees. "There are so many, they cross and recross, all
the time, down to the bottom." Roger looked up at Charlie for his
explanation.
"Well," repeated Charlie, "they do not stop
there."
"No; of course they don't. Look, look!" cried Rachael;
"they are all over the beach."
"Not all over," corrected Charlie. "Do you notice
anything peculiar in the position of the footmarks?"
"From the top of the path," said Roger, running up to it
quickly, "many of the feet go backwards."
"Perhaps they didn't only come down," suggested
Rachael; "perhaps they went up first."
"Precisely," said Charlie; "that is what happened. The
marks are in perfect order."
He pointed to the little footmarks, stretching at regular intervals
across the sand, from the water's edge to the cliff, and then up the
cliff-path to the barley. The marks were so slight and delicate,
they looked, at first sight, like the footprints of birds.
"These," explained Charlie, "were made by feet running
up from the sea."
"Yes, yes," cried Rachael; "the sea fairies ran across
the sand and up the cliff."
"Yes."
"But the other feet?" said Roger.
"The land fairies carried Ruby across the
barley-field," explained Charlie.
All this time Ruby's father and mother, and Ethel, listened in
silence. They were not sure that the marks down the cliff, and upon the wet
sand, were not the footprints of gulls, and sand-pipers, and
sanderlings.
Suddenly Rachael called from the water's edge.
"Do come quickly. Here are the prettiest things." She held
out her hands full of beautiful little shells, red, yellow, blue, and
dainty mother-of-pearl.
"They were all in one place," she said; "the tide must
have left them. And here are seaweeds, and corals, and anemones, that we
never get on this coast."
Roger went down on his knees beside her, and, in spite of the waves,
examined the wet sand.
"Here is the mark of a keel," he said in a few minutes.
"It is a longboat, and on either side of it are the tiny footmarks,
going with it out to sea."
"And here," said Rachael, "is Ruby's
handkerchief, with Ruby's name embroidered in the corner; it is the
one Roger gave her last holidays. O mother, Ruby has certainly gone to the
Silver Isle; the fairies have taken her."
Roger turned eagerly to his father, but his father shook his head.
"You have the shoe and the handkerchief, but--"
Ruby's mother and Ethel came up as he paused.
"Let us go and make inquiries in the village," they
said: and the three turned from the sea and went up to the
village.
But Charlie, with Roger and Rachael, sat by the tent. They were sure
Ruby was safe, and, this being so, inquiries were useless. They sat a long
time watching the waves and the sky, and Charlie took a sketch-book
from his pocket, and in it drew fairies and fairy boats.
By-and-by he looked at his watch.
"Do you know we have been sitting here for two hours? We must go
home at once and get something to eat."
Roger and Rachael, of course, were not hungry, and said they wanted to
wait there, until the fairies brought Ruby back in the morning.
"That is impossible. We must have a meal immediately,"
insisted Charlie, and he took each of them by the hand, and made them run
nearly all the way home.
At Sea-thrift they met the others, much depressed with unsuccess,
having enquired in vain at the Inn, and at the Post-office, and at
every cottage in the village. Charlie made them come indoors with the
children. With much reluctance the three seekers obeyed, but, directly the
meal was over, they set out again
on their quest. They now made a long and searching examination of all the
coastguards. The coastguards said that one or other of them had been at the
"look-out" all
night. Nothing like a little girl in dressing-gown and slippers had been seen, and as for a boat, or anything else, leaving the beach unnoticed by them, the idea was ridiculous.
"We are always on the watch," said the tallest of the men;
"nothing can escape us." And he swept the horizon with his
glass in a masterful way, defying the sea to keep any secret from His
Majesty's servants.
Then the seekers returned to the cottage: and Ruby's mother
said she would bicycle to the doctor's house, to consult him:
and all the others, for differing reasons, decided to ride with her.
The doctor's house was about four miles inland. The bicycles were
quickly collected, and, in about fifteen minutes, the whole party had left
the village and were moving rapidly along the lanes, between hedges of
blackberry blossom.
The doctor's house stood beside two fine old barns, and the
doctor's front garden was full of flowers; and through an arch of
roses, at the end of a gravel path, was a beautiful lawn, with a
fruit-covered wall sheltering it on three sides; and overtopping the
wall were poplars and great elms. The doctor himself sat reading in a low
chair on the lawn. He put down his book and came towards them, apparently
in no way surprised by their number.
"And how is little Ruby to-day," he said, leaning the
last bicycle against his hedge.
"Ah, that is why we are all here!" exclaimed Ruby's
mother. "Ruby has gone!" And she told
him the story of Ruby's disappearance, and of Roger and Rachael's account of the fairies, before she and the doctor reached the lawn.
"Then," said the doctor, when at last she sat down in the
chair he brought for her, "you must wait patiently until
to-morrow morning; that is not difficult."
Ruby's mother looked at him in astonishment.
"You do not mean--" she began.
"Of course I mean the children are right," he interrupted,
with a smile. "Wait patiently. Don't you remember, Ruby said
she wanted to see fairies, the day she arrived? She is quite
safe."
"Yes," said Rachael, delighted to find the doctor on her
side, "yes; Charlie, Roger, and I, know she is safe."
"That is all right then," said the white-haired
doctor, smiling at the children, and looking thoughtfully at Charlie.
"And your father, and mother, and Ethel," he continued,
turning his kind eyes upon the doubting trio, "think that you, and
Charlie, and I, are suffering from a delusion. Is it not so?"
He turned to the three doubters, and none of the three contradicted
him.
she would find Ruby safely asleep, in hers, in the morning.
The children's father had ridden, early in the evening, to the
nearest town, to make enquiries; and Ethel, until far into the night, was
searching the neighbouring villages, in spite of Charlie, who accompanied
her, and told her all the time she would have no success.
"I have never been awake for long in the dark," said
Rachael. "It will be fun to sit up a whole night."
"We shall see what Ruby calls the 'consternations,' in
the sky," said Roger gaily, placing two chairs by the window.
"You won't mind if we have a little meal in the night, will
you, mother?" he asked, as Rachael brought in an ample tray of
biscuits, bananas, and milk. "We thought we might be hungry before
the early morning, and we don't want to be eating when they
arrive."
His mother smiled. "No, I don't mind; I'm afraid
I'm nearly asleep. Wake me up, dears, if you feel lonely."
"We sha'n't feel lonely, mother. Need we draw the
curtains? We shall see them much sooner--"
"No; you need not draw the curtains. Good-night."
Ruby's mother fell into a deep sleep as she spoke, and Roger and
Rachael sat down quietly by the window.
"Mother believes in the Silver Isle at last," whispered
Rachael.
"Yes;" said Roger; "and when Ruby comes back she can
never doubt again."
"What time will they bring Ruby?" asked Roger, after a
quarter of a hour's silence.
"Just before sunrise."
There was a long pause.
"It's a long time to wait, isn't it? " said
Roger again. "What is that?"
They put their heads out of the window, as the gate closed behind their
father.
"It is all right, father," they said, leaning out to him;
"mother's asleep."
Their father looked up in surprise.
"Is there some news then?"
"She will be here in the morning, father; do believe she will be
here! Mother believes it now, and has gone to sleep happily; we are going
to sit up and watch for Ruby across the barley-field."
But their father opened the cottage door, and entered without speaking.
They heard him walking up and down the little parlour for a long time, then
he went into the garden again, and walked slowly down the path to the gate,
and into the road.
The children sat and talked quietly, until the night was well advanced.
The moon was clear and beautiful, and between the banks of fleecy grey
cloud were patches of blue sky.
"They are lakes and rivers," said Roger, pointing to the
blue.
"How nice to sail along them," said Rachael,
look-
ing up. "The clouds are continents and islands. I should like to land on that little isle in the middle of the biggest lake." She pointed across the barley-field, to a silvery grey cloud which hung over the sea. All about it the sky was clear and blue, and the cloud shone silvery in the moonlight.
"Perhaps that is the Silver Isle," she whispered.
"Or its reflection," suggested Roger.
By-and-by a mass of black cloud drifted up the sky from
the west, and a wind blew over the fields; the children shivered, and began
to feel the night-time long and lonely.
"Let's have something to eat," said Roger. They drew
up to the tray and ate their midnight meal, and were quickly revived. The
rain now began to fall steadily; it poured down in big heavy drops, and
heavy thunder rolled across the sky. The storm came very near, the
thunder-clouds seemed to break immediately overhead; but the
children's mother did not wake.
"How tired mother must have been," they whispered, as they
watched her sleeping peacefully through the storm.
"Where is father? he did not come back; he will be very
wet!"
"And Ruby, poor little Ruby--I wonder," began Rachael,
thinking of a change of dressing-gown and slippers for the
traveller.
"They will know how to keep her safe and dry in the storm,"
said Roger; "don't be anxious. How much she will have to tell
us," he went on. "I wish the
morning would come more quickly; a whole night is a long time, isn't it?" Roger yawned. "I'm not sleepy," he said, when the storm ceased, "but I'll just lie down for a bit, it's rather dull sitting here now there's nothing to look at." And he curled up in a rug at the end of Ruby's bed.
"Don't--don't go to sleep, Roger," implored
Rachael. "We don't know what time she will come; it would be a
dreadful pity if both of us were not watching. Do wake up."
"All right, in a minute," murmured Roger, and he pulled the
rug closer about him, and fell into a deep sleep.
Rachael stood beside him in a despairing attitude for some minutes, then
she went and sat alone by the window. She was determined that someone
should watch the night through. She managed to it watch for another hour,
until the rain stopped and the sky began to clear; but it seemed an endless
time, and she began to wonder if she should rest for a few minutes. She
wrapped herself in a shawl, leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and
wondered again if she should have he very shortest nap; and was, of course,
in a few minutes, as fast asleep as Roger.
Ruby's robin woke her at sunrise. He flew on to the
window-sill and looked at Rachael.
"Wake, wake," he chirped.
Rachael opened her eyes to the bright sunshine, and looked hastily at
Ruby's bed. No; it was all right, Ruby had not come yet; only Roger
lay there, still fast asleep. She jumped up and shook him briskly.
"Wake up Roger; be quick: it is sunrise, and Ruby will be
here directly."
Roger opened his eyes slowly and stared at Rachael.
"What's up?" He looked about him in surprise; then he
remembered. "Ah! she hasn't come yet; but
look--look!" he cried excitedly, going to the window.
"They are coming--over there--close to the cliff--I
see bright little figures dancing about. See how they shine and sparkle!
They are coming through the barley; look--look!"
"Yes," cried Rachael, clapping her hands; "how quickly
they come. See, Ruby is in the middle; they are carrying her."
"She is in a chair of gold, and the chair has a canopy hung with
curtains of gold, and golden draperies flow behind it as they
come."
And through the barley-field the fairy procession came, with Ruby
in its midst, and it set her down upon the grass beneath her window.
"O Ruby," cried Roger and Rachael, "how glad we are to
see you, and how beautiful it all is!"
"Yes." Ruby smiled up through the shining crowd.
"May we speak to them?" asked Rachael anxiously.
Ruby nodded.
"What shall we say? May we talk ordinarily?"
"Of course."
"We are glad to see you," said Rachael, smiling and bowing
politely.
The fairies drew up in line and bowed politely in return.
"We knew you would bring Ruby back safely," said Roger.
The fairies bowed again, and kissed their hands, but none of them
spoke.
"We told the others, but they could not believe it," said
Rachael.
The fairies nodded their heads, with a quick understanding of the
difficulty.
"And oh!" cried Rachael, grown suddenly bold, "we do
so long to hear about the Silver Isle; we want Ruby to begin at
once."
At this, to her surprise, all the fairies put their fingers to their
lips and solemnly shook their heads.
Roger and Rachael were alarmed. "Oh, you don't mean she
mustn't tell us! Do you mean that?" they added anxiously.
The fairies nodded their heads.
"Oh dear!"
They were dreadfully disappointed. No time, however, was given for
remonstrance. After again nodding their heads, and this time with great
vigour, the fairies surrounded Ruby, and, jumping lightly on one
another's shoulders, made a ladder from the window to the ground.
Then the bearers of her chair climbed up with Ruby to the
window-sill, and she stepped from it into her room. When the
children had finished their greetings, the golden chair and every fairy had
disappeared.
When Ruby's mother opened her eyes, on the morning following the
dreadful day of anxiety, she saw
Ruby sleeping peacefully in her own little bed, with her dressing-gown, and one woolly slipper, placed neatly on the chair beside her.
"My dear child," cried Ruby's mother, as she ran
across the room and kissed her. "How strange and wonderful it is!
What has happened to you? What has happened to us all?"
Ruby opened her eyes and smiled.
"Good morning, mother."
"Ruby, Ruby, where have you been? Father and I have been greatly
troubled and alarmed. What has happened?"
Ruby sat up in bed. "I am so sorry you were frightened, mother; I
was quite safe all the time. Rachael and Roger knew I wanted to see the
Silver Isle. I am so sorry, I mustn't tell them about it; if I do I
can never go there again."
"Dear little Ruby, I don't want you ever to go there again!
I could not endure another such day."
"But, mother, I haven't seen it all--not nearly
all--there wasn't time. There are so many wonderful things to
see and learn in the Silver Isle, and the fairies are so kind and careful,
no harm can come to me. Please, mother, don't be anxious! I wish I
could tell you all about it, then you would not mind; it is such a
beautiful place. Please, please don't say you do not want me to go
there again."
And Ruby, who never cried with disappointment, looked at her mother with
eyes full of tears.
Ruby's mother was much distressed. She went on to the landing, and
called Ruby's father from the sitting-room below. He had
wandered by the sea all night, and had come in, not long ago, tired out
with his fruitless search. When the fairies were dancing through the barley
with Ruby, Ruby's father was far away down the coast; but had he been
in the barley-field he would not have seen her. He came upstairs
quickly, and took his little daughter in his arms.
"My dear child, where have you been?"
"To the Silver Isle, father. I was quite safe; but I must not tell
you about it, if I do I cannot go there again. You don't think me
selfish do you, father, not to tell you? I do so much want to go
back."
"Go back!" Ruby's father stared at Ruby in
bewilderment. Then he looked at Ruby's mother for an explanation, but
Ruby's mother only shook her head.
"No, no," she said decidedly; "I do not understand
about this Silver Isle, but, whatever it is, and wherever it is, Ruby must
never go away again as she did yesterday; we could not bear it."
Roger and Rachael came in as she spoke. "Well, Ruby," they
said, "are you rested?"
"Yes; quite rested, and ready to get up." Ruby made a brave
effort to hide her disappointment.
"My dear," said her mother, "you must not get up
before breakfast, you are not strong enough yet, for a long day."
"I am quite strong since yesterday," explained Ruby.
"I am quite well since yesterday--the fairies made me quite
well--you will see I shall not be tired."
And when Ruby's mother examined her carefully, she saw that her
looks, this morning, were quite different from those of the day before
yesterday. She really did look quite well. Her eyes were as clear and
bright, and her cheeks as rosy, as Roger's and Rachael's.
"And see, mother." She put out her arms and legs; and the
arms and legs which had been, the day before yesterday, poor little thin
arms and legs; were, this morning, round and plump as they should be.
"Do let me get up!"
"Very well." Ruby's mother was more and more
astonished.
"It is very strange," she said downstairs, when breakfast
was brought in, and Ruby appeared with the others, bright and brisk and
full of spirits,--Ruby who had been a pale, tired little girl, for so
many weeks.
"It is very strange," said the maids in the kitchen, when,
after breakfast, they heard Ruby running about the cottage.
"It is very strange," thought Ruby's father, as he sat
outside in the garden; but he did not say anything, he only sat there and
smoked. As for the milkman, and the baker, who came up the garden with the
day's provisions, and the butcher, who had supplied
gallons of beef tea, and the manager of the Post-office emporium, who had brought constant boxes of grapes from kind and distant friends, and the woman who had brought dozens of new-laid eggs, to be beaten up with brandy and milk,--they all declared, with astonishment, that Miss Ruby's sudden recovery was "past them altogether, but they was right down glad to see her about again, strange or no."
The news of Ruby's return, and complete cure, spread rapidly
through the village: and, immediately after breakfast, many visitors
presented themselves at Sea-thrift, hoping to hear the story of her
day-and-night adventure.
One old man brought her a big bunch of roses, another a bundle of
lavender, a third brought her an enormous basket of plums, big enough to
keep a family in plum pies for a month. Ruby thanked each of them
delightedly.
"How kind of you," she said. "I am quite well now,
thank you, and I should so much like to tell you about my adventures, but I
mustn't."
Quite a crowd of villagers had collected, before Charlie and Ethel came
round. They were standing in rows along the low garden-wall, the
front row having its elbows firmly established on the top of the wall. Ruby
was talking to each in turn, and assuring each of her complete
recovery.
"You will have to tell them about the Silver Isle,"
whispered her mother; "they will stay here until you do! But I
don't suppose they would
be-
lieve your story if you told it," she added, smiling. "I can't be sure that I should myself." She kissed Ruby's cheek lightly. She was so happy at having her child well and gay once more.
"Ruby!" cried Ethel, as she opened the gate, and Ruby ran to
meet her.
"Well, Ruby," said Charlie, following, "did you have a
good time?"
"Oh yes; a lovely time!"
"That's right. And how are you?"
"Quite, quite well."
"Yes; so you are. Come, this is evidence: here is your
slipper." He gave Ruby the woolly shoe he had picked up in the
barley-field.
"It is very strange," began Ethel.
"Oh, please, don't say that," interrupted Ruby,
laughing; "everyone has been saying that--father and mother and
all of them." She turned towards the audience along the wall.
"It isn't really strange at all."
"Let us come indoors, then the crowd will disperse, and you can
tell Charlie and me quietly by ourselves."
"Yes; let us go in, but I cannot tell you about it, Ethel; I am so
sorry. If I tell you or anyone about the Silver Isle, I can never go
back."
"Dear Ruby, we don't want you to go back. You must never,
never go away again, as you did yesterday."
"Ethel!"
Ruby's father followed them into the cottage.
"No; you must never go away as you did yesterday, Ruby; we were
very anxious and unhappy."
"O mother, were you very very unhappy?" asked
Ruby, as they went into the parlour.
"Very."
"And you, father?"
Her father nodded his head, and smoothed some of the wrinkles out of his
forehead.
Then Ruby looked serious and thoughtful. Roger and Rachael came and sat
quietly beside her. They were very eager to hear of Ruby's adventures
in the Silver Isle, but anxious she should not deprive herself of future
visits, so they sat quietly beside her and said nothing.
Ruby sat with her elbows on the table, and her chin supported on her
hands. It was her favourite position when she had a difficult problem to
solve. So absorbed was she, she did not notice a tall figure come up the
garden, nor hear the door open, nor see the white-haired
doctor's smile as he looked at her.
"Well, Ruby, you are safely back, I see." Ruby roused
herself.
"Yes, yes; and I am quite strong again now. Isn't it
nice?"
"Capital." He sat down and looked at her critically.
"Yes; you are quite well. You must tell us how it
happened."
Ruby slipped suddenly from her chair to her mother's knee.
"You shall not be anxious about me again, mother," she said.
"I have made up my mind to tell you."
As she spoke, the robin looked in from the window sill, and chirped a
few notes of encouragement. When he had finished, Ruby began her story of
the Silver Isle.
"Who came, my child?" interrupted her mother, as she stroked
Ruby's hair.
"The fairies, while you were asleep, dear mother," said
Ruby. "They came in the early grey morning, and took me across the
barley-field to the sea; and then the sea fairies led me down to
their boat, and we set off as the sunshine began. At first the sea fairies
came with me, and played round the boat; but soon the wind grew so strong,
and carried the boat along so quickly, they could not keep up; so they lay
back upon the water, and the waves covered them. Then for a long time I saw
only miles and miles of blue water, and the boat dashed on faster and
faster, until I was out of breath. I had to hold the sides of the boat, I
couldn't steer it a bit."
"Were you not afraid of being upset?" asked Rachael.
"I never thought of being upset," said Ruby; "but I
wanted to look about; and we went so fast, I could not see anything for the
spray, and sun and wind."
"Like a trip in a life-saving apparatus," suggested
Roger.
"After a time," continued Ruby, "the wind went down,
and I looked back to see the land, but there was no land anywhere, there
was nothing but the sea and the sky, and sunshine. Then suddenly I saw a
great cloud overhead, that came nearer and nearer and lower and lower,
until I thought it was going to fall upon me. It broke just above the top
of the sail, and from it a flock of white swans fell lightly into the
waves, and came swimming round me. They guided my boat into smooth water,
where the waves broke only in gentle ripples, and we sailed along slowly
for some time. Then by-and-by I heard overhead a great
singing of birds."
"What kind of birds? " asked Rachael eagerly.
"Every kind I knew, and ever so many I did not know; they gathered
from every part of the sky. Then they all made a great flight together, and
swept along in front of me across the sea, singing all the time. I heard
their song long after I could see them. The singing kept in front, growing
fainter and fainter until it ceased altogether, and, as it ceased, I saw
the Silver Isle."
Roger and Rachael leaned forward eagerly as Ruby paused.
"Yes, yes," they exclaimed; "did it come up suddenly
out of the sea? Do go on."
"No; it didn't come up out of the sea. It had been in its
place all the time, but the light about it was so bright I could not see
through. When the song of the birds died away, the light lifted like a
veil, and behind it the cliffs of the Silver Isle glistened like precious
stones. It was a big, little island," said Ruby, in answer to their
questioning eyes, "and its cliffs were high and steep, and ran right
down to the water. There was no sand or beach, or landing place, as there
is here, but all along the shore were birds flying in and out of the rocks
and deep caves; and the rocks shone like pearls, and the caves looked like
great sapphire stones hiding among the pearls. As my boat drew near a fairy
figure stepped down the side of the cliff. 'Welcome, Ruby,' she
said, and held out her hand. The boat answered to it quickly, and sailed to
the spot where she stood. I jumped up, thinking she was there to help me
land, but, when I held out my hand to her, she pointed to the water and
said: 'One deep dive, Ruby, to make you quite well before you
come ashore.' I looked into the water and wondered how I should do
it, the sea was so deep and blue. As I looked she said again:
'Those who come to the Silver Isle must obey its rules, if they would
land upon its shore,' so I shut my eyes and jumped. Oh
dear,"--Ruby shut her eyes tightly at the
recollection,--"it was such a long, long way down, I thought I
should never come up again. I kept my eyes shut all the time, and, when at
last I came to the top, my boat had gone, but at the edge of the rock stood
the shining figure. As she held out both hands to me I recognised her face;
she was
the beautiful lady of the well. I felt quite safe then. She carried me up the cliff and gave me fairy clothes to wear, all bright and soft and shining; then she clapped her hands, and hundreds of fairies came running towards me, and made me dance with them in a great circle round the island. While we danced the beautiful lady moved about among the flowers.
"The isle was like a big garden, but the flowers and fruits in it
were different from any I had ever seen before. Their colours were more
beautiful, and their shapes more delicate. There were trees, and lawns, and
paths winding between hedges of ripe fruits, and arbours of
sweet-smelling blossoms, and fresh fountains playing and sparkling,
and all the time I could see the sea shining beyond the rocks.
"Very soon the beautiful lady called me to her side, where she
stood in the middle of the isle, and as I ran to her the fairies hid away
again.
"Then she told me the Silver Isle was set there, far away in the
sea, for her wandering birds. 'For my wanderers,' she said,
'who cannot bear the winter's cold, but fly after the sunshine,
this is their resting-place--this is the garden at which they
rest when they cross the seas.' She lifted one hand as she spoke,
and, from the rocks and caves, the birds flew up like leaves blown by a
sudden wind. When I asked her how they found the isle, she asked me how I
found it, and, of course, I did not know. Then she laughed, and said:
'Neither do the birds know; it does not matter so long as they do
find it.' She said some of the birds lived always on the
isle--the weak ones, and those who had grown too tired to keep up with the others, on their longer journeys. I sat beside her, and she told me many wonderful things about their songs and travels. I cannot remember half the things she told me." Ruby looked dreamily out of the window. "But she said it would not matter if I forgot: I should remember again when needful.
"By-and-by she stood up and spread out her hands
towards the sea, and as she did so the North Wind came flying over the
water. He looked very big as he came towards us. His face was hidden in a
great grey mantle, and his wings, as he spread them, swept away all the
colour from the sea; but he moved very gently. As soon as his feet touched
the isle, he came and sat beside me at the beautiful lady's feet.
Then she put her hand on his cloak and drew it away from his face, and his
eyes were so bright and blue and twinkling, and his smile so kind, and he
looked so strong, I began to think of our very nicest, oldest friends; and
to wonder who of them all he most resembled. The beautiful lady answered my
thought as I wondered.
"'He himself is an old friend,' she said, and she
again put her hand upon his mantle. 'Show her,' she said to
him; 'Ruby will remember.'
"Then the North Wind rose, and looked across the water, and
breathed some words through the air; and out of the air came the heroes of
the northern seas, in shining coats of mail, with gleaming, winged helmets
on their heads, and battle-axes in their hands; and the sails of
their ships filled with the breath that he
breathed. The heroes sailed round and round the isle, singing of their deeds in olden times. Some of the tales I knew and some I did not know till then. They were such splendid heroes, so big and strong; and as the breath of the North Wind blew upon them more strongly, their eyes sparkled and their faces shone more brightly from their ships. But suddenly the North Wind spread his wings, and flew out to the heroes and gathered them all up in his arms: then he dropped with them gently into the sea. When they had disappeared, the beautiful lady again rose and stretched her hands over the sea, on the other side of the Isle: and as I watched to see what would happen, over the waves came the South Wind. Her trailing blue raiment, patterned with gold, shone gloriously as she came. Her wings were golden and flashed across the water, and in her hands were garlands of myrtle and olive.
"She, too, stepped gently upon the isle and came and sat beside me
at the beautiful lady's feet. Then, by-and-by, the
beautiful lady said to her:
"'Show Ruby, and Ruby will remember.' And, as the
North Wind had arisen, the South Wind arose, and stood by the sea and
breathed through the air.
"As she breathed, the heroes of the Greeks, Theseus and Jason and
Perseus, and all the mighty Trojan chiefs whom Roger loves, came sailing
about us. They carried spears and bucklers, and wore helmets with waving
plumes, and sang of the deeds we know so well. They were beautiful as they
moved about in the sunshine; but in a little while the South Wind, too,
rose and
spread her wings about the heroes and sank with them beneath the waves.
"Then I asked the beautiful lady what the East Wind could bring
us: and immediately, from the east, the sunshine spread like a cold
clear flame, and the isle was full of daffodils. Through all the grass they
shone, and at the beautiful lady's feet, and in her hair, and in the
folds of her mantle; then suddenly, as they had come, so they were gone.
When I asked for the West Wind, a rainbow shone in the sky, and a mist,
like dissolved opal, surrounded us. Pearly drops of moisture fell upon us,
and in the garden I smelt the sweet smell of ferns, and leaves, and woods,
and earthy things, and I said: 'She is the best of all,'
but the beautiful lady shook her head.
"'Each in turn is best,' she said.
"Then the West Wind rose as the others had risen: she was
taller and stronger than them all. As she spread her wings the isle
trembled.
"'Where shall I waft the Silver Isle? The seas are deep and
wide,' she said to the beautiful lady. But the beautiful lady
answered:
"'Let the isle this day abide in its place; depart gently as
you came.'
"The West Wind then bent her head and flew away lightly, up the
sky. Her raiment left a little ripple on the water as she passed.
"The beautiful lady rose and watched the waters, where the West
Wind passed over them, then she turned to me and said:
"'A day and a night, Ruby; and, see, the night is
coming.' She pointed to the clouds into which the West Wind had flown. Their colour was fading, and the light in the sky was growing dim.
"'A day and a night,' she repeated, and she drew me
nearer to her and wrapped me in the folds of her cloak. Then, as I closed
my eyes to think about Roger and Rachael, she pointed upwards, and I looked
and saw the night had begun; the clouds were gone, and the moon and stars
were shining in the sky."
"I wish you had asked some questions about the winds," said
Rachael at last.
"I didn't think of any," Ruby answered apologetically;
"and I thought I should go again very often and in time understand
everything."
"And if you hadn't told us," said Roger, "you
might have gone back. O Ruby, would you like not to tell us any more? Is it
too late now?"
"I shouldn't enjoy thinking about it alone," said
Ruby, "I would much, much rather tell you."
"Well," said Rachael, "please go on; what happened
when the stars came out? Was it cold?"
"No; not a bit, it was soft and warm under the beautiful
lady's cloak. The fairies crept out again from the flowers and trees,
and sang quietly, and danced slow minuet-like dances in the
moonlight. The beautiful
lady stroked my hair, and I think I was asleep for a long time.
"When I opened my eyes the fairies had again disappeared, and big
purple clouds floated between us and the sky. The isle was full of mists
and shadows, and the beautiful lady was walking to and fro among great
white flowers. She moved her hands as though she were weaving, and, as she
did so, pictures grew up out of the sea and out of the shadows of the isle,
and upon the clouds above us. She turned and saw me watching her, and told
me she was weaving dreams for the sleepers of that night. Then she came and
took me by the hand, and my fingers weaved with hers. I wished beautiful
dreams for Roger and Rachael, and father and mother: and the pictures
grew as I wished, and came floating landwards over the sea. Don't you
remember them?"
Everyone tried to remember, but without success.
"I wished such a sweet dream for you, mother. Can't you
remember it?"
Ruby's mother shook her head. "I cannot remember my
dream," she said, "but my sleep was deep and
beautiful."
"I expect all the dreams came to you, mother," said Roger,
"as father and Rachael and I did not go to bed. That was why you
slept so soundly."
"Were all the dreams, the beautiful lady weaved, nice ones?"
asked Rachael.
"Yes; no ugly ones are woven on the Silver Isle; they are made in
a land to which we need never go.
When they were all finished, the beautiful lady stepped down the rocks and lifted her head and sang softly, and as she sang flights of birds fell about her. They seemed to be shaken from the clouds that were drifting over the stars. She knelt down among them, and they fluttered their wings and waited for her to speak.
"'I shall show you the path to-morrow,' she
said to them, 'to-night you must rest.' And then they
all flew into the trees and caves, and sang their thanks, as we hear them
sing when the sun shines after rain.
"After this, mer-men and sea-maidens came up from
their homes in the deep water, and played in the pools among the rocks, and
every now and then a flock of sea-birds flew swiftly past.
"When the first streak of light showed in the sky, the beautiful
lady waved her hand to the mer-men and sea-maidens, and they
wished me good-bye.
"'Good-bye, Ruby,' they said;
'don't forget us.' And they slipped back into the deep
water. When they were gone, the fairies of the isle crept from the shadows,
and stood in a large company awaiting orders.
"'A day and a night in the Silver Isle,' said the
beautiful lady, pointing to the yellow streak in the east.
"'Please let me stay longer,' I said. 'The time
has gone so quickly.' But she repeated the verse and shook her
head.
"Then I begged her to let me come again, in the early mornings,
and she said it could be only on the
condition that I told no one what I had seen or heard in the Silver Isle. I promised to tell no one, but," Ruby added quickly, "I am sure the beautiful lady knew it would be too difficult a promise. She took both my hands in hers, and said:
"'Roger and Rachael will want to hear; your parents will be
troubled if they never know where you have been. Be careful of promises,
little Ruby.'
"As she spoke the silver boat came gliding out from the rocks, and
she lifted me into it in the early grey morning. I wished her
good-bye, but she said it was not to be a good-bye, I should
see her again very soon. Then the sails filled, and the boat ran along so
quickly I could not see her any more. I sailed swiftly through miles of
grey water, till we came to golden and crimson pools, and wells of sapphire
blue: and the light in the east lengthened and broadened, till the
cloud banks were broken down, and the sun climbed up out of the sea. As we
came to our shore, I saw the fairies waiting along the cliff, as they had
promised. They ran down to the water's edge, and helped me over the
sand and brought me home."
"Yes, yes; we know," cried Roger and Rachael. "And
what happened to the boat?"
"It sailed back across the sea."
"And for us," said Ruby's mother, kissing her,
"you have given up seeing these wonders again."
"You are glad I have told you, mother?"
"Yes; very glad."
Then Ruby slipped from her mother's knee, and the party sat in
silence for some time. At last Ethel rose
and said it was all very strange, at which remark Ruby laughed gaily.
Then Charlie rose. "I wish I could remember the dream you made for
me," he said to Ruby. "Can't I have it again?"
Ruby shook her head.
"Well, the great thing is that Ruby is now strong and well,"
said Ruby's father. Then he lit his pipe and walked up and down the
garden, pondering Ruby's tale.
"How do we know she is quite strong?" said
Ruby's mother.
"I'll soon find out," said Roger; and he darted at
Ruby and lifted her in his arms. "Of course, we must test her. Hold
tight, Ruby." And he rushed with her into the garden, pursued by
Rachael. He dropped Ruby on the lawn.
"Let's have a regular examination," said Rachael.
"We'll begin with running."
"Yes; that's capital. What about her weight, Roger?"
asked the doctor, coming out after them.
"She weighs too much," said Roger, rather breathlessly.
"She's as heavy as Rachael now."
"Come, that's evidence."
"Yes," responded Rachael; "but we don't know
exactly how much she weighed yesterday morning, do we?"
"Near enough."
The sports then began in earnest, umpired by Charlie. And although Ruby
did not, of course, win
all the prizes--the children insisted upon prizes, and Ruby's mother ransacked the cottage for suitable knick-knacks--she held her own, as she had never done before; being even with Rachael in several runs, and above her in jumping.
"You are much more springy than you were," exclaimed Roger
admiringly.
When the runs and jumps were over, there came a
tug-of-war, the doctor being pressed into the service to side
with Ruby; and, in spite of Roger's gallant struggle, Ruby and the
doctor won, and pulled Roger and Rachael over at each trial.
But, through all the excitement of the sports, Ethel sat indoors by
herself--thinking. She sat in the parlour, in spite of Charlie's
and Roger's entreaties, through the window, to cheer up and join
them; and when the sports came to an end, and the doctor went away, she
walked through the barley-field to the sea, and there sat down to
think again.
After dinner, when the children ran along the sand with their football,
they found her still sitting close to the sea; but now Charlie was near by,
painting busily.
"May we see?" cried Ruby, as they came up to him.
He turned his canvas towards them, and upon it was a picture of Ethel,
standing beside the sea, surrounded by a band of fairies, who pulled her
skirts and tried to make her look at them; but her head was turned
away.
"Poor Ethel," said Rachael; "how they pull."
"Why doesn't she turn her head?" asked Ruby.
"We'll come and ask her," said Charlie. They all ran
up to Ethel, and Charlie put his picture down in front of her. Ethel looked
at it, and laughed.
"It isn't a good portrait, is it?" Then she turned to
Ruby. "We must see the fairies at our own time, and in our own way,
mustn't we, Ruby? We can't be made to see them: but I
have finished thinking. Come, we will have a game while Charlie finishes
his picture. The fairies are very pretty."
"But they are not a bit like my fairies," said Ruby.
"I haven't seen your fairies," said Charlie
apologetically.
"You have been trying to paint them," said Ruby.
Charlie laughed now, and, in spite of their remonstrances, tore his
picture into little pieces.
"I must not paint Ruby's fairies until I have seen
them," he said, "and perhaps I shall never see them. We must be
content with those we see ourselves, mustn't we? And if we do not see
any ourselves, we must wait patiently."
"But you have seen some," said Rachael; "you have,
haven't you?" Charlie smiled.
"Perhaps--one cannot always remember--but come along,
let us have this game."
So they played, and they played; until the champion Ruby was tired, and
said they must rest.
"Does anyone remember," she asked, "that we go home
the day after to-morrow?"
The whole party started in alarmed surprise.
"No! Not so soon! Impossible! Must we really?"
"We must--really. To-day is Thursday, and schools
begin on Monday, our duty is clear."
"Oh dear!" cried Ruby.
"Oh dear!" cried Rachael.
"Oh bother!" said Roger.
Ethel and Charlie, who had just put in their heads through the window,
looked sympathetic.
"We must go home on Saturday too," they said, by way of
comfort.
Then Roger's spirits rose with a bound.
"Mother," he exclaimed delightedly, "we can't be
ready on Saturday--we haven't packed anything."
"Someone else has been doing that," came their
father's voice from behind the paper.
"O father! Well, we'll help directly we've finished
breakfast. How quickly the time has gone! It seems such a pity to leave
everything!" Roger looked at the flowers in the garden, and at all
the spreading country beyond. Then he turned to his breakfast with a
business-like air. "We must make a programme for the
day," he said. "Let me see--there are the bicycles to
clean--I suppose they ought to be cleaned," he
added doubtfully; "then there is the tent to take down, and the boat
to bring up."--Roger's handiwork still went by this name,
although it had ceased to maintain any but an inverted position in the
water. "And we must say good-bye to our friends."
"We must go in the afternoon to see our dear doctor," said
Ruby; "he does not know we are leaving so soon."
The programme being settled, they all, after breakfast, busied
themselves greatly; and, owing to their extraordinary exertions, the
bicycles were cleaned, the tent taken down, The Recruit
dragged up and
stowed away in the woodshed, and a bathe squeezed in, before dinner-time.
"You have worked nobly," said Charlie, looking in early in
the afternoon, on his way to the Post-office for
luggage-labels, a strong cord, and other articles significant of
departure.
After dinner, as had been arranged, they set off to bid the doctor
good-bye. Roger and Rachael rode their freshly-cleaned
bicycles, but Ruby, not having a bicycle or being able to ride one,
accompanied them in a donkey-chair. The children had frequently been
assured by the donkey's mistress, that that donkey was "as
quick as lightning to go," so they decided to test its speed on this
occasion.
"We can ride on either side," said Roger, "and if he
goes too fast, we'll hold on to the sides of the chair, and act as
drags. Ruby can drive, there's no traffic along the road, and a hedge
on either side to fall into, so we're quite safe." And, as soon
as Charlie passed on to the Post-office, the children set out with
the lightning steed.
The steed did not justify his character even at first. He did, indeed,
start off in high spirits with the bicycles, and for a few yards closely
followed them, but as soon as the party turned from the main road into the
blackberry lane, he became depressed. His loss of spirits may have been
caused by the length of straight road suddenly presented to his view, or he
may have started with the idea of following some plan of his own; whatever
was the reason, as soon
as they turned into the blackberry lane, he stopped, and refused to move.
Ruby used all the driver's art she had ever seen, or heard, or
read of, to persuade him to change his mind and pursue his course. She
called him by name, cheerfully and severely; she jerked and shook the reins
until her arms ached; and at last she got out of her chair and tried to
reason with him.
Of course, as we all know, one cannot reason successfully with
determined obstinacy ; and, when this last plan of Ruby's failed, she
sat down in her carriage, feeling very helpless and disappointed. Roger and
Rachael were ever so far away down the blackberry lane, speeding happily
onward: the steed had made so fine a start, they took for granted
that he was following in the same style.
"They might look round to make sure," thought Ruby, as the
riders grew smaller in the distance; and, just as they began to look like
two black dots upon the road, they did stop and look round. They came
racing back.
"What has happened? What is the matter?" they asked
breathlessly. "What are you stopping for?"
"He won't go any more," explained Ruby, rather
dismally; "I expect I'd better turn back and let you go without
me."
"Nonsense," said Roger, "I think I can make him go.
Here, Rachael, hold my wheel and we'll see!"
Roger handed his bicycle to Rachael, and rushed at the steed in so
threatening a manner that the
creature plunged violently forward, and set off at a hand gallop, with the chair and Ruby swaying from side to side behind him. Roger ran excitedly beside them.
"He's all right now," he gasped. "I'll go
back for the wheel."
"I'm afraid I don't like it quite so fast,"
began Ruby, as Roger dropped behind; but, before she could finish her
sentence, the lightning steed twitched his right ear, and came once more to
a dead stop.
When Roger and Rachael came up again, Ruby was nearly in tears with
disappointment.
"I did think I could drive a donkey," she said; "we
shall never get there at this rate."
"Don't trouble!" cried Roger cheerfully;
"I'll ride at his head and keep him up to the mark that
way." So Roger rode at the steed's head, and, by his masterful
manner, threatening voice, and occasional reminder with a stick, obliged
him to keep up a fairly good pace till the doctor's house was
reached.
"Thank you," said Ruby, as she stepped out; "I hope he
will be better going home."
"It has been rather a noisy drive hasn't it?" said
Rachael. "Roger's throat must be sore."
"Not a bit," said Roger huskily; "but I shall want an
explanation from his owner when we get back."
By the time they had fastened the steed to a post, the doctor was at his
gate giving them a welcome.
"So you've come to bid me good-bye," he said,
smiling; "that is nice of you."
"Did you know we were going to-morrow?" asked
Rachael.
The doctor smiled. "A little bird told me."
"Was it our robin? He has not told us anything for a long
time."
"It was one of my own birds," said the doctor, smiling
again. "I have a great many, as you hear." And as the children
walked down the path to the doctor's lawn, they heard a chorus of
birds in the trees around it.
"How beautifully they sing," said Ruby; "but my
robin's song--"
"Ah, your robin has been a useful friend," said the
doctor.
Then, when tea came, the children asked him endless questions about his
flowers and birds, and the creatures that strayed into his garden; and they
gave a graphic account of the behaviour of the lightning steed, and
besought the doctor never on any account to hire it.
During a short pause, that occurred between the plain cake and the fancy
cakes, Rachael asked if the doctor remembered the day of their arrival at
Sea-thrift--the very first day of the holidays--when he
had told them they would find fairies in this part of the country.
The doctor said, of course he remembered.
"Will you tell us how you knew?" she asked again.
"Have you been to the Silver Isle, or met the beautiful
lady?"
The doctor smiled, and shook his head.
"Supposing I had been once, and might not tell
without forfeiting the right to go again, would you think me very selfish in not telling?"
"No, no, no!" they all cried; "of course we should not
think you selfish; of course you must not tell us."
"But I don't say I have been to the Silver Isle, or seen any
fairies," said the doctor, "and I don't say that I
haven't," he added, with a twinkle in his eyes. "In any
case, it is kind of you to forgive me for wanting to keep such knowledge to
myself. There are fairies, you know, all over the world for young people,
but for old people--they can be found in only one place."
Ruby put her hand in his. "I am sure you see them, that is why you
look so kind and happy."
The doctor did not answer; he just passed the fancy cakes round
again.
When tea was finished, and the garden several times explored, the
children said good-bye.
"We shall meet again next year," they said to him at the
gate.
"Well, well, I hope so; a year is a long time."
"Oh, not so very long," said Ruby; "but won't
you come and see us at home?"
"What would become of my poor patients?"
"We could send someone else to take care of them."
"A locum tenens," said
Rachael, with a grand air, remembering the abstracted young man who had
come one day at home, instead of their own cherished doctor.
"Yes; do come," they begged. And they begged until Ruby was
seated in her chaise, and the others on their bicycles, and they left
saying that they should
send him an invitation to their Christmas party, and he must come.
On the return journey the lightning character of the steed was at last
discovered. At the first shaking of the reins, it set off and headed for
home, not at the wild hand gallop of the earlier part of the day, but at a
quick, even trot, which showed a determination to get over the ground
without break or hindrance.
"We shall have to settle down like that to lessons on
Monday," said Roger, when they stopped at their own gate.
Rachael stroked the steed affectionately.
"Compared with his conduct at starting, this may, of course, be
called a lightning speed; but I think we ought to tell Mrs Brown we think
she exaggerated."
So they galloped the steed round to his owner, and gave her their kind,
but conscientious, opinion of his character.
Sea-thrift was astir early next morning, for, in spite of the
united family exertions, many things had been left unfinished the night
before.
Ruby was awakened, as of old, by the robin. He was standing on the
window-sill, singing sweetly. She listened attentively, and,
although she could distinguish no words this morning, she knew he was
bidding her good-bye, and a happy year, till she came again.
"You will be here, won't you?" she said, getting out
of bed and going to the window.
The robin, for answer, hopped on her shoulder and sang more sweetly than
before.
"You little dear," she said, "I wish you would come
home with us! Can't you come home with us? It is not as nice a one as
this, but there is a garden at home, with trees and bushes,
and you will be quite free."
But at the mere suggestion of such a thing the robin ceased singing, and
flew away to his old perch over the well.
Ruby leaned out of the window in great distress. "Come
back," she cried, "please come back; I won't ask you to
come home with us any more."
But he did not come back, and Ruby began to dress rather sadly.
Presently she looked out of the window again.
"I have thought of a nice plan for you," she said
cheerfully. "I will show you what it is as soon as I come
out."
She completed her toilet quickly, and ran downstairs to the parlour. She
took a small wooden box from the cupboard. It was a deep box, with half its
lid left to it, and it was full of fine hay. A glass bowl had been
carefully packed and sent in it from home. Ruby ran into the garden. The
robin was still singing on the well.
"Do you see this little box?" she said, showing it to him,
"I shall put it in the shed, it will make a warm bed for you in the
winter. There is a hole in the roof of the wood-shed, and a little
shelf near the hole, just big enough for the box." Ruby ran into the
shed, and put the little box on the shelf near the hole in the roof. When
she had done this, the robin flew in through the hole and hopped into the
box, to show her he under-
stood: then he sang cheerfully for a few minutes, and flew away again.
Oh, how busy everyone was that morning at Sea-thrift! Father and
mother, Ethel and Charlie, Roger and Rachael and Ruby, and the maids in the
kitchen, were all strapping and cording and labelling, until Mr Blogg drove
up in his big cart for the luggage. Then, of course, many forgotten friends
came, at the last moment, to say good-bye. The setters, and the
foxhound puppy, came for a last petting from Rachael; and, after a safe
interval, the big tabby cat and fluffy Persian kitten, dropped over the
wall from the coastguards' garden, and purred round her legs; and,
just as they were all packed safely into the trap, Mrs Mayes came up the
loke with cuttings from her garden for Roger.
At last, after several false starts, they set off, along the sunny road,
and up and down the green lanes, to the station. As they drove along, and
looked across the beautiful great stretch of country to the sea, they all
felt sad at having to change this space and freedom, for streets and
squares and parks. The drive was silent until they reached the little hill
close to the station. Here a chirping in the elms made them look up.
"It is the robin," cried Ruby; "look, Rachael, look,
Roger, he has come to see us off."
And the robin darted along from branch to branch, his red breast
flashing in the sun. On the last elm he stopped and trilled his farewell
notes.
"Good-bye," cried the children; "please be here
to meet us when we come again."
And he fluttered his wings, and sang a few notes by way of promise; then
he flew back along the road through the elms.
At the station another friend waited to bid them good-bye. As
their waggonette rattled over the stones, the doctor stepped out of the
booking-office, and opened the door for them.
"Oh, how kind of you to come," they said; "how did you
know we should go by this train?"
"Another little bird." Then he helped them out, and carried
some of their packages.
"The train is full of children," he said, "all going
back to school after the holidays. I wonder if many of them have had as
good a time as you?" he whispered to Ruby.
"I hope so," she answered; "don't you think they
have?"
"Perhaps; we'll hope so, at anyrate; and if they
haven't, the wish may help them another time."
Then the train began to move.
"Good-bye--good-bye."
"Be sure you come to stay with us," said Roger.
"Please don't forget," said Rachael;
"we'll write and tell you all about the trains, and meet you at
the station."
The doctor laughed, and kissed his hand to them; and as the train
steamed away there was a great waving of hats and hands, and handkerchiefs.
Then the doctor turned homewards, and the train steamed
faster and faster, back to the great station it had left seven weeks before.
I am not going to tell you what they did when they reached home; enough
that they arrived there safely, and were soon happily busy in the old
routine, with lessons and school companions; and Ruby kept well and strong
as the others. There is much to tell about their home life, but I shall not
tell it. The three Rs belonged especially to Sea-thrift, for they
were never so happy as in its fragrant garden, and beside its sunny sea.
But the beautiful lady watched them in their town home; their footsteps
followed hers through many an autumn day, when the wind brought down the
chestnuts from the park trees, and the brown leaves lay in heaps under the
beeches. Through the winter days, too, she walked beside them in her snowy
mantle, and they knew how to find the beauties and wonders to which she
pointed. And when the spring time came round, ah! who shall say what
sweetness and promise she showed them, in every square and garden, and plot
of ground. I must not tell of this--it belongs to another
story--and this story has to do only with Sea-thrift.
Sea-thrift grows by the summer
sea,
Till the summer's close,
On the
grassy cliff, 'neath a radiant sky,
While sun and summer and
wind go by,
Sea-thrift blows and
blows.