Tell Me a Story

by Mrs. Molesworth

what becomes of thingsup there in that world of yours--where do the leaves and the flowers andthe butterflies go to--eh?"

  "But they are only _things_," persisted Con, "they have no--"

  "_Hush_!" screamed Frisken, "how can you be so ill-mannered? come along,the music is beginning; they are waiting for us to dance."

  But it was with a heavy heart that Con joined the dance. He wasbeginning to be very tired of this beautiful fairyland, and to wish verymuch that he could go home to the cottage on the mountain, to his fatherand mother, even to his lessons! A shudder ran through him as old talesthat he had heard or read, and scarcely understood, returned to hismind--of children stolen by the fairies who _never_ went home again tilltoo late, and who then in despair returned to their beautiful prison tobecome all that was left to them to be, fairies themselves, _things_,like the flowers and the butterflies--supposing already it was too latefor him? quickly as the time had passed, for all he knew, he had been acentury in fairyland!

  But he had to dance and to sing and to play incessantly like the others.He must not let them suspect his discontent or he would lose all chanceof escape. He watched his opportunity for getting more information outof Frisken.

  "Do you never go `up there?'" he asked him once, using the fairy wordfor the world he had left, "for a change you know, and to play tricks onpeople--that must be such fun."

  Frisken nodded his head mysteriously. He was delighted to see what aregular elfin Con was growing.

  "Sometimes," he said. "It's all very well for a little while, but Icouldn't stay there long. The air is so thick--ugh--and the cold andthe darkness! You wouldn't believe, would you, now that you know whatit's like down here, that fairies have been known to go up there and to_stay_ by their own choice--to become clumsy, miserable, short-livedmortals?"

  "What made them?" said Con.

  "Oh, a stupid idea that if they stayed up there they would have thechance of growing into--oh, nonsense, don't let us talk of anything sodisagreeable. Come and have some games."

  But Con persisted. He had discovered that when he got Frisken all tohimself he had a strange power of _forcing_ him to answer his questions.

  "Was old Nance once down here?" he asked suddenly. Frisken wriggled.

  "What if she was?" he said, "she's not worth speaking about."

  "Why did she go up there?" said Con.

  "She was bewitched," answered Frisken. "I cannot think why you like totalk about such stupid things. You have forgotten about things upthere; luckily for you you came down here before you had learnt much.Did you ever hear talk of a stupid thing they call `love' up there?That took her up, and then she stayed because she got more nonsense inher head."

  "_I_ love my mother and my father," said Con stoutly.

  "Nonsense," said Frisken, "you make me feel sick. You must forget allthat. Come along and make a tree."

  But Con did not forget. He thought about it all constantly, and heunderstood much that he had never dreamt of before. He grew to detesthis life among the fairies, and to long and plan for escape. But how tomanage it he had no notion; which was the way "up" the fairies carefullyconcealed from him, and he had no clue to guide him.

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  "Nance! Nance! are you there? O dear Nance! do let me out, and take mehome to my mother again. O Nance! Nance!"

  It was Con. He had managed to escape from Frisken and the others,amusing themselves in the treasure caves, and had made his way along anarrow winding passage in the rock, with a vague idea that as it went"up" it would perhaps prove to be a way out of fairyland. He had passedthe little cave where Nance had warmed him by the fire, and the sight ofit had brought back a misty feeling that Nance had had something to dowith that night's adventures. Now he was standing at the end of thepassage, the way was stopped by a great wall of rock, he could go nofarther. In an agony of fear lest his fairy jailers should overtakehim, he beat upon the rock and cried for his old friend's help. Forsome time he got no answer, then suddenly, just as he fancied he heardthe rush of the elves behind him in hot pursuit, he caught the sound ofhis own name whispered softly through the rocky door.

  "Connemara," a voice said, "I will strike the door three times, butstand back or it may crush you."

  He crept back into a corner and listened for the taps. One, two, three,and the tremendously heavy door of stone rolled back without a sound,and in a moment Con was back in the stupid old world again! There stoodNance; she put her arms round him and kissed him without speaking. Then"run home, Connemara," she said, "run home fast, and do not linger.There is light enough to see the way, and there will soon be more."

  "But come with me, dear Nance. I want to tell you all about it. Comehome with me and I will tell mother you saved me."

  But Nance shook her head. "I cannot," she said, sorrowfully; "run home,I entreat you."

  He obeyed her, but turned to look back when he had run a little way.Nance was no longer there.

  It was early morning, but it was winter time. The ground was coveredwith snow beginning to sparkle in the red light of the rising sun. Thedear old sun! How glad Con was to see his round face again. The worldlooked just the same as when he had left it, but suddenly a dreadfulfear seized Con. How would he find all at home? How long had he beenaway? Could it be a hundred years, or fifty, or even only seven, what aterrible change he would find. He thought of "little Bridget" in theballad, and shivered. He was almost afraid to open the garden door andrun in. But everything looked the same; and, yes--there to his delightwas old Evan the gardener already at work, apparently no older than whenlast he had seen him--it must be all right, Evan was _so_ old, that tosee him there at all told that no great time could have passed.

  "You've come home early this morning, Master Con," he said. "Master andMissis came back last night in all that storm, but they weren'tfrightened about you, as they had the message that you had stayed atschool."

  "What do you mean, Evan--what message? Who said I had stayed atschool?" "_Last night_--could it have been only _last night_," hewhispered to himself.

  "A little boy brought the message, the queerest little chap you eversaw--not as big as you by half hardly, but speaking quite like a man. Imet him myself on my way home, and turned back again to tell. What arough night it was to be sure!"

  Feeling as if he were dreaming, Con turned to the house. There on thedoorstep stood his mother, looking not a little astonished at seeinghim.

  "Why, Con, dear," she exclaimed, "you _have_ come over early thismorning. Did you get home-sick in one night?"

  But Con had flung his arms round her neck, and was kissing her_dreadfully_. "O mother, mother! I _am_ so glad to see you again," hecried.

  "You queer boy. Why, I declare he has tears in his eyes!" his motherexclaimed. "Why, Con, dear, you seem as if you had been away a yearinstead of a night."

  "I will tell you all about it, mother. But, oh! please, why did you tieup my sleeves with green ribbon before I was christened?"

  His mother stared. "Now who could have told you that, child?" she said."It was silly of me, but I only did it to tease old nurse, who was fullof fancies. Besides the days of fairy stealings are over, Con, though Ihave often thought nurse would have been alarmed if she had known howfull of fairy fancies you were, my boy."

  "Mother, mother! listen, it is _quite_ true," said Con, and he hastenedto pour out the story of his wonderful adventure. His mother _did_ lookastonished, but naturally enough she _could_ not believe it. She wouldhave it he had fallen asleep at old Nance's cottage and dreamt it all.

  "But who was the boy that brought the message then?" said Con. "I_know_ he was a fairy."

  And his mother could not tell what to say.

  "I know what to do," he went on; "will you come with me to Nance'scottage and ask _her_?" and to this his mother agreed.

  And that very morning to the old woman's cottage they went. It was inperfect order as usual,
not a speck of dust to be seen; the little bedmade, and not a stool out of its place. But there was no fire burningin the little hearth--and no Nance to be seen. Con ran all about,calling her, but she had utterly disappeared. He threw himself on theground, sobbing bitterly.

  "She has gone back to them instead of me--to prevent them coming afterme," he cried, "and oh! she will be so unhappy."

  And nothing that his mother could say would console him.

  But a night or two afterwards the boy had a dream, or a vision, whichcomforted him. He thought he saw Nance; Nance with her kind, strangesmile, and she told him not