An Enchanted Garden: Fairy Stories

by Mrs. Molesworth

doesn't care to stay," said Jem, dolefully.

  Later in the day I met the children's mother trudging home. She lookedtired; but she had a basket on her arm, so I hoped the farmer's wife hadgiven them some scraps which would help them for the time.

  Now I had a plan in my head. Late that afternoon, after flying allround the Manor House and peeping in at a great many windows, I perchedin the ivy--there was ivy over a great part of the walls--just outsideone on the first floor. It was the children's bedroom. I waitedanxiously, afraid that I might have no chance of getting in; butfortunately for me the fire smoked a little when it was lighted in theevening for the young ladies to be dressed by, and the nurse opened thewindow a tiny bit, so in I flew, very careful not to be seen, you may besure. I found a very cosy corner on the edge of a picture in a darkpart of the room, and there I had time for a nap before Norna and Ivycame to bed. Then when all was silent for the night, I flew down andtook up my quarters on the rail at the head of Norna's bed; and when Ihad spent an hour or so beside her, I gently fluttered across to hersister; and though I was chirping nearly all the time, my voice was solow that no one entering the room would have noticed it; or if they haddone so, they would probably have thought it a drowsy cricket, halfaroused by the pleasant warmth of the fire.

  But my chirping did more than soothe my little friends' slumbers (andhere the robin cocked his head afresh and looked very solemn). Children(he said), human beings know very little about themselves. You don'tknow, for instance, anything at all about yourselves when you're asleep,or what dreams really are. You speak of being "sleepy," or half-asleep,as if it meant something very stupid; whereas, sometimes when you arewhole asleep, you are much wiser than when you are awake. Now it is notmy business to teach you things you're perhaps not meant to understandat present, but this I can tell you--if I perched on your pillows atnight when you're asleep, and chirped in my own way to you, you'd haveno difficulty in understanding me. And this was what happened to thetwo little maidens a few nights before their first Christmas in England.They thought they had had a wonderful dream--each of them separately,and they never knew that the robin who flew out of the window early inthe morning before any one noticed him, had had anything to do with it.

  I (for it was I myself, of course) perched again in the ivy beside thedining-room window, _partly_, I allow, with a view to breakfast; partlyand principally to see what would happen.

  They did not forget me--us, perhaps I should say, for several otherbirds collected on the terrace, thanks to the news I had scatteredabout--and as soon as those within had risen from table, Miss Meadowsand her two little companions came to the window, which they opened, andthrew out a splendid plateful of crumbs. It was not so cold thismorning. I hopped close to them, for I wanted to hear what they weresaying as they stood by the open window-door, all the grown-up peoplehaving left the room.

  The pale little faces looked bright and eager, and very full ofsomething their owners were relating.

  "Yes, Miss Meadows; it was quite wonderful. Ivy dreamed it, and Idreamed it. I believe it was a fairy dream."

  "And please do let us try to find out if there are any poor childrenlike that near here," said Ivy. "I don't think there _could_ be; doyou, Miss Meadows?"

  Miss Meadows shook her head.

  "I'm afraid, dear, it is not uncommon in either town or country to findchildren quite as poor as those you dreamt of. But when we go out awalk to-day, we'll try and inquire a little. It would be nice if youcould do something for other people even this first Christmas inEngland."

  She looked quite bright and eager herself; and as the three started offdown the drive about an hour later, on their way to the village, Inoticed that they were all talking eagerly, and that Norna and Ivy weregiving little springs as they walked along one on each side of theirkind governess; and I must confess I felt pleased to think I had hadsome hand in this improvement.

  Miss Meadows had lived most of her life in the country, and she wasaccustomed to country ways. So she meant to go to the village, andthere try to pick up a little information about any of the families whomight be very poor this Christmas time. But I had no intention ofletting them go so far--no indeed--I knew what I was about.

  The cottage of my little friends, Joyce and Jem, was about half-waybetween the Manor House and the village, and the village was a good milefrom the great house. A lane led from the high road to the cottage.Just as the three reached the corner of the lane, Ivy gave a little cry.

  "Miss Meadows, Norna," she said, "there is the robin. I'm sure it's ourrobin. Don't you think it is, Miss Meadows?"

  The governess smiled.

  "There are a great many robins, Ivy dear. It's not very likely it's thesame one. We human beings are too stupid to tell the difference betweenbirds of the same kind, you see."

  But, as _you_ know, Ivy was right.

  "Do let's follow him a little way down the lane," she said. "He keepshopping on and then looking back at us. I wonder if his home is downhere."

  No, it was not _my_ home, but it was my little friends' home; and soon Imanaged to bring the little party to a standstill before the cottagegate, where I had perched.

  "What a nice cottage," said Norna; and so it looked at the first glance.But in a moment or two she added: "Oh, do look at that little girl; howvery thin and pale she is!"

  It was Joyce. Miss Meadows called to her; and in her kind way soon gotthe little girl to tell her something of their troubles. Things wereeven worse with them to-day; for Jem's feet were so bad with chilblainsthat he could not get about at all. The governess satisfied herselfthat there was no illness in the cottage that could hurt Norna and Ivy,and then they all went in to see poor Jem; and Miss Meadows wentupstairs to speak to the bedridden father. When she came down again herface looked very sad, but bright too.

  "Children," she said, as soon as they were out on the road again, "Idon't think we need go on to the village. We have found what we werelooking for."

  Then she went on to tell them that she had left a message with thewoodcutter, asking his wife to come up to speak to her that evening atthe Manor House.

  "I know your mamma won't mind," she said. "I will tell her all about itas soon as we get home. She will like you to try to do something forthese poor children,"--which was quite true. The lady of the Manor waskind and gentle; only, you see, many years in India had got her out ofEnglish ways.

  So that evening, when the woodcutter's wife came up to the great house,there was a grand consultation. And for some days to come, forChristmas was very near, Ivy and Norna were so busy that they had notime to grumble at the cold or to wish they were back in India, thoughthey did find time to skip and dance along the passages, and to singverses of the carols Miss Meadows was teaching them.

  Things improved at the cottage from that day. But it is about Christmasmorning I want to tell you.

  Joyce and Jem woke early--long before it was light--but they lay stilland spoke in a whisper, not to wake their poor father or their tiredmother. There was no one to hear except a little robin, who had managedto creep in the night before.

  "It's Christmas, Jem," said Joyce; "and we shall have a nice fire.They've sent mother some coals from the great house; and I _believe_we're going to have meat for dinner."

  Jem sighed with pleasure. He could scarcely believe it.

  "Shall we go to church like last Christmas, Joyce?" he asked. "My bootsis so drefful bad, I don't know as I could walk in them."

  "So's mine," said Joyce. "But p'r'aps if the roads is very dry, wemight manage."

  And so they chattered, till at last the first rays of winter daylightbegan to find their way into the little room. The children looked aboutthem--somehow they had a feeling that things could not look _quite_ thesame on Christmas morning! But what they did see was something verywonderful. On the floor near the window were two _very_ big brown paperparcels; and Joyce jumping out of bed to see what they were, saw that toeach was pinned a card; and on one car
d was written, "Joyce," on theother, "Jem."

  "_Jem_," she cried, "it must be fairies," and with trembling fingersthey undid the packages.

  It is difficult to tell you their delight!

  There was a new frock of warm linsey for Joyce, and a suit of corduroyfor Jem, boots for both--stockings and socks--two splendid redcomforters, one knitted by Ivy and one by Norna; a picture book foreach, a bag of oranges, and a beautiful home-made cake.

  Never were children so wild with joy; never had there been such aChristmas surprise.

  I was so pleased that I could not remain hidden any longer. Out I came,and perching on the window-sill, warbled a Christmas carol in my ownway. And I must say children are very