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XVII




The Little House




Everybody has heard of the Little House in the Kensington


Gardens, which is the only house in the whole world that the


fairies have built for humans. But no one has really seen it,


except just three or four, and they have not only seen it but


slept in it, and unless you sleep in it you never see it. This


is because it is not there when you lie down, but it is there


when you wake up and step outside.




In a kind of way everyone may see it, but what you see is not


really it, but only the light in the windows. You see the light


after Lock-out Time. David, for instance, saw it quite


distinctly far away among the trees as we were going home from


the pantomime, and Oliver Bailey saw it the night he stayed so


late at the Temple, which is the name of his father's office.


Angela Clare, who loves to have a tooth extracted because then


she is treated to tea in a shop, saw more than one light, she saw


hundreds of them all together, and this must have been the


fairies building the house, for they build it every night and


always in a different part of the Gardens. She thought one of


the lights was bigger than the others, though she was not quite


sure, for they jumped about so, and it might have been another


one that was bigger. But if it was the same one, it was Peter


Pan's light. Heaps of children have seen the light, so that is


nothing. But Maimie Mannering was the famous one for whom the


house was first built.




Maimie was always rather a strange girl, and it was at night that


she was strange. She was four years of age, and in the daytime


she was the ordinary kind. She was pleased when her brother


Tony, who was a magnificent fellow of six, took notice of her,


and she looked up to him in the right way, and tried in vain to


imitate him and was flattered rather than annoyed when he shoved


her about. Also, when she was batting she would pause though the


ball was in the air to point out to you that she was wearing new


shoes. She was quite the ordinary kind in the daytime.




But as the shades of night fell, Tony, the swaggerer, lost his


contempt for Maimie and eyed her fearfully, and no wonder, for


with dark there came into her face a look that I can describe


only as a leary look. It was also a serene look that contrasted


grandly with Tony's uneasy glances. Then he would make her


presents of his favourite toys (which he always took away from


her next morning) and she accepted them with a disturbing smile.


The reason he was now become so wheedling and she so mysterious


was (in brief) that they knew they were about to be sent to bed.


It was then that Maimie was terrible. Tony entreated her not to


do it to-night, and the mother and their coloured nurse


threatened her, but Maimie merely smiled her agitating smile.


And by-and-by when they were alone with their night-light she


would start up in bed crying "Hsh! what was that?" Tony


beseeches her! "It was nothing--don't, Maimie, don't!" and pulls


the sheet over his head. "It is coming nearer!" she cries; "Oh,


look at it, Tony! It is feeling your bed with its horns--it is


boring for you, oh, Tony, oh!" and she desists not until he


rushes downstairs in his combinations, screeching. When they


came up to whip Maimie they usually found her sleeping


tranquilly, not shamming, you know, but really sleeping, and


looking like the sweetest little angel, which seems to me to make


it almost worse.




But of course it was daytime when they were in the Gardens, and


then Tony did most of the talking. You could gather from his


talk that he was a very brave boy, and no one was so proud of it


as Maimie. She would have loved to have a ticket on her saying


that she was his sister. And at no time did she admire him more


than when he told her, as he often did with splendid firmness,


that one day he meant to remain behind in the Gardens after the


gates were closed.




"Oh, Tony," she would say, with awful respect, "but the fairies


will be so angry!"




"I daresay," replied Tony, carelessly.




"Perhaps," she said, thrilling, "Peter Pan will give you a sail


in his boat!"




"I shall make him," replied Tony; no wonder she was proud of him.




But they should not have talked so loudly, for one day they were


overheard by a fairy who had been gathering skeleton leaves, from


which the little people weave their summer curtains, and after


that Tony was a marked boy. They loosened the rails before he


sat on them, so that down he came on the back of his head; they


tripped him up by catching his boot-lace and bribed the ducks to


sink his boat. Nearly all the nasty accidents you meet with in


the Gardens occur because the fairies have taken an ill-will to


you, and so it behoves you to be careful what you say about them.




Maimie was one of the kind who like to fix a day for doing


things, but Tony was not that kind, and when she asked him which


day he was to remain behind in the Gardens after Lock-out he


merely replied, "Just some day;" he was quite vague about which


day except when she asked "Will it be to-day?" and then he could


always say for certain that it would not be to-day. So she saw


that he was waiting for a real good chance.




This brings us to an afternoon when the Gardens were white with


snow, and there was ice on the Round Pond, not thick enough to


skate on but at least you could spoil it for to-morrow by


flinging stones, and many bright little boys and girls were doing


that.




When Tony and his sister arrived they wanted to go straight to


the pond, but their ayah said they must take a sharp walk first,


and as she said this she glanced at the time-board to see when


the Gardens closed that night. It read half-past five. Poor


ayah! she is the one who laughs continuously because there are so


many white children in the world, but she was not to laugh much


more that day.




Well, they went up the Baby Walk and back, and when they returned


to the time-board she was surprised to see that it now read five


o'clock for closing time. But she was unacquainted with the


tricky ways of the fairies, and so did not see (as Maimie and


Tony saw at once) that they had changed the hour because there


was to be a ball to-night. She said there was only time now to


walk to the top of the Hump and back, and as they trotted along


with her she little guessed what was thrilling their little


breasts. You see the chance had come of seeing a fairy ball.


Never, Tony felt, could he hope for a better chance.




He had to feel this, for Maimie so plainly felt it for him. Her


eager eyes asked the question, "Is it to-day?" and he gasped and


then nodded. Maimie slipped her hand into Tony's, and hers was


hot, but his was cold. She did a very kind thing; she took off


her scarf and gave it to him! "In case you should feel cold,"


she whispered. Her face was aglow, but Tony's was very gloomy.




As they turned on the top of the Hump he whispered to her, "I'm


afraid Nurse would see me, so I sha'n't be able to do it."




Maimie admired him more than ever for being afraid of nothing but


their ayah, when there were so many unknown terrors to fear, and


she said aloud, "Tony, I shall race you to the gate," and in a


whisper, "Then you can hide," and off they ran.




Tony could always outdistance her easily, but never had she known


him speed away so quickly as now, and she was sure he hurried


that he might have more time to hide. "Brave, brave!" her doting


eyes were crying when she got a dreadful shock; instead of


hiding, her hero had run out at the gate! At this bitter sight


Maimie stopped blankly, as if all her lapful of darling treasures


were suddenly spilled, and then for very disdain she could not


sob; in a swell of protest against all puling cowards she ran to


St. Govor's Well and hid in Tony's stead.




When the ayah reached the gate and saw Tony far in front she


thought her other charge was with him and passed out. Twilight


came on, and scores and hundreds of people passed out, including


the last one, who always has to run for it, but Maimie saw them


not. She had shut her eyes tight and glued them with passionate


tears. When she opened them something very cold ran up her legs


and up her arms and dropped into her heart. It was the stillness


of the Gardens. Then she heard clang, then from another part


clang, then clang, clang far away. It was the Closing of the


Gates.




Immediately the last clang had died away Maimie distinctly heard


a voice say, "So that's all right." It had a wooden sound and


seemed to come from above, and she looked up in time to see an


elm tree stretching out its arms and yawning.




She was about to say, "I never knew you could speak!" when a


metallic voice that seemed to come from the ladle at the well


remarked to the elm, "I suppose it is a bit coldish up there?"


and the elm replied, "Not particularly, but you do get numb


standing so long on one leg," and he flapped his arms vigorously


just as the cabmen do before they drive off. Maimie was quite


surprised to see that a number of other tall trees were doing the


same sort of thing, and she stole away to the Baby Walk and


crouched observantly under a Minorca Holly which shrugged its


shoulders but did not seem to mind her.




She was not in the least cold. She was wearing a russet-coloured


pelisse and had the hood over her head, so that nothing of her


showed except her dear little face and her curls. The rest of


her real self was hidden far away inside so many warm garments


that in shape she seemed rather like a ball. She was about forty


round the waist.




There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie


arrived in time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over


the railing and set off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky


sort of way certainly, but that was because they used crutches.


An elderberry hobbled across the walk, and stood chatting with


some young quinces, and they all had crutches. The crutches were


the sticks that are tied to young trees and shrubs. They were


quite familiar objects to Maimie, but she had never known what


they were for until to-night.




She peeped up the walk and saw her first fairy. He was a street


boy fairy who was running up the walk closing the weeping trees.


The way he did it was this, he pressed a spring in the trunk and


they shut like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with


snow. "Oh, you naughty, naughty child!" Maimie cried


indignantly, for she knew what it was to have a dripping umbrella


about your ears.




Fortunately the mischievous fellow was out of earshot, but the


chrysanthemums heard her, and they all said so pointedly "Hoity-


toity, what is this?" that she had to come out and show herself.


Then the whole vegetable kingdom was rather puzzled what to do.




"Of course it is no affair of ours," a spindle tree said after


they had whispered together, "but you know quite well you ought


not to be here, and perhaps our duty is to report you to the


fairies; what do you think yourself?"




"I think you should not," Maimie replied, which so perplexed them


that they said petulantly there was no arguing with her. "I


wouldn't ask it of you," she assured them, "if I thought it was


wrong," and of course after this they could not well carry tales.


They then said, "Well-a-day," and "Such is life!" for they can be


frightfully sarcastic, but she felt sorry for those of them who


had no crutches, and she said good-naturedly, "Before I go to the


fairies' ball, I should like to take you for a walk one at a


time; you can lean on me, you know."




At this they clapped their hands, and she escorted them up to the


Baby Walk and back again, one at a time, putting an arm or a


finger round the very frail, setting their leg right when it got


too ridiculous, and treating the foreign ones quite as


courteously as the English, though she could not understand a


word they said.




They behaved well on the whole, though some whimpered that she


had not taken them as far as she took Nancy or Grace or Dorothy,


and others jagged her, but it was quite unintentional, and she


was too much of a lady to cry out. So much walking tired her and


she was anxious to be off to the ball, but she no longer felt


afraid. The reason she felt no more fear was that it was now


night-time, and in the dark, you remember, Maimie was always


rather strange.




They were now loath to let her go, for, "If the fairies see you,"


they warned her, "they will mischief you, stab you to death or


compel you to nurse their children or turn you into something


tedious, like an evergreen oak." As they said this they looked


with affected pity at an evergreen oak, for in winter they are


very envious of the evergreens.




"Oh, la!" replied the oak bitingly, "how deliciously cosy it is


to stand here buttoned to the neck and watch you poor naked


creatures shivering!"




This made them sulky though they had really brought it on


themselves, and they drew for Maimie a very gloomy picture of the


perils that faced her if she insisted on going to the ball.




She learned from a purple filbert that the court was not in its


usual good temper at present, the cause being the tantalising


heart of the Duke of Christmas Daisies. He was an Oriental


fairy, very poorly of a dreadful complaint, namely, inability to


love, and though he had tried many ladies in many lands he could


not fall in love with one of them. Queen Mab, who rules in the


Gardens, had been confident that her girls would bewitch him, but


alas, his heart, the doctor said, remained cold. This rather


irritating doctor, who was his private physician, felt the Duke's


heart immediately after any lady was presented, and then always


shook his bald head and murmured, "Cold, quite cold!" Naturally


Queen Mab felt disgraced, and first she tried the effect of


ordering the court into tears for nine minutes, and then she


blamed the Cupids and decreed that they should wear fools' caps


until they thawed the Duke's frozen heart.




"How I should love to see the Cupids in their dear little fools'


caps!" Maimie cried, and away she ran to look for them very


recklessly, for the Cupids hate to be laughed at.




It is always easy to discover where a fairies' ball is being


held, as ribbons are stretched between it and all the populous


parts of the Gardens, on which those invited may walk to the


dance without wetting their pumps. This night the ribbons were


red and looked very pretty on the snow.




Maimie walked alongside one of them for some distance without


meeting anybody, but at last she saw a fairy cavalcade


approaching. To her surprise they seemed to be returning from


the ball, and she had just time to hide from them by bending her


knees and holding out her arms and pretending to be a garden


chair. There were six horsemen in front and six behind, in the


middle walked a prim lady wearing a long train held up by two


pages, and on the train, as if it were a couch, reclined a lovely


girl, for in this way do aristocratic fairies travel about. She


was dressed in golden rain, but the most enviable part of her was


her neck, which was blue in colour and of a velvet texture, and


of course showed off her diamond necklace as no white throat


could have glorified it. The high-born fairies obtain this


admired effect by pricking their skin, which lets the blue blood


come through and dye them, and you cannot imagine anything so


dazzling unless you have seen the ladies' busts in the jewellers'


windows.




Maimie also noticed that the whole cavalcade seemed to be in a


passion, tilting their noses higher than it can be safe for even


fairies to tilt them, and she concluded that this must be another


case in which the doctor had said "Cold, quite cold!"




Well, she followed the ribbon to a place where it became a bridge


over a dry puddle into which another fairy had fallen and been


unable to climb out. At first this little damsel was afraid of


Maimie, who most kindly went to her aid, but soon she sat in her


hand chatting gaily and explaining that her name was Brownie, and


that though only a poor street singer she was on her way to the


ball to see if the Duke would have her.




"Of course," she said, "I am rather plain," and this made Maimie


uncomfortable, for indeed the simple little creature was almost


quite plain for a fairy.




It was difficult to know what to reply.




"I see you think I have no chance," Brownie said falteringly.




"I don't say that," Maimie answered politely, "of course your


face is just a tiny bit homely, but--" Really it was quite


awkward for her.




Fortunately she remembered about her father and the bazaar. He


had gone to a fashionable bazaar where all the most beautiful


ladies in London were on view for half-a-crown the second day,


but on his return home instead of being dissatisfied with


Maimie's mother he had said, "You can't think, my dear, what a


relief it is to see a homely face again."




Maimie repeated this story, and it fortified Brownie


tremendously, indeed she had no longer the slightest doubt that


the Duke would choose her. So she scudded away up the ribbon,


calling out to Maimie not to follow lest the Queen should


mischief her.




But Maimie's curiosity tugged her forward, and presently at the


seven Spanish chestnuts, she saw a wonderful light. She crept


forward until she was quite near it, and then she peeped from


behind a tree.




The light, which was as high as your head above the ground, was


composed of myriads of glow-worms all holding on to each other,


and so forming a dazzling canopy over the fairy ring. There were


thousands of little people looking on, but they were in shadow


and drab in colour compared to the glorious creatures within that


luminous circle who were so bewilderingly bright that Maimie had


to wink hard all the time she looked at them.




It was amazing and even irritating to her that the Duke of


Christmas Daisies should be able to keep out of love for a


moment: yet out of love his dusky grace still was: you could see


it by the shamed looks of the Queen and court (though they


pretended not to care), by the way darling ladies brought forward


for his approval burst into tears as they were told to pass on,


and by his own most dreary face.




Maimie could also see the pompous doctor feeling the Duke's heart


and hear him give utterance to his parrot cry, and she was


particularly sorry for the Cupids, who stood in their fools' caps


in obscure places and, every time they heard that "Cold, quite


cold," bowed their disgraced little heads.




She was disappointed not to see Peter Pan, and I may as well tell


you now why he was so late that night. It was because his boat


had got wedged on the Serpentine between fields of floating ice,


through which he had to break a perilous passage with his trusty


paddle.




The fairies had as yet scarcely missed him, for they could not


dance, so heavy were their hearts. They forget all the steps


when they are sad and remember them again when they are merry.


David tells me that fairies never say "We feel happy": what they


say is, "We feel dancey."




Well, they were looking very undancey indeed, when sudden


laughter broke out among the onlookers, caused by Brownie, who


had just arrived and was insisting on her right to be presented


to the Duke.




Maimie craned forward eagerly to see how her friend fared, though


she had really no hope; no one seemed to have the least hope


except Brownie herself, who, however, was absolutely confident.


She was led before his grace, and the doctor putting a finger


carelessly on the ducal heart, which for convenience sake was


reached by a little trapdoor in his diamond shirt, had begun to


say mechanically, "Cold, qui--," when he stopped abruptly.




"What's this?" he cried, and first he shook the heart like a


watch, and then put his ear to it.




"Bless my soul!" cried the doctor, and by this time of course the


excitement among the spectators was tremendous, fairies fainting


right and left.




Everybody stared breathlessly at the Duke, who was very much


startled and looked as if he would like to run away. "Good


gracious me!" the doctor was heard muttering, and now the heart


was evidently on fire, for he had to jerk his fingers away from


it and put them in his mouth.




The suspense was awful!




Then in a loud voice, and bowing low, "My Lord Duke," said the


physician elatedly, "I have the honour to inform your excellency


that your grace is in love."




You can't conceive the effect of it. Brownie held out her arms


to the Duke and he flung himself into them, the Queen leapt into


the arms of the Lord Chamberlain, and the ladies of the court


leapt into the arms of her gentlemen, for it is etiquette to


follow her example in everything. Thus in a single moment about


fifty marriages took place, for if you leap into each other's


arms it is a fairy wedding. Of course a clergyman has to be


present.




How the crowd cheered and leapt! Trumpets brayed, the moon came


out, and immediately a thousand couples seized hold of its rays


as if they were ribbons in a May dance and waltzed in wild


abandon round the fairy ring. Most gladsome sight of all, the


Cupids plucked the hated fools' caps from their heads and cast


them high in the air. And then Maimie went and spoiled


everything. She couldn't help it. She was crazy with delight


over her little friend's good fortune, so she took several steps


forward and cried in an ecstasy, "Oh, Brownie, how splendid!"




Everybody stood still, the music ceased, the lights went out, and


all in the time you may take to say "Oh dear!" An awful sense of


her peril came upon Maimie, too late she remembered that she was


a lost child in a place where no human must be between the


locking and the opening of the gates, she heard the murmur of an


angry multitude, she saw a thousand swords flashing for her


blood, and she uttered a cry of terror and fled.




How she ran! and all the time her eyes were starting out of her


head. Many times she lay down, and then quickly jumped up and


ran on again. Her little mind was so entangled in terrors that


she no longer knew she was in the Gardens. The one thing she was


sure of was that she must never cease to run, and she thought she


was still running long after she had dropped in the Figs and gone


to sleep. She thought the snowflakes falling on her face were


her mother kissing her good-night. She thought her coverlet of


snow was a warm blanket, and tried to pull it over her head. And


when she heard talking through her dreams she thought it was


mother bringing father to the nursery door to look at her as she


slept. But it was the fairies.




I am very glad to be able to say that they no longer desired to


mischief her. When she rushed away they had rent the air with


such cries as "Slay her!" "Turn her into something extremely


unpleasant!" and so on, but the pursuit was delayed while they


discussed who should march in front, and this gave Duchess


Brownie time to cast herself before the Queen and demand a boon.




Every bride has a right to a boon, and what she asked for was


Maimie's life. "Anything except that," replied Queen Mab


sternly, and all the fairies chanted "Anything except that." But


when they learned how Maimie had befriended Brownie and so


enabled her to attend the ball to their great glory and renown,


they gave three huzzas for the little human, and set off, like an


army, to thank her, the court advancing in front and the canopy


keeping step with it. They traced Maimie easily by her


footprints in the snow.




But though they found her deep in snow in the Figs, it seemed


impossible to thank Maimie, for they could not waken her. They


went through the form of thanking her, that is to say, the new


King stood on her body and read her a long address of welcome,


but she heard not a word of it. They also cleared the snow off


her, but soon she was covered again, and they saw she was in


danger of perishing of cold.




"Turn her into something that does not mind the cold," seemed a


good suggestion of the doctor's, but the only thing they could


think of that does not mind cold was a snowflake. "And it might


melt," the Queen pointed out, so that idea had to be given up.




A magnificent attempt was made to carry her to a sheltered spot,


but though there were so many of them she was too heavy. By this


time all the ladies were crying in their handkerchiefs, but


presently the Cupids had a lovely idea. "Build a house round


her," they cried, and at once everybody perceived that this was


the thing to do; in a moment a hundred fairy sawyers were among


the branches, architects were running round Maimie, measuring


her; a bricklayer's yard sprang up at her feet, seventy-five


masons rushed up with the foundation stone and the Queen laid it,


overseers were appointed to keep the boys off, scaffoldings were


run up, the whole place rang with hammers and chisels and turning


lathes, and by this time the roof was on and the glaziers were


putting in the windows.




The house was exactly the size of Maimie and perfectly lovely.


One of her arms was extended and this had bothered them for a


second, but they built a verandah round it, leading to the front


door. The windows were the size of a coloured picture-book and


the door rather smaller, but it would be easy for her to get out


by taking off the roof. The fairies, as is their custom, clapped


their hands with delight over their cleverness, and they were all


so madly in love with the little house that they could not bear


to think they had finished it. So they gave it ever so many


little extra touches, and even then they added more extra


touches.




For instance, two of them ran up a ladder and put on a chimney.




"Now we fear it is quite finished," they sighed. But no, for


another two ran up the ladder, and tied some smoke to the


chimney.




"That certainly finishes it," they cried reluctantly.




"Not at all," cried a glow-worm, "if she were to wake without


seeing a night-light she might be frightened, so I shall be her


night-light."




"Wait one moment," said a china merchant, "and I shall make you a


saucer."




Now alas, it was absolutely finished.




Oh, dear no!




"Gracious me," cried a brass manufacturer, "there's no handle on


the door," and he put one on.




An ironmonger added a scraper and an old lady ran up with a door-


mat. Carpenters arrived with a water-butt, and the painters


insisted on painting it.




Finished at last!




"Finished! how can it be finished," the plumber demanded


scornfully, "before hot and cold are put in?" and he put in hot


and cold. Then an army of gardeners arrived with fairy carts and


spades and seeds and bulbs and forcing-houses, and soon they had


a flower garden to the right of the verandah and a vegetable


garden to the left, and roses and clematis on the walls of the


house, and in less time than five minutes all these dear things


were in full bloom.




Oh, how beautiful the little house was now! But it was at last


finished true as true, and they had to leave it and return to the


dance. They all kissed their hands to it as they went away, and


the last to go was Brownie. She stayed a moment behind the


others to drop a pleasant dream down the chimney.




All through the night the exquisite little house stood there in


the Figs taking care of Maimie, and she never knew. She slept


until the dream was quite finished and woke feeling deliciously


cosy just as morning was breaking from its egg, and then she


almost fell asleep again, and then she called out, "Tony," for


she thought she was at home in the nursery. As Tony made no


answer, she sat up, whereupon her head hit the roof, and it


opened like the lid of a box, and to her bewilderment she saw all


around her the Kensington Gardens lying deep in snow. As she was


not in the nursery she wondered whether this was really herself,


so she pinched her cheeks, and then she knew it was herself, and


this reminded her that she was in the middle of a great


adventure. She remembered now everything that had happened to


her from the closing of the gates up to her running away from the


fairies, but however, she asked herself, had she got into this


funny place? She stepped out by the roof, right over the garden,


and then she saw the dear house in which she had passed the


night. It so entranced her that she could think of nothing else.




"Oh, you darling, oh, you sweet, oh, you love!" she cried.




Perhaps a human voice frightened the little house, or maybe it


now knew that its work was done, for no sooner had Maimie spoken


than it began to grow smaller; it shrank so slowly that she could


scarce believe it was shrinking, yet she soon knew that it could


not contain her now. It always remained as complete as ever, but


it became smaller and smaller, and the garden dwindled at the


same time, and the snow crept closer, lapping house and garden


up. Now the house was the size of a little dog's kennel, and now


of a Noah's Ark, but still you could see the smoke and the


door-handle and the roses on the wall, every one complete. The


glow-worm light was waning too, but it was still there.


"Darling, loveliest, don't go!" Maimie cried, falling on her


knees, for the little house was now the size of a reel of thread,


but still quite complete. But as she stretched out her arms


imploringly the snow crept up on all sides until it met itself,


and where the little house had been was now one unbroken expanse


of snow.




Maimie stamped her foot naughtily, and was putting her fingers to


her eyes, when she heard a kind voice say, "Don't cry, pretty


human, don't cry," and then she turned round and saw a beautiful


little naked boy regarding her wistfully. She knew at once that


he must be Peter Pan.