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SThe Baldwin Uibray Bum:93 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. N the stilU wol Uthe waters See page 136. A MOONBEAM TANGLE. BY SYDNEY SHADBOLT. ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY- THREE DRA WINGS BY JOSEPH BLIGH. "w SWEET MOON, I THANK THEE FOR TRY SUNNY BEAM ; I THANK THEE, MOON, FOR SHINING NOW SO BRIGHT." A Mi.dssunImer Night's Dream. CASSELL, BETTER, GALPIN & CO.: LONDON, PARIS f NEW YORK. 1881. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] J/ CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE THE JOURNEY THERE. 9 CHAPTER II. BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 38 CHAPTER III. THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN". .60 CHAPTER IV. BUBBLEBY GRANGE 93 CHAPTER V. THE JOURNEY BACK 122 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. "PAGE " Woo the still world, and set the waters flushing! Frontispiece. The Dutchman 9. . Flying Jib 16 The Guardian of the Lake 23 A Sister of Mercy 41 "Don't! You Tickle!" 53 A Night Watchman 55 The Entrance to Bramble Glade 57 The Black-and-tan 69 " Like Greased Lightning" 72 "Where's the Seventh?" 77 Pious drops 81 A Pair of Radiant-winged Doves 91 The Tryst 95 Sir Pint-pot 101 The Douche 107 "Here we go Round the Mulberry-bush! 117 The Donkey 125 "We'll form in a ring, and we'll dance and sing." 130 A Mushroom . .134 " Dancing on the Lake's Calm Surface" 141 "Loosing her beautiful Limbs in Repose ". 144 "Whirling Upward and Onward" 147 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. CHAPTER I. THE JOURNEY THERE. '- pT must have been nearly nine o'clock. To call it dusk would .I have been ridiculous: it was dark, as anybody with half an eye could see. The curtains of i l the carriage were drawn; and the train was still tearing along as though it were mad-just as it had been doing, with occasional stoppages at dim-lighted, sleepy stations, for hours past. After spending a whole delicious month in the country, Etta was returning home to London. Curled up comfortably amongst her cushions, B p. 10 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. she was blinking solemnly across at Nurse, who was sitting opposite. She had been doing her best to entertain herself for a length of time by listening to the rhyme of the wheels:- "Click-click-click clack! Click-click-click clack ! When we have to go forward we can't go back !" This, though all very well in its way, was becoming a little monotonous from constant repetition; so thinking it high time that some kind of protest should be made, she put her lips down to the carpet, and whispered: "You've really made that remark before." Now, if there's one thing in the world that a train-wheel-in this like a human being-detests and abhors, it is being told that it has made the same remark twice over. At any rate, these instantly changed the burden of their discourse, gabbling forth, as fast as they could utter the "words-Click-click-click on! "Click-click-click clon ! Click-click-cWe'll come to a stop when we can't go on We'll come to a stop when we can't go on " THE JOURNEY THERE. 11 And Etta felt satisfied, considering there was much reason in what they said. "I wonder what the time is ?" suddenly observed Nurse, who had been looking meditative for some few minutes past. Etta, would not hazard a guess. "If we only had the Dutchman here, we could tell," she replied. And her thoughts went back to the old red house in bonny Devon which she had quitted only that morning, and dwelt lovingly upon the Dutchman-who, it must be explained, hung upon the staircase wall, and was a clock of honest countenance and not un- truthful habits. After making this remark, Etta yawned. The journey had been such a long one; and she really was getting very sleepy. It is not quite clear whether or no she even remembered to put her hand before her mouth; though it is quite clear- and she knew it just as well as any of us-that mouths always should be covered up on these occasions. 12 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Nurse, catching sight of the yawn, exclaimed: "Dustman is coming! Even as she spoke, one of Etta's eyes closed; and it is almost certain that the other would have done the same, if only for company, had not the train-wheels again suddenly changed the subject of their discourse, muttering savagely- "Click-click-click clop ! Click-click-click clop ! As we cannot go on we must come to a stop !" That they spoke nothing more than the plain unvarnished truth is evident; for before Etta could realize what they meant the train had drawn up; and a guard with a bull's-eye lantern, popping his head into the window, was calling out: "Tickets please tic-kets tic-kets tic-kets " "How long will it be before we reach Lon- don ?" asked.Nurse, as two picturesque little door- ways were being snipped out of the tickets. 'n hour and a half," replied the guard, who was evidently just as clever at snipping a word as he was at snipping a ticket. THE JOURNEY THERE. 13 The train went rushing along on its journey; but somehow the voice of the guard seemed to Etta to be mixing itself up in the most unaccount- able way with the rumbling of the wheels. "Tickets please! tic-kets! tic-kets! tic-tac! tic-tac!" Ex-tra-or-din-a-ry she exclaimed. And she was right.. For there, right opposite to her, hung the Dutchman; and she herself was standing on the staircase watching it; and, most extra- ordinary of all, it was listening-listening with an expression of deep pain to a tiny creature who was swinging airily on its pendulum. "Why don't you hit one your own size ? ". the young gentleman was asking, rather rudely. "I'd be ashamed to strike a poor little chap like the Time-only three hours old-if I were you." The clock wrung its hands together in despair, and tears trickled down its honest, broad face. "What is the use of all this ? it blubbered. "How is it possible for me to do my duty ? You hang on to me till I don't know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels. And now, 14 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. stir up my works if you haven't made me lose an hour." And, to Etta's intense astonishment, it got down and began searching about on the floor. Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the little sprite, holding his hands to his sides and enjoying the joke consumedly. "You'll never catch it! It has got the start of you, my dear fellow. You'll never catch it!" "If I don't, I'm a Dutchman!" whimpered the poor old clock, groping about in a feeble manner, and then attempting to gather itself up and jog along. Now, Etta had a tender heart, and it was moved; so, stepping forward, she said, kindly: "I think-if you will excuse my saying so-you are almost run down." Who's been running me down? demanded the clock, turning very red in the face. "Nobody," said Etta. I'm sure no one would think of doing so. All I meant was that you had run down yourself." THE JOURNEY THERE. 15 "That's very likely," said the clock, ironically. "I may be handsome, and I may be persevering, but I'm not modest. I never run myself down. And it's rude to call me nobody." "I didn't mean it in that way at all," remarked Etta, gently. "What I was going to say is that I feel for you very deeply, and that, if you will allow me, I shall be most happy, I'm sure, to wind you up myself. You would stand a far better chance of catching the hour, you know." "May I ask," inquired the clock, with freezing politeness, what you know about winding up ? " "Well," said Etta, who really never had wound up a clock in her life, but who did not care to say so, "I haven't had much experience, certainly." And she hurriedly began to think of all the things she ever had wound up. "I've often wound up a story, and-and even a ball of worsted- she began. "I may be very soft,' interrupted the clock, evidently a good deal nettled, "but I'm not so soft as all that." 16 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. What's the good of talking to it? remarked a little creature, who, seated upon a feather, came flying through the staircase window at this moment. "What's the good of wasting breath ? What's the good of-however, jump up !" "I beg your pardon? asked Etta, politely, not quite understanding. Jump up beside me," said the little fellow, making room on the .feather on which he sat. "I've been ordered to take you, you know." Where ? asked Etta, a little alarmed. And who has ordered you? " "To the lake at Bubbleby Grange," replied he; "and its guardian-the King-said we were not to lose time." THE JOURNEY THERE. 17 "Well, if you are sure he said so," replied Etta, "I suppose I must go." And she seated herself beside him, murmuring to herself, "For of all the delicious places in the world, Bubbleby Grange sounds the deliciousest." And away they went. As they passed out through the window, Etta looked back, and saw the poor old clock still groping about for the hour, and the little sprite laughing consumedly. '' You'll never catch it, my dear fellow," she heard him repeat; you'll never catch it." Then she turned to her com- panion, whose hair was streaming wildly in the wind, and who seemed very intent on directing the course of the feather. "'This is very sudden," she said; but I must say I like it. For of all the delicious .places in the world, Bubbleby Grange-" "You've said that before," interrupted the little fellow. Etta felt snubbed; "-What's your name?" she asked; for she felt she must say some- thing. c 18 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. "Bless my soul and body!" cried the sprite, in a tone of astonishment; "do you mean to say you've never heard? And after he had got over his surprise he smiled a very superior smile. "Of course I haven't," replied Etta. "How could I have? Why, I've never seen you before." "You have never had the pleasure of seeing me before," he corrected; "though I don't see what that has to do with it. Seeing isn't hearing, is it? " "Certainly not," replied Etta, who had been very well taught. It's believing." That settles it then; it clearly can't be both," said the sprite. Flying Jib is my name; very much at your service," he continued with a bow which caused the feather to sway dreadfully. "One can be too polite, you know," observed Etta, reproachfully, as she recovered her balance. Just then the feather suddenly drew up close by the side of a grass path in the midst of a dense plantation. THE JOURNEY THERE. 19 "Good evening," said the charioteer, politely handing her down. Take the first turning on the right, the second on the left, the third on the right, the fourth on the left, and there you are at the lake." And no sooner was the direction given than there came a puff of wind, and both feather and guide were whisked away out of sight. "The first on the right," repeated Etta, bewildered, pressing her hands to her head. "That's right! shouted a voice. The second on the left," she went on. That's left shouted the voice. "All that's left, I'm afraid, in your memory. But don't trouble, I'll guide you." "That's kind of you," said Etta. "No, no," replied the voice. "Duty, duty !" Then it suddenly broke forth into song in a deep bass: "Fayland expects that ev-e-ry voice this ni-ight wi-ill doo-oo its- " Du-ty! Etta joined in. "This ni-ight wi-ill doo-oo its du-ty trolled forth the voice, finishing the bar. "You caught 20 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. the note beautifully, I must confess; but you shouldn't interrupt. Perhaps you've never heard the story of the little girl who had to go on talking for ever because she interrupted; have you ? Ah ! I thought you hadn't. I'll tell it you. Once upon a time, a voice was singing a song to a little girl, and whilst it was pausing for a moment, she seized the opportunity and interrupted; and a fearful scrimmage ensued." How was that ? asked Etta. "Why, she had seized the opportunity," replied the voice; "didn't you hear? Well, to get on with the story. She seized the opportunity and interrupted; and a loud crash was heard-- " What from? asked Etta. "She had broken the silence," replied the voice, irritably. How slow you are! Well, that's how it all came about. She tried and tried to mend it, but she never could. Glue, gum, and paste-paste, gum, and glue-but they were of no avail. It was rather sad, wasn't it? But don't weep." THE JOURNEY THERE. 21 "No," said Etta; "that I certainly shall not, at anything so ridiculous. You need have no fear." Fear shouted the voice, bombastically; I know it not. Like my Lord Nelson, I was once heard in my youth to ask my grandmother, Who is Fear? We were not acquainted, you see." "Are we coming to the lake, or are we not ? " demanded Etta, in despair. We are, we are," replied the voice. That is, you are. I'm not. I'm getting rather husky, so I think I'll avoid the lake. Lakes are invariably damp." "Not damp," said Etta, archly. They are wet." Positive, damp," meditated the voice; "com- parative, moister; superlative, wet. I'm positive- they're damp; they're damp-I'm positive-I'm positive-they're- " That's right," said Etta. "Ask me a riddle." No," replied the voice, haughtily, I shall not. But I wanted to make quite sure which of 22 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. us it is that was positive, and which of us damp. We seemed to be getting mixed up. Of course it is the lake that is damp. And mark my words: if it doesn't take care, it will grow husky too. Every- thing does that remains out late at night. Look at the corn. Look at me." Considering you are only a voice," said Etta, " you are really not much to look at." That's rude," observed the voice. Beauty is but husk deep. You should never make remarks on personal appearance. And now, as I want to sneeze in peace, I think I'll leave you. Good even- ing." And before Etta could attempt to realise how a voice could sneeze in peace, she found herself all alone in the plantation. The night was intensely calm and beautiful. Far away in the distance, to the right, the moon was rising: a glorious summer moon, with a great silvery track of light leading towards it. Which way was she to turn ?-that was the question. Suddenly she found herself on the grass, following the track of light; though why, she could not have THE JOURNEY THEEE. 23 explained. Perhaps it was because it was beautiful, and one naturally loves to follow beautiful ways. The rich turf made a delicious carpet to walk upon, and the dew-drops lay upon it like scattered gems. Somehow she got the idea into her head that they were gems, and not dew-drops, and so her little feet didn't feel one whit cold. It's astonishing how warm ideas can keep one. As she tripped along, she began to imagine she heard a low, plaintive voice, as of one singing. Could it be? She moved softly forward to where two tree- shadows were lying cosily on the ground under a wall, side by side; then she parted the tangle of branches with her hand. It was some one singing: he whom she knew at once to be the Fairy King. Not that his raiment betrayed him; for he was soberly clad in moleskin, close-fitting as a glove, and the only crown he wore on his head was a wild hyacinth bell. She drew in her breath and listened. He evidently had not heard her ap- proach, for his eyes remained fixed, with a far-away expression, upon the great sheety lake which lay 24 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. before him glistening in the moonlight. These were the words she heard:- THE LAKE GUARDIAN'S SONG: Once more do I gaze through a glimmering haze On the water that drips from a hundred ledges; Once more do I hear its music clear, As it ripples amidst its rustling sedges. "Here I stand and dream, in my lake's cool gleam, Of the time when I dwelt in these reedy bowers; THE JOURNEY THERE. 25 When, a guardian sprite, I flitted by night, And worked fairy spells through the flying hours. How I used to try, in the ages gone by, To win the regard of the wonder-eyed mortals Who hither would roam from their great red home With the gambrel roof and the oaken portals ! How deeply I grieved when they disbelieved In me, and my works, and our fairy nation ! Oh a sprite's heart bleeds when his kindly deeds Are met with a false interpretation ! "And no longer I'd stay. So one sad day I passed the command to my fairy legions; And we packed up our things, and flapped our wings, And flitted through space to remoter regions." The singer paused, and gazed very pensively at the great track of light the moon was making on the water. In a little time his eyes seemed to brighten; then he went on:- But the ages have sped, and the past is dead, And now Hope disperses the mist of our sadness; For there's come to the strand of fairy-land A rumour that fills our hearts with gladness. D 26 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. That a dear little maid, gentle-mannered and staid, Is learning to understand our races; To captivate fays with her delicate ways, With her tender heart, and her manifold graces. She has broken the spell! Every dingle and dell Shall echo once more with our rippling laughter; First the Undines and Gnomes shall troop back to their homes, Salamanders and Sylphs shall come following after. On the back of a cloud we'll together crowd, And we'll laugh as the wind our chariot chases. Our sway we'll assert, 'mongst the moonbeams we'll flirt, And we'll kiss the flowerets' upturned faces. At night, in the park and the meadow, we'll hark To the musical sheep-bells' tinkle tinkle ! We'll form in a ring, and we'll dance and sing, As the waving grasses with dew drops we sprinkle. "And the grasses shall quake, and their heads they'll shake, For the grasses are coy, and they love coquetting; But they don't mind the cold, if the truth be told, And they vastly enjoy their midnight wetting. THE JOURNEY THERE. 27 "We'll gaze at the sky, as the hours steal by, Till the clouds show the edge of their silvery lining; Till the stars, in surprise, wink their soft, calm eyes, At the rose-red light to the eastward shining. "Then the sun shall appear; and we'll just wait to hear Old Chanticleer utter his lusty warning; Then like lightning we'll race, and we'll vanish in space, Ere the sleeping world wake to the summons of morning." After the song was finished, the singer continued to gaze for a time on the lake he appeared to love so well. Etta was close to him, and was still holding the parted branches in her hand. She felt a little awe-stricken: the moon shone so, and the voice of the singer had been so deliciously melodious. Somehow, too, she began to imagine that it was she who was the little maid referred to as learning to understand the fays; for had she not already made the acquaintance of Flying Jib, and the voice, and the rest of them? And she felt rather glad and proud, as is natural with people alluded to in songs. Thus it was that she just 28 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. stood waiting quietly, wondering what might come next; and did not experience the least surprise when the King turned towards her, and asked, Is the little maid here ? " Yes," she replied, softly, not forgetting to make a very pretty curtsey, I am here." And you have never quite been here before ?" he said, in the same quiet tone. No, never before," replied Etta. Though I have often thought about you," she added, anxious that he should not consider her quite a stranger. That's half-way to being with us," said the King. "And the more you think of us, the more intimate we shall become, and the fonder we shall grow of one another. And if you go on thinking and thinking of us, who knows but that you may be able to call us up to see you even after you get back to your own world ? " My world? said Etta. Is not your world my world? " The King coughed. Well, not exactly," he replied. THE JOURNEY THERE. 29 "Then tell me, King," said Etta, earnestly, "what world is this we are in ? " He seemed to be considering the question, so she felt it necessary to say, in a warning voice, "Now, don't make anything up, King." "Not for the world," replied he. It scarcely has a name," he continued, thoughtfully; suppose we christen it." "Let's," said Etta. What do you say to the World of Fancy ?" asked the King. "Delicious! answered Etta, decisively. "Then so let it be," said the King. "And should you like to travel in it to-night ? " I should love to," exclaimed Etta, clasping her hands together in her enthusiasm. But no sooner had she uttered the words than the King had disappeared. Could she have been dreaming? There was the lake, and there lay the great track of light across it; but look which way she would, no King was to be seen. Still she felt no fear. Everything seemed to have come about 30 A 11OONBEAM TANGLE. so naturally, and so she thought, "I'll just wait and see what comes next." And she had not to wait long. As she let loose the branches which she had been holding apart, she found herself standing in a bower. At her feet lay a baby lake -much such a lake as the one she had just shut out from her view, but not a tenth part the size. Though it was in shadow, yet it was exquisitely clear. Gazing into its depths, she saw what she imagined to be a reflection of her own face, and she stooped down to inspect it more closely. Suddenly a voice came singing to her from out of the water:- "Thus commands the Chief : Take a burdock least From here, where the water-plants rise, Thick-ribbed and cool, from their shadowy pool, And draw it across your eyes " "Well," said Etta, in astonishment, if you are my face, you certainly are not my voice." Stretch- ing out her hand as she spoke, she grasped the stem of one of the water-plants, broke it as neatly THE JOURNEY THERE. 31 as she could, and drew the great flappy leaf across her eyes, as she had been bidden to. Directly she removed it from her face she saw a great eddy circling in the pool, from the midst of which a sprite suddenly leapt forth, just as a fish might have done, except that he managed to land dexterously on the bank. Etta thought she had never looked upon a handsomer little creature. His dress, whatever it may have been made of, was radiantly beautiful. It reminded her of the gleaming armour which a trout wears on holiday occasions-as when he leaps three feet sheer out of the water after a May-fly. Jewels shone from his wings, and one, a great ruby, shed its ruddy rays from the base of a feather in his cap. They keep one under bravely, when they've a mind to," he said, confidentially, pointing to the burdock leaf which Etta had dropped in her sur- prise, and throwing back over his shoulders his wet, curly locks. "Next to water-lillies, I know of none like burdock for playing tricks with one under water. You may ask, 'Why didn't I fix 32 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. my teeth into its calf ? So I did; but for all the effect it had on it, it might as well have been the calf of a Lord Mayor's footman. One is just as full of pith as the other." Now Etta had always heard that it was straw that the calf of a Lord Mayor's footman was stuffed with; but as it really didn't in the least matter which it was, she did not say so. "So henceforward," said the sprite, giving his locks one final shake, and looking up into her face, "I am to be your guide. Let us start on our travels at once, for it grows late. Pass out of the bower, cross the turf, and meet me where the firs border the plantation." And Etta found herself again alone. "They all seem to fancy I know my way about here," she said to herself; and though it really is very odd, I half fancy I do myself." When she had emerged from the bower, and found herself standing beside an old brick wall which she had not noticed before, she paused to meditate. He spoke of its being late," she said; THE JOURNEY THERE. 33 " and now I come to think of it, it really must be. Long after dark; long after bed-time--" "That's what I'm doing," yawned a very sleepy voice. 'm longing after bed-time." Etta looked round quickly, a little startled to find that the voice she heard was that of one of the two tree-shadows which she had noticed lying cosily side by side as she had entered the arbour. One of them was still resting there comfortably, close to the wall; but the other was sprawling on the grass, and was nodding its head to and fro in the most melancholy manner possible. It was evidently this one that had spoken; for, as Etta turned towards it, it con- tinued to complain sadly. "I shouldn't have expected it of him," it said, "I really shouldn't. To be kicked out of bed by a stranger is bad enough; but by one's own brother! It casts a damper not only on one's body, but on the best affections of one's heart! " And it leant its head forward, and continued to nod as though its neck would break. E 34 .A MOONBEAM TAXGLE. "Little boy," replied the other, in a patronising tone, "it pains me to treat you thus. If I were to allow you to go to bed when you pleased, you would always be in bed. It is my duty-my duty as an elder brother-to bring you up hardy." And, with another prodigious yawn, it turned over on its side. Noble sentiments! sneered the younger; " but weak-oh! very weak-grammar." "I don't want no grammar," retorted the elder. " All I want is a wall. Nuffin like a wall to put your back against when you have to kick a brother out of bed." That's where he has the pull of me," mur- mured the younger. You are mistaken, little boy. That's where I have the push of you." And at the spright- liness of his own remark, the elder brother effectually woke up, and laughed so convulsively that the whole bed shook. "There is a point," muttered the one on the grass, fixing its eye on the moon, "when a shadow, THE JOURNEY THERE. 35 like a worm, will turn. That point is reached." And as it spoke it staggered to its feet. Now Etta saw that it was very angry, and that there was likely to be a desperate fight for the bed. She suddenly recollected, too, that her little guide would be waiting for her at the border of the plantation; so she felt that if she wanted to make peace between the shadows, she would have to make it at once. She accordingly pounced down upon the younger, caught him up by the waist, and before the elder could guess what she was about, she had popped him into bed by his side. Both of them were so astonished at what had happened that they could only lie on their backs and look up, blinking, into her face. "There!" she said, shaking her finger at the elder; "if you kick him out again, I'll come back and put him nearest to the wall. And if you," she continued, turning to the younger, "sneer at him about his grammar, I'll let you lie on the grass till morning." Neither replied: both continued to blink in 36 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. the greatest astonishment, and so Etta turned away as if to go; but stepping behind the trunk of a great oak, waited to see what would happen. Thinking she was gone, the younger shadow turned to the elder, and whispered in a very hypo- critical tone :- "My anger, dearest brother, I will do my best to smother; Of your many little failings 1 will cease to speak. I will no more contradict you, though one sentiment I'll stick to: That however strong your legs may be your grammar's weak!" "Th'en I'll treat you as I find you," replied the elder, ominously; "and I may as well remind you Of a certain little proverb-let those laugh who win : That though the night air's still, out of bed it's damp and chilly; And that though you're back beside me, you are not tucked in !" "Tuck me in Tuck me in!" bellowed the younger piteously, as the elder planted his back THE JOURNEY THERE. 37 firmly against the wall and gathered up his legs. Etta darted from behind her tree, dragged a great coverlet of leaves right over the shadows' faces, and shook them both up together. Then she listened attentively. Is very, very weak !" she heard a stifled voice call out, evidently in reference to the grammar; and another voice, which sounded like that of the elder brother, mutter, Nuffin like a wall! "Well," she said, in despair, "you'll have to fight it out be- tween yourselves." And gathering up her dress, she turned and sped away towards the great belt of firs which girdled the plantation. CHAPTER II. BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. ETTA reached the outskirts of the plantation with- out meeting with further adventures, and there found, seated beneath one of the dark-boughed, sweet-scented firs, her little guide awaiting her. He leapt to his feet as he saw her approach, and, doffing his jewelled cap, advanced to meet her. "I hope you are not growing impatient," she said. " What with tree-shadows to look after, and trees themselves to thread one's way between, one can't travel very fast in these parts." At that he placed one of his hands upon his heart, and with his cap still held in the other, bowed so low that his curly locks almost swept the ground. "I am your Page," he said, with deep 1BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 39 reverence, "appointed by the King to do your bidding." Etta gazed at him in admiration, and blew him a kiss. Your manners," she said, "are as charm- ing as your livery." She felt inclined to kiss him outright; but abstained, reflecting that he was her Page, and that it would not be etiquette to do so. "May I guide you to the Bramble Glade ? lie asked, replacing his cap on his curls; "the spot where we assemble to arrange our midnight sports." Delightful!" cried Etta, clapping her hands together. "Lead on, little Page, and I will follow! " .Without further ado her guide turned, and flitted rapidly ahead. Shall I sing to you as I fly ?" lie paused to ask. Yes. Sing to me of the night," said Etta, overcome by the solemn beauty of the hour. His jewelled wings flashed as he hovered in front of her in the banded moon-rays; and she kept her eyes fixed upon him as she ran along 40 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. lightly in his wake. Soon his sweet, clear voice fell upon her ear. These were his words:- NIGHT SONG. When hush-voiced Night, with fingers light, Has led mankind into Dreamy-land; When odours sweet of the red-brown peat Come wafted from where the pine-stoles stand; Young Jack-o'-the-Hedge and Lady Sedge Go rambling together by brooklet and wold, And the dew-maid hems with clustered gems The frock of the gay marsh-marigold. Each gurgling rill can babble and trill, And dimple and laugh to its heart's content; And the woodbine gay throw its swinging spray Round the neck of the maple, on love intent; The moon-beams bright on the turf alight, And kiss the daisies which nestle there; And the fays take their fill, over valley and hill, Of the love and laughter that freight the air." By the time the song was finished the two had reached a grassy knoll beneath the branches of a giant oak, and there Etta paused to take breath. She had scarcely recovered it when she became BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 41 aware of a most importunate babel of voices, clamouring loudly high above her head. Gazing up between the interwoven branches, she discovered .pf'- t* /, ",.4 -^ ^ :L L the exact spot from whence it proceeded. On one of the topmost boughs was a hawk's nest, over the edge of which half-a-dozen bare little heads, supported by as many outstretched bare little necks, were to be seen vociferously demanding F 42 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. food. Bending over the nest, with warning finger, endeavouring to quell the excitement of a large family of fledglings, was a fay. "Hush little ones," she was whispering softly. Be patient !" Now Etta's curiosity was aroused, for this was the first fairy of her own sex whom she had seen. " Who is she?" she asked of the Page, in a low voice. "A Sister of Mercy," he replied. "No !" said Etta, incredulously; "she can hardly be that. Look at her hat." "A bonnet is unnecessary," replied the Page, a little hurt at being disbelieved. "A Sister of Mercy is none the less a Sister of Mercy because she wears a hat." "Well," said Etta, "they certainly never do so in my world." Perhaps they don't have to climb trees so often in your world," suggested the Page. "No," replied Etta, a little shocked at the idea. " I've certainly never seen a Sister of Mercy climb a tree. Why should she, indeed ? " BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 43 Why, to still the cries of the fledglings, to be sure. Why shouldn't she? argued the Page. Then Etta laughed, as people will do when a new idea suddenly dawns upon them. I'll tell you why, you dear little Page," she said. "It is because the fledglings which the Sisters of Mercy tend in my world are real babies, and not bird babies. That's why." "I'd rather tend bird babies," cried the fairy, from above, who, though she had appeared not to hear what was being said, had really been listening all the time. "Why ? Etta asked. Oh, for many reasons," replied the Sister of Mercy. "For instance, bird babies soon get fledged, and other babies never do." "Not all over, certainly," replied Etta, cau- tiously. "But I've often seen them with feathers in their hats." She did not care to have real babies run down. "Bird babies sing much earlier," continued the Sister of Mercy. 44 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Etta ruminated. Real babies crow very early," she said, stoutly. "Perhaps they don't get so many lob-worms given to them," suggested the Page. "No," cried Etta, who was very glad to get some one to say a word in favour of real babies, "not nearly; and yet they crow early." And feeling very triumphant in having got the better of the argument thus far, she thought she had better cut it short; so she leant forward and whispered, "Lead on Page! And the Page led on. Out again from under the spreading branches into the glorious moonlight, tripping lightly over the soft carpet of grass to the beat of her Page's jewelled wings, and never feeling fatigued, Etta sped along. By towering elms, which stood out massively against the deep blue sky; by straight- stoled ashes, which drooped their branches in great leafy cascades a hundred feet above her head; by scented firs; by silver-stemmed birches; and yet she never tired. One dark-leaved denizen of the planta- tion attracted her attention while she was yet far. BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY, 45 from it. As she neared it, she observed that it had apparently been riven by lightning; one of its limbs being missing, and the portion of the trunk from which it was severed showing forth white and jagged. The ground sloped down gently from its base towards the level stretch of turf which bordered the plantation. As Etta reached the knoll which it formed, she was intensely surprised to observe a huge pile of pennies, surmounted by a black board, which bore, in great white characters, the following inscription:- "Sranc Sani. "The smallest contributions thankfully received." Before this notice the Page drew up, and whispered, One penny to pay." "Gladly," said Etta, throwing a penny on to the pile; "but what for ?" "Ah tell her," sobbed somebody. Etta looked up, a little startled, thinking it was the tree which had spoken; but if it were, it was certainly able to control its expression most 46 A MOONBEAM3 TANGLE. marvellously. She had rarely seen a tree look more.unconscious of having made a remark. "They are going to make a new limb for it," whispered the Page, pointing to the riven trunk; "and limbs are rather expensive." And is that to pay for it? asked Etta, sink- ing her voice. Yes; it's a branch bank, you see," replied the Page. "There's scarcely enough yet, I'm afraid," he continued, reflectively, "to make a very big one. "Why, you don't mean to say they are going to make a limb out of the pennies; are they?" whispered Etta, not quite understanding. "Yes; the tree's a Copper-beech, you know," explained the Page. Oh, I see," murmured Etta, feeling a little bewildered nevertheless. Perhaps you would like to hear its history," suggested the Page. "Well, yes," replied Etta, "if it's not very long, I think I should." BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 47 "Tell it," urged the Page, in an encouraging tone, turning to the tree. For a few moments the Copper-beech seemed to be turning the question over in its mind; then it replied in a husky voice- "I am willing, I am willing; it may bring us all relief. Though the incidents are thrilling, I'll endeavour to be brief. Oh bend your head in sympathy, and let your salt tears flow, For each one who pays her penny makes a point of doing so." "Have you your handkerchief ready ? whis- pered the Page. "Alas! no," replied Etta, after feeling in her pocket. I haven't got one." "Bring her a dock leaf," cried the Beech, imperiously. And it was not till one had been brought, and Etta was holding it in readiness to staunch her tears, that the tree would consent to sing. "Will you make the usual announcements? " it asked, turning to the Page. 48 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. With pleasure," replied the Page; and then, in a formal manner, shouted out, His parentage !" The Beech swayed itself to and fro, and then trolled out the following:- THE SONG OF THE COPPER-BEECH. My father, I'm told, in the days of old, was a fine old family tree, Who used to reside at the sad sea-side with my aged mother and me. I am pained to relate that their direful fate was to shelter a smuggler band, And to share in their plot was their first-born's lot-their plot by the ribbed sea-sand." "His earliest recollections !" announced the Page; and the Copper-beech proceeded:- "When I first raised my head from my little brown bed, my mother cried, 'Now for his name.' But my father replied, as the waves lie eyed, 'Oh bother. They're all the same. He's a good deal too near to the water, my dear. I trust he's beyond its reach.' 'Happy thought!' answered she, as she turned to me, 'Suppose we christen him Beech !'" BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 49 "His youth!" announced the Page; and the Copper-beech continued:- "I grew and I grew till all was blue; I became so strong and so tall. I shot up above my early love--a blush-rose that blushed on the wall. I'd the handsomest shoots and the tidiest roots-so I've oft heard my mother say- That- ever you'd see on a youthful tree in the course of a summer's day." "His departure, and the effect it had on one of his aged parents announced the Page; and the Copper-beech again caught up the strain:- "As the years rolled by, I began to sigh for a little excitement and change; So I flitted apace, and took up my place in the woods of Bubbleby Grange. But soon after I left, my poor mother, bereft, enveloped herself in gloom; And ere six months had sped o'er her aged head, she hied to the silent tomb." "The tragic manner in which he now became an orphan!" announced the Page. But the G 50 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Copper-beech was weeping, and it was some time before it could manage its last verse. It ran as follows:- "When I come to tell of what next befell--how the heart of my father broke- My sorrow increases: he was chopped into pieces, and ended his days in smoke. From all home-ties now torn, an orphan forlorn, I determined, with many a sigh, To take up this station and seek consolation from the pennies of passers by." "It is rather melancholy," murmured Etta. Yes," blubbered the wretched orphan ; " you'll find that dock leaf very handy. There's only one penny extra to pay for it, and we won't be particular about time. When you've quite finished with it you can hand it over to me." Etta felt constrained to make some pretence of passing it over her eyes; then, handing it to the Copper-beech, she said: "I wouldn't deprive you of it for worlds, you poor, poor thing!" After a pause, she continued, And now, if you BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 51 are sufficiently recovered, you shall tell me how you came to lose your limb." "Tell her," whispered the Beech to the Page, with intense sadness; I can't." "There was an awful hurricane; and it selected the poor orphan to break upon," replied the Page. "It had to," murmured the orphan. "It had to," solemnly repeated the Page. Suddenly stooping down, the Copper-beech caught up the branch bank to its bosom, and shaking the vast collection of pennies together by way of an accompaniment, trolled out in an agonised voice: Chorus : Oh the wind and the rain-waves broke, As they always do break, on me! For if a wave break upon anything It must break on the Beech ; d'ye see " A willow listening to the chorus, and musing on the unrelenting habit of fate, wept bitterly, and deliberately sat down amongst some sur- 52 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. rounding ashes; and two firs which were standing by bent their feathery heads into little arches, and pined for those better times which, they felt assured, must be in store for their poor cousin. "It really is very sad," murmured Etta. "I think we will contribute another penny, and move on." And no sooner was the penny contributed than the Page flapped his wings, and moved onwards, Etta following. "Sh-sh!" exclaimed the guide, suddenly coming to a full stop; and then, stepping softly behind a bush, pointed through it towards some- thing on the other side. Etta moved up beside him, and peeped between the leaves which he held apart. Lying before her on its back was a yellow snail-shell, black-barred and shiny, over which was leaning a very small sprite, with very long eyelashes. Come, gee-up!" he was saying, as he looked down into the depths of the shell. "It's time I was beginning my watch. The eggs will be getting cold." BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 53 "Full time," whispered the Page in a severe tone to Etta. As the snail-shell still lay upon its back with- out attempting to move, the sprite thrust a grass wand which he held in his hand down into the depths of it, and began in a very matter of fact way to rake it about. -4$ Don't! You tickle !" said something from the depths, in rather a squelchy voice. Gee-up then Gee-up exclaimed the sprite. If the Page were to pop down upon us we should get reported." Etta looked at the Page, and the Page winked. 54 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. I've never felt the loss of my wings so much as I have since you've been told off to me to make up for them," observed the sprite, complainingly. " Directly you've gobbled up your allowance, you always go off to sleep. I tell you what it is, old fellow "-another prod with the wand-" I shall dock your rations." The shell rolled over lazily on its side; two horns protruded from it, and finally half a body. The little sprite then vaulted on to its back; and the snail, urged forward by sundry prods from the wand, proceeded slowly to climb up the trunk of the tree, and out upon one of its lower branches. Following with her eyes the direction in which it was moving, Etta caught sight of a bird's nest, tucked into a little sheltered bower of leaves. Upon arriving at this the sprite halted, and took up his post to watch the eggs. The snail then turned, to make its way down again, and, arriving at the spot where Etta had first seen it, began voraciously to eat a large leaf. I don't know what he meant by saying he would dock my BRAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 55 allowance. It's dock already," it remarked; " and," it continued, taking another huge mouth- ful, remarkably fine dock too." The Page had arisen, and was proceeding on his way. Etta now trotted up abreast of him. \V ' *." -' "What did the sprite mean when he spoke about being reported?" she asked. "He meant," replied the Page, "that he had been appointed to look after that nest. His duty is to feel the eggs from time to time when the 56 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. old bird is away; and if he finds them getting cold, then to call her back again. The King doesn't like the eggs to get cold, you know." "Nor do I," said Etta, thinking of one morn- ing when she had the misfortune to come down very late for breakfast; "I know of nothing so unpleasant as a cold egg." Considering that the remark was perhaps a little too general, she added, "Soft-boiled, you know; not hard." But the Page was not to be drawn into ex- pressing an opinion on the egg question. His thoughts were evidently still running on the guilt of the sprite. "He was late-very late- in performing his duty," he said, with some severity. It's true," he added, reflectively, " that his snail is a very lazy one." "Has each sprite got a snail ? asked Etta. Only those who have lost their wings," replied the Page. They are allowed one snail each, and fodder." "Then have some of the sprites lost their wings ?" asked Etta, reflecting that a wing would BIAMBLE GLADE. THE ENTRY. 57 be about the last thing that a person could lose, and feeling a little bewildered. How did they come to lose them, pray ?" "Well," replied the Page, evasively, "it's rather a delicate subject. Perhaps you had better ask them themselves. Here we are at the Bramble Glade, and there are lots of them within." ,,zI '. i- ' Yes, there they indeed were, at the entrance to the Bramble Glade; and at sight of it Etta gave a cry of delight, and bounded forward. Sloping towards it in gentle undulations, the turf seemed H 58 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. to form a thicker and softer carpet than any she had yet trodden; and on either side a thousand glow-worms stood like sentries to line the approach. None of them moved a muscle as Etta, following her guide, trotted on between them. It is very questionable whether sentries can. They certainly never do. These only glowed, and that they did to perfection. When Etta had passed the last of them, the Page stepped suddenly on one side, and, taking off his jewelled hat with a low bow, made way for her to pass. Before her was a great arch of bramble boughs, through which she could see a long, leafy corridor. Crowding up to the entrance were hundreds of bright-eyed little sprites, who were all crying "Welcome !" As far as her eye could travel into the recesses of the hall, more bright-eyed little sprites were assembled to greet her; and with one voice they too were crying "Welcome!" She felt her own eyes brighten as she passed under the archway, and stood beneath a great vaulted roof in their midst. There's music in your voices," she cried, beaming down upon the BRAMBLE GTADE. THE ENTRY. 59 whole array of them. If there's one thing in the world I love to be, it is "-and she paused, with her finger upon her lips. What ? what ?" they demanded, clustering round her in hundreds, and leaning forward with their hands held to their ears to catch her reply. Welcome !" she whispered, with a rapturous little laugh. CHAPTER III. THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." WHEN Etta recovered from her first surprise after her entry into the Bramble Glade, and her eyes began to grow accustomed to the subdued light, she managed to look about her. The first objects to attract her attention were a number of gaily- emblazoned shields which hung at the further end of the hall, and illustrated various mottoes inscribed beneath them. These seemed familiar to her. " The surly bird becomes infirm; " Take care of the animals, and the pounds will take care of them- selves;" "The nearer the friend the deeper the cut; " Still wines send you to sleep," she was able to read; at others she had merely time to glance. The air which blew through the leafy walls was THE SIGN OF THE TWARRBE." 61 delightfully warm and balmy, and she observed with approval that all the little creatures about her were very suitably clad. Some wore closely-fitting garments made of the lightest frog-skin; others had on dresses woven of flower petals; whilst the wardrobe of one, who appeared to be engaged in writing verses with a wand of grass upon a bramble-leaf, seemed to consist solely of a warm pair of knitted eyebrows. To be sure there was not much furniture in the place; but then, .as Etta reasoned with herself, what does one want with furniture where the turf is a carpet, and every mound a delicious cushion ? She was still looking about her, taking observations, when the Page suddenly announced, The Master of the Cere- monies !" and, looking down, she found the little dignitary alluded to kneeling on the ground before her, gazing up reverently into her face with a pair of mild blue eyes. "Well?" she asked, encouragingly. He consulted an immense roll of notes which he held in his hand. You'll make me nervous if you 62 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. talk so much," he said. Then he swelled out his chest to its utmost capacity, and exclaimed, "Behold the fruit which contains the gift of the King !" "Where ? asked Etta. After again hurriedly consulting his notes, he pointed towards the further end of the hall, and there she saw a gigantic blackberry, posted around which sentry glow-worms were keeping guard. "Let us hold a meeting," cried one of the assembly; and the others ranged themselves in widening circles round Etta and the Master of the Ceremonies and the blackberry. "But what does the fruit contain?" asked Etta, unable to restrain her curiosity. "Tell! shouted the Master of the Ceremonies, turning towards it. And no sooner was the magical word uttered than down the blackberry fell divided in two pieces, disclosing the most exquisite little pair of wings it had ever been Etta's lot to behold. "Oh-h-h !" she exclaimed, rapturously, as she bounded forward. THE SIGN OF "THE WABREN." 63 "I must protest," called out the sprite who had been writing; I really must." "Enter it in the books!" shouted back the Master of the Ceremonies. "Entered! cried the sprite, after scratching the bramble-leaf with his wand. Why do you protest ? asked the Master. The other scratched his ear doubtfully, and drew his knitted brows closer over his eyes. "Because it is always some one's duty to protest at a meeting," he said, after a pause; and then murmured softly, "and Fayland expects that every sprite this night will do his duty; every one present chiming in at the last word. "Quite true," replied the Master. "It is indeed a solemn and a beautiful thought!" And he became lost in a reverie as he reflected over its many advantages. Hadn't we better be getting on ?" asked Etta, a little impatiently. The Master recalled his wandering thoughts. "At so supreme a moment, perhaps we had," he 64 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. said. "Allow me to present the gift." He stepped forward as he spoke, and lifting the delicately woven wings in his hand, attached them lightly to Etta's shoulders. "They fit beautifully," she exclaimed, after she had moved them gently to and fro. "Convey my thanks to the King." And two messengers sped down the hall and away through the archway into the moonlight. "And now we are on the subject of wings," she continued, may I ask how it is that some of you have them, whilst others have not ? " Those who had not, averted their faces, and Etta suddenly remembered that her Page had warned her of the painfulness of the subject. " Oh I am so sorry! she exclaimed, impulsively feeling in her pocket for some sweets to distribute, as all right-minded maidens would do under such circumstances. Don't tell me how you lost your wings unless you like to, you dear little things." "Do you know, I really think we might tell her," suggested the Master of the Ceremonies. THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." 65 "We might! we might!" responded the assembly, putting its head thoughtfully on one side. It might relieve our feelings," continued the first speaker. "It relieved the Copper-beech's," said Etta, encouragingly. But recollecting that she had come to an end of her pennies, she secretly deter- mined that whatever might happen she would accept the loan of no more dock-leaves. "We will tell her!" exclaimed the Master, with sudden determination. Then, seating himself directly opposite to her, he sang the following, confidentially :-- HOW THE WINGLESS SPRITES BECAME WINGLESS. Once the sun had climbed high in a cloudless blue sky, And his rays on the earth were alighting; We were tired with play, and the heat of the day Made the water look very inviting. So we loosened the strings of our gossamer wings, And next we stepped out of our dresses. I 66 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. So soft was the gleam of our silvery stream: So cool were the wavelets' caresses 1 "First we dabbled our toes where the troutlets repose, And we gazed at the swift swallows skimming; Then we plunged in apace, and we started in chase: We are all pretty good hands at swimming. It was not long before we espied, on the shore, A maiden forlornly a-walking. Her head was bent low, as she paced to and fro, And aloud to herself she was talking. "In a choked voice she said, Now I would I were dead ! (Her poor eyes with tear-drops were brimming.) This hat is a fright and from morning till night I go searching in vain for some trimming !' And it then came to pass that she saw, on the grass, These wings we had left, and forgotten. She turned softly round, took a seat on the ground, And whipped out a needle and cotton. It was done in a trice; and, 'I think that looks nice 1' She said, in a tone of reflection. Then she rose up and went, with a sigh of content, And we-put on our clothes in dejection. THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." 07 "Then we thought of the cost of these wings we had lost, And we grew rather solemn about them. But we've altered our mind since we've each come to find We can do pretty fairly without them." The song ended, all the sprites, who had shivered fitfully when the needle and cotton and such items were mentioned, slapped one another on the back, and repeated, "We can do pretty fairly without them." I'm sure you can," exclaimed Etta, cheerfully. "And now tell me, Has the song relieved your feelings ?" Most of them," replied the assembly. And we can easily drown the others," chimed in the Master of the Ceremonies, as though he were speaking of a litter of puppies-" in work. Be off, all of you, and bid our sisters to the tryst! Let the spot be the gates of Bubbleby Grange, and the hour that at which the moon has climbed above the tallest railing." "Houp-la!" cried the assembly. And then trooped away with the utmost eagerness to convey 68 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. the message. In a few moments the leafy hall was almost empty, only a couple of attendants remaining behind to take further orders. "And now we are alone, let's have supper," exclaimed the Master of the Ceremonies, somewhat greedily. The question is, Do you like Welsh rabbit?" "The answer is, I've never tried it," replied Etta. He looked surprised. Then let me strongly recommend you to," he said; and if you don't at first succeed, try, try, try again. I'll serve you one up." "First catch your rabbit, then cook him," remarked one of the attendants, thoughtfully. "That's the duty of the Black-and-tan," observed the other; and then added softly, "and Fayland expects that every dog this night will do his duty! the others joining in, as usual, at the word duty. The Master of the Ceremonies leapt to his feet. exclaiming, "So hey for the bold Black-and-tan!" THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." 69 And in the most unceremonious manner the three rushed out into the moonlight. "In quest of the supper, I presume," said Etta to the Page. And as he nodded, she gathered up her skirts and gave chase. When the two had emerged from the hall, Etta caught sight of a low swinging bough some thirty or forty yards off, seated upon which, and talking earnestly with the dearest little Terrier it had ever been her lot to behold, were two of the three sprites. "What's the use of a rabbit unless he's k9 70 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Welsh?" the Master of the Ceremonies was asking, as le airily waved his hand. Thinking this was a riddle, and fearing that it might be given up before she could arrive, Etta called out, on the impulse of the moment, "Non- sense Any other is just as useful. For instance, a Russian." "Wrong! shouted the Master of the Cere- monies. "I dismiss the appeal with costs. A Rush'un is as full of pith as the calf of a Lord Mayor's footman, and is only ornamental, not useful. What says the Terrier? Are there any Welsh to be had ? " The Terrier yelped seven times distinctly. Which, being interpreted, means that there's a whole family of seven who have taken a warren in the neighbourhood, if he could but discover its whereabouts," explained the faithful Page. "Chase two of our old friends past, and. we'll cross-examine them," said the Master of the Cere- monies to the dog. He dismounted from the bough as he spoke, and, followed by the two THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." 71 attendants, secreted himself in the dense foliage which hemmed in the glade. "What shall we see?" asked Etta, as she stepped behind the trunk of an oak on the other side, towards which the Page had beckoned her. "Sport," he replied, briefly, and stroked her wings. She moved them gently to and fro, and began to feel almost as light on her feet as she did in her heart. In the meantime the Black-and-tan had scam- pered away over the turf and was now out of sight. Perfect stillness reigned; and Etta, looking down the moonlit glade, became lost in a reverie. She must have nearly fallen asleep, for after a little while she found herself debating whether, under any circumstances whatever, it might become the duty of a Flap-doodle to change its name; and if so, under what circumstances. When she had arrived at this stage, her meditations were suddenly cut short by the sharp bark of the Terrier, and by the sound of pattering footsteps. Stepping forward eagerly, and peeping out from behind the tree- 72 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. trunk, she saw, racing along towards her, two elderly but swift-footed rabbits. On they came, shoulder to shoulder, with even stride. She felt her heart beat faster as they neared the spot where the sprites were concealed. They were twenty yards off-ten-they were passing it! Suddenly the branches parted, and with lightning-like dex- terity the Master of the Ceremonies and one of his attendants leapt forth and vaulted upon the backs of the panic-stricken bunnies. On they flew, like greased lightning, Etta and the Page now following in close pursuit. The hair of the riders streamed THE SIGN OF "THE TVARREN." 73 out behind them as the pace grew faster and faster; and Etta felt her own doing the same, as, with feet scarce touching the ground, she sped along with the trusty Page in their wake. Before the end of the glade was reached, the rabbits seemed to recover their presence of mind. "I'm getting hot," observed one of them, slightly slackening his pace. "You shouldn't wear fur in summer, my gay old buck," remarked his rider, winking at his companion as he gave the unfortunate animal a prod with a grass wand he had snatched up in the gallop. "Yoicks! exclaimed the rabbit, impulsively; but immediately correcting himself, halloed faintly, " Tally-ho!" "Pull up!" shouted the Master of the Cere- monies. And the two rabbits were pulled up with a horrid jerk close beside a luxuriant bed of sow- thistles. "They look pretty succulent," he continued, thoughtfully, giving his steed a prod to attract his J 74 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. attention, and pointing with his wand to the thistles. "They do. Dash my whiskers! they do," replied the old rabbit, licking his lips. "Split my ear and put my toe through it if I've ever seen finer thistles!" chimed in the other. "Humph! ejaculated the Master of the Cere- monies. Oh, certainly," replied one of the steeds, who appeared to be rather nervous after what had happened; and the other murmured politely, "With pleasure, I'm sure." "It strikes me you are a pair of old bachelors," remarked the attendant, suddenly noticing that they hadn't so much as a single shirt button to share between them. "We are, we are!" they replied in a breath, with such feeling that Etta expected them to add, "Thank heaven but they abstained. "Not fond of baby-rabbits, I presume," con- tinued the attendant. THE SIGN OF "THE WAB EN." 75 "Can't abide 'em," responded the old bachelors, without a moment's hesitation. They gobble up the thistles like Colorado beetles." We want to adopt one," exclaimed the Master of the Ceremonies, benevolently. "There's an old Welsh lady with a whole family of them some- where in the neighbourhood. The question is, Where is she to be found ?" "At the sign of 'The Warren,' promptly responded the steeds; and then paused, as though they had been tempted into saying too much. Take us to the sign of The Warren,' urged the Master of the Ceremonies, gently, and you shall spend all the rest of the night among the sow-thistles. There " "And wouldn't the old lady just comb our hair for us, neither; that's all! exclaimed the two, relapsing into very undignified language at the thought. "She wouldn't see you," urged the tempter, artfully edging his steed a little nearer to the bank. "And think of the sow-thistles! " 76 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. The old bachelors could hold out no longer. They simply swung round on their hind legs and sped off with their riders in search of the family. Doubling back along the glade, they soon reached open country, and crossing a couple of fields, came to a tall hedge, at which they drew up. Etta, who arrived with the Page a moment later, peeped through it, and described on the other side a little range of sandy, yellow mountains, above which swung the sign of "The Warren." Hard by the largest of these sat an old lady-rabbit, surrounded by seven as dear little babies as a mother's heart could wish. They were as round as powder-puffs, and softer; and each of their pretty little tails showed white against the green grass as they frisked merrily at play. The Master of the Cere- monies and his companion now silently dismounted, and the two old bachelors made off, looking rather ashamed of themselves, as from time to time they turned to cast a glance behind. Etta watched the sprites with the greatest interest, wondering what would happen next, yet THE SIGN OF THE WARRENN" 77 fearing to ask a question, even of the faithful Page. Seizing an opportune moment when the old lady- rabbit's back was turned, the Master of the Cere- monies suddenly stepped through the hedge, and deftly caught up one of the babies by its long flapping ears. His movements were almost noise- less, yet not so noiseless as to escape the ear of the anxious mother. Rapidly turning her head, she caught sight of him. He had concealed the baby behind his back, and now bowed to her in the most polite manner imaginable; but without so much as a nod in return, she began counting over 78 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. her darlings. "One, two, three, four, five, six," Etta heard her mutter to herself. "Where's the seventh ? she asked, eyeing the thief sternly. "No, no, you mistake," he said, soothingly. "The seventh must have been yourself." Notwithstanding the tone he employed, his words failed to satisfy the anxious mother. "How many are you? she asked, turning to her family. The most intelligent-looking of the number abstractedly scratched his ear with his toe, and replied softly, We are seven." Search the galleries," cried the mother, giving two sounding thuds on the ground with her hind legs ; and then added, C-nf-s-n t-ke th-m " "Her native tongue-Welsh," murmured the Page to Etta, in explanation. "It's not! cried the mother, indignantly. She had overheard. "She means it's tied into one," whispered the Page. Etta began to wonder how she would untie it, THE SIGN OF THE WARREN." 79 and decided that whatever language she might learn, it should certainly never be Welsh. In a few moments the six, who had scampered into the caves, looked out and exclaimed unani- mously, "Not at home !" Barricade the entrances and get to bed," cried the mother, in a heart-broken voice. And no sooner was the order given than all the little grey noses were withdrawn, and showers of earth ap- peared in their stead. In a few moments the entrances were completely blocked. "And now," said the heart-broken mother, turning to the Master of the Ceremonies, "I shall indulge in three hysterics and die." Her eyes shone upon him like burnished brass. May the sign of 'The Warren' creak above you when I am no more, as it has often, of old, creaked above me," she cried; and rolling over on her side with a con- vulsive struggle, she whispered in a sepulchral voice, "One!" "Cold water!" cried the Master of the Cere- monies, nervously. But nobody fetched any. 80 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Two !" whispered the old rabbit, with another convulsive gasp. Burn a feather under her nose!" roared one of the attendants to the other, who had just arrived upon the scene. Three !" muttered the mother, indulging in her last hysteric, and permitting her limbs to stiffen. The three sprites gathered round the body in the utmost alarm; and the intelligent baby seized the opportunity for wriggling out of its captor's hand. The usual funeral rites, I suppose ?" inquired one of the attendants. The other nodded, and at once turned aside to shed a few pious tears. Six armfuls of leaves will be wanted," ob- served the Master of the Ceremonies, taking the measurement of the poor bunny. And then all three solemnly departed to fetch them. All this time Etta had remained behind the hedge. So quickly had the death come about THE SIGN OF THE WARREN." 81 that she had only had time to pity, not to render aid. She was just about to step forward, when, to her astonishment, she saw one of the eyes of the dead rabbit unclose; and, a moment later, the dead rabbit herself jump up, place her arm Irk seemed somewhat startled, but immediately re- K 82 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. covering herself, she blew a kiss to Etta through the hedge, murmuring melodiously, "'Twas but a little pious fraud," in the notes of which Etta recognized her old friend, the Little Faded Flower. Then she waltzed away among the mountains, only pausing for a moment to call out, "Good evening!" "The doors are barricaded!" cried Etta. The front doors," shouted the old rabbit, cor- recting her. But what matter? We are not proud. We'll go in at the back." The words came very faintly, for she was already far away. That is as knowing an old rabbit as I have ever met," exclaimed Etta to herself, reflectively. Just then she heard the footsteps of the returning sprites, and she waited with some curiosity to see what would happen. When they reached the hedge they came to a standstill, and searched about for the body. Not finding it, they seemed at first to imagine that they had mistaken the spot; but having reassured themselves on that point, they began to look serious. After a few THE SIGN OF THE WARREN." 83 moments had elapsed, during which neither of them spoke, the Master of the Ceremonies ex- claimed, in a mortified tone, "It strikes me we shed those pious drops a little too soon." Just then the sign of The Warren" gave an ominous creak, and they all started nervously. Pausing to mutter something about its being time they were back at the Glade, just to save their dignity, they turned and fled. Shall we follow?" asked the Page, who had for some time been sitting with his back propped up against a hemlock stem, ruminating. Etta flapped her wings and said, Yes." As they sped along, side by side, she asked, What comes next, Page ? " The tryst at Bubbleby Grange," he answered, promptly, turning a somersault in the air out of pure gladness of heart. Then the Glade was reached, and the double line of glowing sentries was passed, and Etta found herself once more in the leafy hall, among the assembled sprites. 84 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. What are your ages ? she asked, imagining, as she looked down upon them, that they had grown a little in stature during her absence. "Four," they replied, unanimously. "How very, very odd!" she exclaimed. What is ? they inquired. Why," replied Etta, that you should all be the same age, and that that age should be four." We must solemnly protest that the age ot a sprite can't be odd," observed the Master of the Ceremonies, earnestly, shaking his head from side to side. Many other things may be, you know," he continued, kindly. For instance"- and he began to warble:- A flap-doodle may be, or a two-headed baby, Or a whistling oyster or cod." But whatever you make of it," chimed in the assembly, our davies we'll take of it That the age of a sprite can't be odd." THE SIGN OF THE WARREN." 85 "A grampus," continued the Master of the Ceremonies, thought- fully, "may look it; a mud-pie, if you cook it; Or a pin with a head that will nod." But whatever you make of it," chimed in the assembly, our davies we'll take of it That the age of a sprite can't be odd." And pray why can't it ? asked Etta, feeling a little irritated by the intensely positive tone in which the assembly had shouted. If you all really happen to be four years old, your ages are even, I will allow; but to say that the age of a sprite can't be odd, is absurd." We are rarely any other age than four," re- plied the Master of the Ceremonies. And the as- sembly softly shook its head, and murmured once more, Whatever you make of it, our davies we'll take of it, that the age of a sprite can't be odd." 86 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. "I don't care how rarely you are any other age," said Etta, feeling it her duty to enlighten their ignorance. If you are ever five years old, or say, for instance, three, then your ages may be odd." No," persisted the Master of the Ceremonies, " they would still be even." And pray, how could that be ?" asked Etta. Well, you see," he replied, softly, "five or three would be such an exceptional age that it would be even five, or even three." "Whatever you make of it, our davies we'll take of it," croaked the assemblage. If you do," cried Etta, pressing her hands to her ears, and stamping her foot on the ground, "you will drive me mad." Read a proverb," whispered the Master of the Ceremonies, in a tone of the utmost concern, " read a proverb. I know of nothing like a pro- verb to put one right when one's wrong." And he took Etta by the arm, and led her gently to the long array of scrolls at the end of the hall, THE SIGN OF "THE WARREN." 87 on which the devices were emblazoned. When I've once repeated to myself, 1Te surly bird be- comes infirm, or even Take care of the animals and fte pounds will take care of themselves, I feel-I feel-oh! I know not how right I feel!" And he clasped his hands together, and gazed in an ecstasy at the inscriptions. As a trivet," suggested Etta. I don't think it's a trivet," said the Master, thoughtfully. As ninepence," suggested Etta. "That's it! that's it!" he cried, a great joy taking possession of him. "As right as nine- pence!" Then, observing that Etta was reading, he asked, softly, Do they comfort you? " "Not much," replied Etta, gazing down into his mild, blue eyes; "not much." "Ah, it takes some little time before you can feel their effects," he murmured, a little dis- appointedly, as he felt her pulse. You mustn't expect too much of them, you know." "I won't," said Etta, earnestly. 'A MOONBEAM TANGLE. I always think it's unkind to expect too much of a proverb," he continued, dreamily; "though I will say they're wonderfully staunch as a rule." After a short pause he clambered up on the pedestal which, earlier in the night, had supported the gigantic blackberry that held Etta's wings, and shouted out, What say our sisters? " That they will come," answered the assembly. "And the trysting-place ? " The gates of Bubbleby Grange," answered the assembly. "And the hour? " Ten fleeting minutes from this," replied the assembly, which evidently wanted to be off. "Have we ever been known to keep ladies waiting ? " "Never," replied the assembly, impatiently. And never shall be," cried the Master of the Ceremonies. "Yet now that I am up here," he continued, wistfully, "I should keenly enjoy dancing a fandango for you. Of all graceful exercises, I know of nothing like a fandango." THE SIGN OF THE TVARREN." 89 "Can't you postpone it? the assembly entreated. "I suppose I must. But you sympathise with me? " Deeply," replied the assembly. Then the meeting is adjourned," cried the Master of the Ceremonies. And hardly was the dismissal given before the hall was again mar- vellously emptied. Then he looked around, and muttered, "I must do it; I must! And placing his leg about his neck, he hopped gracefully round the pedestal on the very points of his toes. What do you think of it ? he asked, untying himself, and lightly jumping down. "Wonderful!" said Etta. "But a very little of it, I should think, would go a very long way." He looked gratified. Suddenly turning to where the Page was seated on the ground, he exclaimed, in a severe tone, The Page is asleep! " So he was. Etta had almost forgotten her little guide,, and she now began to feel some remorse at her neglect of him. She touched him gently on the shoulder to attract his attention. L 90 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. "You don't suppose that will wake him, do you ?" asked the Master of the Ceremonies, looking at her in surprise. We shall have to roll him over." And suiting the action to the word, he rolled him over. "The answer-they will come; the tryst-the gates of Bubbleby; the hour-ten fleeting minutes from this;" observed the Page, collectedly, as he rubbed his eyes. And you dreamt all that ? asked the Master of the Ceremonies, with a gasp of astonishment. I made a point of doing so," replied the Page, bluntly. "Well," muttered the Master of the Cere- monies, drawing on a pair of goloshes and hurrying down the hall, "a proverb's a useful thing in its way; but a dream-bless my heart, if a dream isn't the handiest thing to have about you on a midsummer night that has yet been invented." And with that he disappeared through the gate- way. "Shall we be off to the doves' roost," asked THE SIGN OF THE WARREN." 91 the Page, to see that the messengers are ready to attend the tryst ? " Etta said Yes," and followed him out into the moonlight, and away towards the plantation. 4 "Do you hear them? he asked, a little later, as he halted under an oak. The softest of cooing reached Etta's ears; and looking up, she saw, seated on a bough, a pair of radiant-winged doves. Two winged sprites were conversing with them, and others were sporting in and out of the leaves and twigs amongst which they 92 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. stood. One of the former had thrown his arm about the neck of one, and the other was explaining something very earnestly to the other; and both the doves were cooing as though they quite under- stood it all, and more too. Were ever voices so sweet and low! "You beauties Etta called up to them. They looked down; and one of the sprites catching sight of the Page, explained that they were just off to the tryst. Whilst he was speaking, the other sprite slipped on his frog-skin overalls, and mounted his feathered steed. "Delightful! cried Etta, clapping her hands. Truly delightful. The Page and I will follow." But looking round, she discovered that the Page had again fallen off to sleep. This is too bad," she said, touching his shoulder. But he did not awake; and so, seeing that both the sprites were mounted, and remembering what the Master of the Ceremonies had said, she called out to them, Turn the Page over!" And the doves descended, and their riders turned the Page over. CHAPTER IV. BUBBLEBY GRANGE. AFTER giving two or three prodigious yawns, and observing Etta's reproachful gaze fixed upon him, the Page murmured, confusedly, "Let us change the subject." Pointing to the two fast receding sprites, who appeared to be growing smaller and smaller in the distance with every wing-beat of the doves which bore them, he took Etta's hand, and whispered softly, "Drink! " Seeing nothing else convenient, she drank in a deep draught of air, as does one who is about to dip her head beneath the waters; upon which the Page cried in a loud voice, Are you ready ? " Off!" exclaimed Etta, without deigning to answer the question. And off they whirled. 94 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Now, this journey was a longer one than ever they had taken before; for even after the plantation was left behind, and the two meadows were crossed, and a bubbling brook was forded, on they went. Suddenly the two doves, on which their eyes had been throughout stead- fastly fixed, wheeled off to the right, and passed beneath an avenue of elms, solemn as the aisle of a church, and much more beautiful. The moon- rays were falling between the branches, and strewing themselves in a netted tracery upon the ground beneath. Gazing down upon the delicate lace-work as she sped lightly over it, Etta gently pressed the Page's hand to attract his attention, and murmured, "I feel as though I were treading on Brussels." Impossible!" he exclaimed; adding, in an assuring tone, You're in Fairyland, you know." There's no doubt about that," murmured Etta to herself; for just then she became aware of the presence of myriads of little people, who were assembled at the further end of the avenue where BUBBLEBY GRANGE. 95 the doves had settled. Looking intently towards them, she discerned a great gateway and an iron railing, and beyond it a lodge. As she drew 96 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. closer, she was able to see that the assembly consisted of little people of both sexes-those of her own being, of course, infinitely the more beautiful. Each of their movements-and they appeared never to be still-was a marvel of grace. From their heads shone star diadems, and their silky tresses waved softly in the air as they swayed, and undulated, and pirouetted in ever-changing groups. They had apparently been awaiting the advent of the winged sprites, for as the two descended they gathered around them. He who had not donned his frog-skin overalls, wand in hand, now leaped lightly upon a stone step in front of the great iron gate; and the fairies, still swaying, and undulating, and pirouetting, grouped themselves about him. They are going to sing-I know they are !" exclaimed Etta. "I won't deny it. They usually do on these occasions," assented the Page. Pausing in her undulations, one of the fays, who had mounted the step by the gate and was BUBBLEBY GRANGE. 97 standing just behind the wand-bearer, gurgled forth melodiously a verse to begin with:- THE TRYST. When the night air caresses our waving tresses, When the dew-wet hours are flying apace, With hearts light-beating, we hold our meeting Once more at our well-loved trysting place." Then one of her sisters caught up the strain:- O'er leafy bowers and sweet-scented flowers The rising moon sheds her silvery beams. Now shadows go creeping, and mortals are sleeping- Wandering far in the land o' dreams." A third proceeded with it:- "Around their dwelling let soft notes swelling Sigh through the air with a cadence sweet. Let winged forms tripping go airily slipping, Just brushing the ground with their twinkling feet." Suddenly wheeling round to a little gnome at her side, and transfixing him with her glance, the first singer imperiously issued an order:-- M 98 A MOONBEAM TANGLE. Small apparition, set forth on thy mission ! Speed through the vale to our glade afar! Away to your duty! Bring forth in their beauty Our carpet of gold and our silver car !" Bowing to the ground with the utmost ceremony, he was apparently going to make a speech in reply, when his mistress, with great presence of mind, tapped her wand upon the step and cut him short:- Right about face, Sir Quicken your pace, Sir ! We would pass through the gates, and the lawn invade. So don't keep us waiting by standing prating, But fly, like the wind, to the Bramble Glade !" The tone she used, and the manner in which she twirled her wand, were so urgent that, without waiting to utter a word in reply, he made off in the direction indicated as fast as his short legs would carry him. Marvellously fast he must have sped, for hardly had Etta time to arrange her thoughts on the subject of his errand before she again caught sight of him. Behind him was the car, glittering |