 Section 15 of the Junior Classics Volume 6 Old-Fashioned Tales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa. The Junior Classics Volume 6 Old-Fashioned Tales A Lost Wand, Part 1 by Jean Ingello. More than a hundred years ago, at the foot of a wild mountain in Norway stood an old castle, which even at the time I write of was so much out of repair as in some parts to be scarcely habitable. In a hall of this castle, a party of children met once on twelfth night to play at Christmas games and dance with little Holda, the only child of the Lord and Lady. The winters in Norway are very cold, and the snow and ice lie for months on the ground. But the night on which these married children met, it froze with more than ordinary severity, and a keen wind shook the trees without and roared in the wide chimneys like thunder. Little Holda's mother, as the evening wore on, kept calling on the servants to heap on fresh logs of wood, and these, when the long flames crept around them, sent up showers of sparks that lit up the brown walls ornamented with the horns of deer and goats, and made it look as cheerful and gay as the faces of the children. Holda's grandmother had sent her a great cake, and when the children had played enough at all the games they could think of, the old gray-headed servants brought it out and set it on the table, together with a great many other nice things such as people eat in Norway, pasties made of reindeer meat, and castles of the sweet pastry sparkling with sugar ornaments of ships and flowers and crowns, and cranberry pies and whipped cream as white as the snow outside. But nothing was admired so much as the great cake, and when the children saw it, they set up a shout which woke the two hounds who were sleeping on the hearths, and they began to bark, which roused all the four dogs in the kennels outside who had not been invited to see either the cake or the games, and they barked too, shaking and shivering with cold, and then a great lump of snow slid down from the roof and fell with a dull sound like distant thunder on the pavement of the yard. Hurrah! cried the children. The dogs and the snow are helping us to shout in honour of the cake. All this time more and more nice things were coming in. Fritters roasted grouse, frosted apples and buttered crabs. As the old servants came shivering along the passages, they said, it is a good thing that children are not late with their suppers. If the confects had been kept long in the larder, they would have frozen on the dishes. Nobody wished to wait at all, so as soon as the supper was ready, they all sat down. More wood was heaped onto the fire, and when the moon shone in at the deep casements and glittered on the dropping snowflakes outside, it only served to make the children more merry over their supper to think how bright and warm everything was inside. This cake was a real treasure, such as in the days of the fairies who still lived in certain parts of Norway was known to be of the kind they loved. A piece of it was always cut and laid outside in the snow in case they should wish to taste it. Holder's grandmother had also dropped a ring into this cake before it was put into the oven, and it is well known that whoever gets such a ring in his or her slice of cake has only to wish for something directly, and the fairies are bound to give it if they possibly can. There have been cases known when the fairies could not give it, and then of course they were not to blame. On this occasion the children said, Let us all be ready with our wishes, because sometimes people have been known to lose them from being so long making up their minds when the ring has come to them. Yes, cried the eldest boy, it does not seem fair that only one should wish. I am the eldest. I begin. I shall wish that twelfth night would come twice a year. They cannot give you that, I am sure," said Friedrich, his brother, who sat by him. Then, said the boy, I wish father may take me with him the next time he goes out bear-shooting. I wish for a white kitten with blue eyes, said a little girl whose name was Teresa. I shall wish to find an amber necklace that does not belong to anyone, said another little girl. I wish to be a king, said a boy whose name was Carl. No, I think I shall wish to be the burgamaster, that I may go on board the ships in the harbor and make their captain show me what is in them. I shall see how the sailors make their sails go up. I shall wish to marry Holda, said another boy, when I am a man, I mean. And besides that, I wish I may find a black puppy in my room at home, for I love dogs. But that is not fair, said the other children. You must only wish for one thing as we did. But I really wish for both, said the boy. If you wish for both, perhaps you will get neither, said little Holda. Well, then, answered the boy, I wish for the puppy. And so they all went on wishing till at last it came to Holda's turn. What do you wish for my child, said her mother? Not for anything at all, she answered, shaking her head. Oh, but you must wish for something, cried all the children. Yes, said her mother, and I am now going to cut the cake. See, Holda, the knife is going into it. Think of something. Well, then, answered the little girl, I cannot think of anything else, so I shall wish that you may all have your wishes. Upon this the knife went crunching down into the cake. The children gave three cheers, and the white waxen tulip bud at the top came tumbling on the table, and while they were all looking, it opened its leaves and out of the middle of it stepped a beautiful little fairy woman, no taller than your finger. She had a white robe on, a little crown on her long yellow hair, there were two wings on her shoulders, just like the downy brown wings of a butterfly, and in her hand she had a little scepter sparkling with precious stones. Only one wish, she said, jumping down onto the table and speaking with the smallest little voice you ever heard. Your fathers and mothers were always contented if we gave them one wish every year. As she spoke, Holda's mother gave a slice of cake to each child, and when Holda took hers, out dropped the ring and fell clattering on her platter. Only one wish, repeated the fairy, and the children were all so much astonished, for even in those days fairies were but rarely seen, that none of them spoke a word, not even in a whisper. Only one wish, speak, then, little Holda, for I am one of that race which delights to give pleasure and to do good. Is there really nothing that you wish, for you shall certainly have it if there is? There was nothing, dear fairy, before I saw you," answered the little girl in a hesitating tone. But now there is, asked the fairy, tell it me then, and you shall have it. I wish for that pretty little scepter of yours," said Holda, pointing to the fairy's wand. The moment Holda said this, the fairy shuddered and became pale. Her brilliant colors faded, and she looked to the children's eyes like a thin white mist standing still in her place. The scepter, on the contrary, became brighter than ever, and the precious stones glowed like burning coals. Dear child," she sighed in a faint mournful voice, I had better have left you with the gift of your satisfied contented heart than thus have urged you to form a wish to my destruction. Alas, alas! My power and my happiness fade from me and are as if they had never been. My wand must now go to you who can make no use of it, and I must flutter about forlornly and alone in the cold world with no more ability to do good and waste away my time, a helpless and defenseless thing. Oh, no, no," replied Little Holda, do not speak so mournfully, dear fairy. I did not wish at first to ask for it. I will not take the wand if it is of value to you, and I should be grieved to have it against your will. Child, said the fairy, you do not know our nature. I have said whatever you wished should be yours. I cannot alter this decree. It must be so. Take my wand, and I entreat you to guard it carefully and never to give it away lest it should get into the hands of my enemy. For if once it should, I shall become his miserable little slave. Keep my wand with care. It is of no use to you, but in the course of years it is possible I may be able to regain it, and on Midsummer night I shall for a few hours return to my present shape and be able for a short time to talk with you again. Dear fairy, said Little Holda, weeping and putting out her hand for the wand which the fairy held to her, is there nothing else that I can do for you? Nothing, nothing, said the fairy, who had now become so transparent and dim that they could scarcely see her. Only the wings on her shoulders remained, and their bright colors had changed to a dusky brown. I have long contended with my bitter enemy the chief of the tribe of the gnomes, the ill-natured spiteful gnomes. Their desire is as much to do harm to mortals as it is mine to do them good. If now he should find me, I shall be at his mercy. It was decreed long ages ago that I should one day lose my wand, and it depends in some degree upon you, Little Holda, whether I shall ever receive it again. Farewell! And now nothing was visible but the wings. The fairy had changed into a moth, with large brown wings freckled with dark eyes, and it stood trembling upon the table till at length, when the children had watched it some time, it fluttered toward the window and beat against the pains, as if it wished to be released. So they opened the casement and let it out in the wind and cold. Poor little thing! They were very sorry for it, but after a while they nearly forgot it, for they were but children. Little Holda only remembered it, and she carefully enclosed the beautiful scepter in a small box. But Midsummer Day passed by, and several other Midsummer Days, and still Holda saw nothing and heard nothing of the fairy. She then began to fear that she must be dead, and it was a long time since she had looked at the wand, when one day in the middle of the Norway summer, as she was playing in one of the deep bay windows of the castle, she saw a peddler with a pack on his back coming slowly up the avenue of pine trees and singing a merry song. Can I speak to the lady of this castle? he said to Holda, making at the same time a very low bow. Holda did not much like him. He had such restless black eyes and such a cunning smile. His face showed that he was a foreigner. It was as brown as a nut. His dress also was very strange. He wore a red turban and had large earrings in his ears, and silver chains wound round and round his ankles. Holda replied that her mother was gone to the fair at Christiania and would not be back for several days. Can I then speak with the lord of the castle? asked the peddler. My father is gone out to fish in the fjord, replied little Holda. He will not return for some time, and the maids and the men are all gone to make hay in the fields. There was no one left at home but me and my old nurse. The peddler was very much delighted to hear this. However, he pretended to be disappointed. It is very unfortunate, he said, that your honored parents are not at home, for I have got some things here of such wonderful beauty that nothing could have given them so much pleasure as to have feasted their eyes with the sight of them. Rings, bracelets, lockets, pictures. In short, there is nothing beautiful that I have not got in my pack. And if your parents could have seen them, they would have given all the money they had in the world rather than not have bought some of them. Good peddler, said little Holda, could you not be so very kind as just to let me have a sight of them? The peddler at first pretended to be unwilling, but after he had looked all across the wide heath had seen that there was no one coming and that the hounds by the doorway were fast asleep in the sun and the very pigeons on the roof had all got their heads under their wings. He ventured to step across the threshold into the bay window and begin to open his pack and display all his fine things, taking care to set them out in the sunshine which made them glitter like glow worms. Little Holda had never seen anything half so splendid before. There were little glasses set round with diamonds and hung with small tinkling bells which made delightful music whenever they were shaken. Ropes of pearls which had a more fragrant scent than bean fields or hyacinths. Rings, the precious stones of which changed color as you frowned or smiled upon them. Silver boxes that could play tunes, pictures of beautiful ladies and gentlemen set with emeralds with devices in coral at the back, little golden snakes with brilliant eyes that would move about and so many other rare and splendid jewels that Holda was quite dazzled and stood looking at them with blushing cheeks and a beating heart so much she wished that she might have one of them. Well, young lady, said the cunning peddler, how do you find these jewels? Did I boast too much of their beauty? Oh, no, said Holda. I did not think there had been anything so beautiful in the world. I did not think even our queen had such fine jewels as these. Thank you, peddler, for the sight of them. Will you buy something then of a poor man? answered the peddler. I've traveled a great distance and not sold anything this many a day. I should be very glad to buy, said little Holda, but I have scarcely any money, not half the price of one of these jewels I am sure. Now there was lying on the table an ancient signet ring set with a large opal. Maybe the young lady would not mind parting with this, said he, taking it up. I could give her a new one for it of the latest fashion. Oh, no, thank you, cried Holda hastily. I must not do so. This ring is my mother's and was left her by my grandmother. The peddler looked disappointed. However, he put the ring down and said, but if my young lady has no money, perhaps she has some old trinkets or toys that she would not mind parting with. A coral and bells or a silver mug or a necklace or, in short, anything that she keeps put away and that is of no use to her. No, said the little girl, I don't think I have got anything of the kind. Oh, yes, to be sure, I have got somewhere upstairs a little gold wand which I was told not to give away. But I'm afraid she who gave it me must have been dead a long while and it is of no use keeping it any longer. Now this peddler was the fairy's enemy. He had long suspected that the wand must be concealed somewhere in that region and near the sea, and he had disguised himself and gone out wandering among the farmhouses and huts and castles to try if he could hear some tidings of it and get it, if possible, into his power. The moment he heard Holda mention her gold wand, he became excessively anxious to see it. He was a gnome and when his malicious eyes gleamed with delight, they shot out a burning ray which scorched the hound who was lying asleep close at hand and he sprang up and barked at him. Peace, peace, ran, cried little Holda. Lie down, you unmanorly hound. The dog shrank back again growling and the peddler sat in a careless tone to Holda. Well, lady, I have no objection just to look at the little gold wand and see if it is worth anything. But I am not sure that I could part with it, said Holda. Very well, replied the peddler, as you please, but I may as well look at it. I should hope these beautiful things need not go begging. As he spoke he began carefully to lock up some of his jewels in their little boxes as if he meant to go away. Oh, don't go! cried Holda. I am going upstairs to fetch my wand. I shall not be long, pray wait for me. Nothing was further from the peddler's thought than to go away and while little Holda was running up to look for the wand, he panted so hard for fear that after all he might not be able to get it that he woke the other hound who came up to him and smelt his leg. What sort of a creature is this? said the old hound to his companion, speaking, of course, in the dog's language. I am sure I cannot say, answered the other. I wonder what he is made of? He smells of mushrooms. Quite earthy, I declare, as if he had lived underground all his life. Let us stand one on each side of him and watch that he doesn't steal anything. So the two dogs stood staring at him but the peddler was too cunning for them. He looked out of the window and said, I think I see the master coming. Upon which they both turned to look across the heath and the peddler snatched up the opal ring and hid it in his vest. When they turned around, he was folding up his trinkets again as calmly as possible. One cannot be too careful to count one's goods, he said gravely. Honest people often get cheated in houses like these and honest as these two dogs look, I know where one of them hid that leg of mutton bone that he stole yesterday. Upon hearing this, the dogs sneaked under the table ashamed of themselves. I would not have it on my conscience that I robbed my master for the best bone in the world, continued the peddler, and as he said this he took up a little silver horn belonging to the lord of the castle and having tapped it with his knuckle to see whether the metal was pure, folded it up in cotton and put it in his pack with the rest of his curiosities. Presently Holder came down with a little box in her hand out of which she took the fairy's wand. The peddler was so transported at the sight of it that he could scarcely conceal his joy. But he knew that unless he could get it by fair means it would be of no use to him. How dim it looks, said little Holder. The stones used to be so very bright when first I had it. Ah, that is a sign that the person who gave it you is dead, said the deceitful peddler. I am sorry to hear she is dead, said Holder, with a sigh. Well then, peddler, as that is the case I will part with the wand if you can give me one of your fine bracelets instead of it. The peddler's hand trembled with anxiety as he held it out for the wand. But the moment he had got possession of it all his politeness vanished. There, he said, you have got a very handsome bracelet in your hand. It is worth a great deal more than the wand. You may keep it. I have no time to waste. I must be gone. So, saying, he hastily snatched up the rest of his jewels, thrust them into his pack and slung it over his shoulder, leaving Holder looking after him with the bracelet in her hand. She saw him walk rapidly along the heath till he came to a gravel pit very deep and with overhanging sides. He swung himself over by the branches of the trees. What can he be going to do there? she said to herself. But I will run after him, for I don't like this bracelet half so well as some of the others. So Holder ran till she came to the edge of the gravel pit but was so much surprised that she could not say a word. There were the great footmarks made by the peddler down the steep sides of the pit and at the bottom she saw him sitting in the mud, digging a hole with his hands. Hi, he said, putting his head down. Some of you come up. I've got the wand at last. Come and help me down with my pack. I'm coming! answered a voice, speaking under the ground and presently up came a head all covered with earth through the hole the peddler had made. It was shaggy with hair and had two little bright eyes like those of a mole. Holder thought she had never seen such a curious little man. He was dressed in brown clothes and had a red-peaked cap on his head and he and the peddler soon laid the pack at the bottom of the hole and began to stamp upon it, dancing and singing with great vehemence. As they went on the pack sank lower and lower till at last as they still stood upon it Holder could see only their heads and shoulders. In a little time longer she could only see the top of the red cap and then the two little men disappeared altogether and the ground closed over them and the white nettles and marsh marigolds waved their heads over the place as if nothing had happened. End of section 15 Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa Section 16 of the Junior Classics, Volume 6 Old Fashioned Tales This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Jeffrey Wilson, Ames, Iowa The Junior Classics, Volume 6 Old Fashioned Tales A Lost Wand, Part 2 by Jean Ingello Holder walked away sadly and slowly. She looked at the beautiful bracelet and wished she had not parted with the wand for it for she now began to fear that the peddler had deceived her. Nevertheless, who would not be delighted to have such a fine jewel? It consisted of a gold hoop set with turquoise and on the clasp was a beautiful bird with open wings all made of gold and which quivered as Holder carried it. Holder looked at its bright eyes, ruby eyes which sparkled in the sunshine and at its crest all powdered with pearls and she forgot her regret. My beautiful bird, she said, I will not hide you in a dark box as the peddler did. I will wear you on my wrist and let you see all my toys and you shall be carried every day into the garden that the flowers may see how elegant you are. But stop, I think I see a little dust on your wings. I must rub it off. So saying, Holder took up her frock and began gently rubbing the bird's wings. When, to her utter astonishment, it opened its pretty beak and sang. My master, oh my master, the brown hard-hearted gnome, he goes down faster, faster to his dreary home. Little Holder sold her golden wand for me, though the fairy told her that must never be. Never, she must never let the treasure go. Ah, lost forever, woe, woe, woe! The bird sang in such a sorrowful voice and fluttered its golden wings so mournfully that Holder wept. Alas, alas, she said, I have done very wrong. I have lost the wand for ever. Oh, what shall I do, dear little bird? Do tell me. But the bird did not sing again and it was now time to go to bed. The old nurse came out to fetch Holder. She had been looking all over the castle for her and been wondering where she could have hidden herself. In Norway, at midsummer, the nights are so short that the sun only dips under the hills time enough to let one or two stars peep out before he appears again. The people, therefore, go to bed in the broad sunlight. Child, said the old nurse, look how late you are. It is nearly midnight. Come, it is full time for bed. It is midsummer day. Midsummer day, repeated Holder, ah, how sorry I am. Then this is the day when I might have seen the fairy. How very, very foolish I have been. Holder laid her beautiful bracelet upon a table in her room where she could see it and kissed the little bird before she got into bed. She had been asleep a long time when a little sobbing voice suddenly awoke her and she sat up to listen. The house was perfectly still. Her cat was curled up at the door fast asleep. Her bird's head was under its wing. A long sunbeam was slanting down through an opening in the green window curtain and the moats danced merrily in it. What could that noise have been? said little Holder, lying down again. She had no sooner laid her head on the pillow than she heard it again. And turning round quickly to look at the bracelet she saw the little bird fluttering its wings and close to it, with her hands covering her face, the beautiful long lost fairy. Oh fairy, fairy, what have I done? said Holder, you will never see your wand again. The gnome has got it and he has carried it down under the ground where he will hide it from us forever. The fairy could not look up nor answer. She remained weeping with her hands before her till the little golden bird began to chirp. Sing to us again, I pray you beautiful bird, said Holder, for you are not friendly to the gnome. I am sure you are sorry for the poor fairy. Child, said the fairy, be cautious what you say. That gnome is my enemy. He disguised himself as a peddler the better to deceive you and now he has got my wand he can discover where I am. He will be constantly pursuing me and I shall have no peace. If once I fall into his hands I shall be his slave forever. The bird is not his friend for the race of gnomes have no friends. Speak to it again and see if it will sing to you, for you are its mistress. Sing to me, sweet bird, said Holder, in a caressing tone. And the little bird quivered its wings and bowed its head several times. Then it opened its beak and sang. Where is the ring? Oh, the ring! My master stole the ring and he holds it while I sing in the middle of the world. Where is the ring? Where the long green lizard curled all its length and made a spring fifty leagues along. There he stands with his brown hands and sings to the lizard a wonderful song and he gives the white stone to that lizard fell for he fears it and loves it passing well. What? said Holder. Did the peddler steal my mother's ring? That old opal ring which I told him I could not let him have? Child, replied the fairy, be not sorry for his treachery. This theft I looked to for my last hope for recovering the wand. How so? asked Holder. It is a common thing among mortals, replied the fairy, to say the thing which is not true and do the thing which is not honest. But among the other races of beings who inhabit this world the penalty of mocking and imitating the vices of you, the superior race, is that if ever one of us can be convicted of it, that one, be it gnomes, sprite or fairy, is never permitted to appear in the likeness of humanity again, nor to walk about on the face of the land which is your inheritance. Now the gnomes hate one another, and if it should be discovered by the brethren of this my enemy that he stole the opal ring, they will not fail to betray him. There is therefore no doubt, little Holder, that he carries both the ring and the wand about with him wherever he goes. And if in all your walks and during your whole life you should see him again and go boldly up to him and demand the stolen stone, he will be compelled instantly to borrow his way down again into the earth and leave behind him all his ill-gotten gains. There is then still some hope, said Holder, in a happier voice. But where, dear fairy, have you hidden yourself so long? I have passed a dreary time, replied the fairy. I have been compelled to leave Europe and fly across to Africa, for my enemy inhabits the great hollow dome which is the centre of the earth, and he can only come up in Europe. But my poor little brown wings were often so weary in my flight across the sea that I wished, like the birds, I could drop into the waves and die, for what was to me the use of immortality when I could no longer soothe the sorrow of mortals. But I cannot die, and after I had fluttered across into Egypt where the glaring light of the sun almost blinded me, I was thankful to find a ruined tomb or temple underground where great marble sarcophagi were ranged around the walls and where in the dusky light I could rest from my travels, in a place where I only knew the difference between night and day by the redness of the one sunbeam which stole in through a crevice and the silvery blue of the moonbeam that succeeded it. In that temple there was no sound but the rustling of the bat's wings as they flew in before dawn or sometimes the chirping of a swallow which had lost its way and was frightened to see all the grim marble faces gazing at it. But the quietness did me good, and I waited, hoping that the young king of Sweden would marry and that an heir would be born to him. For I am a Swedish fairy, and then I should recover my liberty according to an ancient statute of the fairy realm and my wand would also come again into my possession. But alas, he is dead, and the reason you see me today is that like the rest of my race I am come to strew leaves on his grave and recount his virtues. I must now return, for the birds are stirring. I hear the cows lowing to be milked and the maids singing as they go out with their pales. Farewell, little Holda. Guard well the bracelet. I must to my ruined temple again. Happy for me will be the day when you see my enemy, if that day ever comes. The bird will warn you of his neighborhood by pecking your hand. One moment stay, dear fairy, said Holda. Where am I most likely to see the gnome? In the south, replied the fairy, for they love hot sunshine. I can stay no longer, farewell. So, saying, the fairy again became a moth and fluttered to the window. Little Holda opened it. The brown moth settled for a moment upon her lips as if it wished to kiss her, and then it flew out into the sunshine away and away. Little Holda watched her till her pretty wings were lost in the blue distance. Then she turned and took her bracelet and put it on her wrist, where from that day forward she always wore it night and day. Holda now grew tall and became a fair young maiden, and she often wished for the day when she might go down to the south that she might have a better chance of seeing the cruel gnome, and as she sat at work in her room alone, she often asked the bird to sing to her, but he never sang any other songs than the two she had heard at first. And now two full years had passed away, and it was again the height of the Norway summer, but the fairy had not made her appearance. As the days began to shorten, Holda's cheeks lost their bright color and her steps their merry lightness. She became pale and wan. Her parents were grieved to see her change so fast, but they hoped, as the weary winter came on, that the cheerful fire and gay company would revive her. But she grew worse and worse till she could scarcely walk alone through the rooms where she had played so happily, and all the physicians shook their heads and said, Alas! Alas! The lord and lady of the castle may well look sad. Nothing can save their fair daughter, and before the spring comes she will sink into an early grave. The first yellow leaves now began to drop and showed that winter was near at hand. My sweet Holda! said her mother to her one day, as she was lying upon a couch looking out into the sunshine. Is there anything you can think of that would do you good, or any place we can go to that you think might revive you? I had only one wish, replied Holda, but that, dear mother, I cannot have. Why not, dear child? said her father. Let us hear what your wish was. I wished that before I died I might be able to go into the south and see that wicked peddler that if possible I might repair the mischief I had done to the fairy by restoring her the wand. Does she wish to go into the south? said the physicians. Then it will be as well to indulge her, but nothing can save her life, and if she leaves her native country she will return to it no more. I am willing to go, said Holda, for the fairy's sake. So they put her on a pillion and took her slowly onto the south by short distances as she could bear it. And as she left the old castle, the wind tossed some yellow leaves against her and then whirled them away across the heath to the forest. Holda said, Yellow leaves, yellow leaves, wither away through the long wood paths how fast do ye stray? The yellow leaves answered, We go to lie down where the spring snowdrops grow, their young roots to cherish through frost and through snow. Then Holda said again to the leaves, Yellow leaves, yellow leaves, faded in few. What will the spring flowers matter to you? And the leaves said, We shall not see them when gaily they bloom, but sure they will love us for guarding their tomb. Then Holda said, The yellow leaves are like me. I am going away from my place for the sake of the poor fairy who now lies hidden in the dark Egyptian ruin. But if I am so happiest to recover her wand by my care, she will come back glad and white like the snowdrops when winter is over, and she will love my memory when I am laid asleep in my tomb. So they set out on their journey and every day went a little distance toward the south, till at last at Christmas Eve they came to an ancient city at the foot of a range of mountains. What a strange Christmas this is, said Holda, when she looked out the next morning. Let us stay here, mother, for we are far enough to the south. Look how the red berries hang on yonder tree, and these myrtles on the porch are fresh and green, and a few roses bloom still on the sunny side of the window. It was so fine and warm that the next day they carried Holda to a green bank where she could sit down. It was close by some public gardens, and the people were coming and going. She fell into a doze as she sat with her mother watching her, and in her half-gream she heard the voices of the passersby, and what they said about her till suddenly a voice which she remembered made her wake with a start, and as she opened her frightened eyes there, with his pack on his back, and his cunning eyes fixed upon her, stood the peddler. Stop him, cried Holda, starting up. Mother, help me to run after him. After whom, my child, asked her mother? After the peddler, said Holda, he was here but now, but before I had time to speak to him, he stepped behind that thorn-bush and disappeared. So that is Holda, said the peddler to himself, as he went down the steep path into the middle of the world. She looks as if a few days more would be all she has to live. I will not come here any more till the spring, and then she will be dead, and I shall have nothing to fear. But Holda did not die. See what a good thing it is to be kind. The soft, warm air of the south revived her by degrees, so much that by the end of the year she could walk in the public garden and delight in the warm sunshine. In another month she could ride with her father to see all the strange old castles in that neighbourhood, and by the end of February she was as well as ever she had been in her life, and all this came from her desire to do good to the ferry by going to the south. And now, thought the peddler, there is no doubt that the daisies are growing on Holda's grave by this time, so I will go up again to the outside of the world and sell my wares to the people who resort to those public places. So one day, when in that warm climate the spring flowers were already blooming on the hillsides, up he came close to the ruined walls of a castle, and set his pack down beside him to rest after the fatigues of his journey. This is a cool, shady place, he said, looking around, and these dark yew trees conceal it very well from the road. I shall come here always in the middle of the day, when the sun is too hot and count over my gains. How hard my mistress the lizard makes me work! Who would have thought she would have wished to deck her green head with opals down there, where there are only a tribe of brown gnomes to see her? But I have not given her that one out of the ring which I stole, nor three others that I conjured out of the crozier of the priest as I knelt at the altar, and they thought I was rehearsing a prayer to the virgin. After resting some time, the peddler took up his pack and went boldly on to the gardens, never doubting but that Holda was dead, but it so happened that at that moment Holda and her mother sat at work in the shady part of the garden under some elder trees. What is the matter, my sweet bird? said Holda, for the bird pecked her wrist and fluttered its wings and opened its beak as if it were very much frightened. Let us go, mother, and look about us, said Holda. So they both got up and wandered all over the gardens, but the peddler in the meantime had walked on toward the town and they saw nothing of him. Sing to me, my sweet bird, said Holda that night as she lay down to sleep, tell me why you pecked my wrist. Then the bird sang to her. Who came from the ruin, the ivy-clad ruin, with old shaking arches all moss overgrown, where the flitterbath hideeth, the limber-snake glideeth, and chill water drips from the slimy green stone? Who did? asked Holda. Not the peddler, surely. Tell me, my pretty bird, but the bird only chirped a little and fluttered its golden wings, so Holda ceased to ask it and presently fell asleep. But the bird woke her by pecking her wrist very early almost before sunrise and sang. Who dips a brown hand in the chill-shaded water, the water that drips from a slimy green stone? Who flings his red cap at the owlets that flap their white wings in his face as he sits there alone? Holda, upon hearing this, arose in great haste and dressed herself. Then she went to her father and mother and entreated that they would come with her to the old ruin. It was now broad day, so they all three set out together. It was a very hot morning, the dust lay thick upon the road, and there was not air enough to stir the thick leaves of the trees which hung overhead. They had not gone far before they found themselves in a crowd of people all going toward the castle ruin. For there, they told Holda, the peddler, the famous peddler from the north who sold such fine wares, was going to perform some feats of jugglery of most surprising cleverness. Child, whispered Holda's mother, nothing could be more fortunate for us. Let us mingle with the crowd and get close to the peddler. Holda assented to her mother's wish, but the heat and dust, together with her own intense desire to rescue the lost wand, made her tremble so that she had great difficulty in walking. They went among gypsies, fruit women, peasant girls, children, travelling musicians, common soldiers, and labourers. The heat increased and the dust and the noise, and at last Holda and her parents were born forward into the old ruin among a rush of people running and hazzying, and heard the peddler shout to them, Keep back, good people! Leave a space before me! Leave a large space between me and you! So they pressed back again, jostling and crowding each other, and left an open space before him from which he looked at them with his cunning black eyes, and with one hand dabbling in the cold water of the spring. The place was open to the sky, and the broken arches and walls were covered with thick ivy and wallflowers. The peddler sat on a large grey stone with his red cap on, and his brown fingers adorned with splendid rings, and he spread them out and waved his hands to the people with ostentatious ceremony. Now, good people, he said, without rising from his seat, you are about to see the finest, rarest, and most wonderful exhibition of the conjuring art ever known. Stop! cried a woman's voice from the crowd, and a young girl rushed wildly forward from the people who had been trying to hold her back. I impeach you before all these witnesses, she cried, seizing him by the hand. See, justice done, good people! I impeach you, peddler. Where's the ring? My mother's ring, which you stole on Midsummer's Day in the castle. Good people, said the peddler, pulling his red cap over his face and speaking in a mild, fawning voice. I hope you'll protect me. I hope you won't see me insulted. My ring, my ring, cried Holda. He wore it on his finger but now. Show your hand like a man, said the people. If the lady says falsely, can't you face her and tell her so? Never hold it down so cowardly. The peddler had tucked his feet under him, and when the people cried out to him to let the rings on his hand be seen, he had already burrowed with them up to his knees in the earth. Oh, he will go down into the earth, cried Holda. But I will not let go. Peddler, peddler, it is useless. If I follow you before the lizard you're mistress, I will not let go. The peddler turned his terrified, cowardly eyes upon Holda and sank lower and lower. The people were too frightened to move. Stop, child, cried her mother. Oh, he will go down and drag thee with him. But Holda would not and could not let go. The peddler had now sunk up to his waist. Her mother wrung her hands and in an instant the earth closed upon them both. And after falling in the dark down a steep abyss they found themselves, not at all the worse, standing in a dimly lighted cave with a large table in it piled with moldy books. Behind the table was a smooth and perfectly round hole in the wall about the size of a cartwheel. Holda looked that way and saw how intensely dark it was through this hole. And she was wondering where it led to that enormous green lizard put its head through into the cave and gazed at her with its great brown eyes. What is thy demand, fine child of the daylight? said the lizard. Princess, replied Holda, I demand that this thy servant should give up to me a ring which he stole in my father's castle when I was a child. The peddler no sooner heard Holda boldly demand her rights than he fell on his knees and began to cry for mercy. Mercy rests with this maiden, said the lizard. At the same time she darted out her tongue which was several yards in length and like a scarlet thread and with it stripped the ring from the gnome's finger and gave it to Holda. Speak, maiden, what reparation do you demand of this culprit and what shall be his punishment? Great Princess, replied Holda, let him restore to me a golden wand which I sold to him for it belongs to a fairy whom he has long persecuted. Here it is! Here it is! cried the cowardly gnome, putting his hand into his bosom and pulling it out, shaking all the time and crying out most piteously, Oh, don't let me be banished from the sunshine. After this double crime no mercy can be shown you, said the lizard, and she twined her scarlet tongue round him and drew him through the hole to herself. At the same instant it closed and a crack came in the roof of the cave through which the sunshine stole and as Holda looked up, in flew a brown moth and settled on the magic bracelet. She touched the moth with the wand and instantly it stood upon her wrist, a beautiful and joyous fairy. She took her wand from Holda's hand and stood for a moment looking gratefully in her face without speaking. Then she said to the wand, Art thou my own again and wilt thou serve me? Try me, said the wand. So she struck the wall with it and said, Cleave wall! and a hole came in the wall large enough for Holda to creep through and she found herself at the foot of a staircase hewn in the rock and after walking up it for three hours she came out in the old ruined castle and was astonished to see that the sun had set. The moment she appeared her father and mother who had given her over for lost clasped her in their arms and wept for joy as they embraced her. My child, said her father, how happy thou lookest, not as if thou hadst been down in the dark earth. Holda kissed her parents and smiled upon them. Then she turned to look for the fairy but she was gone. So they all three walked home in the twilight and the next day Holda set out again with her parents to return to the old castle in Norway. As for the fairy, she was happy from that day in the possession of her wand but the little golden bird folded its wings and sang any songs again. End of section 16 Recording by Jeffrey Wilson Ames, Iowa The Junior Classics Volume 6 Old Fashioned Tales Snapdragons A Tale of Christmas Eve by Juliana Horatio Ewing Once upon a time there lived a certain family of the name of Scratch. It has a Russian or Polish look and yet they most certainly lived in England. They were remarkable for the following peculiarity. They seldom seriously quarreled but they never agreed about anything. It is hard to say whether it were more painful for their friends to hear them constantly contradicting each other or gratifying to discover that it meant nothing and was only their way. It began with the father and mother. They were a worthy couple and really attached to each other. They had a habit of contradicting each other's statements and opposing each other's opinions which though mutually understood and allowed for in private was most trying to the bystanders in public. If one related an anecdote the other would break in with half a dozen corrections of trivial details of no interest or importance to anyone the speakers included. For instance suppose the two dining in a strange house and Mrs. Scratch seated by the host and contributing to the small talk of the dinner table thus oh yes very changeable weather indeed it looked quite promising yesterday morning in town but it began to rain at noon. A quarter past eleven my dear Mr. Scratch's voice would be heard to say from several chairs down in the corrective tones of a husband and father and really my dear so far from being a promising morning I must say it looked about as threatening as it well could your memory is not always accurate in small matters by love but Mrs. Scratch had not been a wife and a mother for fifteen years to be snuffed out at one snap of the marital snuffers as Mr. Scratch leaned forward in his chair she leaned forward in hers and defended herself across the intervening couples my my dear Mr. Scratch you said so yourself the weather had not been so promising for a week what I said my dear pardon me was that the barometer was higher than it had been for a week but as you might have observed if these details were in your line my love which they are not the rise was extraordinarily rapid and there is no sure sign of unsettled weather but Mrs. Scratch is apt to forget these unimportant trifles he added with a comprehensive smile around the dinner table her thoughts are very properly absorbed by the more important domestic questions of the nursery no I think that's rather unfair on Mr. Scratch's part Mrs. Scratch would shirt with a smile quite as affable and as general as her husband's I'm sure he's quite as forgetful and inaccurate as I am and I don't think my memory is at all a bad one you forgot the dinner hour when we were going out to dine last week nevertheless said Mr. Scratch and you couldn't help me when I asked you was the Spritely retort and I'm sure it's not like you to forget anything about dinner my dear the letter was addressed to you said Mr. Scratch I sent it to you by Jemima said Mrs. Scratch I didn't read it said Mr. Scratch well you burnt it said Mrs. Scratch and as I always say there's nothing more foolish than burning a letter of invitation before the day for one is certain to forget I've no doubt you do always say it Mr. Scratch remarked with a smile but I certainly never remember to have heard the observation from your lips my love whose memory is involved there asked Mrs. Scratch triumphantly and as at this point the ladies rose Mrs. Scratch had the last word indeed as may be gathered from this conversation Mrs. Scratch was quite able to defend herself when she was yet a bride and young and timid she used to collapse when Mr. Scratch contradicted her statements and set her story straight and public and she hardly ever opened her lips without disappearing under the domestic extinguisher but in the course of 15 years she had learned that Mr. Scratch's bark was a great deal worse than his bite if indeed he had a bite at all thus snubs that made other people's ears tingle had no effect whatever on the lady to whom they were addressed for she knew exactly what they were worth and had by this time become fairly adept at snapping in return in the days when she succumbed she was occasionally unhappy but now she and her husband understood each other and having agreed to differ they unfortunately agreed also to differ in public indeed it was the bystanders who had the worst of it on these occasions to the worthy couple themselves the habit had become second nature in no way affected the friendly tenor of their domestic relations they would interfere with each other's conversation contradicting assertions and disputing conclusions for a whole evening and then when all the world and his wife thought that these ceaseless sparks of bickering must blaze up into a flaming quarrel as soon as they were alone they would bowl amicably home in a cab criticizing the friends who were commenting upon them and his little agreed about the events of the evening as about the details of any other events whatsoever yes, the bystanders certainly had the worst of it those who were near wished themselves anywhere else especially when appealed to those who were at a distance do not mind so much a domestic squabble at a certain distance is interesting like an engagement viewed from a point beyond the range of guns in such a position one may someday be placed oneself moreover, it gives a touch of excitement to a dull evening to be able to say Sotavocce to one's neighbor do listen, the scratches are added again their unmarried friends thought a terrible abyss of tyranny and aggravation must lie beneath it all and bless their stars they were still single and able to tell a tale their own way the married ones had more idea of how it really was and wished in the name of common sense and good taste that scratch and his wife would not make fools of themselves so it went on however and so I suppose it goes on still for not many bad habits are cured in middle age on certain questions of comparative speaking their views were never identical such as the temperature being hot or cold things being light or dark the apple tarts being sweet or sour so one day Mr. Scratch came into the room rubbing his hands and planting himself at the fire with bitterly cold it is today to be sure why my dear William said Mrs. Scratch I'm sure you must have got a cold I feel fire quite oppressive myself you were wishing you to seal skin jacket yesterday when I wasn't half as cold as it is today said Mr. Scratch my dear William why the children were shivering the whole day and the wind was due in the north due east Mrs. Scratch I know by the smoke said Mrs. Scratch softly but decidedly I fancy I can tell an east wind when I feel it said Mr. Scratch jocosely to the company I told Jemima to look at the weather cock remembered Mrs. Scratch I don't care a fig for Jemima said her husband on another occasion Mrs. Scratch and a lady friend were conversing we met him at the smiths a gentleman like greeble men about 40 said Mrs. Scratch in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies not a day over 35 said Mr. Scratch from behind his newspaper my dear William his hair is grey said Mrs. Scratch plenty of men are grey at 30 said Mr. Scratch I knew a man who was grey at 25 well 40 or 35 it doesn't matter much said Mrs. Scratch about to resume her narration years meant as good deal to most people at 35 said Mr. Scratch as he walked towards the door they would make a remarkable difference to me I know and with a jocular air Mr. Scratch departed and Mrs. Scratch had the rest of the anecdote her own way the spirit of contradiction finds a place in most nurseries though to a very varying degree in different ones children snap and snarl by nature like young puppies and most of us can remember taking part in some such spirited dialogues as the following I will you can't you shall I won't you don't I dare I'll tell mama I don't care if you do it is the part of wise parents to repress these squibs and crackers of juvenile contention and to enforce that slowly learned lesson that in this world one must often pass over and put up with things and other people being oneself by no means perfect also that it is a kindness and almost a duty to let people think and say and do things in their own way occasionally but even if Mr. and Mrs. Scratch had ever thought of teaching all this to their children it must be confessed that the lesson would not have come with a good grace from either of them since they snapped and snarled between themselves as much or more than their children in the nursery the two elders were the leaders in the nursery squabbles between these a boy and a girl a ceaseless war of words was waged from morning to night and as neither of them lacked ready wit and both were in constant practice the art of snapping was cultivated by them to the highest pitch it began at breakfast if not sooner you've taken my chair it's not your chair you know it's the one I like and it was in my place and you know it was in your place never mind I do know no you don't yes I do suppose I say that it was in my place you can't for it wasn't I can if I like well was it I shouldn't tell you ah that shows it wasn't no it doesn't yes it does et cetera et cetera et cetera the direction of their daily walks was a fruitful subject of difference of opinion let's go on to the common today nurse oh don't let's go there we're always going on the common I'm sure we're not we've not been there for ever so long oh what a story we were there on Wednesday let's go down gypsy lane we never go down gypsy lane why we're always going down gypsy lane and there's nothing to see there I don't care I won't go on the common and I should go and get Papa to say we're to go down gypsy lane I can run faster than you it's very sneaking but I don't care Papa, Papa Polly's called me a sneak no I didn't Papa you did no I didn't I only say it was sneaking of you to say you'd run faster than me and get Papa to say we were going to go down gypsy lane then you did call him sneaking said Mr. Scratch and you're a very naughty ill-mannered little girl you're getting very troublesome Polly and I shall have to send you to school where you'll be kept in order go where your brother wishes at once for Polly and her brother had reached an age when it was convenient if possible to throw the blame of all nursery differences on Polly in families where domestic discipline is rather fractious than firm there comes a stage when the girls almost invariably go to the wall because they will stand snubbing and the boys will not domestic authority, like some other powers is apt to be magnified on the weaker class but Mr. Scratch will not always listen even to Harry if you don't give it me back directly I'll tell about your eating the two magnum bottoms in the kitchen garden on Sunday said Master Harry on one occasion tell tale tit your tongue shall be slit and every dog in the town shall have a little bit quoted his sister ah you've called me a tell tale now I'll go and tell Papa you got into a fine scrape for calling me names the other day go then I don't care you wouldn't like me to go I know you don't that's what it is I dare then why don't you oh I'm going but you'll see we'll be the end of it Polly however had her own reasons for remaining stolen and Harry started but when he reached the landing he paused Mr. Scratch had especially announced that morning that he did not wish to be disturbed and though he was a favorite Harry had no desire to invade the dining room at this crisis so he returned to the nursery and said with a magnanimous air I don't want to get you into a scrape Polly if you beg my pardon I won't go hmm I'm sure I shunned said Polly who is equally well informed as to the position of affairs at headquarters go if you dare I won't if you want me not said Harry discreetly waving the question of apologies but I'd rather you went said the obdurate Polly you're always telling tales go and tell now if you're not afraid so Harry went but at the bottom of the stairs he lingered again and was meditating how to return with most credit to his dignity when Polly's face appeared through the banisters and Polly's sharp tongue goaded him on ah I see you you're stopping you dare go I dare said Harry and at last he went as he turned the handle of the door Mr. Scratch turned round please Papa Harry began get away with you cried Mr. Scratch didn't I tell you I was not to be disturbed this morning what an extraordinary but Harry had shut the door and withdrawn precipitately once outside he returned to the nursery with dignified steps and an air of apparent satisfaction saying you're to give me the bricks please who says so why who should say so where have I been pray I don't know and I don't care I've been to Papa there did he say I was to give up the bricks I've told you no you've not I shouldn't tell you anymore then I'll go to Papa and ask go by all means I won't if you tell me truly I shouldn't tell you anything go and ask if you dare said Harry only too glad to have the tables turned Polly's expedition met with the same fate and she attempted to cover her retreat in a similar manner ah you didn't tell I don't believe you asked Papa don't you very well well did you never mind et cetera et cetera et cetera meanwhile Mr. Scratch scolded Mrs. Scratch for not keeping the children in better order and Mrs. Scratch said it was quite impossible to do so when Mr. Scratch spoiled Harry as he did and weakened her authority by constant interference difference of sex gave point to many of these nursery squabbles as it so often does to domestic broils boys will never do what they're asked Polly would complain girls ask such unreasonable things was Harry's retort not half so unreasonable as the things you ask ah that's a different thing women have got to do what men tell them whether it's reasonable or not no they've not at least that's only husbands and wives oh women are inferior animals said Harry try ordering mama to do what you want and see said Polly they've got to give orders and women have to obey said Harry falling back on the general principle and when I get a wife I'll take care I make her do what I tell her but you'll have to obey your husband when you get one I won't have a husband and then I can do as I like oh won't you you'll try to get one I know girls always want to be married I'm sure I don't know why said Polly they must have had enough of men if they have brothers and so they went on ad infinitum with ceaseless arguments that prove nothing and convince nobody and a continual stream of contradiction that just fell short of downright quarrelling indeed there was a kind of snapping even less near to a dispute than in cases just mentioned the little scratches like some other children were under the unfortunate delusion that it sounds clever to hear little boys and girls snap each other up with smart singing and old as rather vulgar play upon words such as I'll give you a Christmas box which ear will you have it on I won't stand it pray take a chair you shall have it tomorrow tomorrow never comes and so if a visitor kindly began to talk to one of the children another was sure to draw near and take up all the first child's answers with smart comments and catches that sounded as silly as they were tiresome and impertinent and as ill mannered as this was Mr. and Mrs. Scratch never put a stop to it indeed it was only a caricature what they did themselves but they often said I can't think how it is the children are always squabbling it is wonderful how the state of mind of a whole household is influenced by the heads of it Mr. Scratch was a very kind master and Mrs. Scratch was a very kind mistress and yet their servants lived in perpetual fear of irritability that fell just short of discontent they jostled each other on the back stairs said harsh things in the pantry and kept up a perennial warfare on the subject the duty of the sexes with the general man servant they gave warning on the slightest provocation the very dog was infected by the snapping mania he was not a brave dog he was not a vicious dog and no high breeding sanctioned his pretensions to arrogance but like his owners he had contracted a bad habit a trick which made him the pest of all timid visitors and indeed of all visitors whatsoever the moment anyone approached the house on certain occasions when he was spoken to and often in no traceable connection with any cause at all Snap, the mongrel would rush out and bark in his little sharp voice yep, yep, yep if the visitor made a stand he would bound away sideways on his four little legs but the moment the visitor went on his way again Snap was at his heels yep, yep, yep he barked at the milkman, the butcher's boy, and the baker though he saw them every day he never got used to the washerwoman and she never got used to him she said he put her in mind that their black dog in the pilgrim's progress he sat at the gate in summer and you have to every vehicle and every pedestrian who ventured to pass on the high road he never but once had the chance of barking at burglars and then, though he barked long and loud nobody got up, for they said it's only Snap's way the scratches lost a silver teapot a silt and cheese and two electrocrisis mugs on this occasion and Mr. and Mrs. Scratch dispute who it was who discouraged Reliance on Snap's warning to present day one Christmas time a certain hot tempered gentleman came to visit the scratches a tall, sandy, energetic young man who carried his own bag from the railway the bag had been crammed rather than packed after the want of bachelors and you could see where the heel of a boot distended the leather and where the bottle of shaving cream lay as he came up to the house out came Snap as usual yep, yep, yep now the gentleman was very fond of dogs and had borne this greeting some dozen times from Snap who for his part knew the visitor quite as well as the washerwoman and rather better than the butcher's boy the gentleman had good sensible well-behaved dogs of his own and was greatly disgusted with Snap's conduct nevertheless he spoke kindly to him and Snap, who had had many a bit from his plate could not help stopping for a minute to lick his hand but no sooner did the gentleman proceed on his way then Snap flew at his heels in the usual fashion yep, yep, yep on which the gentleman being a hot tempered and one of those people with whom it is as they say a word and a blow and the blow first made a dash at Snap and Snap, taking to his heels the gentleman flung his carpet bag after him the bottle of shaving cream hit upon a stone and was smashed the heel of the boot caught Snap on the back and sent him squealing to the kitchen and he never barked at the gentleman again if the gentleman disapproved of the Snap's conduct he still less liked the continual snapping of the Scratch family themselves he was an old friend of Mr. and Mrs. Scratch, however and knew that they were really happy together and that it was only a bad habit which made them constantly contradict each other it was an illusion to their real affection for each other and their perpetual disputing that he called them the snapping turtles when the War of Words waxed hottest at the dinner table between his host and hostess he would drive his hands through his shock of sandy hair and say with a comical glance out of his unburized don't flirt my friends, it makes a bachelor feel awkward and neither Mr. nor Mrs. Scratch could help laughing with a little scratches his measures were more vigorous he was very fond of children and a good friend to them he grudged no time or trouble to help them in their games and projects but he would not tolerate their snapping up each other's words in his presence he was much more truly kind than many visitors who think it polite to smile at the sauciness and forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children so often to show off before strangers these civil acquaintances only abuse both children and parents behind their backs for the very bad habits which they helped to encourage the hot tempered gentlemen's treatment of his young friends was very different one day he was talking to Polly and making some inquiries about her lessons to which she was replying in a quiet and sensible fashion when up came Master Harry and began to display his wit by comments on the conversation and by snapping at and contradicting his sister's remarks to which she retorted and the usual snap dialogue went on as usual then you like the music? said the hot tempered gentlemen yes I like it very much said Polly oh do you Harry broken what are you always crying over it for? not always crying over it yes you are no I'm not I only cry sometimes when I stick fast your music must be very sticky for you always step fast hold your tongue said the hot tempered gentlemen with what he imagined to be a very waggish air Harry put out his tongue and held it with his finger and thumb it was unfortunate that he had not time to draw it in before the hot tempered gentlemen gave him a stinging box on the ear which brought his teeth rather sharply together on the tip of his tongue which was bitten in consequence it's no use speaking said the hot tempered gentlemen driving his hands through his hair children are like dogs they are very good judges of their real friends Harry did not like the hot tempered gentlemen a bit the less because he was obliged to respect and obey him and all the children welcomed him boisterously when he arrived that Christmas which we have spoken of in connection with his attack on snap it was on the morning of Christmas Eve that the china punch bowl was broken Mr. Scratch had a warm dispute with Mrs. Scratch as to whether it had been kept in a safe place after which both had a brisk encounter with the housemaid who did not know how it happened and she, flouncing down the back passage kicked snap who forfeit flew at the gardener as he was bringing in the horse radish for the beef who stepping backwards trod upon the cat who spit and swore and went up the pump with her tail as big as a fox's brush to avoid this domestic scene the hot tempered gentlemen withdrew to the breakfast room and took up a newspaper by and by Harry and Polly came in and they were soon snapping comfortably over their own affairs in a corner the hot tempered gentlemen's umber eyes had been looking over the top of his newspaper at them for some time before he called Harry my boy and Harry came up to him show me your tongue Harry said he what for? said Harry you're not a doctor do as I tell you said the hot tempered gentlemen and as Harry saw his hand moving he put his tongue out with all possible haste the hot tempered gentlemen sighed ah he said in depressed tones I thought so Polly come and let me look at yours Polly who had crept up during the process now put out hers but the hot tempered gentlemen looked gloomier still and shook his head what is it? cried both the children what do you mean? and they seized the tips of their tongues and their fingers to feel for themselves but the hot tempered gentlemen went slowly out of the room without answering passing his hands through his hair saying ah hum and nodding with an air of grave foreboding just as he crossed the threshold he turned back and put his head into the room have you ever noticed that your tongues are going pointed? he asked no cried the children with alarm are they? if ever you find them becoming forked said the gentlemen in solemn tones let me know with which he departed gravely shaking his head in the afternoon the children attacked him again do tell us what's the matter with our tongues you were snapping and squabbling just as usual this morning said the hot tempered gentlemen well we forgot said Polly we don't mean anything you know but never mind that now please tell us about our tongues what is going to happen to them? I'm very much afraid said the hot tempered gentlemen in solemn measured tones you are both of you fast going to the dogs? suggested Harry who was learned in canned expressions TOGS said the hot tempered gentlemen driving his hand through his hair bless your life no nothing half so pleasant that is unless all dogs were like snap which immersively they are not no my sad fear is that you are both of you rapidly going to the snapdragons not another word will the hot tempered gentlemen say on the subject in the course of a few hours Mr. and Mrs. Scratch recovered their equanimity the punch was brewed in a jug and tasted quite as good as usual the evening was very lively there were a Christmas tree yule cakes log and candles firmity and snapdragon after supper when the company were tired of the tree and gained an appetite by the hard exercise of stretching to high branches blowing out dangerous tapers and cutting ribbon and pack threads in all directions supper came with its welcome cakes and firmity and punch and when firmity somewhat pulled upon the taste and it must be admitted to boast more sentiment than flavour as a Christmas dish the yule candles were blown out and both the spirits and the pallets of the party were stimulated by the mysterious and pungent pleasures of snapdragon then as the hot tempered gentlemen warned his coat tails at the yule log the groom's smile stole over his features as he listened to the sounds of the room in the darkness the blue flames leaped and danced the raisins were snapped and snatched from hand to hand scattering fragments of flame hither and thither the children shouted as the fiery sweetmeats burnt away the mockish taste of the firmity Mr. Scratch cried that they were spoiling the carpet Mrs. Scratch complained that he had spilled some brandy on her dress Mr. Scratch retorted that she should not wear so susceptible of damage in the family circle Mrs. Scratch recalled an old speech of Mr. Scratch on the subject of wearing one's nice things for the benefit of one's family and not reserving them for visitors Mr. Scratch remembered that Mrs. Scratch's excuse for buying that particular dress when she did not need it was her intention of keeping it for the next year the children disputed as to the credit for courage and the amount of raisins due to each snap barked furiously at the flames and hustled each other for good places in the doorway and would not have allowed the man servants to see at all but he looked over their heads sit sit at it at it chuckle the hot tempered gentlemen in undertones and when he said this it seemed as if the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Scratch rose higher in matrimonial repartee and the children's squabbles became louder and the dog yelled as if it were mad and the maid's contest was sharper whilst the snapdragon flames leaped up and up and blue fire flew about the room like foam and last the raisins were finished the flames were all put out and the company withdrew to the drawing room only Harry lingered come along Harry said the hot tempered gentlemen wait a minute said Harry you'd better come said the gentleman why? said Harry there's nothing to stop for Randy is burnt out no it's not said Harry well almost it would be better if it were quite out now come it's dangerous for a boy like you to be alone with the snapdragons tonight fiddle sticks said Harry go your own way then said the hot tempered gentlemen and he bounced out of the room and Harry was left alone he crept up to the table where one little pale blue flame flickered in the snapdragon dish kiddie it should go out said Harry at this moment the brandy bottle on the sideboard caught his eye just a little more murmured Harry to himself and he uncorked the bottle and poured a little brandy onto the flame now of course as soon as the brandy bottle touched the fire all the brandy and the bottle blazed up at once and the bottle split to pieces and it was very fortunate for Harry that he did not get seriously hurt a little of the hot brandy did get into his eyes and made them smart so they had to shut them for a few seconds but when he opened them again what a sight he saw all over the room the blue flames leaped and danced as they had leaped and danced in the soup plate with the raisins and Harry saw that each successive flame was the fold in the long body of a bright blue dragon which moved like the body of a snake and the room was full of these dragons in the face they were like the dragons these made a very old blue and white china and they had forked tongues like the tongues of serpents they were most beautiful in color being sky blue lobsters who have just changed their coats are very handsome but the violet and indigo of a lobsters coat is nothing compared to the brilliant sky blue of a snapdragon how they leaped about they were forever leaping over each other like seals at play but if it was play at all with them it was of a very rough kind for as they jumped they snapped and barked at each other and their barking was like that of the barking new in the zoo logical gardens they tore the hair out of each other's heads with their claws and scattered it about the floor and as it dropped it was like the flecks of flame people shake from their fingers when they are eating snapdragon raisins Harry stood aghast what fun said a voice close by him he saw that one of the dragons was lying near and not joining in the game he had lost one of the forks of his tongue by accident and could not bark for a while glad you think it funny said Harry I don't that's right snap away sneered the dragon you're a perfect treasure they'll take you in with the third round not those creatures cried Harry yes those creatures if I hadn't lost my bark off said the dragon oh the game will exactly suit you what is it please Harry asked you better not say please to the others said the dragon if you don't want to have all your hair pulled out the game is this you have always to be jumping over somebody else and you must either talk or bark if anybody speaks to you you must snap in return I need not explain what snapping is you know if anyone by accident gives a civil answer a clawful of his hair is torn out of his head to stimulate his brain nothing can be funnier I dare say it suits you capilly said Harry but I'm sure we shouldn't like it I mean men, women and children it wouldn't do for us at all wouldn't it? said the dragon you don't know how many human beings dance with dragons on Christmas Eve if we are kept in a house till after midnight we can pull people out of their beds and take them to dance in Vesuvius Vesuvius cried Harry yes Vesuvius, we come from Italy originally you know our skins are the colour of the bay of Naples we live on dry grapes in ardent spirits we have glorious fun in the mountains sometimes oh what snapping and scratching and tearing delicious sometimes when the squabbling becomes too great and Mother Mountain won't stand it and spits us all out and throws cinders after us but this is only at times we had a charming meeting last year so many human beings and how they can snap we always have plenty of saucy children and servants husbands and wives too and quite as many of the former as the latter if not more but besides these a country postmaster who devoted his talents to insulting the public instead of learning the postal regulations three cab men and two fares two young shop girls from a Berlin wolf shop in a town where there was no competition four commercial travellers six landlady six old Bailey lawyers several widows from arm houses seven single gentlemen and nine cats who swore at everything a sofa-colored screaming cockatoos a lot of street children from a town a pack of mongrel currs from the colonies who snapped the human beings heels and five elderly ladies in their Sunday bonnets with prayer books who had been fighting for good seats in church Dear me said Harry you can find nothing sharper to say than Dear me you will fare badly I can tell you but it's not forked yet I see here they are however off with you and if you value your curls snap and before Harry could reply the snapdragons came on their third round and as they passed they swept Harry with them he shuddered as he looked at his companions they were as transparent as shrubs but of this lovely cerulean blue and as they leaped they barked hoof hoof like barking news and as they leaped Harry had to leap with them besides barking they snapped and wrangled with each other and this Harry must join also pleasant isn't it said one of the blue dragons not at all snapped Harry that's your bad taste snapped the blue dragon no it's not snapped Harry then it's pride and perverseness you want your hair combing please don't shriek Harry for getting himself on which the dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head and Harry screamed and the blue dragons barked and danced that big your hair curl didn't it asked another dragon leaping over Harry that's no business of yours Harry snapped as well as he could for crying it's more my pleasure than business retorted the dragon keep it to yourself then snapped Harry I mean to share it with you when I get a hold of your hair snapped the dragon wait till you get the chance Harry snapped with desperate presence on mind do you know whom you're talking to ruled the dragon and he opened his mouth from ear to ear and shot out his fourth tongue in Harry's face and the boy was so frightened that he forgot to snap and cried piteously oh I beg your pardon please don't on which the blue dragon clawed another handful of hair out of his head and all the dragons barked as before how long the dreadful game went on Harry never exactly knew well practice as he was in snapping in the nursery he often failed to think of a retort and paid for his unreadiness by the loss of his hair oh how foolish and wearisome all this rudeness and snapping now seemed to him but on he had to go wondering all the time how near it was to 12 o'clock and whether the snap dragons would stay till midnight and take him with them to Vesuvius at last to his joy it became evident that the brandy was coming to an end the dragons moved slower they could not leap so high and at last one after another they began to go out oh if they only all of them get away before 12 thought poor Harry at last there was only one he and Harry jumped about and snapped and barked and Harry was thinking with joy that he was the last when the clock in the hall gave that whirring sound which clocks do before they strike as if it were clearing its throat oh please go screamed Harry in despair the blue dragon leaped up the awful of hair out of the boy's head that it seemed as if part of the skin went too but that leap was his last he went out at once vanishing before the first stroke of 12 and Harry was left on his face in the darkness when his friends found him there was blood on his forehead Harry thought it was where the dragon had clawed him but they said it was a cut from a fragment of the broken brandy bottle the dragons had disappeared as completely as the brandy Harry was cured of snapping he had had quite enough of it for a lifetime and the catch contradictions of the household now made him shudder Polly had not the benefit of his experiences and yet she improved also in the first place snapping like other kinds of quarreling requires two parties to it and Harry would never be a party to snapping any more and when he gave civil and kind answers to Polly's smart speeches she felt ashamed of herself and hated them in the second place she learned about the snapdragons Harry told her all about it and to the hot tempered gentleman how do you think it's true Polly asked the hot tempered gentleman hmm said he driving his hand through his hair you know I warned you you were going to the snapdragons Harry and Polly snubbed the little ones when they snapped and utterly discounted in snapping in the nursery the example and admonitions of elder children a powerful instrument of nursery discipline and before long there was not a sharp tongue among all the little scratches but I doubt if the parents were ever cured I don't know if they heard the story besides bad habits are not easily cured when one is old I fear Mr. and Mrs. Scratch have yet got to dance with the dragons end of section 17