Chapter VI

The day of Ooney’s departure Tom came in to tea at the Lodge as usual, and found the Missus of the Garland Inn sitting with Sally Drake by the fire, wringing her hands and telling her tale.

“And what I’m to do for a living, Mrs. Drake, I’m sure I don’t know,” said she. “The Duke’ll never put me up another Inn to take its place. Ah dear, dear, dear! to think of him with his Castle ten times as big as any one man needs, even if he does have to house nine-and-ninety servants to see to his wants. There now, if he could only spare me a little bit of what he’s got, I could set myself up again.”

“Wait a bit,” said Tom Cobble, “and don’t worry, Missus.” And he got out his book and buried his nose in it.

Sally Drake said sharply, “Put that there reading away, uncle, and sup your tea.”

“There’s no hurry,” said Tom Cobble, and poked the fire three times and said something to the poker. Then he had his tea, and when the Missus got back to the village she saw a quarter of the Duke’s Castle planted where the Garland Inn had stood, and two or three villagers standing about it waiting for a drink.

Now the Duke had overlooked a good many things, such as the grapes and the primroses and the squirrels, and a fountain of wine that appeared one day in the middle of his ornamental lake; and when the stone Cupid there took to singing “Ringa-ring-a-roses” at seven o’clock every evening and sat down with a splash at the finish, and when the white swans began to wear gold crowns on their heads, and every water-lily as it opened had a Queen-cake inside it, he was really rather proud of it, though he couldn’t understand it in the least; and he took all his best visitors to see the swans, and listen to the Cupid, and eat Queen-cakes to their hearts’ content. But when a quarter of his Castle, including the armoury, disappeared bodily one day, leaving his own suite of apartments open to the east wind, he felt that things had gone too far, and he must take steps.

So he told his Steward to make inquiries, and a week later the Steward reported that he’d heard there was a rumour of a portion of a Castle, but of course he couldn’t say whose, that had strayed by accident into Shortways; so the Duke got on his horse and rode to see for himself, and sure enough there was the missing bit. It now had a nice sign hanging out, with a picture, and the words “The Quarter-Castle” painted on it; and the Missus was serving drinks in the Armoury, using the helmets as pint-pots.

He called her out, and pointed at the building, and said, “Where did you pick that up, Missus?”

She curtseyed and replied, “Please, your Grace, it’s Tom Cobble’s doing.”

“Send for Tom Cobble,” said the Duke; and when Tom came he asked, “Is this your doing, Cobble?”

“Yes, sir,” said Tom Cobble.

“Is this your only doing, Cobble?” said the Duke.

“No, sir,” said Tom.

_The Duke discovered he was riding a large white kitten._
]

“Did you do the swans, and the lilies, and the fountain, and the squirrels, and all the rest of it, Cobble?” said the Duke.

“I did, sir,” said Tom.

The Duke frowned a mighty frown, and said in a voice of thunder, “What do you think should be the fate of the man who spoils the Duke’s Park and steals the Duke’s Castle?”

“I think, sir,” said Tom, “that he should marry the Duke’s daughter.”

“I haven’t got a daughter,” said the Duke. “Take a month’s wages, and go. You’re spoiled as a mortal, Tom Cobble, and no use to Shortways.”

He paid Tom his wages and rode away, and was so upset that he was quite half-way home before he discovered that he was riding on a large white kitten with blue eyes.

Tom pocketed his money, said good-bye to the villagers and Sally Drake, and left Shortways for ever. He hadn’t gone far before he heard a sound of sobbing on the high-road; and there was Ooney in her silver dress and check apron, crying her eyes out under a hedge. So he sat down in the grass beside her, and said, “What’s up?”

“Oh, Tom!” wept Ooney, “they’ve turned me out. I set up the Garland Inn so nice and proper, and did everything there as I’d learned how of the Missus, and tried to get them to come in regular for drinks like real human beings, and they didn’t like it at all. I was spoiled for a fairy, they said, and no use to Fairyland any more, so they gave me a wish and told me to go.”

“Where’s the wish?” asked Tom.

“On the tip of my tongue,” said Ooney.

“It’s better than nothing,” said Tom, “so let’s come along together, and see if we can’t find a place in the world after all.”

He had hardly said this when there was a sound of drums and trumpets on the road, and round the corner, gorgeous in the sunlight, came the long procession of Carlo’s Circus—black-and-white ponies, red-and-white clowns, ladies in spangles, boys in pink tights, Indians on elephants with feathers in their turbans, a Strong Man with a starry world upon his shoulders, and Prince Carlo himself in a golden chariot drawn by six white donkeys with red reins and tassels.

“Is it magic?” asked Ooney.

“No,” said Tom, “it’s the real thing.”

“Really real?” cried Ooney joyfully. “Oh, I _wish_ Prince Carlo would give us a job!”

No sooner had she wished than Prince Carlo said: “Whoa!” to his donkeys, stepped down from his chariot, and said:

“Do you happen to be looking for a job?”

“Yes, we do,” said Tom and Ooney in one breath.

“Well,” said the Prince, “my Strong Man’s just leaving me to get married to my Lady Equestrienne, and if _you_” (he turned to Tom) “think you could juggle with the world, and _you_” (he turned to Ooney) “can ride a cream pony on one toe and jump through a paper hoop, I’ll take you on.”

It was settled then and there, and Tom Cobble and Ooney joined the Circus. And before long, wherever it went, they became the chief attractions.

For Ooney in her silver dress and wreath of stars rode the pony like a moonbeam floating in mid-air, sometimes forgetting to stand on him even on tip-toe, and flying a few inches above his back all round the ring, so that the little boys and girls on the twopenny benches screamed for joy.

And Tom Cobble in pink tights and a gold belt played with the starry world as no Strong Man had ever done before, and while he tossed and caught it, and walked on it and balanced it, all sorts of lovely things happened to it; skylarks and swallows darted from it as it rolled in the sawdust, and filled the tent with twittering, or violets and peardrops fell from it as it tossed on the air, and sprinkled the twopenny benches, and the stars would dance on its surface and turn all sorts of colours, so that the little boys and girls screamed louder than ever.

In time Tom Cobble married Ooney, and when Prince Carlo retired they took the Circus over entirely, for the life exactly suited them.

“Thank goodness,” said Tom, “nobody minds _what_ magic you play in the Ring!”

And “Thank goodness,” said Ooney, “I’m doing something real at last!”

If ever their Circus comes your way, don’t miss it.

POEMS _By HUGH CHESTERMAN_

MERCHANT ADVENTURERS

_Merchant Adventurers off to the East,
What are you trading?_
Leather and cheese and golden grain,
Some for Russia, and some for Spain.
A hundred hides for the Zuyder Zee,
Twice as many for Lombardy,
And tin for the ports of Flanders.
Sacks of sea coal ten times ten,
Wool to sell to the weaver men,
With a cask of cider now and then
To cheer the Merchant Adventurers.

_And what will your ships bring home to port,
Merchant Adventurers?_
Pepper and cinnamon, wine and wheat,
Spice from Egypt, cloves from Crete,
Syrian silks of purest white,
A freight of fur from the Muscovite,
And anything else you want, sir!
_And plenty too, but you’ve forgot
Your ships may sink and your cargoes rot,
Peradventure they will—peradventure not—
Much venturing Merchant Adventurers!_

_Merchant Adventurers._
]

BROTHER BLAISE

Here sits Brother Blaise
All his days
With paper, paint and pen.
So aged is he, so cramped with age,
He seldom stirs, and turns a page
But now and then.
His eyes are set
On massive book of brave design
Whereon his hand makes, line by line,
Its curious alphabet.

The years go by (so slow
Their come and go
Time scarcely moves at all);
Only the Sun through some high window peeps
To mark the stealing hours, and creeps
From wall to wall.
It’s strange to think
That scribe and script must soon forgotten be—
And all his industry
But faded ink!
HUGH CHESTERMAN.

_Brother Blaise._
]

THE BOWMAN

It’s jolly to play at Make-Believe
And think what you might have been
An Anglo-Norman aristocrat
With his feudal this and his feudal that;
A stern Crusader, tough and tanned,
Jogging along to the Holy Land;
A Roundhead trooper, spick and span,
Yeoman, Knight or Javelin man.
But best of the bunch, as it seems to me,
The jolliest fellow of all was he
Who covered the whole of his six foot three
In a suit of Lincoln green.

Foemen knew the twang of his bow
And bowed them down at the patter
Of dropping arrows, designed to put
The fear of the Lord in Horse and Foot,
(You’ll hear them still, wherever you look,
Hissing about in the history book).
But only the laughing bowman knew
Just where they’d go and what they’d do.
For often enough a Knight would find
A hole in his front—and one behind—
And the mess that it made of his peace of mind
Was hardly a laughing matter.
HUGH CHESTERMAN.

_The Bowman._
]

THE BAFFLED BARD

In the palmy old days when a King went to war
A Minstrel was paid to make songs by the score,
To rhyme and tell stories
Of War and its glories;
He chanted the praises
Of fighting like blazes,
The pleasure of sticking
Your spear in a Viking
(What rapture to tap a
Real Dane on the “napper”!).
He rhymed about rallies,
And sorties and sallies,
And parleys and truces,
And sang their excuses
If either side lost: he piped like a linnet
And rhymed all the time without stopping a minute.

But, between you and me, all this musical prattle
Was easy enough with a nice sounding battle
Like Beaugé or Bampton,
Dundalk or Northampton;
His tongue would go curling
Round Senlac or Stirling,
While “trodden” and “sodden”
Are fine rhymes for Flodden,
Though I’m bound to confess he
Had trouble with Crecy;
But that’s not as hard as
The job that _this_ Bard has:
For Uffa the Angle,
Has just had a wrangle
With Sleddha the Saxon—Oh, didn’t they go it!
And Wiht-gara-burh was the Battle (poor Poet!).
HUGH CHESTERMAN.

_The Baffled Bard._
]

_He nearly forgot to pull in the tides._
]

THE MAN IN THE MOON _By ROSE FYLEMAN_

The Man in the Moon was very busy repainting the outside of his house.

It was a fine clear night, and of course it’s always pretty light up there anyway. He had a ladder and a pail of luminous paint. The paint was bright yellow, and he put it on thick. While he painted he sang, very loudly and cheerfully. This was the song he sang:

Oh, I am the Man in the Moon;
Won’t you visit me soon?
Should you be taking a trip to the stars
Please drop in on the way to Mars,
Morning or afternoon.

I am the Man in the Moon;
Put on your seven-league shoon.
The road is plain and you can’t go wrong;
Or if you think it would take too long,
Why not have a balloon?

I am the Man in the Moon
(How do you like my tune?)
I’ll give you a platter of good moon-cheese
Ripe and rich and as much as you please,
Crystal fruit from my orchard trees,
And silver honey from silver bees
To eat with an ivory spoon.

Presently Diana, his wife, came to the door.

“Mind the paint, Di,” said the Man in the Moon.

“That’s just what I _do_ mind,” said his wife. “They’re threatening to turn us out of the house because we can’t pay the rent, and you can find nothing better to do than to waste your time over an unnecessary job like that. And all the children wanting new shoes too! It’s scandalous. I’m not so young as I was, else I’ve half a mind to buckle-to myself and go out a-hunting again.”

“I’d love to see you,” said the Man in the Moon. “I’d just _love_ it. It would seem like old times. My dear, you’d create an enormous sensation.”

“And that’s just like your foolishness again,” said his wife. “I couldn’t even so much as get into the things, let alone run about in ’em. No, I’ve got some sense, if you haven’t. As to painting the house, I can’t imagine what you’re doing it for.”

“My dear,” said the Man in the Moon (whose name by the way is Tobias), “if you’ll wait a minute I’ll come down and tell you.”

He climbed down the ladder and sat down on a low cloudbank in front of the house.

“When I’ve finished,” he said, “it’ll look so beautiful that everyone will notice. ‘Oh, do look at the moon,’ they’ll say. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ And then I shall paint a big sign and put it on the roof. And I shall write on it: ‘CHEESE FOR SALE.’ You know, Diana, there’s no end to the cheese. The cellar’s one solid mass, and we could dig some out of the walls. They’re very thick. And everyone will rush to buy cheese. It’ll become quite the rage. All the sky people will come, and I shouldn’t wonder if the earth people came, too, before long. It will be _the_ thing to do. We shall make our fortunes in a couple of months.”

“And who’s going to pay the rent meanwhile?” said his wife. “The collector’s coming to-morrow.”

The Man in the Moon looked a little crestfallen. “Oh, something’ll turn up,” he said. “We’ll put him off for a few days. Give him a pound of cheese.”

“He’s had pounds and pounds already,” said his wife. “_That’s_ no use.” And she went in and slammed the door so hard that it began to rain a little.

The Man in the Moon finished the first coat of paint. Then he went to have a look at the tide-ropes in order to see whether they were running out properly, and after that he sat down on the doorstep and lighted his pipe, peering about to see whether the children were coming in.

His wife came to the window.

“Time those youngsters were in, isn’t it?” said the Man in the Moon.

“They’re all safe in bed,” she said. “All except Seven; she’s not back yet. She ought to be home. It’ll soon be dawn. Just like you, Tobias, not to see them come in.” Which was hardly fair, for the Moonbeams had all come in the back way, and they’re the quietest little things imaginable.

_Held up a glittering string of beads._
]

Five minutes later Seven came softly slipping round the edge of the house.

“Hullo, Daddy,” she said.

“Hullo, Seven,” said her father, and made room for her on the step beside him, for of all his ninety-nine daughters she is the favourite.

“I’ve had a lovely night,” she said. “And look what I’ve found.”

She held up a glittering string of beads. “It was lying at the bottom of a deep, deep well. There was a big frog in the well and when I danced for him he fetched it out for me. Isn’t it pretty?”

The Man in the Moon took it in his hands. “It _is_ pretty,” he said. And he turned it about in his fingers. One of the beads slipped off the thread. He threw it up into the air and caught it. It glittered wonderfully in the pale light.

Seven clapped her hands.

“Let’s play at marbles with them in the yard,” said the Man in the Moon.

But Seven was afraid her mother would see them from the house and send her to bed.

“Then let’s throw them at the stars,” said her father. “It would be such fun to hit one, and they’ll look so jolly flying through the sky.”

_I danced for him._
]

Seven clapped her hands again. “Oh, yes, Daddy,” she cried.

But her mother heard her and put her head out of the window again.

“Come to bed at once,” she said, and she came bustling down the stairs. But when she caught sight of the necklace lying on the step in a shining heap, she became intensely excited.

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“I found it at the bottom of a well on earth,” said Seven. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“Well, I never ... I declare ... of all the extraordinary things ...” gasped out her mother. “Give them to me, give them to me. For goodness’ sake take care none of them get lost.” She gathered up the beads in her apron and rushed indoors, but was out again in a moment, brandishing the evening paper in her free hand. “Listen to this,” she said:

SENSATION AT COURT.
FAIRY QUEEN LOSES HER STATE
NECKLACE.
SUBSTANTIAL REWARD TO
FINDER.

And she showed them the great black head-lines in the Fairy Mail.

“Do you really think it’s the Queen’s necklace?” said the Man in the Moon, who had been staring at her open-mouthed.

“Of course it is,” said his wife rather snappishly. “Anybody could see with half an eye that that’s no ordinary piece of jewelry. I shall telephone to the Court immediately. What a lucky thing that Seven found it! I wonder how it came there. I daresay the Queen dropped it. They say she’s dreadfully careless about her things.” She hurried away into the house, and they could presently hear her trying to get through to the Fairy Queen. Seven and her father sat looking at one another rather guiltily. “What a good thing we didn’t throw them away,” whispered the Man in the Moon. “Don’t tell your mother.”

By this time all the other Moonbeams were thoroughly aroused. They put their shining flaxen heads out of the windows.

“Come up, Seven,” they said. “Have you heard? We’re all to have new slippers. And Mother’s promised to take us for a picnic to the Milky Way to-morrow. Come up and tell us all about the necklace.”

Dear me! What a state of excitement they were all in! The Man in the Moon very nearly forgot to pull in the tides, and that would have been a catastrophe indeed.

I know you will be pleased to hear that it did turn out to be the Fairy Queen’s necklace, and the reward was an exceedingly handsome one, so that the children got not only new slippers but a new Sunday frock apiece. There was enough over besides to pay the rent for a year, and even something to put by for a rainy day.

But the Man in the Moon hasn’t given up his wonderful plan of selling cheese. I heard the other day that he was very busy painting his sign. So look out for it, won’t you?

CHEESE FOR SALE.
]

POEMS _By B. K. PYKE_

THE DREAM

All up the mountains,
All down the vale
Ran Pretty Polly,
Chased by a snail.

Down where the streamlet
Flowed to the sea
Ran Pretty Polly
Fast as could be.

Then our poor Polly,
Turning her head,
Found she had fallen
Out of her bed.

_Alec Buckels_

“_Chased by a snail._”
]

_Alec Buckels_
]

FRIENDLESS

I want a wiry pony
With a wild dark mane,
Who’d gallop me
To Anglesea
An’ then come home again.

I want a yellow doggie
With a wet black nose,
Who’d bathe with me
At Anglesea
An’ lick my little toes.
B. K. PYKE.

_Alec Buckels_
]

JOHNNY MUNNS

Hark to the wailing!
’Tis poor Johnny Munns
Calling for apples
And sugary buns.
B. K. PYKE.

_Alec Buckels_
]

RESPECTABLE PEOPLE

It’s very nice to eat your tea,
As Mother does, in company.
But oh, I think it better far
To grab for jam straight from the jar.
And if they send me up to bed
At least I go there feeling fed.
B. K. PYKE.

PARSON’S TWINS _By HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE_