Chapter XIII: Part TWO: Fairy Stories (5)

But the children looked sidewise at him, and could move neither hand nor foot. This was because they had never seen such an extraordinary being. He was no taller than Frederic. His body was round and bloated, and his little weazen legs could hardly support its weight. His head was queer and square, and his face too ugly for anything, for not only was his nose long and pointed, but his little bulging eyes glittered, and his wide mouth was opened in a ferocious way. He was clad in black from top to toe, and his name was Tutor Ink.

Now, as the children stood staring like stone images, their mother cried out angrily: “You rude children, what are you thinking of? Come! come! give the tutor your hands.”

The children, taking heart, did as their mother bade them. But as soon as Tutor Ink took hold of their hands, they jumped back, screaming: “Oh! Oh! It hurts!”

The tutor laughed aloud, and showed a needle, which he had hidden in his hand to prick the children with. Fanchon was weeping; but Frederic growled. “Just try that again, little Big-Body, if you dare!”

“Why did you do that, Tutor Ink?” asked the Count, somewhat annoyed.

“Well, it’s just my way!” answered Tutor Ink; “I can’t alter it!” and with that he stuck his hands to his sides, and went on laughing until his voice sounded like the noise of a broken rattle.

Alas! after that there was no more running about in the wood! Instead the children, day after day, had to sit in the house, repeating after Tutor Ink strange gibberish, not one word of which they could understand.

With what longing eyes they looked at the wood! Often they thought they heard, amidst the happy songs of the birds and the rustling of the trees, the voice of the Stranger Child, calling, and calling: “Fanchon! Frederic! Are you not coming to play with me? Oh, come! I have made you a palace all of flowers! We will play there, and I will give you all sorts of beautiful stones! And then we’ll fly through the air, and build cloud-castles! Come! Oh, come!”

At this the children’s thoughts were so drawn to the wood, that they neither heard nor saw their tutor any longer; although he thumped on the table with both his fists, and hummed, and growled, and snarled.

At last one day the Count perceived how pale the children were getting, and bade Tutor Ink take them for a walk. The Tutor did not like the idea at all. And the children did not like it either, saying:--

“What business has Tutor Ink in our darling wood?”

WHAT HAPPENED WHEN TUTOR INK TOOK THE CHILDREN TO THE WOOD

“Well, Tutor Ink, is it not delightful here in our wood?” asked Frederic.

Tutor Ink made a face, and muttered: “Stupid nonsense! All one does is to tear his stockings! One can’t hear a word because of the abominable screeching of the birds!”

“But surely you love the flowers?” Fanchon chimed in.

At this Tutor Ink’s face became a deep cherry-colour, and he beat his hands about him, crying: “Stupid nonsense! Ridiculous nonsense! There are no decent flowers in this wood!”

“But don’t you see those dear little Lilies-of-the-valley peeping up at you with such bright loving eyes?” asked Fanchon.

“What! What!” the Tutor screamed. “Flowers!--eyes?--Ha! Ha!--Nice eyes!--Useless things!” And with that he stooped, and plucking up a handful of the lilies, roots and all, threw them into the thicket.

Fanchon could not help shedding bitter tears, and Frederic gnashed his teeth in anger. Just then a little Robin alighted on a branch near the Tutor’s head, and began to sing sweetly. The Tutor, picking up a stone, threw it, and the bird fell dying to the ground.

Frederic could restrain himself no longer. “You horrible Tutor Ink!” he cried, “what did the little bird do to you, that you should strike it dead?” And looking toward the thicket, he called sadly: “Oh! where are you, beautiful Shining Child? Oh, come! Only come! Let us fly far, far away! I cannot stay beside this horrible creature any longer.”

And Fanchon, stretching out her hands, sobbed and wept bitterly. “Oh, you darling Shining Child,” she cried. “Come to us! Come to us! Save us! Save us! Tutor Ink is killing us, as he is killing the flowers and birds!”

“What do you mean by the Shining Child?” snarled Tutor Ink.

But at that instant there was a loud whispering, and a rustling, in the thicket, and a sound as of muffled drums tolling in the distance. Then the children saw, in a shining cloud that floated above them, the beautiful face of the Stranger Child, and tears like glittering pearls were rolling down its rosy cheeks.

“Ah! darling playmates!” it cried. “I cannot come to you any more! Farewell! Farewell! The Gnome Mouche has you in his power! Oh! you poor children, good-bye! good-bye!”

And then the Stranger Child soared up far into the clouds. And the most marvellous thing happened! Behind the children there began a most horrid, fearsome buzzing and humming, snarling and growling, and, lo! Tutor Ink had changed into an enormous frightful-looking fly. And he began to fly upward heavily, following the Stranger Child.

Fanchon and Frederic, overpowered with terror, ran out of the wood, and did not dare to look up at the sky until they had got some distance away. And, then, when they did so, all that they could see, was a shining speck in the clouds, glittering like a star, and coming nearer and downward.

The star grew bigger and bigger, and the children could hear, as if it were, the call of a trumpet; and presently they saw that the star was really a splendid bird with shining purple plumage. It came dropping down to the wood, clapping its mighty wings, and singing loud and clear.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted Frederic. “That is a Purple Bird from the Fairy Court! He will bite Tutor Ink to death! The Shining Child is saved!--and so are we! Come, Fanchon, let us get home as fast as we can, and tell our father about it.”

WHAT THE COUNT DID TO TUTOR INK

The children burst into the house where their parents were sitting.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” Frederic shouted. “The Purple Bird has bitten Tutor Ink to death!”

“Oh, Father dear, Mother dear!” cried Fanchon. “Tutor Ink is not Tutor Ink at all! He is really the wicked Mouche, King of the Gnomes; a monstrous fly, but a fly with clothes and shoes and stockings on!”

“Who on earth has been putting such nonsense into your heads?” asked the Countess.

And the parents gazed at the children in utter amazement, while they went oh to tell about the Stranger Child whose mother was a great Fairy Queen, and about the Gnome King, Mouche, and the Purple Bird.

The Count grew very grave and thoughtful. “Frederic,” said he, “you are really a sensible boy, and I must admit that Tutor Ink has always seemed to me a strange mysterious creature. Your mother and I are by no means satisfied with him, particularly your mother. He has such a terrible sweet-tooth, that there’s no way of keeping him from the sugar and jams. And, then, he hums and buzzes in such a distressing manner. But in spite of all this, my dear boy, just think calmly for a minute. Even if there are such things as Gnomes in the world, do you really mean to say that your Tutor has become a fly?”

Frederic looked his father steadily in the face with his clear blue eyes, then said:--

“I should not have believed it myself, if the Stranger Child had not said so, and if I had not seen with my own eyes that he is only a horrible fly, and pretends to be Tutor Ink. And then,” continued Frederic, while his father shook his head in wonder, “see what Mother says about him. Is he not ravenous for sweet things? Is that not just like a fly? And then his hummings and buzzings.”

“Silence,” cried the Count. “Whatever Tutor Ink is, one thing is certain, the Purple Bird has not bitten him to death! for there he comes out of the wood!”

At this the children uttered loud screams, and rushed behind the door. In truth, Tutor Ink was approaching, but he was wild-looking and bewildered. He was buzzing and humming, and springing high in the air, first to one side, then to the other, and banging his head against the trees. He tumbled into the house, and dashed at the milk-jug, and popped his head into it so that the milk ran over the sides. Then he gulped and gulped, making a horrid noise of swallowing.

“What ails you, Tutor Ink?” cried the Countess. “What are you about?”

“Are you out of your senses?” asked the Count. “Is the foul fiend after you?”

But without making any answer, Tutor Ink, taking his mouth from the milk-jug, threw himself down on the dish of butter, and began to lick it with his pointed tongue. Then, with a loud buzzing, he sprang off the table and began to stagger hither and thither about the room, as though he was drunk.

“This is pretty behaviour!” cried the Count, as he tried to seize Tutor Ink by the coat tails; but Tutor Ink managed to elude him deftly.

Just then Frederic came running up with his father’s big fly-flapper in his hand, and gave it to the Count, crying:--

“Here you are, Father! Knock the terrible Mouche to death!”

The Count took the fly-flapper; and then they all set to work to drive away Tutor Ink. Fanchon and Frederic and their mother took table napkins, and made sweeps with them in the air, driving the Tutor backward and forward, here and there, while the Count kept striking at him with the fly-flapper.

Wilder and wilder grew the chase. “_Hum! Hum!_” and “_Sum! Sum!_” went the Tutor, storming hither and thither. “_Flip! Flap!_” and “_Clip! Clap!_” went the table napkins and fly-flapper.

At last the Count managed to hit the Tutor’s coat tails. Then just as the Count was going to strike a second time, up bounced the Tutor into the air, and, with renewed strength, stormed, humming and buzzing, out of the door, and away among the trees.

“Well done!” exclaimed the Count. “We are rid of that abominable Tutor Ink! Never shall he cross my threshold again!”

HOW THE NAUGHTY PLAYTHINGS BECAME ALIVE

Fanchon and Frederic now breathed freely once more. A great weight was taken off their hearts. They rejoiced that now, since the wicked Mouche was gone, the Stranger Child might come back. They hurried to the wood. Everything was silent and deserted. Not a merry note of a single bird was there. Instead of the joyous singing of the brook, and the gladsome rustling of the leaves, they seemed to hear sighs and moans that passed through the air. Just then, close behind them, snarling voices cried out:--

“Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! You despised us! You did not know how to treat us! We are come back to punish you!”

Fanchon and Frederic looked around, and saw the little hunter and the harper rise out of the thicket. The harper twanged his tiny harp, while the hunter took aim at Frederic; and both cried out:--

“Wait, you boy and girl! We are obedient servants of Tutor Ink! He will be here in a moment, and then we’ll pay you well for despising us!”

Terrified, the children turned to run away, when the doll rose up out of the thicket, and squeaked out:--

“Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! I am an obedient servant of Tutor Ink! He will be here in a moment, and then I’ll pay you well for despising me!” And with that the naughty creature sent great splashes of muddy water flying at Fanchon and Frederic, so that they were quite wet.

Then the children fell on their knees sobbing: “Oh, how unfortunate we are! Will no one take pity on us!”

Scarcely had they said thus, when the playthings disappeared. The rushing of the brook turned to the sweetest music. All the wood streamed with a wonderful sparkling light. And, lo! the Stranger Child came forth from the thicket, surrounded by such brilliant rays that Fanchon and Frederic had to shut their eyes for a minute.

Then they felt themselves touched gently, and the Stranger Child’s sweet voice said:--

“Oh, do not mourn for me, dear playmates! Though you will not see me again, still I shall be near you. Neither the wicked Mouche nor any other Gnome shall have power to harm you. Only go on loving me faithfully.”

“That we shall! that we shall! dear Shining Child!” the children cried. “We love you with all our hearts!”

And at last when they could open their eyes, the Stranger Child had vanished; and all their grief and fear were gone, too. Delight beamed in their eyes and shone in their cheeks.

And what the Stranger Child had said, came to pass. Nothing ever harmed Fanchon and Frederic. They grew up handsome, clever, and sweet-tempered; and all that they undertook prospered. And as the years went on, they still, in their dreams, played with the Stranger Child, who never ceased to bring them the loveliest things from its Fairy Home.

_Adapted_

MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY

A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME