The Admiral's Caravan Part 6

she exclaimed. "I s'pose that's so the fam'ly can stand up when they come inside." But there was nothing in the house but a lot of old umbrellas tied up in bundles and marked "DANGEROUS," and as she didn't think these were very interesting, and as, moreover, her head by this time was out of the door at the back, she crawled through without stopping and scrambled up on to her feet again.

"Oh, lovely!" cried Dorothy, clapping her hands in a rapture of delight; for she found herself in a beautiful wood--not a make-believe affair like the toy-farm, but a real wood with soft gra.s.s and pads of dark-green moss growing underfoot, and with ferns and forest flowers springing up on all sides. The wind was rustling pleasantly in the trees, and the sunlight, s.h.i.+ning down through the dancing leaves, made little patches of light that chased each other about on the gra.s.s, and, as Dorothy walked along, she felt happier than she had at any time since losing the Blue Admiral Inn. To be sure, it wasn't the easiest matter in the world to get along, for as the trees and the bushes and the blades of gra.s.s were all of the natural size and Dorothy was no bigger than a wren, she fell over a good many twigs and other small obstacles, and tumbled down a great many times. Then, too, she found it rather trying to her nerves, at first, to meet with rabbits as big as horses, to come suddenly upon quails whistling like steam-engines, and to be chattered at by squirrels a head taller than she herself was; but she was a very wise little child about such matters, and she said to herself, "Why, of course, they're only their usual sizes, you know, and they're sure to be the same scary things they always are,"--and then she stamped her foot at them and said "Shoo!" very boldly, and, after laughing to see the great creatures whisk about and dash into the thicket, she walked along quite contentedly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "SHE FOUND IT RATHER TRYING TO HER NERVES, AT FIRST, TO MEET WITH RABBITS AS BIG AS HORSES."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "--TO BE CHATTERED AT BY SQUIRRELS A HEAD TALLER THAN SHE HERSELF WAS."]

Presently she heard a voice singing. It seemed to come from a thick part of the wood at one side of the path; and, after hesitating a moment, Dorothy stole into the bushes, and, creeping cautiously along until she was quite near the sound, crouched down in the thicket to listen.

It was a very small voice, and it was singing this song:

I know a way Of hearing what the larks and linnets say.

The larks tell of the suns.h.i.+ne and the sky; The linnets from the hedges make reply, And boast of hidden nests with mocking lay.

I know a way Of keeping near the rabbits at their play.

They tell me of the cool and shady nooks Where waterfalls disturb the placid brooks That I may go and frolic in the spray.

I know a way Of catching dewdrops on a night in May, And threading them upon a spear of green, That through their sides translucent may be seen The sparkling hue that emeralds display.

I know a way Of trapping sunbeams as they nimbly play At hide-and-seek with meadow-gra.s.s and flowers, And holding them in store for dreary hours When winds are chill and all the sky is gray.

I know a way Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay And storing it in flasks of petals made, To scent the air when all the flowers fade And leave the woodland world to sad decay.

I know a way Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay So still awhile, that, as they hang in air, I weave them into frosty lace, to wear About my head upon a sultry day.

Dorothy, crouching down in the thicket, listened to this little song with great delight; but she was extremely sentimental where poetry was concerned, and it happened that when she heard this last verse she clasped her hands in a burst of rapture and exclaimed in quite a loud voice, "Oh, delicious!" This was very unfortunate, for the song stopped short the instant she spoke, and for a moment everything was perfectly silent; then the little voice spoke up again, and said, "Who is that?"

"It's I," said Dorothy.

"It's two eyes, if it comes to that," said the little voice; "I can see them through the bushes. Are you a rabbit?"

"No," said Dorothy, laughing softly to herself, "I'm a child."

"Oh!" exclaimed the voice. It was a very little Oh; in fact, it sounded to Dorothy as if it might be about the size of a cherry-stone, and she said to herself, "I verily believe it's a fairy, and she certainly can't be a bit bigger than my thumb--my regular thumb, I mean," she added, holding up her hand and looking at the size of it with great contempt.

Then the little voice spoke up again and said, "And how big are you?"

"I'm about three inches tall," said Dorothy; and she was so excited by this time at the prospect of seeing a real live fairy for the first time in her life, that she felt as if a lot of flies were running up and down on the back of her neck.

"Dear me!" exclaimed the little voice, expressing great astonishment in its small way. "Why, there's hardly enough of you to put in a corner."

Dorothy reflected for a moment and then called out, "But, you know, _that_ depends altogether on the size of the corner."

"Oh, no, it doesn't!" said the little voice, very confidently. "All corners are the same size if you only get close enough to 'em."

"Dear me!" said Dorothy to herself, "how very intelligent she is! I _must_ have a look at her"; and, pus.h.i.+ng the leaves gently aside, she cautiously peeped out.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "PUs.h.i.+NG THE LEAVES GENTLY ASIDE, SHE CAUTIOUSLY PEEPED OUT."]

It was a charming little dell, carpeted with fine moss, and with strange-looking wild flowers and tall nodding gra.s.ses growing about the sides of it; but, to Dorothy's astonishment, the fairy proved to be an extremely small field-mouse, sitting up like a little pug-dog and gazing attentively at the thicket: "and _I_ think"--the Mouse went on, as if it were tired of waiting for an answer to its last remark--"_I_ think a child should be six inches tall, _at least_."

This was so ridiculous that Dorothy had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming with laughter. "Why," she exclaimed, "I used to be"--and here she had to stop and count up on her fingers as if she were doing a sum--"I used to be eight times as big as _that_, myself."

"Tut, tut!--" said the Mouse, and the "tuts" sounded like beads dropping into a pill-box--"tut, tut! Don't tell me such rubbis.h.!.+"

"Oh, you needn't _tut_ me," said Dorothy. "It's the exact truth."

"Then I don't understand it," said the Mouse, shaking its head in a puzzled way. "_I_ always thought children grew the other way."

"Well, you see,--" said Dorothy, in her old-fas.h.i.+oned way,--"you see, I've been very much reduced." (She thought afterward that this sounded rather as if she had lost all her property, but it was the only thing she could think of to say at the time.)

"I _don't_ see it at all," said the Mouse, fretfully, "and what's more, I don't see _you_, in fact, I don't think you ought to be hiding in the bushes and chattering at me in this way."

This seemed to Dorothy to be a very personal remark, and she answered, rather indignantly, "And why not, I should like to know?"

"Because,"--said the Mouse in a very superior manner,--"because little children should be seen and not heard."

"Hoity-toity!" said Dorothy, very sharply. (I don't think she had the slightest idea of what this meant, but she had read somewhere in a book that it was an expression used when other persons gave themselves airs, and she thought she would try the effect of it on the Mouse.) But, to her great disappointment, the Mouse made no reply of any kind, and after picking a leaf and holding it up to its eyes for a moment, as if it were having a cry in its small way, the poor little creature turned about and ran into the thicket at the further side of the dell.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MOUSE LAMENTS.]

Dorothy was greatly distressed at this, and, jumping out of the bushes into the dell, she began calling, "Mousie! Mousie! Come back! I didn't mean it, dear. It was only an esperiment." But there was no answer, and, stooping down at the place where the Mouse had disappeared, she looked into the thicket. There was nothing there but a very small squirrel eating a nut; and, after staring at her for a moment in great astonishment, he threw the nut in her face and scampered off into the bushes.

"Nice manners, upon my word!" said Dorothy, in great indignation at this treatment, and then, standing up, she gazed about the dell rather disconsolately; but there was no living thing in sight except a fat b.u.t.terfly lazily swinging up and down on a blade of gra.s.s. Dorothy touched him with her finger to see if he were awake, but the b.u.t.terfly gave himself an impatient shake, and said, fretfully, "Oh, don't," and, after waiting a moment, to be sure that was all he had to say, she walked mournfully away through the wood.

CHAPTER VIII

SOMETHING ABOUT THE CAMEL

The wood wasn't nearly so pleasant now as it had been before, and Dorothy was quite pleased when, after walking a little way, she came in sight again of the bank covered with rocking-chairs, and running up, she hurried through the little door into the toy-shop.

Everything was just as she had left it, and the stream was running merrily under the castle bridge; but just as she was going by, the bridge itself began hitching up in the middle and pawing, as it were, at the banks of the stream in such an extraordinary manner that she stopped to see what was going to happen.

"It's sure to be something wonderous," she said to herself, as she stood watching it, and she was quite right about this, for the bridge presently turned into a remarkably spirited rocking-horse (dappled, with black spots scattered about), and after rocking back and forth once or twice, as if to be sure it really _was_ a horse, settled down perfectly still as if it never expected to be anything else. In fact, with the exception of a large fly, about as big as one of Dorothy's feet, that was buzzing about, everything in the window was now perfectly quiet, and drawing a long breath of relief, she walked away through the shop.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "AND FOUND THE CARAVAN SITTING IN A ROW ON A LITTLE BENCH AT THE DOOR."]

As she walked along on the shelf, she presently came to the grocer's shop and found the Caravan sitting in a row on a little bench at the door. The Admiral had the Camel in his lap, and they were all gazing at it with an air of extreme solicitude. It was a frowsy little thing with lumpy legs that hung down in a dangling way from the Admiral's knees, and Sir Walter was busily employed trying to make it drink something out of a bottle.

"What are you giving him?" inquired Dorothy, curiously.

"Glue," said the Admiral, promptly. "He needs stiffening up, you see."