‘It will make a good chapter for your story,’ said Moomintroll, steering his cloud to the kitchen window where he shouted to his mother. But Moominmamma was in a great hurry and went on making rissoles. ‘What have you found now, dear?’ she said. ‘Just be careful you don’t fall down!’
But down in the garden the Snork Maiden and Snufkin had discovered a new game. They steered at each other at full speed and collided with a soft bump. Then the first to fall off had lost.
‘Now we’ll see!’ cried Snufkin urging his cloud forward. But the Snork Maiden dodged cleverly to the side and then attacked him from underneath.
Snufkin’s cloud capsized, and he fell on his head in the flower-bed and his hat fell over his eyes.
‘Third round,’ squeaked Sniff, who was referee and was flying a bit above the others. ‘That’s two: one! Ready steady go!’
‘Shall we go on a little flying tour together?’ Moomintroll asked the Snork Maiden.
‘Certainly,’ she answered, steering her cloud up beside his. ‘Where shall we go?’
‘Let’s hunt up the Hemulen and surprise him,’ suggested Moomintroll.
They made a tour of the garden, but the Hemulen wasn’t in any of his usual haunts.
‘He can’t have gone far,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘Last time I saw him he was sorting his stamps.’
‘But that was six months ago,’ said Moomintroll.
‘Oh, so it was,’ she agreed. ‘We’ve slept since then, haven’t we?’
‘Did you sleep well, by-the-way?’ asked Moomintroll.
The Snork Maiden flew elegantly over a treetop and considered a little before answering. ‘I had an awful dream,’ she said at last. ‘About a nasty man in a high, black hat who grinned at me.’
‘How funny,’ said Moomintroll. ‘I had exactly the same dream. Had he got white gloves on, too?’
The Snork Maiden nodded, and slowly gliding through the forest they pondered this awhile. Suddenly they caught sight of the Hemulen, who was wandering along with his hands behind his back and his eyes on the ground. Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden made perfect three-point landings on either side of him and called out brightly: ‘Goodmorning!’
‘Ouch! Oh!’ gasped the Hemulen. ‘How you frightened me! You shouldn’t jump at me suddenly like that.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘Look what we’re riding on.’
‘That’s most extraordinary,’ said the Hemulen. ‘But I’m so used to your doing extraordinary things that nothing surprises me. Besides I’m feeling melancholy just now.’
‘Why is that?’ asked the Snork Maiden sympathetically. ‘On such a fine day, too.’
‘You wouldn’t understand anyway,’ said the Hemulen shaking his head.
‘We’ll try,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Have you lost a rare stamp again?’
‘On the contrary,’ answered the Hemulen, gloomily ‘I have them all: every single one. My stamp collection is complete. There is nothing missing.’
‘Well, isn’t that nice?’ said the Snork Maiden, encouragingly.
‘I said you’d never understand me, didn’t I?’ moaned the Hemulen.
Moomintroll looked anxiously at the Snork Maiden and they drew back their clouds a little out of consideration for the Hemulen’s sorrow. He wandered on and they waited respectfully for him to unburden his soul.
At last he burst out:
‘How hopeless it all is!’ And after another pause he added: ‘What’s the use? You can have my stamp collection for the next paperchase.’
‘But Hemulen!’ said the Snork Maiden, horrified, ‘that would be awful! Your stamp collection is the finest in the world!’
‘That’s just it,’ said the Hemulen in despair. ‘It’s finished. There isn’t a stamp, or an error that I haven’t collected. Not one. What shall I do now?’
‘I think I’m beginning to understand,’ said Moomintroll slowly. ‘You aren’t a collector any more, you’re only an owner, and that isn’t nearly so much fun.’
‘No,’ said the heartbroken Hemulen, ‘not nearly.’ He stopped and turned his puckered-up face towards them.
‘Dear Hemulen,’ said the Snork Maiden, taking him gently by the hand, ‘I have an idea. What about your collecting something different – something quite new?’
‘That’s an idea,’ admitted the Hemulen, but he continued to look worried because he thought he oughtn’t to look happy after such a big sorrow.
‘Butterflies for example?’ suggested Moomintroll. ‘Impossible,’ said the Hemulen and became gloomy again. ‘One of my second cousins collects them, and I can’t stand him.’
‘Film stars then?’ said the Snork Maiden.
The Hemulen only sniffed.
‘Ornaments?’ Moomintroll said hopefully. ‘They’re never finished.’
But the Hemulen pooh-poohed that too.
‘Well, then I really don’t know,’ said the Snork Maiden.
‘We’ll think of something for you,’ said Moomintroll, consolingly ‘Mother’s sure to know. By the way, have you seen the Muskrat?’
‘He’s still asleep,’ the Hemulen answered sadly ‘He says that it’s unnecessary to get up so early, and I think he’s right.’ And with that he continued his lonely wanderings, while Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden steered their clouds right up over the tree-tops and rested there, rocking slowly in the sunshine. They considered the problem of the Hemulen’s new collection.
‘What about shells?’ the Snork Maiden proposed.
‘Or rarey buttons,’ said Moomintroll.
But the warmth made them sleepy and didn’t encourage thinking, so they lay on their backs on the clouds and looked up at the spring sky where the larks were singing.
And suddenly they caught sight of the first butterfly (As everyone knows, if the first butterfly you see is yellow the summer will be a happy one. If it is white then you will just have a quiet summer. Black and brown butterflies should never be talked about – they are much too sad.)
But this butterfly was golden.
‘What can that mean?’ said Moomintroll. ‘I’ve never seen a golden butterfly before.’
‘Gold is even better than yellow,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘You wait and see!’
*
When they got home to dinner they met the Hemulen on the steps. He was beaming with happiness.
‘Well?’ said Moomintroll. ‘What is it?’
‘Nature study!’ shouted the Hemulen. ‘I shall botanize. The Snork thought of it. I shall collect the world’s finest herbarium!’ And the Hemulen spread out his skirt* to show them his first find. Among the earth and leaves lay a very small springonion.
‘Gagea lutea,’ said the Hemulen proudly. ‘Number one in the collection. A perfect specimen.’ And he went in and dumped the whole lot on the dining-table.
‘Put it in the corner, Hemul dear,’ said Moominmamma, ‘because I want to put the soup there. Is everybody in? Is the Muskrat stillsleeping?’
‘Like a pig,’ said Sniff.
‘Have you had a good time today?’ asked Moominmamma when she had filled all the plates.
‘Wonderful,’ cried the whole family.
*
Next morning when Moomintroll went to the woodshed to let out the clouds they had all disappeared; every one of them. And nobody imagined that it had anything to do with the eggshell which was once again lying in the Hobgoblin’s Hat.
Chapter two
In which Moomintroll suffers an uncomfortable change and takes his revenge on the Ant-lion,* and how Moomintroll and Snufkin go on a secret night expedition.
ONE warm summer day it was raining softly in the Valley of the Moomins, so they all decided to play hide-and-seek indoors. Sniff stood in the corner with his nose in his paws and counted up to ten before he turned round and began hunting – first in the ordinary hiding-places and then in the extraordinary ones.
Moomintroll lay under the veranda table feeling rather worried – it wasn’t a good place. Sniff w
ould be sure to lift the tablecloth, and there he would be stuck. He looked about, and then caught sight of the tall, black hat which stood in a corner. That would be a brilliant idea! Sniff would never think of looking under the hat. Moomintroll stole quietly to the corner and pulled the hat over his head. It didn’t reach further than his middle, but if he made himself very small and tucked in his tail he would be quite invisible.
He giggled to himself when he heard all the others being found, one after another. The Hemulen had obviously hidden himself under the sofa again – he could never find a better place. And now they were all running about searching for Moomintroll.
He waited until he was afraid they would get bored with the search, and then he crept out of the hat, stuck his head through the door and said: ‘Look at me!’
Sniff stared at him for a long time, then he said rather unkindly: ‘Look at yourself!’
‘Who’s that?’ whispered the Snork, but the others only shook their heads and continued to stare at Moomintroll.
Poor little chap! He had been turned into a very strange animal indeed under the Hobgoblin’s Hat. All his fat parts had become thin, and everything that was small had grown big. And the strangest thing about it was that he himself didn’t realize what was the matter.
‘I thought I’d surprise you all,’ he said taking an uncertain step forward on his long, spindly legs. ‘You’ve no idea where I’ve been!’
‘It doesn’t interest us,’ said the Snork, ‘but you’re certainly ugly enough to surprise anybody.’
‘You are unkind,’ said Moomintroll sadly. ‘I suppose you got tired of hunting. What shall we do now?’
‘First of all perhaps you should introduce yourself,’ said the Snork Maiden, stiffly. ‘We don’t know who you are, do we?’
Moomintroll looked at her incredulously, but then it dawned on him that perhaps this was a new game. He laughed delightedly and said: ‘I’m the King of California!’
‘And I’m the Snork Maiden,’ said the Snork Maiden. ‘This is my brother.’
‘I’m called Sniff,’ said Sniff.
‘I’m Snufkin,’ said Snufkin.
‘Oh, dear! How boring you all are,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Couldn’t you have thought of something more original! Now let’s go out – I think the weather’s clearing.’ And he went down the steps into the garden, followed by a rather surprised and suspicious little trio.
‘Who’s that?’ asked the Hemulen, who was sitting in front of the house counting the stamens of a sunflower.
‘It’s the King of California, I think,’ said the Snork Maiden.
‘Is he going to live here?’ asked the Hemulen.
‘That’s for Moomintroll to decide,’ said Sniff. ‘I wonder where he’s got to.’
Moomintroll laughed. ‘You really are quite funny at times,’ he said. ‘Shall we go and look for Moomintroll?’
‘Do you know him?’ asked Snufkin.
‘Ye-es,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Rather well as a matter of fact.’ He was thoroughly enjoying the new game and thought he was doing rather well at it.
‘How did you come to know him?’ asked the Snork Maiden.
‘We were born at the same time,’ said Moomintroll, still bursting with laughter. ‘But he’s an impossible fellow, you know! You simply can’t have him in the house!’
‘How dare you talk about Moomintroll like that!’ said the Snork Maiden, fiercely. ‘He’s the best Moomin in the world, and we think a great deal of him.’
This was almost too much for Moomintroll. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘Personally I think he’s an absolute pest.’
Then the Snork Maiden began to cry.
‘Go away!’ said the Snork to Moomintroll. ‘Otherwise we shall have to sit on your head.’
‘All right, all right,’ Moomintroll said, soothingly. ‘It’s only a game, isn’t it? I’m awfully glad you think so much of me.’
‘But we don’t,’ screamed Sniff, shrilly. ‘Take away this ugly king who runs down our Moomintroll.’
And they threw themselves on to poor Moomintroll. He was much too surprised to defend himself, and when he began to get angry it was too late. So when Moominmamma came out on the steps he was lying underneath a large pile of flailing paws and tails.
‘What are you doing there, children?’ she cried. ‘Stop fighting at once!’
‘They’re walloping the King of California,’ sniffed the Snork Maiden. ‘And it serves him right.’
Moomintroll crawled out of the scrum, tired out and angry.
‘Mother,’ he cried. ‘They started it. Three against one! It’s not fair!’
‘I quite agree,’ said Moominmamma seriously. ‘However, I expect you had teased them. But who are you, my little beast?’
‘Oh, please stop this awful game,’ wailed Moomintroll. ‘It isn’t funny any more. I am Moomintroll, and you are my mother. And that’s that!’
‘You aren’t Moomintroll,’ said the Snork Maiden, scornfully ‘He has beautiful little ears, but yours look like kettle-holders!’
Moomintroll felt quite confused and took hold of a pair of enormous crinkly ears. ‘But I am Moomintroll!’ he burst out in despair. ‘Don’t you believe me?’
‘Moomintroll has a nice little tail, just about the right size, but yours is like a chimney sweep’s brush,’ said the Snork.
And, oh dear, it was true! Moomintroll felt behind him with a trembling paw.
‘Your eyes are like soup-plates,’ said Sniff. ‘Moomintroll’s are small and kind!’
‘Yes, exactly,’ Snufkin agreed.
‘You are an impostor!’ decided the Hemulen.
‘Isn’t there anyone who believes me?’ Moomintroll pleaded. ‘Look carefully at me, mother. You must know your own Moomintroll.’
Moominmamma looked carefully. She looked into his frightened eyes for a very long time, and then she said quietly: ‘Yes, you are my Moomintroll.’
And at the same moment he began to change. His ears, eyes, and tail began to shrink, and his nose and tummy grew, until at last he was his old self again.
‘It’s all right now, my dear,’ said Moominmamma. ‘You see, I shall always know you whatever happens.’
*
A little later on, Moomintroll and the Snork were sitting in one of their secret hiding-places – the one under the jasmine-bush which was hidden by a curtain of green leaves.
‘Yes, but you must have done something to change you,’ the Snork was saying.
Moomintroll shook his head. ‘I didn’t notice anything unusual,’ he said. ‘And I didn’t say any dangerous words either.’
‘But perhaps you stepped into a fairy ring,’ suggested the Snork.
‘Not that I know of,’ said Moomintroll. ‘I sat the whole time under that black hat that we use as a waste-paper basket.’
‘In the hat?’ asked the Snork, suspiciously.
Moomintroll nodded, and they both thought for a long time. Then suddenly they burst out together: ‘It must be…!’ and stared at each other.
‘Come on!’ said the Snork.
*
They went on to the veranda and crept up to the hat very cautiously.
‘It looks rather ordinary,’ said the Snork. ‘Unless you consider that a top hat is always somewhat extraordinary, of course.’
‘But how can we find out if it was that?’ asked Moomintroll. ‘I’m not going to get into it again!’
‘Perhaps we could lure somebody else into it,’ suggested the Snork.
‘But that would be a low-down trick,’ said Moomintroll. ‘How should we know that he would be all right again?’
‘What about an enemy?’ suggested the Snork.
‘Hm,’ said Moomintroll. ‘Do you know of one?’
‘The Pig-Swine,’ said the Snork.
Moomintroll shook his head. ‘He’s too big.’
‘Well, the Ant-lion, then?’ the Snork suggested.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Moomintroll agreed. ‘He once pulled my mother dow
n into a hole and sprayed sand into her eyes.’
So they set out to look for the Ant-lion, and took a big jar with them. You should look for ant-lions’ holes in a sandy place, so they wandered down to the beach, and it wasn’t long before the Snork discovered a big, round hole and signalled eagerly to Moomintroll.
‘Here he is!’ whispered the Snork. ‘But how shall we lure him into the jar?’
‘Leave it to me,’ whispered Moomintroll. He took the jar and buried it in the sand a little distance away, with the opening on top. Then he said loudly: ‘They are very weak creatures these ant-lions!’ He signed to the Snork and they both looked expectantly down at the hole, but although the sand moved a bit nothing was to be seen.
‘Very weak,’ repeated Moomintroll. ‘It takes several hours for them to dig themselves down into the sand, you know!’
‘Yes, but –’ said the Snork, doubtfully.
‘It does I tell you,’ said Moomintroll, making frantic signs with his ears. ‘Several hours!’
At that moment a threatening head with staring eyes popped up from the hole in the sand.
‘Did you say weak?’ hissed the Ant-lion. ‘I can dig myself down in exactly three seconds!’
‘You should really show us how it’s done, so that we can believe such a wonderful feat is possible,’ said Moomintroll, persuasively.
‘I shall spray sand on you,’ replied the Ant-lion very crossly, ‘and when I have sprayed you down into my hole I shall gobble you up!’
‘Oh, no,’ pleaded the Snork. ‘Couldn’t you show us how to dig down backwards in three seconds instead?’
‘Do it up here so that we can see better how it’s done,’ said Moomintroll, and pointed to the spot where the jar was buried.
‘Do you think I am going to bother myself with showing tricks to babies?’ said the Ant-lion, huffily. But all the same he simply could not resist the temptation to show them how strong and quick he was, so, with scornful sniffings, he scrambled up out of his hole and asked haughtily:
‘Now, where shall I dig myself in?’
‘There,’ said Moomintroll pointing.