below the one that had already opened, were really only thinslabs joined together and forming a little door. It was like the doorsyou sometimes see in a library, which on the outside have the appearanceof a row of books.
The opening was now clear before them, and they did not hesitate to passthrough. They had to stoop a little, but once within, it was easy tostand upright, and even side by side. Alix caught hold of Rafe's hand.
"Let's keep fast hold of each other," she whispered.
For a few steps they advanced in almost total darkness, for the doorbehind them had noiselessly closed. But this was in the nature ofthings, and quite according to Alix's programme.
"I only hope," she went on, "that we haven't somehow or other got insidethe cave where the pied piper took the children. It might have anopening into England somehow, even though I think Hamelin was inGermany; but, of course, there's nothing to be frightened at, is there,Rafe?" though her own heart was beating fast.
Rafe's only answer was a sort of grunt, which expressed doubt, though wewill not say fear. Perhaps it was the safest answer he could make underthe very peculiar circumstances. But no doubt it was a great relief toboth when, before they had time really to ask themselves whether theywere frightened or not, a faint light showed itself in front of them,growing stronger and brighter as they stepped on, till at last theycould clearly make out in what sort of a place they were.
It was a short, fairly wide passage, seemingly hollowed out of theground, and built up in the same way as the wall outside into the soil--in fact it was like a small tunnel. The light was of a reddish hue, andsoon they saw the reason of this. It came from an inner room, the doorof which was half open, where a fire was brightly burning, and by thehearth sat a small figure.
The children looked at each other, then they bent forward to see more.Noiseless though they were, the little person seemed to know they werecoming. She lifted her head, and though her face was partly hidden bythe hood of the scarlet cloak which covered her almost entirely, theysaw that it was that of a very old woman.
"Welcome, my dears," she said at once. "I have been looking for youthis long time."
Her voice, though strange--in what way it was strange the children couldnot have told, for it seemed to come from far away, and yet it seemed tothem that they had often heard it before--encouraged them to stepforward.
"Good-morning," Alix began, but then she hesitated. Was it morning, orevening, or night, or what? It was difficult to believe that only a fewminutes ago they had been standing outside in the warm sunshine, withthe soft spring breeze wafting among the fresh green leaves, and thebirds singing overhead. _That_ all seemed a dream. "I beg yourpardon," the little girl began again; "I don't quite know what I shouldsay, but thank you for speaking so kindly. How did you know we werecoming?"
"I heard you," replied the old woman. "I heard your little footsteps upto the gateway yesterday, and I knew you'd come again to-day."
By this time Rafe had found his tongue too.
"Did you send the wren?" he said.
"Never mind about that just now," she answered. "I've many a messenger;and what's better still, I've quick eyes, and even quicker ears, for allthat I'm so very old. I know what you want of me, and if you're goodchildren you shall not be disappointed. I've been getting ready for youin more ways than one."
"Do you mean you've got stories to tell us?" exclaimed the childreneagerly.
"Of course," she replied, with a smile.
"I wouldn't be much good if I hadn't stories for you."
All this time, I must tell you, the old woman had been busily knitting.Her needles made a little silvery click, but there was nothing fidgetingabout this sound; now and then her words seemed to go in a sort of timewith it. What she was knitting they could not see.
Alix gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"How beautiful!" she said; "and may we come every day, and may we stayas long as we like, and will you sometimes invite us to tea, perhaps?and--"
"Alix!" said Rafe, in a tone of reproval.
"Nay, nay," said their hostess. "Let her chatter. All in good time, mylove," she added to Alix, and the click of the needles seemed to repeatthe words, "All in good time," like a little song.
Rafe's eyes, which were sometimes more observant than Alix's, as histongue did not use up so much of his attention as hers, had meanwhilebeen wandering round the room. It can, I think, be best described as avery cosy kitchen, but, unlike many kitchens, it was fresh and not theleast too hot. There was a strange, pleasant fragrance in the air thatmade one think of pine woods. Afterwards the children found out thatthis came from the fire, for it was entirely of fir-cones, of which alarge heap stood neatly stacked in one corner.
Along chain hung down the chimney, with a hook at the end, to which abright red copper pan was fastened; a little kettle of the same metalstood on the hearthstone, which was snowy white. The walls of the roomwere of rough stone, redder in colour than the wall outside, or else thefirelight made them seem so. Behind where the old woman sat hung agrass-green curtain, closely drawn; there was no lamp or candle, but thefirelight was quite enough. A wooden dresser ran along one side, and onits shelves were arranged cups and plates and jugs of the queerestshapes and colours you could imagine. I must tell you more about theselater on. There was a settle with a very curious patchwork cushion, butbesides this and the rocking-chair on which sat the old woman--I forgotto say that she was sitting on a rocking-chair--the only seats were twolittle three-legged stools. The middle of the floor was covered bymatting of a kind the children had never seen; it was shaded brown, andmade you think of a path strewn over with fallen leaves in autumn.
The old woman's kindly tone encouraged Rafe to speak in his turn.
"May I ask you one or two things," he said, "before you begin telling usthe stories?"
"As many as you like, my boy," she replied cheerfully. "I don't sayI'll answer them all--that's rather a different matter--but you can askall the same."
"It's so puzzling," said Rafe, hesitating a little. "I don't think itpuzzles Alix so much as me; she knows more about fairy things, I think.I do so want to know if you've lived here a very long time. Have youalways lived here--even when the old house was standing and there werepeople in it?"
"Never mind about always," replied the old woman. "A very, very longtime? Yes, longer than you could understand, even if I explained it!Long before the old house was pulled down? Yes, indeed, long before theold house was ever thought of! I'm the caretaker here nowadays, yousee."
"The caretaker!" Rafe repeated; "but there's no house to take care of."
"There's a great deal to take care of nevertheless," she replied."Think of all the creatures up in the garden, the birds and thebutterflies, not to speak of the flowers and the blossom. Ah, yes! wecaretakers have a busy time of it, I can tell you, little as you mightthink it. _And_ the stories--why, if I had nothing else to do, thelooking after them would keep me busy. They take a deal of tidying.You'd scarcely believe the state they come home in sometimes whenthey've been out for a ramble--all torn and jagged and draggle-tailed,or else, what's worse, dressed up in such vulgar new clothes that theirown mother, and I'm as good as their mother, would scarcely know themagain. No, no," and she shook her head, "I've no patience with suchways."
Alix looked delighted. She quite understood the old woman.
"How nicely you say it," she exclaimed. "It's like something papa toldus the other day about legends; don't you remember, Rafe?"
Rafe's slower wits were still rather perplexed, but he took thingscomfortably. Somehow he no longer remembered any more questions to ask.The old woman's bright eyes as she looked at him gave him a pleasant,contented feeling.
"Have you got a story quite ready for us?" asked Alix.
"One, two, three, four," said the old woman, counting her stitches."I'm setting it on, my dear; it'll be ready directly. But what have yougot in your basket? It's your dinner, isn't it? You must be gettinghun
gry. Wouldn't you like to eat something while the story's gettingready?"
"Are you going to _knit_ the story?" said Alix, looking very surprised.
"Oh dear no!" said the old woman, smiling. "It's only a way I have.The knitting keeps it straight, otherwise it might fly off once I've letit out. Now open your basket and let's see what you've got for yourdinner. There, set it on the table, and you may reach down plates andjugs for yourselves."
"It's nothing much," said Alix, "just