A Round Dozen
TOINETTE AND THE ELVES.
THE winter sun was nearing the horizon's edge. Each moment thetree-shadows grew longer in the forest; each moment the crimson light onthe upper boughs became more red and bright. It was Christmas Eve, orwould be in half an hour, when the sun should be fairly set; but it didnot feel like Christmas, for the afternoon was mild and sweet, and thewind in the leafless boughs sang, as it moved about, as though toimitate the vanished birds. Soft trills and whistles, odd little shakesand twitters,--it was astonishing what pretty noises the wind made, forit was in good humor, as winds should be on the Blessed Night; all itsstorm-tones and bass-notes were for the moment laid aside, and gently,as though hushing a baby to sleep, it cooed and rustled and brushed toand fro in the leafless woods.
Toinette stood, pitcher in hand, beside the well. "Wishing Well," thepeople called it, for they believed that if any one standing there,bowed to the East, repeated a certain rhyme and wished a wish, the wishwould certainly come true. Unluckily, nobody knew exactly what the rhymeshould be. Toinette did not; she was wishing that she did, as she stoodwith her eyes fixed on the bubbling water. How nice it would be! shethought. What beautiful things should be hers, if it were only to wishand to have! She would be beautiful, rich, good--oh, so good! Thechildren should love her dearly, and never be disagreeable. Mothershould not work so hard--they should all go back to France--which mothersaid was _si belle_. Oh, dear, how nice it would be! Meantime, the sunsank lower, and mother at home was waiting for the water, but Toinetteforgot that.
Suddenly she started. A low sound of crying met her ear, and somethinglike a tiny moan. It seemed close by, but she saw nothing.
Hastily she filled her pitcher, and turned to go. But again the soundcame, an unmistakable sob, right under her feet. Toinette stopped short.
"What _is_ the matter?" she called out bravely.
"Is anybody there; and if there is, why don't I see you?"
A third sob--and all at once, down on the ground beside her, a tinyfigure became visible, so small that Toinette had to kneel and stoop herhead to see it plainly. The figure was that of an odd little man. Hewore a garb of green, bright and glancing as the scales of a beetle. Inhis mite of a hand was a cap, out of which stuck a long-pointed feather.Two specks of tears stood on his cheeks, and he fixed on Toinette aglance so sharp and so sad, that it made her feel sorry and frightenedand confused all at once.
"Why, how funny this is!" she said, speaking to herself out loud.
"Not at all," replied the little man, in a voice as dry and crisp as thechirr of a grasshopper. "Anything but funny. I wish you wouldn't usesuch words. It hurts my feelings, Toinette."
"Do you know my name, then?" cried Toinette, astonished. "That'sstrange! But what is the matter? Why are you crying so, little man?"
"I'm not a little man. I'm an elf," responded the dry voice; "and Ithink you'd cry if you had an engagement out to tea, and found yourselfspiked on a great bayonet, so that you couldn't move an inch. Look!" Heturned a little as he spoke, and Toinette saw a long rose-thorn stickingthrough the back of the green robe. The little man could by no meansreach the thorn, and it held him fast prisoner to the place.
"Is that all? I'll take it out for you," she said.
"Be careful--oh, be careful!" entreated the little man. "This is my newdress, you know--my Christmas suit, and it's got to last a year. Ifthere is a hole in it, Peascod will tickle me, and Bean Blossom teasetill I shall wish myself dead." He stamped with vexation at the thought.
"Now, you mustn't do that," said Toinette, in a motherly tone, "elseyou'll tear it yourself, you know." She broke off the thorn as shespoke, and gently drew it out. The elf anxiously examined the stuff. Atiny puncture only was visible, and his face brightened.
"You're a good child," he said. "I'll do as much for you some day,perhaps."
"I would have come before if I had seen you," remarked Toinette,timidly. "But I didn't see you a bit."
"No, because I had my cap on," replied the elf. He placed it on his headas he spoke, and, hey, presto! nobody was there, only a voice whichlaughed and said: "Well--don't stare so. Lay your finger on me now."
"Oh!" said Toinette, with a gasp. "How wonderful! What fun it must be todo that! The children wouldn't see me. I should steal in and surprisethem; they would go on talking, and never guess that I was there! Ishould so like it! Do elves ever lend their caps to anybody? I wishyou'd lend me yours. It must be so nice to be invisible!"
"Ho!" cried the elf, appearing suddenly again. "Lend my cap, indeed!Why, it wouldn't stay on the very tip of your ear, it's so small. As fornice, that depends. Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn't. No, theonly way for mortal people to be invisible is to gather the fern-seedand put it in their shoes."
"Gather it? Where? I never saw any seed to the ferns," said Toinette,staring about her.
"Of course not--we elves take care of that," replied the little man."Nobody finds the fern-seed but ourselves. I'll tell you what, though.You were such a nice child to take out the thorn so cleverly, that I'll_give_ you a little of the seed. Then you can try the fun of beinginvisible, to your heart's content."
"Will you really? How delightful! May I have it now?"
"Bless me! do you think I carry my pocket stuffed with it?" said theelf. "Not at all. Go home, say not a word to anybody, but leave yourbedroom window open to-night, and you'll see what you'll see."
He laid his finger on his nose as he spoke, gave a jump like agrasshopper, clapping on his cap as he went, and vanished. Toinettelingered a moment, in hopes that he might come back, then took herpitcher and hurried home. The woods were very dusky by this time; but,full of her strange adventure, she did not remember to feel afraid.
"How long you have been!" said her mother. "It's late for a little maidlike you to be up. You must make better speed another time, my child."
Toinette pouted, as she was apt to do when reproved. The childrenclamored to know what had kept her, and she spoke pettishly and crossly;so that they too became cross, and presently went away into the outerkitchen to play by themselves. The children were apt to creep away whenToinette came. It made her angry and unhappy at times that they shoulddo so, but she did not realize that it was in great part her own fault,and so did not set herself to mend it.
"Tell me a 'tory," said baby Jeanneton, creeping to her knee a littlelater. But Toinette's head was full of the elf; she had no time to sparefor Jeanneton.
"Oh, not to-night!" she replied. "Ask mother to tell you one."
"Mother's busy," said Jeanneton, wistfully.
Toinette took no notice, and the little one crept away disconsolately.
Bedtime at last. Toinette set the casement open, and lay a long timewaiting and watching; then she fell asleep. She waked with a sneeze andjump, and sat up in bed. Behold, on the coverlet stood her elfin friend,with a long train of other elves beside him, all clad in the beetle-winggreen, and wearing little pointed caps! More were coming in at thewindow; outside a few were drifting about in the moon-rays, which littheir sparkling robes till they glittered like so many fire-flies. Theodd thing was, that though the caps were on, Toinette could see theelves distinctly, and this surprised her so much, that again she thoughtout loud, and said, "How funny!"
"You mean about the caps," replied her special elf, who seemed to havethe power of reading thoughts. "Yes, you can see us tonight, caps andall. Spells lose their value on Christmas Eve, always. Peascod, whereis the box? Do you still wish to try the experiment of being invisible,Toinette?"
"Oh, yes--indeed I do!"
"Very well--so let it be!"
As he spoke he beckoned, and two elves, puffing and panting like menwith a heavy load, dragged forward a droll little box about the size ofa pumpkin-seed. One of them lifted the cover.
"Pay the porter, please, ma'am," he said, giving Toinette's ear amischievous tweak with his sharp fingers.
"Hands off, you bad Peascod!" cried Toinette's elf. "This is my girl.She shan't be pinched." He dealt Pe
ascod a blow with his tiny hand as hespoke, and looked so brave and warlike that he seemed at least an inchtaller than he had before. Toinette admired him very much; and Peascodslunk away with an abashed giggle, muttering that Thistle needn't be soready with his fist.
Thistle--for thus, it seemed, Toinette's friend was named--dipped hisfingers in the box, which was full of fine brown seeds, and shook ahandful into each of Toinette's shoes, as they stood, toes together, bythe bedside.
"Now you have your wish," he said, "and can go about and do what youlike, no one seeing. The charm will end at sunset. Make the most of itwhile you can; but if you want to end it sooner, shake the seeds fromthe shoes, and then you are just as usual."
"Oh, I shan't want to," protested Toinette; "I'm sure I shan't."
"Good-by," said Thistle, with a mocking little laugh.
"Good-by, and thank you ever so much," replied Toinette.
"Good-by, good-by," replied the other elves, in shrill chorus. Theyclustered together, as if in consultation; then straight out of thewindow they flew like a swarm of gauzy-winged bees, and melted into themoonlight. Toinette jumped up and ran to watch them; but the little menwere gone--not a trace of them was to be seen; so she shut the window,went back to bed, and presently, in the midst of her amazed and excitedthoughts, fell asleep.
She waked in the morning with a queer, doubtful feeling. Had shedreamed, or had it really happened? She put on her best petticoat, andlaced her blue bodice; for she thought the mother would perhaps takethem across the wood to the little chapel for the Christmas service. Herlong hair smoothed and tied, her shoes trimly fastened, down-stairs sheran. The mother was stirring porridge over the fire. Toinette went closeto her, but she did not move or turn her head.
"How late the children are!" she said at last, lifting the boiling poton the hob. Then she went to the stair-foot, and called, "Marc,Jeanneton, Pierre, Marie! Breakfast is ready, my children. Toinette--butwhere, then, is Toinette? She is used to be down long before this."
"Toinette isn't up-stairs," said Marie, from above. "Her door is wideopen, and she isn't there."
"That is strange!" said the mother. "I have been here an hour, and shehas not passed this way since." She went to the outer door and called,"Toinette! Toinette!"--passing close to Toinette as she did so, andlooking straight at her with unseeing eyes. Toinette, half frightened,half pleased, giggled low to herself. She really was invisible then! Howstrange it seemed, and what fun it was going to be!
The children sat down to breakfast, little Jeanneton, as the youngest,saying grace. The mother distributed the hot porridge, and gave each aspoon, but she looked anxious.
"Where can Toinette have gone?" she said to herself.
Toinette was conscience-pricked. She was half inclined to dispel thecharm on the spot. But just then she caught a whisper from Pierre toMarc, which so surprised her as to put the idea out of her head.
"Perhaps a wolf has eaten her up--a great big wolf, like the 'CapuchonRouge,' you know." This was what Pierre said; and Marc answered,unfeelingly,--
"If he has, I shall ask mother to let me have her room for my own!"
Poor Toinette! her cheeks burnt and her eyes filled with tears at this.Didn't the boys love her a bit, then? Next she grew angry, and longed tobox Marc's ears, only she recollected in time that she was invisible.What a bad boy, he was! she thought.
The smoking porridge reminded her that she was hungry; so brushing awaythe tears, she slipped a spoon off the table, and whenever she found thechance, dipped it into the bowl for a mouthful. The porridge disappearedrapidly.
"I want some more," said Jeanneton.
"Bless me, how fast you have eaten!" said the mother, turning to thebowl.
This made Toinette laugh, which shook her spoon, and a drop of the hotmixture fell right on the tip of Marie's nose, as she sat with upturnedface waiting her turn for a second helping. Marie gave a little scream.
"What is it?" said the mother.
"Hot water! Right in my face!" spluttered Marie.
"Water!" cried Marc. "It's porridge."
"You spattered with your spoon. Eat more carefully, my child," said themother; and Toinette laughed again as she heard her. After all, therewas some fun in being invisible!
The morning went by. Constantly the mother went to the door, and,shading her eyes with her hand, looked out, in hopes of seeing a littlefigure come down the wood-path, for she thought, perhaps the child wentto the spring after water, and fell asleep there. The children playedhappily, meanwhile. They were used to doing without Toinette, and didnot seem to miss her, except that now and then baby Jeanneton said:"Poor Toinette gone--not here--all gone!"
"Well, what if she has?" said Marc at last, looking up from the woodencup he was carving for Marie's doll. "We can play all the better."
Marc was a bold, outspoken boy, who always told his whole mind aboutthings.
"If she were here," he went on, "she'd only scold and interfere.Toinette almost always scolds. I like to have her go away. It makes itpleasanter."
"It _is_ rather pleasanter," admitted Marie, "only I'd like her to behaving a nice time somewhere else."
"Bother about Toinette!" cried Pierre. "Let's play 'My godmother hascabbage to sell.'"
I don't think Toinette had ever felt so unhappy in her life, as when shestood by unseen, and heard the children say these words. She had nevermeant to be unkind to them, but she was quick-tempered, dreamy, wrappedup in herself. She did not like being interrupted by them, it put herout, and then she spoke sharply and was cross. She had taken it forgranted that the others must love her, by a sort of right, and theknowledge that they did not grieved her very much. Creeping away, shehid herself in the woods. It was a sparkling day, but the sun did notlook so bright as usual. Cuddled down under a rose-bush, Toinette satsobbing as if her heart would break at the recollection of the speechesshe had overheard.
By and by a little voice within her woke up and began to make itselfaudible. All of us know this little voice. We call it conscience.
"Jeanneton missed me," she thought. "And, oh dear! I pushed her awayonly last night and wouldn't tell her a story. And Marie hoped I washaving a pleasant time somewhere. I wish I hadn't slapped Marie lastFriday. And I wish I hadn't thrown Marc's ball into the fire that day Iwas angry with him. How unkind he was to say that--but I wasn't alwayskind to him. And once I said that I wished a bear would eat Pierre up.That was because he broke my cup. Oh dear, oh dear! What a bad girl I'vebeen to them all!"
"But you could be better and kinder if you tried, couldn't you?" saidthe inward voice. "I think you could." And Toinette clasped her handstight and said out loud: "I could. Yes--and I will."
The first thing to be done was to get rid of the fern-seed, which shenow regarded as a hateful thing. She untied her shoes and shook it outin the grass. It dropped, and seemed to melt into the air, for itinstantly vanished. A mischievous laugh sounded close behind, and abeetle-green coat-tail was visible, whisking under a tuft of rushes. ButToinette had had enough of the elves, and, tying her shoes, took theroad toward home, running with all her might.
"Where have you been all day, Toinette?" cried the children, as,breathless and panting, she flew in at the gate. But Toinette could notspeak. She made slowly for her mother, who stood in the doorway, flungherself into her arms, and burst into a passion of tears.
"Ma cherie, what is it, whence hast thou come?" asked the good mother,alarmed. She lifted Toinette into her arms as she spoke, and hastenedindoors. The other children followed, whispering and peeping, but themother sent them away, and, sitting down by the fire with Toinette inher lap, she rocked and hushed and comforted, as though Toinette hadbeen again a little baby. Gradually the sobs ceased. For a whileToinette lay quiet, with her head on her mother's breast. Then she wipedher wet eyes, put her arms around her mother's neck, and told her allfrom the very beginning, keeping not a single thing back. The damelistened with alarm.
"Saints protect us," she muttered. Then feeling Toin
ette's hands andhead, "Thou hast a fever," she said. "I will make thee a _tisane_, mydarling, and thou must at once go to bed." Toinette vainly protested; tobed she went, and perhaps it was the wisest thing, for the warm drinkthrew her into a long, sound sleep, and when she woke she was herselfagain, bright and well, hungry for dinner, and ready to do her usualtasks.
Herself,--but not quite the same Toinette that she had been before.Nobody changes from bad to better in a minute. It takes time for that,time and effort, and a long struggle with evil habits and tempers. Butthere is sometimes a certain minute or day in which people _begin_ tochange, and thus it was with Toinette. The fairy lesson was not lostupon her. She began to fight with herself, to watch her faults and tryto conquer them. It was hard work; often she felt discouraged, but shekept on. Week after week and month after month she grew less selfish,kinder, more obliging than she used to be. When she failed, and her oldfractious temper got the better of her, she was sorry, and begged everyone's pardon so humbly that they could not but forgive. The mother beganto think that the elves really had bewitched her child. As for thechildren, they learned to love Toinette as never before, and came to herwith all their pains and pleasures, as children should to a kind oldersister. Each fresh proof of this, every kiss from Jeanneton, everyconfidence from Marc, was a comfort to Toinette, for she never forgotChristmas Day, and felt that no trouble was too much to wipe out thatunhappy recollection. "I _think_ they like me better than they didthen," she would say; but then the thought came, "Perhaps if I wereinvisible again, if they did not know I was there, I might hearsomething to make me feel as badly as I did that morning." These sadthoughts were part of the bitter fruit of the fairy fern-seed.
So with doubts and fears the year went by, and again it was ChristmasEve. Toinette had been asleep some hours, when she was roused by asharp tapping at the window-pane. Startled and only half awake, she satup in bed, and saw by the moonlight a tiny figure outside, which sherecognized. It was Thistle, drumming with his knuckles on the glass.
"Let me in," cried the dry little voice. So Toinette opened thecasement, and Thistle flew in and perched, as before, on the coverlet.
"Merry Christmas, my girl," he said, "and a Happy New Year when itcomes! I've brought you a present;" and, dipping into a pouch tied roundhis waist, he pulled out a handful of something brown. Toinette knewwhat it was in a moment.
"Oh, no!" she cried, shrinking back. "Don't give me any fern-seeds. Theyfrighten me. I don't like them."
"Now, don't be silly," said Thistle, his voice sounding kind this time,and earnest. "It wasn't pleasant being invisible last year, but perhapsthis year it will be. Take my advice, and try it. You'll not be sorry."
"Shan't I?" said Toinette, brightening. "Very well then, I will." Sheleaned out of bed, and watched Thistle strew the fine, dust-like grainsin each shoe.
"I'll drop in to-morrow night, and just see how you like it," he said.Then, with a nod, he was gone.
The old fear came back when she woke in the morning, and she tied on hershoes with a tremble at her heart. Down-stairs she stole. The firstthing she saw was a wooden ship standing on her plate. Marc had made theship, but Toinette had no idea that it was for her.
The little ones sat round the table with their eyes on the door,watching till Toinette should come in, and be surprised.
"I wish she'd hurry," said Pierre, drumming on his bowl with a spoon.
"We all want Toinette, don't we?" said the mother, smiling as she pouredthe hot porridge.
"It will be fun to see her stare," declared Marc. "Toinette is jollywhen she stares. Her eyes look big, and her cheeks grow pink. AndreBrugen thinks his sister Aline is prettiest, but I don't. Our Toinetteis ever so pretty."
"She is ever so nice, too," said Pierre. "She's as good to play withas--as--a boy!" he finished triumphantly.
"Oh, I wish my Toinette _would_ come!" said Jeanneton.
Toinette waited no longer, but sped up-stairs with glad tears in hereyes. Two minutes, and down she came again, visible this time. Her heartwas light as a feather.
"Merry Christmas!" clamored the children. The ship was presented,Toinette was duly surprised, and so the happy day began.
That night Toinette left the window open, and lay down in her clothes;for she felt, as Thistle had been so kind, she ought to receive himpolitely. He came at midnight, and with him all the other little men ingreen.
"Well, how was it?" asked Thistle.
"Oh, I liked it this time," declared Toinette, with shining eyes. "And Ithank you so much!"
"I'm glad you did," said the elf. "And I'm glad you are thankful, for wewant you to do something for us."
"What can it be?" inquired Toinette, wondering.
"You must know," went on Thistle, "that there is no dainty in the worldwhich we elves enjoy like a bowl of fern-seed broth. But it has to becooked over a real fire, and we dare not go near fire, you know, lestour wings scorch. So we seldom get any fern-seed broth. Now,Toinette--will you make us some?"
"Indeed I will," cried Toinette, "only you must tell me how."
"It is very simple," said Peascod; "only seed and honey dew, stirredfrom left to right with a sprig of fennel. Here's the seed and thefennel, and here's the dew. Be sure and stir from the left; if youdon't, it curdles, and the flavor will be spoiled."
Down into the kitchen they went, and Toinette, moving very softly,quickened the fire, set on the smallest bowl she could find, and spreadthe doll's table with the wooden saucers which Marc had made forJeanneton to play with. Then she mixed and stirred as the elves bade,and when the soup was done, served it to them smoking hot. How theyfeasted! No bumble-bee, dipping into a flower-cup, ever sipped andtwinkled more rapturously than they.
When the last drop was eaten, they made ready to go. Each, in turn,kissed Toinette's hand, and said a little word of farewell. Thistlebrushed his feathered cap over the door-post as he passed.
"Be lucky, house," he said, "for you have received and entertained theluck-bringers. And be lucky, Toinette. Good temper _is_ good luck, andsweet words and kind looks and peace in the heart are the fairest offortunes. See that you never lose them again, my girl." With this, hetoo kissed Toinette's hand, waved his feathered cap, and--whir! they allwere gone, while Toinette, covering the fire with ashes, and puttingaside the little cups, stole up to her bed a happy child.