CHAPTER VI
A FAIRY TALE--AND THOUGHTS
"The name of the story," said Miss Lilly, "is 'A Fairy House,'" and thenshe went on to read it.
"Once upon a time there was a fairy who had done something wrong, andfor this reason had to be punished. I do not know exactly what it wasthat she had done, perhaps only something that we should scarcely thinkwrong at all, such as jumping on a mushroom before it was full grown, ordrinking too much dew out of a lily-cup, and thereby leaving the poorflower thirsty through the hot noontide. Most likely it was nothingworse than something of this kind, but still it was a fault that had tobe corrected; so the little culprit was banished to a desert part offairyland, a bleak and barren spot, which you would scarcely havethought could be found in the magic country which we always think of asso bright and beautiful.
"There she stayed with nothing to do for some time, which is about theworst punishment a fairy can have to endure. So she felt very pleasedwhen one morning there came a messenger direct from the queen, chargedto tell the little exile that she should be forgiven and released fromher banishment as soon as she should have fulfilled a task which was tobe set her. This task was to build a house, which to us may sound almostimpossible without masons and carpenters and all manner of workmen. Butfairy houses are not like ours, as you will hear.
"The messenger led the fairy to a spot on the moor where there was aheap of stones.
"'These are what you are to build with,' he said. 'As soon as the houseis completed you may send a butterfly to tell the queen, and she willthen come to test it. If it is quite perfect, you shall return at oncewith her to the court,' and so saying he fled away.
"The fairy set to work in good spirits. She had no need of mortar, orscaffolding, or tools, or anything, indeed, but her own little hands andthe stones. Nor were the stones cut evenly and regularly, as you mighthave expected. They were of all sizes and shapes, but each onlyrequired a touch from the fairy's fingers at once to fit itself into theplace which she saw it was intended for. So for some time the work wenton merrily. It was not till the house was very nearly completed that thefairy began to fear something was wrong. It lopped a little--a _very_little--to one side. But there was nothing to be done that she couldsee. So she finished it in hopes that the queen would not notice thetiny imperfection, and despatched the butterfly to announce herreadiness for her royal lady's visit.
"The queen arrived promptly,--fairy queens are never unpunctual,--and atfirst sight she smiled amiably.
"'You have worked hard,' she said to the poor fairy, who stood therehalf hopeful and half trembling. Then her Majesty stepped out of herchariot, patting her winged steeds as she passed them, and entered thenew building, followed by the little architect.
"All seemed right till they got to the second floor, when the queenstopped and looked round her sharply.
"'Something is wrong here,' she said. 'The left-hand wall is out oflevel. I suspected it downstairs, but waited to see.'
"The fairy builder looked very distressed.
"'Did you know there was anything wrong?' said the queen, more coldlythan she had yet spoken.
"'I--I was afraid it was a little crooked,' the little fairy replied,'but I hoped perhaps your Majesty would not mind it.'
"'My messenger told you that the building must be _perfect_,' repliedthe queen. 'You had all the stones, every one ready for its place. Ifyou have left one out, even the smallest, the building cannot beperfect. Ah, well, you must try again,' and so saying she left thehouse, followed by the builder. As soon as she stepped outside she wavedher wand, and in an instant the walls had fallen apart, and there wasnothing to be seen but the heap of stones as before.
"The poor little fairy sat down and cried as she saw the queen's chariotdisappear in the air.
"'I don't know what to do,' she thought. 'It would be just the samething if I set to work to build it up again. I am sure I used everystone, down to some quite tiny ones; but still it is no good cryingabout it,' and she started up, determined to try afresh.
"As she did so, a very slight sound caught her ears. Out of her pockethad rolled a very small stone, a tiny, insignificant pebble, probablysmaller than any she had used in the building.
"'That's the very pebble I found in my shoe the other day,' sheexclaimed. 'I must have picked it up with my handkerchief,' and she wasjust about to fling it away when a new idea struck her. Was it possiblethat this little atom of a stone--or rather its absence--was what hadspoilt the whole piece of work? It might be so, for had not the queensaid that the slightest little scrap of material wanting would spoil theperfection of the building.
"And, full of fresh hope, she carefully placed the little stone on thetop of the heap and began again. All went well. Deep down in thefoundations, unseen but far from unneeded, the tiny pebble found its ownplace, and before the sun set, the magic edifice stood perfect,gleaming white and fair in the radiance of the evening sky.
TOOK HER BACK TO COURT IN HER OWN CHARIOT.]
"It was without fear or misgiving this time that the fairy sent off herbutterfly messenger the next morning; and her joy was complete when thequeen not only took her back to court in her own chariot, but as a proofof her perfect restoration to favour, transported the pretty white houseby a wave of her wand to the centre of a lovely garden near her ownpalace, and gave it to the fairy as her home."
Miss Lilly stopped reading. The children looked up, pleased but a littlepuzzled.
"What a funny story," said Ferdy; "it's nice, but isn't it more what youcall a--I forget the word."
"Allegory, do you mean?" said Miss Lilly. "Well yes, perhaps. Many fairystories have a kind of meaning behind them, but I don't think this oneis difficult to guess."
"It means, I suppose," said Chrissie, "that everything is of use, if youcan find the right place for it."
"A little more than that," said Miss Lilly. "We might put it thisway--that _everybody_, even the smallest and weakest, has his or her ownplace in the house of--" and she hesitated.
"In the house of the world?" said Ferdy.
"In the house of life," said Miss Lilly after thinking a little. "Thatsays it better."
Then, seeing that Ferdy was looking rather tired, she told Chrissie torun off and get dressed for going a walk.
"I will send Flowers to sit with you," she said, as she stooped to kissthe little invalid, "and in the afternoon Chrissie and I will come backagain for an hour or so if you are not asleep."
"I won't be asleep," said Ferdy; "I have slept quite enough to last meall day. Miss Lilly--"
"What, dear?" for the boy's eyes looked as if he wanted to ask hersomething. "Would you like us to bring you in some flowers?--not gardenones, but wild ones. There are still primroses--and violets, ofcourse--in the woods."
"Yes," Ferdy replied, "I should like them _very_ much. And could you getsome moss, Miss Lilly? I would like to arrange them with moss, in thatsort of birds'-nesty-looking way."
"I know how you mean," the young lady said. "Yes, we will bring you somemoss. And, by the bye, Ferdy, if I had some wire I could show you how tomake moss baskets that last for ever so long to put flowers in. You puta little tin or cup to hold water in the middle of the basket--the mossquite hides it,--and then you can always freshen up the moss by sousingit in water."
"What a nice word 'sousing' is," said Ferdy, in his quaint old-fashionedway. "It makes you think of bathing in the sea. Miss Lilly, do you thinkI'll ever be able to bathe in the sea again? I do so love it. And thenthere's skating and cricket, and when I go to school there'll befootball. Papa was so good at football when he was at school. Iwonder--" he stopped short. "I wonder," he went on again, "if I'll everbe able for any of those things. Boys who are all right, _well_ boys,don't think of the difference being like me makes."
"No, they don't," his governess agreed. "But there is still a good longwhile before you would be going to school, Ferdy dear."
"I know," he said, though he could not keep back a little sigh. "I'veonly
been two days in bed, but I have thought such a lot. Miss Lilly,there was something I wanted to ask you. It's about that boy, JessePiggot. I was thinking about him when I was awake in the night. If youmeet him, please thank him for asking if I was better, and do you thinkmamma would let him come in one day to see me? It's partly that story,too."
Miss Lilly did not at first understand.
"The 'nallegory," said Ferdy, "about all the stones being some good."
Miss Lilly's face cleared; she looked pleased and interested.
"Oh yes," she said.
"I haven't got it straight in my head yet," said Ferdy. "I want to thinka lot more. It's partly about me myself, and partly about Jesse and boyslike him. Oh, I do wish I could be on the sofa in the window," he addedsuddenly. "I'd like to see the children going to school and comingback."
"I hope you will be on the sofa in a very few days, dear," said MissLilly. "But I must go--Chrissie will be waiting for me. I hope we shallget some nice flowers and moss, and to-morrow I will bring some wire andgreen thread that I have at home on purpose for such things."
When she had gone Flowers made her appearance. She sat down with herwork, and Ferdy lay so still, that she thought he must have fallenasleep again. But no, Ferdy was not asleep, only thinking; and to judgeby the look on his face, his thoughts were interesting.
The moss baskets proved a great success as well as a great amusement.Ferdy's nimble fingers seemed to have grown even more nimble anddelicate in touch now that he was forced to lie still. They twisted thewire into all sorts of new shapes, some quaint, some graceful, that MissLilly had never even thought of, and when some little old cups withouthandles or tiny jelly pots or tins were found to fit in, so that theflowers could have plenty of water to keep them fresh, you cannot thinkhow pretty the moss baskets looked. The children's mother was quitedelighted with one that was presented to her, and she smiled morecheerfully than she had yet done since Ferdy's accident, to see him sobusy and happy.
And time went on. It is very curious how quickly we get accustomed tothings--even to great overwhelming changes, which seem at first as ifthey must utterly upset and make an end of everything. It is a greatblessing that we _do_ get used to what _is_. When I was a little girl Iremember reading a story about the old proverb which in those days wasto be found as one of the model lines in a copy-book. This one stood forthe letter "C," and it was, "Custom commonly makes things easy."
Somehow the words fixed themselves in my memory. You don't know howoften and in what very far differing circumstances I have said them overto myself; sometimes in hopefulness, sometimes when I had to facesorrows that made me feel as if I _could_ not face them, "Customcommonly" seemed to be whispered into my ear, as if by a gentle littlefairy voice. And I found it came true, thank God! It is one of the waysin which He helps us to bear our sorrows and master our difficulties,above all, _real_ sorrows and _real_ difficulties. Fanciful ones, orfoolish ones that we make for ourselves, are often in the end thehardest to bear and to overcome.
It was so with little Ferdy and his friends. One month after that sadbirthday that had begun so brightly, no stranger suddenly visiting theWatch House would have guessed from the faces and voices of its inmateshow lately and how terribly the blow had fallen upon them. All seemedbright and cheerful, and even the boy's own countenance, though pale andthin, had a happy and peaceful expression. More than that indeed. He wasoften so merry that you could hear his laugh ringing through the houseif you were only passing up or down stairs, or standing in the hallbelow.
By this time things had settled themselves down into a regular plan. Theoriel room was now Ferdy's "drawing-room"--or drawing-room anddining-room in one, as he said himself. It was his day room, and everynight and morning his father or Thomas, the footman, carried him mostcarefully and gently from and to the invalid couch in his favouritewindow to bed, or _from_ bed in his own little room.
This was a delightful change. Ferdy declared he felt "almost quite wellagain" when the day came on which he was allowed "to go to bedproperly," and be attired nicely the next morning in a littledressing-gown made to look as like a sailor suit as possible.
His general health was good, thanks to the excellent care that was takenof him, and thanks too to his own cheerful character. There were times,of course, when he _did_ find it difficult to be bright--lovely summerafternoons when a sharp pang pierced his little heart at the sight ofthe school children racing home in their careless healthfulness, orfresh sweet mornings when he longed with a sort of thirstiness to beable to go for a walk in the woods with Christine and Miss Lilly. Butthese sad feelings did not last long, though the days went on, and stillthe doctor shook his head at the idea even of his being carried down tothe lawn and laid there, as Ferdy had begun to hope might be allowed.
The oriel window was his greatest comfort. It really was a delightfulwindow. On one side or other there was sure to be _something_ to lookat, and Ferdy was quick to find interest in everything. He loved to seethe school children, some of whom were already known to him, some whomhe learnt to know by sight from watching them pass.
But one boyish figure he missed. All this time Jesse Piggot had neverbeen seen. Miss Lilly had looked out for him, as Ferdy had asked her todo, but in vain. And it was not till within a day or two of a monthsince the accident that she heard from some of the Draymoor people thatthe boy had been taken off "on a job" by one of his rough cousins at thecolliery village.
"And no good will it do him neither," added the woman. "That's a lad asneeds putting up to no manner o' mischief, as my master says."
"Wasn't it a pity to take him away from Farmer Meare's?" Miss Lillyadded.
"They hadn't really room for him there," said the woman. "But FarmerMeare is a good man. He says he'll take the poor lad back again after abit when there'll be more work that he can do."
Miss Lilly told this over to the children the next day. Ferdy looked upwith interest in his eyes.
"I hope he will come back again soon," he said. "You know, Miss Lilly, Inever finished talking about him to you. I was thinking of him again alot yesterday; it was the birds, they _were_ chattering so when I wasalone in the afternoon. I was half asleep, I think, and hearing themreminded me in a dreamy way of birds' nests and eggs, and then, throughthat, of Jesse Piggot and what the fairy story put in my head abouthim."
"What was it?" asked Miss Lilly.
"It's rather difficult to explain," Ferdy replied. "I was thinking, yousee, that if I never get well and strong again I wouldn't seem any useto anybody. It _does_ seem as if some people were no use. And JessePiggot seems always in everybody's way, as if there was no place forhim, though quite different from me, of course, for everybody's so kindto me. And then I thought of the stones, and how they all fitted in, andI wondered what I could get to do, and I thought perhaps I might helpJesse some way."
Miss Lilly looked at Ferdy. There was a very kind light in her eyes.
"Yes, Ferdy dear," she said. "I think I understand. When Jesse comesback we must talk more about it, and perhaps we shall find out some wayof fitting him into his place. Stop dear, I think I had better look atyour knitting; you are getting it a little too tight on the needles."
Ferdy handed it to her with a little sigh. He did not care very much forknitting, and he had also a feeling that it was girls' work. But it hadbeen very difficult to find any occupation for him, as he could not goon making moss baskets always, and knitting seemed the best thing forthe moment. He was now making a sofa blanket for his mother, in stripesof different colours, and Miss Lilly and Christine were helping him withit, as it would otherwise have been too long a piece of work.
"I'm rather tired of knitting," he said, "now that I know how to do it.I liked it better at first, but there's no planning about it now."
"We must think of a change of work for you before long," said MissLilly, as she quickly finished a row so as to get the stitches ratherlooser again. "Don't do any more this morning, Ferdy. Lie still andtalk. Tell me about the birds ch
attering."
"They are so sweet and funny," said Ferdy. "Sometimes I fancy I'mgetting to know their different voices. And there's one that stands justat the corner of the window-sill outside, that I really think I coulddraw. I know the look of him so well. Or I'll tell you what," he wenton. "I could _figure_ him, I'm sure I could, better than draw him."
"_Figure_ him! what do you mean?" said Chrissie. "What funny words yousay, Ferdy."
"Do you mean modelling it?" asked Miss Lilly. "Have you ever seen anymodelling?"
"No," said Ferdy, "I don't understand."
"I mean using some soft stuff, like clay or wax, and shaping it, partlywith your fingers and partly with tools," replied Miss Lilly. "I don'tknow much about it, but I remember one of my brothers doing something ofthe kind."
Ferdy reflected.
"It does sound rather fun," he said, "but I didn't mean that. I meantcutting--with a nice sharp knife and soft wood. I am sure I could figurethings that way. I know what made me think of it. It was a story aboutthe village boys in Switzerland, who cut out things in the winterevenings."
"You mean carving," said Christine; "you shouldn't call it cutting. Yes,I've always thought it must be lovely work, but you would need to beawfully clever to do it."
"I'd like to try," said the boy. "When my sofa's put up a little higherat the back, the way Mr. Stern lets it be now, I can use my hands quitewell. You needn't be afraid I'd cut myself. Oh, it _would_ be jolly tocut out birds, and stags' heads, and things like that!"
"Stags' heads would be awfully difficult," said Christine, "because ofthe sticking-out horns--they're just like branches with lots of twigs onthem. What is it you call them, Miss Lilly?"
"Antlers, isn't that what you mean?" Miss Lilly replied. "Yes, theywould be very difficult. You would have to begin with something muchsimpler, Ferdy."
"I suppose I thought of stags because the Swiss boys in the story cutout stags' heads," said Ferdy. "I think I'd try a swallow's head. When Ishut my eyes I can see one quite plain. Miss Lilly, don't you think Imight try to _draw_ one? If I had a piece of paper and a nice pencil--"
Just then the door opened and his mother came in. Her face brightened upas soon as she caught sight of Ferdy's cheerful expression and heard hiseager tone--it was always so now. Since the accident Mrs. Ross seemed akind of mirror of her boy; if he was happy and comfortable her anxiousface grew smooth and peaceful; if he had had a bad night, or was tired,or in pain, she looked ten years older.
And Miss Lilly, who, though still quite young herself, was verythoughtful and sensible, saw this with anxiety.
"It will never do for things to go on like this," she said to herself,"the strain will break down poor Mrs. Ross. And if Ferdy is never to bequite well again, or even if it takes a long time for him to recover, itwill get worse and worse. We must try to find something for him to dothat will take him out of himself, as people say,--something that willmake him feel himself of use, poor dear, as he would like to be. Iwonder if my grandfather could speak to Mrs. Ross and make her see thatshe should try not to be always so terribly anxious."
For old Dr. Lilly was a very wise man. In his long life he had acquireda great deal of knowledge besides "book-learning"; he had learnt to readhuman beings too.
But just now Miss Lilly's thoughtful face brightened up also as Ferdy'smother came in.
"We are talking about wood-carving," she said. "I am going to ask mygrandfather about it. And Ferdy would like to prepare for it by drawinga little again--he was getting on nicely just before he was ill."
"I'd like a slate," said Ferdy, "because I could rub out so easily; onlydrawings on a slate never look pretty--white on black isn't right."
"_I_ know what," exclaimed Christine. "Mamma, do let us get Ferdy one ofthose beautiful white china slates--a big one, the same as your littleone that lies on the hall table for messages."
Ferdy's eyes sparkled with pleasure.
"That would do lovelily," he said.
So it was arranged that Christine should drive with her mother thatafternoon to the nearest town--not Whittingham, but a smaller town inanother direction, called Freston, in quest of a good-sized white chinaslate.