The Magic Nuts

  CHAPTER V

  'WHAT'S O'CLOCK?'

  'You had best come with me,' says he. .... And so they did.--_The Brown Bear._

  The first exclamation came from Leonore. It was one of disappointment.

  'Oh, Hildegarde,' she cried, 'it _is_ only a common kernel,' for nothingwas to be seen but what looked just like the browny-gray skin of theinside of a nut.

  'No,' Hildegarde replied, 'it isn't that at all'; and with her cleverlittle fingers she carefully drew out what was in reality a small sheetof thin brown paper or tissue of some curious kind, rolled into a ball,and which, when she had carefully unfolded it, was shown to have a fewlines of words stamped or impressed upon it in gilt letters.

  These were the lines. I have translated them to give the exact meaning,though as rhymes they were prettier in the original language:--

  Right behind the Castle Is hid a tiny door; This let thy comrade open-- Nuts you still have four.

  Hildegarde smoothed it out and held it for Leonore to see.

  'What can it mean?' Leonore asked breathlessly.

  'First,' said Hildegarde, 'it means that you are to crack one of yournuts too. Don't you see--it says "_thy_ comrade," and then "nuts _you_still have four." That shows that the "you" means us both together--fournuts between us. So please crack your one.'

  Leonore did so between her teeth, as her friend had done, and quite aseasily. This time there was no exclamation of disappointment, for thefirst glimpse of the contents showed something glittering, and withtrembling eagerness the little girl, breaking away still more of theshell, drew out a little ball of very fine but firm gilt thread. This,by Hildegarde's advice, she gently untwined, till she came to somethinghard in the middle. It was a small, very small, gold key, hanging on thelong gilt thread, which proved to be in a ring, with no knot or join tobe seen.

  Leonore, without speaking, glanced up at Hildegarde, who was earnestlyexamining their new discovery.

  '"Right behind the Castle,"' Hildegarde murmured to herself. 'Let mesee--yes, I think I know what it means. See, Leonore, "right behind"must be from the centre of the wall of the Castle yard down below us, Ishould say. It is easy to find, as there is a door just in the middle.Look, you can see it from here. Well, now, if one of us stands as nearthe middle as we can guess, holding the thread, and the other goesstraight on, holding the thread too, as far as it will reach, andrunning the key on as she goes, then she would get to the place that Ifancy is meant. The thread must be meant to be double, or it would notbe in a ring.'

  Leonore looked at Hildegarde admiringly.

  'Yes,' she said, 'I'm sure that's the best thing to do; anyway, we cantry. But, Hildegarde, the key is _so_ small.'

  Hildegarde examined it closely; suddenly Leonore heard a tiny click.

  'It is not so very small now,' said Hildegarde; 'see, it pulls out,' andso it did. It was now a long-stemmed, very delicately-made key, smallstill in the actual words, but quite easy to hold firmly.

  Hildegarde moved a few paces to one side.

  'I think we are about even with the centre of the Castle here,' shesaid, stopping short. 'Now, it is for you to look for the door, while Istand here holding the thread, for my rhyme says, "thy comrade," I shallstand quite still, and you walk on as straight as you can go.'

  'I am so afraid of the thread breaking,' said Leonore, taking it and thekey from Hildegarde.

  'I don't think there is any fear of that, if you handle it gently,' saidHildegarde. 'Remember, it must be some kind of a fairy thread.'

  Leonore set off, her heart beating with excitement. As she went on shefelt the thread sliding gently through her fingers, so she allowed herhold of it to slacken, while she grasped the tiny key more firmly. Itseemed to her that she had walked a good way, and she was marvelling atthe length of the thread, when she felt it tighten, and, slender as ahair though it was, pull her up with a little jerk. She stopped atonce--yes, it was at its full stretch now, and she looked around hereagerly.

  The trees were growing thicker and closer here; in front the wood seemedalmost dark, though here and there a streak of sunshine broke thegloom. But of a _door_ of any kind she could see no trace! She gazeddownwards, for she had a vague idea that it might be a trap-door in theground--a great stone with a ring in it, such as one reads of in oldstories of enchantment and magic; but no, there was nothing of the kindto be seen, and she was on the point of calling back to Hildegarde thatshe could find no trace of a door, when, lifting her eyes suddenly, shecaught sight of a gleam--a tiny spot of light--on the trunk of a tree infront of her.

  It was an old tree; the trunk was much thicker than those around it, thebark was rugged. Leonore hastened close up to it, the thread seeming tobecome elastic to allow of her doing so. To her delight, as she peeredin at the spot, she descried the outline of a very small keyhole inbright gold. She almost screamed with pleasure, and had to conquer herfirst impulse, which was to try to unlock it at once, for this wouldhave been contrary to what she and Hildegarde had planned. So she did asshe had promised, giving a soft jerk to the thread, the signal agreedupon.

  And in a minute Hildegarde was beside her, her blue eyes sparkling, herfair hair flying behind her.

  'You have found it?' she cried; and Leonore, too excited to speak,pointed to the golden rim.

  'The key,' exclaimed Hildegarde, and with careful though tremblingfingers Leonore fitted it into the lock. It turned without the slightestdifficulty, and there before them stood open a narrow entrance into whatlooked like a dark hole, about as high as the children themselves.

  Leonore was darting forwards when her friend stopped her.

  'Take out the key,' she said, 'it must not be left in the lock'; butwhen Leonore turned to obey her, lo and behold, the key was no longerthere, and the thread had slipped from the hold of both! Only a verytiny shiny ball, like a gold bead, was lying among the fir-needles attheir feet, and as Hildegarde stooped to pick it up, it seemed to sinkinto the ground, and disappeared!

  She stood up again, laughing.

  'All right,' she said, 'it has done its work.'

  Then hand-in-hand they crept through the doorway sideways, for it wasonly wide enough to admit one at a time. But no sooner were they wellwithin, the door closing of itself behind them, than they were able tostand abreast, for they found themselves in a wide passage. But beforelooking about them, Hildegarde stopped short for a moment.

  'What has become of the little brown paper?' she said. 'Perhaps therewas something else on it.'

  Leonore shook her head.

  'I don't think so,' she said. 'I looked at it well. Is it not in yourpocket?'

  No, it was not there. It had evidently disappeared, like the contents ofLeonore's own nut.

  'Then we are meant to find our own way now,' said Hildegarde cheerfully.'At present there is not much difficulty, for there is plainly only oneway to go,' and that was straight before them. The passage was dimlylighted, though how or from where they could not tell, but by degrees,as their eyes grew accustomed to the dusk, they saw that the way slopeddownwards, and was a sort of path between rows of curiously twistedpillars or columns at each side. Leonore squeezed Hildegarde's arm.

  'What are these things?' she said. 'I don't like them--they look likesnakes.'

  Her little friend laughed.

  'You silly girl,' she replied. 'Don't you see--they are the roots of thetrees. We have got right down underneath.'

  Leonore stared in wonder.

  'I thought their roots were in the _earth_,' she said.

  'Perhaps the earth doesn't go down so far as we thought,' saidHildegarde, 'or perhaps it has been cleared away here to make a path.Yes, I should think that's how it is. But you see, Leonore, if we'regetting into Fairyland we must expect to see a good many queer things,not like what we are accustomed to.'

  'Of course,' Leonore agreed, her eyes sparkling at the idea. 'I don'tthink I should really feel _surprised_ at anything. But do let us hurryon, Hildegarde.'

  They took h
ands again and ran on. It was quite easy to do so, as therewas light enough to see where they were going, and the way still slopedgently downwards. Suddenly Hildegarde stopped.

  'Hark!' she exclaimed; 'do you hear that sound, Leonore? What can itbe?' for a very soft monotonous sort of whirr was plainly to bedistinguished.

  'Can it be water?' Leonore was beginning, when Hildegarde interruptedher.

  'It is a spinning-wheel,' she whispered eagerly. 'Now, Leonore, ouradventures are really beginning.'

  Almost as she spoke, they became aware that just in front of them thepassage made a turn; and another minute brought them within sight of akind of niche at one side, within which sat a not altogether unfamiliarfigure. It was that of the old dame of the market-place at Alt. She wasspinning busily.

  The children stopped. They felt her bright eyes fixed upon them, butneither liked to speak. They waited in respectful silence.

  'Welcome,' she said at last, while a smile broke over her face. 'I havebeen expecting you.'

  They drew a little nearer.

  'Then you _are_ a fairy,' Leonore burst out, 'and it was you I heardlaugh on our way here--wasn't it?'

  'Never mind about that,' said the dame. 'Tell me what you want.'

  'Oh,' said Hildegarde softly, 'you know that better than we do. You knowall about us. We want to get to Fairyland, and you can show us the way,can you not?'

  To their disappointment and surprise, the dame shook her head. But herwords softened the disappointment a little.

  'No--not quite that,' she replied. 'Into actual Fairyland itself Icannot take or lead you. No one but yourselves can do that--and,' with alittle sigh, 'there are but few who ever really penetrate there. Itcannot be otherwise. But I can help you and show you a good deal, so donot look sad about it. There are many, many wonderful things to seebetween this and actual Fairyland.'

  At this the little girls brightened up.

  'Please tell us,' said Leonore timidly, 'do you always sit here, exceptwhen you come up to where we live? And are you always spinning?'

  The dame shook her head and smiled again.

  'No,' she replied. 'This is only one of my posts. I am here to-daybecause I expected you. And I spin when I have no other special work todo. We do not love idleness.'

  Hildegarde had moved quite close up to her.

  'What are you spinning now?' she said softly. Oh, I see--it is cobwebs,is it not?'

  'You have good eyes, my child,' said the dame; and so indeed she had,for, but for a certain glistening as the light caught the almostinvisible ball of threads, nothing could have been perceived. 'Yes, ourfairy looms use a good deal of cobweb yarn--there is nothing like it forour gossamer tissue, nothing that takes such shades of colour.'

  Leonore listened with wide-open eyes.

  'Oh,' she said beneath her breath, 'I wish I could see it--I----'

  'So you shall,' said the dame; 'that is a wish it is easy to grant'; andas she spoke she rose from her seat, giving a touch to thespinning-wheel which made it revolve with double speed, and changed thesoft whirr into a louder sound, almost like a note of music. Thechildren stared at the wheel, and in that moment of their attentionbeing distracted the old dame had vanished, and in her stead stood alovely figure, smiling down upon them.

  'Oh,' exclaimed Hildegarde, 'you are my own fairy lady. I remember younow--it was you that gave me the nuts when I was a baby.'

  'And I have dreamt of you,' added Leonore eagerly. 'And this is thegossamer--may I touch it?' she went on, softly stroking the gleaminggarment which floated round the fairy. 'I can _scarcely_ feel it.'

  'It says much for you if you feel it at all,' said the lady. 'But now,my children, if you want to see some of the things open to you to visit,you must be on your way. Go straight on till you come to a barredgate--that is one of the doors into gnomeland. Knock and say that thefairy of the spinning-wheel sent you, and asks for you courtesy andkindness.

  Leonore looked a very little frightened.

  'Is there any fear?' she began. 'Could the gnomes be vexed at ourcoming?'

  Hildegarde turned to her with a little impatience.

  'Of course not,' she said, 'if our fairy lady sends us.'

  "I MUST GIVE YOU ONE OR TWO WARNINGS."]

  'But still,' said the lady, though she smiled, 'I must give you one ortwo warnings. Gnomes are gnomes, remember--not angels, not even fairies.They are queer-tempered folk. In speaking to them you must be veryrespectful and never interrupt them. And you must never seem to pitythem in the very least; they think their underground country is far morewonderful and delightful than any other, and you must not disagree withthis opinion.'

  'No,' said Hildegarde, 'we shall be very careful. Come along, Leonore.'

  'Shall we find you here when we come back, please, dear fairy lady?'asked Leonore.

  'You will not return this way,' their friend answered. 'But you will seeme again before long--never fear.'

  She pointed towards the passage, and as she did so it seemed to thechildren that the light increased, as if her white hand had touched someunseen spring in the air. Nor did it grow dimmer again--though notvery bright, it was now twice as bright as when they first entered, onlythe colour had grown reddish; and as they walked on, they noticed thismore and more.

  'It looks like the light of a fire, of a great fire,' said Leonore.

  'Or of a great many fires,' said Hildegarde. 'I daresay it is that, forI have heard stories of the gnomes working at metals, and to do thatthey must have big fires like blacksmiths, you know.'

  'I hope it won't be very hot in their country,' said Leonore, who wasmore timid than Hildegarde.

  'It will be all right whatever it is,' replied her friend, 'otherwiseyou may be sure our fairy would not have let us come. Gnomeland is thenearest to our world of all the fairy countries--or the bordercountries, as they are, I suppose--so it is right to begin with it. Butyou needn't be frightened, Leonore. I hope we shall have lots ofadventures, now we have really got started.'

  'You are so brave,' said Leonore admiringly, 'and you seem to know somuch about fairy things. What are all the other countries, do youthink?'

  Hildegarde smiled.

  'Oh, more, far more, than we have any idea of,' she said. 'Just thinkhow many kinds of fairies we have _names_ for even. Gnomes, and pixies,and brownies, and wood-sprites, and water-sprites, and mermaids,and----'

  'I think I should like most of all to go to the sea-fairies,' saidLeonore. 'I do so love stories of mermaids, though they are nearlyalways rather sad. But oh, Hildegarde, that must be the gate intognomeland--I am so glad it does not feel any hotter; it is quite niceand cool, isn't it?'

  Just before them stood a wrought-iron gate or door; it had bars acrossand was beautifully worked in all sorts of curious patterns and designs.On the top of each gate-post sat a bird--one was like an owl, and atfirst the little girls thought it must be really alive, for its eyesseemed to blink and its feathers to move softly. And opposite it was aneagle, whose keen eyes gleamed redly, while its wings sparkled likeburnished gold. But neither was a living bird, and soon the childrendiscovered that it was only the reflection of the light on the polishedmetal that gave the look of life to the eyes and plumage. The birds wereplaced sideways as if to see both inside the gate and outwards along thepassage, and from the claw of the eagle hung a chain, ending in afawn's foot also in bronze, or some such metal.

  'That must be the gnomes' front-door bell,' said Hildegarde. 'Shall Iring it, or will you?'

  Leonore was creeping behind Hildegarde a little.

  'Oh you, please,' she replied, and Hildegarde took the fawn's foot inher hand and pulled it--gently and carefully, for she remembered thefairy's warning--and a good thing it was that she did so, for softlythough she had touched it, the result was rather startling. It rang outat once with a deep clang, which, strange to say, went sounding on andon, very loudly at first, then by degrees more faintly, till it was lostin the distance--it was as if hundreds of bells or echoes of bells hadbeen p
ulled instead of one.

  Even Hildegarde looked a little alarmed.

  'I hope they won't think us rude,' she said, 'I really scarcely----' butbefore she had time to say more, a face appeared behind the bars of thegate. It was a gnome--a regular, proper sort of gnome--about half theheight of the children, with a pointed cap and a mantle tossed over oneshoulder, a queer wrinkled-up face, a big nose, and black bead-likeeyes. He did not look particularly good-natured; he was evidently notone of the laughing order of gnomes, not at any rate at the presentmoment. But neither did he seem exactly surly; his expression was ratheras if he were waiting to see what kind of beings were these audaciousvisitors!

  But his first words were a great surprise, for instead of asking whatthey wanted, or any natural question of that kind, he tilted back hishead, so that if his peaked cap had not been firmly fitted it wouldcertainly have fallen off, and peering up into Hildegarde'sface--Leonore by this time had crept well behind her companion--saidsharply--

  'What's o'clock?'