When the time came and the box was open once more, I duly anointed my eyes and went to the window. I knew something of what I might expect to see, but I had not realized at all how much of it there would be. In the first place there were a great many buildings, in fact a regular village, all about the little lawn on which my window looked. They were, of course, not big; perhaps three feet high was the largest size. The roofs seemed to be of tiles, the walls were white, the windows were brightly lighted, and I could see people moving about inside. But there were plenty of people outside, too—people about six inches high—walking about, standing about, talking, running, playing some game which might have been hockey. These were on levelled spaces, for the grass, neatly kept as it was, would have come half-way up their legs; and there were some driving along smooth tracks in carriages drawn by horses of the right size, which were really the most charming little animals I ever saw.
You may suppose that I should not soon have got tired of watching them and listening to the little treble buzz of voices that went on, but I was interrupted. Just in front of me I heard what I can only call a snigger. I looked down, and saw four heads supported by four pairs of elbows leaning on the window-sill and looking up at me. They belonged to four boys who were standing on the twigs of a bush that grew up against the wall, and who seemed to be very much amused. Every now and again one of them nudged another and pointed towards me; and then, for some unexplained reason, they sniggered again. I felt my ears growing warm and red.
“Well, young gentlemen,” I said, “you seem to be enjoying yourselves.” No answer. “I appear to be so fortunate as to afford you some gratification,” I went on, in my sarcastic manner. “Perhaps you would do me the honour of stepping into my poor apartment?” Again no answer, but more undisguised amusement. I was thinking out a really withering remark, when one of them said:
“Do look at his nose. I wonder if they know how ridiculous they are. I should like to talk to one of them for five minutes.”
“Well,” I said, “that can be managed very easily, and I assure you I should be equally glad of the opportunity. My remarks would deal with the subject of good manners.”
Another one spoke this time, but did not answer me. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said,“I expect they’re pretty stupid. They look it—at least this one does.”
“Can they talk?” said the third. “I’ve never heard ’em.”
“No, but you can see them moving their jaws and mouths and things. This one did just now.”
I saw how it was now, and, becoming cooler, I recognized that these youths were behaving very much as I might have done myself in the presence of someone who I was sure could neither see nor hear me. I even smiled. One of them pointed at me at once:
“Thought of a joke, I s’pose. Don’t keep it all to yourself, old chap.”
At this moment the fourth, who had not said anything so far, but seemed to have been listening, piped up: “I say! I believe I know what it is that makes that hammering noise: it’s something he has got in his clothes.”
I could not resist this. “Right again,” I said; “it’s my watch, and you’re very welcome to look at it.” And I took it out and put it on the window-sill.
An awful horror and surprise came into their faces. In a second they had dived down like so many ducks. In another second I saw them walking across the grass, and each of them threw his arms round the waist or the neck of one of the elder people who were walking about among the houses. The person so attacked pulled himself up and listened attentively to what the boy was saying. The particular one I was watching looked towards my window and then burst out laughing, slapped the boy on the back, and resumed his walk. The boy went slowly off towards one of the houses. One or two of the other “men” came and stood nearer to the window, looking up. I thought I would venture a bow, and made one rather ceremoniously. It did not produce much effect, and I could not at the moment think of anything I could do that would show them quite clearly that I saw them. They went on looking at me quietly enough, and then I heard a deep low bell, seemingly very far off, toll five times. They heard it too, turned sharply round and walked off to the houses. Soon after that the lights in the windows died down and everything became very still. I looked at my watch. It was ten o’clock.
I waited for a while to see if anything would happen, but there was nothing; so I got some books out (which took a few minutes) and before I settled down to them I thought I would just take one more look out of the window. Where were all the little houses? At the first glance I thought they had vanished, but it was not exactly so. I found I could still see the chimneys above the grass, but as I looked they too disappeared. It was done very neatly: there was no hole, the turf closed in upon the roofs as they sank down, just as if it was of india-rubber. There was not a trace left of houses or roads or playgrounds or anything.
I was strongly tempted to go out and walk over the site of the village, but I did not. For one thing I was afraid I might disturb the people of the house, and besides there was a mist coming up over the meadows which sloped away outside the garden. So I stopped where I was.
But what a very odd mist, I began to think. It was not coming in all in one piece as it should. It was more in patches or even pillars of a smoky grey which moved at different rates, some of them occasionally standing still, others even seeming to go to and fro. And now I began to hear something like a hollow whispering coming from their direction. It was not conversation, for it went on quite continuously in the same tone: it sounded more as if something was being recited. I did not like it.
Then I saw what I liked less. Seven of these pillars of mist, each about the size of a man, were standing in a row just outside the garden fence, and in each I thought I saw two dull red eyes; and the hollow whispering grew louder.
Just then I heard a noise behind me in the room, as if the fire-irons had suddenly fallen down. So they had: and the reason why they had was that an old horseshoe which was on the mantelpiece had, for no reason that I could see, tumbled over and knocked them. Something I had heard came into my mind. I took the horseshoe and laid it on the window-sill. The pillars of mist swayed and quivered as if a sudden gust of wind had struck them, and seemed all at once to go farther off; and the hollow murmur was no longer to be heard. I shut the window and went to bed. But, the last thing, I looked out once again. The meadow was clear of mist and bright beneath the light of the moon.
As I lay in bed I thought and thought over what I had seen last. I was quite sure that the pillars of mist concealed some beings who wished me no good: but why should they have any spite against me? I was also sure that they wanted to get into the house: but again, why? You may think I was slow in the wits, but I must confess that some few minutes passed before I guessed. Of course they wanted to get hold of the box with the five jars. The thought disturbed me so much that I got up, lighted a candle, and went to the cupboard to see if all was safe. Yes, the box was there, but the cupboard door, which I knew I had locked, was unfastened, and when I had to turn the key it became plain that the lock was hampered and useless. How could this have come about? Earlier in the evening it had been perfectly right, and nobody had been in the room since I locked it last.
Whoever had done it, they had made the cupboard no safe place for the box. I took it into the bedroom and after a minute’s thought cleared out a space in a suit-case which I had brought with me, locked it in that, and put the key on the ring of my watch-chain. Watch and all went under my pillow, and once more I got into bed.
THE SMALL PEOPLE
You will have made sure that the next jar I meant to try was the one for the tongue, in hopes that it would help me to speak to some of the creatures. Though I looked forward to the experiment very much, and felt somewhat restless until I had made it, I did get a good deal of amusement out of what I saw and heard the next day. The small people were not to be seen—at least not in the morning. No, I am wrong: I found a bunch of three of them—young ones—asleep in a hollow tree. They woke u
p and looked at me without much interest, and when I was withdrawing my head they blew kisses to me. I am afraid there is no doubt they did so in derision. But there were others. I passed a cottage garden in which a little dog was barking most furiously. It seemed to be barking at a clothes-line, on which, with a lot of other things, was a print dress with rather a staring pattern of flowers. The dress caught my eye, and so did something red at the top which stuck up above the line. I gave it another glance, and really I had a most dreadful shock. It was a face. I gazed at it in horror, and was just gathering my wits to run and call for help or something, when I saw that it was laughing. Then I realized that it could not be an ordinary person, hanging as it was on a thin bit of cord and blowing to and fro in the breeze. I went nearer, staring at it with all my eyes, and made out that it was the face of an old woman, very cheerful and ruddy, and, as I said, laughing and swinging to and fro. Suddenly she seemed to catch my eye and to see that I saw her, and in a flash she was off the line and round the corner of the house, nearly tumbling over the dog as she went. It rushed after her, still very angry, but soon came trotting back, rather out of breath, and that incident was over.
I walked on. Among the village people I met, there were one or two whom I didn’t think I had seen before—elderly, bright-eyed people they were—who seemed very much surprised when I said “Good morning” to them, and stopped still, looking after me, when I passed on. At last, some little way outside the village, I saw in the distance the same bright-coloured dress that had been on the clothes-line. The person who wore it was going slowly, and looking in the grass and hedges, and sometimes stooping to pick a plant, as it seemed. I quickened my pace and came up with her, and when I was just behind her, I cleared my throat rather loudly and said, “Fine day,” or words to that effect.
You should have seen her jump! I was well paid for the fright she had given me just before. However, the startled look cleared away from her face, and she drew herself up and looked at me very calmly.
“Yes,” she said, “it’s a fine day.” Then she actually blushed and went on: “I think I ought to beg your pardon for giving you such a turn just now.”
“Well,” I said, “I certainly was a good deal startled, but no harm was done. The dog took it more to heart than I did.”
She gave a short laugh. “Yes,” she said. “I hardly know why I was behaving like that. I suppose we all of us feel skittish at times.” She paused and said with some little hesitation, “You have them, I suppose?” and at the same time she rapidly touched her ears, eyes and mouth with her forefinger.
I looked at her in some doubt, for I thought, might not she be one of the unknown who wished to get hold of the Five Jars? But her eye was honest, and my instinct was to trust her: so I nodded, and put my finger on my lips.
“Of course,” she said. “Well, you are the first since I was a little thing, and that’s fourteen hundred years ago.” (You may think I opened my eyes.) “Yes, Vitalis was the last, and he lived in the villa—they called it so—down by the stream. You’ll find the place some of these days if you look. I heard talk yesterday that someone had got them, and I’m told the mist was about last night. Perhaps you saw it?”
“Yes,” I said, “I did, and I guessed what it meant.” And I told her all that had happened, and ended by asking if she could kindly advise me what to do.
She thought for a moment, and then handed me a little bunch of the leaves she held in her hand. “Four-leaved clover,” she said. “I know nothing better. Lay it on the box itself. You’ll hear of them again, be sure.”
“Who are they?” I asked in a whisper.
She shook her head. “Not allowed,” was all she would say. “I must be going”; and she was gone, sure enough. You might suppose (as I did, when I came to think of it) that my new sight ought to have been able to see what became of her. I think it would, if she had gone straight away from me; but what I believe she did was to dart round behind me and then go away in a straight line, so that I was left looking in front of me while she was travelling away behind me like a bullet from a gun. You need practice with these things, and I had only been at it a couple of days.
I turned and walked rather quickly homewards, for I thought it would be wise to protect my box as soon as possible now that I had the means. I think it was fortunate that I did.
As I opened the garden gate I saw an old woman coming down the path—an old woman very unlike the last. “Old” was not the word for her face: she might have been born before the history-books begin. As to her expression, if ever you saw a snake with red rims to its eyes and the expression of a parrot, you might have some idea of it. She was hobbling along with a stick, in quite the proper manner, but I felt certain that all that was put on, and that she could have glided as swift as an adder if she pleased. I confess I was afraid of her. I had a feeling that she knew everything and hated everybody.
“And what,” I suddenly thought, “has she been up to? If she has got at the box, where am I? and more than that, what mischief will she and her company work among the small people and the birds and beasts?” There would be no mercy for them; a glance at her eye told me that.
It was an immense relief to see that she could not possibly have got the box about her, and another relief when my eye travelled to the door of the house and I saw no fewer than three horseshoes nailed above it. I smiled to myself. Oh, how angry she looked! But she had to act her part, and with feeble curtseys and in a very small hoarse trembling voice she wished me a good day (though I noticed her pointing to the ground with her thumb as she said the words) and would be very obliged if I could tell her the right time. I was going to pull out my watch (and if I had, she would have seen a certain key we know of), when something said suddenly and clearly to my brain, “Look out,” and by good luck I heard a clock inside the house strike one before I could answer.
“Just struck one,” was my reply accordingly, and I said it as innocently as I could. She drew her breath in hard and quivered all over, and her mouth remained open like a cat’s when it is using its worst expressions, and when she eventually thanked me I leave it to you to imagine how gracefully she did it.
Well, she had no more cards to play at the moment, and no excuse for remaining. I stood my ground and watched her out of the gate. A path led down the meadow, and, much against her will no doubt, she had to keep up the pretence and toil painfully along it until she reached another hedge and could reckon on being out of my sight. After that I neither saw nor expected to see anything more of her. I went up to my room and found all safe, and laid the four-leaved clover on the box. At luncheon I took occasion to find out from the maid, without asking her in so many words, whether the old woman had been visible to her; evidently she had not: evidently also, the evil creatures were really on the track of the Five Jars, knew that I had them, and had a very fair idea of where they were kept.
However, if the maid had not seen her, the cat had, and murmured a good deal to herself, and was in a rather nervous state. She sat, with her ears turned different ways, on the window-sill, looking out, and twitching her back uncomfortably, like an old lady who feels a draught. When I was available, she came and sat on my knee (a very uncommon attention on her part) with an air half of wishing to be protected and half of undertaking to protect me.
“If there is fish to-night,” I said, “you shall have some.” But I was not yet in a position to make myself understood.
“Pussy’s been sleepin’ on your box all the afternoon, sir,” said the maid when I came in to tea. “I couldn’t get her to come off; and when I did turn her out of the room, I do believe she climbed up and got in again by the winder.”
“I don’t mind at all,” I said; “let her be there if she likes.” And indeed I felt quite grateful to the cat. I don’t know that she could have done much if there had been any attempt on the box, but I was sure her intentions were good.
There was fish that evening, and she had a good deal of it. She did not say much that I cou
ld follow, but chiefly sang songs without words.
* * * *
Not to go over the preliminaries again, I did, when the proper time came, touch my tongue with the contents of the third jar. I found that it worked in this way: I could not hear what I was saying myself, when I was talking to an animal: I only thought the remark very clearly, and then I felt my tongue and lips moving in an odd fashion, which I can’t describe. But with the small people in human shape it was different. I spoke in the ordinary way to them, and though I dare say my voice went up an octave or two, I can’t say I perceived it.
The village was there again to-night, and the life going on in it seemed much the same. I was set upon making acquaintance in a natural sort of way with the people, and as it would not do to run any risk of startling them, I just took my place near the window and made some pretence of playing Patience. I thought it likely that some of the young people would come and watch me, in spite of the fright they had had the night before. And it was not long before I heard a rustling in the shrubs under the window and voices saying:
“Is he in there? Can you see? Oh, I say, do look out: you all but had me over that time!”
They were suddenly quiet after this, and apparently one must have, very cautiously, climbed up and looked into the room. When he got down again there was a great fuss.
“No, is he really?” “What d’you say he was doing?” “What sort of charm?” “I say, d’you think we’d better get down?” “No, but what is he really doing?” “Laying out rows of flat things on the table, with marks on them.” “I don’t believe it.” “Well, you go and look yourself.” “All right, I shall.” “Yes, but, I say, do look out: suppose you get shut in and we’re late for the bell?” “Why, you fool, I shan’t go into the room, only stop on the window-sill.” “Well, I don’t know, but I do believe he saw us last night, and my father said he thought so too.” “Oh, well, he can’t move very quick, anyway, and he’s some way off the window. I shall go up.”