The Wood-Pigeons and Mary

golden, sunlight yellow.Still it could be done, and though Mary's heart was beating very fast,she persevered.

  And before long she was rewarded. As the Cooies had promised, a fewminutes were enough to bring her to the end of the chilly dark path,then she saw before her, close at hand, a little white gate.

  When I say a _little_ white gate, I do not mean a low one. On thecontrary it was high, a good deal higher than the top of Mary's head,but quite narrow, and it seemed closely barred or wired, so that shecould scarcely see through it. She had not time, however, to judge asto this, for almost as soon as she came to a stop in front of it sheheard a swish and rustle in the air, and down came from she knew notwhere a whole flight, or flights of birds, in great excitement, whosettled themselves on the gate, inside and outside, so to say, as if todefend it.

  They did not chirp or chatter or even coo--"cooing" indeed would nothave seemed to suit the state they were in, though she very quickly sawthat they were all pigeons, or doves, or birds of that family, though ofvery varying sizes and colour, but so many, and all so plainly intendingto prevent her trying to open the gate that she would have been quiteafraid to try to do so. There was perfect silence, however.

  "They must be all the uncles and aunts and cousins and relations of theCooies," thought Mary. "I expect I shall have to go home, after all,without seeing the secret of the forest, as they certainly don't seem towant to let me pass in." She was again mistaken.

  Another little rustle in the air, quite a tiny one this time, and Maryfelt something alight on each of her shoulders. She glanced up--yes, itwas her own friends.

  "Coo-coo," they whispered to her. Then one of them or both--she wasoften not sure if only one, or the two together, were speaking--turnedto the mass of birds clinging to the gate.

  "How inhospitable you are!" they said. "What a welcome to a friend!Don't you see she _is_ a friend? She has the Queen's feather, and shehas learnt our language," and then Mary felt that all the pairs of eyesof all the many birds were looking at her, and scarcely knowing that shedid so, she raised her hand to her head, and touched the little greyfeather nestling in her cap.

  Instantly there came another flutter, and in the twinkling of an eye thegate was cleared. Still more, in some way which she could not see, itwas opened, or opened itself, dividing, narrow though it was, in themiddle, and the birds, as if by magic, arranged themselves in two longrows on each side, seeming to mark a path for her to step along, for ofactual path there was none. Inside the gate there was just the verysoftest, shortest, greenest grass you could imagine, like lovely springyvelvet or plush to walk on, and Mary stepped forward, feeling as if eachtime she put down her foot a sort of pleasure came through it.

  Just at first, she scarcely took in all the wonderful things that hadhappened since she passed through the white gate. The rows of birdsmade her feel a little shy, for she saw that all their round eyes werefixed on her. But by degrees she began to notice everything moreclosely.

  She seemed still to hear a sort of flutter and rustle that kept onsteadily, and yet the birds were quite motionless--those in front ofher, that is to say, but after a moment or two she turned round to seeif she could find out the cause of the sounds she heard, and then shediscovered that as soon as she had passed, the birds rose in couples andflew off, as if to say, "we have received her politely, and now we haveother things to attend to."

  On the whole Mary was rather glad of this. The numbers of birds madeher, as I have said, feel rather shy and confused.

  "I only want my own Cooies," she thought, "and not all their uncles andaunts and cousins," and she glanced forward again, trying to see howmany more she would have to pass, and at that moment, to her greatdelight, she caught sight of something she had not seen before.

  Right in front of her was another gate, but this time it was quite a lowone, she could almost have jumped over it, she fancied, and it was notwhite, but green--grass green, which was perhaps the reason she had notseen it till she was quite near it. And the rows of birds stopped onthis side of it, and, best of all, her Cooies flew down from hershoulders and perched themselves on the gate, which opened as the otherhad done, for her to pass through, the last of the stranger birdsfluttering off as she did so, leaving her alone with her own twofriends.

  "Oh, I'm so glad they've all gone except you two," she said, with alittle sigh of satisfaction. "What quantities of relations you have,Cooies! Do you know, they made me feel quite giddy? I shall have youall to myself now, and you can explain everything to me, and show me allover this beautiful place."

  "Suppose you sit down and rest for a few minutes first," said Mr Coo.His manners became doubly polite and kind, now that Mary was his guest."You have walked a good way, farther than you think, and you can see agreat many things you may like to ask about, from where you are."

  "Where," began Mary, "where shall I sit down?" she was going to say, butbefore she got further she found this was a question she did not need toask, for just at one side of where she was standing she caught sight ofthe dearest and queerest arm-chair you ever saw. It was made of moss,or at least covered in moss, green and fresh, but not at alldamp-looking. Nor was it so; on the contrary it was deliciously dry andspringy.

  Mary seated herself with great satisfaction, and the Cooies settledthemselves on each arm of her chair and looked at her, their heads wellon one side, which she had come to know meant that they were in highgood humour.

  Then she gazed about her.

  She seemed to be in a very, very large bower, all carpeted with the samelovely short grass that she had noticed on first entering, and withsmaller bowers opening, like cloisters, on all sides. Up above, it wasvery high, so high that she could not clearly see if there was any kindof roof or ceiling, or only the interlacing branches of the great talltrees meeting overhead. These trees walled it all in very thickly, itwas easy to see, and thus made the dark, almost black look which thisinnermost spot of the forest had when seen from the outside.

  But indeed everything was different from what Mary could have had anyexpectation of.

  To begin with, the air was deliciously mild and warm, though not toohot, or with the shut-in feeling of a conservatory. On the contrary,little breezes were fluttering about, bearing the sweet fresh scents ofa garden in late spring or early summer. And the light?

  Where did it come from?

  Mary gazed about for a minute or two before she spoke. She felt contentfor a little just to sit and look, and then she was rather afraid ofasking any "silly" questions, for she had found out that the Cooies werefar cleverer than any one could have imagined, which she explained toher own satisfaction by deciding that they were half, if not whole,fairies!

  And this she felt more sure of than ever before, now that she had beenled by them into this wonderful bower.

  But where did the light come from?

  It did not seem like sunshine; it was almost too soft and mellow, andyet it was certainly not moonlight, which is always cold and thin. Itwas more like sunshine coming through some gently tinted glass, or evensilk, but it was _different_ from any light that Mary could liken it to,in her own mind. So this seemed a sensible question to ask.

  "Cooies, dear," she began, "I do feel so happy, and I do thank you forhaving brought me here to this lovely place. I really feel as if Inever wanted to go away. But--it is very, very strange. My head isfull of puzzles. And you did say I might ask questions?"

  "Certainly," Mr Coo replied, "ask any you like, though you mustunderstand that we cannot promise you answers to all. Or at least notthe kind of answers you want, exactly."

  Mary nodded her head. A feeling came over her that perhaps she wouldnot really want answers to all, that it might spoil the nice part of thepuzzles. Still, some things she did want to know.

  "Then, first of all," she said, "where does the light come from? It isso beautifully clear and yet so soft I have never seen any light quitelike it."

  "No," said Mr Coo. "I don't suppose you ever have,"
and Mrs Coomurmured something which sounded like, "How could she?"

  "And," Mr Coo continued, "I am sorry to say that your very firstquestion is one which it is impossible for me to answer in any way whichit would be possible for you to understand. I can only _half_ do so, byasking _you_ a question. Have you never heard or read that infairy-land, real fairy-land, no mortal among the very few who have everfound their way there could tell how it was lighted?"

  And as he said this, Mr Coo held his head further on one side than Maryhad ever yet seen it.

  She gave a little jump; she almost thought she would like to clap herhands.

  "Oh, Cooie, dear," she cried, "that is much nicer than any explanation!Do you really mean that--"

  "Sh--softly, please," he said. "I don't