CHAPTER VII.
BUTTERFLY-LAND.
"I'd be a butterfly."
Griselda opened her eyes.
What did she see?
The loveliest, loveliest garden that ever or never a little girl's eyessaw. As for describing it, I cannot. I must leave a good deal to yourfancy. It was just a _delicious_ garden. There was a charming mixture ofall that is needed to make a garden perfect--grass, velvety lawn rather;water, for a little brook ran tinkling in and out, playing bo-peep amongthe bushes; trees, of course, and flowers, of course, flowers of everyshade and shape. But all these beautiful things Griselda did not atfirst give as much attention to as they deserved; her eyes were sooccupied with a quite unusual sight that met them.
This was butterflies! Not that butterflies are so very uncommon; butbutterflies, as Griselda saw them, I am quite sure, children, none ofyou ever saw, or are likely to see. There were such enormous numbers ofthem, and the variety of their colours and sizes was so great. They werefluttering about everywhere; the garden seemed actually alive with them.
Griselda stood for a moment in silent delight, feasting her eyes on thelovely things before her, enjoying the delicious sunshine which kissedher poor little bare feet, and seemed to wrap her all up in its warmembrace. Then she turned to her little friend.
"Cuckoo," she said, "I thank you _so_ much. This _is_ fairyland, atlast!"
The cuckoo smiled, I was going to say, but that would be a figure ofspeech only, would it not? He shook his head gently.
"No, Griselda," he said kindly; "this is only butterfly-land."
"_Butterfly_-land!" repeated Griselda, with a little disappointment inher tone.
"Well," said the cuckoo, "it's where you were wishing to be yesterday,isn't it?"
Griselda did not particularly like these allusions to "yesterday." Shethought it would be as well to change the subject.
"It's a beautiful place, whatever it is," she said, "and I'm sure,cuckoo, I'm _very_ much obliged to you for bringing me here. Now may Irun about and look at everything? How delicious it is to feel the warmsunshine again! I didn't know how cold I was. Look, cuckoo, my toes andfingers are quite blue; they're only just beginning to come right again.I suppose the sun always shines here. How nice it must be to be abutterfly; don't you think so, cuckoo? Nothing to do but fly about."
She stopped at last, quite out of breath.
"Griselda," said the cuckoo, "if you want me to answer your questions,you must ask them one at a time. You may run about and look ateverything if you like, but you had better not be in such a hurry. Youwill make a great many mistakes if you are--you have made some already."
"How?" said Griselda.
"_Have_ the butterflies nothing to do but fly about? Watch them."
Griselda watched.
"They do seem to be doing something," she said, at last, "but I can'tthink what. They seem to be nibbling at the flowers, and then flyingaway something like bees gathering honey. _Butterflies_ don't gatherhoney, cuckoo?"
"No," said the cuckoo. "They are filling their paint-boxes."
"What _do_ you mean?" said Griselda.
"Come and see," said the cuckoo.
He flew quietly along in front of her, leading the way through theprettiest paths in all the pretty garden. The paths were arranged indifferent colours, as it were; that is to say, the flowers growing alongtheir sides were not all "mixty-maxty," but one shade after another inregular order--from the palest blush pink to the very deepest damaskcrimson; then, again, from the soft greenish blue of the small grassforget-me-not to the rich warm tinge of the brilliant cornflower._Every_ tint was there; shades, to which, though not exactly strange toher, Griselda could yet have given no name, for the daisy dew, you see,had sharpened her eyes to observe delicate variations of colour, as shehad never done before.
"How beautifully the flowers are planned," she said to the cuckoo. "Isit just to look pretty, or why?"
"It saves time," replied the cuckoo. "The fetch-and-carry butterfliesknow exactly where to go to for the tint the world-flower-painterswant."
"Who are the fetch-and-carry butterflies, and who are theworld-flower-painters?" asked Griselda.
"Wait a bit and you'll see, and use your eyes," answered the cuckoo."It'll do your tongue no harm to have a rest now and then."
Griselda thought it as well to take his advice, though not particularlyrelishing the manner in which it was given. She did use her eyes, and asshe and the cuckoo made their way along the flower alleys, she saw thatthe butterflies were never idle. They came regularly, in little partiesof twos and threes, and nibbled away, as she called it, at flowers ofthe same colour but different shades, till they had got what theywanted. Then off flew butterfly No. 1 with perhaps the palest tint ofmaize, or yellow, or lavender, whichever he was in quest of, followedby No. 2 with the next deeper shade of the same, and No. 3 bringing upthe rear.
Griselda gave a little sigh.
"What's the matter?" said the cuckoo.
"They work very hard," she replied, in a melancholy tone.
"It's a busy time of year," observed the cuckoo, drily.
After a while they came to what seemed to be a sort of centre to thegarden. It was a huge glass house, with numberless doors, in and out ofwhich butterflies were incessantly flying--reminding Griselda again ofbees and a beehive. But she made no remark till the cuckoo spoke again.
"Come in," he said.
Griselda had to stoop a good deal, but she did manage to get in withoutknocking her head or doing any damage. Inside was just a mass ofbutterflies. A confused mass it seemed at first, but after a while shesaw that it was the very reverse of confused. The butterflies were allsettled in rows on long, narrow, white tables, and before each was atiny object about the size of a flattened-out pin's head, which he wasmost carefully painting with one of his tentacles, which, from time totime, he moistened by rubbing it on the head of a butterfly waitingpatiently behind him. Behind this butterfly again stood another, whoafter a while took his place, while the first attendant flew away.
"To fill his paint-box again," remarked the cuckoo, who seemed to readGriselda's thoughts.
"But what _are_ they painting, cuckoo?" she inquired eagerly.
"All the flowers in the world," replied the cuckoo. "Autumn, winter, andspring, they're hard at work. It's only just for the three months ofsummer that the butterflies have any holiday, and then a few stray onesnow and then wander up to the world, and people talk about 'idlebutterflies'! And even then it isn't true that they are idle. They go upto take a look at the flowers, to see how their work has turned out, andmany a damaged petal they repair, or touch up a faded tint, though noone ever knows it."
"_I_ know it now," said Griselda. "I will never talk about idlebutterflies again--never. But, cuckoo, do they paint all the flowers_here_, too? What a _fearful_ lot they must have to do!"
"No," said the cuckoo; "the flowers down here are fairy flowers. Theynever fade or die, they are always just as you see them. But the coloursof your flowers are all taken from them, as you have seen. Of coursethey don't look the same up there," he went on, with a slightcontemptuous shrug of his cuckoo shoulders; "the coarse air and the uglythings about must take the bloom off. The wild flowers do the best, tomy thinking; people don't meddle with them in their stupid, clumsyway."
"But how do they get the flowers sent up to the world, cuckoo?" askedGriselda.
"They're packed up, of course, and taken up at night when all of you areasleep," said the cuckoo. "They're painted on elastic stuff, you see,which fits itself as the plant grows. Why, if your eyes were as they areusually, Griselda, you couldn't even _see_ the petals the butterfliesare painting now."
"And the packing up," said Griselda; "do the butterflies do that too?"
"No," said the cuckoo, "the fairies look after that."
"How wonderful!" exclaimed Griselda. But before the cuckoo had time tosay more a sudden tumult filled the air. It was butterfly dinner-time!
"Are
you hungry, Griselda?" said the cuckoo.
"Not so very," replied Griselda.
"It's just as well perhaps that you're not," he remarked, "for I don'tknow that you'd be much the better for dinner here."
"Why not?" inquired Griselda curiously. "What do they have for dinner?Honey? I like that very well, spread on the top of bread-and-butter, ofcourse--I don't think I should care to eat it alone."
"You won't get any honey," the cuckoo was beginning; but he wasinterrupted. Two handsome butterflies flew into the great glass hall,and making straight for the cuckoo, alighted on his shoulders. Theyfluttered about him for a minute or two, evidently rather excited aboutsomething, then flew away again, as suddenly as they had appeared.
"Those were royal messengers," said the cuckoo, turning to Griselda."They have come with a message from the king and queen to invite us toa banquet which is to be held in honour of your visit."
"What fun!" cried Griselda. "Do let's go at once, cuckoo. But, oh dearme," she went on, with a melancholy change of tone, "I was forgetting,cuckoo. I can't go to the banquet. I have nothing on but my night-gown.I never thought of it before, for I'm not a bit cold."
"Never mind," said the cuckoo, "I'll soon have that put to rights."
SHE LOOKED LIKE A FAIRY QUEEN.]
He flew off, and was back almost immediately, followed by a whole flockof butterflies. They were of a smaller kind than Griselda had hithertoseen, and they were of two colours only; half were blue, half yellow.They flew up to Griselda, who felt for a moment as if she were reallygoing to be suffocated by them, but only for a moment. There seemed agreat buzz and flutter about her, and then the butterflies set to workto _dress_ her. And how do you think they dressed her? With_themselves_! They arranged themselves all over her in the cleverestway. One set of blue ones clustered round the hem of her little whitenight-gown, making a thick "_ruche_," as it were; and then there cametwo or three thinner rows of yellow, and then blue again. Round herwaist they made the loveliest belt of mingled blue and yellow, and allover the upper part of her night-gown, in and out among the pretty whitefrills which Dorcas herself "goffered," so nicely, they made themselvesinto fantastic trimmings of every shape and kind; bows, rosettes--Icannot tell you what they did not imitate.
Perhaps the prettiest ornament of all was the coronet or wreath theymade of themselves for her head, dotting over her curly brown hair toowith butterfly spangles, which quivered like dew-drops as she movedabout. No one would have known Griselda; she looked like a fairy queen,or princess, at least, for even her little white feet had what _looked_like butterfly shoes upon them, though these, you will understand, wereonly a sort of make-believe, as, of course, the shoes were soleless.
"Now," said the cuckoo, when at last all was quiet again, and every blueand every yellow butterfly seemed settled in his place, "now, Griselda,come and look at yourself."
He led the way to a marble basin, into which fell the waters of one ofthe tinkling brooks that were to be found everywhere about the garden,and bade Griselda look into the water mirror. It danced about rather;but still she was quite able to see herself. She peered in with greatsatisfaction, turning herself round so as to see first over oneshoulder, then over the other.
"It _is_ lovely," she said at last. "But, cuckoo, I'm just thinking--howshall I possibly be able to sit down without crushing ever so many?"
"Bless you, you needn't trouble about that," said the cuckoo; "thebutterflies are quite able to take care of themselves. You don't supposeyou are the first little girl they have ever made a dress for?"
Griselda said no more, but followed the cuckoo, walking rather"gingerly," notwithstanding his assurances that the butterflies couldtake care of themselves. At last the cuckoo stopped, in front of a sortof banked-up terrace, in the centre of which grew a strange-lookingplant with large, smooth, spreading-out leaves, and on the two topmostleaves, their splendid wings glittering in the sunshine, sat twomagnificent butterflies. They were many times larger than any Griseldahad yet seen; in fact, the cuckoo himself looked rather small besidethem, and they were _so_ beautiful that Griselda felt quite over-awed.You could not have said what colour they were, for at the faintestmovement they seemed to change into new colours, each more exquisitethan the last. Perhaps I could best give you an idea of them by sayingthat they were like living rainbows.
"Are those the king and queen?" asked Griselda in a whisper.
"Yes," said the cuckoo. "Do you admire them?"
"I should rather think I did," said Griselda. "But, cuckoo, do theynever do anything but lie there in the sunshine?"
"Oh, you silly girl," exclaimed the cuckoo, "always jumping atconclusions. No, indeed, that is not how they manage things inbutterfly-land. The king and queen have worked harder than any otherbutterflies. They are chosen every now and then, out of all the others,as being the most industrious and the cleverest of all theworld-flower-painters, and then they are allowed to rest, and are fed onthe finest essences, so that they grow as splendid as you see. But evennow they are not idle; they superintend all the work that is done, andchoose all the new colours."
"Dear me!" said Griselda, under her breath, "how clever they must be."
Just then the butterfly king and queen stretched out their magnificentwings, and rose upwards, soaring proudly into the air.
"Are they going away?" said Griselda in a disappointed tone.
"Oh no," said the cuckoo; "they are welcoming you. Hold out your hands."
Griselda held out her hands, and stood gazing up into the sky. In aminute or two the royal butterflies appeared again, slowly, majesticallycircling downwards, till at length they alighted on Griselda's littlehands, the king on the right, the queen on the left, almost covering herfingers with their great dazzling wings.
"You _do_ look nice now," said the cuckoo, hopping back a few steps andlooking up at Griselda approvingly; "but it's time for the feast tobegin, as it won't do for us to be late."
The king and queen appeared to understand. They floated away fromGriselda's hands and settled themselves, this time, at one end of abeautiful little grass plot or lawn, just below the terrace where grewthe large-leaved plant. This was evidently their dining-room, for nosooner were they in their place than butterflies of every kind andcolour came pouring in, in masses, from all directions. Butterfliessmall and butterflies large; butterflies light and butterflies dark;butterflies blue, pink, crimson, green, gold-colour--_every_ colour, andfar, far more colours than you could possibly imagine.
They all settled down, round the sides of the grassy dining-table, andin another minute a number of small white butterflies appeared, carryingamong them flower petals carefully rolled up, each containing a drop ofliquid. One of these was presented to the king, and then one to thequeen, who each sniffed at their petal for an instant, and then passedit on to the butterfly next them, whereupon fresh petals were handed tothem, which they again passed on.
"What are they doing, cuckoo?" said Griselda; "that's not _eating_."
"It's their kind of eating," he replied. "They don't require any otherkind of food than a sniff of perfume; and as there are perfumesextracted from every flower in butterfly-land, and there are far moreflowers than you could count between now and Christmas, you must allowthere is plenty of variety of dishes."
"Um-m," said Griselda; "I suppose there is. But all the same, cuckoo,it's a very good thing I'm not hungry, isn't it? May I pour the scent onmy pocket-handkerchief when it comes round to me? I have my handkerchiefhere, you see. Isn't it nice that I brought it? It was under my pillow,and I wrapped it round my hand to open the shutter, for the hookscratched it once."
"You may pour one drop on your handkerchief," said the cuckoo, "but notmore. I shouldn't like the butterflies to think you greedy."
But Griselda grew very tired of the scent feast long before all thepetals had been passed round. The perfumes were very nice, certainly,but there were such quantities of them--double quantities in honour ofthe guest, of course! Griselda screwed up her ha
ndkerchief into a tightlittle ball, so that the one drop of scent should not escape from it,and then she kept sniffing at it impatiently, till at last the cuckooasked her what was the matter.
"I am so tired of the feast," she said. "Do let us do something else,cuckoo."
"It is getting rather late," said the cuckoo. "But see, Griselda, theyare going to have an air-dance now."
"What's that?" said Griselda.
"Look, and you'll see," he replied.
Flocks and flocks of butterflies were rising a short way into the air,and there arranging themselves in bands according to their colours.
"Come up on to the bank," said the cuckoo to Griselda; "you'll see thembetter."
Griselda climbed up the bank, and as from there she could look down onthe butterfly show, she saw it beautifully. The long strings ofbutterflies twisted in and out of each other in the most wonderful way,like ribbons of every hue plaiting themselves and then in an instantunplaiting themselves again. Then the king and queen placed themselvesin the centre, and round and round in moving circles twisted anduntwisted the brilliant bands of butterflies.
"It's like a kaleidoscope," said Griselda; "and now it's like thosetwisty-twirly dissolving views that papa took me to see once. It's_just_ like them. Oh, how pretty! Cuckoo, are they doing it all onpurpose to please me?"
"A good deal," said the cuckoo. "Stand up and clap your hands loud threetimes, to show them you're pleased."
Griselda obeyed. "Clap" number one--all the butterflies rose up into theair in a cloud; clap number two--they all fluttered and twirled andbuzzed about, as if in the greatest excitement; clap number three--theyall turned in Griselda's direction with a rush.
"They're going to kiss you, Griselda," cried the cuckoo.
Griselda felt her breath going. Up above her was the vast feathery cloudof butterflies, fluttering, _rushing_ down upon her.
"Cuckoo, cuckoo," she screamed, "they'll suffocate me. Oh, cuckoo!"
"Shut your eyes, and clap your hands loud, very loud," called out thecuckoo.
And just as Griselda clapped her hands, holding her precioushandkerchief between her teeth, she heard him give his usual cry,"Cuckoo, cuckoo."
_Clap_--where were they all?
Griselda opened her eyes--garden, butterflies, cuckoo, all haddisappeared. She was in bed, and Dorcas was knocking at the door withthe hot water.
"Miss Grizzel said I was to wake you at your usual time this morning,missie," she said. "I hope you don't feel too tired to get up."
"Tired! I should think not," replied Griselda. "I was awake this morningages before you, I can tell you, my dear Dorcas. Come here for a minute,Dorcas, please," she went on. "There now, sniff my handkerchief. What doyou think of that?"
"It's beautiful," said Dorcas. "It's out of the big blue chinay bottleon your auntie's table, isn't it, missie?"
"Stuff and nonsense," replied Griselda; "it's scent of my own, Dorcas.Aunt Grizzel never had any like it in her life. There now! Please giveme my slippers, I want to get up and look over my lessons for Mr.Kneebreeches before he comes. Dear me," she added to herself, as shewas putting on her slippers, "how pretty my feet did look with the bluebutterfly shoes! It was very good of the cuckoo to take me there, but Idon't think I shall ever wish to be a butterfly again, now I know howhard they work! But I'd like to do my lessons well to-day. I fancy it'llplease the dear old cuckoo."