Mr. Wicker''s Window

  CHAPTER 8

  Chris returned happily to his chair and curled up in it as if he wereat home. Even Mr. Wicker's expression seemed to have changed, and as amatter of fact it had, for the relief and portion of content thatshowed now in the boy's face, was reflected in some measure in that ofthe man. Before seating himself Mr. Wicker rang a silver bell on thetray by the pitcher. In a moment Becky Boozer knocked on the door andstuck her gigantic hat through the opening.

  "You rang, sir?" she inquired, the feathers and roses bobbing ascheerily as live things around the sweeping brim.

  "I did, Becky. It occurred to me," said Mr. Wicker, looking sidewaysat Chris, "that some hot chocolate for Master Christopher and coffeefor me would not be amiss at this hour of the morning. And," he added,seeing the interested spark in the boy's eyes, "some of your deliciouslittle cakes, perhaps?"

  "Most certainly," beamed Becky, "most certainly sir. I have thechocolate hot, as it so happens, and some cakes new-baked."

  She bustled off and in no time returned with a tray of china cups,matching flowered pots for coffee and for chocolate, a bowl of sugar,and a plate piled high with cakes. From one corner Becky pulled out asmall table which she placed between the two chairs. The tray wassafely settled, the fire given a poke and a fresh log before MistressBoozer removed herself, in her starched dress and apron and heroutrageous hat, from her master's study.

  "Now," said Mr. Wicker, pouring out the steaming drinks, "we shallrefresh ourselves and you shall listen, if you will."

  Chris took a sip of the hot chocolate and a bite of golden cake,deciding that he had never tasted better. This point decided on withinhimself, he gave his attention to the man across from him.

  "I told you," Mr. Wicker said, "that I was a shipowner and a merchant.That is true. But these are troubled times. A revolution has had theland in its grasp. Times are bad, and this vast land is now convulsedwith the birth throes of democracy. Money is hard to come by, and muchneeded, for General Washington's troops were farmers called away fromtheir harvesting or sowing. The period of healing, for them and forthe land, will be long and costly."

  He paused to sip his coffee and then put the cup down.

  "Destruction is so fast, and to construct and build," Mr. Wicker said,staring at the fire, "that is what is slow." He turned to Chris."Without financial help, without money for the beginning of this newland and this new government that is struggling to be born, this freeplace and this fine democratic experiment will fail. I know a way tosave it, and you have been sent back into the past from our future--myfuture and yours, and that of the land--to help us and make it real.You will not disappoint me, Christopher?" Mr. Wicker turned burningeyes on Chris's face. "You will help your country get its start?"

  A wave of excitement such as he had never known surged over Chris andhe started to his feet, almost upsetting the table and making the cupsrattle on their saucers.

  "Oh, yes sir! You bet! If I can, I'll help!"

  Mr. Wicker's face expressed his satisfaction. He rose too and held outhis hand.

  "I knew you would," he said. "It had to be, for it could be no otherway. But there is always doubt. Your hand, my boy, for we have work todo together."

  The two hands, large and small, were firm, one in the other, and Chrisfelt a new power coming to him from the man whose hand he grasped.

  "Listen closely," Mr. Wicker said, and Chris drew nearer. "There is awondrous thing, unique in the world, and which, for the benefit ofthis growing country, we must obtain. Its possession will mean we canpay for many things--a new city here, tools; building materials. Thiswonderful object is the Jewel Tree belonging to the Princess ofChina."

  Chris waited, listening.

  "This Jewel Tree," Mr. Wicker went on, "is a tree that grows, thatputs out leaves and flowers and bears fruit, but here is the wonder ofit," and he bent his piercing eyes on Chris's intent face. "Thisgrowing tree is made of jewels; leaves and flowers and even seededfruit. The leaves are emeralds; the flowers, diamonds and sapphires;the fruits, huge rubies seeded thick with pearls. Imagine such atreasure if you can!" He spread his arms wide and Chris's eyes wereshining with excitement.

  "Imagine the possession of such a plant!" Mr. Wicker went on. "Breakoff a branch of it--another grows. And flowers and fruit--much likeyour orange trees--bear both their fruit and flowers at the sametime."

  They sat down again, the better to continue their conversation.

  "The taking of such a prize would be hard enough," Mr. Wickercontinued, "for it is well guarded. But there is a greater hazard." Herose from his chair to walk about in his nervousness and eagerness atwhat lay ahead. Then he went on.

  "There is a man here, posing as a merchant. Claggett Chew. You willsee him in the town when you walk there, which you shall do,presently. But he has some magic powers, and knows me well. Too well."Mr. Wicker shook his head and his eyes became slits of rage. "We havebeen enemies for long," said Mr. Wicker, "but he has yet to get thebetter of me."

  "Is he after the Jewel Tree too?" Chris wanted to know.

  "He is. He heard of it, by power of magic certainly, for it is asecret so well guarded that those who carry knowledge of it--all butmyself, up to this time--all others have died before they could makeuse of it. You can well imagine," Mr. Wicker enlarged, turning hisgaze on Chris, "that a treasure that replenishes itself is beyondprice. The Chinese Emperor knows it well. So do the guards about hispalaces, and so does Claggett Chew."

  Mr. Wicker strode about, striking the closed fist of one hand intothe palm of the other, and Chris scrambled out of his chair to standwatching the pacing figure. And it came to Chris as he followed withhis eyes the black swinging coat, the silver-buckled black kneebreeches, the neat white stock and black-brocaded waistcoat of themagician, it came to him that he had a great confidence and affectionfor this man. Even knowing him as little as he did, having to take somuch on trust, still, in Chris's mind there was no smallest grain ofdoubt, suspicion, or distrust. He knew, without having to think itout, that Mr. Wicker was a great man, great in knowledge and in heart.Reliable and kind and wise. In that moment Chris put his whole faithin a man he had not known yet for a day.

  "There is one way," Mr. Wicker said, wheeling about and standingstill, "and that is where I need your help." He strode back across theroom towards Chris. "This villain, Claggett Chew--for that is what heis, no better--this villain knows me and he knows my power. But if mypower were in a boy--a lad he never would suspect--then--" Mr. Wickerput both hands on Chris's shoulders and looked searchingly athim--"then only would we have an opportunity to seize the Jewel Tree.Can you learn what I know?" demanded Mr. Wicker. "Can you learn mymagic?"

  "_Magic?_" Chris stammered. "Those tricks--the fly--and others?"

  "Yes," said Mr. Wicker quietly. "Many more."

  "Well," Chris answered after a moment's thought, "I got here, didn'tI? I've gone back all these years, so I guess I could." He looked upwith a grin. "At least I can try," he said.

  Mr. Wicker gave Chris's shoulder a little shake of pride andacceptance. "Good lad!" he said. "I know that you can learn. For youit will not be hard."

  "There's just one thing," Chris said, with puzzlement in his voice."You say, sir, 'Seize the Tree.' That means just stealing it? Must wedo that?"

  Mr. Wicker looked at Chris and his face was serene and smooth with thegreat satisfaction of his feelings.

  "You are the lad for me!" he cried, and Chris felt himself coloringwith pleasure at the tone of Mr. Wicker's voice. "I knew it from thefirst! It _would_ be stealing, boy, but for one thing. When--andheaven willing, if--you reach the Tree, you will break a branch fromit and stick it in the ground. It will root itself and grow andthrive, and the Princess will still have delicate jewel flowers forher hair."

  "And now," he said, "I smell a broiling chicken. Off you go and eatyour lunch, and later we shall talk again."

  Chris went out smiling.