The Enchanted Castle

  CHAPTER III

  THOSE of my readers who have gone about much with an invisible companionwill not need to be told how awkward the whole business is. For onething, however much you may have been convinced that your companion _is_invisible, you will, I feel sure, have found yourself every now and thensaying, "This _must_ be a dream!" or "I _know_ I shall wake up in half asec!" And this was the case with Gerald, Kathleen, and Jimmy as they satin the white marble Temple of Flora, looking out through its arches atthe sunshiny park and listening to the voice of the enchanted Princess,who really was not a Princess at all, but just the housekeeper's niece,Mabel Prowse; though, as Jimmy said, "she was enchanted, right enough."

  "It's no use talking," she said again and again, and the voice came froman empty-looking space between two pillars; "I never believed anythingwould happen, and now it has."

  "Well," said Gerald kindly, "can we do anything for you? Because, ifnot, I think we ought to be going."

  "Yes," said Jimmy; "I _do_ want my tea!"

  "Tea!" said the unseen Mabel scornfully. "Do you mean to say you'd gooff to your teas and leave me after getting me into this mess?"

  "Well, of all the unfair Princesses I ever met!" Gerald began. ButKathleen interrupted.

  "Oh, don't rag her," she said. "Think how horrid it must be to beinvisible!"

  "I don't think," said the hidden Mabel, "that my aunt likes me very muchas it is. She wouldn't let me go to the fair because I'd forgotten toput back some old trumpery shoe that Queen Elizabeth wore--I got it outfrom the glass case to try it on."

  "Did it fit?" asked Kathleen, with interest.

  "Not it--much too small," said Mabel. "I don't believe it ever fittedany one."

  "I do want my tea!" said Jimmy.

  "I do really think perhaps we ought to go," said Gerald. "You see, itisn't as if we could do anything for you."

  "You'll have to tell your aunt," said Kathleen kindly.

  "No, no, no!" moaned Mabel invisibly; "take me with you. I'll leave hera note to say I've run away to sea."

  "Girls don't run away to sea."

  "They might," said the stone floor between the pillars, "as stowaways,if nobody wanted a cabin boy--cabin girl, I mean."

  "I'm sure you oughtn't," said Kathleen firmly.

  "Well, what _am_ I to do?"

  "Really," said Gerald, "I don't know what the girl _can_ do. Let hercome home with us and have----"

  "Tea--oh, yes," said Jimmy, jumping up.

  "And have a good council."

  "After tea," said Jimmy.

  "But her aunt'll find she's gone."

  "So she would if I stayed."

  "Oh, come on," said Jimmy.

  "But the aunt'll think something's happened to her."

  "So it has."

  "And she'll tell the police, and they'll look everywhere for me."

  "They'll never find you," said Gerald. "Talk of impenetrable disguises!"

  "I'm sure," said Mabel, "aunt would much rather never see me again thansee me like this. She'd never get over it; it might kill her--she hasspasms as it is. I'll write to her, and we'll put it in the bigletter-box at the gate as we go out. Has any one got a bit of pencil anda scrap of paper?"

  Gerald had a note-book, with leaves of the shiny kind which you have towrite on, not with a blacklead pencil, but with an ivory thing with apoint of real lead. And it won't write on any other paper except thekind that is in the book, and this is often very annoying when you arein a hurry. Then was seen the strange spectacle of a little ivory stick,with a leaden point, standing up at an odd, impossible-looking slant,and moving along all by itself as ordinary pencils do when you arewriting with them.

  "May we look over?" asked Kathleen.

  There was no answer. The pencil went on writing.

  "Mayn't we look over?" Kathleen said again.

  "Of course you may!" said the voice near the paper. "I nodded, didn't I?Oh, I forgot, my nodding's invisible too."

  The pencil was forming round, clear letters on the page torn out of thenote-book. This is what it wrote:--

  "DEAR AUNT,--

  "I am afraid you will not see me again for some time. A lady in a motor-car has adopted me, and we are going straight to the coast and then in a ship. It is useless to try to follow me. Farewell, and may you be happy. I hope you enjoyed the fair.

  "MABEL."

  "But that's all lies," said Jimmy bluntly.

  "No, it isn't; it's fancy," said Mabel. "If I said I've becomeinvisible, she'd think that was a lie, anyhow."

  "Oh, _come_ along," said Jimmy; "you can quarrel just as well walking."

  Gerald folded up the note as a lady in India had taught him to do yearsbefore, and Mabel led them by another and very much nearer way out ofthe park. And the walk home was a great deal shorter, too, than the walkout had been.

  The sky had clouded over while they were in the Temple of Flora, and thefirst spots of rain fell as they got back to the house, very late indeedfor tea.

  Mademoiselle was looking out of the window, and came herself to open thedoor.

  "But it is that you are in lateness, in lateness!" she cried. "You havehad a misfortune--no? All goes well?"

  "We are very sorry indeed," said Gerald. "It took us longer to get homethan we expected. I do hope you haven't been anxious. I have beenthinking about you most of the way home."

  "Go, then," said the French lady, smiling; "you shall have them in thesame time--the tea and the supper."

  Which they did.

  "How _could_ you say you were thinking about her all the time?" said avoice just by Gerald's ear, when Mademoiselle had left them alone withthe bread and butter and milk and baked apples. "It was just as much alie as me being adopted by a motor lady."

  "No, it wasn't," said Gerald, through bread and butter. "I _was_thinking about whether she'd be in a wax or not. So there!"

  IT WAS RATHER HORRID TO SEE THE BREAD AND BUTTER WAVINGABOUT IN THE AIR.]

  There were only three plates, but Jimmy let Mabel have his, and sharedwith Kathleen. It was rather horrid to see the bread and butter wavingabout in the air, and bite after bite disappearing from it apparently byno human agency; and the spoon rising with apple in it and returning tothe plate empty. Even the tip of the spoon disappeared as long as it wasin Mabel's unseen mouth; so that at times it looked as though its bowlhad been broken off.

  Every one was very hungry, and more bread and butter had to be fetched.Cook grumbled when the plate was filled for the third time.

  "I tell you what," said Jimmy; "I did want my tea."

  "I tell _you_ what," said Gerald; "it'll be jolly difficult to giveMabel any breakfast. Mademoiselle will be here then. She'd have a fit ifshe saw bits of forks with bacon on them vanishing, and then the forkscoming back out of vanishment, and the bacon lost for ever."

  "We shall have to buy things to eat and feed our poor captive insecret," said Kathleen.

  "Our money won't last long," said Jimmy, in gloom. "Have _you_ got anymoney?"

  He turned to where a mug of milk was suspended in the air withoutvisible means of support.

  "I've not got much money," was the reply from near the milk, "but I'vegot heaps of ideas."

  "We must talk about everything in the morning," said Kathleen. "We mustjust say good-night to Mademoiselle, and then you shall sleep in my bed,Mabel. I'll lend you one of my nightgowns."

  "I'll get my own to-morrow," said Mabel cheerfully.

  "You'll go back to get things?"

  "Why not? Nobody can see me. I think I begin to see all sorts of amusingthings coming along. It's not half bad being invisible."

  It was extremely odd, Kathleen thought, to see the Princess's clothescoming out of nothing. First the gauzy veil appeared hanging in the air.Then the sparkling coronet suddenly showed on the top of the chest ofdrawers. Then a sleeve of the pinky gown showed, then another, and thenthe whole gown lay
on the floor in a glistening ring as the unseen legsof Mabel stepped out of it. For each article of clothing became visibleas Mabel took it off. The nightgown, lifted from the bed, disappeared abit at a time.

  "Get into bed," said Kathleen, rather nervously.

  The bed creaked and a hollow appeared in the pillow. Kathleen put outthe gas and got into bed; all this magic had been rather upsetting, andshe was just the least bit frightened, but in the dark she found it wasnot so bad. Mabel's arms went round her neck the moment she got intobed, and the two little girls kissed in the kind darkness, where thevisible and the invisible could meet on equal terms.

  "Good-night," said Mabel. "You're a darling, Cathy; you've been mostawfully good to me, and I sha'n't forget it. I didn't like to say sobefore the boys, because I know boys think you're a muff if you'regrateful. But I _am_. Good-night."

  Kathleen lay awake for some time. She was just getting sleepy when sheremembered that the maid who would call them in the morning would seethose wonderful Princess clothes.

  "I'll have to get up and hide them," she said. "What a bother!"

  And as she lay thinking what a bother it was she happened to fallasleep, and when she woke again it was bright morning, and Eliza wasstanding in front of the chair where Mabel's clothes lay, gazing at thepink Princess-frock that lay on the top of her heap and saying, "Law!"

  "Oh, don't touch, _please_!" Kathleen leaped out of bed as Eliza wasreaching out her hand.

  "Where on earth did you get hold of that?"

  "We're going to use it for acting," said Kathleen, on the desperateinspiration of the moment. "It's lent me for that."

  "You might show _me_, miss," suggested Eliza.

  "Oh, please not!" said Kathleen, standing in front of the chair in hernightgown. "You shall see us act when we are dressed up. There! And youwon't tell any one, will you?"

  "Not if you're a good little girl," said Eliza. "But you be sure to letme see when you _do_ dress up. But where----"

  Here a bell rang and Eliza had to go, for it was the postman, and sheparticularly wanted to see him.

  "And now," said Kathleen, pulling on her first stocking, "we shall haveto _do_ the acting. Everything seems very difficult."

  "Acting isn't," said Mabel; and an unsupported stocking waved in the airand quickly vanished. "I shall love it."

  "You forget," said Kathleen gently, "invisible actresses can't take partin plays unless they're magic ones."

  "Oh," cried a voice from under a petticoat that hung in the air, "I'vegot _such_ an idea!"

  "Tell it us after breakfast," said Kathleen, as the water in the basinbegan to splash about and to drip from nowhere back into itself. "Andoh! I do wish you hadn't written such whoppers to your aunt. I'm sure weoughtn't to tell lies for anything."

  "What's the use of telling the truth if nobody believes you?" came fromamong the splashes.

  "I don't know," said Kathleen, "but I'm sure we ought to tell thetruth."

  "_You_ can, if you like," said a voice from the folds of a towel thatwaved lonely in front of the wash-hand stand.

  "All right. We will, then, first thing after brek--_your_ brek, I mean.You'll have to wait up here till we can collar something and bring itup to you. Mind you dodge Eliza when she comes to make the bed."

  The invisible Mabel found this a fairly amusing game; she furtherenlivened it by twitching out the corners of tucked-up sheets andblankets when Eliza wasn't looking.

  "Drat the clothes!" said Eliza; "anyone ud think the things wasbewitched."

  She looked about for the wonderful Princess clothes she had glimpsedearlier in the morning. But Kathleen had hidden them in a perfectly safeplace under the mattress, which she knew Eliza never turned.

  Eliza hastily brushed up from the floor those bits of fluff which comefrom goodness knows where in the best regulated houses. Mabel, veryhungry and exasperated at the long absence of the others at theirbreakfast, could not forbear to whisper suddenly in Eliza's ear:--

  "Always sweep under the mats."

  The maid started and turned pale. "I must be going silly," she murmured;"though it's just what mother always used to say. Hope I ain't goingdotty, like Aunt Emily. Wonderful what you can fancy, ain't it?"

  She took up the hearth-rug all the same, swept under it, and under thefender. So thorough was she, and so pale, that Kathleen, entering with achunk of bread raided by Gerald from the pantry window, exclaimed:--

  "Not done yet. I say, Eliza, you do look ill! What's the matter?"

  "I thought I'd give the room a good turn-out," said Eliza, still verypale.

  "Nothing's happened to upset you?" Kathleen asked. She had her ownprivate fears.

  "Nothing only my fancy, miss," said Eliza. "I always was fanciful from achild--dreaming of the pearly gates and them little angels with nothingon only their heads and wings--so cheap to dress, I always think,compared with children."

  When she was got rid of, Mabel ate the bread and drank water from thetooth-mug.

  "I'm afraid it tastes of cherry tooth-paste rather," said Kathleenapologetically.

  "It doesn't matter," a voice replied from the tilted mug; "it's moreinteresting than water. I should think red wine in ballads was ratherlike this."

  "We've got leave for the day again," said Kathleen, when the last bit ofbread had vanished, "and Gerald feels like I do about lies. So we'regoing to tell your aunt where you really are."

  "She won't believe you."

  "That doesn't matter, if we speak the truth," said Kathleen primly.

  "I expect you'll be sorry for it," said Mabel; "but come on--and, I say,do be careful not to shut me in the door as you go out. You nearly didjust now."

  In the blazing sunlight that flooded the High Street four shadows tothree children seemed dangerously noticeable. A butcher's boy looked fartoo earnestly at the extra shadow, and his big, liver-coloured lurchersnuffed at the legs of that shadow's mistress and whined uncomfortably.

  "Get behind me," said Kathleen; "then our two shadows will look likeone."

  But Mabel's shadow, very visible, fell on Kathleen's back, and theostler of the Davenant Arms looked up to see what big bird had cast thatbig shadow.

  A woman driving a cart with chickens and ducks in it called out:--

  "Halloa, missy, ain't you blacked yer back neither! What you beenleaning up against?"

  Every one was glad when they got out of the town.

  Speaking the truth to Mabel's aunt did not turn out at all as anyone--even Mabel--expected. The aunt was discovered reading a pinknovelette at the window of the housekeeper's room, which, framed inclematis and green creepers, looked out on a nice little courtyard towhich Mabel led the party.

  "Excuse me," said Gerald, "but I believe you've lost your niece?"

  "Not lost, my boy," said the aunt, who was spare and tall, with a drabfringe and a very genteel voice.

  "We could tell you something about her," said Gerald.

  "HALLOA, MISSY, AIN'T YOU BLACKED YER BACK, NEITHER!"]

  "Now," replied the aunt, in a warning voice, "no complaints, please. Myniece has gone, and I am sure no one thinks less than I do of her littlepranks. If she's played any tricks on you it's only her light-heartedway. Go away, children, I'm busy."

  "Did you get her note?" asked Kathleen.

  The aunt showed rather more interest than before, but she still kept herfinger in the novelette.

  "Oh," she said, "so you witnessed her departure? Did she seem glad togo?"

  "Quite," said Gerald truthfully.

  "Then I can only be glad that she is provided for," said the aunt. "Idare say you were surprised. These romantic adventures do occur in ourfamily. Lord Yalding selected me out of eleven applicants for the postof housekeeper here. I've not the slightest doubt the child was changedat birth and her rich relatives have claimed her."

  "But aren't you going to do anything--tell the police, or----"

  "Shish!" said Mabel.

  "_I_ won't shish," said Jimmy. "Your Mabel's invi
sible--that's all itis. She's just beside me now."

  "I detest untruthfulness," said the aunt severely, "in all its forms.Will you kindly take that little boy away? I am quite satisfied aboutMabel."

  "_Well_," said Gerald, "you _are_ an aunt and no mistake! But what willMabel's father and mother say?"

  "Mabel's father and mother are dead," said the aunt calmly, and a littlesob sounded close to Gerald's ear.

  "All right," he said, "we'll be off. But don't you go saying we didn'ttell you the truth, that's all."

  "You have told me nothing," said the aunt, "none of you, except thatlittle boy, who has told me a silly falsehood."

  "We meant well," said Gerald gently. "You don't mind our having comethrough the grounds, do you? We're very careful not to touch anything."

  "No visitors are allowed," said the aunt, glancing down at her novelrather impatiently.

  "Ah! but you wouldn't count _us_ visitors," said Gerald in his bestmanner. "We're friends of Mabel's. Our father's Colonel of the --th."

  "Indeed!" said the aunt.

  "And our aunt's Lady Sandling, so you can be sure we wouldn't hurtanything on the estate."

  "I'm sure you wouldn't hurt a fly," said the aunt absently. "Goodbye. Begood children."

  And on this they got away quickly.

  "Why," said Gerald, when they were outside the little court, "youraunt's as mad as a hatter. Fancy not caring what becomes of you, andfancy believing that rot about the motor lady!"

  "I knew she'd believe it when I wrote it," said Mabel modestly. "She'snot mad, only she's always reading novelettes. _I_ read the books in thebig library. Oh, it's such a jolly room--such a queer smell, like boots,and old leather books sort of powdery at the edges. I'll take you theresome day. Now your consciences are all right about my aunt, I'll tellyou my great idea. Let's get down to the Temple of Flora. I'm glad yougot aunt's permission for the grounds. It would be so awkward for you tohave to be always dodging behind bushes when one of the gardeners camealong."

  "Yes," said Gerald modestly, "I thought of that."

  The day was as bright as yesterday had been, and from the white marbletemple the Italian-looking landscape looked more than ever like a steelengraving coloured by hand, or an oleographic imitation of one ofTurner's pictures.

  When the three children were comfortably settled on the steps that ledup to the white statue, the voice of the fourth child said sadly: "I'mnot ungrateful, but I'm rather hungry. And you can't be always takingthings for me through your larder window. If you like, I'll go back andlive in the castle. It's supposed to be haunted. I suppose I could hauntit as well as any one else. I am a sort of ghost now, you know. I willif you like."

  "Oh no," said Kathleen kindly; "you must stay with us."

  "But about food. I'm not ungrateful, really I'm not, but breakfast isbreakfast, and bread's only bread."

  "If you could get the ring off, you could go back."

  "Yes," said Mabel's voice, "but you see, I can't. I tried again lastnight in bed, and again this morning. And it's like stealing, takingthings out of your larder--even if it's only bread."

  "Yes, it is," said Gerald, who had carried out this bold enterprise.

  "Well, now, what we must do is to earn some money."

  Jimmy remarked that this was all very well. But Gerald and Kathleenlistened attentively.

  "What I mean to say," the voice went on, "I'm really sure is all for thebest, me being invisible. We shall have adventures--you see if wedon't."

  "'Adventures,' said the bold buccaneer, 'are not always profitable.'" Itwas Gerald who murmured this.

  "This one will be, anyhow, you see. Only you mustn't all go. Look here,if Jerry could make himself look common----"

  "That ought to be easy," said Jimmy. And Kathleen told him not to be sojolly disagreeable.

  "I'm not," said Jimmy, "only----"

  "Only he has an inside feeling that this Mabel of yours is going to getus into trouble," put in Gerald. "Like La Belle Dame Sans Merci, and hedoes not want to be found in future ages alone and palely loitering inthe middle of sedge and things."

  "I won't get you into trouble, indeed I won't," said the voice. "Why,we're a band of brothers for life, after the way you stood by meyesterday. What I mean is--Gerald can go to the fair and do conjuring."

  "He doesn't know any," said Kathleen.

  "_I_ should do it really," said Mabel, "but Jerry could look like doingit. Move things without touching them and all that. But it wouldn't dofor all three of you to go. The more there are of children the youngerthey look, I think, and the more people wonder what they're doing allalone by themselves."

  "The accomplished conjurer deemed these the words of wisdom," saidGerald; and answered the dismal "Well, but what about us?" of hisbrother and sister by suggesting that they should mingle unsuspectedwith the crowd. "But don't let on that you know me," he said; "and tryto look as if you belonged to some of the grown-ups at the fair. If youdon't, as likely as not you'll have the kind policemen taking the littlelost children by the hand and leading them home to their strickenrelations--French governess, I mean."

  "Let's go _now_," said the voice that they never could get quite used tohearing, coming out of different parts of the air as Mabel moved fromone place to another. So they went.

  The fair was held on a waste bit of land, about half a mile from thecastle gates. When they got near enough to hear the steam-organ of themerry-go-round, Gerald suggested that as he had ninepence he should goahead and get something to eat, the amount spent to be paid back out ofany money they might make by conjuring. The others waited in the shadowsof a deep-banked lane, and he came back, quite soon, though long afterthey had begun to say what a long time he had been gone. He brought someBarcelona nuts, red-streaked apples, small sweet yellow pears, palepasty gingerbread, a whole quarter of a pound of peppermint bull's-eyes,and two bottles of gingerbeer.

  "It's what they call an investment," he said, when Kathleen saidsomething about extravagance. "We shall all need special nourishing tokeep our strength up, especially the bold conjurer."

  They ate and drank. It was a very beautiful meal, and the far-off musicof the steam-organ added the last touch of festivity to the scene. Theboys were never tired of seeing Mabel eat, or rather of seeing thestrange, magic-looking vanishment of food which was all that showed ofMabel's eating. They were entranced by the spectacle, and pressed on hermore than her just share of the feast, just for the pleasure of seeingit disappear.

  "My aunt!" said Gerald, again and again; "that ought to knock 'em!"

  It did.

  Jimmy and Kathleen had the start of the others, and when they got to thefair they mingled with the crowd, and were as unsuspected as possible.

  They stood near a large lady who was watching the cocoanut shies, andpresently saw a strange figure with its hands in its pockets strollingacross the trampled yellowy grass among the bits of drifting paper andthe sticks and straws that always litter the ground of an English fair.It was Gerald, but at first they hardly knew him. He had taken off histie, and round his head, arranged like a turban, was the crimsonschool-scarf that had supported his white flannels. The tie, onesupposed, had taken on the duties of the handkerchief. And his face andhands were a bright black, like very nicely polished stoves!

  Every one turned to look at him.

  "He's just like a nigger!" whispered Jimmy. "I don't suppose it'll evercome off, do you?"

  They followed him at a distance, and when he went close to the door of asmall tent, against whose door-post a long-faced melancholy woman waslounging, they stopped and tried to look as though they belonged to afarmer who strove to send up a number by banging with a big mallet on awooden block.

  Gerald went up to the woman.

  "Taken much?" he asked, and was told, but not harshly, to go away withhis impudence.

  "I'm in business myself," said Gerald, "I'm a conjurer, from India."

  "Not you!" said the woman; "you ain't no nigger. Why, the backs of yerears is
all white."

  "Are they?" said Gerald. "How clever of you to see that!" He rubbed themwith his hands. "That better?"

  "That's all right. What's your little game?"

  "Conjuring, really and truly," said Gerald. "There's smaller boys thanme put on to it in India. Look here, I owe you one for telling me aboutmy ears. If you like to run the show for me I'll go shares. Let me haveyour tent to perform in, and you do the patter at the door."

  "Lor' love you! I can't do no patter. And you're getting at me. Let'ssee you do a bit of conjuring, since you're so clever an' all."

  "Right you are," said Gerald firmly. "You see this apple? Well, I'llmake it move slowly through the air, and then when I say 'Go!' it'llvanish."

  "Yes--into your mouth! Get away with your nonsense."

  "You're too clever to be so unbelieving," said Gerald. "Look here!"

  He held out one of the little apples, and the woman saw it move slowlyand unsupported along the air.

  "Now--_go_!" cried Gerald, to the apple, and it went. "How's that?" heasked, in tones of triumph.

  The woman was glowing with excitement, and her eyes shone. "The best Iever see!" she whispered. "I'm on, mate, if you know any more trickslike that."

  "Heaps," said Gerald confidently; "hold out your hand." The woman heldit out; and from nowhere, as it seemed, the apple appeared and was laidon her hand. The apple was rather damp.

  "YOU'RE GETTING AT ME. LET'S SEE YOU DO A BIT OFCONJURING, SINCE YOU'RE SO CLEVER AN' ALL."]

  She looked at it a moment, and then whispered: "Come on! there's to beno one in it but just us two. But not in the tent. You take a pitchhere, 'longside the tent. It's worth twice the money in the open air."

  "But people won't pay if they can see it all for nothing."

  "Not for the first turn, but they will after--you see. And you'll haveto do the patter."

  "Will you lend me your shawl?" Gerald asked. She unpinned it--it was ared and black plaid--and he spread it on the ground as he had seenIndian conjurers do, and seated himself cross-legged behind it.

  "I mustn't have any one behind me, that's all," he said; and the womanhastily screened off a little enclosure for him by hanging old sacks totwo of the guy-ropes of the tent. "Now I'm ready," he said. The womangot a drum from the inside of the tent and beat it. Quite soon a littlecrowd had collected.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," said Gerald, "I come from India, and I can do aconjuring entertainment the like of which you've never seen. When I seetwo shillings on the shawl I'll begin."

  "I dare say you will!" said a bystander; and there were several short,disagreeable laughs.

  "Of course," said Gerald, "if you can't afford two shillings betweenyou"--there were about thirty people in the crowd by now--"I say nomore."

  Two or three pennies fell on the shawl, then a few more, then the fallof copper ceased.

  "Ninepence," said Gerald. "Well, I've got a generous nature. You'll getsuch a nine-pennyworth as you've never had before. I don't wish todeceive you--I have an accomplice, but my accomplice is invisible."

  The crowd snorted.

  "By the aid of that accomplice," Gerald went on, "I will read any letterthat any of you may have in your pocket. If one of you will just stepover the rope and stand beside me, my invisible accomplice will readthat letter over his shoulder."

  A man stepped forward, a ruddy-faced, horsy-looking person. He pulled aletter from his pocket and stood plain in the sight of all, in a placewhere every one saw that no one could see over his shoulder.

  "Now!" said Gerald. There was a moment's pause. Then from quite theother side of the enclosure came a faint, far-away, sing-song voice. Itsaid:--

  "'SIR,--Yours of the fifteenth duly to hand. With regard to the mortgageon your land, we regret our inability----'"

  "Stow it!" cried the man, turning threateningly on Gerald.

  He stepped out of the enclosure explaining that there was nothing ofthat sort in his letter; but nobody believed him, and a buzz ofinterested chatter began in the crowd, ceasing abruptly when Geraldbegan to speak.

  "Now," said he, laying the nine pennies down on the shawl, "you keepyour eyes on those pennies, and one by one you'll see them disappear."

  "STOW IT!" CRIED THE MAN, TURNING THREATENINGLY ONGERALD.]

  And of course they did. Then one by one they were laid down again bythe invisible hand of Mabel. The crowd clapped loudly. "Brayvo!" "That'ssomething like!" "Show us another!" cried the people in the front rank.And those behind pushed forward.

  "Now," said Gerald, "you've seen what I can do, but I don't do any moretill I see five shillings on this carpet."

  And in two minutes seven-and-threepence lay there and Gerald did alittle more conjuring.

  When the people in front didn't want to give any more money, Geraldasked them to stand back and let the others have a look in. I wish I hadtime to tell you of all the tricks he did--the grass round his enclosurewas absolutely trampled off by the feet of the people who thronged tolook at him. There is really hardly any limit to the wonders you can doif you have an invisible accomplice. All sorts of things were made tomove about, apparently by themselves, and even to vanish--into the foldsof Mabel's clothing. The woman stood by, looking more and more pleasantas she saw the money come tumbling in, and beating her shabby drum everytime Gerald stopped conjuring.

  The news of the conjurer had spread all over the fair. The crowd wasfrantic with admiration. The man who ran the cocoanut shies beggedGerald to throw in his lot with him; the owner of the rifle galleryoffered him free board and lodging and go shares; and a brisk, broadlady, in stiff black silk and a violet bonnet, tried to engage him forthe forthcoming Bazaar for Reformed Bandsmen.

  And all this time the others mingled with the crowd--quite unobserved,for who could have eyes for any one but Gerald? It was getting quitelate, long past tea-time, and Gerald, who was getting very tired indeed,and was quite satisfied with his share of the money, was racking hisbrains for a way to get out of it.

  "How are we to hook it?" he murmured, as Mabel made his cap disappearfrom his head by the simple process of taking it off and putting it inher pocket. "They'll never let us get away. I didn't think of thatbefore."

  "Let me think!" whispered Mabel; and next moment she said, close to hisear: "Divide the money, and give her something for the shawl. Put themoney on it and say...." She told him what to say.

  Gerald's pitch was in the shade of the tent; otherwise, of course, everyone would have seen the shadow of the invisible Mabel as she moved aboutmaking things vanish.

  Gerald told the woman to divide the money, which she did honestlyenough.

  "Now," he said, while the impatient crowd pressed closer and closer."I'll give you five bob for your shawl."

  "Seven-and-six," said the woman mechanically.

  "Righto!" said Gerald, putting his heavy share of the money in histrouser pocket.

  "This shawl will now disappear," he said, picking it up. He handed it toMabel, who put it on; and, of course, it disappeared. A roar ofapplause went up from the audience.

  "Now," he said, "I come to the last trick of all. I shall take threesteps backward and vanish." He took three steps backward, Mabel wrappedthe invisible shawl round him, and--he did not vanish. The shawl, beinginvisible, did not conceal him in the least.

  "Yah!" cried a boy's voice in the crowd. "Look at 'im! 'E knows 'e can'tdo it."

  "I wish I could put you in my pocket," said Mabel. The crowd wascrowding closer. At any moment they might touch Mabel, and then anythingmight happen--simply anything. Gerald took hold of his hair with bothhands, as his way was when he was anxious or discouraged. Mabel, ininvisibility, wrung her hands, as people are said to do in books; thatis, she clasped them and squeezed very tight.

  "Oh!" she whispered suddenly, "it's loose. I can get it off."

  "Not----"

  "Yes--the ring."

  "Come on, young master. Give us summat for our money," a farm labourershouted.

  "I will," said Geral
d. "This time I really will vanish. Slip round intothe tent," he whispered to Mabel. "Push the ring under the canvas. Thenslip out at the back and join the others. When I see you with them I'lldisappear. Go slow, and I'll catch you up."

  = = = = =

  "It's me," said a pale and obvious Mabel in the ear of Kathleen. "He'sgot the ring; come on, before the crowd begins to scatter."

  As they went out of the gate they heard a roar of surprise and annoyancerise from the crowd, and knew that this time Gerald really _had_disappeared.

  They had gone a mile before they heard footsteps on the road, and lookedback. No one was to be seen.

  Next moment Gerald's voice spoke out of clear, empty-looking space.

  "Halloa!" it said gloomily.

  "How horrid!" cried Mabel; "you did make me jump! Take the ring off. Itmakes me feel quite creepy, you being nothing but a voice."

  "So did you us," said Jimmy.

  "Don't take it off yet," said Kathleen, who was really rather thoughtfulfor her age, "because you're still black, I suppose, and you might berecognised, and eloped with by gipsies, so that you should go on doingconjuring for ever and ever."

  "I should take it off," said Jimmy; "it's no use going about invisible,and people seeing us with Mabel and saying we've eloped with her."

  "Yes," said Mabel impatiently, "that would be simply silly. And,besides, I want my ring."

  "It's not yours any more than ours, anyhow," said Jimmy.

  "Yes, it is," said Mabel.

  "Oh, stow it!" said the weary voice of Gerald beside her. "What's theuse of jawing?"

  "I want the ring," said Mabel, rather mulishly.

  "Want"--the words came out of the still evening air--"want must be yourmaster. You can't have the ring. _I can't get it off!_"