Ho! Ho! Ho! Santa Claus' Reading List
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And holding them in store for dreary hours
When winds are chill and all the sky is gray.
* * *
I know a way
Of stealing fragrance from the new-mown hay
And storing it in flasks of petals made,
To scent the air when all the flowers fade
And leave the woodland world to sad decay.
* * *
I know a way
Of coaxing snowflakes in their flight to stay
So still awhile, that, as they hang in air,
I weave them into frosty lace, to wear
About my head upon a sultry day.
* * *
Dorothy, crouching down in the thicket, listened to this little song with great delight; but she was extremely sentimental where poetry was concerned, and it happened that when she heard this last verse she clasped her hands in a burst of rapture and exclaimed in quite a loud voice, “Oh, delicious!” This was very unfortunate, for the song stopped short the instant she spoke, and for a moment everything was perfectly silent; then the little voice spoke up again, and said, “Who is that?”
* * *
“It’s I,” said Dorothy.
* * *
“It’s two eyes, if it comes to that,” said the little voice; “I can see them through the bushes. Are you a rabbit?”
* * *
“No,” said Dorothy, laughing softly to herself, “I’m a child.”
* * *
“Oh!” exclaimed the voice. It was a very little Oh; in fact, it sounded to Dorothy as if it might be about the size of a cherry-stone, and she said to herself, “I verily believe it’s a fairy, and she certainly can’t be a bit bigger than my thumb—my regular thumb, I mean,” she added, holding up her hand and looking at the size of it with great contempt.
* * *
Then the little voice spoke up again and said, “And how big are you?”
* * *
“I’m about three inches tall,” said Dorothy; and she was so excited by this time at the prospect of seeing a real live fairy for the first time in her life, that she felt as if a lot of flies were running up and down on the back of her neck.
* * *
“Dear me!” exclaimed the little voice, expressing great astonishment in its small way. “Why, there’s hardly enough of you to put in a corner.”
* * *
Dorothy reflected for a moment and then called out, “But, you know, that depends altogether on the size of the corner.”
* * *
“Oh, no, it doesn’t!” said the little voice, very confidently. “All corners are the same size if you only get close enough to ’em.”
* * *
“Dear me!” said Dorothy to herself, “how very intelligent she is! I must have a look at her”; and, pushing the leaves gently aside, she cautiously peeped out.
* * *
It was a charming little dell, carpeted with fine moss, and with strange-looking wild flowers and tall nodding grasses growing about the sides of it; but, to Dorothy’s astonishment, the fairy proved to be an extremely small field-mouse, sitting up like a little pug-dog and gazing attentively at the thicket: “and I think”—the Mouse went on, as if it were tired of waiting for an answer to its last remark—“I think a child should be six inches tall, at least.”
* * *
This was so ridiculous that Dorothy had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming with laughter. “Why,” she exclaimed, “I used to be”—and here she had to stop and count up on her fingers as if she were doing a sum—“I used to be eight times as big as that, myself.”
* * *
“Tut, tut!—” said the Mouse, and the “tuts” sounded like beads dropping into a pill-box—“tut, tut! Don’t tell me such rubbish!”
* * *
“Oh, you needn’t tut me,” said Dorothy. “It’s the exact truth.”
* * *
“Then I don’t understand it,” said the Mouse, shaking its head in a puzzled way. “I always thought children grew the other way.”
* * *
“Well, you see,—” said Dorothy, in her old-fashioned way,—“you see, I’ve been very much reduced.” (She thought afterward that this sounded rather as if she had lost all her property, but it was the only thing she could think of to say at the time.)
* * *
“I don’t see it at all,” said the Mouse, fretfully, “and what’s more, I don’t see you, in fact, I don’t think you ought to be hiding in the bushes and chattering at me in this way.”
* * *
This seemed to Dorothy to be a very personal remark, and she answered, rather indignantly, “And why not, I should like to know?”
* * *
“Because,”—said the Mouse in a very superior manner,—“because little children should be seen and not heard.”
* * *
“Hoity-toity!” said Dorothy, very sharply. (I don’t think she had the slightest idea of what this meant, but she had read somewhere in a book that it was an expression used when other persons gave themselves airs, and she thought she would try the effect of it on the Mouse.) But, to her great disappointment, the Mouse made no reply of any kind, and after picking a leaf and holding it up to its eyes for a moment, as if it were having a cry in its small way, the poor little creature turned about and ran into the thicket at the further side of the dell.
* * *
Dorothy was greatly distressed at this, and, jumping out of the bushes into the dell, she began calling, “Mousie! Mousie! Come back! I didn’t mean it, dear. It was only an esperiment.” But there was no answer, and, stooping down at the place where the Mouse had disappeared, she looked into the thicket. There was nothing there but a very small squirrel eating a nut; and, after staring at her for a moment in great astonishment, he threw the nut in her face and scampered off into the bushes.
* * *
“Nice manners, upon my word!” said Dorothy, in great indignation at this treatment, and then, standing up, she gazed about the dell rather disconsolately; but there was no living thing in sight except a fat butterfly lazily swinging up and down on a blade of grass. Dorothy touched him with her finger to see if he were awake, but the Butterfly gave himself an impatient shake, and said, fretfully, “Oh, don’t,” and, after waiting a moment, to be sure that was all he had to say, she walked mournfully away through the wood.
Something About the Camel
The wood wasn’t nearly so pleasant now as it had been before, and Dorothy was quite pleased when, after walking a little way, she came in sight again of the bank covered with rocking-chairs, and running up, she hurried through the little door into the toy-shop.
* * *
Everything was just as she had left it, and the stream was running merrily under the castle bridge; but just as she was going by, the bridge itself began hitching up in the middle and pawing, as it were, at the banks of the stream in such an extraordinary manner that she stopped to see what was going to happen.
* * *
“It’s sure to be something wonderous,” she said to herself, as she stood watching it, and she was quite right about this, for the bridge presently turned into a remarkably spirited rocking-horse (dappled, with black spots scattered about), and after rocking back and forth once or twice, as if to be sure it really was a horse, settled down perfectly still as if it never expected to be anything else. In fact, with the exception of a large fly, about as big as one of Dorothy’s feet, that was buzzing about, everything in the window was now perfectly quiet, and drawing a long breath of relief, she walked away through the shop.
* * *
As she walked along on the shelf, she presently came to the grocer’s shop and found the Caravan sitting in a row on a little bench at the door. The Admiral had the Camel in his lap, and they were all gazing at it with an air of extreme solicitude. It was a frowsy little thing with lumpy legs that hung down in a dangling way from the Admiral’s knees, and Si
r Walter was busily employed trying to make it drink something out of a bottle.
* * *
“What are you giving him?” inquired Dorothy, curiously.
* * *
“Glue,” said the Admiral, promptly. “He needs stiffening up, you see.”
* * *
“Goodness gracious, what an awful dose!” said Dorothy, with a shudder.
* * *
“That doesn’t make any difference so long as he won’t take it,” said Sir Walter; and here he flew into a tremendous passion, and began beating the Camel about the head so furiously with the bottle that Dorothy cried out, “Here—stop that instantly!”
* * *
“He doesn’t mind it no more than if he was a bolster,” put in the Highlander. “Set him up again and let’s see him fall down,” he added, rubbing his hands together with a relish.
* * *
“Indeed, you’ll do nothing of the sort,” exclaimed Dorothy, with great indignation; and, snatching the Camel from the Admiral’s lap, she carried him into the grocer’s shop and set him down upon the floor. The Camel looked about for a moment with a very mournful expression on his face, and then climbed into one of the drawers that was standing open, and pulled it to after him as a person might close a door, and Dorothy, after watching this remarkable performance with great wonderment, went out again.
* * *
The Caravan had lost no time, and were standing on the bench, putting up a little sign on the front of the shop with “camel for sale” on it, and Dorothy, trying not to laugh, said, “Is this your shop?”
* * *
“Yes,” replied the Admiral, with an important air. “The grocer’s been sold for a cook because he had an apron on, and we’ve taken the business.”
* * *
“What are you going to keep?” asked Dorothy, who was vastly amused at this idea.
* * *
“Why, we’re going to keep the shop,” said the Admiral, climbing down from the bench and staring at her in great surprise.
* * *
“But you must certainly keep things to sell,” said Dorothy.
* * *
“How can we keep things if we sell ’em?” inquired Sir Walter.
* * *
“Well, you can’t sell anything unless you keep it in the shop, you know,” persisted Dorothy, feeling that she was somehow or other getting the worst of the argument.
* * *
“Bosh!” said the Admiral, obstinately; “you can’t keep things you sell—that is,” he added, “not unless your customers are crazy”; and with this remark the Caravan went into the shop and shut the door in Dorothy’s face, as if she wasn’t worth talking to any longer.
* * *
Dorothy waited for a moment to see if they were coming out again, and then, as there was a noise inside as if they were piling up the drawers against the door by way of a barricade, she walked slowly away through the toy-shop.
* * *
She had had such a variety of adventures in the shop by this time that she was getting quite tired of the place, and she was walking along rather disconsolately, and wishing there was some way of growing to her natural size, and then getting back again to poor old Uncle Porticle and the Blue Admiral Inn, when, as she went around the corner of the little apothecary’s shop, she came suddenly upon Bob Scarlet. To her great surprise, he was now just about the size of an ordinary robin; but he had on his red waistcoat, and had quite as important an air as ever, and he was strolling about examining the various toys, and putting down the price of everything in a little red book, as if he were thinking of going into the business himself.
* * *
“Now, I wonder how he ever got to be that size,” thought Dorothy, as she hid behind a little pile of lead-pencils and watched him over the top of them. “I suppose he’s eaten something, or drunk something, to make him grow, the way they do in fairy stories; because the Admiral certainly said he wasn’t any bigger than an ant. And, oh! I wish I knew what it was,” she added, mournfully, as the tears came into her eyes at the thought of how small she was, “I wish I knew what it was!”
* * *
“If I wasn’t a little afraid of him,” she went on, after she had had a little cry, “I’d ask him. But likely as not he’d peck at me—old peckjabber!” and here she laughed through her tears as she thought of the Caravan in their little sunbonnets. “Or p’r’aps he’d snap me up! I’ve often heard of snapping people up when they asked too many questions, but seems to me it never meant anything so awful as that before”; and she was rambling on in this way, laughing and crying by turns, when at this moment Bob Scarlet came suddenly upon a fine brass bird-cage, and, after staring at it in a stupefied way for an instant, he dropped his little book, with an appearance of great agitation, and hurried away without so much as looking behind him.
* * *
Dorothy ran after him, carefully keeping out of sight in case he should turn around, and as she went by the bird-cage she saw that it was marked “perfectly secure” in large letters. “And that’s what took the conceit out of you, mister,” she said, laughing to herself, and hurried along after the Robin.
* * *
As she caught sight of him again he was just scurrying by the grocer’s shop, and she could see the faces of the Caravan watching him, over the top of a little half-blind in the window, with an expression of the greatest concern, and the next moment a door at the back of the shop opened and they all rushed out. They had on their sunbonnets and shawls, and Dorothy saw that the Admiral was carrying the Camel under his arm; but before she could say a word to them they had scampered away and were out of sight.
* * *
By this time the toy-shop itself was all in a commotion. Dolls were climbing down from the shelves and falling over each other; the big marbles had in some way got out of the basket and were rolling about in all directions; and Dorothy could see the old dame at the further end of the shop, running about and frantically striking at one thing after another with her spoon. To make matters worse, quite a little army of tin soldiers suddenly appeared, running confusedly about, with the drawers from the little grocer’s shop upside down on their heads, and all calling “Fire!” at the top of their voices. As they couldn’t see where anybody was going, or where they were going themselves, it made the situation very desperate indeed.
* * *
Dorothy was frightened almost out of her wits, but she ran on in a bewildered sort of a way, dodging the rolling marbles and upsetting the dolls and the soldiers in great numbers, until she fortunately caught sight of the little rat-hole of a door, and, rushing through it, she hurried down the bank, knocking the green rocking-chairs about in every direction, and ran off into the wood as fast as she could go.
The Camel’s Complaint
Dorothy ran along until she thought she was quite safe, and then stopped to look back and listen. There was a confused sound of shouts and cries in the distance, but nothing seemed to be coming after her, so, after waiting a moment to get her breath, she walked quietly away through the wood.
* * *
“What a scene of turmoil it was!” she said to herself. (You see, she was trying to express herself in a very dignified and composed manner, as if she hadn’t been in the least disturbed by what had happened.) “I presume—” she went on, “I presume it was something like a riot, although I really don’t see what it was all about. Of course I’ve never been in a riot, but if it’s anything like that, I shall never have anything to do with one”;—which certainly was a very wise resolution for a little girl to make; but as Dorothy was always making wise resolutions about things that were never going to happen, I really don’t think that this particular one was a matter of any consequence.
* * *
She was so much pleased with these remarks that she was going on to say a number of very fine things, when she came suddenly upon the Caravan hiding behind a large tree. They were sitting in a little bunch on the grass, and, as Doro
thy appeared, they all put on an appearance of great unconcern, and began staring up at the branches of the tree, as if they hadn’t seen her.
* * *
“They’ve certainly been doing something they’re ashamed of,” she said to herself, “but they can’t deceive me with any such behavior as that”; and just then the Admiral pretended he had just caught sight of her and said, with a patronizing air, “Ah! How d’ ye do? How d’ ye do?” as if they hadn’t met for quite a while.
* * *
“You know perfectly well how I do, and I consider that a very foolish remark,” replied Dorothy, speaking in a very dignified manner, and not feeling at all pleased with this reception; and then noticing that Humphrey was nowhere to be seen, she said severely, “Where’s your Camel?”