CHAPTER X
THISTLEDOWN
“Well,” commenced Letty cheerfully, “it began like this:
“Thistledown was a roguish elf and, I am afraid, rather a selfish littlefellow. The sight of good examples did not make him want to be useful orhelpful at all. Indeed, nothing could make him work except to threatento take away his liberty. For Thistledown prized his liberty dearly. Notfrom the high, noble motives of honor and self-respect that are thereasons why most people insist upon having their rights, but because toThistledown his liberty meant his happiness. It meant nice long, warmhours in which to float idly about the great sunshiny world with never athought or care in his feather-brained head.
“He was not a bothersome elf, as idle folk are so apt to be. He was toolazy to tease—except to give an occasional passing tickle to the long noseof some serious old gnome bent over his work, when Thistledown’s merrylaugh at the goblin’s sneeze and start of surprise was so jolly that thegnome had to laugh too, and so no cross words were spoken.
“The breezes were Thistledown’s best friends. They were as lazy andcareless as himself, and the kindred spirits got on splendidly together.The breezes would carry him on long, swift rides astride their backs, orfloat with him lazily along over sweet-smelling fields of flowers.Sometimes they would dip him in the brook, but Thistledown did not mindthat, for he shed water like a duck and the little plunge served finelyto cool him off on hot summer days.
“But lazy folk are bound to be punished sooner or later, for it is notright to be lazy, and everything that is not right in the world is sureto be punished some time or other. And so it happened—but I am going tolet Thistledown tell his story in his own way. (Yes, Kit, that is justthe way it was in the magazine.)
“One day as Thistledown was floating over a field of daisies, he spied aspot of yellow among the flowers that was very much larger than any ofthe daisy centres, and much shinier and softer. Too lazy to wonder whatthe new kind of blossom could be, but thinking that it looked like asnug, silky place for a nap, he dropped down upon it. Immediately hisdowny wings became mixed up in a soft tangle of long golden threads thatcurled and twined about in a distressfully confusing way, all aroundhim.
“Thistledown became frightened, but the more he struggled to freehimself the more tangled he became in the golden mesh. At last he sawapproaching him what he knew to be a person’s hand and his little heartsank within him as he felt this new prison closing about him. The touchof the small hand was very gentle so that not one of Thistledown’sfeathers was crushed. But he was very much frightened nevertheless, poorlittle fellow, and closed his eyes tight for a minute.
“When he dared to open them again he found himself being surveyed veryseriously by a pair of big blue eyes.
“‘Now, sir,’ said the little girl (I am sure you have guessed before nowthat Thistledown’s golden prison was a little girl’s curls), ‘Now, sir,’she said, ‘before I let you go, you must tell me a story, please.’
“She was a very polite little girl and although she knew that she heldThistledown in her power and that he simply had to do whatever she toldhim to, whether he wanted to or not, still she said ‘sir’ and ‘please’when she asked for her story, for she was a very polite little girl.
“The politeness pleased Thistledown—as nice manners always do pleaseevery one—but his little wits could not think of anything like a story.
“‘I’m afraid I don’t know any story,’ he replied, trying to be as politeas the little girl.
“‘Oh, yes, you do. You’re sure to,’ she declared, with a grave littlenod of her head. ‘Tell me about your ad-ven-tures!’
“This was a very big word for such a little girl, but she got it outquite correctly. Besides, she knew very well what the word meant,because she had seen it so often on the back of a book on her sister’sbook-shelf. ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.’
“Thistledown squirmed and wriggled and began to grow warm and cross.
“‘I don’t know any stories. And I never had any adventures—except once,’he added, remembering something all at once.
“‘Oh, please do tell me about it,’ coaxed the little girl.
“She looked so pretty, and besides, she held him so firmly, thatThistledown saw that the sooner he told his story the sooner he would befree, so he began at once:
“‘It happened so long ago that I may forget parts, but I’ll tell it thebest I know how. I was flying home from a party one afternoon and as itwas almost dark I was in a good deal of a hurry. Pretty soon, down atthe edge of a field of tall grasses, I saw an old firefly poking aboutas if he were looking for something. I stopped to see what was thematter, for it was too dark to hope to find anything, and the oldfirefly’s lantern gave out hardly any light at all.
“‘I supposed his light was dim because the old fellow was too lazy tomake it shine brighter. I had seen the gnomes blowing up their forgefires with a pair of bellows to make them burn brighter and I supposedthe firefly’s lantern worked the same way. So I got behind the oldfellow as he stooped to look under a clump of violet leaves, and I gavea quick, sharp little blow—pouf—like that, at his lantern. But what doyou suppose happened? It went out!
“‘I was terribly surprised and a bit frightened, for that horrid oldfirefly thought that I had done it on purpose. He whirled around beforeI could spread my wings, and caught hold of me.
“‘“You wicked, wicked little sprite!” he exclaimed, almost squeezing thebreath out of me. “How dared you, oh, how dared you!”
“‘I never dreamed he could move so fast and I was too surprised to getout of his way. If you have ever had a firefly on your hand you know howsticky their legs feel. Well, the old firefly held me by all his legs,squeezing me tight and mussing my party feathers. Lifting me off theground, he flew away with me, scolding all the while.
“‘“You are a vicious little vagabond,” he said. I don’t know what hemeant, but those are the very words he used and I know they meantsomething disagreeable. He thought I had blown out his light, just formischief. “But you shall be punished for it,” he went on. “I’ll see toit. I shall take you to the King himself!”
“‘I grew more and more frightened. His voice was so very cross and heclutched me so tight. Then, too, we were flying along through the darkover fields I had never visited before. I have always been afraid in thedark’ (here the little girl nodded her head understandingly and lookedabout her at the bright sunshine gratefully). ‘And the grasses rustledso queerly. I began to be afraid that they, too, meant to do me harm.
“‘At last, after we had been flying for what seemed to me to be hours,we reached a sort of open place, all bare and cold looking, with highrocks all about it. There were thousands of fireflies inside this place,all with their lanterns brightly burning. On one side a great many flieswere bunched together to light a kind of throne, and on this throne satthe King and Queen of the Fireflies. My heart was in my mouth as mycaptor carried me across to them, for the King was ever so much biggerthan any of the other fireflies and I did not know what he might do topunish me.
“‘There were two or three other fireflies talking to the King, but theyall stopped and moved aside when they saw the old firefly coming up withhis lantern gone out, and carrying me.
“‘“Why, what’s this, what’s this?” asked the King in a surprised voiceas the fly sank down, all out of breath, at the foot of the throne.
“‘“Oh, Your Majesty,“ he gasped, as soon as he could get breath enoughto speak, “I was hunting for corn-flowers down in the big meadow, tryingto find enough honey to finish my supper before it grew too dark, foryou know I am growing old and my light was giving out.”
“‘“Yes, yes, I know,” replied the King kindly. “We have all felt verysorry about it. And I am greatly shocked to see that it has now gone outaltogether.”
“‘“Ah, but hear how that happened, Your Majesty. I was hunting about,very busy and never dreaming of the dreadful thing that was to happen,when th
is little creature”—he did not call me a vicious little vagabondto the King, but his voice sounded as if he would like to—“stole upbehind me and blew out my light!”
“‘Everybody exclaimed at this and crowded about the old firefly to tellhim how sorry they were. I was sorry too, as sorry as I could be, for Ihad not known that the firefly’s light was dim because he was growingold. I had not meant any harm, but rather to help him. I tried toexplain this to the fireflies but no one would listen when I talkedabout the gnomes and their forge fires. I thought the Queen waslistening, for she kept looking at me; but she did not say anything.
“‘The King ordered me off to prison, and appointed the old fly, whoselight I had blown out, to be my keeper. There were two other guards tothe prison too, and it was horrid. My prison was a long, narrow crack inone of the brown rocks and I don’t know how long a time I spent there.It seemed like years. At the back, very cold and dark indeed, was mybed. The front looked down on the open space which, I learned, wascalled the throne glade, and one could see everything that went on. Butthe two keepers always sat one on each side of the door, and the old flyin the middle so that I could not see out. If the King went by, oranything interesting happened, I would try to peep over their shoulders,but the guards scolded me so and made such unkind remarks that I wasready to cry.
“‘It was a dreadful time. I was getting thinner, for I was not used toliving in the dark and I did not like the things they gave me to eat. Mywings were getting so weak from not being used that I began to be afraidthey would never hold me up again.
“‘The only thing that was at all pleasant was a visit from the Queen.She was very kind and said that she had heard what I said about notmeaning to injure the old fly, but that I must understand that almost asmuch harm and sorrow happened in the world through “not meaning to” asfrom real naughtiness. She said that it is always dangerous to meddlewith things we don’t know about and most dangerous of all to meddle withfire. And I promised her that I would never do it again.
“‘The keepers were a little more kind to me after the Queen’s visit andI tried to show the old firefly, whose lamp I had blown out, that I wassorry. I was hoping that the Queen would send some one to set me free,but she did not and it was very lonely. I began to be afraid I shouldhave to stay in that gloomy prison all the rest of my life.
“‘Then, one day, a young firefly came bustling up to the prison in greatexcitement. The King and Queen had been invited to a big party given bythe June beetles, and all the fireflies were asked to go along to helplight up the party. The June beetle’s country was pretty far off and thefireflies would have to start early in the afternoon to reach it beforedark. Every single one of them was to go except my old keeper, who wasleft to guard me.
“‘“Of course I would not be wanted anyhow,” I heard him say crossly.“I’m of no use without my lantern.”
“‘I was very sorry that the poor old fly had to stay behind and miss theparty, but I realized that my chance had come to escape. So, every day,while the three guards sat in the doorway, busy watching what went onbelow and talking about the party, I stayed in the dark corner beside mybed and exercised my wings by lifting myself up to the ceiling and downagain on them, to bring back the strength.
“‘At last the day of the party arrived and every single firefly had goneexcept my old keeper and me. We sat side by side in the doorway andwatched the sun go down. I really think the old fly was as unhappy tohave me sit in the doorway as he had been to miss the party. But hecould not fill up the whole doorway by himself, although he crowded me agreat deal, nor could he forbid me to stay there, so I sat and lookeddown at the throne glade and tried to see where the opening was that ledback to the world.
“‘It always got dark early in this place and as soon as the sun had set,the old fly got up and said I must go to bed. I got up without sayinganything and he turned around and started back toward my bed, thinkingthat I was following right behind. You remember that his light was outand he could not see.
“‘But I did not lose a second of time. The instant his back was turned Ispread my wings and flew down into the throne glade. My poor wings wereso weak that I almost fell, but they soon got stronger as I skimmedthrough the fresh air. The old fly did not miss me at first, and I hadtime to get out through the narrow opening of the glade before herealized what had happened and started to follow me.
“‘My wings grew stronger every minute, and I was oh, so happy to be freeand on my way back to my own dear, sunshiny world again, that I did notfeel a bit frightened when presently I heard the blind old fly comingafter me. He was oh, so cross! He could not see me at all and could onlytell where I was by the rustle of my wings. But although he was olderthan I he was stronger and could fly faster. I heard him coming closerand closer. What if I should be captured again! I should die, I knew!
“‘On I flew, faster and faster, and at last I found myself again in thefield of high grasses near the edge of which I had first seen the oldfly. The noises and darkness of the grasses had frightened me then, butnow they seemed like home to me. I was too tired to fly another inch, soI just dropped down, right into the middle of a clump of grasses.
“‘It was now much too dark to see anything and the grasses made such arustle in the wind that the old firefly did not miss the sound of mywings at first and had flown quite some distance ahead before herealized that I was not in front of him any longer. Then, how angry hewas! He knew that I must be hiding somewhere near by, and he wentbumping back and forth over the field, hitting his poor head againststalks and getting crosser every minute. He flew quite close to me twoor three times and I held my breath for fear he would pounce upon me.But after a long, long time he gave up hunting for me and flew angrilyaway.
“‘And not any too soon, either, for the moon came out presently andshone so bright that he could have seen me down in the clump of grassesat once. I waited until I was quite sure that he was out of sight andwould not come back, then I sprang up and flew home as fast as my poorweak wings would carry me. And you may be sure that I have kept out ofthe way of fireflies ever since.’
“Thistledown stopped talking, quite out of breath and tired with hislong story.
“‘It was a very interesting story,’ said the little girl, ‘and I thankyou very much for telling it to me. And I’ll remember, too, what theQueen of the Fireflies told you about not meddling,’ she addedthoughtfully.
“Then the little girl stood up, still holding Thistledown gently in herchubby hand.
“‘I am going to do what you did to the firefly—only I hope it won’t hurtyou,’ she said. ‘Get behind you and say pouf—like that,’ and puffing outher rosy cheeks, she sent Thistledown sailing merrily away through thewarm, sunshiny air.”
Letty ended her story with a little laugh.
“I feel as out of breath as Thistledown did, when he had finished hisadventure,” she laughed.
“Ho!” ejaculated Christopher, who had nearly burst in his effort to keephis promise not to interrupt. “He couldn’t have blown out the oldfirefly’s lamp. They’re not made that way. They’re a part of thefirefly—the light they make, I mean. The person who wrote that story didnot know very much about beetles and things.”
The curtains parted in an up-stairs window and a smiling face lookeddown upon them.
“I know who wrote the story, Kit,” called Mrs. Hartwell-Jones. “Can youguess?” she asked merrily.
Letty looked up with her face all aglow, enlightened by Mrs.Hartwell-Jones’s expression.
“Oh, Mrs. Hartwell-Jones,” she exclaimed, “you don’t mean to say thatyou wrote it!”
“Yes,” laughed the lady gayly. “I wrote it ever so many years ago. Howwonderfully you remembered it, my dear.”
“I loved it,” replied Letty simply. “But I should never have believed itthen if any one had told me that some day I should know the writer,” andshe sighed happily.
“I’ll write another one some time—just for you and Janey,” promised Mrs.H
artwell-Jones. “And now wouldn’t you children like to drive Punch andJudy into the village to carry some of my things to Mr. Parsons’ house?”
The twins jumped up with a whoop. They were always delighted to go for adrive in the pony carriage.
Letty and the Twins Page 10
