At length, late in the afternoon, after a journey that was very tiring to the young ones, they came to a part where the forest seemed a little clearer and lighter and not so swampy. The track went on for another half-hour’s travel and then they saw before them a house which they knew must be Mother Meldrum’s, if only because nobody but a witch would select it for a home.
Mother Meldrum’s House
There was a little shabby patch of grass in front of the house, but behind and at the sides it was closely surrounded by trees and thick bushes. It seemed to be mostly roof—an untidy roof of thatch that reached nearly to the ground in some places and twisted up into gables here and there over ugly little windows like eyes. Although it was by no means a big house it looked somehow as if it had rather a lot of little lopsided secret rooms, and. it had what I may call a generally wicked appearance. One could not imagine kind silver-haired people living in it and doing good deeds to the poor. It had its effect on Sylvia, who hung back a little as they came near; and even Joe showed no anxiety to get inside.
“I think we’d better tie Tiger up in one of these napkins,” said Sylvia.” You see Sir Percival said she had black cats, and if Tiger takes to chasing them about she may get angry.”
“Yes, Sylvia,” said Gorbo.” That’s a good idea. We must keep her in a good temper.”
So the puppy. was tied up carefully in a napkin, with only his nose out, and carried in Sylvia’s arms. Then Baldry—who suggested that he should be the spokesman because of his ready wit—rapped smartly at the door.
“Who knocks? “called a disagreeable voice.
“I, good mother, Baldry the King’s High Jester. And I have with me my dear old friend Gorbo and my dear little friends, Sylvia and Joe, to say nothing of their small hound. And we have come a long, long way to pay our respects to you.”
“Pull the string of the latch and come in,” said the voice.
Baldry did as he was told and they all went into a fairly large low-ceilinged room which looked like a kitchen. At the chimney-place a tall old woman was standing, stirring up a pot. She turned and looked at them, and Sylvia gave a little squawk at the sight of her face, which was indeed horrible.
“Here we are again! “cried Baldry, cutting a swift caper and then striking an attitude calculated to put anybody into a good humour.
“What do you mean by ‘again’?” asked the old woman with a scowl.” You’ve never been here before.”
“Well, good dame, it means—well, it means ‘Here we are and let’s be jolly’ or words to that effect. It’s an expression in common use among jesters,” he added lamely, for the old woman merely turned round and went on stirring the pot.
“So that’s what it means.” She tasted a spoonful of soup from the pot in a leisurely way.” I see. And does the King laugh when you say that? “
“Yes—sometimes.”
“Ah! “she said, “I’ve heard he’s not quite in his right mind.”
Now this was an unsatisfactory reception, and they all four felt very uncomfortable standing in the middle of the kitchen, with the old woman’s back turned to them as she went on stirring. The room was very dark, for there was only one small window at one end, shaded with thatch, and there was not too much light outside owing to the trees. But every now and then the fire would flicker up and give them glimpses of articles such as a witch would be likely to have about her bundles of herbs that looked poisonous and a stuffed alligator hanging from the rafters, and so forth. Poor Sylvia need not have worried about Tiger chasing the witch’s cats, for things were the other way about. Six or seven of the biggest and blackest cats that ever lashed a tail came crawling out of corners and rubbing themselves against her so that she could hardly keep her feet, all the while purring like horrible snores, their green eyes fixed on the napkin that held the shivering Tiger.
After a couple of minutes or so the old woman turned round and seated herself on a stool and looked at them.” Are you the one who squealed just now? “she asked Sylvia.
“Ye—yes, Mrs. Meldrum,” replied Sylvia faintly.
“You’d better not do it again. Now then, one of you! What do you want? “
“We only want to know how to get back across the river, please, Mum,” said Gorbo politely.
“Ah, you’re a Snerg, I see. How did you get here? “Gorbo gave her a brief account of the result of his fatheadedness, and Mother Meldrum chuckled.
“What will you give me if I tell you? “she asked after a while.
Gorbo brought out his silver-tipped horn and laid it on the table.” If this little christening present will do, Mum—”
“What else? “
“I’m afraid I haven’t anything else really valuable, Mum. But Sylvia here has a little coral necklace—”
“Let’s see your necklace, Sylvia,” said Mother Meldrum. Sylvia took it off and gave it to Gorbo, who handed it to the old woman. She glanced contemptuously at it and threw it on the table.
“What else? “
“That’s all we’ve got, Mum—except clothes.”
She looked at the clothes of all of them in a general way. Then she reached out her arm and fingered the material of Sylvia’s frock. Then she sniffed.
“This little lot,” she said, nodding at the horn and necklace, “will just about pay a tenth part of what I want to show you the way.”
There was an unpleasant silence for a time. Even Baldry appeared to have mislaid his blithe disposition. Though he had expressed a desire to meet the witch, now that he had the opportunity he did not seem to enjoy it. The truth is he was overwhelmed by what is known as the personality of the old lady.
“Make me laugh,” she said, suddenly turning to him.
More Sorrow For Baldry
“Er— laugh, good mother?” he replied.” Oh, yes, of course. Would you like—”
“I want to be amused,” she interrupted angrily rapping on the table.” It’s your job, isn’t it? Don’t stand there like a pump but say amusing things! “
“I’ll do my best, dame,” said Baldry, rousing himself.
“Perhaps a few rib-tickling conundrums will please’ you. If so, tell me the difference between an unripe gooseberry—”
“Shan’t!” shouted Mother Meldrum.
“Oh—then would you like a merry song? “
“Not a bit.”
“Oh—then perhaps—perhaps a jolly tale would please you.”
“Let’s hear your jolly tale,” she said, after a moment’s consideration.
“Well, then, good dame,” said Baldry, making a special effort, “there was once an honest collector of the King’s taxes who—“
“Don’t believe it.”
“But this one was honest,” pleaded Baldry.
“Then why didn’t you say he was a freak? Go on.”
“And this collector of taxes was on his way home after the day’s toil, riding on his ass, when he met three beggars, who begged of him—”
“Well, that’s what they usually do, isn’t it? What’s there funny about that? “
“Nothing very much,” replied Baldry.” But it will get better as I go on.”
“Go on, then, what are you waiting for? “
“And so, good dame, being charitable as well as honest, he gave to the first beggar a penny, to the second a piece of sausage, .and to the third a small loaf of bread. But the first beggar, having had a full meal some half-hour before—”
“Excuse me for stopping you,” interrupted Mother Meldrum, “but I don’t think I care to hear any more. You say it is meant to be a funny tale, don’t you? “
“It is generally so considered,” replied Baldry sulkily.
“To me,” said the old woman, “it’s about as funny as a bilious attack.”
To those who know from experiences—
I confess I do—know painful it is to have one’s verbal efforts to be sparkling received with cold, unappreciative looks or smiles in which pity lurks behind a mere pretence at mirth, will appreciate how Baldry suffered from this really pointed rudeness. He stood looking miserably at the venomous old person, too distressed to notice that Sylvia was endeavouring to console him by patting his hand. His profession was to make laughter, to spread good humour, to (at meal times) set the table in a roar; yet he was roaming the earth, an outcast, because of the ill-success of his late jest with the King, and now he had failed again. Was he losing his power to captivate? That is what troubled him.
A Change of Tone
Mother Meldrum got up and went back to her cooking, leaving them standing, with Sylvia still knee deep in black cats.
“Look here, Mum,” said Gorbo, after an uncomfortable interval of silence, “Golithos told me you’d be kind enough to tell me—”
“Golithos?” The old woman turned round smartly.” So you saw Golithos, did you? “
“Yes, Mum, we stayed one night at his place. He said you came to see him sometimes, and he told us to wait there for you.”
“Then what made you leave him?”
“Because—well, because—.” Gorbo felt that perhaps, if she was friendly to Golithos, she might not think highly of his offer to send three arrows through his head.
Mother Meldrum went to her stool and sat thinking and thinking, with her eyes wandering from Gorbo to the children. Suddenly she gave a tremendous chuckle that made them all jump. Then she jumped up briskly and patted Sylvia on the shoulder and told her to sit down.
“And sit down, all of you,” she went on.” What are you all standing for? There are stools enough. You must be hungry too, but I’ll soon have some dinner ready. I wouldn’t like you. to go away saying that old Mother Meldrum didn’t feed you properly.”
Though they did not understand this very decided change of manner (who would?) it was very welcome. Gorbo put his bundle and his bow and arrows in a corner, and got a basin of water for the children to wash in. Then he washed his own piece of comb and gave it to Sylvia to put her hair in order, and when she had done this Joe had a turn at the comb. Tiger was put by Mother Meldrum’s advice in a little coarse basket and hung up on a hook in the ceiling, and there he sat moaning a little while the fierce black cats roamed to and fro and looked up at him with shining green eyes and sniffed as if he smelt good to them.
Dinner With a Witch
In a little while Mother Meldrum began to slap platters on the table, and into each platter she put two large ladlefuls of stewed hare, with potatoes, carrots, peas and onions, which had a most delicious smell, and told them to pitch in. A flask of wine—of a rather harsh flavour hut not bad—was placed on the table for the grown-ups, and the children were given a little taste in water. Mother Meldrum was now quite kind and considerate: when Joe spilled a lot of his stew on the table she said it didn’t matter, that these things would happen. Baldry plucked up his spirits with the good food and drink and the agreeable change of manner, and told a couple of short tales which were well received by all present; Mother Meldrum being especially tickled.
When dinner was over the bits were given to the cats, who gnawed and growled like lions, and to Tiger, who had his ration aloft in the basket. The children offered to help by washing up, and they and Baldry were soon busy outside with a small tub of water and some kitchen cloths, putting a polish on the plates and things.
“And now let’s talk,” said Mother Meldrum to Gorbo.
“You want to get back across the river. Very well, I’ll settle it for you. What’s more I’ll only charge you that horn and that measly little necklace for doing it.”
“Oh, thank you, Mum! “cried Gorbo gratefully.
“I always like to help when I can. But before I can do it you’ll have to give me a hand. I’m clean out of mandrakes, and I’ll need six or eight to work the spell, so you’ll have to go and get me some tonight, because you can only get them when the moon’s shining. The place is about a couple of miles from here.”
“I’ll bring you back a barrow load of them,” said Gorbo, who did not know what they were.” Just show me the place and—“
“Not so fast,” said the, old woman snappishly.” Mandrakes don’t grow like bluebells. You’ll likely have to, spend all the night looking for them. You see they’re little roots shaped like persons, but there’s the true mandrake and the spurious mandrake. There’s about ten thousand of the real ones to one of the others.”
“Oh l Then how do I tell the difference, Mum? “asked Gorbo.
“When you pull them up. The real ones squeak.”
“Oh!” Gorbo did not relish the idea of a night alone in the moonlight in these distressful woods, pulling up things that squeaked. But there was no way out of it.” Very well, Mum,” he said.” And what shall I do with Sylvia and Joe? “
“They can stay here with me. The funny man can stay too and look after them. Your job is to come back in the morning with at least six nice lively mandrakes. It’s rather, a swampy place where they grow, but you won’t mind that. If any things come and look at you don’t be worried, but don’t speak if you can help it because it’s best not to.”
“What sort of things? “asked Gorbo.
“Well, mostly things rather like people, only with big ears and slobbering mouths. Oh, and take a stick with you on account of the bats. As a rule they’re harmless, but they’ve been known to bite when you’re not looking—stooping and so forth. As it’s getting on to night you’d better get ready to go now, so here’s a basket. I’ll go with you and show you the place.”
Gorbo shivered and took the basket, but he did not look enthusiastic.
“None of your sulky looks!” cried the old woman with sudden fury.” Just put on those airs and I won’t do a thing for you! “
“I didn’t mean to be sulky, Mum,” said Gorbo.” I’ll go at once. You’ll—you’ll look after the little ones, won’t you? “The poor chap felt very doubtful about leaving them for the night; Baldry and he had sworn a friendship, but he did not have much belief in his power to protect them. But there really seemed no way out of it.
“That’s better,’“ said Mother Meldrum.” Yes, I’ll look after them very nicely. You come with me and, I’ll show you where they are to sleep; then you’ll feel easy in your mind.”
The Spare Bedroom
She called the others and then took a candle and went to a door in the darkest corner of the kitchen, which led to a flight of narrow stairs, and then to a dark passage above. There were two or three little closed doors on either side of the passage, but there were no windows anywhere and they had to be careful how they walked, for the floor was very uneven and at one place there were two steps up and at another three steps down. At the end it turned round a corner, and there was another door which led to another narrow flight of stairs and up to a big room, full of what seemed to be bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters, and with only one tiny window high up near the roof. She went quickly over to a door at one end of the room and slammed and locked it, as if there was something , inside that she didn’t want to come out, then she took them to another door at the other end and told them to come in.
They found themselves in a little room, dark like every other part of this horrible house, as it had only a small window half hidden by creepers and thatch. There was absolutely no furniture in it but a four-post bedstead, and a little pair of steps to use when going to bed, so high was it from the floor. From the window they could see only the gloomy tree-tops fading away in the dusk that was coming on, and a glimpse of the moon peeping out from a stormy cloud.
Sylvia stood with Tiger in one arm and held tightly to Gorbo. Baldry was doubtfully swinging his bladder stick which with the exception of his clothes was his only possession. Nobody looked cheerful except old Mother Meldrum, who wa
s quite brisk.
“Now you dear little things can go to bed at once,” she said.” There’s enough moonlight for you to see by. This funny man can have a bed in the kitchen and the Snerg will come with me for a little walk.”
“Are you going to leave us alone, Gorbo?”asked Sylvia in a whisper.
“Yes, Sylvia,” he replied, putting his arms round her, “but I’ll be back early in the morning. You see I’ve got to go and help Mother Meldrum get some things she wants to help us get across the river and back home, so you do as she says and go to sleep.”
“Oh, come along with you!” cried Mother Meldrum impatiently.” I can’t stay here all night. Tumble into bed, both of you! “
The Marvellous Land of Snergs Page 10
