An Enchanted Garden: Fairy Stories

by Mrs. Molesworth

tell--he had already flownaway.

  CHAPTER NINE.

  THE CHRISTMAS SURPRISE.

  For some days the story of the bewitched Princess gave Rafe and Alixenough to talk about, and to play at too, for they invented a game inwhich Alix was supposed to fall into an enchanted sleep if Rafesucceeded in touching her with a branch of leaves, which representedsnowflakes; and as she was a very quick runner it was not so easy as itsounds.

  Besides, by this time the Easter holidays were over and lessons hadbegun again. The children had not _too_ many lessons, however, andalways a good part of the afternoon to themselves, and they remainedfaithful to the old garden as their favourite playground. So some hoursof every day--of every fine day at least--were spent there, and thoughthey had not seen the old caretaker a second time, nor ever managed tofind the concealed door in the rough stone wall again, hunt for it asthey would, still they had sometimes a queer, mysterious, pleasantfeeling that she knew about them--knew they were there, and was perhapseven peeping out at them through some hidden hole.

  It would have been a great sorrow to them if they had had to give uptheir visits to the garden. But fortunately their nurse rather approvedof their playing there. There was something that brought good luck withit about the Lady wood grounds. No ill-chance ever happened to themthere, no tumbles or sprained ankles, or torn clothes, or such notuncommon misfortunes when children are by themselves. Best of all, theyalmost never quarrelled when in the old garden, and perhaps _that_ had agood deal to do with the keeping clear of other troubles.

  They were growing "quite to be trusted," nurse told their mother, and itscarcely seemed needful for them to go regular walks now, which nursewas very glad of, as it left her free to get on nicely with all theneedlework, in which--next to a baby, and there had been no new babysince Alix--her heart delighted.

  So the discovery of the pleasures of the deserted manor suitedeverybody.

  But after a while, the children began to think it was time to haveanother story, and to wonder if their old friend had forgotten them, orpossibly gone away. There was no use hunting any more for the hiddendoor; they had hurt their fingers and tired themselves to no purpose indoing so already. And at last they came to the conclusion that if MrsCaretaker didn't want them to find it, it was no use trying, and that ifshe _did_, she would soon find ways and means of fetching them.

  "Unless, of course," said Alix, "she has gone. Perhaps she's like thebirds, you know--only turned the other way. I mean perhaps she goes offin the summer, once she's started everything, and all the plants andthings _are_ growing beautifully now, in their wild way. You see she'snot like a regular trim gardener--she doesn't want them to grow allproperly like you can see anywhere."

  "Still she must take great care of them somehow," said Rafethoughtfully, "for you know people often notice how few weeds there areabout Ladywood, and in full summer the wild flowers are quite wonderful.And the birds--it's always here the nightingales are heard the best."

  Alix looked up. They were sitting in their favourite place, at the footof some very tall trees.

  "If we'd had any sense," she said, "we might almost have seen forourselves long ago that there was something fairy about the place, evenbefore the wren led us here."

  The mention of the wren made her remember something she had noticed.

  "Rafe," she went on, "do you know I've seen a little robin hopping aboutus the last day or two, and chirping in a _talking_ sort of way. Iforgot to tell you. I wonder if he has anything to say to us, for youknow there were _two_ birds that wanted to tell us stories."

  "Per--" began Rafe in his slow fashion.

  But before he had time to get to "haps" his sister caught hold of hisarm.

  "Hush!" she whispered, "there he is."

  Yes, there he was, and "he" _was_ a robin.

  He hopped about in front of them for a minute or two, now and thencocking his head on one side and looking at them over his shoulder, asit were, as if to see whether he had caught their attention. Then heflew up a little way, and settled himself on a branch not far from them,with a peculiar little chirp.

  "I believe," said Alix, still in a whisper, "I believe he wants us tospeak to him."

  "Try," replied Rafe.

  "Robin," said Alix, clearly though softly, "robin, have you come to seeus? Have you got a message for us from Mrs Caretaker, perhaps?"

  The bird looked at her reproachfully. I don't know that she could seeit was _reproachfully_, but from the way he held his head it was plainto any one that he was not altogether pleased.

  Then came a succession of chirps, and gradually, just as had happenedbefore, by dint of listening very attentively and keeping quite, quitequiet, bits of words and then words themselves began to grow out of thechirping. To tell the truth, if any one had passed that way, he or shewould have imagined Rafe and Alix were asleep. For there they sat, likea picture of the babes in the wood--Alix's head resting on her brother'sshoulder, and his arm thrown round her--_quite_ motionless. But theyweren't asleep, of course, for their two pairs of eyes were fixed on thelittle red-breasted fellow up above them.

  "So you had forgotten all about me," in a melancholy tone, quite unlikea cheery little robin. "I gave up to that other fellow and let him tellhis story first. I suppose you don't care to hear mine."

  "Oh, dear robin, of course we do," said Alix. "But you see we didn'tunderstand."

  "I've been following you about all these days. I'm sure you might haveseen me, and I've been asking you over and over again if you didn't wantto listen."

  "But you see, dear robin, we couldn't understand what you said. Ittakes a good while to get used to--to your way of speaking, you know,"said Alix. She was desperately afraid of hurting his feelings stillmore.

  "I am afraid that is not the real reason. You think a robin's story issure to be stupid. You see I am not one of those fine travelledfellows--the swallows and the martins, and all the rest of them--whospend the winter in the south and know such a lot of the world. I'monly a home bird. Here I was hatched and here I have lived, and mean tolive till I die. It's quite true that my story is a very stupid one.I've made no fine acquaintances such as kings and queens and princesses,and I've never visited at court, north or south either, so you know whatyou have to expect."

  He seemed rather depressed, but less offended than he had been.

  "Please begin," said Rafe. "I'm sure we shall like your story. Wedon't want always to hear the same kind." The robin cleared his throat.

  "Such as it is," he began, "I can vouch for the truth of it, as ithappened to be my own self. I didn't `have it' from any one else. Andin my own mind I have given it the name of `The Christmas Surprise.'"

  And after he had cleared his throat again for the last time, he wentstraight on.

  "I have often noticed," he began, "that whatever we have not got,whatever is not ours or with us at the present moment, is the thing weprize the most. This applies both to birds and human beings, and it isoften the case about the seasons of the year. There is a great charmabout absence. In the winter we are always looking forward to thespring and the summer; in the hot summer we think of the cool shady daysof autumn, of the cheerful fires and merry doings that come withChristmas. I am speaking especially of men and women and children justnow, but there is a good deal of the same kind of thing among us birds,though you mightn't think it. And of all birds, I think we robins havethe most sympathy with human folk. We really love Christmas time; it isgratifying to know how much we are thought of at that season--how ourportraits are sent about by one friend to another, how our figures areplaced on your Christmas trees, and how every one thinks of us withkindness. And except by _very_ thoughtless people we are generallycared for well. During a hard winter it is seldom that our wants areforgotten. I myself," and here he plumed himself importantly, "I myselfhave been most fortunate in this respect. There are at least a dozenhouses within easy flight of Ladywood where I am always sure of a goodbreakfast of crumbs."r />
  "But," began Alix, rather timidly, "please don't mind my interruptingyou, but doesn't Mrs Caretaker look after you? I thought that was whatshe was here for, to take care of all the living creatures in thisgarden."

  "Exactly so, exactly so," said the robin, hastily, "far be it from me tomake any complaint. I would not change my home for the garden of apalace. But, as I have said, I think we robins have much sympathy withyour race. Human beings interest me extremely. I like to study theircharacters. So I go about in my own part of the country a good deal,and thus I know the ways of many of my wingless neighbours prettyintimately. Thus comes