Mettle, the blacksmith’s yellow terrier was doing a job on his own; opening the links in a dog chain. Another dog was blowing the bellows. They greeted Sandy, “Come along and warm yourself at the hearth, Sandy!” “I’m in a hurry, I cannot wait. And you must come with me, Mettle. Poor old Billy is fast in the Pound.” “Whew-w!” whistled Mettle. He damped down the fire, gathered up some tools, and they hurried off together.
Pony Billy was dozing in the Pinfold. He was awakened by the sound of sniffing and scratching under the door; something was being done to the padlock. Within a few minutes he was free; trotting back towards the village with the dogs racing at his heels. When the constable came next morning, the mysterious pony had vanished. The Pinfold was empty.
“So you see, Tuppenny,” said Xarifa, “it is most important to carry fern seed when we go upon the roads, and pass near the Big Folks; and you must always take great care that it is not lost.”
CHAPTER V
The Misses Pussycats’ Shop
While the caravaners were encamped in the quarry, Sandy had gone shopping to the market town. It was an old-fashioned town with funny crooked streets and little old squares hidden away round corners; there were archways opening under houses, leading from square to square. Sandy made several small purchases at the grocer’s and at the saddler’s. But his most important piece of shopping was to buy something pretty to make a costume for Tuppenny, who was worthy of considerable outlay by way of dressing up. His remarkable hair, and the rarity of guinea-pigs, combined to make him an acquisition to the circus company. “Choose something bright and fanciful; I will shape it and sew it. And pray remember hairpins!” said the Dormouse Xarifa, who was clever with her needle. So Sandy in the course of his shopping paid a visit to the milliner’s.
The Misses Matilda and Louisa Pussycat kept shop in a tiny steep three-storied house, with an overhanging upper floor. Each floor came forward over the story below; it made the shop rather dark for matching ribbons.
In the attic Matilda Pussycat, leaning out of the window, could talk to Tabby Whitefoot across the way, at the staircase window of the post office opposite. The street door opened down a step into the house. On the right-hand side of the passage was a tiny parlour, containing a polished mahogany table and three chairs with horse-hair seats. On a side table were the tea tray and the best tea service, and some shells and coral under a bell glass. By the fireplace were two wicker chairs with pink cushions. Some black silhouette portraits of cat ancestors hung on the wall; and on the mantelpiece stood a pot snuffbox figure, shaped like an owl. Its head took off, and the box body contained pins and buttons; not snuff. The muslin curtains were spotlessly white.
On the other side of the passage was the milliner’s shop, and a dark little kitchen behind it. The Misses Pussycats lived principally in the kitchen. It was well supplied with the usual assortment of pots and pans, shelves, milk jugs, crooks for hanging things, a deal table, stools, and a corner cupboard. The only unusual feature in the kitchen was a small window under the plate rail. This window did not look out of doors like other windows; it looked into the shop. If a customer came in, Miss Louisa Pussycat applied her eye to the window, to see who it was. Once when she looked through, she saw a duck who had come into the shop without quacking.
Sandy came in from the street and lifted the latch of the shop door; it had a tinkling bell – “Bow, wow! Shop there! Bow wow!” barked Sandy, rapping on the counter. Miss Louisa Pussycat’s eye appeared at the little window. She put on a clean apron and came in behind the counter. “Good morning, Mr. Alexander! I hope I see you well? What can I have the pleasure of showing you?” “First rate, Miss Louisa! And how’s yourself and Miss Matilda this cold weather?” “I am very well, I thank you, Mr. Sandy; but I regret to say that my sister, Miss Matilda Pussycat has neuralgia. A fishbone, Mr. Sandy, a fishbone embedded between her wisdom teeth; it has caused a gumboil or abscess, accompanied by swelling. She has eaten nothing but slops for a fortnight.” “That would disagree with me,” said Sandy. “Indeed, my poor sister Matilda is becoming as ‘thin as a cat’s lug,’ [29] as the saying is. But the spring fashions are a great divertissement and alleviation, Mr. Sandy. See here what a sweet thing in collars, Mr. Sandy; and these neckties and tabby muslins – quite the latest from Catchester. Is it for yourself or for a lady, Mr. Alexander?” “Well, it’s for a guinea-pig, to tell you the truth, Miss Louisa.” “A guinea-pig! is that a species of wild boar, Mr. Sandy? Does it bite?” “No, no! A most genteel and timid little animal, Miss Louisa. He is going to play in our circus, and we want to dress him up; something bright coloured and tasty—”
“WE CAN SUPPLY EVERY REQUISITE ARTICLE OF APPAREL.”
“I feel confident that we can supply every requisite article of apparel. What is his complexion? And what character will he impersonate?” inquired Miss Louisa Pussycat; she liked long words. “He is lemon and white. We thought of calling him the Sultan of Zanzibar. How about a bandana pocket handkerchief? Can you show me any?” “Excellent. We have a choice selection. Scarlet and gold would become him admirably. And permit me to suggest a yellow sash and a green turban; quite the height of fashion,” said Miss Louisa Pussycat, opening cardboard boxes and unwrapping packages. “I don’t think a turban would stick on, he has such a lot of hair. We were going to roll it up on the top of his head, with a hatpin stuck through it. By the bye, that reminds me, I am forgetting hairpins – hairpins with a bend in them, Miss Louisa; he has difficulty in doing up his hair.” “Dear me, how remarkable! Cannot he have it shingled? But it would be bad for trade. You would be surprised how the sale of hairpins has diminished; we are seldom asked for them.” Miss Louisa clattered open numbers of little drawers behind the counter in search of hairpins. Finally she called through the window into the kitchen – “Sister! Sister Matilda! Where are the hairpins?” “Miaw! miaw! oh, bother!” moaned Miss Matilda, “I put them away in the attic; they are never wanted.” She was heard climbing the staircase.
Sandy chose a scarlet, gold and chocolate coloured pocket handkerchief, and a green sash ribbon. “Allow me to recommend the purchase of this hatpin with a glass knob; it will shimmer in the sunshine like a diamond,” said Miss Louisa, who was greatly interested in the Sultan’s costume.
Miss Matilda came downstairs with a packet of hairpins. “Here! take them. Mi-i-a-ow! Oh, my poor mouth!” Her face was swelled like a cabbage, and she had a strip of red flannel pinned round her head. “Let me look at it; I have had experience of bones sticking fast,” said Sandy. “If I were sure you would not scratch me, I believe I could get it out.” “Indeed, I should be thankful; she mews all night,” said Miss Louisa Pussycat. “I’ll scratch both of you if you touch me,” said Matilda. “Matilda, this is folly. Open your mouth.” “Louisa, I won’t,”replied Matilda. “Oh, all right; please yourself,” said Sandy. “Will you make out my bill, Miss Louisa.” “Let me see – half a yard of ribbon at 9 peppercorns a yard, 4½. One crystal hatpin, 7 peppercorns; one pocket handkerchief, 11 peppercorns; that makes 22½ peppercorns.” “Miaw! You have forgotten to charge for the hairpins, Louisa.” “Hairpins, 1½ peppercorns. That gets rid of the half. Small change is troublesome, is it not, Mr. Alexander? Twenty-four peppercorns exactly, thank you.”
“By the bye, what is the smallest size you stock in fancy slippers, Miss Louisa?” “Kitten quarter two’s, Mr. Sandy,” said Miss Louisa, reaching up towards the top shelf. “I’m afraid that would be too large; no, don’t trouble please to get them down; I know they would be too large, Miss Louisa.”
At this point Miss Matilda again mewed dismally, “Miaw! mi-a-aw! Oh, my poor face.” “I am out of patience with that wearisome fishbone. Sister, why will you not allow our obliging customer to examine it?” “What do you want me to do?” asked Matilda crossly. “Put on these wash-leather gloves so that you cannot scratch; sit back in this chair – so – now open your mouth.” Matilda opened it wide with the intention of spitting at them. Instantly Miss Louisa wedged a spoon between her jaws. “Quick, Mr. Sandy! Get the sugar tongs off the tea tray in the parlour. That’s it! Quick, before she scratches us! She is kicking her slippers off to scratch!” After a brief struggle Sandy held up the fishbone in the sugar tongs, while Matilda Pussycat made loud howls. “Indeed, Mr. Sandy, the firm is under a great obligation to you; she had not trimmed one hat during the last fortnight; besides disturbing my rest. Pray do us the favour to accept this short length of blue ribbon, which I will enclose in your parcel as a present from us both.” “Speak for yourself, Sister, I hate dogs!” said Matilda Pussycat, spitting and sputtering. “Good morning, Mr. Alexander.” “Good morning, Misses Pussycats.” And so Sandy was bowed out at the front door with his parcel. It was quite three days before the swelling disappeared; and when the Misses Pussycats had friends to tea next Saturday, the sugar tongs were discovered to be somewhat bent.
Sandy’s purchases were much approved by the rest of the circus company; especially the hatpin.
CHAPTER VI
Little Mouse
Xarifa the dormouse sat upon a hazel twig that lay upon the moss; she stitched busily. She was making the gold and scarlet pocket handkerchief into a robe for Tuppenny. Tuppenny sat opposite to the dormouse, holding two sides of the handkerchief while she sewed them together. “It is a long seam, Xarifa.” “Shall I tell you a story to pass the time?” “That would be lovely, Xarifa.” “Let me see, what shall it be? I will tell you about Little Mouse.” “Who was Little Mouse, Xarifa?” “I don’t know, Tuppenny; she was just a little mouse, and she was asked to a wedding. And she said ‘What shall I wear? What shall I wear? There is a hole in my old gray gown, and the shops are shut on a Wednesday.’ (You see, Tuppenny, it was the day before the wedding and the shops were not open.) So she said – ‘What shall I wear? What shall I wear?’
“AN OLD BUFF-GREEN STRIPED CATERPILLAR MAN.”
And while Little Mouse was wondering there came to the door of her little house an old buff green-striped caterpillar man, with a band across his shoulder and a pack upon his back. And he sang, ‘Any tape, any buttons, any needles, any pins? Any hooks, any eyes, any silver safety-pins? Any ribbons, any braid, any thread of any shade, any fine spotty muslin today, M’mm?’ He turned the band over his head and stood the pack open on the doorstep, and showed Little Mouse his wares. And she bought fine spotty muslin from the caterpillar man. Little Mouse spread the muslin on her table, and she cut out a mob-cap and tippet. Then she said ‘I have scissors and thimble and needles and pins; but no thread. How shall I sew it? How shall I sew it?’
“Then by good luck there came to the door of her house a hairy brown spider with eight little eyes. He, too, had a pack, a tin box on his back; and his name was Webb Spinner. He sang ‘Spinneret, spinneret! the best you can get! Reels and bobbins, bobbins and reels! White thread and black, the best in my pack! Come buy from Webb Spinner!’ So Little Mouse bought white thread, and she sewed her cap and tippet. (Hold it straight please, Tuppenny.)
“And while Little Mouse was sewing, a large moth came to the door, selling – ‘Silk, spun silk! Silk spun fine! Woven by the silk moth, who’ll buy silk of mine?’ Her silk was apple-green, shot with thread of gold and silver; and she had gold cord, and silken tassels, too. Little Mouse bought silk enough to make herself a gown, and she trimmed it with gold cord and tassels.
“And when she was dressed, attired all in her best, she said – ‘How can I dance? how can I dance with the Fair Maids of France, with my little bare feet?’
“Then the wind blew the grass and whispered in the leaves; and the fairies brought Little Mouse a pair of lady’s slippers. And Little Mouse danced at the wedding.”
“That is lovely, Xarifa,” said Tuppenny, “I would have liked to see the dancing. Who were the Fair Maids of France, Xarifa?” “Little prim white flowers with white double ruffs and green stockings.” “And the lady’s slippers, were they flowers, too?” “Yes, Tuppenny; and so are the Lambs’ toes, and Lady’s smocks, and Fox gloves.” “Do foxes wear gloves, Xarifa?” “Perhaps. But their real name is folk’s gloves; fairy gloves. The good folk, the fairies, wear them.” “Tell me about the fairies, Xarifa.” “Another time I will, Tuppenny; my seam is finished, and Jenny Ferret is boiling the kettle for tea.”
CHAPTER VII
Springtime in Birds’ Place
Spring advanced. The caravan wandered along green ways. Primroses were peeping out at the edge of the coppice; the oaks showed a tinge of gold; the wild cherry trees were snow-white with blossom. Beech trees and sycamores were bursting into leaf; only the ash trees remained bare as in midwinter. The ash is the last to don her green gown, and the first to lose her yellow leaves; a short-lived summer lady. On the topmost bare branch of an ash sat a throstle, singing loud and clear – so clear that he seemed to sing words. “Fly here! fly here! fly here! Will-he-do-it? Will he do it?” shouted the throstle: “Come bob-a-link, come bob-a-link! Sky high! Sky high! so – so – so.” “Oh greenwood tree sweet pretty lea!” warbled a blackbird softly. “Spring is here! is here!” shouted the throstle, on his tree top.
Xarifa and Tuppenny sat listening on a sunny bank below: “Birds; sweet singers all! The coppice is full of birds. Hark to the blackbird in the hawthorn; see his yellow bill. Now he pauses, waiting for an answering blackbird, far away in the wood. It reminds me of Birds’ Place in spring.” “Where is Birds’ Place, Xarifa?” “Listen while he sings his song again.” The blackbird sang. A soft cloud dimmed the sunshine; a few large raindrops fell. The birds interrupted their singing and flew down onto the grass; all except little Dykey Sparrow, singing to his wife, while she sat on her blue speckled eggs.
“Where is Birds’ Place, Xarifa?” “Birds’ Place that I remember was in Hertfordshire, long ago when I was young. Perhaps the elms and chestnuts have been felled; the passing swallows say the cedar is blown down. Birds’ Place had been the garden of an old, old manor house. No brick, no stone was standing; but still the straggling damask roses bloomed, and garden flowers grew amongst the tall untidy grass. Currant and gooseberry bushes had run wild in the thicket; they bore the sweetest little berries that the blackbirds loved. No one pruned the bushes, or netted them against the birds; no one except birds gathered the strawberries that were scarcely larger than wild white strawberries of the woods. It was a paradise of birds.
“The outer side of the grove was bounded by a high close-latticed wooden fence, gray green and lichen grown; with rusty nails along the top, that kept out village boys and cats. Birds and butterflies and flowers lived undisturbed in that pleasant green wilderness that had once been a garden. And in the middle of the mossy grass plot stood the glory of the garden – the great cedar. Its head towered high above the self-sown saplings of the grove; its wide spreading lower branches lay along the mossy grass, where orange-tip butterflies flitted, and red-tailed velvety bees gathered honey from the cowslip flowers.