An Enchanted Garden: Fairy Stories Read online

  Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

  An Enchanted GardenFairy StoriesBy Mrs MolesworthIllustrations by W.J. HennessyPublished by T. Fisher Unwin.

  An Enchanted Garden, by Mrs Molesworth.

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  ________________________________________________________________________AN ENCHANTED GARDEN, BY MRS MOLESWORTH.

  CHAPTER ONE.

  MADAM WREN.

  "No," said Alix, "that's not a good plan at all. It's perfectly stupid.If you've no better ideas than that, Rafe, we needn't talk about it anymore."

  Rafe looked and felt very snubbed indeed.

  He was ten, she was nine. But she generally took the lead; not always,as I daresay you will see when you hear more about them, but_generally_. They were a nice little pair, and they were constantlytogether, at lessons, at play, at everything. This was a convenientarrangement, for they were a good deal younger than the other brothersand sisters of the family, and what Rafe would have been without Alix,or Alix without Rafe, it would be difficult to imagine. But there isnot much use in thinking over about might-have-beens, orwould-have-beens, unless to make us more thankful for what _is_. So itis enough to say that as things really were, they were very happychildren.

  Still they had their troubles, and it was one of these they werediscussing this lovely spring morning, when they were sitting undertheir favourite tree--a magnificent ilex in the garden, at one corner ofthe great lawn which was one of the beauties of their home.

  It was a lovely day, clear and bright and joyous, full of its owndelights, and yet almost fuller of the summer ones to come! This is, Isuppose, the real secret of the charm of spring-time--the promise andhope it tells of. Everything seemed bursting with good news, the birdsmost of all perhaps, though the smiling faces of the early flowers, andthe tender whispers of the gentle wind through the branches, were notbehindhand. But the children's faces were clouded.

  This was their trouble. They could not get any one to tell them anymore stories! They had read all their books through, over and overagain, and besides, books aren't _quite_ as nice as "told" stories. Atleast not when they have to be shared by two. Rafe and Alix had triedseveral plans--reading aloud did not answer _very_ well, and lookingover the pages was worse. They never managed to keep quite together,and then the one who got down to the last line first was sure to fidgetor to try in some way to hurry up the other, which was apt to lead tounpleasant results. And besides this, at present there was no questionof story-books, for, as I said, the children had read all they possessedreally _too_ often.

  Hitherto perhaps they had been a little spoilt about having stories toldto them. Papa, who was an old soldier, had a good many tales ofadventure; mamma had some lovely ones about "when she was a littlegirl." And the big brothers and sisters were very kind too, especiallyif Rafe or Alix, or both, as sometimes was the case, happened to be ill.But their stories were mostly out of books; now and then indeed theywould unluckily turn out to be already known to the children, and thoughthey did not altogether object to them on this account--I have noticedthat children rather enjoy a book story retold by voice--it was notalways so pleasant for Ena or Jean, or Eric when he was at home fromcollege. For Rafe and Alix were so exceedingly particular.

  "No," one of them would say, just when Eric had got to the mostthrilling part of a robber story, "the entrance to the inner cave was atthe _left_ side of the big one;" or if Jean was describing her heroine'sdress, "It wasn't green--I'm sure it was blue--blue with tiny rosebudson," so that sometimes Jean would reply, "Really, children, if youinterrupt so I can't go on," or Eric would go off with a grunt and tellthem to provide stories for themselves.

  This had happened the evening before, and this it was which put the ideainto Rafe's mind which Alix snubbed so.

  "Suppose," he said, "that we make stories for each other--you for me,Alix, and I for you?"

  It sounded rather nice, but it did not find favour in her eyes at all.

  "I know exactly what they'd be," she said; "just mixings up of all ourother ones. It might do to amuse stranger children with, perhaps--butnot for us ourselves. I know all that's in your head, and you knowwhat's in mine, far too well. So it would be perfectly stupid."

  And Rafe had no more to say.

  It was Easter holidays--Easter was as late as it could be that year--andthe weather was so beautiful that it really felt like summer. You wouldthink the children should have been content; but they weren't. They hadno lessons at all to do, and a whole fortnight of nothing you reallymust do is, in my opinion, a mistake. During the long summer holidaysMiss Brander, their governess, always left them _something_ to do, justenough to give a nice fresh taste to the holidaying the rest of theirtime, and to prevent their feeling the reins _quite_ loose on theirnecks like runaway ponies. And even without this, in the summer it wasdifferent, for they generally went to the seaside or to some hilly placefor a month or so, to have a change of air, and away from home in a newplace time seldom hangs much on children's hands.

  This Easter it was certainly doing so a good deal. There were otherreasons too why the little couple felt rather at a loose end, rathertired of themselves. The big people were all unusually busy, for Enawas going to be married in June; and she and their mother or she andJean were always going somewhere or other to order things, or to givetheir opinion about the doing up of the pretty old house, ten miles orso away, which was to be her new home. And though Ena was very kindwhen she had time, and the new brother-to-be held out grand promises ofthe visits they were to pay to their sister, and the fun they shouldhave, still, all that seemed a good way off, and in the meantime Rafeand Alix felt rather out of it all. I am not sure but that they werejust a little jealous of the new brother. "It's only a pretence sort ofbrother," said Alix one day when her feelings had been ruffled. I amafraid they felt as if he had some how put both their small noses out ofjoint.

  So now you understand why Rafe and Alix were sitting ratherdisconsolately under the ilex, though the sun was shining brightlyenough to melt away all clouds and mists inside as well as outside, anyone would have thought.

  In spite of Alix's snub, Rafe looked up again in a minute or two.

  "Why don't you think of a better plan, then, if you don't like mine?" hesaid. "It's always easy to say things won't do," (which is exceedinglytrue!), "but why don't you find something that _will_ do?"

  Alix turned round. She was sitting on the end of the rustic bench,swinging her legs, which was not difficult, as they scarcely reached theground, and staring up at the thickly-growing branches overhead. Butnow she looked at Rafe--he felt a little nervous; was she going to takeoffence at his speech?

  No--she had heard what he said, but she was not vexed.

  "I know what I wish we _could_ find," she said. "Do you remember, Rafe,the story of a white lady, up, up in a room at the very top of a castlesomewhere, who was always spinning stories? They came out of the hum ofher spinning-wheel somehow, and the children could hear them when theysat down on the floor beside her. _Oh_, if we could find somebody likethat!"

  "It was fairies," said Rafe doubtfully. "At least the white lady was afairy, and there aren't any really, I suppose."

  "Everybody says so," Alix replied doubtfully, "but I don't quite see whythere mightn't be. If there have never been any, what began all thefairy stories? And I know one thing--papa said so himself one day whenhe was telling some--what's the word?--it means a sort of a fairy storythat's been told over and over since ever, _ever_ so long ago,ledge--_what_ is it?"

  "Legends, you mean," said her brother. "Yes, I remember papa telling ussome very
queer ones he had heard in India."

  "And he said there were fairy stories in _every_ country," Alix went on."So what _I_ say is there must have been something to make them begin!"

  This sounded very convincing to Rafe--Alix certainly had clever ways ofputting things.

  "Oh!" he said, with a deep sigh. "If we could but find some one oldenough to remember the beginnings of them--something like the whitelady, you know."

  Both children sat silent for a moment or two, their eyes gazing beforethem. Suddenly on the short green turf appeared a tiny figure, a wren,so tame that she hopped fearlessly to within a very short distance ofthe little brother and sister, and then, standing still, seemed to lookup at them with her bright eyes, her