CHAPTER XIV
_Mr Papingay's House in the Orange Wood_
As soon as the children entered the wood all sounds of life seemedto die away, and everything was still. No birds sang or flutteredoverhead; no little wood animals scurried through the dry, deadleaves on the ground; no breeze rustled the golden leaves on thetrees; the sun shone softly through the branches and cast a strangeorange-coloured shimmer over the scene--which accounted for the nameby which the wood was known. As Jack and Molly went along they foundthemselves talking to each other in whispers, afraid to disturb thebrooding quietness of the wood; the sound of their footsteps on thepath seemed unusually loud.
"I say, Molly, what do you say if we keep to the footpath and gostraight to Mr Papingay's house as quickly as possible and see ifit really is the Leaf? Then we can search the rest of the woodafterward--if it isn't," suggested Jack.
Molly agreed readily. Remembering that it was rumoured that the woodwas full of the Pumpkin's spies, the children had great hopes that itwas the Black Leaf in Mr Papingay's plant-pot; for the spies wouldsurely be stationed all around the place where the Black Leaf grew, toguard it.
"Thank goodness we know we can trust Mr Papingay," said Molly. "Ifwe can only find him. Oh, Jack, if only it is the Leaf, won't it besplendid!" Molly broke off and glanced over her shoulder. "How awfullyquiet everything is, Jack--just as if the wood were _listening_!... Oh!What was that!"
"It wasn't anything. Don't, Molly. You gave me quite a jump," Jack saidunsteadily, looking over his shoulder too. The light in the wood wasbeginning to fade, and under the distant trees dim shadows gathered.
"I thought I heard some twigs crackling--a snapping sound," said Molly,wide-eyed.
"Well, you needn't say so, Moll, if you did. But anyway, I'm notafraid--if you are." Nevertheless Jack quickened his pace to a sharptrot, and Molly had some difficulty in keeping up with him.
"I'm not afraid, either," she gasped.
"Nor am I," repeated Jack, and went a little faster.
Then they both began to run.
"Of course--we ought--to--get there--as quick--as--we can--so--as notto--waste--any--time," Molly jerked out, apologizing as it were toherself and to Jack for their sudden haste.
They ran along the footpath for a short distance until, a little wayahead of them, they saw an open space in the wood, in the centre ofwhich stood a house.
"Let's--stop--Molly," said Jack, breathlessly. They both pulled upand stood still for a few moments. "It wouldn't--do--for--us--to runin--on--on--him like this. It might look as if--as if we were--asif----oh, well, it would look funny, you know."
Molly agreed. So they waited until they had got their breath again,then they walked casually out into the open space. The trees stoodround the clearing in a wide circle, and above the house was a bigexpanse of sky. It seemed quite light out here after the dim light ofthe wood.
It was a queer-looking house that faced them, but what it was aboutthe house that made it queer Jack and Molly could not at first makeout. Around it was a square of asphalt, and drawing nearer they sawthat on the asphalt, all round the four sides, were rows of narrowwhite streaks, that looked like railings lying down flat; and this iswhat they actually proved to be--only they were not real railings,they were painted on the ground with white paint. The children lookedup, and then they realized what it was that made the house look funny.Nearly everything on it and about it was _not real_ but painted. Thehouse itself was real, and so was the front door; but the knocker andhandle and letter-box were all painted on. Three of the windows seemedreal, but there were three more that were obviously painted on, andwere obviously the work of some one not greatly skilled in the art ofpainting. There was a large tree painted on the asphalt, and a row oftulips, and a path bordered by painted stones that led up to the frontdoor.
The children were gazing at these things in astonishment when thefront door suddenly opened, and the owner of the house appeared on thethreshold.
"Come inside," he called affably, peering at them over the top of hisspectacles. "The latch on the gate pulls downward. Don't be afraid ofthe dog; he won't hurt you if I speak to him. There, Percy, there!Down, sir! There's a good dog!"
Jack and Molly looked round wonderingly, but could not see any signsof a dog, till their eyes caught sight of a black smudge of paint,which proved on closer acquaintance to be a black dog chained to a redkennel--both painted flat on the ground a few feet inside the gate. Thechildren gazed at each other questioningly; then Glan's words came backto them, "Humour him, he's a queer old soul."
So Molly bent down and pretended to pull the latch on the gate down;she and Jack walked carefully on to the asphalt over the flat gate,then she turned and pretended to close and latch the gate again. Asthey passed the painted dog, she had another happy idea. "Good dog.Good dog," she said, and stooped and patted the asphalt.
The old man beamed down upon her. "He's quite harmless when I tell himit's all right," he confided, "but you should just see him when he'sroused. Stand on the step and I'll tell him there's a bath-chair roundthe corner. He hates 'em."
The children could not see a real step, but spying a painted whitesquare by the front door, they stood on that.
"Now then," cried the old man, "at 'em, Percy, at 'em! There's abath-chair a-comin' round the corner!"
There was a dead silence while the painted dog gazed with unseeing eyesup at the sky, and a little breeze rustled in the tree-tops.
"Isn't he furious?" chuckled the old man, beaming proudly from the dogto the children. "Go it, old boy! Give it 'em!"
As he seemed to expect an answer to his question, Molly said:"He--he--certainly looks very fierce, doesn't he?"
"That's nothing to what he can look," said Mr Papingay, obviouslydelighted at Molly's reply. "But, come inside, come inside."
So the children entered the narrow, dark hall and Mr Papingay shut thefront door behind them.
"This way," he said, crushing past them and throwing open a door on theright. "Come inside and sit down a bit. This is my study. What do youthink of it?"
As the question was asked before Jack and Molly were inside the roomthere was naturally a short interval before Molly could reply, politely:
"What a very--er--uncommon room."
"All done by myself," said the old man, waving his hand with a sweepingmovement toward the walls.
The children followed the hand-sweep and saw rows upon rows of bookspainted round the walls. There was no doubt about them being painted.And they noticed also that the carpet, chairs, tables, curtains, andeven the fireplace were all painted in this amazing room. Jack's eyestravelled rapidly over the room, but not a single real thing couldhe see in it except himself, and Molly, and the old man standing infront of him; and he looked at the latter twice to make sure that hewas real and not simply made of paint like the other things. But MrPapingay was real enough with his spectacles and bald head. The onlyhair he possessed grew like a fringe at the back of his head, low down,just above the nape of his neck--and under his chin a little fringe ofwhiskers appeared; he had round, blue eyes and eyebrows set high thatgave him a look of continual surprise; over a dark-coloured suit hewore a brown plaid dressing-gown, with long cord and tassels, and onhis feet were a pair of very old red felt carpet slippers. And thenJack's roving eye noticed that the buttons on his dressing-gown werepainted on; but that was the only bit of paint about Mr Papingay.
"You see, it's so handy making my own things," he was explaining toMolly. "I can have any kind of things I like and change them as oftenas I like."
"Don't you find the chairs rather awkward to sit on?" inquired Jack.
"Not at all. Why should I?" replied the old man, slightly offended.
"Well--I--er--well, you see--they're not real, are they?" Jackblundered on.
"Not real! What do you mean?" snapped Mr Papingay. "Of course they'rereal. Sit on one and see."
"Don't be silly, Jack," Molly broke in. "They certainly look mostcomfortable. I do think it is
clever of you to make them," she said tothe old man.
"Oh, no, no. Not at all. Simple enough," said Mr Papingay airily,appeased at once. "But you try one. They may look comfortable, but it'snothing to what they are to sit on. You try one," he urged.
So Molly pretended to sit down on one of the painted chairs. It was amost curious sensation. Although she knew there was no chair there shefelt somehow as if she really were sitting on a chair; so that when theold man asked her, with a self-conscious smile on his face, "Now, isn'tit comfortable?" she could answer truthfully, "Yes, it really is."
Yet, afterward, Jack told her that he had tried one of the chairs whenshe and the old man were not looking, and had nearly fallen on thefloor. "I found it anything but comfortable--the silly old ass," hesaid.
When they had admired the study to the old man's content he led themout into the hall again and up the stairs to a curious little room hecalled his visitors room. As they went upstairs Molly tried to telltheir host who they were and how they knew Glan and his father, but hekept up a constant stream of conversation himself and took no notice ofher remarks.
The children found the visitors room more difficult than ever to betruthful and yet polite in. It had been hard to pretend the paintedstair-carpet was soft and real, and that the books in the study couldbe taken out and read; but these things were nothing compared to thedifficulties in the visitors room. It was a small, high-ceilingedroom, furnished with painted chairs and tables; only, in addition tothe painted furniture were painted people. Round the walls and on thefloor, people standing, people sitting, ladies, gentlemen, girls andboys; some with hats on as if paying an afternoon call, some with hatsoff as if they had come to spend the day. But one and all, withoutexception, were simply painted people. On the panes of one of the realwindows was painted the figure of a sandy-haired man, back view; thisgentleman, who was dressed in a dull grey suit and a high white collar,was apparently looking out of the window.
ONE AND ALL WERE SIMPLY PAINTED PEOPLE]
As the children glanced round at these queer silent people,hesitating what to do, they became aware that the old man was murmuringsome kind of introduction to a painted lady in bright purple.
"This is my dear friend, Mrs Pobjoy," he was saying. "Mrs Pobjoy, allowme to introduce you to my two little friends--er--what are your names,by the way?"
The children told him, and took this opportunity of explaining who theywere and how they knew Glan.
"Dear me, dear me!" said Mr Papingay. "How very extraordinary!" andhe shook hands affably, and then he introduced them to Mr Pobjoy--ared-faced gentleman painted on the wall beside his wife.
Molly bowed politely. "I'm very pleased to meet you," she said, andgave Jack a nudge with her elbow.
"Howjer do?" said Jack, feeling an awful ass.
The painted lady in bright purple stared vacantly down at the twochildren.
"Mrs Pobjoy's always delighted to see new faces, aren't you, ma'm?Ah, ha! A regular butterfly. A regular butterfly. What do you say,Pobjoy?" and Mr Papingay gave the painted figure of Mr Pobjoy a digin the ribs, then turned from one to the other of his painted visitorschattering and laughing, and shaking his head. "And here's littleMaudie. Well, and how is Maudie to-day?" and he stooped and playfullyflicked the cheeks of a fat-faced little girl with yellow hair anda pink frock who was leaning against a painted sideboard. "Here's alittle girl to see you, Maudie. You'll like that, won't you?" He turnedto the children. "I'm afraid she's rather peevish this evening. She issometimes. It's best to take no notice--she'll come round presently.Here's Mr Waffer, here by the window--I won't introduce you to him justat present, he's probably just got an inspiration I should think, bythe way he stands absorbed in the scenery outside. He's a poet, youknow.... But come over here and let Lizzie and her sister see you." Hebundled away across the room followed by the two children.
"I say, Molly," whispered Jack, "do you think we should see the frontof Mr Waffer through the window if we went outside and looked up. I_would_ like to see his face."
"Why?" asked Molly with interest.
"Because I don't believe he has one. Do remind me to look as we goout," said Jack.
"This," the old man was saying as they came up to him, "is Lizzie andhere's her sister. Very bright girls, both of them," he added in anundertone so that the green-frocked Lizzie should not hear. And sohe moved on introducing them to one after the other, and it began tolook as if he would never tear himself away from the visitors room. Atlength Molly told him that they would not be able to stay much longeras they wished to get out of the Orange Wood before darkness came down.
"Oh, you mustn't go yet," he protested. "I've got a lot more to showyou yet.... Ah! and that reminds me.... But first you must come andsee my kitchen arrangements; they are absolutely first-rate; andthen I have something very exciting to tell you." He nodded his headmysteriously.
Jack and Molly exchanged significant glances. As they followed himdownstairs it struck them that although he was introducing them toeverything and everybody in his house, yet he had never troubled tointroduce himself. He had forgotten about that. He led the way to thekitchen, and the children noticed, in passing, a servant carrying atray, painted on the passage wall a few yards from the kitchen door.("How tiresome it must be for her never to get any farther," thoughtMolly, but she didn't say anything.)
The kitchen was very like the other rooms, nearly all paint. It worriedMolly a little to notice that the sink was painted on the wall, and shewondered however Mr Papingay managed to wash up the cups and saucers inthe tin bowl that was painted inside the sink; especially as the tapsand cups and saucers appeared to be real. But she was afraid to ask anyquestions in case it delayed the "exciting" news that they were longingto hear.
A quick glance at the kitchen window sill on entering the room showedthem that there was no plant-pot there now. After Mr Papingay hadtaken them a tour of the kitchen and they had admired everything fromthe oven with the painted round of beef on the shelf to the paintedegg-whisk hanging on the dresser, their host bade them be seated on abench by the kitchen window--which happened to be a real bench, much toJack's relief--and then he said:
"There is something I think you ought to know." He shut the kitchendoor carefully so that the servant painted in the passage should nothear, while the children's hearts began to beat rapidly. Mr Papingaycame back and stood before them.
"The Grey Pumpkin has returned to this land," he said solemnly, thenwaited for the exclamations of amazement which did not come.
"Of course, we know," said Jack, after a short pause.
Mr Papingay looked both surprised and offended. "Why, how's this?" heasked.
And the children told him, and explained about the search they weremaking.
"Well, well, well," he said at length. "I've been searching for theBlack Leaf too. I searched every inch of the Orange Wood thoroughly,directly I heard the Pumpkin was back again. _And_--this is what Ireally wanted to tell you--what do you think I did when I found thatthe Black Leaf wasn't anywhere in the wood?" he asked excitedly.
"What?" cried both children together.
"Painted a Black Leaf," he said triumphantly, beaming with joy. "Andhere it is."
He opened a cupboard door behind him and disclosed a plant-pot (whichwas real) in which grew a black leaf (which was painted). In fact itwas so entirely artificial that it wasn't even a real leaf colouredblack: it was cut out of newspaper, and painted with a thick blackpaint.
Jack and Molly did not speak for a moment or two. They could not. Theywere so thoroughly disappointed. Had they wasted all this valuable time'humouring' Mr Papingay for nothing more than this? They had hardlyrealized how high their hopes had been, until now, when they were flungto the ground. It was with an effort that Molly kept back her tears; asfor Jack, he felt he would like to kick something.
Meanwhile, Mr Papingay was perplexed at their silence. He lifted thepot down and set it on the floor in front of the bench.
"Well, what do you think o
f it?" he asked.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Jack.
"I will tell you," said Mr Papingay. "I have decided that you shallhave the leaf and take it back to the City. I was wondering, onlyyesterday, whom I could send it by. It isn't time for my yearly visitto the City yet, and besides, Percy has rather a nasty little cough--Ican't leave him till he's better, poor old chap."
"But it won't be--be the same as the real Black Leaf," said Jack.
"Why not? Why not?" asked the old man touchily.
"Well--it isn't magic, is it?" objected Jack. "It won't have any powerover the Pumpkin."
"I won't guarantee that it isn't magic, though it may not have the samepower over the Pumpkin," the old man admitted. "But what's the odds!They won't know--the people won't know--and anyway it's very handsometo look at--and just think of how surprised everybody will be...."
The children could see that it was no use arguing the matter. MrPapingay was beginning to look quite hurt and annoyed, and so to humourhim and to save any further delay the children thanked him and saidthey would be pleased to take it with them. (They little guessed thenhow glad they would be later on that they had taken it with them.)
"It's very clever of you to make it," said Molly.
Immediately Mr Papingay's ill-humour vanished, and he smiled down atthe leaf in an affectionate manner.
"Oh, I don't know about being clever," he said. "Well--it's not a badpiece of work," he admitted modestly.
"Well now--I think we really must be going," said Molly, "or else itwill be too dark in the wood for us to find our way. Shall we pick theleaf and take it with us, then?"
"It looks so well in the pot--I like it best in the pot--take theplant-pot, too," said Mr Papingay. "I shall be coming to the City in afew days and then you must tell me all about it--what the people saidwhen they saw it and--I suppose you _are_ going straight back to theCity?" he inquired. "You won't want to bother to search for the otherBlack Leaf now, until you see what the people say to this one, I'msure."
Self-centred Mr Papingay! He actually thought the children would bemore anxious to hear what people said about his leaf, than to continuetheir search for the real Leaf. But the children were quite determinedabout continuing their work and at length made him understand that theymust go on; but they were hoping, they said, to return to the Cityshortly when they would be very pleased to show his leaf. Mr Papingaycheered up a bit at this, and said they had better take it then, asthey would be bound to reach the City before him. Then he asked themwhere they were going to search next.
"You needn't bother about this wood--I've searched it from end to end,thoroughly--as I told you. And besides," said Mr Papingay, "it isn'twise to linger in this wood just now. The Pumpkin has spies about allover the place. Of course, they never touch me--Percy wouldn't letthem--but you two--! And I'm quite certain the Leaf isn't in thiswood--or I'd have had it before now."
The children had not much faith in Mr Papingay's careful searching, butglancing through the window they saw that it was now getting too darkto search the wood that night. They had better get out of it as quicklyas possible, even if they had to return and search it in the morning.
They became aware of Mr Papingay murmuring something in the way ofan apology for not asking them to stay over night there--but he wasalready overcrowded with visitors, the Pobjoys and others, he said.He knew of a nice little farmhouse outside the wood where they wouldbe comfortable. The children were pleased to know of the farmhouse;not for worlds would they have spent a night in this silent wood.Mr Papingay was so careless, he would be sure to leave a windowunfastened, and the Pumpkin's spies would creep out from the trees andget into the house. At least, this is what the children felt, but theythanked Mr Papingay and told him not to apologize at all as they reallycouldn't stay, but must go along.
"I'll tell you what, then," said Mr Papingay. "I'll just get my lanternand come along with you and show you the quickest way out of the woodto the farmhouse."
The children were much relieved at this, feeling that company and alight in the dusky wood before them was an unexpected blessing. Aftera great deal of fuss and bustle he found his lantern and escortedthem through the front door--calling some final words of instructionto Percy (who remained gazing pensively up at the evening sky); theypassed through the gate, or rather, stepped off the asphalt, andstarted out. Mr Papingay insisted on carrying his plant-pot and leafuntil he should have to part with it at the end of the wood; so withthis under his left arm, and his lantern swinging in his right hand hestrode ahead of the children, crying cheerily:
"Come along, come along. I'll show you a short cut out of the wood. Ah!I'm glad I brought my lantern--it'll be dark enough in some parts ofthe wood."
The children followed, gazing with puzzled expressions at his lantern.Then they understood. There would be no light from it in the darkestparts of the wood, for it was only a painted lantern.