CHAPTER XIV
Why had Miss Royle, sly reptile that she was, scuttled away without somuch as a good-by?
"Oh, dear!" sighed Gwendolyn; "just as soon as one trouble's finished,another one starts!"
"We must get on her track!" declared the Policeman, patroling to and froanxiously.
"And let's hurry," urged the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. "It's coming night inthe City. And all these lights'll be needed soon."
Very soon, indeed. For even as he spoke it happened--with a sharp click.Instantly the pink glow was blotted out. As suddenly thick blacknessshut down.
Except straight ahead! There Gwendolyn made out an oblong patch of skyin which were a few dim stars.
"Never mind," went on the little old gentleman, soothingly. "Becausewe're close to the place where there's light all the time."
"_All_ the time?" repeated Gwendolyn, surprised.
"It's where light grows."
"_Grows?_"
"Well, it's where _candle_-light grows."
"Candle-light!" she cried. "You mean--! Oh, it's where my fath-ercomes!"
"Sometimes."
"Will he be there now?"
"Only the Bird can tell us that."
Then she understood Jane's last gasping admonition--"Get you-know-whatout of the way! A certain person mustn't talk to it! If she does she'llfind--"
It was the Doctor's hand that steadied her as she hurried forward in thedarkness. It was a big hand, and she was able to grasp only two fingersof it. But that clinging hold made her feel that their friendship wasestablished. She was not at all surprised at her complete change ofattitude toward him. It seemed to her now as if he and she had alwaysbeen on good terms.
The others were near. She could hear the _tinkle-tankle_ of the Piper'spipes, the scuff of Puffy's paws, the labored breathing of the littleold gentleman as he trudged, the heavy tramp, tramp of the Policeman.She made her bare feet travel as fast as she could, and kept her looksteadily ahead on the dim stars.
And saw, moving from one to another of them, in quick darts--now up,now down--a small Something. She did not instantly guess what itwas--flitting across that half-darkened sky. Until she heard the wildbeating of tiny pinions!
"Why, it's a bird!" she exclaimed.
"A bird?" repeated the Policeman, all eagerness.
"Must be _the_ Bird!" declared the Man-Who-Makes-Faces, triumphantly.
It was. Even in the poor light her eager eyes made out the bumps on thatsmall feathered head. And saw that on the down-drooping tail, nicelybalanced, and gleaming whitely, was a lump.
Remembering what she had heard about that bit of salt, she ran forward.At her approach, his wings half-lifted. And as she reached out to him,pointing a small finger, he sprang sidewise, alighting upon it.
"Oh, I'm glad you've come!" he panted.
He was no larger than a canary; and seemed to be brown--a sparrow-brown.Prejudiced against him she had been. He had tattled about her--_worse_,about her father. Yet seeing him now, so tiny and ruffled andfrightened, she liked him.
She brought him to a level with her eyes. "What's the matter?" she askedsoothingly.
"I'm afraid." He thrust out his head, pointing. "_Look_."
She looked. Ahead the tops of the grass blades were swaying this way andthat in a winding path--as if from the passage of some crawling thing!
"She tried to get me out of the way!"
"Oh, tell me where is my fath-er!"
"Why, of _course_. They say he's--"
He did not finish; or if he did she heard no end to the sentence. Of asudden her face had grown almost painfully hot--as a great yellow lightflamed against it, a light that shimmered up dazzlingly from the surfaceof a broad treeless field. This field was like none that she had everimagined. For its acres were neatly sodded with _mirrors_.
The little company was on the beveled edge of the field. To halt them,and conspicuously displayed, was a sign. It read--
_Keep off The Glass._
"'Keep off the glass,'" read Gwendolyn. "And I don't wonder. 'Cause we'dcrack it."
"We don't crack it, we cross it," reminded the Man-Who-Makes-Faces. Andstepped boldly upon the gleaming plate.
"My! My!" exclaimed the Piper. "Ain't there a _fine_ crop this year!"
A fine crop? Gwendolyn glanced down. And saw for the first time thatthe mirrored acres were studded, flower-like, with countless silk-shadedcandles!
What curious candles they were! They did not grow horizontally, as shehad imagined they must, but upright and candle-like. Above their sticks,which were of brass, silver and decorated porcelain, was a flame, ruddyof tip, sharply pointed, but fat and yellow at the base, where the softwhite wax fed the fire; at the other end of the sticks, as like the toplight as if it were a perfect reflection, was a second flame. These werecandles that burned _at both ends_.
And this was the region she had traveled so far to find! Her heart beatso wildly that it stirred the plaid of the little gingham dress.
"Say! I hear a quacking!" announced Puffy, staring up into the sky.
Gwendolyn heard it, too. It seemed to come from across the Field ofDouble-Ended Candles. She peered that way, to where a heavy fringe oftrees walled the farther side greenily.
She saw him first!--while the others (excepting the Bird) were stillstaring skyward. At the start, what she discerned was only a faintoutline on the tree-wall--the outline of a man, broad-shouldered, tall,but a trifle stooped. It was faint for the reason that it blended withthe trees. For the man was garbed in green.
As he advanced into the field, the chorus of quacks grew louder. Andpresently Gwendolyn caught certain familiar expressions--"Oh, don'tbozzer me!" "Sit up straight, Miss! Sit up straight!" (this a ratherdeep quack). "My dear child, you have no sense of time!" And, "What onearth ever put such a question into your head!" She concluded that theexpressions were issuing from the large bell-shaped horn which waspointed her way over one shoulder of the man in green. Thetalking-machine to which the horn was attached--a handsome mahoganyaffair--he carried on his back. It was not unlike a hand-organ. Whichmade Gwendolyn wonder if he was not the Man-Who-Makes-Faces' brother.
She glanced back inquiringly at the little old gentleman. Either thestranger _was_ a relation--and not a popular one--or else the quackingexpressions annoyed. For the Man-Who-Makes-Faces was scowling. And,"Cavil, criticism, correction!" he scolded, half to himself.
He in green now began to move about and gather silk-shaded candles,bending this way and that to pluck them, and paying not the slightestattention to the group of watchers in plain view. But not one of thesewas indifferent to _his_ presence. And all were acting in a mostincomprehensible manner. With one accord, Doctor and Piper, Bear andPoliceman, Face-maker and Bird, were rubbing hard at the palm of onehand. There being no trees close by, the men used the sole of a shoe,while Puffy raked away at one paw with the claws of the others, and theBird pecked a foot with his beak.
And yet Gwendolyn could not believe that it was really _he_.
The Policeman drew near. "You've heard of Hobson's choice?" he inquiredin a low voice. "Perhaps this is Hobson, or Sam Hill, or Punch, or GreatScott."
The Man-Who-Makes-Faces shook his head. "You don't know him," heanswered, "because recently, when the bears were bothering him a lot inhis Street, I made him a long face."
The man in green was pausing where the candles clustered thickest.Gwendolyn, still doubtful, went forward to greet him.
"How do you do, sir," she began, curtseying.
His face was long, as the Man-Who-Makes-Faces had pointed out--verylong, and pale, and haggard. Between his sunken temples burned hisdark-rimmed eyes. His nose was thin, and over it the skin was drawn sotightly that his nostrils were pinched. His lips were pressed together,driving out the blood. His cheeks were hollow, and shadowed bluely by aday-old beard. He had on a hat. Yet she was able (curiously enough!) tonote that his hair was sparse over the top of his head, and streakedwith gray.
Nevertheless there
was no denying that she recognized him dimly.
Something knotted in her throat--at seeing weariness, anxiety, eventorture, in those deep-set eyes. "I think I've met you beforesomewhere," she faltered. "Your--your long face--" The Bird was perchedon the forefinger of one hand. She proffered the other.
He did not even look at her. "My hands are full," he declared. Andagain, "My hands are full."
She glanced at them. And saw that each was indeed full--of paper money.Moreover, the green of his coat was the green of new crisp bills. Whilehis buff-colored trousers were made of yellowish ones, carefullycreased.
He was literally _made of money_.
Now she felt reasonably certain of his identity. Yet she determined tomake even more sure. "Would you mind just turning around for a moment?"she inquired.
"But I'm busy to-day," he protested, "I can't be bothered with littlegirls. I'll see you when you're eight years old." Nevertheless he facedabout accommodatingly.
The moment he turned his back he displayed a detail of his dress thathad not been visible before. This detail, at first glance, appeared tobe a smart leather piping. On second glance it seemed a sort ofshawl-strap contrivance by which the talking-machine was suspended. Butin the end she knew what it was--a leather harness!--an exceedinglyhandsome, silver-buckled, hand-sewed harness!
She went around him and raised a smiling face--caught at a hand, too;and felt her own happy tears make cool streaks down her cheeks. "I--Idon't see you often," she said, "bu-but I know you just the same.You're--you're my fath-er!"
At that, he glanced down at her--stooped--picked a candle--and held itclose to her face.
"Poor little girl!" he said. "Poor little girl!"
"Poor little _rich_ girl," she prompted, noting that he had left out theword.
She heard a sob!
The next moment, _Rustle! Rustle! Rustle!_ And at her feet thegay-topped candles were bent this way and that--as Miss Royle, with anartful serpent-smile on her bandaged face, writhed her way swiftlybetween them!
"Dearie," she hissed, making an affectionate half-coil about Gwendolyn,"what _do_ you think I'm going to say to you!"
Gwendolyn only shook her head.
"_Guess_, darling," encouraged the governess, coiling herself a littlecloser.
"Maybe you're going to say, 'Use your dictionary,'" ventured Gwendolyn.
"Oh, dearie!" chided Miss Royle, managing a very good blush for a snake.
But now Gwendolyn guessed the reason for the other's sudden display ofaffection. For that scaly head was rising out of the grass, inch byinch, and those glittering serpent eyes were fixed upon the Bird!
Unable to move, he watched her, plumage on end, round eyes fairlystarting.
"_Cheep! Cheep!_"
At his cry of terror, the Doctor interposed. "I think we'd better takethe Bird out of here," he said. "The less noise the better." And withthat, he lifted the small frightened thing from Gwendolyn's finger.
Miss Royle, quite thrown off her poise, sank hissing to the ground. "Myneuralgia's worse than ever this evening," she complained, affecting notto notice his interference.
"Huh!" he grunted. "Keep away from bargain counters."
The Piper came jangling up. "That snake belongs in her case," hedeclared, addressing the Doctor.
More than once Gwendolyn had wondered why the Piper had burdenedhimself--to all appearances uselessly and foolishly--with the variouspieces of lead pipe. But now what wily forethought she granted him. Forwith a few quick flourishes of the wrench, she saw him join them, end toend, to form one length. This he threw to the ground, after which hegave a short, sharp whistle.
In answer to it, the Bird fluttered down, and entered one end of thepipe, giving, as he disappeared from sight, one faint cheep.
Miss Royle heard. Her scaly head glittered up once more. Her beady eyesshone. Her tongue darted hate. Then little by little, that long blackbody began to move--toward the pipe!
A moment, and she entered it; another, and the last foot of rustlingserpent had disappeared. Then out of the farther end of the pipe bouncedthe Bird. Whereat the Piper sprang to the Bird's side, produced a nut,and screwed it on the pipe-end.
"How's that!" he cried triumphantly.
The pipe rolled partly over. A muffled voice came from it, railing athim: "Be careful what you do, young man! _I_ saw you had that bonnet ofmine!"
"Oh, can a snake crawl backwards?" demanded Gwendolyn, excitedly.
The Piper answered with a harsh laugh. And scrambling the length of thelead pipe, fell to hammering in a plug.
Miss Royle was a prisoner!
The Bird bounced very high. "That's a feather in _your_ cap," hedeclared joyously, advancing to the Piper. And suiting the action to theword, pulled a tiny plume from his own wing, fluttered up, and thrust itunder the band of the other's greasy head-gear.
"Think how that governess has treated me," growled Puffy. "When I was inyour nursery, and was old and a little worn out, _how_ I would'veappreciated care--and repair!"
"The Employment Agency for her," said the Piper.
"I'll attend to that," added the Policeman.
Gwendolyn's father had been gathering candles, and had seemed not to seewhat was transpiring. Now as if he was satisfied with his load, hesuddenly started away in the direction he had come. His firm stridejolted the talking-machine not a little. The quacking criesrecommenced--
"Please to pay me.... Let me sell you...! Let me borrow...! Won't youhire...! _Quack! Quack! Quack!_"
After him hurried the others in an excited group. The Piper led it, hisplumbing-tools jangling, his pig-poke a-swing. And Gwendolyn saw himgrin back over a shoulder craftily--then lay hold of her father and_tighten a strap_.
She trudged in the rear. She had found her father--and he could seeonly the candles he sought, and the money in his grasp! She was out inthe open with him once more, where she was free to gambol and shout--yethe was bound by his harness and heavily laden.
"I might just as well be home," she said to Puffy, disheartened.
"Wish your father'd let me sharpen his ears," whispered theMan-Who-Makes-Faces. He shifted the hand-organ to the other shoulder.
The Doctor had a basket on his arm. He peered into it. "I haven't athing about me," he declared, "but a bread-pill."
"How would a glass of soda-water do?" suggested the Policeman, in anundertone.
"Why, of _course!_"
It had happened before that the mere mention of a thing brought thatdying swiftly. Now it happened again. For immediately Gwendolyn heardthe rush and bubble and brawl of a narrow mountain-stream. Next, lookingdown from the summit of a gentle rise, she saw the smoky windings of theunbottled soda!
The Doctor was a man of action. Though the Policeman had made hissuggestion only a second before, here was the former already leaningdown to the stream; and, having dipped, was walking in the midst of thelittle company, glass in hand.
Gwendolyn ran forward. "Fath-er!" she called; "_please_ have a drink!"
Her father shook his head. "I'm not thirsty," he declared, utterlyignoring the proffered glass.
"I--I was 'fraid he wouldn't," sighed Gwendolyn, head down again, andscuffing bare feet in the cool damp grass of the stream-side--yet notenjoying it! The lights had changed: The double-ended candles haddisappeared. Filling the Land once more with a golden glow werecountless tapers--electric, gas, and kerosene. She was back where shehad started, threading the trees among which she had danced with joy.
But she was far from dancing now!
"Let's not give up hope," said a voice--the Doctor's. He was holding upthe glass before his face to watch the bubbles creaming upon itssurface. "There may be a sudden turn for the better."
Before she could draw another breath--here was the turn! a sharp one.And she, felt a keen wind in her eyes,--blown in gusts, as if by thewings of giant butterflies. The cloud that held the wind lay justahead--a pinky mass that stretched from sky to earth.
The Bird turned his dark eyes upon
Gwendolyn from where he sat, high andsafe, on the Doctor's shoulder. "I think her little journey's almostdone," he said. There was a rich canary note in his voice.
"Oo! goody!" she cried.
"You mean you have a solution?" asked the little old gentleman.
"A solution?" called back the Piper. "Well--?"
A moment's perfect stillness. Then, "It's simple," said the Bird. (Nowhis voice was strangely like the Doctor's.) "I suppose you might call ita salt solution."
His last three words began to run through Gwendolyn's mind--"A saltsolution! A salt solution! A salt solution!"--as regularly as the pulsethat throbbed in her throat.
"Yes,"--the Doctor's voice now, breathless, low, tremulous withanxiety. "If we want to save her--"
"Am I _her?_" interrupted Gwendolyn. (And again somebody sobbed!)
"--_It must be done!_"
"There isn't anything to cry about," declared Gwendolyn, stoutly. Shefelt hopeful, even buoyant.
It was all novel and interesting. The Doctor began by making grabs atthe lump of salt on the Bird's tail. The lump loosened suddenly. Hecaught it between his palms, after which he began to roll it--preciselyas he had rolled the dough at the Pillery. And as the salt worked into amore perfect ball, it slowly browned!
Gwendolyn clapped her hands. "My father won't know the difference," shecried.
"You get my idea exactly," answered the Bird.
The Doctor uncovered the pill-basket, selected a fine, round, toastedexample of his own baking, and presented it to the Man-Who-Makes-Faces;presented a second to Gwendolyn; thence went from one to another of thelittle company, whereat everyone fell to eating.
At once Gwendolyn's father looked round the circle of picknickers--as ifannoyed by the crunching; but when the Doctor held out the brown salt,he took it, examined it critically, turning it over and over, thenlifted it--and bit.
"Pretty slim lunch this," he observed.
He ate heartily, until the last salt crumb was gone. Then, "I'mthirsty," he declared "Where's--?"
Instantly the Doctor proffered the glass. And the other drank--in onegreat gasping mouthful.
"Ah!" breathed Gwendolyn. And felt a grateful coolness on her lips, asif she had slaked her own thirst.
The next moment her father turned. And she saw that the change hadalready come. First of all, he looked down at his hands, caught sight ofthe crumpled bills, and attempted to stuff them hurriedly into hispocket. But his pockets were already wedged tight with silk-shadedcandles. He reached round and fed the bills into the mahogany case ofthe talking-machine. Next, he emptied his pockets of the double-endedcandles, frowned at them, and threw them to one side to wilt. Last ofall, he spied a bit of leather strap, and pulled at it impatiently.Whereupon, with a clear ring of its silver mountings, his harness fellabout his feet.
He smiled, and stepped out of it, as out of a cast-off garment. Thisquick movement shook up the talking-machine, and at once voices issuedfrom the great horn shrilly protesting into his ear--"_Quack!_ Quack!_Kommt, Fraulein!_" "_Une fille stupider!_" "Gid-_dap!_" "_Honk! Honk!Honk!_"--and then, rippling upward, to the accompaniment of dancingfeet, a scale on a piano.
He peered into the horn. "When did I come by _this?_" he demanded."Well, I shan't carry it another step!" And moving his shoulders as ifthey ached, let the talking-machine slip sidewise to the glass.
There was a crank attached to one side of the machine. This he grasped.And while he continued to stuff bills into the mahogany box with onehand, he turned the crank with the other. Gwendolyn had often marveledat the way bands of music, voices of men and women, chimes of clocks,and bugle-calls could come out of the self-same place. Now this was madeclear to her. For as her father whirled the crank, out of the horn, in alittle procession, waddled the creatures who had quacked sopersistently.
There were six of them in all. One wore patent leather pumps; one had ariding-whip; the third was in motor-livery--buff and blue; anotherwaddled with an air unmistakably French (feathers formed a boa about herneck); the next advanced firmly, a metronome swinging on a slenderpince-nez chain; the last one of all carried a German dictionary.
Her father observed them gloomily. "_That's_ the kind of ducks anddrakes I've been making out of my money," he declared.
The procession quacked loudly, as if glad to get out. And waddledtoward the stream.
"Why!" cried Gwendolyn; "there's Monsieur Tellegen, and myriding-master, and the chauffeur, and my French teacher, and mymusic-teacher, and my Ger--!"
His eyes rested upon her then. And she saw that he knew her!
"Oh, daddy!"--the tender name she loved to call him.
"Little daughter! Little daughter!"
She felt his arms about her, pressing her to him. His pale face wasclose. "When my precious baby is strong enough--," he began.
"I'm strong _now_." She gripped his fingers.
"We'll take a little jaunt together."
"We must have moth-er with us, daddy. Oh, _dear_ daddy!"
"We'll see mother soon," he said; "--_very_ soon."
She brushed his cheek with searching fingers. "I think we'd better startright away," she declared. "'Cause--isn't this a rain-drop on yourface?"