2. THE MAGIC SHOP
I had seen the Magic Shop from afar several times; I had passed it onceor twice, a shop window of alluring little objects, magic balls, magichens, wonderful cones, ventriloquist dolls, the material of the baskettrick, packs of cards that LOOKED all right, and all that sort ofthing, but never had I thought of going in until one day, almost withoutwarning, Gip hauled me by my finger right up to the window, and soconducted himself that there was nothing for it but to take him in. Ihad not thought the place was there, to tell the truth--a modest-sizedfrontage in Regent Street, between the picture shop and the place wherethe chicks run about just out of patent incubators, but there it wassure enough. I had fancied it was down nearer the Circus, or round thecorner in Oxford Street, or even in Holborn; always over the way anda little inaccessible it had been, with something of the mirage in itsposition; but here it was now quite indisputably, and the fat end ofGip's pointing finger made a noise upon the glass.
"If I was rich," said Gip, dabbing a finger at the Disappearing Egg,"I'd buy myself that. And that"--which was The Crying Baby, VeryHuman--"and that," which was a mystery, and called, so a neat cardasserted, "Buy One and Astonish Your Friends."
"Anything," said Gip, "will disappear under one of those cones. I haveread about it in a book.
"And there, dadda, is the Vanishing Halfpenny--, only they've put itthis way up so's we can't see how it's done."
Gip, dear boy, inherits his mother's breeding, and he did not propose toenter the shop or worry in any way; only, you know, quite unconsciouslyhe lugged my finger doorward, and he made his interest clear.
"That," he said, and pointed to the Magic Bottle.
"If you had that?" I said; at which promising inquiry he looked up witha sudden radiance.
"I could show it to Jessie," he said, thoughtful as ever of others.
"It's less than a hundred days to your birthday, Gibbles," I said, andlaid my hand on the door-handle.
Gip made no answer, but his grip tightened on my finger, and so we cameinto the shop.
It was no common shop this; it was a magic shop, and all the prancingprecedence Gip would have taken in the matter of mere toys was wanting.He left the burthen of the conversation to me.
It was a little, narrow shop, not very well lit, and the door-bellpinged again with a plaintive note as we closed it behind us. For amoment or so we were alone and could glance about us. There was a tigerin papier-mache on the glass case that covered the low counter--a grave,kind-eyed tiger that waggled his head in a methodical manner; there wereseveral crystal spheres, a china hand holding magic cards, a stockof magic fish-bowls in various sizes, and an immodest magic hat thatshamelessly displayed its springs. On the floor were magic mirrors; oneto draw you out long and thin, one to swell your head and vanish yourlegs, and one to make you short and fat like a draught; and while wewere laughing at these the shopman, as I suppose, came in.
At any rate, there he was behind the counter--a curious, sallow, darkman, with one ear larger than the other and a chin like the toe-cap of aboot.
"What can we have the pleasure?" he said, spreading his long, magicfingers on the glass case; and so with a start we were aware of him.
"I want," I said, "to buy my little boy a few simple tricks."
"Legerdemain?" he asked. "Mechanical? Domestic?"
"Anything amusing?" said I.
"Um!" said the shopman, and scratched his head for a moment as ifthinking. Then, quite distinctly, he drew from his head a glass ball."Something in this way?" he said, and held it out.
The action was unexpected. I had seen the trick done at entertainmentsendless times before--it's part of the common stock of conjurers--but Ihad not expected it here.
"That's good," I said, with a laugh.
"Isn't it?" said the shopman.
Gip stretched out his disengaged hand to take this object and foundmerely a blank palm.
"It's in your pocket," said the shopman, and there it was!
"How much will that be?" I asked.
"We make no charge for glass balls," said the shopman politely. "We getthem,"--he picked one out of his elbow as he spoke--"free." He producedanother from the back of his neck, and laid it beside its predecessor onthe counter. Gip regarded his glass ball sagely, then directed a lookof inquiry at the two on the counter, and finally brought his round-eyedscrutiny to the shopman, who smiled.
"You may have those too," said the shopman, "and, if you DON'T mind, onefrom my mouth. SO!"
Gip counselled me mutely for a moment, and then in a profound silenceput away the four balls, resumed my reassuring finger, and nervedhimself for the next event.
"We get all our smaller tricks in that way," the shopman remarked.
I laughed in the manner of one who subscribes to a jest. "Instead ofgoing to the wholesale shop," I said. "Of course, it's cheaper."
"In a way," the shopman said. "Though we pay in the end. But notso heavily--as people suppose.... Our larger tricks, and our dailyprovisions and all the other things we want, we get out of thathat... And you know, sir, if you'll excuse my saying it, there ISN'T awholesale shop, not for Genuine Magic goods, sir. I don't know ifyou noticed our inscription--the Genuine Magic shop." He drew abusiness-card from his cheek and handed it to me. "Genuine," hesaid, with his finger on the word, and added, "There is absolutely nodeception, sir."
He seemed to be carrying out the joke pretty thoroughly, I thought.
He turned to Gip with a smile of remarkable affability. "You, you know,are the Right Sort of Boy."
I was surprised at his knowing that, because, in the interests ofdiscipline, we keep it rather a secret even at home; but Gip received itin unflinching silence, keeping a steadfast eye on him.
"It's only the Right Sort of Boy gets through that doorway."
And, as if by way of illustration, there came a rattling at the door,and a squeaking little voice could be faintly heard. "Nyar! I WARN 'a goin there, dadda, I WARN 'a go in there. Ny-a-a-ah!" and then the accentsof a down-trodden parent, urging consolations and propitiations. "It'slocked, Edward," he said.
"But it isn't," said I.
"It is, sir," said the shopman, "always--for that sort of child," and ashe spoke we had a glimpse of the other youngster, a little, white face,pallid from sweet-eating and over-sapid food, and distorted by evilpassions, a ruthless little egotist, pawing at the enchanted pane."It's no good, sir," said the shopman, as I moved, with my naturalhelpfulness, doorward, and presently the spoilt child was carried offhowling.
"How do you manage that?" I said, breathing a little more freely.
"Magic!" said the shopman, with a careless wave of the hand, and behold!sparks of coloured fire flew out of his fingers and vanished into theshadows of the shop.
"You were saying," he said, addressing himself to Gip, "before you camein, that you would like one of our 'Buy One and Astonish your Friends'boxes?"
Gip, after a gallant effort, said "Yes."
"It's in your pocket."
And leaning over the counter--he really had an extraordinarily longbody--this amazing person produced the article in the customaryconjurer's manner. "Paper," he said, and took a sheet out of the emptyhat with the springs; "string," and behold his mouth was a string-box,from which he drew an unending thread, which when he had tied his parcelhe bit off--and, it seemed to me, swallowed the ball of string. And thenhe lit a candle at the nose of one of the ventriloquist's dummies, stuckone of his fingers (which had become sealing-wax red) into the flame,and so sealed the parcel. "Then there was the Disappearing Egg," heremarked, and produced one from within my coat-breast and packed it, andalso The Crying Baby, Very Human. I handed each parcel to Gip as it wasready, and he clasped them to his chest.
He said very little, but his eyes were eloquent; the clutch of his armswas eloquent. He was the playground of unspeakable emotions. These,you know, were REAL Magics. Then, with a start, I discovered somethingmoving about in my hat--something soft and jumpy. I whipped it off, anda ruffl
ed pigeon--no doubt a confederate--dropped out and ran on thecounter, and went, I fancy, into a cardboard box behind the papier-machetiger.
"Tut, tut!" said the shopman, dexterously relieving me of my headdress;"careless bird, and--as I live--nesting!"
He shook my hat, and shook out into his extended hand two or three eggs,a large marble, a watch, about half-a-dozen of the inevitable glassballs, and then crumpled, crinkled paper, more and more and more,talking all the time of the way in which people neglect to brush theirhats INSIDE as well as out, politely, of course, but with a certainpersonal application. "All sorts of things accumulate, sir.... Not YOU,of course, in particular.... Nearly every customer.... Astonishing whatthey carry about with them...." The crumpled paper rose and billowed onthe counter more and more and more, until he was nearly hidden from us,until he was altogether hidden, and still his voice went on and on. "Wenone of us know what the fair semblance of a human being may conceal,sir. Are we all then no better than brushed exteriors, whitedsepulchres--"
His voice stopped--exactly like when you hit a neighbour's gramophonewith a well-aimed brick, the same instant silence, and the rustle of thepaper stopped, and everything was still....
"Have you done with my hat?" I said, after an interval.
There was no answer.
I stared at Gip, and Gip stared at me, and there were our distortions inthe magic mirrors, looking very rum, and grave, and quiet....
"I think we'll go now," I said. "Will you tell me how much all thiscomes to?....
"I say," I said, on a rather louder note, "I want the bill; and my hat,please."
It might have been a sniff from behind the paper pile....
"Let's look behind the counter, Gip," I said. "He's making fun of us."
I led Gip round the head-wagging tiger, and what do you think therewas behind the counter? No one at all! Only my hat on the floor, and acommon conjurer's lop-eared white rabbit lost in meditation, and lookingas stupid and crumpled as only a conjurer's rabbit can do. I resumed myhat, and the rabbit lolloped a lollop or so out of my way.
"Dadda!" said Gip, in a guilty whisper.
"What is it, Gip?" said I.
"I DO like this shop, dadda."
"So should I," I said to myself, "if the counter wouldn't suddenlyextend itself to shut one off from the door." But I didn't call Gip'sattention to that. "Pussy!" he said, with a hand out to the rabbit as itcame lolloping past us; "Pussy, do Gip a magic!" and his eyes followedit as it squeezed through a door I had certainly not remarked a momentbefore. Then this door opened wider, and the man with one ear largerthan the other appeared again. He was smiling still, but his eye metmine with something between amusement and defiance. "You'd like to seeour show-room, sir," he said, with an innocent suavity. Gip tuggedmy finger forward. I glanced at the counter and met the shopman's eyeagain. I was beginning to think the magic just a little too genuine."We haven't VERY much time," I said. But somehow we were inside theshow-room before I could finish that.
"All goods of the same quality," said the shopman, rubbing his flexiblehands together, "and that is the Best. Nothing in the place that isn'tgenuine Magic, and warranted thoroughly rum. Excuse me, sir!"
I felt him pull at something that clung to my coat-sleeve, and thenI saw he held a little, wriggling red demon by the tail--the littlecreature bit and fought and tried to get at his hand--and in a momenthe tossed it carelessly behind a counter. No doubt the thing was only animage of twisted indiarubber, but for the moment--! And his gesture wasexactly that of a man who handles some petty biting bit of vermin. Iglanced at Gip, but Gip was looking at a magic rocking-horse. I wasglad he hadn't seen the thing. "I say," I said, in an undertone, andindicating Gip and the red demon with my eyes, "you haven't many thingslike THAT about, have you?"
"None of ours! Probably brought it with you," said the shopman--alsoin an undertone, and with a more dazzling smile than ever. "Astonishingwhat people WILL carry about with them unawares!" And then to Gip, "Doyou see anything you fancy here?"
There were many things that Gip fancied there.
He turned to this astonishing tradesman with mingled confidence andrespect. "Is that a Magic Sword?" he said.
"A Magic Toy Sword. It neither bends, breaks, nor cuts the fingers. Itrenders the bearer invincible in battle against any one under eighteen.Half-a-crown to seven and sixpence, according to size. These panoplieson cards are for juvenile knights-errant and very useful--shield ofsafety, sandals of swiftness, helmet of invisibility."
"Oh, daddy!" gasped Gip.
I tried to find out what they cost, but the shopman did not heed me.He had got Gip now; he had got him away from my finger; he had embarkedupon the exposition of all his confounded stock, and nothing was goingto stop him. Presently I saw with a qualm of distrust and something verylike jealousy that Gip had hold of this person's finger as usually hehas hold of mine. No doubt the fellow was interesting, I thought,and had an interestingly faked lot of stuff, really GOOD faked stuff,still--
I wandered after them, saying very little, but keeping an eye on thisprestidigital fellow. After all, Gip was enjoying it. And no doubt whenthe time came to go we should be able to go quite easily.
It was a long, rambling place, that show-room, a gallery broken upby stands and stalls and pillars, with archways leading off to otherdepartments, in which the queerest-looking assistants loafed and staredat one, and with perplexing mirrors and curtains. So perplexing, indeed,were these that I was presently unable to make out the door by which wehad come.
The shopman showed Gip magic trains that ran without steam or clockwork,just as you set the signals, and then some very, very valuable boxes ofsoldiers that all came alive directly you took off the lid and said--. Imyself haven't a very quick ear and it was a tongue-twisting sound,but Gip--he has his mother's ear--got it in no time. "Bravo!" said theshopman, putting the men back into the box unceremoniously and handingit to Gip. "Now," said the shopman, and in a moment Gip had made themall alive again.
"You'll take that box?" asked the shopman.
"We'll take that box," said I, "unless you charge its full value. Inwhich case it would need a Trust Magnate--"
"Dear heart! NO!" and the shopman swept the little men back again, shutthe lid, waved the box in the air, and there it was, in brown paper,tied up and--WITH GIP'S FULL NAME AND ADDRESS ON THE PAPER!
The shopman laughed at my amazement.
"This is the genuine magic," he said. "The real thing."
"It's a little too genuine for my taste," I said again.
After that he fell to showing Gip tricks, odd tricks, and still odderthe way they were done. He explained them, he turned them inside out,and there was the dear little chap nodding his busy bit of a head in thesagest manner.
I did not attend as well as I might. "Hey, presto!" said the MagicShopman, and then would come the clear, small "Hey, presto!" of the boy.But I was distracted by other things. It was being borne in upon me justhow tremendously rum this place was; it was, so to speak, inundated bya sense of rumness. There was something a little rum about the fixtureseven, about the ceiling, about the floor, about the casually distributedchairs. I had a queer feeling that whenever I wasn't looking at themstraight they went askew, and moved about, and played a noiselesspuss-in-the-corner behind my back. And the cornice had a serpentinedesign with masks--masks altogether too expressive for proper plaster.
Then abruptly my attention was caught by one of the odd-lookingassistants. He was some way off and evidently unaware of my presence--Isaw a sort of three-quarter length of him over a pile of toys andthrough an arch--and, you know, he was leaning against a pillar in anidle sort of way doing the most horrid things with his features! Theparticular horrid thing he did was with his nose. He did it just asthough he was idle and wanted to amuse himself. First of all it was ashort, blobby nose, and then suddenly he shot it out like a telescope,and then out it flew and became thinner and thinner until it was likea long, red, flexible whip. Like a thing in a nightmare it wa
s! Heflourished it about and flung it forth as a fly-fisher flings his line.
My instant thought was that Gip mustn't see him. I turned about, andthere was Gip quite preoccupied with the shopman, and thinking no evil.They were whispering together and looking at me. Gip was standing ona little stool, and the shopman was holding a sort of big drum in hishand.
"Hide and seek, dadda!" cried Gip. "You're He!"
And before I could do anything to prevent it, the shopman had clappedthe big drum over him. I saw what was up directly. "Take that off," Icried, "this instant! You'll frighten the boy. Take it off!"
The shopman with the unequal ears did so without a word, and held thebig cylinder towards me to show its emptiness. And the little stool wasvacant! In that instant my boy had utterly disappeared?...
You know, perhaps, that sinister something that comes like a hand outof the unseen and grips your heart about. You know it takes your commonself away and leaves you tense and deliberate, neither slow nor hasty,neither angry nor afraid. So it was with me.
I came up to this grinning shopman and kicked his stool aside.
"Stop this folly!" I said. "Where is my boy?"
"You see," he said, still displaying the drum's interior, "there is nodeception---"
I put out my hand to grip him, and he eluded me by a dexterous movement.I snatched again, and he turned from me and pushed open a door toescape. "Stop!" I said, and he laughed, receding. I leapt afterhim--into utter darkness.
THUD!
"Lor' bless my 'eart! I didn't see you coming, sir!"
I was in Regent Street, and I had collided with a decent-looking workingman; and a yard away, perhaps, and looking a little perplexed withhimself, was Gip. There was some sort of apology, and then Gip hadturned and come to me with a bright little smile, as though for a momenthe had missed me.
And he was carrying four parcels in his arm!
He secured immediate possession of my finger.
For the second I was rather at a loss. I stared round to see the doorof the magic shop, and, behold, it was not there! There was no door, noshop, nothing, only the common pilaster between the shop where they sellpictures and the window with the chicks!...
I did the only thing possible in that mental tumult; I walked straightto the kerbstone and held up my umbrella for a cab.
"'Ansoms," said Gip, in a note of culminating exultation.
I helped him in, recalled my address with an effort, and got in also.Something unusual proclaimed itself in my tail-coat pocket, and I feltand discovered a glass ball. With a petulant expression I flung it intothe street.
Gip said nothing.
For a space neither of us spoke.
"Dada!" said Gip, at last, "that WAS a proper shop!"
I came round with that to the problem of just how the whole thing hadseemed to him. He looked completely undamaged--so far, good; he wasneither scared nor unhinged, he was simply tremendously satisfied withthe afternoon's entertainment, and there in his arms were the fourparcels.
Confound it! what could be in them?
"Um!" I said. "Little boys can't go to shops like that every day."
He received this with his usual stoicism, and for a moment I was sorry Iwas his father and not his mother, and so couldn't suddenly there, corampublico, in our hansom, kiss him. After all, I thought, the thing wasn'tso very bad.
But it was only when we opened the parcels that I really began to bereassured. Three of them contained boxes of soldiers, quite ordinarylead soldiers, but of so good a quality as to make Gip altogether forgetthat originally these parcels had been Magic Tricks of the only genuinesort, and the fourth contained a kitten, a little living white kitten,in excellent health and appetite and temper.
I saw this unpacking with a sort of provisional relief. I hung about inthe nursery for quite an unconscionable time....
That happened six months ago. And now I am beginning to believe it isall right. The kitten had only the magic natural to all kittens, andthe soldiers seem as steady a company as any colonel could desire. AndGip--?
The intelligent parent will understand that I have to go cautiously withGip.
But I went so far as this one day. I said, "How would you like yoursoldiers to come alive, Gip, and march about by themselves?"
"Mine do," said Gip. "I just have to say a word I know before I open thelid."
"Then they march about alone?"
"Oh, QUITE, dadda. I shouldn't like them if they didn't do that."
I displayed no unbecoming surprise, and since then I have taken occasionto drop in upon him once or twice, unannounced, when the soldiers wereabout, but so far I have never discovered them performing in anythinglike a magical manner.
It's so difficult to tell.
There's also a question of finance. I have an incurable habit of payingbills. I have been up and down Regent Street several times, looking forthat shop. I am inclined to think, indeed, that in that matter honour issatisfied, and that, since Gip's name and address are known to them, Imay very well leave it to these people, whoever they may be, to send intheir bill in their own time.