The more she pondered, the more sad she became, for it seemed to her that all her plans had gone astray, and that she was no nearer finding the precious December day for which she had now searched the wide world over. The South Wind had helped her but little, the West Wind she had missed, the East Wind was enraged with them. Now there was only the North Wind left, and she was not at all certain where she could find him. “I’m simply too miserable for words!” sighed the poor child. “Whatever can I do all alone, without Tibbs, or Kiddiwee, or even Miss Smiler to help me?” “Wherever are they?” she cried aloud. “I do love them so! And perhaps I shall never see them again!” And the tears rolled down her cheeks at the very thought. CHAPTER XXII. TIBBS AND KIDDIWEE TO THE RESCUE. “I do wish you’d go away, or--or--move--or do something!” sobbed Coppertop. “You make me feel terrifikly nervous, standing there and saying nothing; just staring and staring, and leaning on that horrid, sharp sword!” These words were addressed to a strange-looking person, who had been standing beside the Japanese Lantern for some time, silent, motionless, and mysterious. He was dressed in the armour of a Samurai of old Japan, and leant upon a long and very sharp two-handed sword. His face was so stern and still that Coppertop could not decide if it really were his face or only a mask. And it made her feel most uncomfortable and nervous. She had spoken to him several times, but he took not a bit of notice, which was extremely impolite, to say the least. “Whatever shall I do with the horrid old thing?” she cried, and she wept faster than before. Splash, splash, fell the big crystal tears, on to the steps of the ancient stone Lantern. “Don’t splash so, up there!” cried a small voice, which sounded so very familiar that Coppertop ceased weeping, and, drying her little grey eyes, looked down. And there, to her intense delight, she beheld Miss Smiler. “Oh, you dear, duckie, little old person!” she cried. “However did you get here?” “Oh, I just trotted along on my four legs,” replied the Camel, smiling up at her, “until I came to the sea, and then-- Myself and a Nautilus Put to sea In a beautiful ship Of purple shell. And the Nautilus smiled In the highest glee, But I felt far from well. For a storm came on-- As storms will do-- And rocked our shell-ship Fro and to, Fro and to, And to and fro, The way that shell-ships Rock, you know. And I cried, ‘Though I’m fond of the ocean, too, With its billowy waves, so green and blue, I like it much better quite still, don’t you?’ But the Nautilus didn’t agree. She said, ‘When it’s still As still can be, And there isn’t a breeze To fill my sail, Great fishes come up And stare at me, Till I feel my cheeks Grow pale.’