Fantasy fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Fiction; Space and time -- Fiction
'Is it?' said their visitor, sitting down. 'Then what on Human Earth
made you act Midsummer Night's Dream three times over, on Midsummer
Eve, in the middle of a Ring, and under--right under one of my oldest
hills in Old England? Pook's Hill--Puck's Hill--Puck's Hill--Pook's
Hill! It's as plain as the nose on my face.'
He pointed to the bare, fern-covered slope of Pook's Hill that runs up
from the far side of the mill-stream to a dark wood. Beyond that wood
the ground rises and rises for five hundred feet, till at last you
climb out on the bare top of Beacon Hill, to look over the Pevensey
Levels and the Channel and half the naked South Downs.
'By Oak, Ash, and Thorn!' he cried, still laughing. 'If this had
happened a few hundred years ago you'd have had all the People of the
Hills out like bees in June!'
'We didn't know it was wrong,' said Dan.
'Wrong!' The little fellow shook with laughter. 'Indeed, it isn't
wrong. You've done something that Kings and Knights and Scholars in
old days would have given their crowns and spurs and books to find out.
If Merlin himself had helped you, you couldn't have managed better!
You've broken the Hills--you've broken the Hills! It hasn't happened in
a thousand years.'
'We--we didn't mean to,' said Una.
'Of course you didn't! That's just why you did it. Unluckily the Hills
are empty now, and all the People of the Hills are gone. I'm the only
one left. I'm Puck, the oldest Old Thing in England, very much at your
service if--if you care to have anything to do with me. If you don't,
of course you've only to say so, and I'll go.'
He looked at the children, and the children looked at him for quite
half a minute. His eyes did not twinkle any more. They were very
kind, and there was the beginning of a good smile on his lips.
Una put out her hand. 'Don't go,' she said. 'We like you.' 'Have a
Bath Oliver,' said Dan, and he passed over the squashy envelope with
the eggs.
'By Oak, Ash and Thorn,' cried Puck, taking off his blue cap, 'I like
you too. Sprinkle a plenty salt on the biscuit, Dan, and I'll eat it
with you. That'll show you the sort of person I am. Some of us'--he
went on, with his mouth full--'couldn't abide Salt, or Horse-shoes over
a door, or Mountain-ash berries, or Running Water, or Cold Iron, or the
sound of Church Bells. But I'm Puck!'
He brushed the crumbs carefully from his doublet and shook hands.
'We always said, Dan and I,' Una stammered, 'that if it ever happened
we'd know ex-actly what to do; but--but now it seems all different
somehow.'
'She means meeting a fairy,'said Dan. 'I never believed in 'em--not
after I was six, anyhow.'
'I did,' said Una. 'At least, I sort of half believed till we learned
"Farewell, Rewards". Do you know "Farewell, Rewards and Fairies"?'
'Do you mean this?' said Puck. He threw his big head back and began at
the second line:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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