Fairies -- Juvenile fiction; Fantasy literature; Short stories, English; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
‘“I won’t ask you to enter into fellowships and understandings with any
accursed brute,” said Meon, rather unkindly. “Shall we say he was sent
to our Bishop as the ravens were sent to your prophet Elijah?”
‘“Doubtless that is so,” said Eddi. “I will write it so if I live to get
home.”
‘“No--no!” I said. “Let us three poor men kneel and thank God for His
mercies.”
‘We kneeled, and old Padda shuffled up and thrust his head under Meon’s
elbows. I laid my hand upon it and blessed him. So did Eddi.
‘“And now, my son,” I said to Meon, “shall I baptize thee?”
‘“Not yet,” said he. “Wait till we are well ashore and at home. No God
in any Heaven shall say that I came to him or left him because I was wet
and cold. I will send Padda to my people for a boat. Is that witchcraft,
Eddi?”
‘“Why, no. Surely Padda will go and pull them to the beach by the skirts
of their gowns as he pulled me in Wittering Church to ask me to sing.
Only then I was afraid, and did not understand,” said Eddi.
‘“You are understanding now,” said Meon, and at a wave of his arm off
went Padda to the mainland, making a wake like a war-boat till we lost
him in the rain. Meon’s people could not bring a boat across for some
hours; even so it was ticklish work among the rocks in that tideway.
But they hoisted me aboard, too stiff to move, and Padda swam behind us,
barking and turning somersaults all the way to Manhood End!’
‘Good old Padda!’ murmured Dan.
‘When we were quite rested and re-clothed, and his people had been
summoned--not an hour before--Meon offered himself to be baptized.’
‘Was Padda baptized too?’ Una asked.
‘No, that was only Meon’s joke. But he sat blinking on his ox-hide in
the middle of the hall. When Eddi (who thought I wasn’t looking) made a
little cross in holy water on his wet muzzle, he kissed Eddi’s hand. A
week before Eddi wouldn’t have touched him. That was a miracle, if you
like! But seriously, I was more glad than I can tell you to get Meon. A
rare and splendid soul that never looked back--never looked back!’ The
Arch-bishop half closed his eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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