"Well, if he went to Araby, or was born there, he'd be an Arabian
Knight, wouldn't he? The lad's gran'ther were prob'ly a furriner, an'
yours an' mine were, too, Trot, if you go back far enough; for Ameriky
wasn't diskivered in them days."
"There!" said Trot triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you, Button-Bright,
that Cap'n Bill knows ever'thing?"
"He knows a lot, I expect," soberly answered the boy, finishing the
last slice of bread-and-butter and then looking at the empty plate with
a sigh. "But if he really knows ever'thing, he knows about the Magic
Umbrella, so I won't have to tell you anything about it."
"Magic!" cried Trot with big, eager eyes. "Did you say MAGIC Umbrel,
Button-Bright?"
"I said 'Magic.' But none of our family knew it was a Magic Umbrella
till I found it out for myself. You're the first people I've told the
secret to," he added, glancing into their faces rather uneasily.
"Glory me!" exclaimed the girl, clapping her hands in ecstacy. "It must
be jus' ELEGANT to have a Magic Umbrel!"
Cap'n Bill coughed. He had a way of coughing when he was suspicious.
"Magic," he observed gravely, "was once lyin' 'round loose in the
world. That was in the Dark Ages, I guess, when the magic Arabian
Nights was. But the light o' Civilization has skeered it away long ago,
an' magic's been a lost art since long afore you an' I was born, Trot."
"I know that fairies still live," said Trot reflectively. She didn't
like to contradict Cap'n Bill, who knew "ever'thing."
"So do I," added Button-Bright. "And I know there's magic still in the
world--or in my umbrella, anyhow."
"Tell us about it!" begged the girl excitedly.
"Well," said the boy, "I found it all out by accident. It rained in
Philadelphia for three whole days, and all the umbrellas in our house
were carried out by the family and lost or mislaid or something, so
that when I wanted to go to Uncle Bob's house, which is at Germantown,
there wasn't an umbrella to be found. My governess wouldn't let me go
without one, and--"
"Oh," said Trot. "Do you have a governess?"
"Yes, but I don't like her. She's cross. She said I couldn't go to
Uncle Bob's because I had no umbrella. Instead she told me to go up in
the attic and play. I was sorry 'bout that, but I went up in the attic,
and pretty soon I found in a corner this old umbrella. I didn't care
how it looked. It was whole and strong and big, and would keep me from
getting wet on the way to Uncle Bob's. So off I started for the car,
but I found the streets awful muddy, and once I stepped in a mud-hole
way up to my ankle. 'Gee!,' I said, 'I wish I could fly through the air
to Uncle Bob's.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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