The clouds were all tinted a deep rose pink, and behind the trees, just
where the moon had risen, was a haze of purple. I knew by this that it
must be nearly tea-time, and I was just going to say that I must go,
when Titania left the frond of bracken, and alighted in the centre of
the Fairy Ring. Waving her wand, she summoned her "gladsome sprites,"
and next moment the Fairy Ring was thronged with dancing Elves who wore
red caps and silver shoes, with bright green mantles buttoned with bobs
of silk. Puck flew to join them, but Peas-blossom, Cobweb, Moth, and
Mustard-seed, who sprang from nowhere, danced in an inner circle round
the Fairy Queen. They sang as they danced, and this is their song. I
found it afterwards in a book of Father's, which he said had in it more
wonderful things than all books in the world but one:
"By the moon we sport and play,
With the night begins our day.
As we frisk the dew doth fall,
Trip it, little urchins all.
Lightly as the little bee,
Two by two and three by three,
And about goe wee, goe wee."
"And about goe wee, goe wee!" echoed down the glade, and then the
Elves suddenly disappeared, with Puck and Titania and her attendants.
The wood was growing darker every minute, but the sparkles of frost were
glittering still, and lit my way. At the end of the scrub I saw Father
coming to meet me, swinging down the road with such long steps that he
looked like a kindly big giant. He had guessed where I had gone, and he
was so pleased to find me that he forgot to say I mustn't explore any
more without him, as I was afraid he would. He took my hand, and we both
ran; it was lovely at home by the fire.
I meant to have told him about Queen Titania while we were having tea,
but Nancy had made such scrumptious cakes that there wasn't time at
first, and before I had finished he began to open the letters that had
come just after he left that morning. They seemed to be all bills, and
Father sighed as he looked them over, his forehead puckered into rucks
and lines. Presently he came to a big blue envelope, and he turned
this round and round as if he thought there might be something horrid
inside. The paper crackled like anything as he drew it out, and when it
was unfolded he sat looking at it for a long time, though there didn't
seem to be much writing. At last he gave an odd kind of gasp, and took
my face between his hands. He pressed it so hard that he made me say
"O!" though I didn't want to do this, and I wondered what had happened.
"Your great-aunt Helen is dead, Chris," he said at last, as he let me
go. "I haven't seen her for years and years.... She was not over kind to
me when I was a lad, though I believe she meant well.... And now she's
left us all her money. We shan't be poor any more."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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