‘So you don’t like my long nose, sonny? Well, you shall have one
yourself, right down to your chin.’
As she spoke she shuffled towards the hamper of cabbages, took up one
after another, squeezed them hard, and threw them back, muttering again,
‘Bad stuff, bad stuff.’
‘Don’t waggle your head in that horrid way,’ begged Jem anxiously. ‘Your
neck is as thin as a cabbage-stalk, and it might easily break and your
head fall into the basket, and then who would buy anything?’
‘Don’t you like thin necks?’ laughed the old woman. ‘Then you sha’n’t
have any, but a head stuck close between your shoulders so that it may
be quite sure not to fall off.’
‘Don’t talk such nonsense to the child,’ said the mother at last.
‘If you wish to buy, please make haste, as you are keeping other
customers away.’
‘Very well, I will do as you ask,’ said the old woman, with an angry
look. ‘I will buy these six cabbages, but, as you see, I can only walk
with my stick and can carry nothing. Let your boy carry them home for me
and I’ll pay him for his trouble.’
The little fellow didn’t like this, and began to cry, for he was afraid
of the old woman, but his mother ordered him to go, for she thought
it wrong not to help such a weakly old creature; so, still crying, he
gathered the cabbages into a basket and followed the old woman across
the Market Place.
It took her more than half an hour to get to a distant part of the
little town, but at last she stopped in front of a small tumble-down
house. She drew a rusty old hook from her pocket and stuck it into a
little hole in the door, which suddenly flew open. How surprised Jem
was when they went in! The house was splendidly furnished, the walls and
ceiling of marble, the furniture of ebony inlaid with gold and precious
stones, the floor of such smooth slippery glass that the little fellow
tumbled down more than once.
The old woman took out a silver whistle and blew it till the sound rang
through the house. Immediately a lot of guinea pigs came running down
the stairs, but Jem thought it rather odd that they all walked on their
hind legs, wore nutshells for shoes, and men’s clothes, whilst even
their hats were put on in the newest fashion.
‘Where are my slippers, lazy crew?’ cried the old woman, and hit about
with her stick. ‘How long am I to stand waiting here?’
They rushed upstairs again and returned with a pair of cocoa nuts lined
with leather, which she put on her feet. Now all limping and shuffling
was at an end. She threw away her stick and walked briskly across the
glass floor, drawing little Jem after her. At last she paused in a room
which looked almost like a kitchen, it was so full of pots and pans, but
the tables were of mahogany and the sofas and chairs covered with the
richest stuffs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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