Chapter II: Part 2

“The man was afraid to tell his wife why he wanted the head cooked. He knew she was very fond of her son, and he reasoned to himself that if she knew what the stranger had said she would give the head to the boy. So he only told her to be careful to cook the fowl’s head and save it for him.

“The wife did as she was bid. She cooked the fowl and the fowl’s head, and placed them away in the cupboard until her husband and her son came home. It happened that something kept the husband in the village a little later than usual, and while the woman was waiting for him her son came in and said he was very hungry.

“‘You will find something in the cupboard,’ his mother said. ‘Eat a little now, and when your stepfather returns we will have supper.’

“The boy went to the cupboard. The fowl was on a big dish ready to be carved, and the head was in the saucer by itself. To save time and trouble the boy took the head and ate it, and then felt as if he could wait for supper very comfortably. The husband came, and the woman proceeded to set the table. When she came to look for the fowl’s head it was gone.

“‘Why, I ate it,’ said her son, when he heard her exclamation of surprise. ‘I found it in the saucer, and I ate it rather than cut the fowl.’

“The stepfather was angry enough to tear his hair, but he said nothing. The next day the boy went hunting. He was ready to return about noon, but, being tired, he stretched himself in the shade of a tree and was soon sound asleep.

THEY SAW THE HANDSOME BOY SLEEPING
]

“While he was sleeping his soundest, the nine men who had been appointed by the people to find them a king chanced to pass that way. They saw the handsome boy sleeping in the shade of the tree, and they stationed themselves around and watched him. For four long hours they watched the boy, but still the shadow of the tree kept the sun from his face. The nine men consulted among themselves, and they came to the conclusion that the shadow of the tree hadn’t moved, and that the boy was a well-favored lad who would look very well when he was dressed up and put on a throne with a crown on his head.

“So they shook the boy and aroused him from his sleep.

“‘What’s your name?’ asked the spokesman.

“‘Telambus,’ replied the boy.

“‘Where do you live?’

“‘Not far from here.’

“‘How would you like to be king?’

“‘I have never tried it. Is it an easy trade to learn?’

“The nine men looked at each other shrewdly and smiled. They each had the same thought.

“They went with the boy to his home and saw his mother, and inquired about his age and his education, and asked a hundred other questions besides. They cautioned the woman as they were leaving to say nothing of their visit except this, that they were going about hunting for a king and had called to make some inquiries.

“When her husband came home he had already heard of the visit of the distinguished company, and so he asked his wife a thousand questions. All the answer he got was that the visitors were hunting for a king.

“‘I’m sure it was for me they were hunting,’ said the man. ‘How unfortunate that I was away.’

“‘Well, don’t worry,’ replied his wife. ‘If they ever intended to make you king, they’ll come back after you.’

“‘You don’t seem to think much about it,’ remarked the man, ‘but some of these days you’ll find out that you narrowly escaped being the king’s wife.’

“The nine citizens were so certain that they had found the right person to rule over their country as king, that they made haste to return to the capital city and tell the news to the eleven wise men who had sent them out. They made their report, and the eleven wise men put their heads together once more. When they had consulted together a long time, they said to the people:—

“‘There is one test by which you may know whether a king has been found. Send a messenger and ask this young man to send us a rope made of sand a hundred feet long.’

“The messenger straightway went to the house of Telambus and told him what the eleven wise men had said. His mother straightway fell to crying. But Telambus laughed at her fears.

“‘Tell the eleven wise men,’ he said to the messenger, ‘that there are various patterns of sand ropes. Let them send me a sample of the kind they want—a piece only a foot long—and I will make them one a hundred feet long.’

“The messenger returned to the eleven wise men and told them what Telambus had said. They put their heads together again and then told the people that the young man was wise enough to be their king. There was great rejoicing then, and the nine wise men who had found him went to fetch him.

“But Telambus shook his head. ‘Kings are not carried about in this way. Where are your banners and your chariots? Where are your drums and your cymbals?’

“So the nine men returned to the eleven wise men and told them what Telambus had said.

“‘He is right,’ said the eleven wise men. ‘He is a king already. Get your horses, your chariots, your banners, and your music, and bring our king in as he deserves to be brought.’

“So Telambus was made the king of that country.”

At this point Mrs. Meadows began to hunt for a knitting-needle she had dropped, and the children knew that the story was ended.

“That was a pretty good story,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “It was short and sweet, as the king-bird said to the honey-bee.”

“Dey wuz too much kingin’ in it ter suit me. Ef folks got ter have kings, how come we ain’t got none?” asked Drusilla.

“Please tell me about the little girl with the vial of sparkling water from the Well at the End of the World,” said Sweetest Susan to Mr. Thimblefinger. “I expect she is nearly grown by this time.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, “she has now grown to be quite a young lady.”

“Huh!” grunted Drusilla, “ef folks grow up dat quick, I dunner what hinder me from bein’ a ol’ gray-head ’oman by sundown.”

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VI.

THE MAGIC RING.

“Don’t you see,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, with apparent seriousness, “that if we hadn’t left off the story of the little girl who went to the Well at the End of the World just where we did, she would have had no time to grow?”

Buster John smiled faintly, but Sweetest Susan took the statement seriously, though she said nothing. Drusilla boldly indorsed it.

“I speck dat’s so,” she said, “kaze when de lil’ gal got back home wid dat vial she wa’n’t in no fix fer ter cut up dem kind er capers what de tales tell about.”

“Certainly not,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, “but now she has had time to grow up to be a young lady, almost. Names go for so little down here that I haven’t told you hers. She was named Eolen. Some said it was a beautiful name, but her stepmother and her stepmother’s daughter said it was very ugly. Anyhow, that was her name, and whether it was ugly or whether it was beautiful, she had to make the best of it.

“Well, Eolen went home when the old man gave her the vial of water from the Well at the End of the World. She hid the vial beneath her apron until she reached her own room, and then she placed it at the very bottom of her little trunk,—a trunk that had belonged to her mother, who was dead.

“Nothing happened for a long time. Whenever Friday fell on the thirteenth of a month, Eolen would rub a drop of the sparkling water on her forehead, and she grew to be the loveliest young lady that ever was seen. Her stepsister was not bad-looking, but, compared with Eolen, she was ugly. The contrast between them was so great that people could not help noticing it and making remarks about it. Some of these remarks came to the ears of her stepmother.

“Now a stepmother can be just as nice and as good as anybody, but this particular stepmother cared for nothing except her own child, and she soon came to hate Eolen for being so beautiful. She had never treated the child kindly, but now she began to treat her cruelly. Eolen never told her father, but somehow he seemed to know what was going on, and he treated her more affectionately each day, as her stepmother grew more cruel.

“This lasted for some time, but finally Eolen’s father fell ill and died, and then, although she had many admirers, she was left without a friend she could confide in or rely on. To make matters worse, her stepmother produced a will in which her husband had left everything to her and nothing to Eolen. The poor girl didn’t know what to do. She knew that her father had made no such will, but how could she prove it? She happened to think of the vial of sparkling waters. She found it and turned it upside down.

“On the instant there was a loud knock at the street door. Eolen would have gone to open it, but her stepmother was there before her. She peeped from behind the curtains in the hallway, and saw a tall, richly-dressed stranger standing on the steps.

“‘I wish to see a young lady who lives here. She is the daughter of an old friend,’ said the stranger.

“The stepmother smiled very sweetly. ‘Come in. I will call her.’

“But instead of calling Eolen she called her own daughter. The girl went, but not with a good grace. She had been petted and spoiled, and was very saucy and impolite. The stranger smiled when he saw her.

“‘What was my mother doing when you saw her sitting by the Well at the End of the World?’ he asked.

“‘Do you take me for a crazy person?’ replied the girl.

“‘By no means,’ said the stranger. ‘You are not the young lady I came to see.’

“The stepmother then called Eolen and stood in the room frowning to see what was going to happen. Eolen came as soon as she was called, and the stranger seemed to be much struck by her beauty and modesty. He took her by the hand and led her to a chair.

“‘What was my mother doing when you saw her sitting by the Well at the End of the World?’ he asked.

“‘She was combing her hair,’ replied Eolen.

“‘That is true,’ remarked the stranger. ‘Yes, she was combing her hair.’ Then he turned to the stepmother and said: ‘May I see this young lady alone for a little while? I have a message for her from an old friend.’

“‘Certainly!’ the stepmother answered. ‘I hope her friend is well-to-do, for her father has died without leaving her so much as a farthing.’ Having said this, the stepmother flounced from the room.

“‘I came at your summons,’ said the stranger; ‘you turned the vial of sparkling water upside down, and now I am here to do your bidding.’

“Then Eolen told him of the death of her father, and how he had left all of his property to her stepmother. The stranger listened attentively, and while he listened played with a heavy gold ring that he wore on his third finger. When Eolen was through with her story he took this ring from his finger and handed it to her.

“‘Look through that,’ he said, ‘and tell me what you see.’

“Eolen held the ring to one of her eyes, and peeped through the golden circle. She was so surprised that she came near dropping the ring. She had held it up toward the stranger, but instead of seeing him through the ring she seemed to be looking into a room in which some person was moving about. As she continued to look, the scene appeared to be a familiar one. The room was the one her stepmother occupied—the room in which her father had died. She saw her stepmother take from her father’s private drawer a folded paper and hide it behind the mantel. Then the scene vanished, and through the ring she saw the stranger smiling at her.

“‘What you have seen happened some time ago.’ He took the ring and replaced it on his finger. ‘Your stepmother is now coming this way. She has been trying to hear what we are saying. When she comes in, do you get your father’s real will from behind the mantel and bring it to me.’

“Sure enough the stepmother came into the room silently and suddenly. She pretended to be much surprised to find any one there.

“‘You must excuse me,’ she said to the stranger. ‘I imagined I heard you take your leave some time ago.’

“‘You are excusable,’ replied the stranger. ‘I have been reflecting rather than talking. I have been thinking what could be done for your stepdaughter, who must be quite a burden to you.’

“The stepmother took this for an invitation to tell what she knew about Eolen, and you may be sure she didn’t waste any praise on the young lady. But right in the midst of it all Eolen, who had gone out, returned and handed the stranger the folded paper that had been hid behind the mantel. The stepmother recognized it and turned pale.

“‘This,’ said the stranger, opening the paper and reading it at a glance, ‘is your father’s will. I see he has left you half the property.’

“‘That is the will my husband forgot to destroy,’ cried the stepmother. ‘I have the real will.’

“‘May I see it?’ asked the stranger.

“The stepmother ran to fetch it, but when the stranger had opened it, not a line nor a word of writing could be found on it.

“‘I see you are fond of a joke,’ said the stranger, but the stepmother had fallen into a chair and sat with her face hid in her hands. ‘I am fond of a joke myself,’ continued the stranger, ‘and I think I can match yours.’

“With that the stranger took the real will, tore it in small pieces and threw it into the fireplace.

“‘What have you done?’ cried Eolen.

“‘The most difficult thing in the world,’ replied the stranger; ‘I have made this lady happy.’

“And sure enough the stepmother was smiling and thanking him.

“‘I thought you were my enemy,’ she said, ‘but now I see you are my friend indeed. How can I repay you?’

“‘By treating this young lady here as your daughter,’ he replied. ‘Have no fear,’ he said, turning to Eolen. ‘No harm can befall you. What I have done is for the best.’

“But before he went away he gave Eolen the gold ring, and told her to wear it for the sake of his mother, who sat by the Well at the End of the World. She thanked him for his kindness and promised she would keep the ring and treasure it as long as she lived.

“But there was one trouble with this magic ring. It was too large for any of Eolen’s fingers. She had the whitest and most beautiful hands ever seen, but the ring would fit none of her fingers. Around her neck she wore a necklace of coral beads, and on this necklace she hung the ring.

“For many day’s Eolen’s stepmother was kind to her, almost too kind. But the woman was afraid her stepdaughter would inform the judges of her effort to steal and hide her husband’s will. The judges were very severe in those days and in that country, and if the woman had been brought before them and such a crime proven on her, she would have been sent to the rack.”

“What is a rack?” asked Sweetest Susan.

“Hit’s de place whar dey scrunch folks’s ve’y vitals out’n ’em,” said Drusilla solemnly.

“That’s about right, I reckon,” assented Mr. Thimblefinger. “Well, the stepmother was as kind to Eolen as she knew how to be, but the kindness didn’t last long. She hated her stepdaughter worse than ever. She was afraid of her, but she didn’t hate her any the less on that account.

“Eolen had a habit of taking off her coral necklace and placing it under her pillow at night. One night, when she was fast asleep, her stepmother crept into the room and slipped the ring from the necklace. She had no idea it was a magic ring. She said to herself that it would look better on her daughter’s finger than it did on Eolen’s coral necklace, so she took the ring and slipped it on the finger of her sleeping daughter, and then stepped back a little to admire the big golden circle on the coarse, red hand.

“Almost immediately the daughter began to toss and tumble in her sleep. She flung her arms wildly about and tried to talk. The mother, becoming alarmed, tried to wake her, but it was some time before the girl could be roused from her troubled sleep.

“‘Oh!’ she cried, when she awoke, ‘what is the matter with me? I dreamed some one was cutting my finger off. What was it? Oh! it hurts me still!’

“She held up the finger on which her mother had placed the ring and tried to tear off the golden band. ‘It burns—it burns!’ she cried. ‘Take it off.’

“Her mother tried to take the ring off, but it was some time before she succeeded. Her daughter struggled and cried so that it was a hard matter to remove the ring, which seemed to be as hot as fire. A red blister was left on the girl’s finger, and she was in great pain.

HER STEPMOTHER CREPT INTO THE ROOM
]

“‘What have I done?’ the mother cried, seeing her daughter’s condition. The two made so much noise that Eolen awoke and went to the door to find out what the trouble was.

“‘Go away, you hussy!’ screamed the stepmother when she saw Eolen at the door. ‘Go away! You are a witch!’

“‘Why, what have I done?’ Eolen asked.

“‘You are the cause of all this trouble. For amusement I placed your gold ring on my dear daughter’s finger, and now see her condition!’

“‘Why, then, did you take my ring? If you had left it where I placed it, you would have had none of this trouble.’ Eolen spoke with so much dignity that her stepmother was surprised into silence, though she could talk faster and louder than a flutter-mill. But finally she found her voice.

“‘Go away! You are a witch!’ she said to Eolen.

“But Eolen went boldly into the room. ‘Give me my ring!’ she exclaimed. ‘You shall wrong me no further. Give me my ring! I will have it!’

“This roused the stepmother’s temper. She searched on the floor till she found the ring. Then she opened a window and flung it as far as she could send it.

“‘Now let’s see you get it!’ she cried. With that she seized Eolen by the arm and pushed her from the room, saying, ‘Go away, you witch!’

“Now, then,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, after pausing to take breath, “what was the poor girl to do?” He looked at Sweetest Susan as if expecting her to answer the question.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Sweetest Susan.

“Shake up de bottle,” exclaimed Drusilla.

“Exactly so,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

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VII.

THE COW WITH THE GOLDEN HORNS.

“I hope that isn’t all of the story,—if you call it a story,” said Buster John.

“Which?” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, with an air of having forgotten the whole business.

“Why, that about throwing the gold ring from the window,” replied Buster John.

“Well, no,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, in an absent-minded way. “In a book, you know, you can read right on if you want to, or you can put the book down and rest yourself when you get tired. But when I’m telling a story, you must give me time to rest. I’m so little, you know, that it doesn’t take much to tire me. Of course, if you don’t like the story, I can stop any time. It’s no trouble at all to stop. Just wink your eye at me twice, and I’m mum.”

“Oh, we don’t want you to stop,” said Sweetest Susan.

“No, don’t stop,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, drowsily, “because then everybody gets to talking, and I can’t doze comfortably. Your stories are as comforting to me as a feather-bed.”

“Then I’ll add a bolster to the bed,” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. He hesitated a moment, and then went on with the story:—

“Of course, Eolen didn’t know what to do when her stepmother threw the gold ring from the window and pushed her from the room. She went back to her bed and lay down, but she couldn’t sleep. After a while daylight came, and then she dressed herself and went down into the garden to hunt for the ring. She searched everywhere, but the ring was not to be found.

“Now the ring could have been found very easily if it had been where it fell when Eolen’s stepmother threw it from the window. But that night a tame crow, belonging to the Prince of that country, was roosting in one of the trees in the garden.”

“Oh, was it a sure enough Prince?” asked Sweetest Susan.

“Why, certainly,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, with great solemnity. “A make-believe Prince could never have reigned in that country. The people would have found him out, and he would have been put in the calaboose. Well, this tame crow that belonged to the Prince had wandered off over the fields, and had gone so far away from the palace that it was unable to get back before dark, and so it went to bed in one of the trees growing in the garden behind the house where Eolen lived.

“Of course, as soon as morning came, the crow was wide awake and ready for any mischief that might turn up. It flew to the ground, hoping to find something for breakfast, and hopped about, searching in the leaves and grass. Suddenly the crow saw the ring shining on the ground and picked it up and turned it over. What could it be? The crow’s curiosity was such that it forgot all about breakfast. It seized the ring in its beak and went flopping to the palace. It was so early in the morning that the palace was closed, but the crow flew straight to the Prince’s window and beat his wings against it until some of the attendants came and opened it, when the crow walked in with great dignity.

“The Prince had been awakened by the noise, but when he saw the bird stalking into the room as stiff as a major-general of militia, he fell back on his bed laughing. The crow hopped to the foot-board of the bed and stood there holding the gold ring in his beak, as much as to say, ‘Don’t you wish you were as rich as I am?’

“The Prince rose from his bed and took the ring from the crow, but it was so hot that he made haste to drop it in a basin of cold water. Then a curious thing happened. The ring seemed to expand in the basin until it was as large as the bottom, and within the circle it made the picture of a beautiful girl standing by a milk-white cow. There were two peculiarities about the milk-white cow. Her ears were as black as jet, and her horns shone and glittered as if they were made of gold.

“The Prince was entranced. He gazed at the beautiful picture long and lovingly, and the crow sat on the rim of the basin and chuckled as proudly as if it had painted the picture. The girl was the loveliest the Prince had ever seen, and the cow was surely the most beautiful of her kind. The Prince’s attendants uttered exclamations of delight when they saw the picture, and his ministers, when they were sent for, were struck dumb with astonishment.

“‘If this bird could only speak!’ cried the Prince.

“But the crow went chuckling about the room saying to itself, ‘What a fool a Prince must be who cannot understand my simple language!’

“The Prince gazed at the picture framed by the gold ring for a long time. At last he concluded to take it from the water. As he did so it shrunk to its natural size, and the picture of the beautiful girl and the Cow with the Golden Horns disappeared, and the ring no longer burnt his fingers. He dropped it in the basin once more, but it remained a simple gold ring and the picture failed to appear again.

“The Prince was disconsolate. He remained in the palace and refused to go out. He moped and pined, until the family doctor was called in. The doctor fussed about and felt of the Prince’s pulse and looked at his tongue, and said that a change of air was necessary; but the Prince said he didn’t want any change of air and wouldn’t have it. In fact, he said he didn’t want any air at all, and he wouldn’t take any pills or powders, and he wouldn’t drink any sage tea, and he wouldn’t have any mustard plaster put on him. He was in love, and he knew that the more medicine he took, the worse off he would be.”

“Well, a little sage tea ain’t bad when you are in love,” remarked Mrs. Meadows. “It’s mighty soothing.”

“Maybe,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “but the Prince didn’t want it, and wouldn’t have it. He wanted the beautiful girl he had seen in the picture. He was in love with her, and he wanted to marry her. So his ministers consulted together and finally they sent around a bailiff”—

“Nonsense!” cried Mrs. Meadows.

“Tut—tut!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit.

“Well,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “he sent a crier around”—

“A herald, you mean,” suggested Buster John, who had read a good many story books.

“A bailiff could do the work just as well, but you can have it your way. Well,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, “the Prince’s ministers sent a herald around to inquire at all the people’s houses if any of them had a Cow with Golden Horns, but nobody had such a cow, and everybody wondered what the herald meant. A Cow with Golden Horns! People went about asking one another if they had ever heard of such a thing before. Some said the throne was tottering. Others said the politicians were trying to work a scheme to increase taxation. Still others talked about the peril of the nation. Everybody had some explanation, but nobody had the right one. The poor young Prince was nearly crazy to find the young girl whose picture he had seen in the basin of water.

“For a few days the people heard no more of the matter, but at the end of a week the herald went round the city again declaring that the Prince would marry any young lady who would bring as her marriage portion a Cow with Golden Horns. She need not have riches of any kind; all that was necessary was a Cow with Golden Horns. This word went around among the people and from city to city. Rich men with daughters tried everywhere to buy a Cow with Golden Horns, but all to no purpose.

“The Prince waited and waited and pined and grew thinner. But just as matters were getting to be very serious indeed, an old man appeared in the palace park leading a beautiful white cow with jet black ears and golden horns. The servants set up such a shout when they saw the beautiful cow that everybody in the palace was aroused and all came out to see what caused the noise. Then the servants and attendants ran over one another in their efforts to reach the Prince, who was moping in his room. As they ran they cried:—

“‘The Cow with the Golden Horns has come! The Cow with the Golden Horns has come!’

“The Prince forgot his dignity and hurried out to see the Cow with the Golden Horns. The old man came leading her, and she was, indeed, a beautiful creature. Her head and limbs were almost as delicate as those of a deer, and her eyes were large and soft. Her body was as white as snow, her ears glistened like black silk, and her golden horns shone in the sun. The old man bowed low as he led the beautiful cow forward.

“‘I wouldn’t make much of a bride myself, your Majesty,’ he said. ‘I have brought you the Cow with the Golden Horns. She might find you the bride that I failed to bring you.’

“‘I fear I shall have no such good fortune,’ replied the Prince. ‘But I think you have proved to me that I am not dreaming. How shall I reward you?’

“‘I ask no reward, your Majesty. I only ask the privilege of taking away my Cow with the Golden Horns when you have found your bride.’

“When the Prince had given his promise, the old man said, ‘You have a ring, your Majesty, that came to you in a curious way. Let this ring be placed on the left horn of the cow. The girl or woman that is able to remove this ring will be the bride you are wishing for. Every morning the Cow with the Golden Horns will appear here in the lawn and remain until night falls. Let it be announced, your Majesty, that whoever takes the ring from her shall be the Princess of the Realm.’”

“Huh!” exclaimed Drusilla suddenly. “He talk like he been ter college.”

“Will you hush?” cried Buster John. But Mr. Thimblefinger paid no attention to the interruption.

“‘But how do you know,’ asked the Prince, ‘that the right one will come to get the ring?’

“‘How do I know that your Majesty has the ring?’ the old man answered.

“This seemed to satisfy the Prince, who caused it to be announced all through his kingdom that he would choose for his bride the girl or woman who would take the ring from the golden horn of the Cow.

“Of course there was a great commotion among the ladies when this announcement was made, and nearly all of them tried to take the ring from the golden horn of the Cow. Some said they tried it just for fun, and some said they tried it just out of curiosity; but all of them failed. Even Eolen’s stepmother tried, and then she made her daughter try, but when the daughter touched the ring it burnt her so that she screamed. And then some of those who had tried and failed turned up their noses and said it was a trick.

“Eolen had never thought of trying. She had seen the Prince and admired him, yet she had no idea of going up before all these people. But as soon as her stepmother started for the palace with her daughter, there came a knock at the door. Eolen opened it, and there, standing before her, was the old man who had carried her to the Thunder’s house, and to the Jumping-Off Place. She was very glad to see him, and told him so, and he was just as glad to see her.

“‘Why don’t you go and get your ring?’ he asked.

“‘It is lost,’ she answered.

“‘It is found,’ he said. ‘I have placed it on the golden horn of the Cow that stands near the palace door. You must go and get it.’

“‘I have nothing to wear,’ she replied.

“Then the old man tapped on the wall and called:—

“‘Sister Jane! Sister Jane! Where are you?’

“‘I am where I ought to be,’ was the reply. The wall opened and out stepped the old, old woman that Eolen had seen combing her hair by the Well at the End of the World.

“‘Clothe this child in silk and satin and comb her hair out fine, Sister Jane.’

“The old woman grumbled a little, but gave Eolen a touch here and there, and in a moment she was dressed as fine as the finest lady in the land.

“‘Now she is ready, brother,’ said the old, old woman, and then she disappeared in the wall, combing her long gray hair and smiling.

“‘Must I walk?’ asked Eolen, looking at her satin slippers.

“‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed the old man. Then he tapped in another part of the wall. ‘Nephew! Nephew! Where are you?’

“‘Wherever you wish me to be,’ a voice replied, and then the wall opened, and out stepped the handsome stranger who had given Eolen the gold ring. ‘What do you want?’

“‘A carriage and horses,’ said the old man.

“‘They are at the door,’ was the reply, ‘and I’ll drive them myself.’

“Sure enough, there stood at the door a coach and four, and Eolen was carried to the palace in grand style. Liveried servants appeared and spread a strip of carpet before her, and the Cow with the Golden Horns came running to meet her, and in a moment she had the ring. Then the people set up a loud shout, crying:—

“‘The Princess! the Princess!’

SHE WOULD HAVE KNELT, BUT HE LIFTED HER UP
]

“And then the Prince came out and went to her. She would have knelt, but he lifted her up and knelt himself before her, and kissed her hand, and smiled on her, for she was the lovely girl he had seen in the picture.”

“What is the moral of that?” inquired Mr. Rabbit, waking from his nap.

“Why, you didn’t even hear the story,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“That is the reason I want to hear the moral of it,” remarked Mr. Rabbit.

“There is no moral at all,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

“Then I’m mighty glad I was asleep,” grumbled Mr. Rabbit.

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VIII.

BROTHER WOLF’S TWO BIG DINNERS.

The children said they were very much pleased with the story about the Cow with the Golden Horns. Buster John even went so far as to say that it was as good as some of the stories in the books. But Mr. Thimblefinger shook his head. He said he was very glad they were pleased with it, but he knew Mr. Rabbit was right. The story couldn’t be a very good story, because it had no moral.

“But I think it had a very good moral,” remarked Mrs. Meadows.

“What was it?” inquired Mr. Rabbit with great solemnity.

“Why, if the little girl had been too stingy to give the old beggar a piece of her cake, she would never have come to be Princess,” replied Mrs. Meadows.

“Did she give the beggar a piece of cake?” asked Mr. Rabbit.

“Why, certainly she did,” Mr. Thimblefinger answered.

“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, setting himself back in his chair, “I must have been fast asleep when she did it. But the place for a moral, as I’ve been told, is right at the end of a story, and not at the beginning.”

“Can’t you tell us a story with a moral?” suggested Mrs. Meadows.

“I can,” replied Mr. Rabbit. “I can for a fact, and the piece of cake you mentioned puts me in mind of it.”

Mr. Rabbit closed his eyes and rubbed his nose, and then began:—

“Once upon a time, when Brother Fox and myself were living on pretty good terms with each other, we received an invitation to attend a barbecue that Brother Wolf was going to give on the following Saturday. The next day we received an invitation to a barbecue that Brother Bear was going to give on the same Saturday.

“I made up my mind at once to go to Brother Bear’s barbecue, because I knew he would have fresh roasting ears, and if there’s anything I like better than another, it is fresh roasting ears. I asked Brother Fox whether he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue or to Brother Wolf’s, but he shook his head. He said he hadn’t made up his mind. I just asked him out of idle curiosity, for I didn’t care whether he went or whether he stayed.

“I went about my work as usual. Cold weather was coming on, and I wanted to get my crops in before the big freeze came. But I noticed that Brother Fox was mighty restless in his mind. He didn’t do a stroke of work. He’d sit down and then he’d get up; he’d stand still and look up in the tops of the trees, and then he’d walk back and forth with his hands behind him and look down at the ground.

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope you are not sick, Brother Fox.’

“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit; I never felt better in my life.’

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope money matters are not troubling you.’

“Says he, ‘Oh, no, Brother Rabbit, money was never easier with me than it is this season.’

“I says to him, says I, ‘I hope I’ll have the pleasure of your company to the barbecue to-morrow.’

“Says he, ‘I can’t tell, Brother Rabbit; I can’t tell. I haven’t made up my mind. I may go to the one, or I may go to the other; but which it will be, I can’t tell you to save my life.’

“As the next day was Saturday, I was up bright and early. I dug my goobers and spread ’em out to dry in the sun, and then, ten o’clock, as near as I could judge, I started out to the barbecue. Brother Wolf lived near the river, and Brother Bear lived right on the river, a mile or two below Brother Wolf’s. The big road, that passed near where Brother Fox and I lived, led in the direction of the river for about three miles, and then it forked, one prong going to Brother Wolf’s house, and the other prong going to Brother Bear’s house.

“Well, when I came to the forks of the road, who should I see there but old Brother Fox. I stopped before he saw me, and watched him. He went a little way down one road, and licked his chops; then he came back and went a little way down the other road, and licked his chops.

“Not choosing to be late, I showed myself and passed the time of day with Brother Fox. I said, says I, that if he was going to Brother Bear’s barbecue, I’d be glad to have his company. But he said, says he, that he wouldn’t keep me waiting. He had just come down to the forks of the road to see if that would help him to make up his mind. I told him I was mighty sorry to miss his company and his conversation, and then I tipped my hat and took my cane from under my arm and went down the road that led to Brother Bear’s house.”

Here Mr. Rabbit paused, straightened himself up a little, and looked at the children. Then he continued:—

“I reckon you all never stood on the top of a hill three quarters of a mile from the smoking pits and got a whiff or two of the barbecue?”

“I is! I is!” exclaimed Drusilla. “Don’t talk! Hit make me dribble at de mouf. I wish I had some right now.”

HE WENT A LITTLE WAY DOWN ONE ROAD
]

“Well,” said Mr. Rabbit, “I got a whiff of it and I was truly glad I had come—truly glad. It was a fine barbecue, too. There was lamb, and kid, and shote, all cooked to a turn and well seasoned, and then there was the hash made out of the giblets. I’ll not tell you any more about the dinner, except that I’d like to have one like it every Saturday in the year. If I happened to be too sick to eat it, I could sit up and look at it. Anyhow, we all had enough and to spare.

“After we had finished with the barbecue and were sitting in Brother Bear’s front porch smoking our pipes and talking politics, I happened to mention to Brother Bear something about Brother Wolf’s barbecue. I said, says I, that I thought I’d go by Brother Wolf’s house as I went on home, though it was a right smart step out of the way, just to see how the land lay.

“Says Brother Bear, says he: ‘If you’ll wait till my company take their leave, I don’t mind trotting over to Brother Wolf’s with you. The walk will help to settle my dinner.’

“So, about two hours by sun, we started out and went to Brother Wolf’s house. Brother Bear knew a short cut through the big canebrake, and it didn’t take us more than half an hour to get there. Brother Wolf was just telling his company good-by; and when they had all gone he would have us go in and taste his mutton stew, and then he declared he’d think right hard of us if we didn’t drink a mug or two of his persimmon beer.

“I said, says I, ‘Brother Wolf, have you seen Brother Fox to-day?’

“Brother Wolf said, says he, ‘I declare, I haven’t seen hair nor hide of Brother Fox. I don’t see why he didn’t come. He’s always keen to go where there’s fresh meat a-frying.’

“I said, says I, ‘The reason I asked was because I left Brother Fox at the forks of the road trying to make up his mind whether he’d eat at your house or at Brother Bear’s.’

“‘Well, I’m mighty sorry,’ says Brother Wolf, says he; ‘Brother Fox never missed a finer chance to pick a bone than he’s had to-day. Please tell him so for me.’

“I said I would, and then I told Brother Wolf and Brother Bear good-by and set out for home. Brother Wolf’s persimmon beer had a little age on it, and it made me light-headed and nimble-footed. I went in a gallop, as you may say, and came to the forks of the road before the sun went down.

“You may not believe it, but when I got there Brother Fox was there going through the same motions that made me laugh in the morning—running down one road and licking his chops, and then running down the other and licking his chops.

“Says I, ‘I hope you had a good dinner at Brother Wolf’s to-day, Brother Fox.’

“Says he, ‘I’ve had no dinner.’

“Says I, ‘That’s mighty funny. Brother Bear had a famous barbecue, and I thought Brother Wolf was going to have one, too.’

“Says Brother Fox, ‘Is dinner over? Is it too late to go?’

“Says I, ‘Why, Brother Fox, the sun’s nearly down. By the time you get to Brother Bear’s house, he’ll be gone to bed; and by the time you go across the swamp to Brother Wolf’s house, the chickens will be crowing for day.’

“‘Well, well, well!’ says Brother Fox, ‘I’ve been all day trying to make up my mind which road I’d take, and now it’s too late.’

“And that was the fact,” continued Mr. Rabbit. “The poor creature had been all day trying to make up his mind which road he’d take. Now, then, what is the moral?”

Sweetest Susan looked at Mrs. Meadows, but Mrs. Meadows merely smiled. Buster John rattled the marbles in his pocket.

“I know,” said Drusilla.

“What?” inquired Mr. Rabbit.

“Go down one road an’ git one dinner, den cut ’cross an’ git some mo’ dinner, an’ den go back home down de yuther road.”

Mr. Rabbit shook his head.

“Tar-Baby, you are wrong,” he said.

“If you want anything, go and get it,” suggested Buster John.

Mr. Rabbit shook his head and looked at Sweetest Susan, whereupon she said:—

“If you can’t make up your mind, you’ll have to go hungry.”

Mr. Rabbit shook his head.

“Eat a good breakfast,” said Mrs. Meadows, “and you won’t be worried about your dinner.”

“All wrong!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit, with a chuckle. “The moral is this: He who wants too much is more than likely to get nothing.”

“Well,” remarked Mrs. Meadows dubiously, “if you have to work out a moral as if it was a sum in arithmetic, I’ll thank you not to trouble me with any more morals.”

“The motion is seconded and carried,” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

IX.

THE LITTLE BOY OF THE LANTERN.

“Of course,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, “all of you can tell better stories than I can, because you are larger. Being taller, you can see farther and talk louder; but I sometimes think that if I was to climb a tree, I’d see as far as any of you.”

“Well, I hope your feelings are not hurt,” remarked Mr. Rabbit sympathetically. “It’s not the fault of your stories that I fall asleep when you are telling them. It’s my habit to sit and nod at certain hours of the day, and if you’ll watch me right close, you’ll see that I sometimes drop off when I’m telling a story myself. I’ll try and keep awake the next time you tell one.”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to prop Mr. Rabbit’s eyelids open with straws,” said Mrs. Meadows, laughing.

“I’ll just try you with a little one,” Mr. Thimblefinger declared. “I’ll tell you one I heard when I was younger. I want to see whether Mr. Rabbit will keep awake, and I want to see whether there’s a moral in the tale.”

So he took off his little hat, which was shaped like a thimble, and run his hand over the feather ornament to straighten it out. Then he began:—

“A long time ago, when there was a great deal more room in the country next door than there is now, there lived a man who had a wife, one son, a horse, a cow, and a calf. He was a hard-working man, so much so that he had little or no time to devote to his family. He worked hard in the field all day, and when night came he was too tired to trouble much about his son. His wife, too, having no servant, was always busy about the house, sewing, washing, cooking, cleaning, patching, milking, and sweeping. Day in and day out it was always the same. The man was always working, and the woman was always working. They had no rest except on Sunday, and then they were too tired to pay much attention to their son.

“The consequence was, that while the boy was a very bright lad, he was full of mischief, up to all sorts of tricks and pranks that some people call meanness. By hook or by crook—or maybe by book—he had learned how to spell and read. But the only book he had to read was one with big pictures of men dressed in red clothes, and armed with yellow cutlasses. The book was called ‘The Pirooters of Peruvia.’”

“Maybe the name was ‘The Pirates of Peru,’” suggested Buster John.

“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger. “I don’t suppose any such country as Peru had been found on the map when that book was written. But never mind about that. The boy read only that book, and he became rather wild in his mind. He wanted to be a pirooter, whatever that was, and so he armed himself with old hoe helves and called them pikes, and he tied a shingle to his side and called it a cutlass, and he got him a broom-handle and called it a horse.

“This boy’s name was Johnny, but sometimes they called him Jack for short. Some people said he was mean as he could be; but I don’t say that. He was fonder of scampering over the country than he was of helping his mother. Maybe he didn’t know any better because he wasn’t taught any better. But one morning his mother was so tired that she couldn’t get out of bed. She had worn herself out with work. The next morning she couldn’t get up, nor the next; and then the neighbors, who had come in to see what the matter was, said that she would never get up any more. So one day Johnny found everything very still in the house, and the neighbors who were there were kinder to him than they ever had been, and then he knew that his mother would never get tired any more.

“He felt so bad that he wandered off into the woods, crying as he went. His eyes were so full of tears that he couldn’t see where he was going, and he didn’t care. He went on and on, until, finally, when he took heart to look around, he found himself in a part of the country that was new to him. This caused him to dry his eyes, for he was perfectly sure that he had traveled neither fast nor far enough to be beyond the limits of the numberless journeys he had made in all directions from his father’s house; and yet, here he was, suddenly and without knowing how he got there, in a country that was altogether new to him.

“It was just like when you came down through our spring gate,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “The grass was different and the trees were different, and even the sand and the gravel were of a color that Johnny had never seen before. Suddenly, while he was wondering how he could have missed seeing all these strange things when he had journeyed this way before, a lady, richly dressed, came out of the woods and stood before him. She neither smiled nor looked severe, but pity seemed to shine in her face.

“‘What now?’ she said, raising her hand to her head. ‘You have come fast and come far. You are in trouble. Go back. When you want me, go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill and call my name.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked Johnny, forgetting to be polite, if he ever knew how.

“‘The Keeper of the Cows that roam in the night,’ replied the lady. ‘When you go to the Whispering Poplar that stands on the hill, whisper this:—

O Keeper of Cows that roam in the night,
Come over the hill and lend me your light.’

“Johnny would have thanked the woman, but in the twinkling of an eye she was gone without making a sound, and not a blade of grass shook to show that she had been there. Johnny turned in his tracks and started home the way he came. Before he had gone far he stopped to look back, but the strange country was nowhere to be seen—only the old familiar hills and trees that he had always known.

“When he got home there was a strange woman cooking and fixing his father’s supper. The table was set, and everything was almost as neat and as tidy as it used to be when his mother was alive. Even his own little plate was in its place, and his mug, with the picture of a blue castle painted on it, was by the plate. But Johnny had no appetite. He went to the door and looked in, and then went to the stable. Once there, he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to drive the cow in from the pasture. He went running to get her, but found her coming along of her own accord, something she was not in the habit of doing.

A LADY, RICHLY DRESSED, CAME OUT OF THE WOODS
]

“Johnny wondered a little at this, but it soon passed out of his mind, and he got behind the cow and made her go faster. He drove the cow into the lot, and waited awhile for the woman to come and milk. But she delayed so long that he went to the house and found his father eating supper. Instead of going to the table, he went and sat by the fire.

“‘Have something to eat?’ said the woman.

“‘I am not hungry,’ he replied.

“‘Have a glass of fresh milk, then?’ she said.

“‘Not to-night,’ he answered. ‘I have just driven the cow in from the pasture.’

“‘I brought her from the pasture myself,’ said the woman, ‘milked her, and turned her out again.’

“Johnny said nothing to this, but he knew the cow had not been milked, and he wondered where the woman got the milk that his father was drinking. He thought it over, and forgot all about his grief. He noticed that as soon as his father drank the milk he began to smile at the woman. He smiled at the woman, but was cross to Johnny.