The marvellous land of Snergs
“Let’s hear your jolly tale,” she said, after a moment’s consideration.
“Well, then, good dame,” said Baldry, making a special effort, “there
was once an honest collector of the King’s taxes who----”
“Don’t believe it.”
“But this one _was_ honest,” pleaded Baldry.
“Then why didn’t you say he was a freak? Go on.”
“And this collector of taxes was on his way home after the day’s toil,
riding on his ass, when he met three beggars, who begged of him----”
“Well, that’s what they usually do, isn’t it? What’s there funny about
that?”
“Nothing very much,” replied Baldry. “But it will get better as I go
on.”
“Go on, then, what are you waiting for?”
“And so, good dame, being charitable as well as honest, he gave to the
first beggar a penny, to the second a piece of sausage, and to the
third a small loaf of bread. But the first beggar, having had a full
meal some half-hour before----”
“Excuse me for stopping you,” interrupted Mother Meldrum, “but I don’t
think I care to hear any more. You say it _is_ meant to be a funny
tale, don’t you?”
“It is generally so considered,” replied Baldry sulkily.
“To _me_,” said the old woman, “it’s about as funny as a bilious
attack.”
To those who know from experience--as I confess I do--how painful it
is to have one’s verbal efforts to be sparkling received with cold,
unappreciative looks or smiles in which pity lurks behind a mere
pretence at mirth, will appreciate how Baldry suffered from this
really pointed rudeness. He stood looking miserably at the venomous
old person, too distressed to notice that Sylvia was endeavouring to
console him by patting his hand. His profession was to make laughter,
to spread good humour, to (at meal times) set the table in a roar; yet
he was roaming the earth, an outcast, because of the ill-success of his
late jest with the King, and now he had failed again. Was he losing his
power to captivate? That is what troubled him.
A CHANGE OF TONE
Mother Meldrum got up and went back to her cooking, leaving them
standing, with Sylvia still knee deep in black cats.
“Look here, Mum,” said Gorbo, after an uncomfortable interval of
silence, “Golithos told me you’d be kind enough to tell me----”
“Golithos?” The old woman turned round smartly. “So you saw Golithos,
did you?”
“Yes, Mum, we stayed one night at his place. He said you came to see
him sometimes, and he told us to wait there for you.”
“Then what made you leave him?”
“Because--well, because----” Gorbo felt that perhaps, if she was
friendly to Golithos, she might not think highly of his offer to send
three arrows through his head.
Mother Meldrum went to her stool and sat thinking and thinking, with
her eyes wandering from Gorbo to the children. Suddenly she gave a
tremendous chuckle that made them all jump. Then she jumped up briskly
and patted Sylvia on the shoulder and told her to sit down.
“And sit down, all of you,” she went on. “What are you all standing
for? There are stools enough. You must be hungry too, but I’ll soon
have some dinner ready. I wouldn’t like you to go away saying that old
Mother Meldrum didn’t feed you properly.”
Though they did not understand this very decided change of manner
(who would?) it was very welcome. Gorbo put his bundle and his bow
and arrows in a corner, and got a basin of water for the children to
wash in. Then he washed his own piece of comb and gave it to Sylvia to
put her hair in order, and when she had done this Joe had a turn at
the comb. Tiger was put by Mother Meldrum’s advice in a little coarse
basket and hung up on a hook in the ceiling, and there he sat moaning a
little while the fierce black cats roamed to and fro and looked up at
him with shining green eyes and sniffed as if he smelt good to them.
DINNER WITH A WITCH
In a little while Mother Meldrum began to slap platters on the table,
and into each platter she put two large ladle-fulls of stewed hare,
with potatoes, carrots, peas and onions, which had a most delicious
smell, and told them to pitch in. A flask of wine--of a rather harsh
flavour but not bad--was placed on the table for the grown-ups, and the
children were given a little taste in water. Mother Meldrum was now
quite kind and considerate: when Joe spilled a lot of his stew on the
table she said it didn’t matter, that these things would happen. Baldry
plucked up his spirits with the good food and drink and the agreeable
change of manner, and told a couple of short tales which were well
received by all present, Mother Meldrum being especially tickled.
When dinner was over the bits were given to the cats, who gnawed and
growled like lions, and to Tiger, who had his ration aloft in the
basket. The children offered to help by washing up, and they and Baldry
were soon busy outside with a small tub of water and some kitchen
cloths, putting a polish on the plates and things.
“And now let’s talk,” said Mother Meldrum to Gorbo. “You want to get
back across the river. Very well, I’ll settle it for you. What’s more
I’ll only charge you that horn and that measly little necklace for
doing it.”
“Oh, thank you, Mum!” cried Gorbo gratefully.
“I always like to help when I can. But before I can do it you’ll have
to give me a hand. I’m clean out of mandrakes, and I’ll need six or
eight to work the spell, so you’ll have to go and get me some to-night,
because you can only get them when the moon’s shining. The place is
about a couple of miles from here.”
“I’ll bring you back a barrow load of them,” said Gorbo, who did not
know what they were. “Just show me the place and----”
“Not so fast,” said the old woman snappishly. “Mandrakes don’t grow
like bluebells. You’ll likely have to spend all the night looking for
them. You see they’re little roots shaped like persons, but there’s the
true mandrake and the spurious mandrake. There’s about ten thousand of
the real ones to one of the others.”
“Oh! Then how do I tell the difference, Mum?” asked Gorbo.
“When you pull them up. The real ones squeak.”
“Oh!” Gorbo did not relish the idea of a night alone in the moonlight
in these distressful woods, pulling up things that squeaked. But there
was no way out of it. “Very well, Mum,” he said. “And what shall I do
with Sylvia and Joe?”
“They can stay here with me. The funny man can stay too and look after
them. Your job is to come back in the morning with at least six nice
lively mandrakes. It’s rather a swampy place where they grow, but you
won’t mind that. If any things come and look at you don’t be worried,
but don’t speak if you can help it because it’s best not to.”
“What sort of things?” asked Gorbo.
“Well, mostly things rather like people, only with big ears and
slobbering mouths. Oh, and take a stick with you on account of the
bats. As a rule they’re harmless, but they’ve been known to bite when
you’re not looking--stooping and so forth. As it’s getting on to night
you’d better get ready to go now, so here’s a basket. I’ll go with you
and show you the place.”
Gorbo shivered and took the basket, but he did not look enthusiastic.
“None of your sulky looks!” cried the old woman with sudden fury. “Just
put on those airs and I won’t do a thing for you!”
“I didn’t mean to be sulky, Mum,” said Gorbo. “I’ll go at once.
You’ll--you’ll look after the little ones, won’t you?” The poor chap
felt very doubtful about leaving them for the night; Baldry and he had
sworn a friendship, but he did not have much belief in his power to
protect them. But there really seemed no way out of it.
“That’s better,” said Mother Meldrum. “Yes, I’ll look after them very
nicely. You come with me and I’ll show you where they are to sleep;
then you’ll feel easy in your mind.”
THE SPARE BEDROOM
She called the others and then took a candle and went to a door in the
darkest corner of the kitchen, which led to a flight of narrow stairs,
and then to a dark passage above. There were two or three little closed
doors on either side of the passage, but there were no windows anywhere
and they had to be careful how they walked, for the floor was very
uneven and at one place there were two steps up and at another three
steps down. At the end it turned round a corner, and there was another
door which led to another narrow flight of stairs and up to a big room,
full of what seemed to be bundles of herbs hanging from the rafters,
and with only one tiny window high up near the roof. She went quickly
over to a door at one end of the room and slammed and locked it, as if
there was something inside that she didn’t want to come out, then she
took them to another door at the other end and told them to come in.
They found themselves in a little room, dark like every other part
of this horrible house, as it had only a small window half hidden by
creepers and thatch. There was absolutely no furniture in it but a
four-post bedstead, and a little pair of steps to use when going to
bed, so high was it from the floor. From the window they could see only
the gloomy tree-tops fading away in the dusk that was coming on, and a
glimpse of the moon peeping out from a stormy cloud.
Sylvia stood with Tiger in one arm and held tightly to Gorbo. Baldry
was doubtfully swinging his bladder stick which with the exception of
his clothes was his only possession. Nobody looked cheerful except old
Mother Meldrum, who was quite brisk.
“Now you dear little things can go to bed at once,” she said. “There’s
enough moonlight for you to see by. This funny man can have a bed in
the kitchen and the Snerg will come with me for a little walk.”
“Are you going to leave us alone, Gorbo?” asked Sylvia in a whisper.
“Yes, Sylvia,” he replied, putting his arms round her, “but I’ll be
back early in the morning. You see I’ve got to go and help Mother
Meldrum get some things she wants to help us get across the river and
back home, so you do as she says and go to sleep.”
“Oh, come along with you!” cried Mother Meldrum impatiently. “I can’t
stay here all night. Tumble into bed, both of you!”
It really seemed that there was nothing else to do. Sylvia took off
her slinkers and then looked round to see if there was anything in the
shape of a nightie; but there wasn’t, and the old woman let out such a
snarl at the delay that both children bolted into bed, all standing,
as sailors say. Gorbo tucked them up with a patchwork quilt and kissed
them both very sorrowfully and put the puppy at the foot of the bed;
then he went out after the others.
“There’s _your_ bed,” said Mother Meldrum to Baldry, pointing to a
large box with straw in it in the corner of the kitchen. “Curl up and
go to sleep. Dream of some funny things for to-morrow.”
“It’s full of cats,” said Baldry discontentedly, as he looked into the
box.
“Heave them out then, you helpless loon!” shouted Mother Meldrum.
Baldry sighed deeply and began removing cats. They all growled and spat
at him, and one bit him finely in the fleshy part of the thumb. Gorbo
whispered to him to keep a good look out for the children, and then
picked up his bow and basket and so forth and went out after the old
woman.
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT
Strange to say, the children dropped off to sleep almost at once. They
were tired with the long walk and the bed was fairly comfortable, and
Joe, who, as I have said, was always the true optimist, had comforted
Sylvia by cheering remarks about everything coming out all right even
if it was a beast of a house.
Joe woke out of a sound sleep with a start. It seemed to him that he
had heard a loud crack somewhere. He sat up and looked about him,
wondering where he was. Then he remembered the shape of the little
window, through which the moonlight was now streaming brightly, just
touching Sylvia’s curls as she slept peacefully beside him with the