Fairies Afield Part 13

"P'r'aps Dirk would have minded once, before he went away," she said ruefully. "But not now--oh no--they say he's grown so fine and strong like the others. He won't care for me any more, I'm sure. That's another reason why I wish you'd let me stay with you and never go back to the farm again. Aunt says I grow stupider and stupider, and uglier too, I daresay she thinks, though she doesn't exactly say so. And just look at me"--she held out her shabby old skirt as she spoke--"this horrid dress is only fit for a beggar girl, and I'll have to wear it all the week, though it wasn't my fault that I dirtied my nice clean one. The lane was so slippery, and so muddy. It had been raining so hard."

The Suns.h.i.+ne fairy smiled.

"Yes," she said, "but you don't know what it would be like in your country if it didn't rain a good deal."

"I know it has to, of course," said Merran, "but if only we knew better, everything would be easier. Uncle Mac often says there never was such changeable weather as we have. I don't believe he'd be so cross and surly if he wasn't always worrying about what the sky's like and what it's going to do. And if _I_ knew, I'd take care not to go out without an umbrella, if it was going to be wet, nor along that muddy lane."

The Rain fairy had gone back to the fountain while Merran was speaking, and by this time she had quite lost all feelings of shyness with the pretty Suns.h.i.+ne lady. Just then the sound of the rus.h.i.+ng water stopped suddenly. The fairy looked up and called out. The words seemed strange, and Merran could not understand them, nor the reply which came back. But Suns.h.i.+ne turned to her.

"You will find bright weather on your return," she said, "and I promise you a pleasant surprise as well. So do not be low-spirited, little Merran. You have been watched over in ways you know not of, and you may cheer up from now."

But it was difficult for the child to believe this all at once.

"Oh mayn't I stay with you, dear kind fairy?" she pleaded again. "It wouldn't matter to me how the time pa.s.sed. I shouldn't be like little Bridget, who found her friends all gone, for you see I should never want to go back at all. Oh do let me stay. Can't you turn me into a fairy altogether?" she repeated. "I'd be your servant or anything you like."

Still Suns.h.i.+ne shook her head.

"No, my little maiden," she replied. "What you ask is impossible. You can never become one of us--a human child you are, a woman you must before long become. But a happy woman you may be, and to help you to be happy is the task that has been appointed to us. Long ago, but for love and pity for you, the old rain-house, as you call it, would have fallen to pieces, and we should have deserted the farm altogether, as indeed its master deserved after his treatment of us. He has been punished for it, however, and now by your means great and unusual good fortune may be before him and his. And this I will now explain to you, but on one condition."

Merran felt a little frightened.

"Is it something very difficult that I have to do?" she asked timidly.

The Suns.h.i.+ne lady shook her head.

"No, indeed," she replied. "It is simply to keep carefully two gifts which we have prepared for you, and to use them as I will describe.

But--there is the condition."

"What is it?" said Merran eagerly. "I'm sure you wouldn't want me to do anything wrong, or to promise anything I can't be sure of being able for, so I do promise now, this very minute, even before you tell me."

She was rewarded by a smile.

"You do right to trust me," said the fairy. "All I bind you to is this--to tell no one of the magic gifts, to keep your possession of them a complete secret, until----"

"Till when?" Merran interrupted.

"Till you are grown up, and only then if you marry and love your husband dearly. For I know that without complete confidence, little rifts are sadly apt to come between even those who love each other most truly."

"I don't think I'll ever marry," said the poor little maiden. "I'm too ugly and stupid. But still, if ever I did, I know I'd love my husband, 'cos you see it would be so kind of him to love _me_. And then it would be nice to tell him the secret, if it would do him good too. Oh I do wonder what it is you're going to give me!"

Fairy Suns.h.i.+ne slipped her hand into the front of her bodice and drew out something. At the same moment the Rain brownie, or gnome--no, he was too handsome to be a gnome--or whatever you like to call him, came forward again, and he too was holding something. Together the pair presented their gifts, and Merran gave a little cry of delight as she saw what they were. One was a tiny umbrella, a real umbrella, not a sham toy one, or a gold or silver "charm," such as ladies hang by their watch-chains, no, a real, exquisitely made and finished umbrella of green silk and with a beautifully carved ivory handle.

"I have made it myself," said the Rain man. "It will never wear out and never lose its power, unless you forget your promise."

"And for my gift I say the same," echoed Fairy Suns.h.i.+ne. Hers was even prettier, for it was a parasol, smaller of course than the umbrella, but just as beautifully perfect--of rose-coloured gauze, lined with white, and the handle was in the form of a daisy, of silver and enamel.

Merran was silent with pleasure and admiration.

"Oh thank you, thank you," she was beginning, but the fairy stopped her.

"Wait a moment," she said, "wait till you learn the real value of these two things. They are not merely pretty toys. It would be foolish to give them to you if they were nothing better than that. But they are much better. We have endowed them with fairy power. See here--if you want to know what the weather is going to be, you must test them--by yourself, of course, and when no one can see you, for magic gifts belong to their owner alone. You must test by trying to open them. If the umbrella refuses to spread itself, you will know that it is not going to rain. If so, turn to the parasol. If it opens quite widely you may count on plenty of suns.h.i.+ne; if only partly, then though the day will be dry, it will not be very bright. But you must be gentle; it would be useless to try to force either of them, for then they would break and you would have lost them for ever."

Merran's eyes were gleaming with delight.

"I will be very gentle, I promise you. Oh it will be splendid always to know about the weather, and uncle and all of them will never again think me stupid or useless if they find I can foretell it. It will make them much nicer to me, won't it?"

"Yes," replied her friend. "That is the reason of our giving you this secret power. But I must tell you a little more. You must not only be gentle in touch, you must have gentle feelings in your heart, otherwise you will fail. Neither umbrella nor parasol will open if you apply to them with any unkind feeling or wish. For instance, if the farmer or his sons have been sharp or rough to you and you wish it _would_ rain just to vex them, it would be no good at all for you to try to open either--and if your aunt has been cross to you some very hot day----"

"She often is when it is very hot," interrupted Merran. "More than when it's cold. She gets headaches in summer."

"Just so--then if you take hold of the parasol with a secret hope that the sun is going to blaze away all day, without any cooling summer rain, so that the dame will be punished for scolding you--no--it would be no good at all! Inside your heart must be the _hope_ that the wishes of others shall be fulfilled, whether it come to pa.s.s or not; otherwise all the magic will be gone for the time," and at this Merran looked grave, very grave, for she had known what it was to long for power to annoy others. But the fairy's next words cheered her. "I don't think there is much fear of your having those unkind feelings," she said. "I know that you are going to be a much happier little girl than ever before, and remember to begin with, I have promised you a pleasant surprise when you go home to-day."

"I wonder what it will be," thought Merran, and she felt so anxious to know, that it took away part of her reluctance to leave the charming "rain-house," as just then the Suns.h.i.+ne fairy, taking her hand, added, "I will show you now how to find your way back."

They were turning to enter the house again when a sudden thought struck Merran, who was carrying her new treasures with the greatest care.

"Where shall I hide them?" she asked anxiously. "I _am_ so afraid of any one finding them, or taking them, and there's nowhere in the little room where I sleep that I can lock up. Aunt comes in any time and looks all about, to see that I keep things tidy."

"Quite right of her," said the fairy. "I can help you to keep your treasures in perfect safety, much more so than if you locked them up in the strongest box that ever was made. Hold them out--one in each hand."

Merran did so--the fairy touched them both, first the umbrella, then the parasol, murmuring some word or words that the child could not hear.

"Now," she said, "I have made them become invisible to all eyes but your own, or those of the one to whom you may some day confide your secret, as you have permission to do. See--just to prove it to you, I will for a moment make them invisible even to yourself. Shut your eyes."

Merran did so.

"Open," said the Suns.h.i.+ne lady.

Merran obeyed, but gave a cry of dismay.

"They've gone, they've gone," she exclaimed, "and yet I didn't feel you touching them."

The fairy laughed.

"Wink your eyes," she said. "Now look again," and there sure enough were the magic gifts safe and sound.

Merran laughed too.

"So you don't need to be afraid of any one stealing them," said her friend.

"N-no," said the child. "But still--where had I best keep them? For you see in my own room they might get knocked or brushed away, even without being seen?"

"How about the garret?" asked the fairy. "No one ever interferes with you there--they are used to your playing there by yourself, aren't they?"

"Oh yes," Merran replied. "Only sometimes aunt goes up to look over things, or dust a little. Why the other day she said she was going to throw away the rain-house, as it was no use. I was glad she didn't, for I have always liked seeing it. And fancy! if she had, I should never have come up here and seen this lovely place and you, dear Suns.h.i.+ne fairy, or the Rain fairy, or got your magic gifts! How dreadful to think of!" But her friend only smiled.

"She could not have done it," she said. "She had no power to touch it while we were still here, while it was still one of the secret entrances to fairyland. But as to a hiding-place for your charms," she went on.

"Have you ever peeped up at the eaves above the little storm-window where you are so fond of sitting?"