The Flame-Flower And Other Stories [Ad rights reserved] ™ PAS Coe ee = REN ‘ TAS oo ANT aes SA Care. SO. a a 7 eN "\ ry mS a i a gO ee Ke The Mi merlowc: ws And Other Stories & fe Written and Illustrated by re { 7 Jas. F. Sullivan * i London | J. M. Dent and Co. 1896 BP Printed by BALLANTYNE, Hanson & Co. At the Ballantyne Press Contents The Lost Idea The Flame-Flower . The Flame-Flower—Second Part Old Primrose . Bob Robinson's Baby The Island of Professor Menu Tommy Twister’s Discovery PAGE 29 68 113 153 183 235 List of Illustrations Page Hlalf-title . seems : : : i Bob Robinson's Baby : i , ‘ . Frontispiece Title-page . : A : : : 3 : v Tailpiece to Contents : 5 : : : vii Tailpiece to List of I eee : : : ex lalf-title to “ The Lost Idea”? i : : 5 I Luitial to“ The Lost Idea,” chap. I. : : . 3 Timothy's fishing-rod . j : 5 While he sat fishing he ep got an oe : : a The vicar felt a hand in his coat pocket . 3 3 10 Lnitial to “« The Lost Idea,” chap. IT. 2 12 Nebuchadnezzar climbing up with barrow-loads of Le 13 Dame Betsy pegging the cow’s tail down . i ‘ 17 Nathaniel’ s barrow and the two balloons . : : 19 Lnitial to “« The Lost Idea,” chap. III. . é en 23 “ How dare you say my husband is crazy 2”? : 25 Now he’s the King’s Bootmaker 3 S ‘ a Oe) Half-title to “The Flame-Flower”? . ‘ . eZ Lnitial to “ The Flame-Flower,? chap. 1. . Z eye oil A great black shadow shaped like a wolf . ‘ : 36 Morddec’s castle and the wolves : f : 7) Morddec’s castle . : ‘ A 5 39 The wolves came Sorth from te forest : 3 i 40 — x List of Illustrations : Evan and Honora and Flamma The shadow of the wolf . He threw her from him and ran away Initial to “ The Flame-Flower,”’ chap. LI. The rock was consumed by fierce heat Tailpiece to “‘ The Flame-Flower,” part 1. Initial to “ The Flame-Flower,” part Il. . As the wolves slay the sheep “ Hear me!” cried Evan ‘ So Evan set them to work to cut down trees And so they set out to Pratulum She was very lovely to look upon The great oak Border: The squirrel Lapa ae news ee it to ie ringdove 3 Initial to “ The Flame--Flower,” ne fl, ps IIL, A stranger came running in deadly fear : The figure of a woman like that of a wolf . : 4 Border : There came forth i the forest around many wolves , : 4 : He hewed them down ie Ee ane “ The fire! the fire!” cried the enone The great oak lay uprooted : . Flamma leaned against the fallen oak . : “ How dreadfully ugly you are!” exclaimed Daisy Old Primrose’s barrister . : So he stood on a stump ‘ A So he set to aad to study coming out of eggs Page 41 52 54 56 58 67 68 70 72 74 75 81 34 86 g! 94 96 99 102 104 107 109 114 120 123 125 List of I Llustrations Old Primrose inside the egg “ That's a very fine caterpillar, miss |”? Daisy turned up a corner 2 a co. Miss Pupsey a : The Beautiful Butterfly . Mary Ann Dabbles George, the pig, swaggered out at the a es fle settled on the back of a chair : Border : Mrs. George Porkson and a at ey Tailpiece to “* Old Primrose” : Ffalf-title to ** Bob Robinson’s Baby”? Bob Robinson as a child . The nest of R. Robinson, Esquire LErthupp and Bob Robinson—one view LErthupp and Bob Robinson—another view Border: The hatching of an egg “ The egg has hatched out a baby”? Border: Sundry views of Erthupp . Back view of Erthupp and Bob Robinson . Erthupp and Bob Robinson ; $ A Erthupp and Bob Robinson again. | i Tailpiece to “* Bob Robinson’s Baby”? Drifted for about three years on a ce “I call him a vegetable”? 2 Merioneth was putting out from the island in a poe The Dock-Labourer The Crab-Apple- Pie- Goes Pursued by the Thingummy—A Sensation jeep Xi Page 128 133 135 138 140 © 142 147 149 150 151 153 155 159 162 163 165 168 172 173 174 175 182 187 Igt 196 198 202 205 xii List of [lustrations Page The Dough-Do . 5 s 5 5 ep 2LO) A centipede lamb . : : : : : oo Ne The Currant-Jelly-Fish . : : : : ely The Celery- Cockatoo : i : : j Fa ZlG Ihe Omnibustard . : : Z : : «221 The Porcupineapple : ; : ‘ 3 + 225 The Cow-Eel ei é 3 : : . 228 The Leap into the Crater ! aa ULES: 23 “ Why do People want to discover the Wee Pole Ce 23.0) The Skipper and the naughty needle. ‘ : + 243 “Pm a fixed point? ~ 247 Tommy had seen the gardener . a oe of one tree on to another. : 3 Eazg t ‘“ Dear me! that is quite unusual!” 5 : ee 2152 “ Aren’t you interested in Dates 2”? . : : - 254 Billy Bunson : cess ‘ Z50 Away they went down ap hee river . : : - 263 “ PI take off my overcoat”. : : ‘ R275 John Frost, Esq. . 5 3 } s Ss . 281 Tailpiece to the book : : : : : - 285 aera shea iano sara se re The Lost Idea SAEMOTHY was a shoemaker. Two years a ago Timothy had made a pair of hob-nailed boots for Jarge the ploughman; and Mr. William the draper, passing along the road, had caught sight of those boots down in a furrow right at the farther corner of a twenty- acre field, and had stopped in admiration and wonder, and e called out— s Jarge, what wonderful boots you aa? have on! A “Ah! That's what they are— wonderful!” Jarge had replied. “ Jarge, whoever caz have made you those boots?” said Mr. William. 3 - 4 The Lost Idea “Why, Timothy made them, as you might say,” Jarge had said. Then Mr. William the draper, quite over- come with wonder, had gone home and looked in the till and said, “T can afford a new pair of boots. I will go to Timothy and get him to make me a wonderful pair.” And the Squire’s factor, Mr. James, had happened to go into the draper’s, and had caught sight of the draper’s boots right down in the dark behind the counter— (for a really good thing cannot be hidden!) —and had said, “O Mr. William! what wonderful boots you have on! Whoever made such boots?” And Mr. William had said, “No other than Timothy, I do assure you!” And so the Squire’s factor had counted up his money, and had ordered Timothy to make him a wonderful pair of boots too; and the Squire had caught sight of them right under a rug on the floor of the factor’s dog-cart ; and then the Squire had reckoned up how much the new succession duties had left him The Lost Idea 5 and had found it just enough to buy a pair of boots with; and had ordered a pair of Timothy. And so things were going on, until it was whispered that the Lord-Lieutenant of the county had decided to order a pair of boots of Timothy ; when one day Timothy’s wife said— “Tim, you have worked very hard for a long time; I think you ought to take a holiday.” “IT am very contented without it,” replied Timothy. And, indeed, Timothy was quite fat and rosy with con- tentment ; but he thought it over, and decided that his wife knew best. Now, wives nearly always do know best; only husbands, being conceited, pretend not to believe it. So Timothy reached down his fishing-rod, and trotted out to take hee a holiday; and as he went through the vil- lage all the inhabitants turned pale and said, ‘We hope Timothy is not going to leave 6 The Lost Idea his work and keep us without our wonderful boots !” Timothy, plump and happy, sat down on the grass by the river and fished ; and during the day he caught three small bleak, and hung them up by their gills to twigs, with weights on their tails to stretch them out as long as possible, in order to surprise his fishing-club with his catch. And while he sat fishing he suddenly got an idea in his head. And this is the turning-point of the story ; so please notice it well. ' Very well; at five o'clock he got up, took down his three bleak from the twigs, flat- tened out the marks made round their tails by the string which had suspended the weights, and trotted towards home. Just as he had got half-way home he suddenly stopped, clapped his hand to his forehead, and turned very pale. “Bless my soul!” he said, “I have forgotten to bring my Idea!” He ran back as hard as he could and searched in the grass where he had been sitting, but he could not find his Idea; The Lost Idea | 7 he turned up all the large stones, but he could not find his Idea; and he peered down into the clear water, but his Idea was not there ! 8 The Lost Idea So Timothy turned very sadly away, muttering, “That Idea was the best thing I ever had in my life!” and crawled dismally home. “Why, Tim, dear, you don’t seem well!” said his wife. “Tve lost my Idea!” said Timothy, with tears in his eyes, “Well, never mind,” said Mrs. Timothy, ‘you'll soon get another.” “ Get another!” said Timothy indignantly. “Why, it’s the only Idea I have ever got in my life ; and it was such a beauty—so bright and round, and beautiful to touch! There isn't another like it in the village! And now I’ve lost it, and don’t know what it was about; and I can’t eat my tea!” All the next day Timothy neglected his boot-making, and searched on the river-bank for his Idea. “It was so brilliant!” he said dismally. “Then how is it that you don’t see it glittering?” asked his wife. “ Be quiet, woman!” said Timothy angrily. ‘Women have no reason!” The Lost Idea 9 The day after that Timothy sat brooding in his shop without doing a stitch of work, although a special messenger had come that morning with an order for a pair of boots for the Lord-Lieutenant of the county. “Tim, dear, wouldn’t it be better to go on with your work, and forget the Idea ?” said Mrs. Timothy. “T can’t,” said Timothy; “my heart is breaking about my Idea. There isn’t such an Idea in the county—in the world! I shall never be happy again!” and he fairly broke down and sobbed. “Oh, why did I ever persuade him to take a holiday!” cried poor Mrs. Timothy. ‘It’s all my fault!” and she sat down and wept silently. “Women make too much fuss about things!” growled Timothy. From that time Timothy altered dread- fully. He entirely neglected his work, and did nothing but lurk about the village, search- ing for his lost Idea. The Lord-Lieutenant of the county came in person to beseech him to execute his order for boots, and said that 10 The Lost Idea he should be unable to hold the grand recep- tion which he had arranged for, if he did not get his boots ; but Timothy would not go on with them. Timothy became a nuisance to everybody. Mr. Joseph, the vicar, looking into a shop window, felt a hand in his coat tail pocket, and found Timothy searching in it. “This is a great liberty!” said the vicar. ‘ Whatever are you doing?” ‘Looking for my Idea,” said Timothy. Then Mrs. William, the draper’s wife, returning home one day, found her parlour all upside down, with all the cupboards turned out, the covering of the arm-chair unpicked, and the carpet pulled up; and there was Timothy feeling under- neath it. “I’m surprised at you, Mr. Timothy!” said Mrs. draper. ‘“ You must have gone mad!” ‘Not I,” said Timothy; “I’m looking for my Idea.” The Lost Idea II He looked in everything—up people's chimneys, under their hearth-rugs, in their dust-holes ; he even opened their letters when he could get hold of them: nothing was safe from his search. “We will zof put up with it!” said every- body ; and Timothy was handed over to Mr. Benjamin, the policeman: but Timothy wor- ried him so dreadfully by peeping into his pockets and taking off his helmet to look in- side it, that the policeman got quite worn out, and let him go. “© Timothy, dear!” said his wife, weeping, “your boots are dropping off your feet, and so are mine, and so are the children’s. Do, at least, make us a pair each!” But Timothy wouldn’t ; he had an appoint- ment to search under the church pulpit for his Idea. II OW, one day as Timothy was passing a poultry-yard his attention was at- tracted by the great cackling made by a Cochin-China hen. Timothy — had grown very suspicious and mistrustful of all his neighbours, even the dumb creatures; and he said— “That hen would never be so very proud and triumphant with- out some good reason. She has - evidently stolen my Idea!” And he watched the hen for a long time, until at length she laid an egg. “No,” said Timothy. ‘ Laying an egg is a very poor idea—my Idea was very, very much better than that: she hasn't stolen it.” 12 The Lost Idea 15 The next day he saw old Nebuchadnezzar the cottager standing at his little green gate and chuckling to himself very proudly. “J will watch that old fellow,” said Timothy to himself. ‘“ He wouldn’t be so jubilant unless he had hit on something above the common. I’m certain he has stolen my Idea.” He watched old Nebuchadnezzar; and he saw him place a ladder against his house and climb up with barrow-loads of earth and throw the earth down his chimney until he had filled it up; and when Nebuchad- nezzar had filled it up he took a little some- thing out of his pocket and popped it into the earth in the chimney-pot, and patted the earth neatly down. “That’s my Idea he’s hidden there!” thought Timothy; and next morning at dawn he slyly got old Nebuchadnezzar’s ladder and stole up to the roof, and raked out the little object with his finger. “Bah!” said Timothy ; “ ¢aé dirty little thing is not my beautiful Idea; it’s only a common tree-seed.” 16 The Lost Idea However, he carefully put it back and patted down the earth again; for he felt certain that old Nebuchadnezzar had his Idea somewhere, and wanted to see the affair through. When old Nebuchadnezzar had _ patted down the earth in his chimney-pot, he had gone down into his cottage and lighted the fire under the chimney ; and in a short time a little plant sprouted from the pot above. Owing to the genial warmth communicated to the mould by the fire the plant grew, in a few weeks, to a large tree; and on it grew all sorts of delicate fruits — peaches, pine-apples, pomegranates, bananas, dates, oranges, and so forth. It was a wonderful sight ; and the position of the tree prevented the boys picking the fruit. ‘Well, it’s a very fair idea in its way,” thought Timothy, “but I see it isn’t my Idea—my Idea was far, far grander than that, I’m certain.” Some time after that, in the autumn, he noticed that Dame Betsy with the Cow led her cow into her kitchen-garden—(which was The Lost Idea 17 not her usual custom)—and tossed her head seven times with pride. “Then Dame Betsy has stolen my Idea,” thought Timothy; and he watched from behinda hedge. He saw Dame Betsy make up a hot-bed, and peg the cow’s tail down to the earth with hair- pins. You have seen your gardener peg down carnation stems? Very well; she pegged down the cow’s tail just like that yee: The cow did not like it much at first, and proposed to get up and walk away ; but she was a good cow, and was easily persuaded to sit still; and all through the winter Betsy kept the end of the tail moist with warm water, and took out the cow’s meals to her, and often sat and read to her out of a gardening book about carnations, to en- courage her. In the spring a number of tiny black- and-fawn heads sprouted up through the B 18 | The Lost Idea earth from the roots thrown out by the tail; and when Betsy had carefully detached them and potted them up in small pots, they grew so rapidly that by midsummer they were big enough to turn out into the meadow to graze. Beautiful little Al- derney cows they were— about twenty of them. “ Hum—yes,” said Timothy, “that’s really a good idea—but it’s not mine! Mine was worth fifty of it!” He never left off searching. One day Old Nathaniel, who was the dirtiest old man in the village, and the laziest, and the most grumbly, and had the longest nose, came out with his barrow and screamed for joy. Now it had always been Old Nathaniel’s duty to wheel his barrow, full of stones, half a mile down the road, as far as the pound; and he hated the trouble. But this morning he attached two little balloons, which he had made, to himself and his barrow; and then he filled them with gas; and when they were full, he and the barrow rose to about three feet in the air, The Lost Idea 21 Now this action of his requires explana- tion. He had heard from the schoolmaster the week before that the world is in the habit of turning round once in every twenty-four hours ; and it had occurred to him that if he could detach himself from the world and let it go round without him he could just wait until the place he wanted to reach came round to him and then drop quietly down and land there without any exertion on his part. It is not the right thing to escape one’s duties in this way, and I am not prais- ing him for doing it; I am only saying that he did it. Well, round went the earth (just as usual), and the pound reached him in such a short time that he overshot the mark by three miles, and had to wheel his barrow back all that way; but he soon got into the way of drop- ping at the right spot with a little practice, and (very improperly) saved himself a lot of trouble. “That's a really excellent idea—I admit it,” said Timothy ; “ but it is zof mine. Mine was worth five hundred of even that.” You 22 | The Lost Idea perceive that his admiration of the Idea he had lost grew every day; he had become really foolish about it. No one but a per- son who writes story-books should fancy his ideas so wonderful as all that. Ill 3.7 O, my Idea cannot be in the vil- lage,” said Timothy. ‘I believe that whoever found it has taken » it away—perhaps to foreign coun- tries, to sell it to an emperor. I /)} must go and search for it.” . «But surely, Timothy, you will not go away and leave me and the children all alone!” said his wife. ‘We shall all be starved. I have not a penny left now from what I saved from your earnings when you attended to your business. You must be crazy!” “But only think,” said Timothy, “I shall find my Idea, and sell it to an emperor for more money than you can imagine; and then I shall return, and we will all have more food than we ever had before—three times as much—more than is good for us. 23 24 | Fie lose Vaca And meanwhile,” he added generously, “I will beg the Squire to assist you.” So Timothy went away; and his poor wife had to work very hard to keep herself and the children, and could hardly do it. ‘“ He must be crazy to leave you like this,” said the neighbours. “How dare you say my husband is crazy!” said Mrs. Timothy indignantly ; ‘‘he » did perfectly right; and you are nasty bad people!” For seven years Timothy wandered about the world. He had grown lean and miser- able. He slept under hedges, and got hardly anything to eat. Every day, when some great poet or statesman had a splendid idea, Timothy believed it was his own; but it never turned out brilliant enough to be Zzs. And one day, at the end of the seven years, he wandered back to his native village. He was too miserable and de- pressed to go at once to his wife and chil- dren, although he longed to. He crawled along the side of the river, and sat down, heartbroken, on the very spot where he The Lost Idea 27 had lost his Idea so long ago, and sobbed. He happened to. put his hand on the grass, and it felt something under it. He leaped up with a shout. He hugged the little thing to his breast and nearly choked with joy, and it was several minutes before he could summon up courage to look at it; and when he did, he let it drop and hid his face in his thin hands and moaned. It was not brilliant in the least! It was as dull as ditch-water, and very, very small. That Idea which he had believed so great and splendid was only—‘‘ J think I had better go home to tea!” Then Timothy turned away and ce home; and when his wife returned “ from her hard day’s work, there was Timothy sitting on his stool, work- ing hard at a boot. And now , he’s the King’s Bootmaker, liv- v ing in a beautiful house next door to the palace; and he and his wife and his children : are the plumpest and merriest people in ae whole city. The Flame-Flower i QVAN and Honora stood hand fies) in hand on the inlaid floor of = the great house. “ ‘Here we &e will dwell when we are wed,” said Evan; “for the house is mine. Licinius has departed, and returns no more; and, at his parting, he gave it me for the love he bore me and the service I had done him, and _ my father before me.” But the great house was desolate, and falling to de- cay. In the fore-court the MS orass grew green between the stones, and the painted stucco of the pillars around had peeled off in great flakes, 3f 32 The Flame-Flower which lay upon the floor; owls and bats reared their young in the inner rooms, and the household altar was moss-grown. The gardens around were tangled, and overrun with briar and bramble; yet they had been beautiful. And the house stood on a hill- side, and the view from it was fair and wide. From the house one could look away to the high hill where stood the camp of the conquerors, which was deserted now; and across great meadows and tilled fields to the dark forest which was no-man’s-land, where the bad spirits lived and planned evil. And Licinius the owner of the great house had gone at length to return no more; in- deed these several years he had not dwelt in it, being called away to the far South by the troubles of his own country and his own city. He had been a rich man, and this house had been his residence in summer ; he had been lord over Evan’s father and over Evan, and over all lesser men for many a broad mile; for he was of the blood of the conquerors who had ruled the land for four centuries. Evan’s father had been The Flame-Flower 33 head-man under Licinius, and his trusted bailiff and friend; Honora’s mother had been a freewoman and favourite in the household of Patricia wife of Licinius, both here and at the noble lady’s house in the great city of the far South. But misfortune came ever more heavily upon the great city of the South; and Licinius was a poor man now; and he had given his empty house—for indeed he could not keep it—to Evan. _ None had repaired nor tended the deso- late house; for men were troubled in their minds because of the departure of their con- querors, who had protected them so long; and were without government, and confused ; and nought remained in the great house for robbers to take, for these had torn off all the fittings of bronze to make into weapons and tools. Evan was a young man, strong and fair ; and he gathered his cattle into the pas- tures around the great house, and left his own farmer’s house of stone and timber, and dwelt in the gift-house. His lands he kept, c 34 The Flame-Flower joining them to those of the gift-house ; and he and his men—for he had many serving- men, being a head-man and of repute and strong of hand—he and his men repaired the house as well as they might; for Evan had learned some of the useful arts from the conquering race. Then Evan took the hand of Honora, and led her to the great house as his wife ; and they were happy. Honora was fair as she stood in the meadow in the morning looking toward the risen sun; and her hair was golden, so that Eostre the dawn goddess rejoiced in it, playing with it. But Morddec stole forth from the gloomy forests where the spirits dwell, and passed between Honora and the risen sun; so that he made a black shadow between the sun and her, shutting out the light from her hair; and Honora shivered as the shadow passed. Now Morddec was by one side of the family of Evan, but by the other side he was the son of the wolf-woman ; and the Bee Flame-Flower 35 deeds of Morddec were evil, so that men _ hated and feared him, shuddering at his name, In those days all the kindred of him who did an evil deed were punished for his deed : so that many a time had Evan and his kin- dred been forced to pay great sums in cattle and in money to the families of those whom Morddec had injured. But the man did evil to those of his own kindred as well as to strangers; so that his own kindred had driven him forth from among them. Then Morddec had gone away into the dark forest which is no-man’s-land, to herd with the wolves and the evil spirits ; and he hated all men, especially Evan his cousin, and sought always to do them injury. It was said that this Morddec had the power from his mother of changing to a wolf, and of casting evil spells upon men; those who had dared to pass the dark forests had told of a great black wolf with eyes that shone like burnished copper, and how they had shivered as he passed in the 36 The Flame-Flower gloom: but men believed strange things in those days. Evan and his wife Honora were very happy ; though Honora had shivered when the wolf-shadow passed between the sun and her, and had not felt so content as before for all that day. But she loved Evan, and they walked hand in hand in the pastures. One day a daughter was born to them. On the day when she was born Evan, standing at dusk at the entrance of his house, saw a strange cluster of small flowers of the colour of gold in the meadow in front. He wondered at this; for it was winter, and the meadows were covered with snow, so that it was not the time of flowers. The Plipye al louey 37 As he watched the flowers, the dusk deepened into darkness ; yet the strange flowers did not fade from sight, but showed ever more brightly; and [it seemed to him as though their petals moved, or flickered, as the flame of a / \ fire flickers. Then, full of wonder, i Evan went toward the flowers to exa- / ‘ mine them; and as he went toward them, he saw here and there other groups of these flowers, so that pre- sently the meadows were alight with /~ them and all yellow; but when he | ’ stooped to pluck any of them, Hi these had gone; wherethey had == ~ Gy Or eee stood the snow was melted in “SiR : a ring, and the green grass was oy bare. And as Evan stood in the midst of the meadows he saw a great black shadow that was shaped like a wolf come out from the nearest fringe of forest. Although the wolf was distant 38 The Flame-Flower many a javelin-cast, Evan saw that its eyes shone like burnished copper ; and when the wolf-shadow had gazed upon the flowers, it came forth to cross the meadows toward the house ; but when its foot touched the groups of flowers their petals leapt up suddenly to ten times their height, so that the wolf- shadow gave forth a great howl of pain and fear, fleeing‘again into the forest. All this Evan saw dimly, except the brightness of the flowers; for the light of day had almost gone. All this happened on the day when Evan’s daughter was born, at the hour of her birth; and she was called Flamma, in the language of the conquerors whom Evan loved. Now Morddec, Evan’s cousin who hated all men, dwelt in a little castle of stone which he had built upon a rock in the dark forests where no good man dared to dwell. He and his men had built it; for Morddec had gathered to him nine others, outlaws and landless men, who had been driven forth The Flame-Flower 39 to the forests, like him, for evil deeds; and these obeyed his will, for he was strong so that they feared him. These men had built the castle with the stones of a temple made by the con- querors long before near that spot; with much labour they had moved the stones and raised them on to the rock, for Morddec had learned the art of building from the conquering race. But there were some who said that he had built the castle by magic arts, not with his hands. Here lived he and his nine men; and he had nought to give them save what they robbed others of, as was their way. The rock was, as it were, an island in the midst of flat ground; and no one might reach the castle save by a ladder made of a fir-trunk set with pegs. By day and by night the ladder was drawn up into the castle, so that no stranger might climb; and by night 40 The :«Flame-Flower the wolves came forth from the forest, and crossed the dangerous swamp that lay all round the rock, and howled about the castle -of Morddec; so that c. . nhone except him and rr, hig men dared venture ale near it for fear of the wolves w —no, nor even his men # unless he were near to check the wolves; for the wolves knew him, being (as was said) of his kin; and men even said that he knew their language, and could speak with them. Morddec thought day and night of the good lands of Evan, and of his cattle and his fair house, and longed for them (although the people would not have suffered him to hold them); but Evan was too strong for him, although a mild and kindly man; so Morddec feared and hated him. One day, when Flamma was seven years old, Evan and Honora and Flamma stood in The Flame-Flower 41 the pastures in the sun; and now the sun was high, so that none afoot could cast a shadow upon them; and their hair was golden in the sun. But something seemed to pass above; it was like a little cloud, yet formed as a wolf, and it cast a shadow over them; Evan and his wife felt a great chill at their hearts 42 The Flame-Flower as the shadow passed. Then Evan thought of the saying of men that Morddec’s mother, the wolf-woman, had the power of passing through the air at will. Then as the cloud passed, Honora drew her hand out from the hand of Evan, where it had lain; and when Evan noticed this and looked upon her, she turned away her head and would not look at him; but bit her lip and gazed away gloomily at the dark forests. Then she turned from Evan and little Flamma, saying no word, and so went slowly back to the house; Evan gazing after her, wondering. Evan took the child by the hand, and fol- lowed his wife to the house. “Honora,” he said, ‘this day is the day of the year on which we were wed; and my freemen prepare a feast for us that we may rejoice, and they in our happiness!” But she turned away her head, making no answer. Evan said, ‘I pray you come and show yourself to them; for they wait to lay their The Flame-Flower 43 offerings at your feet and to wish you gladness.” “T am indisposed,” Honora said, “let them rejoice without me.” Evan took the child by the hand, and went out, wondering. In the room that was - called ‘“triclinium,’ which had been the dining - hall of Licinius, the serving -men laid boards upon trestles, preparing a feast. Some vessels of silver and of glass there were, which Patricia had given to Honora’s mother in the days past; and many meats were being prepared, for the people had learned some of the luxury of their con- querors. Some men spread sweet-scented herbs and rushes upon the floor, and others hung up branches and garlands of flowers. Then came the freemen, bringing gifts of corn, and bracelets and brooches of silver- work and of bronze and carved stone. So they sat down to the feast, and Evan excused Honora, saying she was sick ; but the feast was a sad one, save for the presence of the child Flamma, whom the freemen took upon their knees, caressing her golden hair. 44 The Flame-F lower When the feast was over Evan went to seek Honora in her room. But she was not there. Then he sought her in the meadows, but found her not; and so toward evening, still seeking, he came into the edge of the dark forest. Now in those days the townships or dwell- ing-places of the people were surrounded by belts of forest which separated them one from the other ; and none lived in the forests, for these were full of elves, and bad spirits, and all manner of strange beasts which breathed fire and noxious vapours, and would slay men. None passed willingly through the forests, but would journey (when jour- neying was needed) by the great roads which the conquerors had made; and it was an evil thing to say of any man that he dwelt in the forests, or even that he went much in them ; for men knew by that that he must be in league with the dark spirits dwelling there ; and men would shun such an one, and might kill him’as an evil-doer. Evan feared the forests less than most men, for he had dwelt much with the conquering race and knew The Flame-Flower 45 more than his fellows; and the conquerors had spoken less of evil spirits than of dryades or wood fairies, and of naiades or nymphs of the fountains, and of fauns; and these were harmless to men and beautiful. Yet Evan also seldom went in the forests, fearing that men should think evil of him. Now, in much grief and wonder, hardly knowing whither he went, he strayed into the borders of the woods, and so came upon Honora sitting under a great oak; she seemed not to see him as he advanced, but gazed gloomily upon the ground; and it seemed to him that he saw in the gloom behind her the shadow of the wolf. Then Evan took her by the hand and led her home, and brought Flamma to her. But Honora took no heed of the child. She said, “Leave me alone, for I am weary and ill-content!” ‘“What would you have, Honora?” Evan said. “Will I not give you all that is in my power, even to my life, if you will? Speak to the child, for she pines at your neglect. Why are you changed so?” 46 The Flame-Flower Honora rose, and pressed her hand upon her forehead. ‘Why am I not rich and great like Patricia?” she said angrily. “Why is our home so mean—this land so dull and boorish? Let me go to the city of the South, where there are palaces ot marble, and great shows, and splendour! You—you are not a soldier like the captains of the South—you wear no gilded armour and fine plumes, but dress in leather and coarse stuff, and herd with clowns!. Leave me!” Then Evan bowed his head, and took the child by the hand, and went out to sorrow ; and the wolf howled mockingly in the distant forest. Often after that did Evan seek for Honora, ever finding her in the forest and leading her home; and each time she came more unwillingly. The people began to talk of this and to shake their heads when they spoke of Evan and his wife, whispering that they held communion with evil spirits and wolves; and they drew away as Evan passed. One day, at this time, when Evan walked The Flame-Flower — 47 in the meadows by the fringe of the forest, Morddec came out from among the trees greeting him, and linked his arm in Evan’s, and so conversed with him. Evan was a mild and kindly man, and he did not repulse his cousin, hating him less than others did, for all that Morddec had often tried to harm him; so he talked with him. But there were those who stood in the fields at their labour ; and these saw the two conversing, and pointed at them, saying, “It is true! Evan holds communion with the son of the wolf-woman. He is an evil man!” All in the township heard of this, and talked of it, and said, ‘This man is not fit to be our head-man. He is in league with the evil spirits of the forests!” So all men began to shun Evan, and to fear him; and his freemen drew away from him; and the serfs who tilled his fields, tended his flocks and herds, and sat at his board, began to depart one by one, going to other masters; until there were few of them left. 48 The Flame-Flower Then his sheep and cattle strayed into the forest, and were slain by fierce dragons and other beasts ; and his fields began to fall into neglect for want of hands to till them ; and the freemen often met and talked of thrusting Evan from their midst. When Honora saw that they grew poorer she grew more gloomy, and would not speak — to Evan nor to the child, but seemed to hate them. The wolves began to come forth from the forest and to take his sheep, and the sheep of the other farmers; by hundreds they came forth, and could not be scared away. At this time Flamma was very sweet to look upon, and her hair was golden like her mother’s. Honora sat apart in a window with her chin upon her hand, looking to- ward the setting sun. She had thrust her spinning-wheel from her in wrath, so that it lay broken. She looked and saw the wolves coming from the forest, and the meadow was grey with them. Flamma crept to her side, laying her head upon her lap to be caressed; but there passed a The Flame-Flower 49 black cloud like a wolf across the setting ‘sun, and Honora thrust Flamma away. Then Flamma, weeping, went to another window and gazed out at the meadows; and in the dusk she saw a little cluster of strange flowers that showed among the grass like little flames of fire. The wolves, too, saw them at a distance, and fled back. Then the flowers were gone; but Flamma ceased to weep, though she knew not why. The next morning, when Evan awoke, Honora was gone from the house. He went out from the door to seek her; and there met him a great throng of men, with staves and javelins in their hands, clamouring. And they sprang forward to kill him at his door; but Flamma came out and stood by his side, gazing upon them. Then they drew back because of the beauty of the child, but they cried to Evan, ‘Get you gone into the forests to herd with the wolves and spirits; for if we find you here when the sun be risen, you shall die!” One hurled a javelin at Evan, and it stuck in the doorpost, quivering. D io The Flame-F lower Then Evan took up Flamma and fled into the forest; and as he looked out from the edge of it, the sun had risen, and the roof of his house was in flames; for the people destroyed it for fear of evil spirits that might lurk in it. When the people had let Evan depart, they repented of it, making a hue and cry after him to slay him, so that he had to flee into the heart of the forest to save Flamma and himself; but when he had built the child a hut of mud and stones and branches to stay in, and covered the floor with dry fern, and got food for her, he ven- tured once more into the borders of the forest by himself, seeking for Honora. Many times was he nearly slain by the javelins and arrows of those who hunted him; but he escaped, and so came upon Honora after many days, and led her to the hut. There, with a javelin which one had hurled at him to kill him, he hunted the wild things of the forest, and so got food for Honora and Flamma day by day ; but Honora would not speak, but sat with her chin in her hand The Flame-Flower 51 brooding. When Evan took Flamma and placed her hand silently in her mother’s, Honora thrust her away fiercely, hurting her. “You love your child no more!” said Evan. “T love none any more,” said Honora; and she turned her face away to where the sun had set. For some days ago, when she had looked from the window, the sun had been setting ; but now it was set. They were safe from men in the place where they dwelt, for no man would have dared to venture so far into the forest; moreover, the place where the hut stood was girt about with marshes, which even the beasts feared. Day by day Evan, hunting alone in the forest, thought of Honora, how great a change had come upon her; and, but for the child, he would have despaired, for his good house was gone, and all his wealth in flocks and cattle and swine, and his good name among men. But day by day he went in silence to Honora’s side, and stroked 52 The Flame-Flower her golden hair, and took her hand in his, hoping always that she might cast off this sorcery—for that he knew it must be. But she changed no more, nor would look upon him, and drew away her hand from his. One day Evan took Flamma by the hand when he went forth to hunt ; for that day he feared to be by himself, his grief being too great to bear. He stood, holding Flamma by the hand, and gazed upon the morning sun in her hair; for a shaft of light pierced the thick forest and fell upon her; and he 3 stooped to kiss her. " But a shadow passed across them. Evan knew that it was the shadow of the wolf. And he did not kiss the child, but cast away her hand from him, wondering at himself. He fled from Flamma, hurrying away without pur- pose. Soon he heard a step behind him, The Flame-Flower 53 and turned; and there stood Morddec, son of the wolf-woman, mocking him. Hatred of all men and all things were in Evan’s heart, and bitterness and rage. He raised his javelin and hurled it at Morddec; but it struck his breast as though it had struck a shield of bronze, and bounded off; and Morddec laughed mockingly and was gone. Now Evan returned no more by daylight to look upon his wife and child, but took their meat secretly by night, and laid it at the door of the hut and stole away. Flamma was now ten years of age, fair beyond words, and of a sweet presence. For a year she had not looked upon her father, nor had her mother spoken to her; and she wandered alone amid the marshes and the forest, talking with the birds and the squirrels ; and these loved her and came to her. But often she sat beneath the trees and sobbed, so that the wild things of the forest wondered at her, and crept close to her as if to console her. One day, as she sat thus, having strayed BAM) The Flame-Flower further than usual from the hut, Evan came by; and she ran to him, falling at his feet, and clasped his hand. But his look was wild like that of the wolf, and he threw her from him and ran away. Then Flamma cried aloud, and wandered away further into the darkness of the forest ; and Evan stopped and turned, and stood watching her. He passed his hand across his brow as one dazed, and tried to call her The Flame-Flower 55 back to him, but he could not call. He stretched out his arms toward her, and his eyes were wild, and she saw him not; so he watched her until she was gone in the darkness, and then he fell upon his face. I] forest Flamma wandered. She was pale, for of late the sickness of the marshes had been upon her. It was winter, and where the trees stood , more apart the ground was thick with ‘s. snow; but she felt no cold, only sorrow. “When she had wandered far, she sank at the foot of a great rock in the moonlight, sitting as one benumbed. She longed feebly that the rock might open and let her creep in out of the cold, for she began to feel the cold at last. As she sat, her hand rested on the snow at the foot of the rock. She seemed to feel a little warmth in the hand, as though a pleasant fire had been near ; and the warmth seemed to grow greater, until the blue nails 56 4 cA 5 The Flame-Flower 57 had turned pink again. When she moved her hand to see, beneath it was a little flower- bud of the colour of gold, which was no sooner uncovered than it grew to a flower whose petals were not still, but gently flickered, casting a light around. Flamma stretched out her frozen arms toward the flower as to a fire, and it warmed her through. All the snow dissolved from about the flower to the distance of an arm’s length, and the ground grew dry; so that Flamma was warm, as one in a house of turf. “The flower could not rend the rock to make a cave for me,” thought she, “but it can dissolve the snow, which is as good!” Even as she thought this, the petals of the flower stretched out and licked the base of the rock; and their heat so grew that Flamma was forced to cover her face with her hands and draw further away. The snow was dissolved for many yards around, and the rock grew red and then white, and crumbled away, until it was rent from base to top. The snow had been dissolved by The Flame-Flower gentle warmth, but the rock was consumed 58 by fierce heat; for the snow is cold from outward causes, but the rock is hard in itself. The Ble arpa ee 59 Then Flamma, having no fear of the strange flower, felt that she must take it up; and stretching forth her hand, she plucked it by the stalk, and placed it in her cap of moleskin. Its flame-petals mingled in her golden hair, and the flower neither burned her nor singed her hair; but while she wore it she felt cold no more, nor hungry, nor tired. The flame- flower shot forth a ray along the forest, making a narrow path of light ; and Flamma, knowing not why, fol- lowed the path; and the wolves shrank back. from the rays of the flower. Flamma followed the path of light made by the flame-flower in her hair, and the path led back to the hut amid the swamps. In sadness she came to the hut where her mother was. Honora sat within, her chin in her hand, her eyes fixed upon the fire of turf. Slowly she turned her cold eyes upon the girl, and said in a harsh voice, “Go hence! Follow your father, and trouble me not.” Yet when she saw the golden flicker in Flamma’s hair, her voice faltered. 60 The Flame-Flower Flamma threw herself at Honora’s feet, stretching forth her arms, and_ cried “Mother!” And her cry was so sad that the wild things of the forest heard it, and ceased their chattering and calling, and were silent. But Honora said, “I am no mother— get you hence!” Flamma laid her head upon her mother’s breast, so that the flame-flower rested over her mother’s heart; and Honora’s eyelids quivered, and her lip; she pressed her hand to her forehead, and passed it over her eyes ; and her eyes were wet with tears for the first time for so long! Then, as the flame-flower flickered over her heart, she broke into sobs, clasping Flamma to her, and fondling her; and so they stayed some space. Then Honora held out Flamma from her at arm’s length, gazing upon her; and she saw that the girl was pale and ill, which thing she had never perceived before that time ; and Honora placed her upon the poor bed of skins, preparing meat for her. The Flame-Flower 61 They say a great dark wolf came to the door at that time and glared within; and that when it saw the rays of the flower it shrank back, and so returned again into the forest, - howling. Flamma raised herself on her elbow, and said, ‘‘We must seek father.” But Honora stood in the doorway and said, ‘He is gone.” And her voice was hard. Flamma arose, and, taking the flower from her hair, set it in her mother’s breast. Then her mother’s eyes filled again with tears; and she stretched forth her arms from the doorway toward the forest, yearningly. Flamma said no word, but took meat and put it in a leathern bag, and hung it to her girdle, and took her mother’s hand ; so they went out into the forest, the flower in Hon- ora’s breast making a path of light ; and they followed the path many days. When they were weary, Flamma would place the flower upon the ground; and the snow would dis- appear, and the turf become dry, so that they could sleep. The flower warmed them, and the wolves and the serpents fled from it, 62 The Flame-Flower On the ninth day they found Evan. His javelin was broken, and he lay on the snow, wounded by a boar. Evan raised his eyes and saw them, and said, “Go hence, and leave me to die!” Then, while Honora bent toward him, the flame-flower fell from her breast on to the snow between them, and the petals of flame crept towards Evan, melting all the snow between those two; and the flower touched the breast of Evan and flickered there. Then Evan looked upon Honora, and stretched out his arms. There Honora and Flamma made a hut of branches, and tended Evan until he was well of his wound; and he looked upon them as one does who has waked from a dream, and took them to him. Thus had the flame-flower melted the snows. When Evan was strong again they went back to the hut among the marshes; but Flamma could walk no more, being too weak and ill; so that Evan carried her through the forest. While Flamma lay sick in the hut, the The Flame-Flower 63 flame-flower, which lay always gently flicker- ing upon her breast, fell to the Moor. Honora would have picked it up to replace it; but it escaped her hand, and crept along to the door, and so out. Then Flamma raised herself, and said— “The flower calls us, and we must follow it. JI am strong enough to walk.” But Evan and Honora said, “It cannot be. You are too weak to go.” Yet they saw that the girl knew better than they ; so they made her a litter of boughs, and put her upon it, covering her with an awning of skins; and carried her out. Honora took up the flower, and put it in her breast, and it cast a ray through the forest; so they took up the litter and followed the path of the ray, travelling slowly, and none when Honora grew weary. One night, on their journey, when they had made a tent of boughs and put Flamma under it, and she slept, they saw the flame- flower fall to the ground; and Evan would have picked it up; but it burnt his fingers, so that he needs must let it go. It crept 64 The Flame-Flower flaming along the ground until it came to a marsh, and it crossed the marsh quickly. All around, where the marsh was firmer, were crowds of wolves; these fled from the trail of fire. The flame-flower sped onward until it reached the foot of a tall rock like an island in the marsh; then the bright petals of the flower lengthened out, licking the rock, until they reached the foot of a castle builded upon it, many a bow’s length above. The fiery petals wrapped and licked round the walls, leaping upward toward the sky until the clouds were red; the stones of the castle grew red with the heat; and the castle glowed, filled with bright fire; and in the midst, at a window, stood one who strove to escape from the flames; and it seemed to those who watched that the form of him at the window changed to that of a wolf. There went up a great howl as of a wolf; and the wolf was seen no more. Then the flames died out ; the castle had fallen; and the rock it had stood upon was rent from foot to summit. Thus had the flame-flower rent The Flame-Flowér 65 the hard rock: but Flamma knew not of it; for when she awoke the flame-flower flickered gently on her breast. Five days they journeyed after this; and on the sixth they came out from the forest upon a great road that had been made by the conquerors; and here the flower fell to the ground, and stayed still, and they waited a space. After a while Evan lay down with his ear to the ground. ‘T hear the tramp of a great host,” he said. Honora turned pale and said, “Let us hasten again into the shelter of the forest : for we are outlaws, and they who take us will kill us.” But Flamma said: “The flower moves not from its place. Pray, father, put your ear again to the ground; for these can be no enemies.” So he put his ear to the ground again, and said, “It is the tramp of horses, and of men who step together in time ; and none do that but those from the South, whom I love. Yet they have all gone back to their own land.” So they. waited, and presently came a E 66 The Flame-Flower legion of the conquerors from the South, marching toward the North. First there came many horsemen in hel- mets of brass, and at their head a captain; and Evan knew this captain for a friend of Licinius, and begged to speak with him. So the captain stayed his horse, and drew aside as the legion passed by; and Evan made known to him his own friendship with Licinius, at whose name the captain listened willingly to him; and Evan besought succour, showing him the child who was sick. So the captain bade two foot-soldiers bring a litter from the baggage, and place Flamma within it, and so carry her; and other two bore Honora in another litter ; and for Evan a horse was found. So they journeyed with the legion to the town of Ratz, and there found a lodging. | For many days Evan and Honora watched by the couch of Flamma, while the flame- flower on her breast grew ever paler and | smaller; and one day, toward sunset, as they stood watching the child, Evan took Honora’s hand in his, and so they stood, with their hands clasped together; for the The Flame-Flower 67 pale little flame-flower was drooping, and the colour of its petals could scarce be seen. Honora laid her head down by the child’s, and hid her face in the golden hair; and Evan stood with his head low, watching the flower as it faded. But as they watched, and could hardly see the light of the flower, it flickered a little and grew stronger; and Flamma opened her eyes and sighed. All through the night they watched ; and the flame waxed slowly brighter and brighter; till, when Eostre the dawn- goddess looked in at the window, her light could not hide the light of the flower, so greatly had it brightened; and before many days Flamma stood in the meadows without the wall of Rate, with Evan and her mother. But the flame-flower had gone from her hair, for its work was done. SECOND PART , minds of men were stirred with great fear and perplexity, for those that journeyed from the North told dreadful tales of how the wild men beyond the borders were thronging over the great wall of defence which the conquerors had built long ago to keep them AG,| out; and now the friendly con- oy tf) querors, who had ruled and pro- "tected the land for four hundred years, had all gone. In the hamlet of Pratulum, where were the ruins of the great house that had once been the home of Licinius, and after him of Evan, the men stood in unquiet groups, speaking uneasily of the terror which came 68 The Flame-Flower 69 daily nearer to them from the North. For the men of Pratulum, and those of the whole land, were no warriors and knew not the use of arms, having grown unused to help- ing themselves during the long years of peace under the protection of their rulers and masters. They, and their forefathers for ages, had ploughed, and reaped, and laboured for their conquerors; but the sword they had not touched, and _ their hands had no skill in its use. So they came like sheep, huddled around their meeting- place, to talk in fear and foreboding ; for they had no plan. “They will come upon us, these Northern men, they murmured, “and will slay us, and our women, and our children, as the wolves slay the sheep; for they spare none!” “If ye will be sheep, ye shall die as sheep,” said a young man who held in his hand a javelin. “What would you have us do, young Griffith?” they asked. “Fight!” said the young man, 70 The Flame-Flower They laughed jeeringly, without mirth, saying — ‘How fight? These wild men from be- yond the great wall have the skill of arms, and are fierce!” “Be ye fierce too, then,” said Griffith. “Some among you have javelins which your masters gave you—they have slain wolves and can slay enemies; ye have knives—make spears of them; ye have bows that will slay the fox and the hare; in the forest, where the yew-trees grow, there are The Flame-Flower 71 greater bows that will slay these savages from the North.” But they shook their heads, and _ said, “Who shall lead us?” And at that moment came the sound of a horn from the edge of the wood ; and the men turned pale, and drew together whispering, “It is the men from the North!” Now, in the days long ago (before the conquerors had come, when hamlet warred with hamlet, and all that dwelt beyond the belt of forest might be foes), it was binding upon any true man who passed the forests and so came forth into a hamlet not his own, that he should sound a horn, that those of the hamlet should be aware of his coming and that he might not steal upon them as a foe or a robber would. And this custom had fallen into disuse these many years. A single figure broke from the wood and drew near them, till it had come within a javelin-cast, and then it halted. It was a tall and strong figure, with fair hair—it was Evan. “Tt is he who herds with the evil spirits of 72 The Flame-Flower the forest! It is the companion of Morddec, son of the wolf-woman,” they cried; and made as though to slay him. “Hear me!” cried Evan, “for I come for your sakes, not mine own. Even now the wild men from the North have passed the wall of Hadrian, and draw daily nearer.” ‘“‘He is in league with the Northern wolves,” The Flame-Flower 73 shouted the men. “Slay him!” And one who held a pruning-hook hurled it at Evan: but the young man Griffith, who had drawn near Evan, threw out his arm and stopped the weapon ; and it cut his arm to the bone, and so saved Evan’s head. ‘Fle is no friend of Morddec, but his foe,” cried Griffith. ‘‘ He destroyed the castle of the Wolf by fire; for I was in the forest, and saw him do this thing. Has Morddec stolen upon you these seven years? Have his wolves taken your sheep? No—for he died in his castle ; and Evan compassed it!” Now Griffith had been a boy of fourteen when he had seen this sight; and he had said nought of it to the men of the settle- ment; for he knew their suspicion of all who went into the forest, and feared that they would drive him from among them. But now he spoke, being a man grown. . Evan tore a strip from his woollen tunic, and bound up Griffith’s arm tightly; then he turned to the men of the hamlet :— “Hear me! I had done no wrong when ye cast me out from among you, but lay 74 The Flame-Flower under the evil spells of Morddec—I and my wife Honora. Ye burned my good house, and took from me my sheep and my goods ; and now I come among you from a place of safety—from a walled town—to save you. Will ye be slaughtered by the men of the North, or will ye follow aay word, and save yourselves?” Then one ftom among them stepped forth to Evan, and another followed; then three or four more; then all sent up a shout that they would follow his word. So Evan set them to work to cut down trees from the forest, and draw them to the | The Flame-Flower 77 high hill where the camp of the conquerors had been; and they set up a great and _ strong palisade inside the ditch, upon the mound around the crown of the hill—they worked in haste. When the palisade was done, and two strong doors placed in it, Evan said— “Bring your household goods within the palisade, and leave your homes in the valley ; and build yourselves huts within the fort; and I will go and bring you weapons.” Evan and Griffith took the great stone road, and journeyed to the town of Rate; and there Evan procured a waggon and a yoke of oxen. Then Evan took Griffith to a house inside the town ; and there lay a store of javelins, helmets, shields, and short heavy swords, which the captain of the legion had left with Evan at his entreaty. They put the arms in the waggon; and Honora and Flamma were placed in it; and so they set out to Pratulum, Evan and Griffith walking by the oxen. Flamma looked upon Griffith; and he was tall and strongly made, and his face was 78 The Flame-F lower handsome. She tended the wound in his arm that he had come by in saving Evan’s life ; and she knew that Griffith was brave. So they arrived at the camp at Pratulum, and helped the people to finish the huts; after that they built a hut for themselves in the midst of the camp. Evan and the young man Griffith gave out the weapons to the men, and practised them in their use, making them engage in mock fight one with another. They set up marks to cast the javelins at, and cut great bows of yew-tree from the forest, and made arrows of ash and holly, tipping them with sharp flints, in readiness for the men of the North. When Griffith was near Flamma, she was glad ; and when he spoke to her, her heart beat with joy. One day, when Griffith brought her a golden armlet which he had found in the grass of the camp, she coloured with happiness, and could scarcely thank him. I! One day Flamma (who was a tall maiden now) sat in the fringe of the forest among the birds and squirrels that came to her for food; when she saw Griffith pass a little space off, on his way to cut wood for bows and arrows. She watched him pass away out of sight; and when she turned again she saw a beautiful maiden standing by a great oak. This maiden did not perceive Flamma, for she was gazing after Griffith as Flamma herself had done. The maiden followed slowly along the way that Griffith had taken, and Flamma watched her until she had gone from sight. Flamma followed the unknown maiden, creeping silently after her along the soft green moss. When she had thus gone some way, she came upon the hillside where the yew-trees grew, and , 79 80 The Flame-Flower where men had found iron in the earth; and here she stopped suddenly, and drew back into the shadow, for Griffith was cutting bow-wood from a tree; and a little space from him, concealed from him by the bushes, stood the unknown maiden, gazing upon him. So the two maidens stood awhile, the unknown one looking upon Griffith, and. Flamma upon her. Presently the maiden turned away ; and again Flamma followed her silently, until she saw her come to a little pool of still water in a rivulet. There the maiden bent down and gazed upon the reflection of her own face, and arranged her long brown hair, and twined young oak-leaves and flowers in it. Flamma was filled with a great wonder who the maiden could be; for she knew all the women of Pratulum, young and old; and there was none among them like the unknown maiden; for she was very lovely to look upon, having great brown eyes as soft as those of a fawn, nor was there any woman in the homesteading clad like her; The Flame-Flower 83 for she wore a flowing robe like those of the women of the conquering race, only more simple than theirs, and with less colour. Her robe was of a pale greenish tint, like the shadow of a forest in spring cast upon snow; and she wore no ornaments but young oak leaves and forest flowers. ‘Who are you, maiden?” Flamma asked. ‘‘T am a hamadryad,” said the maiden, gaz- ing at Flamma with her great brown eyes. ‘Whence come you?” “T live in the heart of this great oak. We were born together, the oak and I. When the oak dies, I shall die too.” “But you are young—hardly a woman yet!” said Flamma. “T am young—yet I have lived four hundred years,” said the maiden. She was so fair and simple that Flamma took her hand, and stroked her brown hair. The birds and squirrels came about the hamadryad-maiden even more than about Flamma; for the maiden was one of them- selves, owing her life to the forest. Flamma and she wandered hand in hand along the 84 The Flame-Flower glades ; and many a time after that Flamma went to the great oak and called (for Flamma had no fear of the forest, having lived in it so long as a child; and the people of the homesteading knew her ways, and said no evil of her); and the hamadryad would come forth, and so they would wander together, or sit by the pools of the rivulet: and Flamma loved themaiden. One day she went into the forest as usual, and came upon Griffith asleep in the mossy glade where the great oak stood. By him tinkled the little rivulet, forming still pools here and there; and over him stretched the arms of the great oak, shading him. While Flamma stood near, looking upon him, she saw the unknown maiden come The Flame-Flower 85 out from the trunk of the oak; nor was there any hollow in the trunk that a person might go into, so that Flamma wondered. When the maiden perceived Griffith asleep, she went to one of the still pools and arranged her hair by the reflection; then she turned and looked earnestly at Griffith, and her hands were clasped over her breast ; and very slowly she drew near to Griffith, and sat down by him, very near, gazing at him as he slept. Flamma turned and wandered away, drop- ping from her hand the wild flowers which she had gathered to deck the hamadryad- maiden’s hair. Now she did not notice the little wild things that came about her. “Is this why he comes so often into the forest?” she kept saying to herself. ‘Is she fairer than I? Is she fairer than I?” Then she wondered at herself, and why she asked these questions. After that she went no more to seek the maiden; but once again she stole to the mossy glade by the great oak, and Griffith lay asleep as before; and the hamadryad sat by him, watching him. doo e Eo Wap Then Flamma took off Y~ : & g the golden armlet from RNa " ai her arm, and flung it Se a Ben ~ Into a pool of the rivu- «% am ‘ let; and the maiden looked eee ) fg up at the sound, but fancied ~~ "vt a fish had made it, not perceiving iy «= Flamma. Flamma stole away ; and her ~~ look was so angry that the little : wild things which she fed crept from her in fear, for they had never seen her look so before. The squirrel whispered the news of it to the ring-dove, and the ring-dove told it to the long-tailed tit ; and they talked long of it, and wondered. That night the blackbird woke from his sleep and talked the matter over in wonder and dis- ; may, waking the linnet, who talked of it too. eee Flamma was very angry with the hama- | oo dryad- maiden, and very unhappy; she 35 stamped her foot on the green moss, and pressed her hands ay jt ne. S Wide. AES, Lice Gath a The Flame-Flower 87 over her eyes, making a resolve that she would never speak to Griffith again. ‘She is not so fair as I,” she said; “yet this is why he comes so often into the forest, pre- tending to cut bows.” No—she would never look at Griffith again; and, thinking this, she turned and went slowly back to the place where she had left him sleeping. As she caught sight of him he was wak- ing. The unknown maiden had wreathed around him as he slept long trails of creeping plants twined with forest flowers, and she still sat by him. Griffith woke, and looked at the maiden; and she stretched forth her hand and stroked his curling hair. But Griffith arose in wonder, as if he knew her not; and when the maiden touched his hand, he drew it away “He quarrels with her,” said Flamma to herself. The maiden stretched forth her hand again to touch his cheek, but he put her hand away and turned from her. “Fle knows her not!” said Flamma to herself. 88 The Flame-Flower Then Griffith took up ‘his bow-wood and axe, and strode away ; and the maiden gazed after him with her hands clasped on her breast, and tears rolled down her cheeks. A long time the maiden stood there gazing after him; then her head drooped, and she wept silently. Flamma broke from her hiding-place and stood before the hamadryad. “T hate you!” she said. The maiden gazed at her with great round eyes, full of surprise, and sought to touch her hand; but Flamma thrust her away. « Sister, what have I done?” asked the hamadryad. Then Flamma flushed red with shame of herself, and covered her face with her hands : but when the maiden knelt before her, won- dering at her emotion, and touching her arm gently, Flamma drew herself up and un- covered her face, and feigned to laugh. “He is beautiful,” said the maiden, ‘and I am lonely when he is not in the forest ; yet he has never seen me until this day.” And she sat on the roots of the oak and sobbed; The Flame-Flower 89 and the branches of the oak sighed in the breeze above. Flamma, hating Griffith and the hama- dryad, went toward home. She saw a little flicker among the bracken, and she knew it was the flame-flower, which she had not seen for so long. As she took it up and put it in her breast, a voice seemed to say, “Place me between Griffith and thyself, and he will turn to thee.” But as the flower flickered in her breast, she stopped; then turned and hurried back to the hamadryad, finding her still sitting with drooping head upon the oak roots ; and Flamma went and sat by her side, putting her arms round her; and the hamadryad gazed upon the flower with eyes like a child's. It was nearly dark when Flamma left her and hurried toward the camp; and now she thought no more of herself, but only of the hamadryad’s grief. The voice in the flower seemed to keep repeating, ‘‘ Place me between Griffith and thyself.” By the edge of the wood she met Griffith coming to seek her and bring her to the 90 | The Flame-Flower camp. ‘Place me between Griffith and thyself, and he will turn to thee,” the flower seemed to whisper ; and Flamma stopped on the way toward him, hesitating. She took the flower, and would have cast it away, but did not; and when she came forward, she was very pale: and she held the flower in the hand further from Griffith, and so carried it on the way home. Once, as they came to a turn in ie path, Griffith crossed over and came on that side of her where she held the flower; and that moment he turned toward her, and gazed at her ; but she quickly took the flower in her further hand. Then she bit her lip, and could not speak for awhile. Ill OR some days after Griffith did not go into the forest; and Flamma, wearing the flame-flower ever in her breast, thought often of the hamadryad, pitying her. Yet when, for any moment, the flower was not in her breast, she hated her. On the fifth day, Flamma went to where Griffith kept the yew-wood which he had cut for making bows, and took the branches and hid them. Griffith, going to the place for more yew- wood, found none; and so set forth once more into the forest to cut fresh branches. In the heat of the afternoon Flamma went silently into the forest, and so came upon Griffith sleeping in a glade; and, as she waited concealed, the hamadryad came and 9x 92 The Flame-Flower found him sleeping as she had done before, and sat down by him with her back to Flamma. Flamma crept up and dropped the flame- flower between Griffith and the hamadryad, and stole back to her hiding-place. Evan awoke, and saw the maiden; she stretched forth her hand to touch his hair, and he took her hand in his, and gazed upon her; then Flamma pressed her hand over her heart, and crept away; and sat down and sobbed among the trees. IV One day, as Flamma stood upon the great road, a stranger came running in deadly fear. “Save thyself,” he cried, “for the foes from the North are upon us. Hasten with me to the camp, for even now they are not two thousand paces away.” “ Haste thou to the camp and warn them,” cried Flamma ; and she plunged into the forest in the other direction. The man gazed for a moment; then turned, and ran again toward the camp. As Flamma went swiftly through the underwood, she began to hear the sounds of distant shouting and yells, as of furious beasts. Then there passed her three men running for life, wounded and bleeding ; but Flamma pushed on away from the camp, toward the hillside where the yew-trees crew, 93 94 The Flame-Flower She panted wearily as she ran, and could scarcely keep on; but still she struggled forward, till she came to the yew-grove. The Flame- Flower 95 Griffith knelt there, tying together a bundle of bow-wood; and she cried to him to flee to the camp, for the men of the North were upon them. Even as she said it, shouts and yells sounded from the glades close at hand; and with the shouts mingled the howling of a wolf. Then Griffith caught her up, and carried her quickly for some space; but she felt him tiring beneath her weight, and heard the howling ever growing nearer and nearer ; and Griffith’s breath grew thick beneath her weight, and he stumbled frequently. Flamma said, ‘“‘ Put me down, for I can run well now ;” and slipped down from his arms, and ran ahead of him into the undergrowth, straining herself to show him how fast she could run, so that she even drew away from him. “Flamma!” cried Griffith. ‘“‘T am ahead—I can run faster than thou,” called she from the undergrowth, though she could scarce find a voice to call with. Again he called to her; and again she forced herself to answer—ever on ahead. 96 The Flame-Flower “Follow, follow!” she called; ‘1 am ever ahead!” He could not see her, but followed, thinking she still went faster than he. | Now on the ridge of hill where the yew-trees grew she saw figures come running into sight —wild figures of men clad in skins, and with javelins in their hands; and leading them was the figure of a woman, yet in some way like that of a wolf ; and Flamma knew it was the wolf- woman, the mother of Morddec who was burned in his castle. Then Flamma called up all her remaining breath, and called cheerily once more to Griffith ; and so turned suddenly aside from the way he would follow her, and plunged into a great mass of bracken, and fell down in the midst of it on her face, knowing no more for a space. But Griffith passed, running, thinking her still ahead. A igs Lt yt The Flame-Flower 94 Then nearer and nearer came the shouts and the howling of the wolf; and the wolf- woman and those that followed her guidance passed close to her hiding-place along the way Griffith had taken; but Flamma knew not of it, having fainted. - After some space Flamma came to herself, and arose painfully, and so crept along in the direction of the camp. Then she was aware of the howling of the wolf once more, and of cries as of men who are hurt: so she hurried on and peered out of the brushwood to where Griffith stood at bay with his back to the great oak, and the foes from the North—seven there were —hurled their javelins at him, and struck at him with swords; the wolf- woman urging them on, and taunting them as they failed. Three of the strangers lay already among the roots of the oak, cut down by Griffith’s axe. And Flamma saw a strange thing. Al- though the day was calm and still, without a breeze, yet the great arms of the oak that ; G 98 The Flame-Flower stretched above Griffith waved wildly to and fro, and up. and down, beating the ground beneath. So swiftly did they wave, that when any foeman hurled a javelin at Griffith some branch would swing across, so that the javelin stuck deeply into it, quivering there. Yet when Griffith raised his axe to strike, ~ and brought it down, no branch impeded it. Then a great fellow, at a sign from the wolf- woman, slipped suddenly in while Griffith fought hard with four others, and cut at his head with his heavy sword; but swift as light a bough waved across and caught the sword, which cut deeply in and stuck there, and Griffith’s axe severed the -man’s head from his shoulders. Flamma broke suddenly from the brush- wood, and ran swiftly to Griffith’s side—so swiftly that none barred her passage; and as she came to his side, a branch that had a javelin sticking in it bent quickly down to her ; and she took the javelin, which came easily out of the branch. Then two rushed in to take her alive; but a bough swung down upon them, hurling them away fifty paces through the air; and they fell by the stream, and moved no more. Flamma threw her javelin at one; and it struck him in the foot, so that he could fight but poorly ; and Griffith slew one more; and the two that remained whole drew off; but the wolf-woman stood and cried, “Ye escape me for the moment; but we go to the camp to find Evan, that & slew my son in his castle; and the men of the North shall slay him, and all his house, and all that hold to him. Honora shall die—and thou Flamma —and thou Griffith; and my son Morddec’s spirit shall laugh in the air, for he shall be avenged!” Then the wolf-woman howled shrilly ; and there came forth from the forest around many wolves, until the glade was but a moving mass of 100 The Flame-Flower them. These came with glittering white teeth toward Flamma and Griffith; and Griffith had sunk down on the oak-roots from many wounds received before he had reached the tree. Flamma crouched over him, covering him, and covered her eyes with her hand. But when the first wolf came within reach of the tree, a bough swept down and hurled him high into the air, so that he fell afar off with a thud, and lay there; and the boughs swept the ground incessantly, or came crashing down upon the pack, crushing the wolves to the earth; so that no wolf might come within the sweep of the terrible boughs: and the ground was strewn with dead wolves in a great circle around the tree. Then the rest drew away in great fear, and disappeared into the undergrowth whence they had come. When the wolves had gone, and the great boughs were still and silent, Flamma fetched water from a pool and bathed Griffith’s wounds, and bound them up with shreds from her dress ; and by them stood the hama- dryad, with the flame-flower in her breast, The Flame-Flower 101 And Griffith opened his eyes; and his eyes sought the face of the hamadryad ; and Flamma turned her face away to hide it. Griffith was weak from his wounds; but a faint clamour arose from the distant camp upon the hill, and he sprang up and seized his axe and a javelin. “I must go to them,” he cried, “for I hear the horn of Evan thy father calling me.” Flamma sprang up too, to go with him. “Rest thou here, for thou wouldst be of no avail, and thy peril would fetter my arm.” And the maiden laid hold on Flamma, and held her back. “He is right,” said the hamadryad. So Griffith made what haste he could for his wounds, and came out from the edge of the forest, hurrying to the camp. When he came within sight of it, he saw a great host of the Northern men seething round the palisades, and the wolf-woman urging them on. She turned and saw Griffith afar off, and shrieked loud and long; and at the signal the wolves came forth from the forests, and set upon Griffith; but he 102 The Flame-Flower hewed them down with his axe on all sides, until he had made a wall of dead wolves around him. Then he ran, turning at each few paces to hew them down, until the few remain- ing slunk back to the forests ZB in fear. Griffith hewed his way through the outer ring of the foemen ; and Evan and his men saw him from within the pali- sade, and sent a thick flight of arrows on those around him; so that Evan reached the palisade and climbed over. Certain of the besiegers drew off, and returned with great loads of brush- wood, piling them against the palisade. The wolf-woman ran to them. “Not fire! Not fire!” she cried. ‘Hew them with the sword ; pierce them with the ja- velin; beat down the palisade — but not fire!” The Flame-Flower 103 ‘Why not fire, mother?” said the leader of the Northern men. But she only shrieked “Not fire!” For the wolves fear the fire. “If ye use fire, by fire ye shall your- selves be consumed,” she cried. But they kindled the heap of brushwood; and the palisade blazed up and a gap was made. Evan and Griffith stood in the gap, the fire scorching their faces, and hewed down the Northmen as they rushed on to enter; but the fire-breach widened and widened, and a double line of Evan’s men stood in it, keeping back the foemen from the gap; and as the gap widened the line lengthened. But Evan’s men fell by threes and fours, until two score had fallen; and Evan and Griffith, with the one score of their men who were left, set their backs to the huts within the palisade, and fought on. Then Evan fell; and Griffith stood over him, fighting on with his axe. Flamma crept forth from the edge of the forest, unseen by the besiegers, a javelin in + 104. The Flame-Flower her hand and the flame-flower on her breast : and the flame-flower fell to the ground and spread out its bine like lightning ire. along the ground toward the camp. : All suddenly the fire burst from a point of the burning pali- sade in great forks along the earth toward the Northmen, licking round their feet. “The fire! the fire!” cried the wolf-mother ; “I warned you of it. By the fire ye shall perish.” The Flame-Flower 105 The Northmen backed from the darting flames; but the flames came at them from every point of the palisade, surrounding them, but leaving a free circle round Griffith and Evan and theirmen. One after another the foemen fell, choked by the scorching heat; then they that remained fled head- long down the steep hill, the darting vines of fire pursuing them, making a network of lightning on the turf. And the Northern men fled to return no more to that place; and these told the tale to their fellows, so that after that no foeman came near that place within the lifetime of a man. All the rest of the land was overrun and devastated by them, and by others from the island to the west ; but they came no more to Pratulum. The wolf-mother had gone too. Some said she fell amid the flames; some said she fled away into the dark forests, but no man knows. Evan arose no more. For many days Honora and Flamma tended Griffith, who was nigh unto death: and those who saw him said, “He has met 106 The Flame-Flower the death-goddess, and looked upon her face.” But one day he opened his eyes feebly, and _ he lived. When he was past danger, but still weak, a terrible hurricane came across the high hill, and swept away the hut in the midst of the burned camp where he lay; and he and the women had no shelter. The dark forests moaned in the hurricane, and the tall trees rocked and swayed. “Let us go into the thick of the forest for shelter,’ said Flamma, “for the wind will be less there.” So they helped Griffith to walk down the hill, and came slowly into the forest; and while they rested, Flamma being a little apart from them, the flame-flower sprang up at her feet, and a voice seemed to say to her, “Place me between Griffith and thee, and he will turn toward thee.” But she shook her head sadly, and would not take it up, although it spread its tendrils about her foot, as if persuading her. Then she thought, “It is the hama- The Flame-Flower 07 dryad’s: I will take it to her;” and so took it up, but keeping it always in the hand further from Griffith. So they came presently out into the glade oes ear Oo Suceivan. of the great oak: and Flamma looked, and saw that the great oak had fallen before the hurricane, and lay uprooted. Then Flamma knew that the hamadryad was dead. 108 The Flame-Flower And Flamma, weeping, took the flame- flower, and placed it in a crevice of the bark, and so left it flickering there. They made a roof of branches, when the hurricane had abated a little more, among the limbs of the fallen oak ; and there Griffith lay until he was stronger, Evan’s remaining men hunting food for them all. One day, when Griffith was strong, he and Flamma leaned against the fallen oak ; and Griffith saw the flame-flower flicker- ing in the crevice of the bark, and took it up; for he knew of the flame-flower ere this, but knew not all its powers, yet only those of its might and fury. Flamma watched his face as he took up the flower, and her eyes filled with tears, “The maiden—she whose tree fought for us and saved our lives—is gone,” she said. Griffith looked sad, but said no word. Flamma waited. “He will ask whither she has gone, that he may follow her,” she thought. But he did not ask. ‘She is gone hence,” said F lamma. The Flame-Flower III “T am sorry,” said Griffith; “for she saved our lives, and was good and sweet.” “She is dead!” said Flamma. “She saved thy life!” “She saved my life once,” said Griffith, ‘“‘but thou didst save it thrice. Vet did the maiden do more than thou hast, for she saved thy life, Flamma—to me.” Flamma looked away from him, and he took her hand in his. She drew it away, saying, “ The oak-maiden is dead, Griffith, my brother.” But Griffith took her hand again in his, Flamma looking all the time away from him. “Put the flower from between us; take it in thy further hand,” said Flamma. _ “The flower is not between us,” said Griffith, “But it has been,” said Flamma. ‘Nay, it has not,” answered Griffith, “for IT have held it all the while in my further hand.” “Cast the flower from thee, Griffith,” said Flamma: and he did so, and took her hand again in his; and she left her hand in his. Old Primrose Old Primrose In the village of Low Downbury lived a dreadfully ugly old man named Primrose. When a great friend of his, who had not seen him since he was a baby of one year old, caught sight of him at the age of eighty- five, he did not recognise him. “This can’t be my old friend Primrose!” he exclaimed, “because my old friend Primrose, the very last time I saw him, was quite pink and smooth, and this person is quite soot - coloured, and all over wrinkles!” And his old friend would not have anything to do with him. I have merely told you this to show how ugly old Primrose was. One day in the spring time, Daisy Tinkler, alittle girl who lived in the village, was gather- : IIS 116 Old Primrose ing primroses, when she came suddenly upon the old man sitting on a bank under a hedge, with his toes in the grass. “How dreadfully ugly you are!” ex- claimed Daisy (very rudely). ‘‘ You are not a bit like a primrose !” Now this information was a great shock to the old man, and rankled deeply in his mind. He only said, ““ You don’t see me in the right lightjust here, and can’t judge,” pretending not to care. But as a matter of fact he dzd care; for he had always had a sort of notion that he was something like a primrose, his mother having told him so at the age of one; and this really accounted for his habit of sitting under a hedge with his toes in the grass. He tried hard, when Daisy had gone away, to look more like a primrose ; he held up his hands in the position of leaves, and tried to sit in a group like primroses do: but his belief was really shattered, and he got up moodily and went home. All night he lay awake, brooding over what Daisy Tinkler had said; and next morning he went and laid an information with the Old Primrose 119 Village Council against Daisy, accusing her of having slandered him, and injured his reputation : and the Council met, and ordered the village policeman to arrest Daisy Tinkler and imprison her in the pound until they had passed judgment. When all the evidence was prepared the Village Council met. Daisy entered several pleas to the effect that she had never seen the old man; and that when she saw him she did not say a word to him; and that the words she said to him were justifiable and true in substance and in fact; and that old Primrose did not exist, and therefore could _ not be injured by what she had said. You see, this is the way they always plead in the High Courts of Justice; for where you have law you must have common-sense, all law being founded upon common-sense. If your father is a solicitor or a judge, just ask him; and he will tell you that I am right, although it’s a great secret. Well, the great point the Village Council had to consider was whether Daisy’s words were justifiable ; and to that end they called 120 Old Primrose old Primrose before them, to decide whether he was like a primrose or not. They arranged a little bank of grass in the court, and placed some twigs behind it to represent a hedge; but old Primrose’s bar- rister objected that that was not a fair test, because his client always looked more like a primrose when he sat among trees. So the Council had a number of trees brought and set up in court; and then the barrister insisted on the floor being covered with moss and bracken ; and this was done. $ Then old Primrose sat down in the moss under ei the bracken, and covered his toes with grass, and spread out his hands like leaves, and tried hard to sit in a group and look butter-coloured ; and his barrister asked the Council to go to the further corner of the room and look at his client with one eye shut and their heads sideways. Old Primrose 121 One of the Council—the cobbler—fancied he add see some resemblance to a primrose when he nearly shut his eyes; but the other two members—the hedger-and-ditcher, and the tinker—did not agree with him. They adjourned the case to think it over, and finally decided that old Primrose was xot like a primrose, except in the colour of the whites of his eyes. So he had to pay his own costs, and Daisy Tinkler was set at liberty. II Now this had a very great effect upon the old man’s mind; he went home brooding about it; and on his way he met a beautiful butterfly. He watched this butterfly for some time ; and then he exclaimed, ‘I w7// be like some- thing beautiful! If they won’t let me be like a primrose I will snub them all by being so like a butterfly that they will not know I’m not one; and then I can laugh at them!” You see old Primrose was very revengeful ! So he followed the butterfly and observed its ways; and, when nobody was looking he tried to copy them. He poked two little sticks into the pockets of his coat-tails to stiffen them out like wings, and made two little wisps of his hair stand up to look like antenne. 122 Old Primrose 123 His great fault was conceit; and this carried him away now: for, seeing some of the village boys coming along from school, he decided to impose upon them by mak- ing them believe him to be a butterfly, although he had not yet practised the @ part half enough, and was unprepared for a public rehearsal. So he stood on a stump, made his coat-tails tremble, and let the two wisps of hair wave in the breeze. But as the boys passed by they said, ‘‘ Hullo, there’s old Prim- rose—what’s he doing xzow ?” “They recognise me in spite of the disguise,” mut- tered the old man in great ;* disappointment ; and he per- ceived that if the thing was to be done at all it must be done thoroughly. He would have to begin at the beginning, and carry the thing through. 124 Old Primrose So he went to the lending library, and asked for a natural history book. ‘‘What subject do you want ?” asked the librarian. Old Primrose was too artful to divulge his great secret like that. He wasn’t going to say “ Butterfly” and give himself away ; so he said “ Butter.” “There isn’t anything about butter in the natural history,” said the librarian. Then old Primrose tried ‘buttons’; but that wouldn't do either. However, they gave him the volume with “B” in it, which was what he required. Very eagerly he trotted home and looked out ‘‘butterflies”—and it referred him to “moths”; so he doddered back to the lib- rary, and pretended the subject he wanted was ‘‘mottled soap.” “No ‘mottled soap’ in the natural his- tory,” said the librarian; but he was tired of old Primose, and gave him the volume containing the M’s. Then the old man set to work to study the subject deeply, and discovered that Old Primrose 125 the butterfly is first an egg, then a small maggot, then a larger maggot, then a grub, and finally a butterfly. “T must begin at the beginning, and come out of an egg,” old P. reflected. For this time he meant to do 4 the thing thoroughly. So he set to work to study coming out of eggs; he went and crawled under the hay-stack where Jane the hen was hatching out a brood, and watched little Zedekiah, the eldest chicken, emerge from the shell. “Would you mind repeating that ?—I didn’t quite catch it,” said old Primrose. The new chick smiled, and got in again and repeated it. “Haven't guzte got the hang of ’ ityet,’saidold P. “If it wouldn't give you too much trouble es “Not at all—quite delighted, I’m sure,” said the obliging chick, doing it again. “Are you thinking of getting hatched, Mr. Primrose?” asked Jane the hen politely. 126 Old Primrose “Well, ma’am—ah—in a kind of general way of speaking—yes.” You see old P. was very cunning: he allowed her to think that he contemplated being hatched as a chick. He chuckled a long time at his own deepness. “But how to get an egg big enough for me!” mused old P. Then he called again on Jane the hen. “I’m sorry to trouble you again, ma’am,” he said ; “‘but—if I don’t interrupt you—I’m. very anxious to have your advice.” “Pray come in, Mr. Primrose,” said Jane. “Well, ma’am, I was going to ask you whether— when you had half-an-hour to spare—you could manage to lay an egg large enough for me to get into.” ‘“Well now, dear me!” said Jane, “that’s quite a new idea tome. If you'll just show me how small you can curl up, I might think it over. Well, I really don’t know—I’m very bad at calculation—my poor mother always was. Now I’ve no doubt, if we asked Mr. Rooster my husband, he would know, Old Primrose 127 He is very clever—I really think there’s nothing he doesn’t know. Rooster !” “What is it, my dear?” said Rooster the cock; “you mustn’t keep me—I’ve a train to catch—very important business!.. . Eh—egg big enough for Mr. Primrose— dear me, dear me! No—I really feel that the strain on your mind would be too great. You want rest. “I assure you she worries herself so,” he said, turning to old P. ‘And the ser- vants are such a trouble. Tell you what though—we might collect all the cast-off eggs from under this stack; and there’s little Zedekiah’s—he will not require it any more; and—here, you youngsters, aren't you getting up yet?” Here Mr. Rooster tapped at all the eggs in the nest; and there was a chorus of ‘All right, pa—out in a minute or two.” So old P. collected a great many broken eggs, and, sticking the pieces together with stamp-edging, made himself a mag- nificent egg, large enough to creep: into; then he neatly closed up the hole from in- 128 Old Primrose side, and was completely shut in; then he waited. He was waiting for little Daisy Tinkler to come by from school; for he was de- termined to convince her above every one else. He owed her a grudge, you know. He had left a little eye-hole to look out of ; and presently he perceived Daisy coming along. When she was close by old Primrose, in- side the egg, called out, ‘“‘ Look out for the caterpillar !” Daisy, of course, could not make out whence the voice came; but she stopped, and noticed the great egg. «Stand by there!” shouted old Primrose, poking his head through the shell and emerging. Now this time he had really prepared the thing well. He had mixed some white- wash with some of the green colour which people use for tinting the glass of green- Old Primrose “129 houses, and had painted his clothes with it; then he had dabbed brown spots all along the back, and had painted his bald head black ; so he really looked exactly like a caterpillar unless one peered into him and detected his spectacles, and boots, and so on. “What a great caterpillar!” exclaimed Daisy Tinkler; “and how ugly it is—why, it’s quite like old Mr. Primrose.” Now this remark rather troubled old Re for he could not feel certain whether Daisy was really deceived, or whether she recog~ nised him and was poking fun at him. However, he threw himself into the part, and crawled slowly on his waistcoat to the cabbage-bed, and all over the cabbages, biting pieces out. There was one thing which caused him great regret—he could not for the life of him recollect what sort of noise a caterpillar makes—whether it grunts, or croaks, or squeaks, or hoots. So he tried little short jerky grunts, and looked out of the corner of his eye to see how Daisy took it. He fancied Daisy I 130 Old Primrose seemed surprised to hear a caterpillar grunt, so he changed the sound and tried little squeals; and he fancied she found this all right, and kept to it. Daisy, after watching him for a long time, went away apparently quite satisfied. So old P. was delighted with his success, and determined to carry the thing through properly ; for he began to believe that he might become a real, proper, natural butter- fly in the end, if he went through all the processes all right. That night he slept under a very large cauliflower ; and at daylight he was up again, and crawling all over the vegetables. Daisy came to look at him again, and appeared to be quite deceived ; and old P. chuckled. Ill Now comes the sad part of this story—the duplicity of George, old Primrose's pig. George had keenly observed all old P.’s doings for some time past, and had put two and two together, checking off the result on his four pettitoes, with his tail as a marker. George was perfectly aware that the great caterpillar was no real genuine caterpillar, but old Primrose in disguise; for George had looked underneath him when pretending to grub up artichokes, and had observed his silk watch-guard and his spectacles, and knew that caterpillars never wear such things. But George pretended to fully believe that it was a real caterpillar—and why ? Why, because’ he was a very dishonour- 13r 132 Old Primrose able and worldly-minded pig, and desired to slip into old Primrose’s place, become owner of the little cottage and garden-patch, and wear old P.’s hats and red Sunday waist- coat. So the next time that Daisy came along to look at old P., George strolled casually up, and remarked in an airy manner— ‘That's a very fine caterpillar, miss!” “T’m not quite sure it zs a caterpillar,” said Daisy. “Why, my dear child,” said George. ‘Bless my soul! Why not?” _ “Well, it has boots on,” said Daisy. “Certainly! Very common thing among caterpillars of that species,” replied George. “Quite usual. Don’t you see, caterpillars have to live in very damp places, and it’s necessary to have pretty stout boots to keep the feet dry—quite indispensable. I knew a caterpillar once—very dear friend of mine— who neglected this precaution and caught a severe chill. Carried him oft in twelve hours. Very sad!” and the pig hid his face in the swill-tub to hide his emotion. Old Primrose 133 “But where is old Mr. Primrose ?” asked Daisy doubtfully. “Bh? What, old P.? Oh, gone away —very important business. Probably won’t be back for years—years. In fact, he asked 134 Old Primrose me as a favour, before he started, to look to things in his absence.” You see George was artfully clearing the way for himself. Old Primrose now decided that the right time had come for him to turn into a grub ; so he lay down quite still on the garden seat, having covered himself with great cabbage- leaves. He gave his mind to trying to shrink and turn a dirty brown all over. Daisy came from time to time, and turned up a corner of a cabbage-leaf, to see how he was getting on. “ Mustn’t dfsturb him too much just now,” remarked George the pig, casually strolling up. “Very critical time with caterpillars. Need complete repose and quiet.” Nevertheless Daisy, being inquisitive, could not resist the temptation to go and peep daily at old P.; and now old P. had another trouble—he had neglected to inquire what sort of noise grubs make. He knew that the sound would not be likely to be the same as that made by the caterpillar; and it occurred to him that the grub, being in a Old Primrose 137 torpid condition, would most probably snore ; so, to increase the deception, whenever he heard Daisy’s footstep on the path, he would begin to snore loudly. “That shows he’s getting on all right, you know,” remarked George the pig. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, a very disturbing thought occurred to old P. as he lay under the cabbage-leaves—Did butterfly grubs wrap themselves up in cocoons? He could not remember what the natural history had said about that; and, as he had returned the book to the lending library, it was not convenient to go and borrow it again; be- sides, time pressed. So he got up and scratched his -head, and finally decided that, as silkworms made cocoons, it would be better to make one and chance it. He therefore went very quietly out of the garden in the darkness, and crept to the general shop kept by Miss Pupsey. Pushing aside the catch of a window, he got in and entered the shop. He went straight to the shelf where the skeins of worsted dUye