A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)

The

his bene

d the dar

sense of the tr

h her tra

reat gift

. HE

-the tenth match, but the same pipeful of tobacco; and his wife, an ample, motherly woman, slightly younger than himself, was knitting on the other side of the open fireplace, in which still glowed a mass of peat ashes. From time to time sh

f snow still lying on the mountain heights behind the village. Across vineyard slopes and patches of agricultural land, the Lake of Neuchatel lay blue as a southern sea, while beyond it, in a line of white that the sunset s

y down her back. She was sixteen and very earnest, but her eyes, brown like her father's, held a curious puzzled look, as th

said at once. She always did wash up. And

ugh her baptismal names were rather fine. Sometimes she answered, too, to Jinny

tness. And first she stooped and picked up the last match her fath

him about the bills-washing, school-books, boots, blouses, oil, and peat. And as she did so a puzzled expression was visible in his eyes akin to t

vaguely, referring to the peat, though Mother was alrea

cheaper,' she said with emphasis on every al

aintive accents from the tiny kitchen that lay beyond the adjoining bedroom.

embled the animal in question even less than did her father-'I saw it last on the geranium shelf-you know, where the fuchsias and the-' She hesitated, sh

ind with difficulty from the peat,

ld, who had disappeared again. 'It was in th

hearing his name, 'because I only dried. It was Monkey who wa

wonderful, though neither of her parents could have supplied them without a moment's reflection first. There was commotion by that window for a moment but it soon subsided again, for things that Jinny said ne

g both her parents, as though uncertain which of them would help her. 'You

t,' he let fall to his wife as he went, referring to the chaos of expenses she had been discussing with him. 'That'll be all right.' For his mind had not yet sorted the jumble of peat, oil, boots, school- boo

und making remarks in his beard about the geraniums, the China tea, the indigestible new bread, the outrageous cost of the necessaries of life, or the book he was at work on at the moment. He often enough gave his uncertain assistance in the little menial duties connected with the preparation or removal of the tea-things, and had even been known to dry. Only washing-up he never did. Somehow his vocation rendered him immune from that. He might bring the peat in, fill the lamps, arrange and dust the scanty furniture, but washing-up was not a possibility even. As an author it was considered beneath his dign

his sister would answer, 'Don't you see, I suppose the cabman meant-' finishing with some explanation very far from truth, whereupon Jimbo, accepting it doubtfully, said nothing, and they turned another page with keen anticipation. They never appealed for outside aid, but enjoyed it in their own dark, mysterious way. And, presently, when the washing-up was finished, and the dusk began to dim the landscape and conceal the ghostly-looking Alps, they retired to the inner bedroom-for this was Saturday and there were no school tasks to be prepared-and there, se

hildren learned the language and enjoyed the air of forest and mountain into the bargain. Life, for all that, was a severe problem to them, and the difficulty of making both ends come in sight of each other, let alone meeting, was an ever-present one. That they jogged along so well was due more than the others realised to the untiring and selfless zeal of the Irish mother, a plucky, practical woman, and a noble one if ever such existed on this earth. The way she contrived would fill a book; her economies, so clever they hardly betrayed themselves, would supply a comic annual with material for years, though their comedy involved a pathos of self-denial and sleepless nights that only those similarly placed could have divined. Herself a silent, even inarticulate, woman, she never spoke of them, least of all to her husband, whose mind it was her brave desire to keep free from unnecessary worries for his work. His studies she

ental values of clothing, food, and education that all shared alike and made no pretence about. Any faintest sign of snobbery, for instance, would have been drummed out of the little mountain hamlet at once by Gygi, the gendarme, who spent more time in his fields and vineyards than in his uniform. And, wh

m honourable tribute for his work. It seemed so unnecessary. Vineyards produced wine a man could drink and pa

l between two stools. And his chagrin was undeniable; for though the poet's heart in him kept all its splendid fires alight, his failure chilled a little the intellect that should fashion them along ef

ight, there was certainly no sign of sadness. They were like a party of children in which th

ne demanded, 'but a told one, not a read-

from the window where she had been watching them with gasps of astonishment no one had heeded through the small end of the opera-glasses. There was a dancing brilliance in her movements, and her eyes, brown like he

r, while Mother glanced up a second uncertain whether to criticise the impertinence or let it pass. S

d by getting so thin themselves that th

asked Jane Anne, ever

romantic or

for a moment

w. He's making

pipe with a solemnity that delighted them, but puzzled Jane Anne, who suggested it would taste

interrupted Jinny, still uncomforted. Some

lly thin,' he went on, 'that they end by ge

about the wedge. Indeed Jane Anne shared with Jimbo total ignorance of the word at all. Like the audience

sible disappointment. For the recent talk about expenses had chilled his imagina

it anyhow,' came the

d in the breathless pa

ctantly from her busy

hin Child who stole a

w thinner t

end of

so pitif

is teeth

e it set hi

than getti

the edge

eth were i

s a pancake, for of course the children did not understand it. Its nonsense, clever enough, escaped them. True nonsens

her own, since all that Daddy said and did was simply splendid. Whereupon the oth

it, but she's always s

her feelings should be ruffled; 'you shall never want a dinner, lovey; and whe

ly confused and puzzled. She was puzzled now. Her c

dly as anybody in the roar that followed this sally. Obviously, she had said a clever and amusing thing, though it was not clear to her why

in my book, please.' For she kept a book in which his efforts were neatly inscribed in a round copy-book handwriting, and called by Monkey 'The

little illustration in the margin. 'Oh, I say!' said Jimbo, watching him, while Monkey, lapsing i

entred upon the contents of the book. They eagerly turned the pages, as though they did not know its

hopes u

them on

ts conscience

t upon

drawings and descriptions of the Muddle Man whose man

gs with his

his glance

sharpness of speech and behaviour did not amuse them. They observed as usual

was his s

snipped of

words, they h

a leg o

imself with

he went t

shocking

with pierci

ct, that he was persuaded to disappear altogether; and his manner of extinguishing himself in

ved he was

id it was

ounced it '

ppeared f

drawing of that leap never failed to produce high spirits. For her calm and steady way of walking-sailing-had earn

Her snoring, a wheezy noise that made Jimbo wonder 'why it didn't scrape her,' was as familiar as the ticking of the clock. Old Mere Riquette knew her rights. And she exacted them. Jinny's lap was one of these. She had a face like an old peasant woman, with a curious snub nose and irregular whiskers that betrayed recklessly the ad

atmosphere. Would nothi

uspiciously that she slept, and Riquette, who most certainly did sleep. Above the rampart of the darkened Alps swung up the army of the stars. The brighter ones were refle

of key. Enchantment was abroad -the S

t come into the mind of a little boy? The phrase opened a new channel in the very depths of him, thence climbing up and outwards, towards the brain.... And, with a thrill of curious high wonder, he let it come. It was large and very splendid. It came with a rush-as of numerous whispering vo