Dream-Music

WHETHER it was the cakes or the fireworks, no one ever knew. Father said that it must have been the cakes. Nurse thought it was the fireworks. The doctor, who came in a little motor-car with just room for himself inside, shook his head and looked very solemn.

George was not well and was kept in bed. The doctor sent a large bottle of medicine, and Nurse shook the bottle very hard before giving George two large tablespoonfuls. Alexander sat at the end of the bed and looked on. Perhaps he thought he ought to have some medicine too, for he was always ready to taste anything, and even a tin of boot polish didn't seem to disagree with him. There were very few things that he hadn't tasted.

The doctor came every morning for four days, and every morning his little motor puff-puffed outside the garden gate whilst he went upstairs into the bedroom where George was, and said: "Well, and how are we this morning? A little better, eh?"

But George always said that he felt a little worse, and wanted to get up and go out for a walk with Alexander. He was cross with everybody, and at last Mother thought he must be really ill.

She sat by his bed and read stories to him; sometimes he listened, and sometimes he just kicked his legs about in bed and said: "Oh, do let me get up. I hate being in bed."

"You must be good, George dear," said Mother, "or else you will never get well."

It was no good. George wouldn't even listen to Nurse now, so it was not a bit of use talking.

He wouldn't take his medicine; he wouldn't lie quiet. He did everything he ought not to do. Even Alexander looked as if he would like to cry, and never once wagged his tail. This showed how sorry he felt for himself and for everybody else.

At last George was so tired that, as it was growing dark, he fell asleep. Nurse sat by the side of his bed with a large pair of spectacles on, knitting a pair of stockings.

As fast as she knitted stockings for George he wore them out, but she didn't seem to mind. What the boys do who haven't got nurses it is difficult to say. Think of all the stockings there must be in the world with holes in their heels and toes and knees! It was quite quiet. Nurse sat as still as still could be; if her fingers hadn't been moving all the time you would have thought she was fast asleep.

It grew darker and darker, until at last the moon came out from behind a cloud and shone through the window. It was just the kind of night on which the fairies love to be dancing in the wood. Perhaps they were.

"What a splendid sleep you've had, darling," said Mother, as she kissed George next morning.

George sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. "I've had such a dream!" he began.

"Won't you tell me all about it?" asked Mother.

George thought for a long time, then shook his head. "It's all gone again," he said. "I can only just remember that I went for a long walk with Alexander, and we came to such a wonderful place. I think I met Nurse there, but she looked quite different ... and yet she was just the same."

Nurse smiled.

"Were you really there?" asked George.

"Perhaps," she replied. "Now it's time for your medicine."

By the time he had finished his medicine George had forgotten about the dream, but he kept remembering it in bits all day long.

Alexander looked delighted when George was allowed to get up and come into the garden. Perhaps he knew all about the dream, for he would often stop when he was digging up a bone, and look as if he were trying to remember something.

Dogs have splendid dreams sometimes. When they give short little barks in their sleep they must be chasing cats. But what do cats dream about?

The doctor did not look at all solemn to-day. He sat in the garden and talked to George about motor-cars and aeroplanes. But George was all the time trying to remember his dream, and told the doctor little bits of it whenever he remembered.

"Do you believe in fairies?" George asked the doctor suddenly.

"Fairies?" said the doctor. "Well, you believe in them, don't you?"

"I don't know," replied George. "I think my dream last night was about fairies, but they weren't very like the fairies in the books I read. Is there a real Fairyland?"

"Well, you see," replied the doctor, looking very solemn again, "you really ought to go there and find out."

"But how can I find out," asked George, "if I don't know whether there is a Fairyland or not? How can I find the way there?"

The doctor scratched his head. "Well, I expect Nurse or Mother will tell you all about it," he said.

"Nurse always answers, 'Perhaps there is and perhaps there isn't.' I don't believe any of you really know at all," cried George.

The doctor shook his head, looked as if he were going to say something, then smiled and said: "Perhaps!—that's just what we've all got to find out about a great many things, George. If you really want to find the way there, I expect you will. Only you must wish hard, as hard as ever you can!" and with a laugh he went down the garden path, stepped into his motor, and puff-puffed away.

"I don't believe there are any fairies," said George, with a stamp of his foot. "It's just silly nonsense, and they only say that there are fairies to tease me."

Puck was sitting on a toadstool watching the little fairies, who were having a flying race. They flew round and round and up and down, and the colours of their little wings were as beautiful as the most beautiful rainbow. Maybe the rainbow is made out of fairies' wings.

When they were tired they all fluttered down to the ground again and sat down on the grass in a ring. They love to sit like this, because most of the good games are played when one sits round in a ring. The fairies are never tired of playing games. Even their work is play to them, and so they never need to go to school.

No one ever heard of a fairy schoolmaster or schoolmistress. If there were such people, they would be playing all the time, and so they couldn't possibly be teachers.

They had forgotten all about George, for they really believed by now that there was not a boy of that name at all. When grown-up people forget about the fairies, is it because they are getting old and thinking about what they should eat and drink, and what clothes they should wear? The fairies know that grown-ups do these silly things, and don't mind, but children ought to know better. The fairies were not playing a game just then. They were listening to Puck, who was telling them a story. It is hard to guess what the story was about, for the fairies do not have fairy stories. What seems so wonderful to us is only what happens to them every day, and so whoever tells a story in Fairyland must think of something quite different.

They enjoyed the story very much, for they laughed and clapped their hands, and even the old frog forgot his cold.

"To-night! To-night!" they all cried when Puck had finished, and then they all danced round and round so fast that it would have hurt your eyes to look at them.

The moon shone more brightly than ever that night. The sky was covered with bright, twinkling stars, and a soft, warm breeze rustled through the tops of the trees in the wood.

George would have loved to go for a walk, but he was tucked up safely in bed, and Alexander was lying on the mat outside his door. Nurse had left him alone for some time, and he couldn't get to sleep. He wanted to dream again and go back to that wonderful country of which he remembered so little.

He tossed about on his pillow, wishing that he were outside in the garden or anywhere except in bed. He could hear the old clock outside on the landing, tick, tock, tick, tock, and now and again Alexander gave a little bark which showed that he was fast asleep and dreaming.

Suddenly he heard another sound. It seemed to be far off, but little by little it sounded nearer and nearer.

"It's just as if somebody were blowing little trumpets," thought George to himself. "I wonder where it can be?"

The sound of the music floated in the air, died away, and then, more sweetly than ever, echoed and echoed until it seemed as if it might indeed be fairy music.

"I must get up and see what it is," said George. "It might be soldiers, though they don't seem to have a drum."

He jumped quickly out of bed and went to the window. There was nothing to be seen, not even a shadow on the lawn.

"That's very queer," thought George. "I wonder that Alexander hasn't heard it."

After waiting for a few minutes he got back into bed, and scarcely had he laid his head on the pillow when far, far away sounded the fairy music.

"Lovely! Lovely!" murmured George. "It must come from that country I dreamed about last night."