A STORY OF
THAT COUNTRY

BY
ALFRED OLLIVANT

AUTHOR OF "BOB, SON OF BATTLE," ETC.

ILLUMINATED BY GRAHAM ROBERTSON

New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: JOHN MURRAY 1907

All rights reserved

COPYRIGHT, 1907, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1907.

Norwood Press J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

REDCOAT CAPTAIN

1

So, after waiting faithfully for days and days and days, they agreed they could wait no longer.

He was a Redcoat Captain in the Army of That Country: she was the daughter of the merry lady who lived among rooks.

His had jolly little curls all over, with blue eyes under: hers was chestnut, with grey eyes like clouds in a lake.

She was between ten and twenty: he was a little more.

He was so tall that the Fellows called him Tiny: her name was Mabel, so they called her Baby.

2

So Tiny came to the Fort on the Hill where the sun used to set; and it was noon.

And the Fort was a round wall with a barrack-square inside. And through a hole in the wall a great cannon of artillery peeped out over the country to keep Them down: for They were always supposed to be there, though nobody had ever seen Them.

Then Tiny climbed in through the cannon-hole, and on to the barrack-square, where nobody was now only the back-view of Goliath, the elephant, whisking his tail in the stable, while the Boy, who saw to him, slept among his feet.

So Tiny walked across the square in the sun till he came to a door in the dark of the wall. And on the door was painted in white letters

O G R E

which the Fellows said meant,

Old General Roast End,

but it really meant,

Officers' Grub Royal Elephants,

which was the name of the Regiment.

And the Regiment was so named by order of the King because that pleased old Goly, so that he trampled less at night, when the Fellows wanted to sleep.

Then Tiny knocked at the door and went in.

And the room had crossed sugar-sticks on the wall, and a row of bottles full of little black and white marbly balls on the mantel-piece, and over them a great motto,

Every Bull's Eye has its billet.

And in one corner was a pile of painted india-rubber cannon-balls. And there was a huge fire roaring, though it was summer. And before the fire stood the General, with his hands behind him, sucking something and warming himself.

Then Tiny shut the door, and began,

"I am Tiny; and I am going to marry Baby. How long will I stop in this hole, because about taking a house to put Baby in?"

So the General bent towards his boots; and his head shone; and his boots shone; and he bulged over the fire; and he said,

"I am Sir Goodall Grouse, and a Major-General. I had ought to be a full General if I had me rights—only they cheat so."

Then he bowed himself straight; and he was very red and tight; and he shot his neck till the veins swelled, and he shouted,

"And I don't care who knows it."

So Tiny, who knew Generals, pretended sad, and shook his head, and answered,

"When we go out to war, Sir, we always say that if only Sir Goodall came and did it, it wouldn't be a war at all, to call one, it would be a walk-over."

And when the General heard that, he sat down and said,

"You are a very promisin young officer indeed!" And he made a bump in his cheek with his tongue, and wrote upon the blotting-paper for ten minutes most industriously,

Captain Tiny to be reccomended for promotion:

Then he turned to Tiny and rubbed his hands and said,

"And now what will you allow me for to do for you?" And the clerk was so astonished that he poked in to see.

So Tiny told for the second time.

Then the General rolled the quid of toffee in his cheek very wisely, and he wrinkled, and said,

"Well. You will probly stop here for all time, and certainly for years and years. And you may take that on the word of Sir Goodall Grouse, who never told a lie, cause he couldn't think of one to tell." And he blew out his chest so a button flew, and shouted, "And what's more, I should ought to be a full General if I had me rights—and I don't care who knows it!" And he thumped the blotting-paper till it shook.

Then Tiny winked to himself and said inside,

"Hang your rights, Old Roast End!" but outside he said,

"Thank you, Sir. Now I feel a lot better."

And he saluted and went out, meek as a mouse; but directly he got outside he took to his legs and raced across the square, shouting and singing because of Baby and the house where he would keep her for years and years while he trained her how to be a soldier's wife.

And about next day Sir Goodall retired, because he said the Service didn't leave him time enough to roast himself.

And that is about all about Sir Goodall for now.

3

Then Tiny came upon his toes very merry to the place where the Fellows fed between sleeps.

And it was a great sort of shed under a thatch, with walls of whitewash sploshed with blood to encourage them on.

And when Tiny got there they were all feeding and complaining about A B C and D, which you have to pass for promotion in That Army.

For it appeared that the Commander-in-Chief at the Castle had just sent over word by Cooey, the carrier-pigeon, to say that they must all learn down to E now, or leave That Country.

And he said it was because that was what they did in Willie-Land; but they said it was because of spite.

For it was well known that the Commander-in-Chief's great ambition was a ride on Goliath. And the night before he had come and tried to climb on by stealth while Goly slept. But old Goly woke up in the middle and trod on his toe instead.

So the Commander-in-Chief had limped back to the Castle with his hump up. And because he had a curiously nasty nature, and bore malice a lot, he now sent word by Cooey to say that they must choose between E and exile.

And it is usually considered the greatest misery that can happen to you to be sent out of That Country.

For That Country is the Land-where-you-never-grow-old—so long, that is, as you are good and loving.

Indeed, if you live truly, you grow younger all the time, although your hair turns grey just the same as in Abroad. And when you are so young and so happy that you can bear it no more, then you die.

But directly you begin to go bad, you grow old. And then the right place for you is Abroad, where all the common people live, and grow horrider and horrider every day, and never die.

So naturally everybody born in That Country wants to live there all the time, except when they have to go away to Moonland for one month after marriage: for that is one of the rules.

But if you are not good and loving, then they turn you out, when they find out about you, which they very often don't for a long time, because they are so sweet and simple. And you are supposed to hate nobody in That Country; but if you do, then you try to sort of cuckoo him out by working under him with your wings.

And that was what the Commander-in-Chief, sitting in the Castle-tower, with his toe in a bandage, plotted in his own secret mind to do to the Regiment, because of Goliath.

For the Commander-in-Chief was a real villain, and already growing old.

4

So all the Fellows were sitting round feeding, and abusing the Commander-in-Chief.

But the Junior Subaltern, who was rosy and plump, was saying nothing: for he wasn't allowed an opinion.

So he was eating most instead—as usual.

Then Tiny sat down apart, and ate jam out of a spoon, and smiled.

But the Junior Subaltern peeped from behind a pink fairy-book, which he read with one hand, while he ate with the other, and when he saw Tiny's smile, he said a bit bitterly,

"I know. It's because it's strawberry. They keep me on plum."

But the one next him, who was long and yellow, held his cup with both hands, and bubbled into it as he drank, and said,

"No. It's because he thought old Roast End was going to tell him off a treat. But Tiny tickled him, so he told off the other fellow who hadn't done it. I wish I could tickle like Tiny. It all seems so damb unfair," and he began to cry.

But the one next him, who was big and brown, said nothing outside, but inside he said,

"No. It's because of Baby." And he knew, for he was to be best man, and give Tiny away when the time came.

Then a Captain without medals rose. And he was black but uncomely. And he bowed up and down to the Mountain and said,

"I am going to Where-George-is."

But when the Junior Subaltern heard that, he peeped out again, and cried,

"Is that because of the Commander-in-Chief and E? You are a lucky dog. I would too if I could afford it."

Then the black Captain looked at the Junior Subaltern; and there was a great hush. And at last the black Captain shot his neck suddenly, and spouted,

"Might I be so good as to ask you not to speak till you're spoken to?"

And all the Fellows said in a sort of chorus,

"Might I be so good, etc.?"

But the Junior Subaltern went back behind the fairy-book and ate a lot more, and muttered. And when he had quite done both, he rose and went to where the Boy was sliding down Goliath by the tail and told him off a treat.

6

So Cooey sped with the writing to where Baby was.

And Baby lived with her mother in the Hall under elms.

And she was in the garden in gauntlets messing, when Cooey fluttered down about her head.

And when Baby heard him, she stood up, and held out her wrist, calling,

"Something for me, Cooey?" And she pulled off her gauntlets, and took the writing from under Cooey's wing, as he perched, and read it, while Cooey sidled and fluttered, till he came to her shoulder. And there he laid his bill against her cheek, and began to love her, very murmury.

But Baby, when she had read the writing, skipped, and cried,

"Three cheers!" and ran in to her mother, who sat with her back turned in a room with great windows and a shiny floor, and wrote round, chuckling.

Then Baby poked in and cried,

"Good-bye, mum. I am going to see Cosy Cottage that Tiny has taken to keep me in. And we will be alone by ourselves together, Tiny and me, till nightfall. Then p'r'aps I come home."

But when Baby's mother, who was round and jolly, heard that, she went thin all over, and she turned round from her writing, and cried,

"Oh, Baby, please!"

So they sat down and argued.

And Baby, who always wanted to know, said,

"Why?"

Then Baby's mother answered with her foot down,

"Because of mustn't be alone by yourselves together yet, you and Tiny!"

But Baby, who would argue, only said, very dogged,

"Why?"

So Baby's mother said twelve times,

"Because of things."

Then Baby turned in her toes, and inside she said,

"Rot!" but outside she said nothing.

And when Baby's mother, who was quite pale on account of it all, saw that, she said,

"In my young days," which was a very favourite saying of Baby's mother.

But Baby only turned in her toes till her feet were almost straight sideways, for she had heard that before.

So Baby's mother, when she saw that, said nothing, and just folded her hands instead: for she knew what Baby's toes meant.

But Baby, directly she saw her mother's hands, began to unturn her toes, and she said,

"Of course just as you like, Mother."

For it is with girls like it is with horses: when you pull at them, they pull at you, hut directly you let go, they come back to you.

And that is pretty well the same with everybody. So long as you say "Shan't," they say "Shall," but when you say nothing, and just sit and look sad, then they come and kiss you. For we all know somehow though we don't quite know how, that Will is one thing and Love is another; and Will is strong, but Love is stronger; and you can often get your way by Love when you can't by Will.

Then when Baby's mother heard what Baby said, she began to go round again, and sighed,

"Oh, thank you, Baby."

So Baby unturned her toes some more, and said,

"Of course I shall like you to come with me, Mother—if it won't tire you," which was quite a lie, but not one to count.

So Baby's mother answered rather weepy,

"Very sorry, Baby. I'm sure I don't want to be a spoil-sport. Only I must consider things," and she got out her handkerchief.

Then Baby turned her toes quite out, and she rose, and ran, and cried,

"Darling old thing!" and hugged her up.

So Baby's mother began to chuckle again; and she put on her bonnet and Baby her boa; and they started down the lane together, arm in arm: for everybody lives only a few miles off in That Country: so you never go by train except to Moonland.

And it is all country in That Country, only for the Town on the Tumble-down Hill: for all the nice things happen in the country; and it is mostly all nice in this story—except the Commander-in-Chief.

7

And at the bottom of the lane there was Tiny riding backwards and forwards on the swing-gate.

But when he saw them he jumped down and ran and waved; and Baby waved and ran. Only when they came where they met, they went shy suddenly, and turned their backs instead.

Then a jackdaw on the sign-post said,

"Chuck! chuck! chuck!"

And when Baby heard that, she turned her back still more, and blushed. So Tiny who had seen out of his corner-eye, went behind his fingers, to show he knew all about manners.

Then Baby's mother plodded up with her skirts in her hands, and said,

"Very sorry, Tiny. Only I must—because of things."

But Tiny only went astonished and answered,

"Oh, but we specially wanted you—didn't we, Baby?" which was quite a lie.

So Baby cheered up, and hopped, and cried,

"Course we did."

Then Baby's mother said,

"Oh, you are dears about it."

So they just loved her, because she was such a jolly good old mother.

And after that they all took arms, and walked across the Common with the oldest donkey in the world, nodding off to sleep under a thorn, almost as old.

And when Baby saw the donkey she ran, and patted him, and called to Tiny,

"Has he got a name?"

So Tiny answered,

"Yes; Methuselah."

Then Baby skipped back, crying,

"Is that your name?"

Then Tiny, after a bit of a struggle, for he did want to lie and get the glory, told the truth rather grumpily, and said,

"No—the Colonel's."

For the Colonel is allowed to do all the christening in that Regiment: for that is one of the rules. And Goliath, the elephant, was one of his; and so was little Marwy, the regimental baa-lamb.

Then Tiny, and Baby, and Baby's mother came to the Village.

And the Village was made up of Cosy Cottage, and the red pillar-box opposite; and that is all: for the villages are just a nice size in That Country.

And Cosy Cottage looked delicious under creepers, with sparrows chattering. And it was long, and low, and grey, and not unlike Methuselah, with a rather broken-back look, and one crooked chimney for ear. And there was one window behind and two before, with a porch between, and roses sprawling over all.

11

Tiny came to the Station, Baby on arm.

And there the train was waiting with a white rosette on the puff part.

And they got in, and Tiny leaned out, and shook hands confidentially with the nice old guard, who locked the door in return, though there was nobody else to go, only a milk-can.

For it is a private train that goes once a day loaded with honeymoon couples only, by order of the King, who is very good and kind, although he has to be so strict.

Then Tiny said to the driver,

"Moonland, please!" and came in, and shut all the windows without asking Baby's leave, and turned up his collar, and sat down in the cosiest corner, and after a good big yawn went to sleep: for that is what you do if you are a man even in That Country.

But Baby played with the window-strap in the corner furthest away, and smiled.

And after that the train went till it could go no further, because of no more land to go on.

Then Tiny woke up in a great fuss: for Tiny was always either asleep or in a terrible state; and he poked out and cried,

"Good! here we are. Come along, I say! Come along. Do come along, Ma-bel." And he climbed down with the bag full of luggage, and Baby after him with her cage of canary.

And they stood together on the platform, and looked about them.

And it was about morning by now, and the sky was a sort of grey blank, and the platform quite bare only for a great label across it that said in huge letters,

MOONLAND

And Moonland is a great space with nothing in it only a green hill, a brown moor, and in the middle a blue lake supposed to have a fish in it.

And on the edge of the lake is a stodgy house made of mud and dirt, whitewashed over, where they let lodgings; only nobody takes them.

And when Baby saw that, she stood on one leg, and whistled,

"I say! do look," because she loved it so.

But Tiny, who only really cared about his food, answered,

"Yes, yes, my dear, I know, I know," and fussed off with the bag, and climbed on to the box of the cab, because, he said, he was such friends with the cabman, and began to whip up the horse, and tug at the reins, shouting,

"Gee-woa! Gee-woa!" for it was one of Tiny's things that he thought he was very good at a horse.

But the cabman, who was rusty and crusty in an old top-hat, said,

"Leggo, will ye?" and went into Tiny's wind with his elbow to quiet him.

So they drove across the moor, over the hill, down to the lake, till they came to the house.

And in the window hung a cardboard saying,

Lessons, Singing, and Boxing taught here: for it is a school as well as a lodging; only no pupils come.

And in the porch the landlady was sitting in curls, playing with her thumbs rather dumpily.

But when Tiny bustled down with the bag, yelling,

"Lodgin' fer two, quick, please!" she cheered up, and ran round, and cooked a little cake, and gave it them; only they couldn't eat it, because of too tough.

So they turned their backs, and had sandwiches out of the bag instead; which was rather depressing for the landlady after all her trouble.

12

And after that Tiny and Baby were alone by themselves together, because they might be now; which is called honeymoon.

18

So Tiny and Baby came back to That Country, and staid with the mothers, one hour with each mother: for that is one of the rules.

And when they were gone, each mother sat down all day in the table in the window in the sun, and wrote round: four sheets to everybody, four hundred sheets in all.

And Baby's mother chuckled, because she was so happy; and she thumped her envelope with her fist: but Tiny's mother cried, because she loved that best; and she smoothed hers with the flat of her hand.

19

Then Tiny went down the Tumbledown Hill to the Town, Baby on arm.

And the Town is an old ancient street with the Church on one side, and the Inn on the other, and the Policeman between; and that is all: for it is only a country town, although the capital of That Country.

And at the back of the Inn is the market with pens inside a wall.

And there the people come every Thursday to sell their things.

And when Tiny and Baby got there it was market-day.

So all the people were trying to sell their things to each other.

Only everybody wanted to sell, and nobody to buy; which is often the way.

So that made it rather difficult all round.

But when Tiny and Baby came in they stopped arguing, and began to stare instead.

20

And the Queen was there trying to sell a white moo-calf, because she said she wanted the money to buy her a bonnet.

23

Next morning Baby woke up very happy, because she was at home.

And she lay and listened to the day getting up, which was rather a favourite thing of Baby's.

And first the Policeman tramped by in boots.

Then a cock at the farm crew a lot to say it was dawn, when it wasn't.

And after that just as the dark began to grow dim, a thrush in the lilac under the window cleared its throat, and began to shout,

"I'm first! I'm first! I'm first!"

And that woke a robin in the yew-hedge which piped,

"Cheek! Cheek! Cheek!" and began to laugh in its little way.

Then a rook sailed out to work, groaning,

"Aw! aw! aw!" which is rook for "Oh! oh! oh!" which is short for "Oh dear! oh dear! oh dear!" for the rook hates work and loves grumbling.

And after that the sparrows began. And as soon as the sparrows began, the others left off: for they knew it was no good to go on against the sparrows; for the sparrows go on for ever.

Then Baby got up, and went to the window.

And the sun was just up and staring white through the black of the trees: for it was about Christmas by now.

And the sky shone like a sword. And great white ice-bergs with shining tops sailed by behind the Mountain on the border of That Country. And old Methuselah, his ears hoary with frost, was trying for some more sleep under the thorn.

And on the eave above the window a starling, all purple and green and gold in the sun, was dressing. And as he dressed he was making all the noises no other bird can make. For the starling is like a lot more, he never knows quite what he's going to say himself till he's said it, only he knows it's never been said before, and never will be again.

Then the sun rose over the wall of the back-yard, and struck the top of the boot-hole. And at once mannikin inside began to sing very merrily,

"I hop in the boot-hole,
    As happy can be,
As bold as a robin,
    As brisk as the sea,
I chirp like a cricket,
    I buzz as a bee
A-swing in the fox-glove,
    A-blow on the lea."

And when Baby heard that she ran and shook Tiny, who was lying in bed with one eye out, and the blanket tight round, and she cried.

"Get up, Lazy-bones! get up! get up!—Everybody's up and busy and merry long ago only you."

And she began to dance about with her hair down, singing,

"O, I say!—Shan't we just be happy here? happy here? happy here?"

But Tiny only groaned, and got up, one leg at a time.

And the first thing he did was to go to the window, and spy out at the Castle round the corner, with the frost on the roof.

And the first thing he saw was the Commander-in-Chief stealing out of the back-door in his bedroom slippers.

28

Then Tiny climbed up the Hill to the Fort.

And there the Fellows were taking down the wire netting, which they always put round the wall at dark, in case They should come on by night: for They were like a lot more, They were always supposed to be going to do a heap of things They never did.

Then Tiny shook hands with the brown Captain, and kicked the yellow one, and crawled through the wall by the cannon-hole, and out on to the barrack-square.

And the barrack-square was a sort of blank desert with cubicles all round; and the Junior Subaltern was making up the beds inside, which was always his little job: for the Junior Subaltern has to do all the things that nobody else will do in that Regiment.

But directly he saw Tiny, he shut up work, and came across the square, very silly and sheepish.

And the Junior Subaltern walked with his toes rather turned in. And his knickers were patched, and his stockings darned: for his mother was a very careful woman. And his collar had slipped up the back of his neck, so that there was a great gap: for his back-button was off, as usual, although they always put him under arrest for it whenever they remembered. But what the Junior Subaltern always said was,

"It's mother—not me."

Then when he got quite close to Tiny, he looked at his toes, and said in a very little whisper,

"Truly sorry, Tiny."

Then Tiny frowned and answered,

"I should just think you were. Certainly you ought to be. And now tell me, what is it you are sorry for?"

So the Junior Subaltern twiddled his toes over each other, and answered very low,

"For you know."

Then Tiny said very sternly,

"Yes, I know—only I've forgotten."

So the Junior Subaltern whispered,

"At your wedding."

Then Tiny remembered about the drop of lime-juice off a feather in the porch. And he wagged his head very sorrowfully and said,

"O dear! O dear! O dear!" And he walked up and down for a long long time, with his hands behind him, and his chin on his chest, groaning, and so on etc.

Then at last he stopped, and rolled one eye at the Junior Subaltern, and said,

"I forgive you on condition I may lecture you for as long as I like. D'you agree?"

So the Junior Subaltern answered,

"I should like to think it over first, please," for he knew what a lecture from Tiny meant.

So he turned his back, and dug at a weed with his toe, while he thought it over.

Then after about a bit he muttered pretty tearfully,

"Well, I agree, because there's no other way. Only goodness sake get it over quick."

Then Tiny took him tight by the arm, and walked him up and down, and up and down, and gave him the longest lecture that ever was all about nothing, and simplee loved it.

And the Junior Subaltern blew his nose upside down without a handkerchief, which you do when you want the tears to go inside and not out, and said every quarter of an hour,

"I say! isn't that bout enough?"

But Tiny only answered,

"No, thank-you," and went on.

So the Junior Subaltern said rather sulkily,

"Well, it's a good long go anyway."

Then when Tiny really could not think of any more, he made the Junior Subaltern learn by heart the Sorry Song he and Baby had written in Moonland; and after that he made him stand on the Fort-wall and sing it; which he did—not very nicely.

And when that was finished, Tiny said,

"That'll do for the present, thank-you."

So the Junior Subaltern scrambled off the wall, saying to himself out loud,

"Jolly good job too," and ran off to find the Boy.

29

So Tiny came to the whitewash shed, where the Fellows were now, eating more and complaining louder than ever.

Then when Tiny had counted them, he said,

"But where's the Colonel?"

So the brown Captain answered,

"In bed—bad with shock."

And all the Fellows said in a sort of a chorus,

"Bed—bad with shock."

And some said it was one thing; and some said it was another; and a good lot said it was neither. But they all agreed that Cooey had come from the Castle in the dawn with a writing, and had fluttered up to the Colonel, who was helping the Boy soap Goliath; and that after reading the writing the Colonel had taken to his bed without a word.

Then Tiny, who loved the Colonel, because he was so red and round and thought nice of everybody, ran up the ladder to the loft: for the Colonel always lives above the shed in that Army to be handy.

And when Tiny had undone the trap-door, and peeped through, there lay the dear old Colonel in bed in the dark corner under the cobweb, quite quite bald.

And his knees were cocked up, and his arms round them, and his little nose laid on his knees skew-wise.

And he was saying to himself in a weak voice,

"I am the Colonel. I love evewybody, and evewybody loves me. And evewything's always as nice as nice can be in our dear Countwy. Only I've had a bit of a shock—that's all."

Then Tiny climbed out on to the floor, and came towards the corner on his toes.

And when the Colonel saw him coming, he let his knees down, and went back on the pillow, and said rather faintly,

"Ah, my dear dear boy!—how are you?—how's Baby?" for next to animals, the Colonel loved Baby best in all the world.

Then Tiny shook hands and said,

"I'm awfully sorry to hear of this, Sir." And he pulled a truss of straw up to the bed and sat on it, and said very gently,

"Would you care for me to tell you about me and Baby and Moonland, Sir?—and the landlady, and the lake, and the fish there was supposed to be there, and that?"

For Tiny began to understand a little about illness now: for Baby taught him. Only he thought he understood a lot more than he did, which was rather a favourite thing of Tiny's.

But the Colonel shut his eyes, and said, "Thank-you, my dear boy, thank-you. Some day I want to hear all about it—not just now though. Twuth is I've had wather a shock. So've you, my poor boy. So've we all. Only p'w'aps it's worse for you and my little Marwy than for the others."

And he opened his eyes a bit, and said, "Have you got into Cosy Cottage yet, you and Baby?"

So Tiny cheered up and answered, "Yes, Sir. We settled in last night, as jolly as can be. Baby sings all the time she's so happy."

Then the Colonel nodded to and fro, murmuring,

"Ah, my poor boy! my poor Baby!—bad, bad, bad."

Then he wiped his eyes, and picked up a blue writing that was lying on the bed, and handed it Tiny, saying,

"It's all in there, my poor boy—all in there. Wead it yourself. I wouldn't have it otherwise for the world. Still it's wather a shock—that's all: especially for you and my little Marwy."

Then Tiny took the writing to the dusty sunbeam that lit the loft through a crack in the thatch.

And the writing was in a great blob hand that Tiny knew well; and it went,

Move to-day, u and the Redgement, and any more u like, to another Fort if u can find one. Why? Because I order you—I am

The Right Honorary St Jack-Assquire,
Own blud brudder to George,
Commander-in-Chief at the Castle now,
And hope to be Royal King one day.

P.S.—I send u a midjut of me in my khaki with what Willie give me on my right turn. I send it u free, because to show I've got no grudge against u.... Shew it round. It shud encurudge recruutin. Send me some reports on this soon as u know.

Then as Tiny read it through for the second time, the Colonel said from the bed,

"Wather wude—ain't it'?" And he sniffed a bit. "But there! dear old St Jacky! I can't help loving the chap—he is so very stwaight."

All the same his mouth began to go, and he went on rather gaspy,

"I don't mind for myself. It's my little Marwy. Her mother's buried here. I think it will bweak her h-h-heart." And one tear went. "And it means a move for you too, poor fellow. Cosy Cottage goes with the Fort, you know."

And he dabbed and went on,

"I wonder what it all means."

Then Tiny, who was rather white, answered,

"It means spite, Sir," and he told the Colonel about the Commander-in-Chief's great ambition, and his attempt on Goliath by night, and his toe, and so on etc.: for they had not told the Colonel before, because they always kept from him anything that would give him pain.

And when he heard that, he said,

"I'm disappointed in St Jack—vewy disappointed. I thought he was a gweat man," for he always took everybody at their own opinion of themselves, which was very sweet and simple of him.

But Tiny tore the writing into little bits, and put them on the fire; so that it was like hell for the bits.

And he said to himself out loud,

"Debbel-debbel-damb-damb," which he knew quite well he shouldn't.

Then he ran across the floor pitter-pat; and down the ladder to the bottom, bump; and across the square patter-pit; screaming,

"I don't care! I will say!—Debbel-debbel-damb-damb."

30

So Tiny ran out of the Fort to tell Baby they must move out of Cosy Cottage at once, quickly this minute.

And a little woolly white dog came out after him in a great state, and stood on four legs, and barked till it shook.

But Tiny only ran on like lead.

So the little woolly white dog pretended he'd driven him off, and walked across the road and back very stiff on his toes, to try to take the cat in. But the cat just sat on the wall, and blinked instead.

Then Tiny pounded down the hill with his heart in his heels.

And the hedges on either side looked like crawly purple caterpillars with grey-green leper splotches where the privet grew; and a plump little wren flitted in and out before him as he ran, mocking; while the Pond on the Common beneath winked each time the wind blew, like a leering great eye.

And Tiny loathed them all.

So he ran across the little Bridge, and round the Wood, where the beeches flushed among the grey of the ashes, and across the Common among the gorse, till he came to Cosy Cottage.

And the sun shone on it; and the sparrows chirped in the creepers; and mannikin sang in the boot-hole at the back; and Phyllis was at the door polishing the knocker; and even the Others were leaning out of upstairs, pretending with dusters, while they tried to carry on with the King, who was cleaning the Castle-window round the corner; while the Queen scowled from the wash-tub.

And when Tiny saw all that, and remembered Baby singing so happy that morning, his heart stopped dead. And he stood with his hand on the gate, and just looked.

Then the door burst open, and out rushed Baby in an apron, with a scream and a scurry, yelling,

"O, Tiny! what do you think?"

But Tiny only answered quite dull and dead,

"What?"

So Baby cried,

"The Commander-in-Chief's been to call!—And hee came disguised as a parson—only he forgot about his cocked hat, which he was wearing. So of course I found him out, and roared. And when he saw he was discovered, he looked rather silly at first. Then he cheered up, and said it was all a joke done to amuse me. And really he was so sweet and smiling—you can't think. He bowed up and down in the door, and said he'd come to ask if I was happy in my little home, for that was all he cared about; and there were quite tears in his eyes. And when I said I should just think I was, he seemed delighted—honestly. Wasn't that nice of him?"

35

So they moved into the white house.

And it was in a garden with a grass-walk.

And there was a lawn under an elm with rooks, and a drive.

And at the bottom of the drive was a cottage among currant-bushes. And there a little old woman lived behind a lattice and crooned all day,

"Little Old
            Lollypop
Lived in a
            Stuffy Shop,
Watching the
            Crickets Hop-pop,
                            Hop-pop."

So Baby loved it all better even than Cosy Cottage.

And when, she and Phyllis had arranged the things round the wall, she sat down and wrote to the Commander-in-Chief,

DEAR JACKY,—Will you come and have tea with me? Your loving,—BABY,

to show she forgave him quite and quite.

But St Jack wrote back, very short and simple,

No. I wun't,

to show he wouldn't be forgiven: for he was a very straight little fellow when it suited him.

And St Jack wouldn't go, for he knew very well that if he did he would repent, because of Baby; and he preferred bad.

And besides he was kept on duty all day at the Castle just now, handing tea-cakes to the visitors, which he was rather good at; for St Jack's manners, when he liked, were very remarkable.

So That Country had peace and quiet for some time: for the visitors settled to stay at the Castle perhaps for ever, because of the tea-cakes.

36

Then St Valentine's Day came with the crocuses.

And on that day all the birds are married in That Country.

And after that the blackbirds join with the thrushes, and sing in the bare trees very rich and jolly: for the blackbirds mayn't sing till they're married, because that is one of the rules; but when they do begin they sing more songs and sing them better than the thrushes, which shout and whistle more.

And when the blackbirds begin the robins rather leave off: for the robins are like a lot more, they want to have it all to themselves all the time; only they just can't.

So they sulk instead.

Then Spring came, and jolly began. And Baby always said she liked Spring best, because of as before.

And the sky became a song, and the earth a garden. And the robins went into the woods; and the swallows came out of the ponds; and the larks ran up the sky; and everybody was glad.

And the sap rose everywhere, and rather got into mannikin's head; and he became so dreadfully excited that at last Baby took Tiny down to see him, because she was afraid his poor little brain was going.

So they came to the hole, and looked in.

And there was mannikin standing on the knife-board, and plugging the blacking-bottles on to the bricks.

And when Tiny said

"Why?"

Mannikin sucked his thumb and answered,

"Becob I like to see the ink splosh so."

Then Tiny, who loved lecturing better than anything else in the world, took the blacking-bottles away from him, and told him he was only making it worse for himself, and the badder he behaved the longer he'd be there, and how the King was very strict, although he was so good and kind.

But Mannikin didn't seem to mind, and strutted up and down the boot-hole, with his hands in his pockets, singing,

"I'm the cock of the boot-hole!
I'm the cock of the boot-hole!
                See me!
                See me!
I'm the cock of the boot-hole!"

37

And after that May and June came.

And there were tad-poles in the ponds, and lilacs with purple plumes, and chestnuts with white ones, and cuckoos calling and little flop-birds that tried to fly, and tumbled on the lawn instead. And everything was jolly all around.

And Tiny played cricket in the Fort in the Hole, while Baby sat on the wall with the Fellows, and watched him, and afterwards wrote round,

Tiny played four balls, and hit one. The next bowled him, and the Junior Subaltern umpired him out. So that wasn't so bad—for us, was it!

And every day when the Regiment went out to War, after the first pellet, the Colonel fell out, because he said he'd be a casualty now, and let the other Fellows have a go, which Tiny always took to mean him.

And the Colonel ran away bent up double behind the wild cherry-hedge till he came where Baby was waiting him under the laburnum at the little gate into her garden.

And when she had let him in, they ran hand in hand to the elm, where there was a great bowl of milk and a cabbage-leaf of strawberries ready.

Then the dear old Colonel took off his shako, and was quite quite bald. And he sat on a little stool among the elm-roots, and drank the milk, and ate the strawberries, while Baby leaned up against the elm with her feet straight before her, and read him a story of a naughty pussy-kitten out of a great picture-book.

And that pleased the Colonel so that he lifted himself on his hands and swung to and fro, chuckling.

And after that Baby had a grey kitten of her own, which the Colonel gave her; and she played with it all the time.

And every day she took the kitten on her shoulder, and went down the drive under the trees in the dappled sunshine to meet Tiny when he came home from the Fort, which he usually did about an hour after he'd started for it. For work tired Tiny very easily so that he had to be careful not to overdo it.

And Baby and Tiny walked home arm in arm, when they thought nobody was looking, though everybody was, especially mannikin behind the bars of the boot-hole at one end of the drive, and little old Lollypop through the lattice at the other end.

And Baby hugged Tiny's arm, and Tiny hugged Baby's. And Tiny looked down, and Baby looked up.

And Baby said,

"Now me!" and hopped.

And Tiny said,

"Now me!" and skipped.

Then both said,

"Now bofe!" and jumped.

And Baby smiled, and Tiny grinned, and neither spoke. And sometimes tears came because of nobody knew why, and sometimes roars because of so jolly. And half the time they were so wise you wouldn't believe, and half the time so silly you can't think, and whole the time so happy I couldn't tell you.

38

But with Summer coming, the Commander-in-Chief began to stir again.

For the Queen at the Castle came with her hands on her hips and said she could do no more tea-cakes just now, and they must ave mustard and cress instead.

43

Then about next day the good old doctor rode over from the Castle very mysteriously, and asked to see Baby.

And when he had shut the door, and drawn his chair up very close, he told her in a whisper there was a Surprise-present coming for her from the King at the Castle; only she wasn't to tell any one, because it was a secret.

Then Baby opened her eyes, and whispered,

"Mayn't I know?"

But the good old doctor chuckled,

"Certainly not, my dear. You may guess—if you can," and he got up to go.

Then Baby got up too, and asked,

"When may I know?"

So the doctor answered,

"About to-morrow," and went out, chuckling.

But Baby stayed behind in the window, and guessed and guessed.

Then all of a sudden her heart leaped up; and she blushed and trembled so that she had to sit down.

44

So all the rest of the day she sat under the elm, very busy, making secret little clothes, that nobody was supposed to know anything about.

But of course mannikin must leave his daisies, and come and poke and pry and bother with questions, until at last Baby got up and took him by his little hand, and led him back to his hole, saying,

"You're a very naughty little man indeed. And I'm very cross with you—very cross."

But mannikin only swaggered along at her side, nodding his head very wisely, and saying,

"I know—I know," which was a very favourite saying of mannikin's.

But Baby answered very short,

"I'm sure you don't," and locked him in good and tight for the rest of the day.

And that evening when Tiny came back from the Fort, Baby hid the little clothes away, and walked about on his arm, talking poetry-talk in the twilight among the roses; and she didn't say one word about the secret.

But Tiny saw there was something up all the same. And when he went to tidy up the boot-hole for the night, mannikin came to him in tears, and begged him to get Baby to forgive him, and to say he promised not to mention one word about the little clothes.

And when Tiny heard about the little clothes, he thought,

"Now I know!" and went pale all over with excitement.

For at that time every year, the good King sends a Surprise-present to the best married girl of That Country: for that is one of the rules.

And the Surprise-present is always the same, and so jolly you can't think.

So every nice married girl wants to win it; only you can't unless you have been truly good and loving.

And Tiny knew Baby was best by far; and he believed the King knew it too.

For as he was leaving the Fort that afternoon, he had seen the King whispering in the Colonel's ear behind the water-butt.

And when the Colonel heard, he hopped up high, crying,

"Dear old Baby!"

And the Colonel was Baby's great friend.

45

But Tiny didn't say one word to Baby all the same, but just gave her mannikin's message instead.

Then Baby cried,

"O poor little chap!—I clean forgot him," and she ran to the boot-hole.

And when she got there she heard a tiny little noise inside.

So she undid and peeped.

And there was mannikin sobbing in a heap in the corner.

Then Baby cried,

"Why?"

But mannikin only sobbed,

"Becob you're cross."

So Baby ran to him, and said,

"Dear little mannikin!—It's nothing—only you mustn't bother with questions just now about things you can't understand."

And she sat down, and took him on her lap, and comforted him.

And mannikin leaned his head on her shoulder, and said, very sniffy,

"Lub me," for he was a sentimental little thing.

And he told Baby about his home in a cottage in the Forest far away, where he used to live with his old mother, and little lame sister, and the tortoise-shell cat, till the King came and took him.

And when he told about that, he began to cry again.

Then Baby jigged him a bit, and said,

"Now I'll tell you a secret the Queen told me last time she came round with the butter.—The King is going to let you out soon now, because at all events you try to be good. There!"

And when mannikin heard that, he sniffed and said,

"Gobblessim."

And after that Baby tied an empty reel to a thread, and gave it him.

And he quite cheered up, and bobbed the reel, and twinkled his eyes, and said he a little fisherman, trying to catch a Surprise-present for being so truly good and loving.

46

Next morning, as Tiny entered the Fort, all the Fellows came rushing out from the shed, shouting,

"Well done, Baby!—Good luck to you both!" for it usually leaks out who has won the Surprise-present for the year, before it is stuck up on the Castle-door.

Then Tiny stopped and said,

"But you don't know."

So all the Fellows crowded round, and they answered,

"No, we don't know. But the Queen got talking to the Junior Subaltern when he went to the Castle for his glass of milk this morning. So we next door to know."

Just then the dear old Colonel came up with Moses on his shoulder, and little Marwy, who had quite recovered from her broken heart, trotting behind.

And he stopped and patted Tiny on the back, saying,

"Ah, my dear boy!—I believe I have to congratulate you."

Then Tiny blushed and answered,

"Well, Sir, we've heard nothing from the King as yet. Still—we hope."

So the Colonel nodded very wisely and said,

"Well, we shall see what we shall see."

And he passed on to Sunday-school: for the Colonel always attended himself, and tried to get the Fellows to come too; only they always had sore throats or something, and couldn't.

Then Tiny ran home, quite sure now.

47

And when he got there he found a white paper pinned on to the door, saying,

I have gone to my room to wait. Don't come.

So Tiny waited down below all day.

But towards evening, he crept up, and peeped.

And there was Baby waiting by the window, nursing her pussy-kitten.

And as she nursed, she sang,

    "Hushaby,
    Hushaby,
Here at twilight,
Waiting, I,
Sweet-contented,
Know not why—
    Hushaby,
    Hushaby."

Then Tiny put his finger to his lips, and stole away without a word.

But Baby waited at the window, looking East.

48

Then at dusk the good old doctor came from the Castle with a basket on his arm.

And the basket was full of lovely little Stars of Bethlehem, which flower about then in That Country.

And on the basket was a label written in the King's hand,

Baby
from
The King
because
She Is
so truly
Good and Loving.

Then the old doctor went up the stairs in the dusk very quietly.

And he knocked at Baby's door and entered, the little Stars of Bethlehem shining white about him, as he went.

49

Then after about a bit he came downstairs smiling, the basket empty now, only for the bulrushes that had lined it.

And he came out to where Tiny was holding his white cob, and said,

"Ha, my boy!—what d'you think I've brought for you?"

Then Tiny trembled and said,

"What, Sir?"

So the good old doctor answered,

"Go to Baby's room; and you'll see." And he climbed on to his cob, and jogged away, chuckling.

And the kitten walked after him down the drive with its tail up tight.

50

Then Tiny came to Baby's door and knocked.

But there came no answer.

So he went in.

And within all was still and twilight.

So this story ends the same as all other stories that ever were written, and that is happily.

And really there is only one Story, and it is the best Story in the world; but it is not finished yet, and never will be.

And this Story grows better and better all the time, which is how we know it from the written stories that we read.

But it is told in bits, so that unless we're sort of in the secret, we may mistake it for a lot of little stories, all separate, and all telling against each other.

Yet all the little bits fit in together at the end most perfectly; and not one word is wasted, although it seems as if there would be thousands; to say nothing of bad spellings, and erasures, and great blots of ink and tears.

And it is the same end always, and always a happy end.

For no story really ends sadly for the very good reason that it can't.

For Love is Love, and in the end end of all Love must win.

So after we have finished our bit of the Story, and our friends have read it, and scribbled on the blank space at the bottom,

THE END:
HE WAS A SINNER—

And after they have whispered about us in public, and the ladies have gone behind their handkerchieves, and said,

"We must hope for the best, and expect the worst," and the men have yawned and said,

"Ah, well—De mortuis nil nisi bonum," which means—"He was the Devil's darling from his youth up, and I always told you so."

We need not mind so very much; for it may be that we have done better than we thought; and it is certain that while the world knows nothing of our aim, of our failure it knows more than all.

Moreover let us remember to our comfort that after that dead

END,

which seems to wind us up so blankly, there is always a

BEYOND.

And the strange thing about that Beyond is that it is really no Beyond at all: it is There all the time; but we can hardly see it for the rather odd reason that we are too close.

And this Beyond that is always There is the real Story, if we only knew it.

What we read is only foot-notes at the bottom of the page to explain the real Story.

But because our eyes are so close to the page, and because the page is so very large, we often only see the foot-notes, which are most interesting of themselves.

Then sometimes we deny that the page is there, saying the foot-notes are all, which is rather foolish: for what is the good of Notes on Nothing?

And a man who buries his nose in the Notes, and tries to read the writing by smelling it, is a sinner; and he usually knows a lot about nothing.

And a man who holds his eyes close to the page, and pries into the Notes, is a scientist; and he usually knows a lot about the Notes, and nothing about the Story, which the Notes are on.

And a man who stands back a bit, and says he can read the whole thing, Notes and all, and explain it easily, is a Philosopher; and he usually knows a little about both Notes and Story.

And a man who stands still further back, and looks at the Story very quietly, and tells truly all he sees, without trying to explain it, is a Poet; and he usually knows a lot about both Notes and Story.

And this Beyond that is always There is always the same, and is always a Love-story.

And we are characters in this Love-story, and walk for ever through its pages.

But if we walk apart by ourselves, rather proud and puffed up, saying that it isn't a real Story, and that we don't belong to it, and will take no part, then we lose all the interest.

For that comes from joining in, and feeling that we are characters in the Story, and must help it along by helping the other characters.

While if we enter in, then we very soon find out that it is the best Story in the world, and that if we will, we can be little heroes, and play our part, and win in the end quite splendidly.

Then it becomes exciting.

And once we have joined in, we find oddly enough that as we grow older we grow younger, until at length we become as little children, happy all the time, our work our play, our life a Song of Innocence, not unlike the natives of That Country.