Adventures in Toyland/II.
The next evening the little girl returned to the Noah's Ark, where she found the little Marionette in the same position.
"Well!" she said eagerly.
"I have consulted Father Christmas," answered the little Marionette. "He is of the opinion that I may, without harm, tell you tales of some of the toys. You shall therefore hear the most interesting stories I can remember."
"That will be very nice," said the little girl. "Will you begin at once?"
"At once," she agreed, and began the story of
"The Rabbit and the Mouse."
The white Rabbit and the brown Mouse were both talented, though in different ways. The Rabbit's talent showed itself in the precision and vigor with which he could beat a drum as he sat on his hind-legs; the Mouse in the swiftness and grace with which he could speed to and fro upon the counter.
Talking over the matter, they arrived at the conclusion that if they went up and down the counter together as a traveling-show they might turn a very pretty penny. The Rabbit was to display his musical talent, whilst the Mouse was to exhibit his powers of graceful movement.
The profits were to be equally divided. Such, at least, was the arrangement as understood; but it was not a written agreement, which was a great mistake.
The reason, however, that the two partners omitted to be more business-like was this: the Rabbit trusted the Mouse, and the Mouse hoped to cheat the Rabbit. Not that anything of the sort was openly expressed, but each was quite well aware of his own view of the matter.
The two started off upon the most amiable terms, stopping at such places as they thought most likely to prove profitable: in front of the dolls' houses; before the race-courses; by the shops. Then the Rabbit would announce loudly:
"I am a rare-bit from Wales, and the Mouse is a tit-bit from Ireland. We charge no fees for performing, but trust to your kind generosity."
After this the Rabbit played the drum with great energy, whilst the Mouse ran up and down in the most nimble manner.
It was probably owing to a report which got abroad, to the effect that the performers were noble strangers, working in the cause of charity, that the success of the pair was so great. It was, indeed, wonderful, and in a short time the two had gained quite a little fortune.
It was the Mouse who collected the money. For purposes of his own, he persuaded the Rabbit to let him always take upon himself this duty. And his companion, who was rather stiff in the joints after sitting perfectly still upon his hind-legs for the length of time he was obliged to, was quite willing to let the Mouse do as he wished.
Not that he would have been willing to had he known the real facts of the case. For as you will understand by what I have said, the Mouse was acting towards him in the most dishonest fashion, in spite of his many fair words and speeches.
It was in this way that he plotted against his friend: As soon as a certain sum of money had been collected, the Mouse always suggested that he should go and invest it. To this the Rabbit never made any objection, having great faith in the Mouse as an animal with a good business head.
When the little rascal returned after a long absence, he had always a fine story to tell of the cleverness with which he had laid out the money, and of the fortune which would shortly be coming in. This was perfectly untrue. The Mouse was not investing a penny. On the contrary, he was hoarding it all up, and for his own benefit.
There was a certain Horse who lived some little way off in a luxurious stable. Here the Mouse was minded to pass his last years, so soon as he had made a sufficiently large fortune, or unless chance removed him from the toy-shop. But in order to carry out his plan, he would have to pay the Horse a large sum for the right of sharehold--since it was his stall he wished to share,--and also to get the warm, cosy corner he especially desired.
The Horse himself was not the noble creature nature had intended him to be. He was to the full as greedy as the Mouse, and was indeed his helper in the plot. It was to the Horse the little swindler always ran when he pretended that he was going to invest the money, and it was in his stall that it was hidden. By the end of the half-year the Horse and the Mouse calculated that they would have sufficient money to carry out their design; when they intended to add further to their wickedness by causing the Rabbit to be killed, in order to prevent his asking any tiresome questions.
Now, as the time drew near when the money, had it been invested, should have brought in some returns, the Rabbit began to talk of what he intended doing with his share.
"I think," said he, "after I have supplied my own wants, I shall found a drum-scholarship for Musical Rabbits;" for he was a creature of a kind and generous nature, and truly devoted to the cause of art.
"A most excellent notion," said the Mouse. "I shall follow your good example, and found a scholarship for the encouragement of harmonious squeaking amongst Mice. One cannot do too much to encourage the love of music amongst all classes."
"When will our first dividends be paid?" asked the Rabbit.
"The money ought to have been paid already," answered the little scamp, "but business is very bad just at present. I would explain the matter to you, but I doubt you would not understand all the details."
"Very good; I will not trouble you," answered his companion easily. "I have perfect faith in your judgment, and will leave all to you."
Yet from time to time, as was natural, he still made inquiries, which the Mouse began to find troublesome. He therefore consulted with his wicked friend the Horse, and they resolved that, as the half-year was approaching, and they had got sufficient money for what they wanted, it was better to delay the carrying out of their plot no longer, but to kill the Rabbit as soon as it could be managed--indeed that very day.
"To whom shall we intrust the deed?" asked the Horse. "There would be too great a risk for either of us to undertake it, I fear. If we were discovered there would at once be an end of all our plans. Our money would be taken, and possibly our lives also."
The Mouse considered for a moment, then he said:
"I think I know the very fellow for the job. There is the Sentry who always stands in his wooden box. He is a chap who will do anything to vary the dulness of his life and earn a little money. He told me so the other day. He is both brave and wicked. Let him him do the deed."
"Very well," replied the Horse; "I think your idea is good. Will you arrange the matter so that it be carried out without any mistake?"
"Leave it to me," replied the other. "You need not disturb yourself. The days of the Rabbit are numbered."
"Good!" neighed the Horse; "and the quantity of my corn, oats,--besides carrots, apples, and other luxuries,--will be beyond number. We'll at once open an account with the fruiterer and corn-dealer."
"Also the cheese-monger," said the Mouse. "Well, I must go; there is not a moment to be lost if we wish to carry out our plan." Then he hurried off to the Sentry.
"Sentry," said he, "are you prepared to run some risk for the sake of money?"
"For the sake of money I'm prepared to do anything," said the wicked fellow.
"Then listen," said the Mouse. "There is a sum of money that, strictly speaking, ought to be divided between the Rabbit and myself. But the best way appears to be that I should have it all. But that is a little difficult so long as he is alive. So I come to you to ask you if you will kill him, provided I fill your knapsack with gold."
"Upon that condition, yes," said the ruffian. "But don't attempt to break it, or I shall put an end to you as well as your friend."
"Never fear. Rest assured you shall have it," said the Mouse.
"Now for the details of the plot," he continued. "I am going to propose to the Rabbit a private performance in front of your sentry-box. I shall say I have suggested it in order to vary the terrible dulness of your existence. Having finished our performance I shall lead the way straight forward, with our backs towards you. When we have gone a few steps I shall remark loudly, 'That Sentry friend of ours is a smart chap; he knows how to handle the bayonet'. This is to be the signal for you to step quietly out of your box, and, pretending to stumble, stab the Rabbit in the back with your bayonet. This should be quite easy, for he is sure to be walking away on his hind-legs. He has fallen into that habit since he has taken to playing the drum. You and I will, of course, exhibit much grief, and declare that his death was an unfortunate accident. You see the plan offers no difficulty."
"Then if the plan offers no difficulty, I won't," said the Sentry, with a cold-blooded laugh. "When is it to be carried out?"
"This very day, in about two hours' time," replied the Mouse. "Well, good-bye for the present, I think it is all very nicely arranged;" and he nimbly scurried back to tell the Horse that the Rabbit was to be killed by the Sentry; which he did with the utmost glee.
Perhaps, however, his glee would not have been so great had he known that whilst he was giving his account of what had occurred to the Horse, his wicked plan was at the same time being told to the intended victim!
This is how such a strange thing happened.
Whilst the Mouse and the Sentry were talking, they had forgotten that the Owl's usual position was just behind the sentry-box. Or, if they thought of it at all, they gave no heed to the fact, being aware that the Owl was accustomed to sleep during the whole of the day.
It so happened, however, that at the very moment the Mouse began his conversation with the Sentry, the Owl awakened with a start from a bad daymare, and all but hooted with fright. Growing calm as he became wider awake, he was going off to sleep again,--when the name of the Rabbit caught his ear. Being well acquainted with both him and the Mouse, whose squeaking voice he recognized, the Owl listened to what was being said, at first with drowsy then with startled attention.
He only waited until he had learned all the details of the vile plot, and then, overcoming, in the cause of friendship, every desire to close his heavy eyes, he stole away, and imparted his startling news to the astonished Rabbit.
"Impossible!" exclaimed his hearer, letting his drum-stick fall with a crash upon the instrument he had been industriously practising. "I would as soon doubt my own honor as that of the little Mouse--my friend and companion through weal and woe. Impossible! You must have dreamt it, or invented it."
"Don't be so hasty in your judgment," remarked the Owl. "I have neither dreamt nor invented it. If you doubt me go without delay to the brown Horse's stable, where you will find the Mouse at this present moment talking with his wicked companion. I will wait here until you return, in case I may be needed to help you in your difficulty."
"Many thanks," said the Rabbit, and leaving his drum in charge of the Owl he hurried away.
But a short time passed, and then he returned with a look of horror and dismay.
"All you have told me is but too true," he exclaimed. "Let me tender you my most sincere apologies for having doubted your word. Unseen by my faithless friend, I listened to his conversation with the Horse, and overheard more than enough to convince me of the truth of your story.
"Yet who," he continued sorrowfully, "who could have believed it of that little Mouse? Who would have imagined so great an amount of deceit dwelt in so small a body?"
Then he recovered his spirit. "I will baulk him yet!" he exclaimed, his pink eyes flashing, and his white fur bristling with excitement.
"How can I help you?" asked the Owl. "I will endeavor to keep awake as long as I am wanted."
"Wait a moment," answered the Rabbit, and then he beat a tattoo thoughtfully on his drum. "I think I have arrived at a conclusion," he said presently. "I will meet their dastardly plot by a counter-plot. I do not expect the Mouse back for another half-hour; he told me he should be busy till half-past twelve putting away our recent earnings. This will just give us time to do what I wish.
"Here is my plot," he continued. "Having procured a bottle of gum we will go to the sentry-box, at the back of which you will take up your position. I will tell the Sentry you have been telling me a most comical little dream you have had--the one, indeed, you told me of late. He is a great fellow for good stories, and will certainly hurry off to hear it.
"Whilst he is away I will spread the bottom of the sentry-box with gum. When, on his return, he steps into the box, I shall keep him still, and give the gum time to take effect, by offering him a bet of a gold piece that he will not stand perfectly motionless whilst I go home and back. He is very fond of a bet, and is sure to accept it. Leaving you to see that he acts fairly, I shall go and meet the Mouse, returning here for the performance which is to be suggested.
"That, however, I shall cut short, having no desire to waste my talent on a villain like the Sentry. I shall turn away with the Mouse, who, on giving the signal agreed upon, will, to his amazement, find that it is followed by no result. For by that time the Sentry will be gummed so tightly to the floor of his sentry-box that he will not be able to move an inch.
"Having enjoyed the sight of their confusion I shall punish them, biting off the head of the Mouse--for whose deceit no punishment can be too severe,--and beating the Sentry about the head until he can't see out of his eyes. Nor shall the Horse escape my vengeance. I shall creep into his stall, and suddenly, and with a precise aim, throw a piece of gold at the pupils of his wicked eyes. Thus he will be totally blinded by the gold he has wrongfully helped to keep. A most fit and proper punishment."
"Your plans are well and thoughtfully worked out," said the Owl, blinking his eyes.
"To business, then," remarked the Rabbit; and the two having first procured the gum took their way to the sentry-box; the Rabbit strolling thither on his hind-legs to avoid any appearance of alarm or haste, the Owl hopping by his side with a certain grave and sleepy dignity.
Arrived at the sentry-box, the Owl placed himself behind it, whilst the Rabbit, concealing the bottle of gum under his drum, went to the front and bid the Sentry "good-day."
"Good-day," said the Sentry. "What are you grinning at?" For the Rabbit was smiling from ear to ear.
"Nothing of much consequence," he replied. "Merely a most comical little dream that the Owl--who happens for a wonder to be awake--has been telling me. It made me die of laughter."
"Pass it on," said the Sentry.
"I shouldn't think of doing that," replied the Rabbit. "I don't approve of telling people's own particular little stories; they prefer the fun of relating them themselves. Look here, you go round for a moment or two and get him to let you hear it before he drops asleep again. It is an occasion to seize, for he is hardly ever awake when other people are, and he tells a story better than anyone else I know."
"Well, I rather think I will," answered the Sentry. "I'm very fond of a good story. You take my place whilst I'm away, there's a good fellow. Here, put down your drum and take my bayonet."
"Very good," answered the Rabbit, and the Sentry hurried off.
The moment he had turned the corner the Rabbit set to work and spread gum all over the floor of the sentry-box. Then, standing outside, he took up the bayonet and mounted guard, first carefully hiding the tell-tale bottle behind a box of bricks. By and by the Sentry returned.
"Well, it was not a very good story after all," he said rudely. "Thank you for nothing. Why aren't you in the sentry-box? I am inclined to bayonet you for breaking your word."
"I should not have been able to move about sufficiently," the Rabbit answered. "I should have suffered from cramp."
"Stuff and nonsense!" the Sentry replied. "I stand in it for hours at a time."
"But not without moving?" asked the Rabbit, with an air of disbelief. "Without stirring an eighth of an inch," the Sentry said.
"I don't believe it," replied the Rabbit. "I challenge you to keep perfectly still for any length of time. I bet you a gold piece you won't stand motionless whilst I run home and back again."
"Done!" said the Sentry, and straightway stepped into his box.
"This sentry-box gets slimy and dirty," he said, without the least idea of what the Rabbit had done. "It is quite sticky with dirt. It wouldn't be a bad thing if you were to clean it out for me some day."
"I'll see," answered the other carelessly, fearing to be either too polite or too rude lest he should arouse any suspicions in the Sentry's mind. "I don't generally care to do other people's dirty work, but I may do that some day when I am not busy. You serve your country, so you deserve a little help."
"If you don't do it willingly, you shall do it unwillingly," he blustered. "If I serve my country, you must serve me."
"There's plenty of time to think it over," answered the Rabbit. "In the meanwhile, you can't stir even to have it cleaned or you lose your bet. I'm off. But wait, I must call the Owl to be a witness that you keep strictly to the terms we have agreed upon."
Then, having called the Owl and stated the terms of the bet, the Rabbit went home.
Here he awaited the arrival of the Mouse, who presently returned, full of pretended sympathy for the dulness of the Sentry's life.
"He told me to-day," said the little rascal, "that the dulness of his life was killing him. It struck me that it would be really an act of charity on our part to give him a little performance, and let him fully understand we expect no money for it. I hinted at something of the sort to him, and the poor fellow's face lighted up in a way that was quite touching. Suppose we go his way now as we have a little spare time."
"I'm quite willing to," replied the Rabbit. "But I've just come from him, and he never complained of dulness to me. In fact, he was in quite good enough spirits to have a bet with me on the subject of his being able to stand motionless for a certain time."
"Oh, he did that to try and kill care, no doubt," answered the Mouse. "I know him well, though he is a reserved chap and opens out his heart to few. Come on."
Now by the time the Rabbit and the Mouse returned to the sentry-box, the gum had had time to get well dried, so that the Sentry was firmly fixed in his box. Nevertheless, there was still the danger that he might attempt to move, and so find out too soon the trick that had been played upon him. To avert this, directly the Rabbit came back again he lost no time in remarking to the Sentry:
"Yes, I acknowledge you have won the bet. But you have only just managed to do so; you are looking quite tired out. Another five minutes or less, and you would have been unable to stand still a moment longer."
"Double or quits!" cried the Sentry. "For another gold piece, I'll engage to keep still for the time you mention. If I fail to do so, of course you don't pay me anything."
"Agreed," said the Rabbit.
"Oh, friends," exclaimed the Mouse, shaking his head, "do not give way to this habit! It is, indeed, a sad, bad one."
This he merely said to impress the Owl (on whom he had not counted as a spectator) with a sense of his moral worth. He hoped by this means to counteract any after suspicions that might arise in the good bird's mind.
"As to that," said the Sentry, who was generally rude whether he was addressing friend or foe, "it is my own concern whether I bet or not. You had better not trouble yourself with my affairs, but if you really mean to give me one of your performances you would do well to begin."
"Just as you will," the Mouse said. "But I can't help taking an interest in the welfare of those with whom I have to do." Then addressing the Rabbit: "Dear friend," he said smoothly, "will you open with your famous verie, 'Dreamings of a Drum,' whilst I perform my pas de quatre, 'Twirlings of the Toes?'"
"Very good," agreed the Rabbit.
And the two performers began. But in a few moments the Rabbit stopped.
"I cannot continue," he said. "I am suffering from cramp in the muscles of my drum-legs."
"Dear! What a pity!" exclaimed the Mouse. "Come for a walk and brace yourself up."
"All right!" answered the Rabbit. "We'll go and fetch the gold pieces which I must give this fellow."
"Can't you give me something at once?" asked the Sentry, who did not, in his greed of gold, wish to lose the chance of getting all he could.
"I've nothing with me," replied the Rabbit. And so saying he followed the Mouse, who with his back towards the Sentry had already moved away.
They had hardly gone more than half a dozen steps when the Mouse said suddenly and loudly: "That Sentry friend of ours is a smart chap; he knows how to handle the bayonet."
"You are right," answered the Rabbit, and walked on, the Mouse doing the same, though with lagging steps.
Presently a look of anger and wonder crept into his eyes, remarking which the Rabbit laughed.
"What are you laughing at?" asked the Mouse uneasily.
"At nothing particular," answered his companion. "Cheerfulness, you know, is a habit of the mind."
At this moment a loud groan burst from the Sentry, who during this time had been struggling to get free, and in a last frantic effort, had just succeeded in giving a most painful rick to his back.
"Our Sentry friend does not look happy," said the Rabbit grimly.
"He is not well, I suppose," answered the Mouse nervously. "What has happened, I wonder?"
"ALL IS DISCOVERED!" exclaimed the Rabbit loudly.
Then as the Mouse made a desperate effort to run away, the Rabbit dealt him a blow on the back which injured the clockwork within his body and quite put a stop to his flight.
"I know all!" the Rabbit said sternly. "You are a little villain! What defence can you offer for so grossly deceiving me?"
But the Mouse made no reply. In a fury of disappointment and fear he was biting the Rabbit's legs, hoping thus to disable him and prevent his punishing the treachery that had been brought to light.
"Desist!" cried the Rabbit, "or I shall end your life without delay. I repeat, what excuse can you offer for having so wickedly broken the terms of our agreement? You have tried to rob me of my life and my money. Make your defence."
"There was no written agreement," answered the Mouse shamelessly. "Each was at liberty to understand it in his own way."
"Most wicked of animals, you are not fit to live," cried the Rabbit with disgust. "Your moments are numbered."
Then before the Mouse could offer any protest, the Rabbit bit his head right off and swallowed it.
"You will observe," said the Rabbit to the Owl with dignity, "that I still maintain my proper position in the eyes of the world as a Welsh rare-bit, but the Mouse, owing to his misdeeds, is now in the contemptible state of the biter bit. Such is the end of the wicked.
"As for you," he continued to the Sentry, who, with his boastful spirit crushed, stood trembling in the Sentry-box; "as for you, you have seen too much of the world and its ways. It would be better for you to see a little less of it for a time."
Then, according to his intention, the Rabbit beat the Sentry about the head until he could not see out of his eyes.
"It now only remains to deal with the Horse. I go to give him the due reward of his deeds," the Rabbit remarked, taking up his drum and preparing to leave. But pausing a moment he added to the Owl: "With regard to you, my good friend, if ever an opportunity arises by which I can show you my gratitude for your kind services, rest assured that I shall eagerly avail myself of it."
Now, the next morning the woman who keeps this shop spoke severely to her own little girl.
"You have been touching the toys and damaging them," she said with anger. "See what mischief you have done! You have knocked off the head of this mouse--and, what is more, I can't find it anywhere,--you have rubbed all the paint off this sentry's face, and you have broken the glass eyes of this brown horse. You shall be punished."
The little girl began to whimper.
"I have not hurt the toys," she said. "I have never touched them since you put me to bed for breaking the baby doll."
The woman looked puzzled: "If you say you haven't, you haven't, I suppose," she said, "for I know you are a truthful child. Then how has it happened? I shouldn't think any customer would do it without my noticing. I can't understand it."
Nor can she to this day. But we can: you, the Rabbit, the Owl, the Sentry, the Horse, and myself. But not the Mouse, for he has lost his head.
