The Floating Prince and Other Fairy Tales/The Emergency Mistress
THE EMERGENCY MISTRESS.
JULES VATERMANN was a wood-cutter, and a very good one. He always had employment, for he understood his business so well, and was so industrious and trustworthy, that every one in the neighborhood where he lived, who wanted wood cut, was glad to get him to do it.
Jules had a very ordinary and commonplace life until he was a middle-aged man, and then something remarkable happened to him. It happened on the twenty-fifth of January, in a very cold winter. Jules was forty-five years old, that year, and he remembered the day of the month, because in the morning, before he started out to his work, he had remarked that it was just one month since Christmas.
The day before, Jules had cut down a tall tree, and he had been busy all the morning sawing it into logs of the proper length and splitting it up and making a pile of it.
When dinner-time came round, Jules sat down on one of the logs and opened his basket He had plenty to eat,—good bread and sausage, and a bottle of beer, for he was none of your poor wood-cutters.
As he was cutting a sausage, he looked up and saw something coming from behind his wood-pile.
At first, he thought it was a dog, for it was about the right size for a small dog, but in a moment he saw it was a little man. He was a little man indeed, for he was not more than two feet high. He was dressed in brown clothes and wore a peaked cap, and he must have been pretty old, for he had a full white beard. Although otherwise warmly clad, he wore on his feet neither shoes nor stockings, and came hopping along through the deep snow as if his feet were very cold.
JULES AND THE LITTLE MAN.
When he saw this little old man, Jules said never a word. He merely thought to himself: "This is some sort of a fairy-man."
But the little old person came close to Jules, and drawing up one foot, as if it was so cold that he could stand on it no longer, he said:
"Please, sir, my feet are almost frozen."
"Oh, ho!" thought Jules, "I know all about that. This is one of the fairy-folks who come in distress to a person, and who if that person is kind to them, make him rich and happy; but if he turns them away, he soon finds himself in all sorts of misery. I shall be very careful." And then he said aloud: "Well, sir, what can I do for you?"
"That is a strange question," said the dwarf. "If you were to walk by the side of a deep stream, and were to see a man sinking in the water, would you stop and ask him what you could do for him?"
"Would you like my stockings?" said Jules, putting down his knife and sausage, and preparing to pull off one of his boots. "I will let you have them?"
"No, no!" said the other. "They are miles too big for me."
"Will you have my cap or my scarf in which to wrap your feet and warm them?"
"No, no!" said the dwarf. "I don't put my feet in caps and scarfs."
"Well, tell me what you would like," said Jules. "Shall I make a fire?"
"No, I will not tell you," said the fairy-man. "You have kept me standing here long enough."
Jules could not see what this had to do with it. He was getting very anxious. If he were only a quick-witted fellow, so as to think of exactly the right thing to do, he might make his fortune. But he could think of nothing more.
"I wish, sir, that you would tell me just what you would like for your cold feet," said Jules, in an entreating tone, "for I shall be very glad to give it to you, if it is at all possible."
"If your ax were half as dull as your brain," said the dwarf, "you would not cut much wood. Good-day!"—and he skipped away behind the wood-pile.
Jules jumped up and looked after him, but he was gone. These fairy-people have a strange way of disappearing.
Jules was not married and had no home of his own. He lived with a good couple who had a little house and an only daughter, and that was about the sum of their possessions. The money Jules paid for his living helped them a little, and they managed to get along. But they were quite poor.
Jules was not poor. He had no one but himself to support, and he had laid by a sum of money to live on when he should be too old to work.
But you never saw a man so disappointed as he was that evening as he sat by the fire after supper.
He had told the family all about his meeting with the dwarf, and lamented again and again that he had lost such a capital chance of making his fortune.
"If I only could have thought what it was best to do!" he said, again and again.
"I know what I should have done," said Selma, the only daughter of the poor couple, a girl about eleven years old.
"What?" asked Jules, eagerly.
"I should have just snatched the little fellow up, and rubbed his feet and wrapped them in my shawl until they were warm," said she.
"But he would not have liked that," said Jules. "He was an old man and very particular."
"I would not care," said Selma; "I wouldn't let such a little fellow stand suffering in the snow, and I wouldn't care how old he was."
"I hope you'll never meet any of these fairy people," said Jules. "You'd drive them out of the country with your roughness, and we might all whistle for our fortunes."
Selma laughed and said no more about it.
Every day after that, Jules looked for the dwarf-man, but he did not see him again. Selma looked for him, too, for her curiosity had been much excited; but as she was not allowed to go to the woods in the winter, of course she never saw him.
But, at last, summer came; and, one day, as she was walking by a little stream which ran through the woods, whom should she see, sitting on the bank, but the dwarf-man! She knew him in an instant, from Jules' descriptions. He was busily engaged in fishing, but he did not fish like any one else in the world. He had a short pole, which was floating in the water, and in his hand he held a string which was fastened to one end of the pole.
When Selma saw what the old fellow was doing, she burst out laughing. She knew this was not very polite, but she could not help it.
"What's the matter?" said he, turning quickly toward her.
"I'm sorry I laughed at you, sir," said Selma, "but that's no way to fish."
"Much you know about it," said the dwarf. "This is only way to fish. You let your pole float, with a piece of bait on a hook fastened to the big end of the pole. Then you fasten a line to the little end. When a fish bites, you haul in the pole by means of the string."
"Have you caught anything yet?" asked Selma.
"No, not yet," replied the dwarf.
"Well, I'm sure I can fish better than that. Would you +mind letting me try a little while?"
"Not at all—not at all!" said the dwarf, handing the line to Selma. "If you think you can fish better than I can, do it by all means."
Selma took the line and pulled in the pole. Then she unfastened the hook and bait which was on the end of the pole, and tied it to the end of the line, with a little piece of stone for a sinker. She then took up the pole, threw in the line, and fished like common people. In less than a minute she had a bite, and, giving a jerk, she drew out a fat little fish as long as her hand.
"Hurrah!" cried the little old man, giving a skip in the air; and then, turning away from the stream, he shouted, "Come here!"
Selma turned around to see to whom he was calling, and she perceived another gnome, who was running toward them. When he came near, she saw that, he was much younger than the fisher-gnome.
"Hello!" cried the old fellow, "I've caught one."
Selma was amazed to hear this. She looked at the old gnome, who was taking the fish off the hook, as if she were astonished that he could tell such a falsehood.
"What is this other person's name?" said she to him.
"His name," said the old gnome, looking up, "is Class 60, H."
"Is that all the name he has?" asked Selma, in surprise.
"Yes. And it is a very good name. It shows just who and what he is."
"Well, then. Mr. Class 60, H," said Selma, "that old—person did not catch the fish. I caught it myself"
"Very good! Very good!" said Class 60, H, laughing and clapping his hands. "Capital! See here!" said he, addressing the older dwarf, and he knelt down and whispered something in his hear.
"Certainly," said the old gnome. "That's just what I was thinking of. Will you mention it to her? I must hurry and show this fish while it is fresh,"—and, so saying, he walked rapidly away with the little fish, and the pole and tackle.
"My dear Miss," said Class 60, H, approaching Selma, "would you like to visit the home of the gnomes,—to call, in fact, on the Queen Dowager of all the Gnomes?"
"Go down underground, where you live?" asked Selma. "Would it be safe down there, and when could I get back again?"
"Safe, dear miss! Oh, perfectly so! And the trip will not take you more than a couple of hours. I assure you that you will be back in plenty of time for supper. Will you go, if I send a trusty messenger for you? You may never have another chance to see our country."
Selma thought that this was very probable, and she began to consider the matter.
As soon as Class 60, H, saw that she was really trying to make up her mind whether or not to go, he cried out:
"Good! I see you have determined to go. Wait here five minutes and the messenger will be with you," and then he rushed off as fast as he could run.
"I didn't say I would go," thought Selma, "but I think will."
In a very few minutes, Selma heard a deep voice behind her say: "Well, are you ready?"
Turning suddenly, she saw, standing close to her, a great black bear!
Frightened dreadfully, she turned to run, but the bear called out: "Stop! You needn't be frightened. I'm tame."
The surprise of hearing a bear speak overcame poor Selma's terror; she stopped, and looked around. "Come back," said the bear; "I will not hurt you in the least. I am sent to take you to the Queen Dowager of the Gnomes. I don't mind your being frightened at me. I'm used to it. But I am getting a little tired of telling folks that I am tame," and he yawned wearily.
"You are to take me?" said Selma, still a little frightened, and very certain that, if she had known a bear was to be sent for her, she never would have consented to go.
"Yes," said the bear. "You can get on my back and I will give you a nice ride. Come on! Don't keep me waiting, please."
There was nothing to be done but to obey, for Selma did not care to have a dispute with a bear, even if he were tame, and so she got upon his back, where she had a very comfortable seat, holding fast to his long hair.
The bear walked slowly but steadily into the very heart of the forest, among the great trees and the rocks. It was so lonely and solemn here that Selma felt afraid again.
"Suppose we were to meet with robbers," said she.
"Robbers!" said the bear, with a laugh. "That's good! Robbers, indeed! You needn't be afraid of robbers. If we were to meet any of them, you would be the last person they'd ever meet."
"Why?" asked Selma.
"I'd tear 'em all into little bits," said the bear, in a tone which quite restored Selma's confidence, and made her feel very glad that she had a bear to depend upon in those lonely woods.
It was not very long before they came to an opening in a bank of earth, behind a great tree. Into this the bear walked, for it was wide enough, and so high that Selma did not even have to lower her head, as they passed in. They were now in a long winding passage, which continually seemed as if it was just coming to an end, but which turned and twisted, first one way and then another, and always kept going down and down. Before long they began to meet gnomes, who very respectfully stepped aside to let them pass. They now went through several halls and courts, cut in the earth, and directly, the bear stopped before a door.
"You get off here," said the bear; and, when Selma had slid
"'ROBBERS!' SAID THE BEAR. 'THAT'S GOOD! ROBBERS, INDEED!'"
from his back, he rose up on his hind legs and gave a great knock with the iron knocker on the door. Then he went away.
In a moment, the door opened, and there stood a little old gnome-woman, dressed in brown, and wearing a lace cap.
"Come in!" she said; and Selma entered the room. "The Queen Dowager will see you in a few minutes," said the little old woman. "I am her housekeeper. I'll go and tell her you're here, and, meantime, it would be well for you to get your answers all ready, so as to lose no time."
Selma was about to ask what answers she meant, but the housekeeper was gone before she could say a word.
The room was a curious one. There were some little desks and stools in it, and in the center stood a great brown ball, some six or seven feet in diameter. While she was looking about at these things, a little door in the side of the ball opened, and out stepped Class 60, H.
"One thing I didn't tell you," said he, hurriedly. "I was afraid if I mentioned it you wouldn't come. The Queen Dowager wants a governess for her grandson, the Gnome Prince. Now, please don't say you can't do it, for I'm sure you'll suit exactly. The little fellow has had lots of teachers, but he wants one of a different kind now. This is the school-room. That ball is the globe where he studies his geography. It's only the under part of the countries that he has to know about, and so they are marked out on the inside of the globe. What they want now is a special teacher, and after having come here, and had the Queen Dowager notified, it wouldn't do to back out, you know."
"How old is the Prince?" asked Selma.
"About seventy-eight," said the gnome.
"Why, he's an old man," cried Selma.
"Not at all, my dear miss," said Class 60, H. "It takes a long time for us to get old. The Prince is only a small boy; if he were a human boy, he would be about five years old. I don't look old, do I?"
"No," said Selma.
"Well, I'm three hundred and fifty-two, next Monday. And as for Class 20, P,—the old fellow you saw fishing,—he is nine hundred and sixty."
"Well, you are all dreadfully old, and you have very funny names," said Selma.
"In this part of the world," said the other, "all gnomes, except those belonging to the nobility and the royal family, are divided into classes, and lettered. This is much better than having names, for you know it is very hard to get enough names to go around, so that every one can have his own. But here comes the house-keeper," and Class 60, H, retired very quickly into the hollow globe.
"Her Majesty will see you," said the housekeeper; and she conducted Selma into the next room, where on a little throne, with a high back and rockers, sat the Queen Dowager. She seemed rather smaller than the other gnomes, and was very much wrinkled and wore spectacles. She had white hair, with little curls on each side, and was dressed in brown silk.
She looked at Selma over her spectacles.
"This is the applicant?" said she.
"Yes, this is she," said the housekeeper.
"She looks young," remarked the Queen Dowager.
"Very true," said the housekeeper, "but she cannot be any older at present."
"You are right," said Her Majesty; "we will examine her."
So saying, she took up a paper which lay on the table, and which seemed to have a lot of items written on it.
"Get ready," said she to the housekeeper, who opened a large blank-book and made ready to record Selma's answers.
The Queen Dowager read from the paper the first question:
"What are your qualifications?"
Selma, standing there before this little old queen and this little old housekeeper, was somewhat embarrassed, and a question like this did not make her feel any more at her ease. She could not think what qualifications she had. As she did not answer at once, the Queen Dowager turned to the housekeeper and said:
"Put down, 'Asked, but not given.'"
The housekeeper set that down, and then she jumped up and looked over the list of questions.
"We must be careful," said she, in a whisper, to the Queen Dowager, "what we ask her. It won't do to put all the questions to her. Suppose you try number twenty-eight?"
"All right," said Her Majesty; and, when the housekeeper had sat down again by her book, she addressed Selma and asked:
"Are you fond of children?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Selma.
"Good!" cried the Queen Dowager, "that is an admirable answer."
And the housekeeper nodded and smiled at Selma, as if she was very much pleased.
"'Eighty-two' would be a good one to ask next," suggested the housekeeper.
Her Majesty looked for "Eighty-two," and read it out:
"Do you like pie?"
"Very much, ma'am," said Selma.
"Capital! capital!" said Her Majesty. "That will do. I see no need of asking her any other questions. Do you?" said she turning to the housekeeper.
"None whatever," said the other. "She answered all but one, and that one she didn't really miss."
"There is no necessity for any further bother," said the Queen Dowager. "She is engaged."
And then she arose from the throne and left the room.
"Now, my dear girl," said the housekeeper "I will induct you into your duties. They are simple."
"But I should like to know," said Selma, "if I'm to stay here all the time. I can't leave my father and mother——"
"Oh! you won't have to do that," interrupted the housekeeper. "You will take the Prince home with you."
"Home with me?" exclaimed Selma.
"Yes. It would be impossible for you to teach him properly here. We want him taught Emergencies—that is, what to do in case of the various emergencies which may arise. Nothing of the kind ever arises down here. Everything goes on always in the usual way. But on the surface of the earth, where he will often go, when he grows up, they are very common, and you have been selected as a proper person to teach him what to do when any of them occur to him. By the way, what are your terms?"
"I don't know," said Selma. "Whatever you please."
"That will suit very well,—very well indeed," said the housekeeper. "I think you are just the person we want."
"Thank you," said Selma; and just then a door opened and the Queen Dowager put in her head.
"Is she inducted?" she asked.
"Yes," said the housekeeper.
"Then here is the Prince," said the Queen Dowager, entering the room and leading by the hand a young gnome about a foot high. He had on a ruffled jacket and trousers, and a little peaked cap. His royal grandmother led him to Selma.
"You will take him," she said, "for a session of ten months. At the end of that time we shall expect him to be thoroughly posted in emergencies. While he is away, he will drop all his royal titles and be known as Class 81, Q. His parents and I have taken leave of him. Good-bye!"
And she left the room, with her little handkerchief to her eyes.
"Now, then," said the housekeeper, "the sooner you are off, the better. The bear is waiting."
So saying, she hurried Selma and the Prince through the school-room, and, when they opened the door, there stood the bear, all ready. Selma mounted him, and the housekeeper handed up the Prince, first kissing him good-bye. Then off they started.
The Prince, or, as he must now be called, Class 81, Q, was a very quiet and somewhat bashful little fellow; and, although Selma talked a good deal to him, on the way, he did not say much. The bear carried them to the edge of the woods, and then Selma took the little fellow in her arms and ran home with him.
It may well be supposed that the appearance of their daughter with the young gnome in her arms greatly astonished the worthy cottagers, and they were still more astonished when they heard her story.
"You must do your best, my dear," said her mother, "and this may prove a very good thing for you, as well as for this little master here."
Selma promised to do as well as she could, and her father said he would try and think of some good emergencies, so that the little fellow could be well trained.
Everybody seemed to be highly satisfied, even Class 81, Q, himself, who sat cross-legged on a wooden chair, surveying everything about him; but when Jules Vatermann came home, he was very much dissatisfied, indeed.
"Confound it!" he said, when he heard the story, "I should have done all this. That should have been my pupil, and the good luck should have been mine. The gnome-man came first to me, and, if he had waited a minute, I should have thought of the right thing to do. I could teach that youngster far better than you, Selma. What do you know about emergencies?"
Selma and her parents said nothing. Jules had been quite cross-grained since the twenty-fifth of January, when he had met the gnome, and they had learned to pay but little attention to his fault-finding and complaining.
The little gnome soon became quite at home in the cottage and grew very much attached to Selma. He was quiet, but sensible and bright, and knew a great deal more than most children of five. Selma did not have many opportunities to educate him in her peculiar branch. Very commonplace things generally happened in the cottage.
One day, however, the young gnome was playing with the cat, and began to pull her tail. The cat, not liking this, began to scratch Class 81, Q. At this, the little fellow cried and yelled, while the cat scratched all the more fiercely. But Selma, who ran into the room on hearing the noise, was equal to the emergency. She called out, instantly:
"Let go of his tail!"
The gnome let go, and the cat bounded away.
The lesson of this incident was then carefully impressed on her pupil's mind by Selma, who now thought that she had at last begun to do her duty by him.
A day or two after this, Selma was sent by her mother on an errand to the nearest village. As it would be dark before she returned, she did not take the little gnome with her. About sunset, when Jules Vatermann returned from his work, he found the youngster playing by himself in the kitchen.
Instantly, a wicked thought rushed into the mind of Jules. Snatching up the young gnome, he ran off with him as fast as he could go. As he ran, he thought to himself:
"Now is my chance. I know what to do, this time. I'll just keep this young rascal and make his people pay me a pretty sum for his ransom. I'll take him to the city, where the gnomes never go, and leave him there, in safe hands, while I come back and make terms. Good for you, at last, Jules!"
So, on he hurried, as fast as he could go. The road soon led him into a wood, and he had to go more slowly. Poor little Class 81, Q, cried and besought Jules to let him go, but the hard-hearted wood-cutter paid no attention to his distress.
Suddenly, Jules stopped. He heard something, and then he saw something. He began to tremble. A great bear was coming along the road, directly toward him!
What should he do? He could not meet that dreadful creature. He hesitated but a moment. The bear was now quite near, and, at the first growl it gave, Jules dropped the young gnome, and turned and ran away at the top of his speed. The bear started to run after him, not noticing little Class 81, Q, who was standing in the road; but as he passed the dwarf, who had never seen any bear except the tame one which belonged to the gnomes, and who thought this animal was his old friend, the little fellow seized him by the long hair on his legs and began to climb up on his back.
The bear, feeling some strange creature on him, stopped and looked around. The moment the young gnome saw the fiery eyes and the glittering teeth of the beast, he knew that he had made a mistake; this was no tame bear.
The savage beast growled, and, reaching back as far as he could, snapped at the little fellow on his back, who quickly got over on the other side. Then the bear reached back on that side, and Class 81, Q, was obliged to slip over again. The bear became very angry, and turned around and around in his efforts to get at the young gnome, who was nearly frightened to death. He could not think what in the world he should do. He could only remember that, in a great emergency,—but not quite as bad a one as this,—his teacher had come to his aid with the counsel, "Let go of his tail." He would gladly let go of the bear's tail, but the bear had none—at least, none that he could see. So what was he to do? "Let go of his tail!" cried the poor little fellow, to himself. "Oh, if he only had a tail!"
Before long, the bear himself began to be frightened. This was something entirely out of the common run of things. Never before in his life had he met with a little creature who stuck to him like that. He did not know what might happen next, and so he ran as hard as he could go toward his cave. Perhaps his wife, the old mother-bear, might be able to get this thing off. Away he dashed, and, turning sharply around a corner, little Class 81, Q, was jolted off, and was glad enough to find himself on the ground, with the bear running away through the woods.
The little fellow rubbed his knees and elbows, and, finding that he was not at all hurt, set off to find the cottage of his friend Selma, as well as he could. He had no idea which way to go, for the bear had turned around and around so often that he had become quite bewildered. However, he resolved to trudge along, hoping to meet some one who could tell him how to go back to Selma.
After a while, the moon rose, and then he could see a little better; but it was still quite dark in the woods, and he was beginning to be very tired, when he heard a noise as if some one was talking. He went toward the voice, and soon saw a man sitting on a rock by the road-side.
When he came nearer, he saw that the man was Jules, who was wailing and moaning and upbraiding himself.
"Ah me!" said the conscience-stricken wood-cutter, "Ah me! I am a wretch indeed. I have given myself up into the power of the Evil One. Not only did I steal that child from his home, and from the good people who have always befriended me, but I have left him to be devoured by a wild beast of the forest. Whatever shall I do? Satan himself has got me in his power, through my own covetousness and greed. How—oh! how—can I ever get away from him?"
The little gnome had now approached quite close to Jules, and, running up to him, he said:
"Let go of his tail!"
If the advice was good for him in an emergency, it might be good for others.
Jules started to his feet and stood staring at the youngster he had thought devoured.
"Whoever would have supposed," said he, at last, "that a little heathen midget like that, born underground, like a mole, would ever come to me and tell me my Christian duty. And he's right, too. Satan would never have got hold of me if I hadn't been holding to him all these months, hoping to get some good by it. I'll do it, my boy. I'll let go of his tail, now and forever." And, without thinking to ask Class 81, Q, how he got away from the bear, he took him up in his arms and ran home as fast as he could go.
During the rest of the young gnome's stay with Selma, he had several other good bits of advice in regard to emergencies, but none that was of such general application as this counsel to let go of a cat's tail, or the tail of anything else that was giving him trouble.
At the expiration of the session, the Queen Dowager was charmed with the improvement in her grandson. Having examined him in regard to his studies, she felt sure that he was now perfectly able to take care of himself in any emergency that might occur to him.
On the morning after he left, Selma, when she awoke, saw lying on the floor the little jacket and trousers of her late pupil. At first, she thought it was the little fellow himself; but when she jumped up and took hold of the clothes, she could not move them. They were filled with gold.
This was the pay for the tuition of Class 81, Q.