Christmas Tree Land Part 19

'It was wings,' he said. 'Quite a flight of birds have just flown off from under the roof.'

'Ah,' said Maia, nodding her head mysteriously, 'I thought so. Well, Rollo, _I_ don't intend to go to sleep to-night, whether you do or not.'

Rollo shook his head.

'I shall wake if there's anything to wake for,' he said. 'I'm much more sure of doing that than you can be of keeping awake.'

'Why, I couldn't _go_ to sleep if I thought there was going to be anything to wake for,' said Maia.

Before long they were both in bed. Rollo laid his head on the pillow without troubling himself about keeping awake or going to sleep. Maia, on the contrary, kept her eyes as wide open as she could. It was a moonlight night; the objects in the room stood out in sharp black shadow against the bright radiance, seeming to take queer fantastic forms which made her every minute start up, feeling sure that she saw some one or something beside her bedside. And every time that she found it a mistake she felt freshly disappointed. At last, quite tired with expecting she knew not what, she turned her face to the wall and shut her eyes.

'Stupid things that they all are!' she said to herself. 'G.o.dmother, and the birds, and Waldo, and Silva, and the old doctor, and everybody.

They've no business to promise us treats, and then never do anything about them. I shan't think any more about it, that I won't. I believe it's all a pretence.'

Which you will, I am sure, agree with me in thinking not very reasonable on Maia's part!

She fell asleep at last, and, as might have been expected, much more soundly than usual. When she woke, it was from a deep, dreamless slumber, but with the feeling that for some time some one had been calling her, and that she had been slow of rousing herself.

'What is it?' she called out, sitting up in bed, and trying to wink the sleep out of her eyes. 'Who is there?'

'Maia!' a voice replied. A voice that seemed to come from a great distance, and yet to reach her as clearly as any sound she had ever heard in her life. 'Maia, are you ready?'

Up sprang Maia.

'G.o.dmother, is it you calling me?' she said. 'Oh, yes, it must be you!

I'll be ready in a moment, G.o.dmother. If I could but find my shoes and stockings! Oh, dear! oh, dear! and I meant to keep awake all night. I've been expecting you such a long time.'

'I know,' said the voice, quite close beside her this time; 'you have been expecting me too much,' and, glancing round, Maia saw in the moonlight--right _in_ the moonlight, looking indeed almost as if the bright rays came from her--a shadowy silvery figure, quite different from G.o.dmother as she had hitherto known her, but which, nevertheless, she knew in a moment could be no one else. Maia flung her arms round her and kissed her.

'Yes,' she said, 'now I'm _quite_ sure it's you and not a dream. No dream has cheeks so soft as yours, G.o.dmother, and no one else kisses like you. Your kisses are just like violets. But what am I to do? Must I get dressed at once?'

G.o.dmother pa.s.sed her hands softly round the child. She seemed to stroke her.

'You are dressed,' she said. 'The clothes you wear generally would be too heavy, so I brought some with me. You do not need shoes and stockings.'

But Maia was looking at herself with too much surprise almost to hear what she said. 'Dressed,' yes, indeed! She was dressed as never before in her life, and though she turned herself about, and stroked herself like a little bird proud of its plumage, she could not find out of what her dress was made, nor what exactly was its colour. Was it velvet, or satin, or plush? Was it green or blue?

'I know,' she cried at last joyously; 'it's the same stuff your red dress is made of, G.o.dmother! Oh, how nice, and soft, and warm, and light all together it is! I feel as if I could jump up to the sky.'

'And not be seen when you got there,' said G.o.dmother. 'The colour of your dress _is_ sky colour, Maia. But when you have finished admiring yourself we must go--the others have been ready ever so long. They had not been expecting me _too_ much, like you, and so they were ready all the quicker.'

'Do you mean Rollo?' said Maia. 'Rollo, and Silva, and Waldo?'

G.o.dmother nodded her head.

'I'm ready now, any way,' said Maia.

'Give me your hand,' said G.o.dmother, and taking it she held it firm, and led Maia to the window. To the little girl's surprise it was wide open.

G.o.dmother, still holding her hand, softly whistled--once, twice, three times. Then stood quietly waiting.

A gentle, rustling, wafting sound became gradually audible. Maia remained perfectly still--holding her breath in her curiosity to see what was coming next. The sound grew nearer and louder, if one can use the word loud to so soft and delicate a murmur. Maia stretched out her head.

'Here they are,' said G.o.dmother, and as she spoke, a large object, looking something like a s.h.i.+p with two great sails swimming through the air instead of on the sea, came in sight, and, as if steered by an invisible hand, came slowly up to the window and there stopped.

'What is it?' cried Maia, not quite sure, in spite of G.o.dmother's firm clasp, whether she was not a little frightened, for even G.o.dmother herself looked strangely shadowy and unreal in the moonlight, and the great air-boat was like nothing Maia had ever seen or dreamt of.

Suddenly she gave a joyful spring, for she caught sight of what took away all her fear. There in the centre of the huge sails, seated in a sort of car, and joyfully waving their hands to her, were Rollo, and Silva, and Waldo.

'Come, Maia,' they called out; 'the birds have come to fetch us, you see. There's a snug seat for you among the cus.h.i.+ons. Come, quick.'

How was she to come, Maia was on the point of asking, when she felt G.o.dmother draw her quickly forward.

'Spring, my child, and don't be afraid,' she said, and Maia sprang almost without knowing it, for before she had time to ask or think anything about it, she found herself being kissed by Silva, and comfortably settled in her place by the boys.

'All right--we're off now,' Waldo called out, and at once, with a steady swing, the queer s.h.i.+p rose into the air.

'But G.o.dmother,' exclaimed Maia, 'where is she? Isn't she coming with us?'

'I am with you, my child,' answered G.o.dmother's clear, well-known voice.

But where it came from Maia could not tell.

'G.o.dmother is steering us,' said Silva softly, 'but we can't see her.

She doesn't want us to see her. But she'll take care of us.'

'But where are we?' asked Maia bewildered. 'What is this queer s.h.i.+p or balloon that we are in? What makes it go?'

'Look closer, and you'll see,' said Silva. 'Look at the sails.'

And Maia looking, saw by the bright moonlight something stranger than any of the strange things she had yet seen in Christmas-tree land. The sails were made of an immense collection of birds all somehow or other holding together. Afterwards Silva explained to her that they were all clinging by their claws to a great frame, round which they were arranged in order according to their size, and all flapping their wings in perfect time, so as to have much the same effect in propelling the vessel through the air as the regular motion of several pairs of oars in rowing a boat over the sea. And gradually, as Maia watched and understood, a soft murmur reached her ears--it was the waft of the many pairs of wings as they all together clove the air.

'Oh, the dear, sweet birds!' she exclaimed. 'They have planned it all themselves, I am sure. Oh, Silva, isn't it lovely? Have you ever had a sail in the air like this before?'

'Not exactly like this,' said Silva.

'We've had _rides_ in the air,' said Waldo mysteriously.

'_Have_ you?' said Maia eagerly. 'Oh, do tell us about them!'

But Rollo laid his hand on her arm.

'Hus.h.!.+' he said softly; 'the birds are going to sing,' and before Maia had time to ask him how he knew, the song began.

'Shut your eyes,' said Waldo; 'let's all shut our eyes. It sounds ever so much prettier.'

The others followed his advice. You can imagine nothing more delicious than the feeling of floating--for it felt more like quick floating than anything else--swiftly through the air, with the sweet warbling voices all keeping perfect time together, so that even the queer sounds which now and then broke through the others--a croak from the crow, who was quite satisfied that he alone conducted the ba.s.s voices, or a sudden screech from an owl, who had difficulty in subduing his tones--did not seem to mar the effect of the whole. The children did not speak; they did not feel as if they cared to do so. They held each others' hands, and Maia leant her head on Silva's shoulder in perfect content. It was like a beautiful dream.

Gradually the music ceased, and just as it did so G.o.dmother's well-known voice came clearly through the air. It seemed to come from above, and yet it sounded so near.

'Children,' she said, 'we are going higher. It will be colder for a while, for we must hasten, to be in good time for the dawn. Wrap yourselves up well!'