Seven Little People and their Friends Part 13

This was the first year that the Pansy had received calls and she was quite excited. She was very prettily pressed in a purple bodice with white skirt and yellow slippers. "Some one is coming!" she exclaimed to her mother, who was not far off. "I can hear a step on the Garden walk."

"Be composed," said her mother, "Is your bodice smooth?" She felt of it and it was. The Red Ant and the Black Ant had come in company. The Red Ant is a clerk and the Black Ant is his uncle and an undertaker. They both entered at once and were graciously received. The Red Ant is so methodical and so used to system, that he had arranged beforehand with his uncle precisely what they should say and in what order. So the Black Ant advanced and said quite soberly:

"This is a very lovely day," and the Red Ant immediately added--

"The Lilac is much later than usual this year."

"Isn't it!" said the Pansy very eagerly. "I declare I thought it never would come out. Mother told me over and over again not to be so impatient but I did get so vexed!"

"It makes very little difference with us," said the Red Ant whose turn it now was; "every thing is arranged in the Hill so perfectly that nothing can put us out. We each of us carry fifty grains of sand a day."

"Oh, how severe it must be for you!" said the Pansy. "I don't believe I ever could live so systematically. It is so nice just to enjoy the air and the sun without thinking much about it. Don't you ever get a holiday?"

"It is my turn, you know," whispered the Undertaker to his nephew, and the Red Ant was so systematic that he did not answer the question, for he had forgotten to allow for it in his calculation. So the Black Ant next said--

"It makes no difference to me either. In my profession, though we cannot of course be quite so systematic as my nephew here, yet we make it a point to be at our post, rain or s.h.i.+ne. Nephew, it must be time for us to be going."

"Yes," said the Red Ant, "it is exactly time. We allow five minutes for each call and ten minutes between each place. Good-morning!" and they marched off and said exactly the same thing at the next place.

The Pansy thought it was not quite so interesting as she expected, though it was pretty good fun, but soon she had a call from the Dragon-Fly, and that was worth while. So the morning went by, and was fully occupied with giving and receiving calls. Every one professed to have had a very good time, though the Earthworm to be sure had not succeeded in making a single call, he moved so slowly. The Bee was through long before noon, and boasted of it. "Prompt is my word," said he, "I made fifty calls, at an average of fifteen calls an hour."

That was the way they celebrated New Year's morning.

Evening.

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In the evening it was different but no less gay. Great preparations were going on under the Lilac-Bush. Beetles had been at work all day clearing the gra.s.s and putting things in order. At nightfall the Turtles and the Frogs sounded the chimes, and a merry noise they made of it. The Catbird rang only one bell. Something evidently was to occur. A little later the glow-worms began to collect, and the place was illuminated. The Lilac-Bush was hung with quant.i.ties of them, and others darted about in the air as if they were on the most important business. The Cherry Blossoms in the tree nearby were very curious to know what it all could mean. One of them agreed to go and find out. He sailed down gently and into a cl.u.s.ter of Lilacs.

"This is the grand celebration," said they in answer to his question.

"For one night in the year the Little People are coming out for sport before midnight. The Queen will be here, and we are to drop leaves upon her." But the Cherry Blossom was unable to carry the news back, for the winds were not favourable. It was as the Lilacs had said. This was the Queen Faery's reception night, being the first night of the year, and it was under the Lilac that she was to receive her subjects and their gifts.

At last the procession approached, attended above and at all sides by myriads of glow-worms. Foremost came a body of Daddy-Long-Legs, who walked marvellously fast, and cleared the way for the procession. Then a band of crickets followed all in uniform, and every one kept step to their music, though that was a difficult matter. Behind the band was the Queen Faery driving as usual her twelve Lady-Birds, which drew her acorn carriage; she was attended by a body-guard of Dor-Bugs, all in coats of mail. Then came troops of Faeries, some mounted, some on foot. They bore banners spun by the most skillful spiders and silk-worms, each company having its own device. For there were Faeries from the woods, from the streams, from the flags in the marshes, from the tops of the firs, from the sea, from the inside of caves, house-faeries, church-faeries, and gypsy faeries, that lived wherever they pleased and were always trespa.s.sing.

The fire-flies made it very light and there was no difficulty in finding the Bush. There they halted, and when the Queen alighted she found a delicious cus.h.i.+on for her to step upon; it was the messenger Cherry Blossom which had dropped upon the ground for that purpose. The Queen's throne was a dandelion flower and a regal throne it was. The Spider spun a winding staircase to the top, and stretched a canopy over it that glittered with diamonds of dew. While she was taking her seat the cricket band played the Throning of the Queen--one of their finest pieces, and composed for the occasion by the largest cricket in the band.

It was now the part of all, and permitted as well to the inhabitants of the Garden, to come up in order and be presented to the Queen, and to offer any gifts they might wish to bring. Two of the insects commonly called Walking-Sticks were in attendance, and were the ushers to announce each as they came up. It was proper that the Faeries should have the first place.

These came up in companies, according to their place in the procession.

They where duly ushered into the presence of the Queen, and there was a spokesman for each party, who made a little address and offered a gift.

The Faeries from the woods brought an anemone flower, set in dead forest leaf, and the spokesman explained that the flower was the antic.i.p.ation of summer, and that it was fitting it should have such a back-ground.

The Faeries from the streams were obliged to come sitting in sh.e.l.ls filled with water and drawn by dragon-flies. They made a fine appearance and brought the scale of a trout; it was more beautiful than mother of pearl. The Faeries from the flags in the marshes brought a carpet made of leaves of the white violet; the central figure was a marsh mallow.

The Faeries from the tops of the Firs brought a complete dinner service made of scales of the cone. The Faeries from the sea came upon the sea-foam, and the East Wind brought them. It made the place exceedingly chilly, and the Queen s.h.i.+vered. One could smell the saltness all over the Garden, and one of the Faeries was so overpowered by it that she fainted. They left their present, however, which was a necklace of crystal salt, and were off again. The Queen could not wear the necklace, however, for it made her head ache. The Faeries from the inside of caves came riding upon bats, and brought a stalact.i.te made in the form of a horse of dandelion-down, for there is a favourite story among the Faeries in which such a horse figures. This was a very pretty piece of sculpture. The house Faeries brought a beautiful shawl made of the interwoven golden hair of the youngest child and the silver hair of her old grandfather. The church Faeries brought a sound from the organ; it was very solemn, and every one was quiet when it was offered. As for the gypsy Faeries they said they had nothing to give, and so would sing a song, which they did to the great delight of all, though the Walking-Sticks thought it not quite becoming.

The inhabitants of the Garden had been quite impatient for the Faeries to be through, for their turn was yet to come. It would be quite impossible to enumerate them all. The Flowers could not come themselves but they sent their choicest perfumes, and the Miller was so obliging as to carry for them a great many charming and delicate tints. The Bee gave a drop of honey, but he was so loud and coa.r.s.e in his way and carried so many weapons about him that all were glad when he went. The Humming-Bird would not come, the Honeysuckle was his Queen, he said. The Red Ant said it was all fol-de-rol and there was no such thing as a faery in his opinion, much less a Queen Faery; and he stayed in the Hill and walked through all the pa.s.sages to see that every thing was in order. The b.u.t.terfly, poor thing! was dead, and the Black Ant of course was too busy burying him to attend to such frivolous matters. The Gra.s.shopper, however, came the whole length of the Garden, and each skip was precisely as long as the last. It took just one hundred and sixty-seven skips to reach the Lilac Bush. His uniform looked finely, and the Walking-Sticks rejoiced that here at last was one come who had style and observed etiquette. It was rather formal to be sure. The Walking-Sticks each bowed eleven times, and the Gra.s.shopper raised his elbow so often and with so much precision, that you would have said it was very nicely calculated. He made a set speech which the Queen listened to, and then he pa.s.sed out again; but he left no present, perhaps he thought he had honoured her enough by coming to pay his respects.

The Faeries agreed that the reception must be all over now and that the last of the inhabitants had come and gone; so they were ready for sport.

They did not know--how should they? that the Earth worm was on the way; but he never reached the place in time; he was so blind that he lost the road frequently. Room was now made for a dance. The Fire-flies improved their lights and arranged them more artistically, and the Faeries took their places. The inhabitants of the Garden could only look on. Just as they were ready to begin, a bustling and confusion was observed among the group of house Faeries. What could be the stir? They were evidently very much excited, and the reason was this: One of their number, their spokesman at the reception, was leaning against a stalk of clover and looking up at the sky through the Lilac Bush. We think it hard to count the stars, they are so many in number, but to a Faery who once lived among them the stars are familiar as household faces. Thus the little Faery was aware of a new star that at that instant appeared in the sky.

It was a very little star and rested between two larger ones, but it did not escape his quick eye and he was now all alive with excitement.

"We must lose no time!" cried he to his companions: "there is a new star! the child is born! come!" and they all sped to the house. One only remained for a moment to explain it to the Queen and then followed the rest.

The event produced great commotion in the Faery circle and all looked to the Queen to see what was to be done. The Queen instantly called her bugler, the tame Musquito, and bade him call the scattered Faeries all about her. So they came every one about the dandelion throne, and the herald of the Queen--the Fly in his blue coat, made proclamation that a child had been born and that it was a rare thing, and an excellent fortune both to Faeries and to the child, that it would be born upon the first day of the year. "Wherefore," he concluded, "let all the Faeries here gathered proceed as before and accompany the Queen to the place where the child lies, and let the gifts that have been brought to the Queen be carried by trusty servants."

So they set out as before in exactly the same order, except that the House-Faeries and the Sea-Faeries were not there. The Daddy-long-legs cleared the way to the door of the house, and the band of Crickets played their sweetest air--'twas the Birth of the Daisy in fact. Arrived at the door the Daddy-long-legs took their place in lines upon each side of the step, and the Cricket band sate upon the sc.r.a.per, for these might not enter. But the Faeries preceded by their Queen did enter, and their gifts went with them. They came into the room where little Janet lay.

The House-Faeries were already there with hushed movements and ordering everything about the room. Around the bed gathered the hosts of Faeries--even the Faeries of the stream were there, a little drier than usual, though the House-Faeries made them keep on the outer circle.

The Queen was in the centre directly over little Janet. She bent nearer and nearer until she stood upon the forehead. She touched it with her lips, and that was the seal by which she signified that the newborn child of New-Year's Day was to be gifted with all that Faeries could give. The gifts which the Queen had received that night were freely offered to the little child. They were laid at her feet. None there saw them for none but the Faeries and the child could know of them. Each Faery, too, in the fulness of love and joy offered other gifts directly from their own nature; the Gypsy Faeries were very generous. They withdrew then and the Queen was left alone. She had her gift yet to bestow. "All of these," said she, "have richly endowed this child of New-Years Day." She looked at the gifts and knew that there was one thing wanting, yet she dreaded to bestow it. "It must be," she murmured, and kissing once more the brow of the child, dropped a tear upon it.

Then she too left. The gifts were complete but the Queen was sad.

"She is a child of earth," she said, as she turned away; "it must be so."

The festivities of the day were finished and all was quiet in the Garden. The moon now rose and soon its light touched the Lilac Bush. At the touch the sweet perfume of the Lilac rose like a cloud of incense from the Bush. The air was filled with it, but the Bush was now deserted. "It was a great gift," it said, "that I should be permitted to have so much enjoyment. I am indeed happy, though twelve long months must pa.s.s before I bloom again, and these blossoms now upon me have lost their fragrance and shall fall to the ground. Yes, it is sweet to live, even though one's flowers die and one's fragrance is lost."

But the fragrance was not lost. It rose higher and higher; the clouds kept it not back and it ascended even to heaven.

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Horace E. Scudder

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