THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY CHEER: 180+ Novels, Tales & Poems in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Лаймен Фрэнк Баум
and, ducking down, he crept very cleverly into the hollow, and after a moment his voice was heard, though in rather muffled tones, calling out 'all right.' Rollo, not liking to seem backward, went next, and Maia, who was secretly trembling, was much comforted by hearing him exclaim, 'Oh, how beautiful!' and when Silva asked her to go next, saying 'Maia might like to know she was behind her,' she plunged valiantly into the dark hole. She groped with her hands for a moment or two, till the boys' voices a little way above her led her to a short flight of steps, which she easily climbed up, and then a soft light broke on her eyes, and she understood why Rollo had called out, 'Oh, how beautiful!'
They stood at the entrance of a long passage, quite wide enough for two to walk abreast comfortably. It was entirely lined and carpeted with moss, and the light came from the roof, though how one could not tell, for it too was trellised over with another kind of creeping plant, growing too thickly for one to see between. The moss had a sweet fresh fragrance that reminded the children of the scent of their other world flowers, and it was, besides, deliciously soft and yet springy to walk upon.
Waldo and Rollo came running back to meet the little girls, for Silva had quickly followed Maia.
'Isn't this a nice place?' said Rollo, jumping up and down as he spoke. 'We might run races here all the afternoon.'
'Yes; but we must hasten on,' said Silva. 'They're expecting us, you know. But we can run races all the same, for we've a good way along here to go. You and Waldo start first, and then Maia and I.'
So they did, and never was there a race pleasanter to run. They felt as if they had wings on their feet, they went so fast and were so untired. The moss gallery resounded with their laughter and merry cries, though their footfalls made no sound on the floor.
'What was the pattering we heard after Waldo knocked?' asked Maia suddenly.
'It was the squirrels overhead. They all have to run together to pull open the door,' said Silva. 'The rope goes up to their hall. But you will see it all for yourself now. This is the end of the gallery.'
'This' was a circular room, moss-lined like the passage, with a wide round hole in the roof, from which, as the children stood waiting, descended a basket, fitted with moss cushions, and big enough to hold all of them at once. In they got, and immediately the basket rose up again and stopped at what, in a proper house, one would call the next floor. And even before it stopped a whole mass of brown heads were to be seen eagerly watching for it, and numbers of little brown paws were extended to help the visitors to step out.
'Good-day, good-day,' squeaked a multitude of shrill voices; 'welcome to Squirrel-Land. We have been watching for you ever so long, since the pigeon brought the news. And the supper is all ready. The acorn cakes smelling so good and the chestnut pasties done to a turn.'
'Thank you, thank you, Mrs. Bushy!' said Silva. 'I am sure they will be excellent. But first, I must introduce our friends and you to each other. Maia and Rollo, this is Mrs. Bushy,' and as she said so the fattest and fussiest of the squirrels made a duck with its head and a flourish with its tail, which were meant for the most graceful of curtsies. 'Mr. Bushy——' she stopped and looked round.
'Alas! my dear husband is very lame with his gout to-day,' said Mrs. Bushy. 'He took too much exercise yesterday. I'm sure if he went once to the top of the tree he went twenty times—he is so active, you know; so he's resting in the supper-room; but you'll see him presently. And here are my dear children, Miss Silva. Stand forward, my dears, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Do look at their tails—though I say it that shouldn't, did you ever see such tails?' and Mrs. Bushy's bright eyes sparkled with maternal pride. 'There they are, all nine of them: Nibble, Scramble, Bunchy, Friskit, and Whiff, my dear boys; and Clamberina, Fluffy, Tossie, and sweet little Curletta, my no less beloved daughters.'
Whereupon each one of the nine, who had collected in a row, made the same duck with its head and flourish with its tail as Mrs. Bushy, though, of course, with somewhat less perfection of style and finish than their dear mamma.
'Such manners, such sweet manners!' she murmured confidentially to Silva and Maia.
Maia was by this time nearly choking with laughter—'Though I say it that shouldn't say it, I am sure you young ladies must be pleased with their sweet manners.'
'Very pleased, dear Mrs. Bushy,' said Silva; 'I'm sure they've learned to duck their heads and wave their tails beautifully.'
'Beautifully,' said Maia, at which Mrs. Bushy looked much gratified.
'And shall we proceed to supper, then?' she said. 'I am sure you must be hungry.'
'Yes, I think we are,' said Waldo; 'and I know your chestnut cakes are very good, Mrs. Bushy.'
Rollo and Maia looked at each other. Chestnuts were very nice, but what would chestnut cakes be like? Besides, it wasn't the season for chestnuts; they must be very old and stale.
'How can you have chestnuts now?' asked Maia. Mrs. Bushy looked at her patronisingly.
'Ah, to be sure,' she said, 'the young lady does not know all about our magic preserving cupboards, and all the newest improvements. To be sure, it is her first visit to Squirrel-Land,' she added encouragingly; 'we can make allowance. Now, lead the way, my dears, lead the way,' she said to her nine treasures, who thereupon set off with a rush, jumping and frisking and scuttering along, till Maia could hardly help bursting out laughing again, while she and Silva and Rollo and Waldo followed them into the supper-room, where, at the end of a long narrow table, covered with all sorts of queer-looking dishes, decorated with fern leaves, Papa Bushy, in a moss arm-chair, his tail comfortably waving over him like an umbrella, was already installed.
'I beg your pardon, my dear young friends,' he began, in a rather deeper, though still squeaky voice, 'for receiving you like this. Mrs. Bushy will have made my apologies. This unfortunate attack of gout! I am, I fear, too actively inclined, and have knocked myself up!'
'Ah, yes,' said Mrs. Bushy, shaking her head; 'I'm sure if Mr. Bushy goes once a day to the top of the tree, he goes twenty times.'
'But what does he go for if it makes him ill?' exclaimed Maia.
Mrs. Bushy looked at her and gasped, Mr. Bushy shut his eyes and waved his paws about as if to say, 'We must excuse her, she knows no better,' and all the young Bushys ducked their heads and squeaked faintly,—evidently Maia had said something very startling. At last, when she had to some extent recovered her self-control, Mrs. Bushy said faintly, looking round her for sympathy:
'Poor child! Such deplorable ignorance; but we must excuse it. Imagine her not knowing—imagine any one not knowing what would happen if Mr. Bushy did not go to the top of the tree!'
'What would happen?' said Maia, not sure if she felt snubbed or not, but not inclined to give in all at once.
'My poor child,' said Mrs. Bushy, in the most solemn tone her squeaky voice was capable of, 'the world would stop!'
Maia stared at her, but what she was going to say I cannot tell you, for Silva managed to give her a little pinch, as a sign that she had better make no more remarks, and Mrs. Bushy, feeling that she had done her duty, requested everybody to take their places at table. The dishes placed before them were so comical-looking that Rollo and Maia did not know what to reply when asked what they would have.
'An apple, if you please!' said Maia, catching sight at last of something she knew the name of. But when Mrs. Bushy pressed her to try a chestnut cake she did not like to refuse, and seeing that Waldo and Silva were careful to eat like the squirrels, holding up both hands together like paws to their mouths, she and Rollo did the same, which evidently gave the Bushy family a better opinion of the way in which they had been brought up. The chestnut cakes were rather nice, but poor Rollo, having ventured on some fried acorns which smelt good, could not help pulling a very wry face. Supper, however, was soon over, and then Waldo and Silva asked leave very politely to go 'up the tree,' which in squirrel language was much the same as if they had asked to go out to the garden, and Mrs. Bushy, with many excuses for not accompanying them on account of her household cares, and Mr. Bushy, pleading his gout, told her nine