“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. “IfIserve my country,youmust 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 havebeen 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. “ButI 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 famousrêverie, ‘Dreamings of a Drum,’ whilst I perform mypas 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 amsuffering 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; heknows how to handle the bayonet.”
“You are right,” answered the Rabbit, andwalked 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 theRabbit’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 hismisdeeds, 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.
Here the little Marionette paused.
“That is all,” she said.
“What a good thing that the Mouse had his head bitten off,” said the little girl thoughtfully.
“It was just as well,” the Marionette answered, “since he could use it to no better purpose.”
“Some of the toys were very wicked in that story, I think; dreadfully wicked.”
“I think the same. They were bad, wicked toys, with bad, wicked ways.”
“Are many of the toys you know as wicked as that?” asked Molly.
“Oh, dear no!” said the little Marionette, quite shocked. “Most of my friends and acquaintances are really wonderfully well-behaved.”
“Do you know, I should like you next time to tell me about one of them.”
“About some one simple, perhaps?”
“Yes, I think so.”
The little Marionette thought a moment.
Then she said: “I know of no one more simple than Belinda.”
“Tell me about her, if you please.”
“Very good. You shall hear of Belinda and her simplicity.”
So the next day she told her friend the story of
“Belinda.”
Belinda was a little wax doll who had a most charming way of opening and shutting her eyes. When Mortals were about, she could not do it unless they helped by pulling a wire. But when once the shop was closed, and the toys, left to themselves, could move at pleasure,thenBelinda pulled her own wires and opened and shut her eyes as she pleased. She did this in so simple and unaffected a fashion that it delighted everyone to see her.
“What simplicity! what delightful simplicity!” said the other toys. “’Tis really charming!”
“Singularly simple,” repeated the Butcher, who always stood at the door of his shop, watching for the customers that so seldom came. “She is like an innocent lamb,” he added, his thoughts turning to his trade; “a simple, harmless lamb.”
“Elle est très gentille, la petite Belinde,” remarked Mademoiselle Cerise, the French doll just arrived from Paris. “Elle est une jeune fille fort bien élevée; elle ferme les yeux d’une façon vraiment ravissante.”
“Here we are again, Simplicity and Self!” said the Clown, turning a somersault and landing by Belinda’s side with a broad grin upon his face.
She made no reply, but instantly closed her eyes. She was not quite sure but that he was laughing at her, so she thought it more prudent not to see him.
“There! did you notice?” ... “Wasn’t it pretty and simple?” said all the Toys to one another as they looked at Belinda.
I must, however, make an exception when I say “all” the Toys. There was one who did not utter a word. This was Jack, the curly-headed Sailor-Boy, who was deeply in love with Belinda. He was so unhappy about the matter that he feared to speak of her lest in so doing the thought of his sorrow should make him shed unmanly tears in public.
I will tell you the cause of his grief. He could not make her see how much he loved her. Whenever he came near her she immediately closed her eyes. So that it did not matter what expression he assumed, it was all wasted on Belinda. He worried himself about it very much.
“Is it,” said he to himself, “because she doesn’t happen to see, or because she doesn’t wish to see? How can I make her open her eyes? Shall I speak to her coldly or gently, with mirth or with melancholy, in poetry or in prose?”
“I will be poetical,” he resolved; “I will sing her a song of love. That may induce her to open her eyes.”
Now Jack was only a simple Sailor-Lad; he knew little music and less poetry. A few sea-songs and one or two little ballads, these were all he had to trust to, and he could think of none that seemed suitable to the occasion.
He thought long, and finally rememberedthe beginning of an old song which, with a little alteration, would, he decided, do very well. So, in a rough but tender voice, he thus sang to his lady-love:—
“Of all the girls I love so well,There’s none I love like ’Linder;She is the darling of my heart,—And Linder rhymes with cinder.”
“This,” he said to himself, “will teach her how deep and how true my love is for her.Thisshould open her eyes.”
But Belinda, quite unmoved, sat with them tightly closed.
“I will try again,” he said to himself. And he sang the verse once more, though this time his voice shook so greatly with emotion that he was obliged to stop in the middle in order to steady it.
After this he sat silent, hoping that Belinda would even now open her eyes.
“Then,” said he, “she will see how sad I look, and she will surely be touched.”
But disappointment was again his lot. She never opened even half an eye.
“Shiver my timbers!” said the luckless Sailor-Lad, “she’ll be the death of me.”
And he went away mournfully whistling “The Death of Nelson.”
Then he tried to startle her by suddenly shouting within her hearing a few seafaring expressions he knew. “Hard-a-port! Lay aft! Yo, heave ho!”
She half-opened her eyes, but immediately closed them again. “Those expressions sound a little rough,” she remarked.
He felt sorely tried.
“None so blind as those whowon’tsee, my lass,” he said one day.
“I should have thought,” she answered with unaffected surprise, “it was those whocan’tsee.”
“Have you looked up through the sky-lightthis afternoon?” he asked. “The sunset is glorious.”
“Describe it to me. I love descriptions,” she said with simple enthusiasm.
“You had better see it for yourself,” he said crossly and turned away. He felt so wretched that really he would have liked to go to sea.
He sighed again,—and looked back at Belinda. Why, her eyes were open! He hurried over to her, pinching with great energy his arm as he went, in order to make himself tearful, and thus, if possible, appear more miserable than he already did. The tears did come, but just as he got to Belinda she closed her eyes once more.
“The sunset is indeed perfect,” she said, “I have been watching it till my eyes ache, and I cannot keep them open any longer.”
“I look just as if I had a cold in my head. You can see that for yourself, can’t you?” he asked, hoping that this question would induce her to glance at him and observe his tears.
“Why, no,” she answered, “I can’t because my eyes are closed. But if you say so, I suppose you must be correct.”
“Belinda, I love you,” said he.
“Thank you very much,” answered she. “Isn’t it extraordinary weather for this time ofthe year? I can hardly believe that we are in the middle of summer.”
Poor Jack left in despair, and this time he whistled a funeral march.
But like a true-hearted sailor, he resolved to try again. So the next day he said to her:
“Belinda, I’m afraid we are going to have heavy weather, there are so many clouds overhead. Look up out of the sky-light and you will see for yourself.”
“I would rather not,” she said, keeping her eyes tightly closed. “I don’t like seeing clouds; it depresses my spirits.”
“You can look out of the sky-lightnow,” he said to her later, “without being afraid of seeing the clouds. They have all cleared away and it is blue again.”
“Then I can enjoy my afternoon nap,” she remarked simply, “without fear of thunder.”
And on this occasion the poor curly-headed Sailor felt too miserable even to attempt whistling; he went away in dumb despair!
It was just about this time that Mademoiselle Cerise was bought by a lady as a present for her little god-daughter.
“But the color of the doll’s dress has become faded,” said the lady. “She must have a new one before I take her.”
“That can easily be arranged in a day,” said the owner of the shop.
“Very well,” answered the lady, “then I will buy her. You need not send her. I will bring my little friend with me to-morrow afternoon when we shall be passing your shop. She will like to carry her new doll through the streets.”
Next morning when Mademoiselle Cerise was brought back to the shop after having been absent since the previous afternoon, the Sailor-Lad was struck by something very familiar about the appearance of her new blue muslin dress. At first he could not think why. Then he understood; the muslin was—so it seemed to him—of exactly the same patternand exactly the same color as Belinda’s dress.
As he realized this a sudden thought struck him, upon which he acted without delay.
Coming up to Belinda softly, who was sitting with her eyes closed, he exclaimed loudly and suddenly in her ear: “Belinda, Belinda! Mademoiselle Cerise has on a dress precisely like yours!”
“No!” she said, and opened her eyes in a moment. She gazed around anxiously for Mademoiselle Cerise, but the Sailor-Boy placed himself right before her and looked at her as adoringly as he knew how.
“Oh, Belinda,” he said, “how I love you!”
“Do you?” said she with great surprise. “Well, you don’t love me more than I love you.”
“You make me very happy, my lass,” said he. “But why are you astonished at my saying I love you? Have I not told you so before?”
“I thought you were quizzing,” she answered.
“The sad expression of my face should have told you I was not quizzing,” he replied.
“How could I tell what your expression was when I never saw it?” she asked with some reproach.
“You did not see it because you always closed your eyes when I spoke to you,” he replied. “What made you do that?”
Belinda thought a moment
“It was merely a habit I had fallen into,” said she.
“You should never become a slave to a habit,” replied the curly-headed Sailor-Lad. He spoke reprovingly, as he thought of his many heart-aches.
She did not like to be reproved, so she changed the subject.
“You made a mistake,” she said. “Mademoiselle Cerise’s dress is very pretty, but it is notpreciselylike mine; the pattern is larger and a little louder, and the color is lighter and a little harsher.”
“Well, perhaps,” said the Sailor-Lad. Hespoke very cheerful now, he felt in such good spirits.
“I am very glad that the Sailor-Boy was happy at last,” said the little girl. “I was afraid Belinda never meant to open her eyes.”
“It certainly looked like it at one time,” answered the little Marionette. “However, it was all right in the end, for she opened them in time to prevent her Sailor-Boy’s heart from breaking.”
“I wonder why she kept them closed so long.”
“I wonder,” reflected the little Marionette. And she smiled.
“Force of habit, I suppose, as she herself said,” she remarked after a pause. “We all have our little ways. Now what sort of story would you like to-morrow?”
The little girl thought deeply for a fewmoments. Then she said: “You have told me a story about a sailor, so I should like the next one to be about a soldier.”
“A soldier—a soldier—” the Marionette answered. “I don’t think I know one about a soldier—Yes, stay; there is the story of the Officer and the Elephant. That is about a soldier.”
“An Officer and an Elephant! How nice!” exclaimed the little girl eagerly. “I am quite certain it must be very funny.”
“I don’t think the Officer found it so,” the little lady replied, giving a sweet, little tinkling laugh.
“Didn’t he?” asked her listener with much interest.
“I wish you would tell me all about it now,” she continued; “I want so much to hear it.”
“Not now,” replied the little Marionette, “it is getting too late; all the animals in the Noah’s Ark are fast asleep. Listen, they are snoringloudly. Come to-morrow at the same time. Be punctual, for the story is a long one.”
“Yes, I will,” promised the little girl.
The next day she was as good as her word, arriving to the very minute. It was the little Marionette who was not in time. It was quite five minutes before she tripped up the counter and greeted her little friend. The little girl looked at her with some reproach.
“It isyouwho are late, not I,” she said.
“Is it?” replied the little Marionette. “Well, Iamashamed. However, here I am now, so I will begin at once to tell you my tale.”
And settling herself down, and smoothing out her beautiful brocade dress, she began without further ado, the story of:
“The Officer and the Elephant.”
Amongst all the Toys in the toy-shop, none were so disliked and feared as the twelve Wooden Soldiers who, with an imposing Officer at their head, proudly faced the world in double file.
In the first place, they were intensely proud and vain. They showed this in everything they did. For example, their drill was of the most simple description. It merely consisted in their moving backwards and forwards from one another on a platform of sticks, which could be drawn out or in at pleasure.
This, it will easily be believed, required nogreat skill or knowledge. Yet, to judge from the pride expressed upon the faces of the Wooden Soldiers as they went through this simple movement, one would have certainly imagined it was exceedingly difficult.
Their foolish pride was also displayed in their manner towards others. No one ventured to ask them even the most civil of questions for fear of receiving a rude answer. Father Christmas one afternoon happened to inquire at the Commanding-officer what time it was.
“Time,” he replied, “for little boys to be in bed.”
“You might,” said the patriarch gravely, “have shown a little respect for the length of my beard and the whiteness of my hairs. ’Tis hardly the way to speak to a man of my years and standing. One, too, who with the decline of the year expects to be at the top of the tree.”
But the Officer merely laughed loudly and shrugged his shoulders.
From this instance, which is only one exampleof many, you will easily understand how the Wooden Soldiers came to be disliked in the toy-shop.
As for the fear they inspired, this was partly owing to the long swords they wore, and partly owing to the boasting way in which they vowed they could use them.
“My men and I really command the whole shop,” said the Officer one day. “Moreover, who faces one, faces all, for we all march in the same direction. We not only have our good swords, but we know how to use them. They are sheathed now, but let no one count upon that to offend us. Let but a foolhardy toy dare insult us, and—” here he gave the word of command, and instantly a dozen and one swords sprang from their scabbards.
The lady Dolls shrieked, the Grocer and the Butcher began to put up their shutters with trembling hands; the white, furry Rabbit became a shade whiter; and the corners of the Clown’s mouth dropped instead of going up asusual. It was plain that a general panic was felt.
The only Toy that did not appear to be affected was the great gray Elephant lately arrived. He twisted his trunk round thoughtfully, but never changed countenance.
The Officer saw the general terror he had inspired, and both he and his Soldiers were well pleased.
“Besides,” he continued, speaking more loudly than before, “if our swords fail us we shall have recourse to gunpowder, which will make short work of our enemies.”
The Elephant looked at the Officer and his men.
“I don’t see it,” he said bluntly.
“I didn’t suppose you would,” said the Officer scornfully. “Don’t speak in such a hurry. The powder I’m speaking of is felt but not seen. It’s our last improvement, arrived at by slow degrees. Gunpowder,—smokeless gunpowder,—soundless gunpowder,—invisible gunpowder. Thus we may surround an enemy with enough gunpowder to blow up a town, but they neither see it nor hear it. In fact, they know nothing about it until they are blown up.”
This time all the Toys nearly expired with fright! The Elephant only remained, as before, unmoved.
“Invisible gunpowder is more humane in the end,” the Officer continued. “You are quite unaware of what is happening until you find yourself in pieces.”
“The same thing may happen to yourself, Isuppose?” asked the Elephant, in his heavy and clumsy fashion.
“Beg pardon; did anyone speak?” inquired the Officer in the most insulting of voices. For he despised the Elephant and wished to snub him.
“I asked you if the same might not happen to yourself?” the Elephant repeated, regardless of the Officer’s attempt to make him appearfoolish. “What if the enemy serves you the same way?”
“That difficulty, my good beast,” he answered in his most overbearing manner, “is easily disposed of. We have special Soldiers trained tosmellgunpowder. We have merely to send out these scouts, and we can trace the gunpowder anywhere within gunshot.”
“I don’t believe it,” said the Elephant.
The Officer at this laughed a grim laugh, truly awful to hear.
“Ha, Ha!” he exclaimed; “do not provoke me too far lest I slay you with my sword. I’m a man of sport, and to do the act would cause me no little diversion. Beware!”
The Elephant made no reply, which induced the Officer to think he had frightened him.
“A great clumsy beast of no spirit,” he said to his Soldiers.
“Right, sir,” answered the Soldiers.
“Now to drill,” he continued sharply.“Attention! Eyes right, eyes left; right movement, left movement; swords out, swords in! Mark—time!”
This last command they were obliged to obey with their heads, their feet being tightly gummed on to the platform. So tightly gummed that they could not get free even when Mortals were not present, and all the Toys were at liberty to speak, walk, and talk. Indeed, nothing but a strong blow could possibly loosen them from their position.
Therefore, when they marched or even took a simple walk they were obliged to march or walk in a body, taking the platform with them. Again, if the Commanding-officer granted leave of absence to one, he was obliged to grant it to all, even to himself, otherwise no one could have taken it.
“Come,” said the Officer to the Elephant one day, “you are a bright beast. Let me propound you a mathematical problem. If aherring and a half cost three halfpence, how much would six herrings cost?”
“Just as much as they ought to, if you went to an honest fishmonger,” answered the Elephant.
The Officer and his men laughed loudly.
“Capital, capital!” said the bully. “If you distinguish yourself in this way we shall have to make you Mathematical Instructor-in-General to the whole army.”
But the Elephant made no reply.
“That’s the thickest-skinned animal I ever met,” said the Officer to his men.
But herein he made a mistake. The Elephant never forgot an insult, but paid it back upon the first opportunity.
The opportunity, in this case, was not long in arriving; it came, indeed, all too soon for the Officer’s taste.
It occurred in this way.
One day a little boy came into the shop and asked to look at some soldiers, uponwhich the shopwoman showed him the wooden warriors.
“No, I don’t like them,” he said; “they have to move all the same way at once. It is very stupid of them. Have you no others?”
“Not just at the moment,” replied the shopwoman. “We are expecting some more. They should have been here several days ago.”
“Then I’ll take a train,” said the boy. “But it is very funny that you should have such a poor lot of soldiers as these.”
“That silly remark will make the Toys less afraid of us,” thought the Officer to himself with some alarm. “I shall make the men practise sword-drill in the most open fashion for several hours. This will remind the world that we are not to be trifled with.”
But it is one thing to make a resolution and quite another thing to carry it into effect. This the Officer was to experience ere the day was over.
For in putting the Soldiers back into their place the shopwoman happened to hit the Officer with some force against a dolls’ house. Being a very hard blow it knocked him off the platform, and, unnoticed by her, he fell on his back upon the counter.
Now came the time for the Elephant’s revenge.The Officer fell just under the animal’s trunk!
It was, as the Officer at once realized, by no means a pleasant situation. As his men were some yards away from him, and unable to come in a body to his rescue till perhaps too late, the Officer was exceedingly uneasy.
“I had better soothe the monster,” he said to himself. Then aloud, and in a pleasant voice: “What a nice handy trunk that is of yours; you must be able to carry so much in it? As for me, I have to travel with a portmanteau, a Gladstone-bag, a hat-box, and a gun-case; it is a terrible nuisance.”
He paused, but the Elephant made no reply.
“This is not very pleasant,” said the Officer uneasily to himself. “I fear the beast is of a sulky temper. Whatwillhappen to me?”
And he lay still, trembling and fearful.
At last the day closed in, the Mortals shutup the shop and left, and the time of the Toys arrived.
The Elephant then addressed the Officer in a slow voice and ponderous manner.
“I feel inclined to trample on you,” he remarked.
The Officer closed his eyes with terror; then, half-opening them, he endeavored to look defiantly and speak boldly.
“Pre-pre-sump-tu-tu-ous b-b-b-beast!” he faltered.
The Elephant looked at him threateningly.
“It was on-on-ly my f-f-un!” stammered the Officer, trembling with fear, and all the crimson fading from his cheeks.
“Do you wish me to spare your life?” asked the Elephant.
“It is very valuable,” the Officer replied more calmly as he regained courage, and unable to forget his foolish pride even in that awful moment.
“The world can do without it,” said the great beast threateningly.
“Spare me!” cried the coward and bully.
The Elephant paused.
“Very good,” he answered, “but only upon my own conditions.”
“Certainly, certainly,” the Officer said in a fawning voice. “Many thanks; any conditions that you may think proper.”
After this the Elephant thought for a long while. Then he said:
“These are my conditions. You must submit to let me carry you up and down the counter, stopping before such Toys as I shall see fit. And whenever I stop, you are to announce yourself in these words: ‘Good-evening. Have you kicked the coward and the bully? The real genuine article, no imitation. If you have not kicked him already, kick him without delay.’”
“It is too bad of you to require me to say this,” the Officer cried, his anger for themoment overcoming his fear. “But then you are not a gentleman. You are—”
“When you have done,” interrupted the Elephant, “I will begin.”
So saying, and amidst the intense excitement of the other Toys, the Elephant, with his trunk, slowly picked up his fallen foe by the back of the coat and began his ponderous march—so triumphant for himself, so humiliating for the Officer.
The programme was carried out exactly as the Elephant had said it should be, for the great gray beast was a beast of his word. He never made up his mind in a foolish hurry, but having made it up he rarely altered it.
And so it was upon this occasion. After every few steps the huge creature stopped before one or another of the Toys, when the former tyrant was obliged to announce himself as a coward and a bully, and invite a kicking, an invitation which was always accepted, and acted upon with much heartiness.
Finally the avenger laid the Officer on the platform, from which the Wooden Soldiers had been watching with amazement and horror the journey of the Commanding-officer; understanding as they did for the first time the strength of the great beast and afraid to interfere.
Having placed his humble foe in his old position, only upon his back instead of upon his feet, the Elephant with his trunk deliberately knocked over all the Soldiers one after the other. Then he grunted and walked slowly away.
So ended the reign of terror which the Officer and his Soldiers had established over the toy-shop. And so universal was the relief experienced after the strain that had been felt, that the Elephant was everywhere hailed as a Friend to the Public. Indeed, during the remainder of his stay in the shop, he was treated with greater respect and deference than any other toy,—Father Christmas only excepted,—andwhen he left at Christmas-time, the regret expressed was both loud and sincere.