THE RED ELF

THE RED ELF

FAERYLAND lies between the Kingdom of the Shadows and the Country of the Giants. If you want to reach it you must sail across the Sea of Darkness, which rolls everlastingly round these three strange places, and separates them from our world. Then you journey first through the Giants’ Country, the inhabitants of which are very like ourselves, only larger and fiercer, with very little spiritual nature in their enormous bodies; afterwards you pass into Faeryland, where the elves are bright, graceful creatures, who possess forms like ours, and not a little of our nature. Beyond lies the strange Kingdom of Shadows, where dwell things which have very little in common with our earth; they are the shadows of the past and the future, of what has been, and what yet shall be. Mortals have strayed by chance intothe Giants’ Country, and in old stories we are told they have lived in Faeryland, but no living man or woman has ever seen the Kingdom of Shadows, nor will they ever see it during life.

Now, the Faeries, being afraid of the Shadows, never enter their kingdom, but they also never enter the Country of the Giants, because they despise them very much as being lower than themselves, much the same as we look down upon the uncivilised savages of Africa. Oberon, who, as you know, is the King of Faery, made a law that no elf should ever go into the Giants’ Country, being afraid lest the faeries should learn things there which would bring evil on his own land. So when the faeries want to visit our earth, they do not cross the Giants’ Country, but come in another way which is known only to themselves. Having thus explained how these three countries lie, I will now tell you of a naughty elf who, disobeying the King’s command, lost himself in the Giants’ Country, and of the difficulty he had in getting back to Faeryland.

The elf’s name was Gillydrop, a beautiful little creature all dressed in clothes of a pale green tint, which is the favourite colour of the faeries, as every one knows who has seen them dance in the moonlight. Now Gillydrop was full of curiosity, which is a very bad thing, as it leads people into a great deal of trouble, and although he had never bothered his head about the Giants’ Country before, as soon as he heard the proclamation of Oberon he immediately determined to see for himself what the giants were like. Do you not think this was a very naughty thing for him to do? it certainly was, but he was punished for his disobedience, as all naughty people are sooner or later.

He spoke to two or three faeries in order to get them tojoin him, but they would not disobey the King’s command, and advised him to give up his foolish idea.

“The King is very wise,” they said, “and no doubt he has a good reason for not letting us visit the Giants’ Country, so you ought to do as he tells you.”

“I don’t care,” replied naughty Gillydrop; “I’m sure there is something in the Giants’ Country the King does not want us to know, and I am determined to find out what it is.”

So, in spite of all warnings, he spread his beautiful wings, which were spotted silver and blue, like a white-clouded sky, and flew away through the woods. It was night-time, for, of course, that is the faeries’ day, but the way to Giants’ Country was so long that by the time he reached the end of the forest, and came to the boundary of Faeryland, the red dawn was breaking, so he crept into the bosom of a rose, and, after getting a honey supper from a friendly bumble-bee, curled himself up to sleep.

All through the long day, while the sun was high in the blue sky, he slept, lulled by the swaying of the flower, which rocked like a cradle, and soothed by the whisper of the wind and the buzzing of the bees as they hummed round his rose-house.

At last the weary, hot day came to an end, the silver moon arose in the dark blue sky, the wind sighing through the forest made the delicate leaves tremble with its cool breath, and the elf awoke. He left the kind rose, which had sheltered him in her golden heart from the heat of the day, and flew towards the rippling stream which lies on the confines of Faeryland. Awayin the distance, he could hear the murmuring laughter of the faeries, as they danced to the sound of elfin music, but he was too anxious to get into the Giants’ Country to trouble himself about his old friends.

Just as he was about to cross the boundary, the leaves of the Faery forest sighed out the word “Beware!” but, not heeding the warning, he flew across the stream, and found himself at last in the terrible country where dwelt the foolish giants and the evil ogres. As he alighted upon an enormous daisy, which was as large as a mushroom, a voice rang out from Faeryland, full and clear, like the sound of a beautiful bell:

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,

Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

And so when Gillydrop looked back, he saw no green banks, no tall trees, no beautiful flowers, but only a wide grey ocean sleeping in sullen stillness under the cold light of the moon.

He was now flying over a dreary waste plain, with great circles of upright stones standing here and there, and a bitter cold wind blowing shrilly across the flat country towards the sullen grey sea. Had he not been able to fly, he would never have crossed the plain, because the grass stood up like mighty spears, and the furze bushes were like great trees. On every side he saw immense mountains, blue in the distance, lifting their snowy summits to the clouds, with great trees at their foot looking like enormous hills of leaves. There were no birds flying in the cold air, and no animals crawling on the bleak earth; everything seemed dead and silent, except the wind,which moaned through the mighty trees like the roaring of oceans.

There are no towns in Giantland, because the giants are not very fond of one another, and prefer to live by themselves in lonely castles among the mountains. Gillydrop knew this, but, although he looked on every side, he could see no sign of any castle, until at last he suddenly came on one which was quite in ruins, and so tumbled down that no one could possibly dwell in it. He flew on, feeling rather afraid, and came to another castle, also in ruins, with a huge white skeleton lying at the foot of a high tower, which was no doubt the skeleton of the giant who had lived there.

Then he found a third, a fourth, a fifth castle, all deserted and in ruins. It seemed as though all the giants were dead, and Gillydrop, in despair at the sight of such desolation, was about to fly back to Faeryland, when he suddenly thought of the voice which had said:

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

“Never more come back you need,

Till you’ve done some kindly deed.”

Poor Gillydrop was now in a dreadful plight, and, folding his weary wings, he dropped to the ground, where he sat in the hollow of a buttercup, which was like a large golden basin, and wept bitterly. He could never return to Faeryland until he had done some kindly deed, but, as there was no one to whom he could do a good deed, he did not see how he could perform any, so cried dreadfully at the thought of living for evermore in the desolate Giants’ Country. So you see what his disobedience had brought him to, for, instead of dancingmerrily with his friends in the Forest of Faeryland, he was seated, a poor, lonely little elf, in a dreary, dreary land, with no one to comfort him.

While he was thus weeping, he heard a sound like distant thunder; but, as there were no clouds in the sky, he knew it could not be thunder.

“It must be a giant roaring,” said Gillydrop, drying his eyes with a cobweb. “I’ll go and ask him where all his friends have gone.”

So he flew away in the direction from whence came the sound, and speedily arrived at a great grey castle, with many towers and battlements, perched on the top of a very high hill. At its foot rolled the Sea of Darkness, and round the tall towers the white mists were wreathed like floating clouds. There was a wide road winding up the steep sides of the rock to the castle door, which was as high as a church; but Gillydrop, having wings, did not use the road, so flew right into the castle through an open window.

The giant, whose name was Dunderhead, sat at one end of a large hall, cutting slices of bread from an enormous loaf which lay on the table in front of him. He looked thin,—very, very thin,—as though he had not had a good dinner for a long time; and he thumped the table with the handle of his knife as he sang this song, taking a large bit of bread between every verse:

Oh, if my life grows harder,I’ll wish that I were dead!There’s nothing in the larderExcept this crust of bread.With hunger I am starving,And it would give me joyIf just now I was carvingA little girl or boy.I’ve drunk up all the coffee,I’ve eaten all the lamb,I’ve swallowed all the toffeeAnd finished all the jam.I want to get some plum-cake—I only wish I could;For if I can’t get some cakeI’ll die for want of food.

Oh, if my life grows harder,I’ll wish that I were dead!There’s nothing in the larderExcept this crust of bread.With hunger I am starving,And it would give me joyIf just now I was carvingA little girl or boy.I’ve drunk up all the coffee,I’ve eaten all the lamb,I’ve swallowed all the toffeeAnd finished all the jam.I want to get some plum-cake—I only wish I could;For if I can’t get some cakeI’ll die for want of food.

Oh, if my life grows harder,I’ll wish that I were dead!There’s nothing in the larderExcept this crust of bread.

Oh, if my life grows harder,

I’ll wish that I were dead!

There’s nothing in the larder

Except this crust of bread.

With hunger I am starving,And it would give me joyIf just now I was carvingA little girl or boy.

With hunger I am starving,

And it would give me joy

If just now I was carving

A little girl or boy.

I’ve drunk up all the coffee,I’ve eaten all the lamb,I’ve swallowed all the toffeeAnd finished all the jam.

I’ve drunk up all the coffee,

I’ve eaten all the lamb,

I’ve swallowed all the toffee

And finished all the jam.

I want to get some plum-cake—I only wish I could;For if I can’t get some cakeI’ll die for want of food.

I want to get some plum-cake—

I only wish I could;

For if I can’t get some cake

I’ll die for want of food.

Here Dunderhead stopped singing with a roar of pain, for while cutting himself some more bread, the knife slipped and gashed his hand in a most terrible manner. A great spout of blood gushed out like a torrent and settled into a dark red pool on the table, while the giant, roaring with anger, wrapped up his wounded hand in his handkerchief, which was as large as a tablecloth.

“What are you crying about, giant?” asked Gillydrop, who had perched himself on the table, where he sat, looking like a green beetle.

“I’ve cut my finger,” said the giant in a sulky tone; “you’d cry, too, if you cut your finger. Don’t call me a giant—my name is Mr. Dunderhead. What is your name?”

“Gillydrop. I’m a faery.”

“I thought you were a beetle,” said Dunderhead crossly. “What do you want here?”

“I’ve come to see the giants, Mr. Dunderhead,” replied Gillydrop.

“You won’t see any, then,” said Dunderhead, making a face. “They’re all dead except me. I’m the last of the giants. You see, we ate up every boy and girl that lived near us, and all the sheep, and all the cattle, until there was nothing left to eat; and as none of us could cross the Sea of Darkness, every one died except me, and I won’t live long—this loaf is all I’ve got to eat.”

“Perhaps if I do a kindly deed to Dunderhead by getting him a meal, I’ll be able to go back to Faeryland,” thought Gillydrop, as he listened to the giant’s story.

“Well, what are you thinking about?” growled Dunderhead, cutting himself another slice of bread.

“I was thinking how I could get you some food,” replied Gillydrop.

“What! you?” roared the giant; “a little thing like you get me food! Ha, ha, ha!” and he thumped the table with his great fist.

Now, as he did this, everything on the table jumped up with the shock, and so did Gillydrop, who had no time to spread his wings and prevent himself falling; so when he fell he came down splash into the pool of blood. He gave a cry of terror when he fell in, and after crawling out with some difficulty, he found his beautiful green clothes were all red, just as if he had been dipped in red ink.

The rude giant laughed heartily at the poor elf’s plight, but to Gillydrop it was no laughing matter, for there is nothing the faeries dislike so much as the colour red.

“Oh dear, dear, dear!” sighed Gillydrop, while the tears ran down his face; “now I’ll never go back to Faeryland.”

THE RUDE GIANT LAUGHED HEARTILY AT THE POOR ELF’S PLIGHT

THE RUDE GIANT LAUGHED HEARTILY AT THE POOR ELF’S PLIGHT

THE RUDE GIANT LAUGHED HEARTILY AT THE POOR ELF’S PLIGHT

“Why not?” asked Dunderhead, who was still eating.

“Because my clothes are red,” replied the elf ruefully; “no one who wears red clothes is allowed to live in Faeryland. Cannot I clean my clothes?”

“No,” answered the giant, taking a bit out of the loaf. “You are dyed red with my blood, and the only way to get your clothes green again is to wash them in my tears.”

“Oh, let me do it at once!” cried Gillydrop, jumping up and down with delight. “Do cry, Mr. Giant, please do.”

“I can’t cry when I’m told to,” growled Dunderhead; “but if you go to earth and bring me two nice fat children for supper, I’ll weep tears of joy, and then you can wash in my tears and become a green beetle again.”

“But how am I to bring the children here?” asked Gillydrop, who never thought of the poor children being eaten, but only how he could get his emerald suit once more.

“That’s your business,” growled Dunderhead crossly, for you see he had eaten all the loaf, and was still hungry. “I’m going to sleep, so if you want to clean your clothes, bring me the children, and you can wash in the tears of joy I shed.”

So saying, the giant leaned back in his chair and fell fast asleep, snoring so loudly that the whole room shook.

Poor Gillydrop, in his red clothes, spread his red wings, and, alighting on the beach of the Sea of Darkness, he wondered how he was to cross it, for he knew he was too feeble to fly all the way.

“Oh, I wish I hadn’t been naughty!” he said to himself. “I’ll never see my dear Faeryland again.”

And he cried red tears, which is a most wonderful thing,even for a faery to do. It was no use crying, however, for crying helps no one; so he looked about for a boat to carry him across the Sea of Darkness, but no boat could he see.

Gillydrop was almost in despair, when suddenly the sun arose in the east, and a broad shaft of yellow light shot across the Sea of Darkness like a golden bridge.

On seeing this, the Red Elf clapped his hands with glee, for, being a faery, he could easily run along a sunbeam; so, without waiting a moment, he jumped on to the broad golden path, and ran rapidly across the Sea of Darkness, which heaved in black billows below.

Asthe sun grew stronger, the beam shot farther and farther across the Sea of Darkness, until it quite bridged it over, and you may be sure Gillydrop ran as hard as ever he could, so as to reach earth quickly. It was lucky he did make haste, for, just as he alighted on a green lawn near a village, the sun hid himself behind a cloud, and of course the beam vanished.

Having thus arrived, Gillydrop began to look about for two naughty children to take to the Giants’ Country for Dunderhead’s supper. He was very tired, both with his journey across the Sea of Darkness, and with being up all day, which was just the same to him as staying up all night would be to us. As he was anxious to get back to Faeryland, there was no time to be lost, so, instead of going to sleep, he searched all through the village for two naughty children.

Now, in one of the pretty cottages there lived a poor widow, who had two children called Teddy and Tilly, of whom she was very fond, as they were all she had in the world to love. I am sorry to say, however, that Teddy and Tilly were not worthy of their mother’s love, for they were very naughty indeed, and never so happy as when engaged in some mischief. Dame Alice, for that was the name of the poor widow, tried very hard to improve them, but it was really a waste of time, for the harder she tried the worse they became. They tore their nice clean clothes, worried the cat, destroyed the flowers, ate up everything they could lay their hands on, and altogether were a great trouble to their poor mother, who often wondered why her children were so much worse than any one else’s. Dame Alice, however, had still some hope that they would improve, for, having a few friends among the faeries, she had learned that some day both Teddy and Tilly would receive a severe lesson, which would make them the best and most obedient children in the world.

There was a wood, not far from the village, which was said to be enchanted, and Teddy and Tilly were told never to enter it, but this command only made them the more anxious to disobey, and they constantly wandered about the wood, never thinking of the faeries, nor of anything else, except their own pleasure. On the day Gillydrop arrived, they had been in the wood all day, gathering nuts and chasing the squirrels. Now, as it was sundown, they were coming home to their supper, quarrelling dreadfully all the way, which was very naughty of them after spending a pleasant day.

Gillydrop heard them calling each other names, so hepeeped out from behind the leaf of a tree, where he was hidden, and, seeing their cross faces, he immediately guessed that they were two children who would do capitally for Dunderhead’s supper, so at once made up his mind how to act.

It was now night, and, as the faeries say, night is caused by the overflowing of the Sea of Darkness, which rises and rises when the sun goes down, until it rolls all over the earth, and any one abroad during the night is in danger of being lost in its black waves. At dawn, however, the sea subsides, and vanishes altogether when the sun appears; but when he sets in the west, it rises once more and spreads over the earth.

Gillydrop had brought with him a withered leaf from the Giants’ Country, which, being enchanted, would expand into a boat, and sail across the Sea of Darkness to the Giants’ Country, for, having come from there, it was bound to return to the tree upon which it had grown.

The Red Elf took this leaf out of his pocket, and immediately it spread out into a great brown carpet, which he placed under a tree in the darkest part, and then went away to entice the children on to it.

Teddy and Tilly came through the wood, quarrelling in a noisy manner, and calling each other ugly names; not a bit afraid of the dark, although they certainly ought to have been.

“You’re eating all the nuts,” bellowed Teddy.

“Well, I gathered them,” shrieked Tilly.

“No, you didn’t; I got most,” whimpered her brother crossly.

“Oh, you story! You didn’t,” retorted Tilly.

And then they called each other more ugly names, and fought and scratched until the whole wood resounded with their noise, and the birds trembled in their nests with fear.

Suddenly, in front of them, they saw a small red ball, glowing like a scarlet coal, and it kept dancing up and down like a restless will-o’-the-wisp.

“Oh, Teddy,” cried Tilly, “look at that pretty ball!”

“It’s mine!” roared greedy Teddy, rushing forward. “I’ll have it.”

“You shan’t!” cried Tilly, running after him. “I’ll get it.”

But the red ball—which was none other than Gillydrop—rolled and rolled in front of the children through the dark wood, and led them deeper and deeper into the forest, until it bounded right on to a brown carpet lying under a great tree, where it lay glowing like a red-hot coal. Teddy and Tilly jumped on to the brown carpet with a scream of delight, thinking they would now seize the ball, when suddenly the sides of the brown leaf curled up, and it lengthened out into a long boat. The darkness under it grew thicker and thicker, the foliage of the tree above vanished, and the two naughty children found themselves in a boat, rolling and tossing on the black waves, with a gloomy, starless sky above them. Away at the end of the boat sat Gillydrop, who had now unrolled himself, and was guiding the magic skiff across the Sea of Darkness towards the Country of the Giants.

“Oh, I want to go home!” cried Tilly, now very frightened.

“And so do I!” roared Teddy, sitting close to her.

As they said this, they both heard a mocking ripple oflaughter, and saw the Red Elf dancing with glee at the end of the boat.

“You’ll never go home again,” he cried mockingly, “because you have been naughty, and must be punished.”

“I’ll never be naughty again,” sobbed Tilly.

“No more will I,” echoed Teddy; and they both wept bitterly.

“It’s too late now,” said Gillydrop, shaking his head. “Naughty children always get punished.”

He might have said the same thing about himself; but then he was a faery, and felt ashamed to tell two human beings that he had been as naughty as themselves.

Teddy and Tilly cried dreadfully as they thought of their poor mother waiting for them at home, and of the nice supper of bread and milk which she had prepared for them; but their tears were all of no avail, for the magic boat sailed on and on, though how it moved without sails or oars they could not tell.

At last they saw a faint silver light away in the distance, and a cool breeze blew steadily against them. The light grew larger and larger until it spread everywhere, and they saw the shores of the Giants’ Country, with Dunderhead’s great castle hovering above them. The boat ran right up on to the beach, and then, suddenly turning into a leaf, contracted to a small size and flew away to another beech, but this time the beech was a tree.

The Red Elf vanished as soon as the leaf, and Teddy and Tilly, finding themselves alone in this dreary land, began to cry loudly. It would have been better for them if they hadheld their tongues, for Dunderhead, hearing two children crying, knew at once that the elf had brought them for his supper, and came down to seize them before they could get away.

“Ah! this is the supper my friend the elf has brought me,” he roared, picking up the children. “I’m so pleased! Now I’ll boil them.”

You may be sure that Teddy and Tilly were in a dreadful fright on hearing this, as they did not want to be boiled; but, in spite of all their cries, Dunderhead took them up to the great hall of his castle, and set them down on the table.

They were so fat and juicy that the Giant cried tears of joy at the prospect of having a good supper, and as his tears gushed out in a great torrent, Gillydrop, who had been waiting for this, plunged into the torrent to get his clothes cleaned again. Much to his dismay, however, the more he washed in the hot tears, the redder grew his clothes, until he was just the colour of the scarlet bean blossom.

“You told me a story,” said Gillydrop to the giant when he saw how red he was getting.

“I know I did,” said Dunderhead, drying his eyes, for he had now wept enough, and was growing hungry; “but if I hadn’t told you a story, I wouldn’t have got any supper. You’ll never be green again, so don’t trouble your head. I’m going to get some wood to cook these nice fat children.”

On hearing this, Teddy and Tilly roared like bulls, and Gillydrop roared too, for he was afraid he would never be able to go back to Faeryland in his red clothes; but the giant only laughed at them, and went out to light a fire under his big kettle.

Gillydrop was naturally very cross with the giant for having deceived him, and determined to punish him for having done so. Bringing the two children to Dunderhead for his supper could not be the kindly deed he had to do, or else he would have turned green again; so Gillydrop made up his mind to take Teddy and Tilly back to earth, and thus leave Dunderhead without his supper. While he was thus making up his mind, seated at one end of the table, the two children, seated at the other end, were crying bitterly at the plight in which they now found themselves, for it certainly is not a nice thing to be boiled for an ogre’s supper.

“Poor mother!” wailed Tilly, weeping; “she’ll miss us so much.”

“I don’t know if she will,” replied Teddy dolefully; “we’ve always been so naughty, I daresay she’ll be glad we’ve gone.”

“Oh no, she won’t,” said Tilly, nodding her head; “she loves us too much for that; but if we could get back I’d be so good.”

“And so would I,” cried Teddy; and then they both wept again, while Gillydrop, seeing their tears, wept also out of sheer sympathy.

“Perhaps the giant will only eat one of us,” said Tilly after a pause; “so while one of us is boiling, the other must run away and go back to comfort mother.”

“Who will be boiled?” asked Teddy sadly. “Will you, Tilly?”

“I don’t like being boiled,” answered Tilly, with a shudder.“I’m sure it isn’t nice.”

“Well, I don’t like being boiled either,” observed Teddy. “Suppose we draw lots who is to run away.”

“Yes, that would be fair,” said Tilly, drying her eyes; “and the one who wins must go back to cheer mother.”

Gillydrop was quite sorry now that he had brought them for Dunderhead’s supper, when he heard how they regretted their mother; so he made up his mind to save them.

“You shall neither of you be boiled,” he said, walking up to them across the table, which was like a large plain. “I will take you back to your mother.”

“But how?” asked Teddy and Tilly, both together. “We cannot go back across the sea alone.”

“Oh yes, you can,” replied the Red Elf. “I brought you here, and can send you back; that is, if I only had a leaf.”

“Here is one,” cried Tilly eagerly, pulling a faded leaf out of her pocket. “I picked it up in the wood to-day, it had such pretty red and yellow colours.”

“Oh, that will do for a boat,” said Gillydrop joyfully.

“But it’s so small,” objected Teddy.

“I’ll make it large enough,” said the elf. “You’ll see.”

“But how can we go on without sails or oars?” said Tilly timidly.

“You don’t need any,” rejoined Gillydrop, laughing; “you know every tree has power to draw back its own leaves. The boat we came in was a leaf, and, as soon as it was launched on the air, it went straight back to the tree in the Country of the Giants upon which it had grown; and as this leaf comes from atree on earth, it will go straight back to its tree.”

“Then we can get home,” cried Tilly, clapping her hands, “for the tree isn’t far from mother’s cottage.”

“Mind, you are never to be naughty again,” said Gillydrop solemnly.

“Oh, no, no!” cried both children.

“And be very, very good to your mother.”

“Yes, yes! We’ll be very good.”

“Then go down to the beach by the path,” said Gillydrop, spreading his wings. “I’ll fly down and get the boat ready; be quick, or the giant will return.”

Then he flew away through the open window, and Teddy scrambled down the steep path, followed by Tilly, both of them in a great fright lest the giant should catch sight of them and pop them into his big kettle. When they reached the beach, they found Gillydrop had launched the leaf, which had now been transformed into a beautiful red and yellow coloured boat.

“Good-bye,” said Gillydrop, as soon as they were comfortably seated in the boat. “I’m sorry I brought you here, but it will do you no harm, as it will teach you to be good. Mind you don’t quarrel in the boat—if you do, the leaf will vanish, and you’ll sink for ever in the black waves.”

“Oh, we’ll be very, very good,” promised both the children eagerly, and then Gillydrop gave the boat a push, so that it moved rapidly away from the land, leaving him seated on the beach, a lonely little red figure.

Teddy and Tilly were rather afraid at finding themselves alone in the darkness, but they kissed one another, and fell asleep, while the leaf-boat sailed rapidly over the Sea of Darknesstowards its parent tree. When the children awoke, they found themselves lying on the ground under the tree, and there above them was their red and yellow boat, hanging, a red and yellow leaf, on a high bough.

“Now we’ll go home,” cried Tilly, jumping up; “now we’ll go home to mother.”

“And be very good,” said Teddy, also rising.

“Yes; very, very good,” replied Tilly. And then, taking one another’s hands, they ran home to their cottage through the dark forest.

Dame Alice, who thought they had lost themselves in the wood, was very glad to see them, and, after she had kissed them, gave them a good supper of bread and milk, which they enjoyed very much, for you see they were very hungry with the long journey.

They told Dame Alice all their adventures, and she was very glad they had gone to the Giants’ Country, for she guessed, like the wise mother she was, that this was the lesson the faeries had foretold.

Ever afterwards, Teddy and Tilly were good children; there never were two such good children, because they thought, if they were not good, they would be taken back to the Giants’ Country and boiled for an ogre’s supper. But after a time they liked to do good actions because they found it pleasant, and Dame Alice was so pleased with their behaviour that she made a rhyme about them, which soon passed into a proverb:

“The magic power of a faeryCures a child when quite contrary.”

“The magic power of a faeryCures a child when quite contrary.”

“The magic power of a faeryCures a child when quite contrary.”

“The magic power of a faery

Cures a child when quite contrary.”

III.HOW THE RED ELF RETURNED TO FAERYLAND.

WhenGillydrop saw the magic boat disappear into the darkness of the sea, he thought that, now he had done one kindly deed, his clothes would change from red to green, and he would be able to return to his dear Faeryland. But nothing of the sort occurred, and the poor elf began to cry again, thinking he was lost for ever, but this time his tears were not red, which was a good sign, although he did not know it.

Very soon he heard Dunderhead roaring for the loss of his supper, so, drying his eyes, he flew back again to the hall of the castle, to see what the giant was doing. He found a great fire was lighted, over which was suspended a great kettle filled with water, which was now boiling hot. Dunderhead was searching everywhere for the children, and when he saw Gillydrop he shook his great fist at him.

“Where’s my supper, you red rag?” he roared fiercely.

“Your supper has gone back to earth,” replied Gillydrop angrily, for no one likes to be called a red rag. “You told me a story, so I thought I’d punish you.”

“Oh, did you?” bellowed Dunderhead, in a rage. “Then I’ll punish you also for spoiling my supper.” And before Gillydrop could fly away, he caught him in his great hand and popped him into the boiling water.

Oh, it was terribly hot, and Gillydrop thought it was all over with him; but, being a Faery, he could not be killed, as the foolish giant might have known. He sank down, down,right to the bottom of the great kettle, and then arose once more to the top. As soon as he found his head above water, he sprang out of the kettle and flew away high above the head of Dunderhead, who could only shake his fist at him.

To his delight and surprise, Gillydrop found his clothes had all changed from red to green, and instead of being dressed in crimson, his suit was now of a beautiful emerald colour. He was so delighted that he flew down on to the floor of the hall, and began to dance and sing, while the giant joined in as he tried to catch him; so that they had quite a duet.

But you see he could not do that, because Gillydrop was too quick for him, and flew round the hall, laughing at Dunderhead, who roared with anger. Then the elf flew out on to the terrace which overlooked the Sea of Darkness, followed by the giant. Gillydrop flew down on to the beach to escape the ogre, and Dunderhead tried to follow; but, as he could not fly, he fell right into the Sea of Darkness. Dear me! what a terrible splash he made! The waves arose as high as the castle walls, but then they settled down again over Dunderhead, who was suffocated in the black billows. He was the very last of the giants, and now his bones lie white and gleaming in the depthsof the Sea of Darkness, where nobody will ever find them—nor do I think any one would trouble to look for them.

As for Gillydrop, now that Dunderhead was dead, he flew away across the dreary plain towards Faeryland, and soon arrived at the borders of the sullen grey sea which still rolled under the pale light of the moon. Gillydrop was not a bit afraid now, because his clothes were green once more, and he had performed one kindly deed; so he sat down on the seashore and sang this song:

“When from Faeryland I fled,All my nice clothes turned to red;Now in emerald suit I stand—Take me back to Faeryland.”

“When from Faeryland I fled,All my nice clothes turned to red;Now in emerald suit I stand—Take me back to Faeryland.”

“When from Faeryland I fled,All my nice clothes turned to red;Now in emerald suit I stand—Take me back to Faeryland.”

“When from Faeryland I fled,

All my nice clothes turned to red;

Now in emerald suit I stand—

Take me back to Faeryland.”

And as he sang the grey ocean faded away, and in its place he saw the green trees of the faery forest, waving their branches in the silver moonlight. Only a bright sparkling stream now flowed between Gillydrop and Faeryland; so, spreading his silver and blue wings, he flew across the water, singing gaily:

“Thanks, dear Oberon. At lastAll my naughtiness is past;Home I come without a stain,And will never roam again.”

“Thanks, dear Oberon. At lastAll my naughtiness is past;Home I come without a stain,And will never roam again.”

“Thanks, dear Oberon. At lastAll my naughtiness is past;Home I come without a stain,And will never roam again.”

“Thanks, dear Oberon. At last

All my naughtiness is past;

Home I come without a stain,

And will never roam again.”

So at last Gillydrop got back to Faeryland after all his trials, and ever afterwards was one of the most contented elves ever known. You may be sure he never wanted to see the Country of the Giants again, and whatever King Oberon said he did willingly, because he knew it must be right.

He was quite a hero among the faeries, and had the honour of telling all his adventures to King Oberon himself, which he did so nicely that the King gave him a title, and ever afterwardshe was called “Sir Gillydrop the Fearless.”

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