The Counterpane Fairy [21]
but sit and rock herself backward and forward and whine. "I couldn't go, my dear; I couldn't indeed," she said. "I'm all of a tremble now to think how that dreadful merman has been playing with Fatty and Dumpy day after day and I never knew it."
"Then I'll go by myself," said Father Bear, gruffly, "and leave the children home with you. But you can go, Fairy," he said to Teddy. "I'll carry you on my back if you like, and maybe you'll see me catch a young walrus. I suppose it was you who split him down the back, as the Counterpane Fairy brought you."
"Yes, sir, it was," said Teddy, timidly; "but I'm afraid I can't go with you; I'm afraid I'm going back,"--for the bears, the fields of ice, the far-off green water, were all wavering and growing misty before his sight. Faintly he heard the voices of the bear cubs: "Owie! owie! don't go away"; for they had grown fond of him the day before.
Then their voices died away. He was back in the old familiar room with the Counterpane Fairy perched upon his knees, and a bunch of snowdrops in the vase beside the bed. The door opened and his mother stood holding the knob in her hand and speaking to Hannah outside, and in that moment the Counterpane Fairy was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
THE RUBY RING.
THE next day, in spite of the doctor's promises, Teddy was not allowed to sit up.
It was a raw, blustering day, and every feeling of spring seemed gone from the air; the wind rattled at the windows, and Hannah built up the fire until it roared.
Teddy did not feel much disappointed at not being allowed to sit up, for Harriett came over with her paint-box, and they began coloring the pictures in some old magazines that mamma gave them; the bed was littered with the pages.
After a while mamma left them and went down into the kitchen to bake a cake.
"I wish I had brought my best apron over," said Harriett, "for then I could have stayed for dinner if you wanted me to."
"Why can't you stay anyhow?" asked Teddy.
"Oh, I can't," said Harriett. "I must go to dancing-class right after dinner, and I have to wear my apron with the embroidered ruffles."
"Harriett, why don't you go home and get it, and then perhaps you could have diner up here with me; wouldn't you like that?"
"Yes, but maybe Aunt Alice doesn't want me to stay."
"Yes, she does," said Teddy. "I know she does, because she said she was so glad to have you come and amuse me."
"Well, I'll go home and ask my mother. I don't know whether she'll let me."
"You won't stay long, will you?"
"No, I won't," promised Harriett. Then she put on her jacket and hat and ran down-stairs.
Teddy went on with his painting by himself for a while, but it seemed to him Harriett was gone a long time. He called his mother once, and she came to the foot of the stairs and told him she couldn't come up just yet.
Then Teddy began thinking of the Counterpane Fairy, and the stories she had shown him. He wondered if she wouldn't come to see him to-day. She always came when he was lonely, and he was quite sure he was getting lonely now. Yes, he knew he was.
"Well," said a little voice just back of the counterpane hill, "it's not quite so steep to-day, and that's a comfort." There was the little fairy just appearing above the tops of his knees,--brown hood, brown cloak, brown staff, and all. She sat down with her staff in her hand and nodded to him, smiling. "Good-morning," she said.
"Good-morning," said Teddy. "Mrs. Fairy, I was wondering whether you wouldn't like it if I kept my knees down, and then there wouldn't be any hill."
"No," said the fairy, "I like to be up high so that I can look about me, only it's hard climbing sometimes. Now, how about a story? Would you like to see one to-day?"
"Oh, yes!" cried Teddy. "Indeed, I would."
"Then which square will you choose? Make haste, for I haven't much time."
"I think I'll take that red one," said Teddy.
"Very good," said the fairy, and then she began to count.
As she counted, the red square spread and glowed until it seemed to Teddy that he
"Then I'll go by myself," said Father Bear, gruffly, "and leave the children home with you. But you can go, Fairy," he said to Teddy. "I'll carry you on my back if you like, and maybe you'll see me catch a young walrus. I suppose it was you who split him down the back, as the Counterpane Fairy brought you."
"Yes, sir, it was," said Teddy, timidly; "but I'm afraid I can't go with you; I'm afraid I'm going back,"--for the bears, the fields of ice, the far-off green water, were all wavering and growing misty before his sight. Faintly he heard the voices of the bear cubs: "Owie! owie! don't go away"; for they had grown fond of him the day before.
Then their voices died away. He was back in the old familiar room with the Counterpane Fairy perched upon his knees, and a bunch of snowdrops in the vase beside the bed. The door opened and his mother stood holding the knob in her hand and speaking to Hannah outside, and in that moment the Counterpane Fairy was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
THE RUBY RING.
THE next day, in spite of the doctor's promises, Teddy was not allowed to sit up.
It was a raw, blustering day, and every feeling of spring seemed gone from the air; the wind rattled at the windows, and Hannah built up the fire until it roared.
Teddy did not feel much disappointed at not being allowed to sit up, for Harriett came over with her paint-box, and they began coloring the pictures in some old magazines that mamma gave them; the bed was littered with the pages.
After a while mamma left them and went down into the kitchen to bake a cake.
"I wish I had brought my best apron over," said Harriett, "for then I could have stayed for dinner if you wanted me to."
"Why can't you stay anyhow?" asked Teddy.
"Oh, I can't," said Harriett. "I must go to dancing-class right after dinner, and I have to wear my apron with the embroidered ruffles."
"Harriett, why don't you go home and get it, and then perhaps you could have diner up here with me; wouldn't you like that?"
"Yes, but maybe Aunt Alice doesn't want me to stay."
"Yes, she does," said Teddy. "I know she does, because she said she was so glad to have you come and amuse me."
"Well, I'll go home and ask my mother. I don't know whether she'll let me."
"You won't stay long, will you?"
"No, I won't," promised Harriett. Then she put on her jacket and hat and ran down-stairs.
Teddy went on with his painting by himself for a while, but it seemed to him Harriett was gone a long time. He called his mother once, and she came to the foot of the stairs and told him she couldn't come up just yet.
Then Teddy began thinking of the Counterpane Fairy, and the stories she had shown him. He wondered if she wouldn't come to see him to-day. She always came when he was lonely, and he was quite sure he was getting lonely now. Yes, he knew he was.
"Well," said a little voice just back of the counterpane hill, "it's not quite so steep to-day, and that's a comfort." There was the little fairy just appearing above the tops of his knees,--brown hood, brown cloak, brown staff, and all. She sat down with her staff in her hand and nodded to him, smiling. "Good-morning," she said.
"Good-morning," said Teddy. "Mrs. Fairy, I was wondering whether you wouldn't like it if I kept my knees down, and then there wouldn't be any hill."
"No," said the fairy, "I like to be up high so that I can look about me, only it's hard climbing sometimes. Now, how about a story? Would you like to see one to-day?"
"Oh, yes!" cried Teddy. "Indeed, I would."
"Then which square will you choose? Make haste, for I haven't much time."
"I think I'll take that red one," said Teddy.
"Very good," said the fairy, and then she began to count.
As she counted, the red square spread and glowed until it seemed to Teddy that he