Complete Works of Lewis Carroll (103 page)

`And then you go and dine with him?'
I said mischievously.

`You shouldn't talk,' Bruno hastily said; `it interrupts the song so.'

I said I wouldn't do it again.

`I never talk myself when I'm singing,' he went on, very gravely; `so you shouldn't either.'
Then he turned the bluebells once more and sang:

`
Hear, oh, hear!
From far and near

   
A music stealing, ting, ting, ting!

Fairy bells adown the dells

   
Are merrily pealing, ting, ting, ting!

Welcoming our fairy king

   
We ring, ring, ring
.

`
See, oh, see!
On every t'ee

   
What lamps are shining, ting, ting, ting!

They are eyes of fiery flies

   
To light our dining, ting, ting, ting!

Welcoming our fairy king

   
They swing, swing, swing
.

`
Haste, oh, haste!
to take and haste

   
The dainties waiting, ting, ting, ting!

Honey-dew is stored
—'

`Hush, Bruno!'
I interrupted, in a warning whisper.
`She's coming!'

Bruno checked his song only just in time for Sylvie not to hear him, and then, catching sight of her as she slowly made her way through the long grass, he suddenly rushed out headlong at her like a little bull, shouting: `Look the other way!
Look the other way!'

`Which way?'
Sylvie asked, in rather a frightened tone, as she looked round in all directions to see where the danger could be.

`
That
way!'
said Bruno, carefully turning her round with her face to the wood.
`Now, walk backwards—walk gently—don't be f'ightened: you shan't t'ip!'

But Sylvie did `t'ip' notwithstanding: in fact he led her, in his hurry, across so many little sticks and stones, that it was really a wonder the poor child could keep on her feet at all.
But he was far too much excited to think of what he was doing.

I silently pointed out to Bruno the best place to lead her to, so as to get a view of the whole garden at once: it was a little rising ground, about the height of a potato; and, when they had mounted it, I drew back into the shade, that Sylvie mightn't see me.

I heard Bruno cry out triumphantly `
Now
you may look!'
and then followed a great clapping of hands, but it was all done by Bruno himself.
Sylvie was quite silent—she only stood and gazed with her hands clasped tightly together, and I was afraid she didn't like it after all.

Bruno too was watching her anxiously, and when she jumped down off the mound, and began wandering up and down the little walks, he cautiously followed her about, evidently anxious that she should form her own opinion of it all, without any hint from him.
And when at last she drew a long breath, and gave her verdict—in a hurried whisper, and without the slightest regard to grammar—`It's the loveliest thing as I never saw in all my life before!'
the little fellow looked as well pleased as if it had been given by all the judges and juries in England put together.

`And did you really do it all by yourself, Bruno?'
said Sylvie.
`And all for me?'

`I was helped a bit,' Bruno began, with a merry little laugh at her surprise.
`We've been at it all the afternoon—I thought you'd like—' and here the poor little fellow's lip began to quiver, and all in a moment he burst out crying, and running up to Sylvie he flung his arms passionately round her neck, and hid his face on her shoulder.

There was a little quiver in Sylvie's voice too as she whispered: `Why, what's the matter, darling?'
and tried to lift up his head and kiss him.

But Bruno only clung to her, sobbing, and wouldn't be comforted till he had confessed all.
`I t'ied—to spoil your garden—first—but—I'll never— never—' and then came another burst of tears, which drowned the rest of the sentence.
At last he got out the words, `I liked—putting in the flowers—for
you
, Sylvie—and I never was so happy before—' and the rosy little face came up at last to be kissed, all wet with tears as it was.

Sylvie was crying too by this time, and she said nothing but `Bruno, dear!'
and `
I
never was so happy before—' though why two children who had never been so happy before should both be crying, was a great mystery to me.

I
felt very happy too, but of course I didn't cry: `big things' never do, you know—we leave all that to the fairies.
Only I think it must have been raining a little just then, for I found a drop or two on my cheeks.

After that they went through the whole garden again, flower by flower, as if it were a long sentence they were spelling out, with kisses for commas, and a great hug by way of a full-stop when they got to the end.

`Do you know, that was my river-edge, Sylvie?'
Bruno began, looking solemnly at her.

Sylvie laughed merrily.
`What
do
you mean?'
she said; and she pushed back her heavy brown hair with both hands, and looked at him with dancing eyes in which the big teardrops were still glittering.

Bruno drew in a long breath, and made up his mouth for a great effort.
`I mean rev-enge,' he said `now you under'tand.'
And he looked so happy and proud at having said the word right at last, that I quite envied him.
I rather think Sylvie didn't `under'tand' at all; but she gave him a little kiss on each cheek, which seemed to do just as well.

So they wandered off lovingly together, in among the buttercups, each with an arm twined round the other, whispering and laughing as they went, and never so much as once looked back at poor me.
Yes, once, just before I quite lost sight of them, Bruno half turned his head, and nodded me a saucy little good-bye over one shoulder.
And that was all the thanks I got for
my
trouble.

I know you're sorry the story's come to an end—aren't you?—so I'll just tell you one thing more.
They very last thing I saw of them was this—Sylvie was stooping down with her arms round Bruno's neck, and saying coaxingly in his ear: `Do you know, Bruno, I've quite forgotten that hard word—do say it once more.
Come!
Only this once, dear!'

But Bruno wouldn't try it again.

CRUNDLE CASTLE

(Early story from
The Rectory Magazine
: circa 1850)

CHAPTER ONE

`LOVE ME LOVE MY DOG'

`MY dear Miss Primmins' said the kind and comfortable lady, Mrs Cogsby, a burly good-natured body, engaged in that most delightful occupation of gardening on a summer evening, which consisted of amputating a few dead rosebuds with an enormous and sanguinary looking knife, apparently constructed originally for the rather unusual purpose of murdering crocodiles, but which she employed on the present occasion with no more apparent emotion than if it were the most delicate lady's penknife.
`My dear Miss Primmins, you mustn't think of going a
step
further, before you've come in, and had a glass of elder wine.
Besides you haven't seen my darling Guggy this
age
, and he's
so
improved!'
The said darling Guggy was a rather over-grown boy of about 6 years old, the delight of his mother, and the utter detestation of all the neighbourhood, who were miserably victimised by Mrs Cogsby for whole evenings together, admiring him and hearing of his performances.
He was always carried into the room by his mother's express desire, though it was noticed by the more observant of her visitors that the nurse only took him up outside the door, indeed it was impossible for any human nurse to have carried him 10 yards without dropping.

`Rely, Mem,' began the present victim, a sickly decayed looking young lady, of considerably over 70, who screwed all her words with some difficulty out of one of the smallest mouths, `rely, Mem, I kiddnt think of intrewding on your seclusion.'
But Mrs Cogsby would hear of no excuse, and she was soon seated in the parlour, where in the course of 1/2 an hour, 8 or 10 other victims were assembled, and the darling Guggy was introduced.

`Oh!
what a charming boy!'
was the general exclamation on his first appearance, the charming boy meanwhile standing at his mother's knee with his thumb in his mouth, vouchsafing not a word to any of the company; `I really must show you,' began Mrs Cogsby, `a remarkable production of Guggy's.
It's a portrait of his father, wonderfully like him, (a universal elevation of eye-brows) only the poor dear man wouldn't look at it, when I shewed it him today, but went off in a fluff.'
(Probably a combination of flurry and huff, a confusion of words being one of Mrs Cogsby's peculiarities.) At this moment a gentle knock was heard at the door.

CHAPTER TWO

ON the door being opened, Mr Cogsby senior timidly entered the room: he cast an anxious glance around him, detected Miss Primmins in the act of examining his portrait, and with a faint shriek of horror, sunk into a chair.
Mrs Cogsby flew to him, and by dint of a well directed battery of the most energetic slaps on the back, succeeded in restoring the vital spark.
`My dear Alfred,' she murmured reproachfully in his ear, as soon as she saw signs of returning consciousness, `to think that
you
should yield to this weakness!
you
, to whom I'm sure I've been
more
than a mother.'
`I beg your pardon, ma'am' interposed a pale tall young man, leaning over a chair, with a large head of a small stick constantly in his mouth, `but do you happen to be his—
grand
mother?'
`Sir!'
said Mrs Cogsby with a withering glance, which silenced him in a moment.
Even in that awful moment she had the presence of mind to ring the bell.
`Show that
person
out!'
said she faintly, and the young man, rather astounded at the effect of his speech, followed the indignant maid-servant, who saw that the mistress had received
some
insult, though what it was she was by no means clear.
The danger over Mrs Cogsby began to think it was
her
turn to have a scene, and accordingly began, `The brute!
the beast!!!
to call—a young lady—n-not 30—t-to call her—a granan-an-mother—oh!'
and here, having reached the climax, she fell, executing her favourite manoeuvre of sinking upon a sofa in a picturesque attitude.

The next moment a yell of agony was heard from Guggy, the feet of that beauteous infant being just discernible protruding from under his mother's dress.

CHAPTER THREE

A series of vigorous little kicks were being applied to Mrs Cogsby by her pet son, while her anxious female friends were employing all sorts of unheard of restoratives on the other.
Miss Primmins, with a handful of burnt feathers in one hand, and a bottle of hartshorn in the other was the most conspicuous among them.
Mr.
Cogsby had disappeared at the first moment of alarm: he now reappeared with a smile of satisfaction on his face, and before anyone could interpose to prevent him, soused his wife with the whole contents of a very large bucket of water.
All symptoms of fainting vanished in an instant, and Mrs Cogsby with wrath and revenge in her flashing eye, rose up from her recumbent position, seized her terrified husband by the ear, and led him from the room; the miserable Guggy whom no-one compassionated, was left in a crushed and wafer-like condition on the sofa, where he was found by the maid-servant, hours afterwards, howling frantically.

Shrieks and blows resounded from the next room, and the female visitors, stopping their ears, rushed out of the house, leaving the unhappy Mr Cogsby to his fate.
The gentlemen were only too glad to follow them, and no-one was left, save and except one deaf old gentleman, who hadn't the smallest notion of what had been going on, and now remained sitting in the corner, with his legs crossed, and a calm and placid smile settled on his face.

What followed in Mr Cogsby's house, it is not for us to say: Miss Primmins, on arriving at home was seized by violent hysterics.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE deepest antipathy and most violent disgust may be got over in the slow course of time, and though for the next 6 months she was injured innocence personified, though she expressed the most utter abhorrence of the Cogsby conduct, and made solemn vows not to enter the Cogsby residence, yet when Mrs Cogsby issued her invitations to her annual ball, on New-years-day there was no-one who obeyed the summons with greater alacrity, or arrived more punctually to the time than Miss Primmins.
Clad in a low satin dress of the deepest Prussian blue, with a tiara of jewels on her head, her auburn ringlets gracefully falling over her shoulders, (honestly her's, for she had payed for them) and her fair complexion (likewise honestly her's) blooming in all the fresh ruddiness of youth, no-one who saw her then would have imagined her to be the ordinary every-day Miss Primmins, with her sallow face, known to be the most malicious and spiteful gossip in the town, any more than he would have imagined her to be the Emperor of Russia.
And Mr Augustus Bymm was there too, contrite for all past offences, and forgiven by Mrs Cogsby, and of course the charming Guggy was introduced in the drawing room, who after treading on three gentlemen's toes, pushing a plate of cake into a lady's lap, and deluging the table with coffee, was finally sent to bed roaring for upsetting the lamp over Miss Primmins.
All hands were immediately at work to `put out' Miss Primmins, who, enwrapped in flames, was at last enveloped by Mr Augustus Bymm in a hearthrug, and finally extinguished.
This was hardly done when a more horrifying event took place.
Mr Cogsby's feet were seen for a moment balancing on the sill of the open window, the next he had vanished.

CHAPTER FIVE

ALL rushed to the window; the ill-fated Mr Cogsby was seen stuck in one of the flower-beds in an inverted position, quivering like an aspen tree: it appeared that the unhappy gentleman had been gradually backing from the scene of conflagration, overcome with horror at the accident which had befallen Miss Primmins, until he had at length backed out of the room in the manner described in the former chapter.
Mr Augustus Bymm was on the spot in a moment, uprooted the half suffocated Mr Cogsby, and bore him in his arms into the house, where he consigned him to the maternal solicitude of his wife, (he did not venture to call it
grand
-maternal on
this
occasion) and returned in a high state of self-gratulation to the smouldering Miss Primmins, who, overcome by her feelings, took off her (false) diamond necklace on the
spot
, and begged to present it to him with her compliments as a token of her heartfelt gratitude.

Order being at length restored among the agitated guests, and Mrs Cogsby having returned with the pleasing intelligence that the only result of Mr Cogsby's fall had been a stiff neck and a slight attack of alloverishness, conversation proceeded in its usual train, and Miss Primmins, taking her seat by Mrs Cogsby's side, begged to ask her advice in an important matter: `she was thinking' she said, `of giving a little juvenile party in a few days, but did not
quite
know how to manage it.'
`No?
were you really?'
exclaimed Mrs Cogsby rapturously, `how delightful!
well, I'm sure I'll give you every assistance I can.
I shall have no objection to let you have my darling Guggy for the occasion, who I'm sure will be the life and soul of the whole thing.'
`Why, no, not exactly,' said Miss Primmins, coughing nervously to hide her confusion as she had not foreseen this offer and her whole object had been to avoid the presence of that much-detested child, `I did not exactly ask you for
him
, you know, Mrs Cogsby.'
`I
know
you did not, my dear Miss Primmins,' said Mrs Cogsby, affectionately laying her hand upon her arm, `your natural delicacy was too great for you to try to separate a mother from her darling infant, however much you might wish to do so, but I need hardly say that I have
full
confidence in your prudence and experience, and do not hesitate to trust my precious child to your care, no, and should not if he were a hundred Guggy's!'

Miss Primmins shuddered at the idea, and proceeded rather less hopefully.
than before.
`But you see, Mrs Cogsby, that—I'm
so
nervous!
and really—a number—of children,—that is—I didn't mean to say—but—you understand what I mean—in fact—for these reasons—I fear I must—decline—the—the—company—of—your—precious Guggy.'

CHAPTER SIX

`GO, CALL A COACH'

`MY
dear
Miss Primmins,' said Mrs Cogsby, `I understand your wishes, and be assured I will act accordingly.'
`Thank you, thank you,' returned that agitated lady.
`I am sure you understand—what I wish—that I, you know—I didn't mean to say it—but better than I could express it myself.'
`Yes, yes, I perfectly understand you,' replied Mrs Cogsby and here the two ladies parted, the one to seek out Mr Augustus Bymm, and again assure him that she wasn't in the least hurt, only frightened, and that her sense of gratitude to him would survive to the latest moment of her life, the other to spend the rest of the evening in boasting among her lady-guests of the attainments of her Guggy.

The auspicious day at length arrived, and Miss Primmins, with trembling hands, was herself ornamenting the dishes which she intended to form the repast of her juvenile guests, her loud and imperious maid assisting, or rather hindering, continuously grumbling at her mistress for her ignorance and in the same breath complaining of the trouble these things always gave, and regularly winding up her paragraphs with, `there, I told you so, you'd better let me do it!'
snatching the dish or other article out of her hands.
One by one her little guests dropped in, shy, timid, and shrinking.
`How d'you do, my dears,' began Miss Primmins, `won't you take off your bonnets?'
`There, you'd better let me do it!'
remarked her maid in a surly undertone.
When all had arrived, Miss Primmins was joyfully counting heads when the door opened and in marched Master George Cogsby.

CHAPTER SEVEN

`A SIGHT OF HORROR'

MASTER George Cogsby, who, as the reader already knows, rejoiced in the mellifluous sobriquet of Guggy, entered the room, and Miss Primmins, in whose face the most intense disgust was vividly depicted, rose to meet him.
`My
darling
child,' she began, `I am
delighted
to see you, how is your dear mother?'
`Don't know,' was the darling's intelligent reply, and Miss Primmins turned to her other guests saying `Well, I
hope
you'll all enjoy yourselves,' with a look which plainly added, `but I don't think you've much chance, now!'
She then occupied herself in setting her little visitors to games etc.
but Master Guggy would do nothing, join in nothing, but kept going round the room, pinching the guests, and enjoying their screams: at last he took his station by Miss Primmins herself, who was playing a brisk polka for the enlivenment of the company in general.