Moominsummer Madness (13 page)

CHAPTER
11
About tricking jailers

NEXT morning the playbills were sent out. All kinds of birds flew along the inlet and dropped them. The bills (written and coloured by Whomper and the Mymble's daughter), fluttered down over the forest and the shore and the meadows, in the water, on housetops and in gardens.

One of the playbills was dropped over the jail and landed at the feet of the Hemulen who was sitting half asleep in the sunshine with his policeman's cap over his snout.

He picked it up, feeling very excited, and suspecting a secret message intended for his prisoners.

At the moment he had not less than three prisoners, the most he had ever had since he took his jailer's degree. It was nearly two years since the last time he had locked anybody up, so naturally he took no chances now.

The Hemulen adjusted his glasses and read the bill aloud to himself:

First Night!!!
THE LION'S BRIDES or BLOOD WILL OUT
A Tragedy in One Act by Moominpappa
Performed by
Moominpappa, Moominmamma, The Mymble's Daughter, Misabel, and Whomper.
Chorus: Emma.
Tickets against anything eatable.
The Tragedy begins at sunset if the weather keeps good, and will end at ordinary bedtime. Performed in the middle of Spruce Creek. Boats for hire from the Hemulens.
The Management

'A play?' said the Hemulen thoughtfully and took off his glasses again. Deep in his heart stirred a faint, unhemulic memory of his childhood. Quite, his aunt had taken him to the theatre once. That was something about a princess who went to sleep in a rosebush. It had been very beautiful. The Hemulen had rather liked it.

Suddenly he knew that he wanted to go to the theatre again.

But who would guard his prisoners?

He knew of no Hemulen who could possibly find the time. The poor jailer racked his hemulic brain. He pressed his snout against the iron bars of the cage that stood in the shadow beside his chair, and said: 'I'd like so much to go to the theatre tonight.'

'The theatre?' said Moomintroll, pointing his ears.

'Yes,
The Lion's Brides'
explained the Hemulen and pushed the playbill between the bars. 'And now I can't imagine whom I could get to watch you in the meantime.'

Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden read the playbill. They looked at each other.

'I suppose it's about some princess or other,' said the Hemulen plaintively. It's ages since I saw a little princess.'

'Of course you'll have to go,' said the Snork Maiden. 'Is there really no one who could watch us?'

'Well, there's my cousin,' replied the Hemulen. 'But she's too kindhearted. Perhaps she'd let you out.'

'When are we going to be beheaded,' the Fillyjonk suddenly asked.

'Oh, dear me, nobody's going to behead you,' replied the Hemulen, quite embarrassedly. 'You'll just have to sit there until you confess. Then you'll be sentenced to painting new notices and writing out "Strictly forbidden" five thousand times each.'

'But we're innocent,' began the Fillyjonk.

'Yes, I know,' said the Hemulen. 'I've heard it before. They all say that.'

'Listen,' said Moomintroll. 'You'll be sorry for the rest of your life if you don't go to that play. I'm certain there are princesses in it.
The Lion's Brides.'

The Hemulen shrugged his shoulders with a sigh.

'Now don't be foolish,' said the Snork Maiden entreatingly. 'Let's have a look at your cousin. I suppose a kindhearted jailer is better than none, anyway!'

'Perhaps,' replied the Hemulen sourly. He rose and shuffled off through the bushes.

'There you are!' said Moomintroll. 'Remember out dream on Midsummer Night? About lions! A big lion that was bitten in the leg by Little My! But I wonder what they are up to at home!'

'I dreamed that I had a lot of new relatives,' said the Fillyjonk. 'Wasn't that horrid? Now, when I'm rid of the old ones.'

The Hemulen returned. He was accompanied by a very small and thin Hemulen with a timid look.

'Do you think you can watch these for me?' he asked.

'Do they bite?' the small Hemulen whispered. She was evidently quite a failure (from a hemulic point of view). The Hemulen snorted and gave her the key.

'Certainly,' he said. 'They'll bite your head off, snip-snop, if you let them out. Cheerio, I'm off to dress for the first night.'

As soon as he had disappeared, the little Hemulen seated herself and began crocheting. Now and then she glanced at the cage. She looked frightened.

'What are you making?' the Snork Maiden asked kindly.

The small Hemulen gave a start. 'I don't know, really,' she whispered anxiously. 'I just feel a bit more secure with my crocheting.'

'Couldn't you make it into slippers, it's such a nice slipper colour,' suggested the Snork Maiden.

The small Hemulen examined her crocheting and thought for a while.

'Don't you know anybody who has cold feet?' asked the Fillyjonk.

'Yes, I've got a girl friend,' said the little Hemulen.

'I know one too,' the Fillyjonk continued in a friendly tone. 'My aunt. She's working at a theatre. There's such a cross-draught they say. Must be an unpleasant place.'

'Here's quite a draught, too,' said Moomintroll.

'My cousin, ought to have thought of that,' said the little Hemulen shyly. 'If you wait a bit I'll crochet slippers for you.'

'I suppose we're dead before they're finished,' Moomintroll replied bleakly.

The little Hemulen looked quite alarmed and came nearer to the cage. 'Suppose I put a blanket over it?' she suggested.

Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden shrugged their shoulders and huddled shivering close to each other.

'Do you really feel such a draught?' asked the little Hemulen worriedly.

The Snork Maiden coughed hollowly.
'Perhaps
a cup of tea with blackcurrant jam would save me,' she said. 'Possibly.'

The little Hemulen hesitated. She was pressing her crocheting to her snout and staring at them. 'If you'd die...' she said in a trembling voice. 'If you'd die, then there wouldn't be any fun left for my cousin when he comes home.'

'Probably not,' said the Fillyjonk. 'And anyway I have to measure your feet for the slippers.'

They nodded convincingly.

Then the little Hemulen opened the cage and said, shyly: 'Perhaps you'll give me the pleasure of accepting a nice cup of hot tea? With blackcurrant jam. And of course you shall have the slippers as soon as I can crochet them. So kind of you to hit upon that slipper idea! It'll make my crocheting so purposeful, if you see what I mean.'

They walked to the little Hemulen's house and had some tea. She insisted on baking several sorts of cake, so that it was already dusk when the Snork Maiden rose and said: 'Now I'm afraid we'll have to go. Thank you ever so much for the nice party!'

'It's really terrible to have to put you back in jail again,' the little Hemulen said apologetically and lifted down the key from its nail.

'But we don't intend to go back there,' replied Moomintroll. 'We're going home to the theatre.'

The little Hemulen had tears in her eyes. 'That'll make my cousin terribly, terribly disappointed,' she said.

'But we're absolutely innocent!' the Fillyjonk exclaimed.

'Oh, why didn't you tell me that at once,' said the little Hemulen, relieved. 'Then of course you must go home. But perhaps I'd better come along with you and explain it all to my cousin.'

CHAPTER 12
About a dramatic First Night

WHILE
the little Hemulen entertained her guests at tea, more and more of the playbills kept fluttering down over the forest. One of them drifted down in a small glade and landed and stuck on a newly-tarred roof.

Twenty-four small woodies immediately swarmed up on the roof to bring down the bill. Every one of them wanted to be the one who gave it to Snufkin and as the paper was rather thin it was quickly transformed into twenty-four very small playbills (of which a few fell down the chimney and caught fire).

'A letter for your!' shouted the woodies, gliding, scuttling and rolling down from the roof.

'Oh, you grokelings!' said Snufkin who was busy washing socks by the porch. 'Have you forgotten that we tarred the roof this morning? Do you want me to go away and leave you, throw myself in the sea or box your ears?'