The Wind on the Moon (5 page)

‘It's horribly unfair, the way people take advantage of being two years older than somebody else,' said Dorinda.

‘No, it isn't,' said Dinah. ‘It's quite natural.'

‘It's unfair,' repeated Dorinda.

‘You won't think so in two years' time, when you'll be as old as I am now,' said Dinah.

‘Yes, I shall,' said Dorinda, ‘because you'll still be two years older, and taking advantage of me in some other way.'

Dinah thought about that for nearly half a minute, and then she said: ‘But think what will happen when we're quite old. When you're ninety, I shall be ninety-two, and at ninety-two it wouldn't be at all surprising if I were on my death-bed. But you, being only ninety, will still be going to parties, and taking a little walk in the morning, and having a good lunch, and telling your great-grandchildren about all the things you did when you were a girl. You'll be enjoying yourself when I'm on my deathbed, and that will be terribly unfair to me. So everything will be evened-up in time.'

‘I suppose you're right,' said Dorinda, ‘but I've got a good many years to wait. Well, tell me more about Mrs. Grimble.'

‘She said that once when she was away from home some of the village boys had thrown stones at her house, and broken a window. So she was very glad when she heard that we wanted to frighten them, and promised to help us in any way she could. Then I told her about the grizzly bear that went into Mr. Horrabin the ironmonger's, and how he frightened everyone so badly. And I asked her for a magic draught that would turn us into grizzly bears.'

‘Not for always?' asked Dorinda.

‘No, just for a few days, of course.'

‘I wouldn't like to be a grizzly bear for the rest of my life,' said Dorinda.

‘Well, you're not going to be one at all,' said Dinah,' because Mrs. Grimble didn't think it a good idea. A grizzly bear has a very thick coat, and we would feel hot and uncomfortable, she said. We would probably come out in heat-spots under the skin, she thought. So she advised us to turn into crocodiles. A crocodile, she said, was always cool, and she couldn't think of anything that would give the villagers a worse fright than seeing a pair of enormous crocodiles coming up the street.'

‘I don't think I want to be an enormous crocodile,' said Dorinda.

‘Nor do I,' said Dinah, ‘and I told her so at once. So then she said that a crocodile was her choice, and if we didn't like it, we should have to think of something for ourselves. She said she would give us a magic draught that would turn us into anything at all, but I would have to wait while she made it, because she hadn't any of that particular sort in stock. And that's why I was late, because it took her about an hour to make it. She put a pot on the fire, and while she was making it, she sang a song which was the recipe for the draught.'

‘Does she sing well?' asked Dorinda.

‘No, not very well,' said Dinah, ‘but very clearly. You could hear every word.'

‘Do you remember the song?'

‘I think so. Wait a minute, and I'll try to sing it.'

Dinah frowned and whispered to herself, rehearsing the lines, and then in a small clear voice she sang:

‘It's a nice song,' said Dorinda, ‘but I don't think the medicine will have a very nice taste.'

‘It will be quite horrible, I'm afraid,' said Dinah.

‘But we can hold our noses and drink it very quickly,' said Dorinda, ‘and then we shall become—well, what shall we become? There are so many animals, it's very difficult to choose. I don't want to be a hippopotamus, or anything like that. I should love to be an antelope, but an antelope, of course, wouldn't frighten anyone. What shall we become, Dinah?'

‘I've been thinking about it very carefully,' said Dinah, ‘and it occurred to me that there's one very big disadvantage in being an animal. Animals don't usually have pockets, and they can't carry a purse or a handbag. But if we are going to be away from home for a few days, we shall certainly want to take a tooth-brush and a clean pocket-handkerchief.'

‘And some chocolate,' said Dorinda.

‘And it would be a good idea to take a note-book.'

‘And I shouldn't like to go away without my new watch,' said Dorinda.

‘And we shall have to take the magic draught, of course, so that we can turn ourselves back into girls when we want to.'

‘I suppose,' said Dorinda, ‘that we could tie a little bag round our necks, to carry things in.'

‘I've thought of something better than that,' said Dinah. ‘There's one sort of animal that has got pockets.'

‘I know!' said Dorinda. ‘A kangaroo!'

‘Yes,' said Dinah. ‘Of course the usual thing for a kangaroo to carry in its pouch is a baby, but I don't see why it shouldn't do equally well for a note-book and a pocket-handkerchief and a toothbrush and some chocolate and anything else we may need.'

‘We shall be far better off than the ordinary kind of animal,' said Dorinda, ‘and the village people will get a terrible fright when they see us coming up the street, jumping twenty feet at a time.'

‘We'll make them climb trees again,' said Dinah.

‘It's going to be a lot of fun,' said Dorinda. ‘But don't you feel a little bit strange to think that by this time to-morrow you'll be a kangaroo?'

‘Just a little,' said Dinah.

‘When do we drink the magic draught? Now?'

‘In the morning, after breakfast. And now let us go home and pack. Well, not exactly pack, because we haven't got anything to put stuff into yet.'

‘I do feel excited,' exclaimed Dorinda, and just before they reached home she stopped and very solemnly said: ‘I have often wondered what I shall be when I grow up, whether a teacher of dancing, or a circus rider, or a mother of ten, but never, never, never did I expect to be a kangaroo!'

In the Police Court at Midmeddlecum, Mr. Justice Rumple was trying Mrs. Taper the draper's wife for attempting to commit a felony, to wit, Larceny: that is to say, in ordinary language, for trying to steal two pairs of silk stockings. Mr. Justice Rumple sat on a kind of throne with the Union Jack above it, a picture of Britannia, another of the Duke of Wellington, and a Latin motto that said:
Fiat Justitia Ruat Coelum
. This terrible motto meant:

The Judge was wearing a red robe and a new wig covered with beautiful white curls, and he looked very magnificent.

Mrs. Taper, in the dock with a warder beside her, was weeping bitterly. Mr. Taper had just brought her a dozen new handkerchiefs, straight from the shop, and she had already used three of them.

The Counsel for the Prosecution was Mr. Hobson, and the Counsel for the Defence was Mr. Jobson. They were great friends, and they took it in turn to win cases. Mr. Hobson used to win on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and Mr. Jobson on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. But this arrangement, of course, had to be kept a very strict secret, or nobody would ever have paid Mr. Jobson to defend him on a Monday, a Wednesday, or a Friday. This was a Thursday, and Mr. Hobson and Mr. Jobson were therefore both agreed that Mrs. Taper should be declared Not Guilty. But nothing went as they intended.

Mr. Hobson—Counsel for the Prosecution—said to Mrs. Taper: ‘Did you intend to steal those stockings, Mrs. Taper?'

‘No!' said Mrs. Taper indignantly.

‘Oh!' said Mr. Hobson, pretending to be very disappointed. ‘I thought you did! What a pity! Well, that
is
a pity! Because if you're not guilty, I'm afraid I can't think of anything else to say.'

And sitting down again, he took a large pinch of snuff.

But Mr. Justice Rumple, who was in a bad temper, shouted at Mr. Hobson, ‘Then you're a poor fish! A very poor fish indeed, sir!' And to Mrs. Taper he roared, ‘What are you crying for, if you're not guilty?'

This made Mrs. Taper cry louder than ever, which created a bad impression on the large audience.

Then Mr. Jobson—Counsel for the Defence—made a very good speech indeed. It was so good that every now and then Mr. Hobson clapped his hands and exclaimed, ‘Well said, Jobson! Oh, well expressed, sir!' It was such a magnificent speech that all the people who had come to listen to the trial, and were sitting in court eating sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs and drinking tea out of thermos flasks, stood up when it was finished, and applauded vigorously. Some of them even shouted ‘Encore!'

And Mr. Jobson, looking very pleased with himself, also stood up, and bowed several times, and handed round a lot of visiting-cards on which was printed:

But the Judge was now in a furious rage. For some time he had been shouting ‘Clear the Court! Clear the Court!' Nobody could hear him, however, because there was so much noise, and at last he came down from his throne, rolled up his sleeves, and borrowed a truncheon from Constable Drum. With this he started to bang and belabour everybody he could reach, including Mr. Hobson and Mr. Jobson, and drove them all out of court.

Then he returned to his throne, where he sat puffing and blowing, his wig askew, and his sleeves rolled well above the elbow. ‘Now let's get on with the trial,' he said.

All this time the Jury had been sitting, very quiet and well-behaved, in the Jury-box. Some of them were playing Patience, some playing Noughts and Crosses, some were reading books, and some were knitting. They felt they were the most important people in court, and they were determined to pay no attention to anyone else. Long before the trial started, they had all decided how they were going to vote, and naturally they didn't want to hear anything that would make them change their minds. The Jury consisted of the following well-known, trustworthy, and highly respected citizens: Dr. Fosfar, Mr. and Mrs. Leathercow, Mr. and Mrs. Fullalove, Mr. and Mrs. Crumb, Mrs. Wax the chemist's wife, Mr. Whitloe the drayman, Mrs. Horrabin the ironmonger's wife, Mrs. Steeple the Vicar's wife, and Mr. Casimir Corvo, teacher of music and dancing. The Foreman of the Jury was Dr. Fosfar, who was, at this moment, polishing his glass eye with a silk handkerchief.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury,' shouted the Judge. ‘I shall give you five minutes to make up your minds and return a verdict. You have heard the evidence, you have heard Mr. Jobson talk a great deal of nonsense, and you have heard Mr. Hobson, that poor fish, say nothing at all. In my opinion Mrs. Taper ought to be sent to prison. But according to British Law, which is the best in the world——'

‘Hurrah!' shouted Constable Drum.

‘According to British Law,' continued the Judge, ‘the verdict must be decided by you. Guilty or Not Guilty: one or the other. If you decide that Mrs. Taper is Guilty, then the wretched woman will go to prison, as she so richly deserves. If you decide she is Not Guilty, then I shall have to set her free, and she'll continue to go round the country stealing silk stockings wherever she can find them.'