[18]“I shall call my kitten Buff,” said Rose, touching the little yellow ball gently.
“And mine shall be Fluff,” said Kenneth, who liked to make rhymes sometimes. “Oh, I am so glad that we took Christine in out of the snow, Rose! For if we hadn’t, perhaps Santa would never have thought of leaving us these dear little kittens.”
And I shouldn’t wonder if Kenneth was right.
CHAPTER III THE JAPANESE SHOP
ONE day, not very long after Christmas, Mrs. Thornton said to Rose,—
“Rose, dear, I am going to the Japanese Shop to buy a wedding present, and I think you would like to go, wouldn’t you?”
“What is a Japanese Shop?” asked Rose.
“Oh, it is a very wonderful shop,” said her mamma. “I can’t begin to tell you about all the curious things which they sell in a Japanese Shop. You must come and see for yourself.”
So Rose put on her hat and coat and went with her mother to the Japanese Shop. What a wonderful place it was, indeed! Rose felt just as if she were in some strange, new kind of Fairyland, such as she had never before heard about. Everything was colored so bright and beautiful! There were such queer-shaped things sitting about on the floor and standing[20] up in the corners! Curious lanterns swung from the ceiling, and tall screens of black and gold, with pictures of wonderful long-legged birds flying across, made dark nooks, in which strange bronze animals lurked surprisingly. Everything smelt sweet and rich, too, almost with the Christmas-tree fragrance of mamma’s holiday secret.
Rose wandered about by herself while her mother was looking at the funny lamps hiding under colored umbrellas, which she called wedding presents, though Rose did not understand why. They did not interest her like Christmas presents, which were very different. But over in a corner, all by itself, Rose found something which she thought would make the loveliest Christmas present,—the most wonderful Christmas present that any little girl could have. And oh! how she wanted it for her very own!
It was a toy garden; the kind that is put into the guest-room of a Japanese house to amuse visitors.
[21]My! It was a wonderful little garden,—a real, truly live garden, with growing trees and plants and moss. But it was all so tiny that it could stand on a little table no wider than Rose’s arm was long. And though the trees were really, truly grown-up trees, a great deal older than Rose,—older even than her mamma, whom Rose thought very old indeed,—they were no taller than Rose’s little hand.
This is the way the garden looked. First, it was almost square and there was a little stone wall all around it, about an inch high. In the middle of the garden was a hill built of rocks, and on the top of the hill was a lawn of green moss, with a tiny pagoda, or Japanese house, no bigger than a match-box. The sides of the hill sloped down, very green and smooth, and at the foot was a little brook of real water, winding around the whole garden. The tiniest path of sand crept zig-zag down the hill to a bit of a red bridge that crossed the brook, for the people in the house at the top of the hill to use. And all along the brook grew little[22] baby plants, and the wonderful dwarf trees that I told you about. Pine-trees they were, most of them, and the pine needles had fallen on the ground and had turned rusty brown, just as everyday pine needles do. Only these were ten times smaller. Rose wondered who lived in the little house at the top of the hill, and she said to herself:—
“Oh, how I wish I were little enough to live in that dear little house, and play in that sweet little garden, and climb up into those darling little trees! Oh, how I wish I could be littler!” And that was something which Rose had never before wished.
Just then Rose heard a cough behind her, and looking around she saw that the funny Japanese Man who kept the store was standing close at her elbow. He was smiling very pleasantly, so Rose said to him:—
“Oh, Mr. Japanese Man! I think you can tell me who lives in the dear little house and plays in the dear little garden and paddles in the dear little brook. Will you, please?”
[23]The Japanese Man bowed and grinned, and looked at Rose for a minute without saying anything. Then he went away to the other end of the store. Presently he came back, and he had something in his hands. He set a little Somebody down beside the house on the top of the hill; and it was a tiny little old man made of china-stuff, in a long green gown, with a knob of hair on the back of his head, like a lady.
“He live in house, litty ol’ man,” said the Japanese. “And these, his animals; live in garden.” As he said this the Japanese Man set down on the bridge the littlest baby white rabbit, and in the brook a tiny-winy duck, which floated on the water, and under one of the trees a wee-wee mouse, with pink ears.
“Oh!” cried Rose, clapping her hands. “Oh! how I wish I could be little enough to play there with them. Are they alive, Mr. Japanese Man?”
The Man grinned more than ever. Then[24] he came close up to Rose and whispered behind his hand, as though it were a great secret:—
“No, not alive now. But after dark, when moon shines, and store all empty—all big folks gone away—then all come alive. My—my! Litty ol’ man walk down hill, go fishy in brook. Duck say ‘Quack quack!’ Litty rabbit hop so-so over bridge. Litty mouse cry ‘Wee, wee!’ and climb up pine-tree. My! Litty girl like to see?”
“Oh! Have you ever seen?” cried Rose with her eyes very wide.
But just then her mamma came back, with a bundle under her arm, which was probably a little Wedding Present, though Rose did not care enough about it to inquire. But she was very sorry when the Japanese Man bowed politely and walked away to the other end of the store. She had wanted to ask him a great many more questions.
“Come, Rose,” said her mother; “we must go home now.”
“O Mamma! I want it!” sighed Rose wistfully.
“Want what? The garden? Oh, my Dear! I cannot buy you that,” said her mamma sadly; “it costs dollars and dollars. But maybe I could buy you the mouse, or the duck, or the rabbit, or the little old gentleman up there. Would you like one of them, Dear?”
“Oh, no!” cried Rose. “It would be dreadful to take them away from their lovely garden. I wouldn’t have one of them for anything. Think how lonesome he would be when it grew dark and they all came alive!”
On the way home Rose told her mamma the great secret, which the Japanese Man had told her. And her mamma thought it was all very strange indeed, and said she wished that she too was little enough to play in the wonderful garden with Rose and that interesting family.
When they reached home Rose told Kenneth all about the toy garden, and the secret which the Japanese Man had told her. But[26] Kenneth only said, “Pooh! I don’t believe a word of it,” which was very disappointing. But, of course, Kenneth had not seen the garden, nor heard the Japanese Man tell the secret, which made a great difference.
When it was dark Rose went to bed, and in a little while her mamma came to kiss her good-night. Rose held her tightly by the hand and made her sit down on the edge of the bed, where the moonlight shone like silver.
“O Mamma!” she whispered. “Think of the shop, all dark and empty now, with just one moonbeam shining on the little garden in the corner. And the little old man comes alive, pop! like that! Now he goes walking out of his house, down the little path over the hill. And the bunny-rabbit scampers in front of him, hoppity-hop! Can’t you see him, Mamma? Now they come to the little bridge; the funny duck says ‘Quack, quack!’ and swims away round and round the garden. Now the little old man sits down under one of the tiny pine-trees and begins to fish in the[27] brook. And the wee-wee mouse runs up and down the tree and nibbles the cheese which the old man has in his pocket for bait. O Mamma, I can see it all, just as plainly! I wish I were there.”
“I can almost see it, too,” said Mamma.
“O Mamma, I think I could grow little just as easily as they could come alive. Don’t you?” said Rose.
Her mother answered, “We-el, perhaps.”
But she would never take Rose to the Japanese shop after dark, to see whether or not it could be done. Maybe she was afraid that Rose might grow little and stay little always—which would have been a dreadful thing for her mamma. But Rose thinks that she herself would like it very well indeed,—to live always in that wonderful garden with the mouse and the duck and the rabbit and the funny little old man,—if only Kenneth would grow little, too. But Kenneth does not want to grow little. He is trying just as hard as he can, every day, to grow big.
CHAPTER IV APRIL FOOL’S NIGHT
ON the night of April Fool’s day Kenneth had a strange adventure. It was Kenneth’s way to direct his dreamland journey toward Fairyland, where, if he but knows the secret how, a child can have the pleasantest possible times. On this particular night Kenneth shut his eyes tight and said the magic words which are the ticket on the Fairy Railroad; and presto! as usual, he found himself spinning through space into the realm where he would be. He kept his eyes shut tight, however, for every wise child knows that he must not peep during that wonderful journey, nor try to find out how it is done, or he will never be able to go again. It was only when a soft little jounce told him that the trip was over that Kenneth opened his eyes and ventured to look around.
[29]Yes, there he was, sure enough! He remembered the glittering Christmas-tree avenue which led up from the station. He remembered the beautiful flower beds on either side of the path—fairy beds where the flowers could talk prettily, and answer any questions which a child might ask. He remembered the white marble palace which gleamed beyond the Christmas trees, a palace full of wonder and delight. He hastened toward it up the hill. Yes, this was certainly the Fairyland of his dreams, where he always had such a lovely, lovely time; where all that he wished came true in the most marvelous way, and where delightful surprises were continually happening to give him pleasure. Kenneth smacked his lips already at thought of the goodies he would have to eat, and his fingers wriggled eagerly, longing to clutch the wonder-toys which he knew were growing somewhere about for him, when he had time to look for them.
Now there was no one to meet him at the[30] station, and Kenneth thought this strange. For he had expected to find his usual guide, a pretty little gauze fairy in spangled white, with a wand and crown and all the dainty ornaments which fairies wear. Kenneth was not greatly troubled, however, for he had been to Fairyland so often that he knew the country very well indeed, and he was not at all bashful nor afraid to help himself if he should see anything which pleased him.
He began briskly to walk up the avenue, on either side of which the flowers nodded and smiled at him, saying, “Good evening, Kenneth. How are you to-night?”
Kenneth laughed and nodded back, thinking to himself, “How very pretty they look! I never before saw them so gorgeous and beautiful. They must be perfumed with extra sweetness; I will go and see.” And, stepping up to a great bed of lilies, he bent over them, giving a deep, deep sniff; for Kenneth loved dearly the fragrance of flowers.
“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!” Kenneth[31] sneezed, and sneezed again, so that his head almost fell off. “Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!” He reeled and staggered as he turned away. And all the flowers laughed so that they nearly snapped their slender stalks. They seemed to find it a great joke.
“You dreadful flowers! You are full of snuff! Achoo!” he cried indignantly.
“Aha! Aha! You know all about it!” cried the flowers. “The trick is not new to you; but is it not funny? Aha! Aha!”
Kenneth did not think it at all funny as he ran on up the pathway, sneezing painfully at every step. At last he paused to wipe his eyes. “Achoo! Achoo!” Poor boy! He was fairly weak with his efforts, and spying a little seat near by under a tree, thought he would sit down to rest a minute and get his breath before going on his way. It was a funny little seat, like a great toadstool, and it looked very comfortable. But no sooner had Kenneth seated himself, than the wretched thing sank down into the ground, leaving[32] him with a bump on the gravel of the avenue.
“Aha! Aha!” cried the flowers, tittering foolishly when they saw Kenneth sprawling. “Oh, how funny you do look! What a good joke! How clever! We shall die laughing!”
“You are very silly flowers,” said Kenneth, pouting. “You laugh at nothing at all. I never knew you to be so disagreeable.” And, trying to look very dignified in spite of his dusty jacket, he jumped up and strode down the avenue. The inviting little round seats seemed to have sprung up everywhere like mushrooms since his last visit, but he was too cautious to sit down again, although he was very tired.
Kenneth walked so fast to escape the mortifying laughter which rang from the flower-bells, that he had almost passed the last Christmas tree before he remembered the magic fruit which they always bore for him.
“Hello!” he cried. “I meant to look for a new jack-knife. I always find just what I[33] want on these trees. Why, yes—there is one now, right over my head. Oh, what a beauty!” He reached up to grasp it as it swung about a foot above his nose. But at the very moment when Kenneth stretched out his hand, the tree gave a sudden jerk and up flew the knife quite out of reach.
“Oh!” cried Kenneth, stamping his foot angrily. “What made it do that?”
“Ha, ha!” snickered the flowers, who had been peeping at him from a distance. “What a joke! Try again, Kenneth.” And Kenneth tried again and again, jumping after the knife more frantically each time. But it was of no use. A malicious breeze, or some other cause, seemed to bend the tree away from him whenever he reached toward it. And at last he gave up in disgust.
“I wanted a fountain pen, too,” he said to himself. “There ought to be one on another tree. Yes, here it is.” And once more Kenneth reached eagerly for the shining black thing that dangled close by his hand.
[34]Pop! Kenneth was half blinded by a stream of water that spurted into his eye. It was no fountain pen, but a fountain pop-gun that had gone off when he touched it.
“Ha, ha!” shrieked the flowers, in a perfect madness of delight. Kenneth sat down on the grass to wipe his eyes and dry the little river that was running most uncomfortably up his coat sleeve. But my! How quickly he sprang up again! The grass that looked so tempting and soft was a cruel snare. For some one had wickedly planted it with pins or needles. Poor Kenneth! This was too much.
It is no fun to find one’s self a human pincushion. He began to cry, and even then he heard the voices of the flowers sounding faintly, and they were laughing still. He glanced toward them angrily, then tucked his hands into his pockets and resolved not to let them see him cry. He marched away up the avenue without a glance into the Christmas trees, although they dangled the most interesting[35] bundles before his face and seemed trying to tempt him to pluck their magic fruit. He also kept off the grass more carefully than if there had been a staring signboard to warn him.
