Читать книгу Puck's Broom - E. Gordon Browne - Страница 27

Table of Contents

George Arrives

GEORGE HENRY was born under a lucky star, which means that a star laughed when he came into the world. This happens to very, very few of us; perhaps it is because we are born naughty and ready to be stood in the corner at once.

The fairies knew all about George Henry, however, and were delighted, for he was a darling boy. Puck brought them the news wrapped up in a leaf and packed inside a nutshell in order to keep it dry.

Of course you have heard of Puck. He is the little fairy who often plays mischievous tricks upon people; but if children behave nicely he is always ready to be their friend.

Santa Claus often pays him a visit about Christmas-time in order to find out if any children have not been as good as gold during the past year. Then the naughty children find their stockings empty on Christmas morning, and wish and wish—too late—that they had thought in time of what Father and Mother had told them.

Well, the fairies danced that night in the greenwood to the music of the cricket, the grasshopper, and the frog. Puck told them all about George Henry and what a very fine boy he was going to be.

George's father and mother thought so too, and Nurse said that he was the finest child she had ever seen. Nurses always know.

The birds and animals soon heard the news too, and there was such a chattering, jabbering, twittering, squeaking, and I really don't know how to tell you what other curious noises in the wood that night.

This 'wonder-child,' as the fairies called him, was named George Henry—'George' after his grandfather, who gave him a large silver drinking-mug as a christening present, and 'Henry' after his father. His mother would have liked to add 'Alexander' as a third name, but it was given, after all, to a new black, woolly puppy which came into the house about this time; so that was all right. It is a great pity to waste fine names like Alexander.

George Henry and Alexander grew up together and were great friends. Alexander learned to walk long before his little playmate, who used to toddle along holding on to the dog's tail, and very often falling over on top of him when his legs grew tired.

As soon as he got past his toddle-days he loved to walk about everywhere and see everything.

The world was full of the most wonderful things; there was a pigsty in which lived a family of little pigs with curly tails. They used to squeak "Good-morning" to him every time he passed by.

He loved their curly tails, and often tried to make Alexander's tail like theirs, but it was of no use. It either stood straight up on end or else disappeared between his legs.

It was fine, too, to see the geese marching along like soldiers with the old gander at their head; to watch the old hen fussing and clucking after her little fluffy chicks, who would never come home when they were told—"Like naughty little boys, you know," said Nurse.

It would take hours to tell you all the things Alexander and he saw together—the animals, the birds, the trees, the flowers; and they all loved him. But he never saw the fairies—though they often waved their little hands to him; and Puck sometimes rode on Alexander's back through the woods and led them to all the prettiest spots—but George never knew.

By and by, when they had grown up a little more, and George was in sailor trousers, while Alexander had a great big bark which quite made you jump the first time you heard it, Father and Mother began to wonder what George would be when he became a man.

He loved playing at soldiers, and had boxes and boxes full of them which Grandfather and Grandmother, uncles and aunts, and other kind people gave him from time to time. He played with them on the nursery floor, up and down stairs until the housemaid, Anne, fell over them, on his bed when he ought to have been asleep, until Father said: "Ah, the boy will be a general and win great battles when he grows up!"

"No!" answered Mother. "George is born for something better than that."

He knew all about everything in the shop windows, better than even the people to whom the shops belonged.

"He will be a great merchant!" said his grandfather.

"Pooh!" answered Mother. "Buying and selling? My little George was not born for that."

He began to use paper and pencil, and then a paint-box.

"Ah!" said the aunt who had given him all these things. "George will be a great artist who will draw and paint most wonderful pictures."

"Rubbish!" replied Mother. "George was born to do something great. He can always draw pictures to amuse himself."

Then he learned to write, and wrote the most wonderful stories which no one except himself could understand.

"He will be a great writer and write stories which everybody will read," said his grandmother.

"I never heard such nonsense!" cried his mother, quite vexed. "Don't I tell you that he is going to do great things? Anybody can write stories; besides, he might sit up late at night and catch colds and I don't know what else if he began writing stories!"

Puck was delighted to hear them all guessing in this way, and laughed until he fell off the top of a big sunflower on which he was sitting.

"Oh, dear!" he cried. "How funny these big people are!" And he flew away into the wood to tell the fairies all about it.

They laughed and laughed for days and days, and were never tired of hearing Puck talk like Grandfather, Father, Mother, and Aunt.

Even the old bull-frog in the large pond, right in the middle of the darkest part of the wood, croaked "Ker-ek!" which was his way of laughing. He always had a cold, poor fellow, because his feet were never, never dry, and nobody ever thinks of giving frogs medicine. Perhaps they have neither nurses nor aunts.

And so the days and months went by, and presently George was big enough to go to school. It was quite a nice school, so Puck said, for he went there when he had time. Puck liked to listen to the fairy stories best of all, and often sat on the teacher's shoulder and whispered in her ear. You would have been surprised and delighted to hear what splendid stories she told the children on those days, and she could never imagine how they came into her head.

Now, it is a very sad thing to have to tell you, but Puck soon found out that George did not believe that there were any fairies, nor—worse still—that there ever had been any.

One day he actually fell asleep when the very best story of all was being told! Puck didn't know what was to be done, and the fairies couldn't help him, for they had never heard of a boy like this before. "Dear me!" they said. "If there were no fairies how could there be any fairy stories? How stupid of little George not to believe in us! We believe in him, and he is only a boy and not a fairy at all."

So Puck set to work to think what to do, and went wandering through the woods, asking all the birds, all the beasts, and even the insects if they knew what to do with a boy called George who didn't believe in the fairies. None of them were able to help him. An old horned beetle said, "I should pinch him!" but Puck didn't think that pinching was of much use.

When George went to bed, Puck used to sit on his pillow and tell him the most beautiful dreams, but George forgot all about them when he woke up. What can one do with a boy like that?

Nurse, however, just nodded her head wisely and said: "Wait and see!" There are thousands of nurses saying the same thing all over the world. They just know what will happen later on, and that is all. They never tell anyone else. If they do they are not real nurses, and should be given a month's notice.

George's nurse was what people called a 'comfortable' person. She was big and round, and her shoes creaked just now and again—quite a lady-like creak. She did not often smile, but when she did you felt sure the sun was shining and that the world was a jolly place to live in. Nurses—real nurses—know everything; very likely they have been taught by the fairies, but if you asked your nurse this question she would never tell you. Oh no!

Nurse always spoke of Alexander as "that black imp," but he knew how to coax a piece of biscuit from her whenever he wished. He used to sit down on the nursery hearth-rug with his head on one side, thump gently with his tail on the floor, and bark very gently, "Wuff! Wuff!" without stopping, for ever so long.

It must be a grand thing to be a dog like Alexander whenever one wants a biscuit.

George was very busy just now, for he had made up his mind to be an aviator. An aviator is a man who flies up in the air on a machine which looks something like a large bird, and makes a noise like ever so many cats quarrelling. It flies straight up, and then before you can say "Knife!" it is out of sight. There are no tunnels or stations, no tickets such as you have on the railway. You just go straight ahead until you get there.

No wonder George didn't think about the fairies when his head was full of such wonderful things.

But Father said: "Time enough to fly when you are grown up."

Mother said: "An aviator? No, George, darling! You can come for a ride in the carriage with me this afternoon."

And Nurse said—of course, the same as before.

And so the months and the years went by; George grew bigger, Alexander grew fatter, Nurse grew more and more comfortable, and Puck grew crosser and crosser. At last, one day, everybody woke up and said: "George Henry is eight years old to-morrow!"