Читать книгу While the Story-Log Burns - Thornton Waldo Burgess - Страница 4
ОглавлениеThe Rarest Thing in the World
The Storyteller began with a question. “If you were to start out to look for the rarest thing in the world what would you look for?”
No one answered. His eyes twinkled as, looking from face to face, he saw each pair of eyes in turn avoid his and gaze with embarrassed intentness into the fire. “You’re all Peter Rabbits,” he chuckled.
For a few seconds no one spoke. Jean broke the silence. “What do you mean by Peter Rabbits? How are we Peter Rabbits?” she wanted to know.
“Just this,” replied the Storyteller: “You don’t know the answer to my question. You don’t know what you would go looking for but you won’t admit you don’t know, and that is just how it was with Peter Rabbit when he started out to look for the rarest thing in all the Great World.”
“If he didn’t know what he was looking for how could he look for it?” This was from Nancy.
“Did he find it?” demanded Willis.
“Yes, he found it,” replied the Storyteller.
“What was it?” asked Billy Blake eagerly.
“What do you think it was?” the Storyteller wanted to know, whereupon the questions ceased and once more there was united interest in the fire.
“Well, I see I shall have to tell you the story,” said the Storyteller. “It was because of the Merry Little Breezes of Old Mother West Wind that Peter started out to search for the rarest thing in all the Great World.” He paused and in his eyes was a faraway look as if somehow he saw the Merry Little Breezes and Peter and the other things he told about. David called it the “seeing look.”
“Yes, sir,” continued the Storyteller, “it was all because of the Merry Little Breezes. But for them Peter never would have thought of starting out to look for something of which he knew nothing, not even what it was. You see the Merry Little Breezes had come dancing across the Green Meadows to the dear Old Briar-patch. There they had found Peter sitting under his favorite bramble-bush twitching his wobbly little nose and chewing on nothing.”
“I’ve seen him do that!” interrupted Billy, and promptly subsided under the glare of a battery of indignant eyes.
The Storyteller went on as if there had been no interruption. “The Merry Little Breezes danced around Peter, rumpled his hair, tickled his long ears and tried to pull his whiskers. Peter didn’t mind. In fact he liked it. He is very fond of the Merry Little Breezes, and they are just as fond of him. Many times they have brought him news, good news, bad news, important news, news that has saved his life.
“ ‘Where have you been so early in the morning?’ Peter asked.
“ ‘Over in the Green Forest. What do you think we saw there?’ chanted the Merry Little Breezes.
“Peter shook his head. ‘I haven’t the least idea,’ said he.
“ ‘We saw the rarest thing in all the Great World!’ cried the Merry Little Breezes. Then they whirled and danced as only they can. They whirled and danced until all the leaves on the ground jumped up and whirled and danced with them.
“Right away Peter pricked up his long ears. ‘What is the rarest thing in all the Great World?’ he demanded.
“ ‘Don’t you wish you knew?’ teased one of the Merry Little Breezes.
“ ‘We won’t tell you, for you wouldn’t believe it if we did,’ cried another.
“ ‘But we really did see it, Peter. We really did. Perhaps you will see it if you go over to the Green Forest,’ a third added.
“ ‘How will I know it if I see it?’ Peter wanted to know.
“But the Merry Little Breezes merely laughed, tickled his ears and tried to pull his whiskers. Then they danced away as merrily as they had come. You see they dearly love to tease Peter Rabbit.
“With a long hind foot Peter scratched a long ear. Then he scratched the other long ear with the other long hind foot. He worked his wobbly little nose back and forth very fast. Peter was thinking. That is he was thinking as much as Peter ever does think. ‘Now what can the rarest thing in all the Great World be? muttered Peter to himself. But though he thought and thought and thought he didn’t get the least idea what it might be. Then he tried not to think about it, and pretended to himself that he didn’t care what it was.
“It was of no use. The more he tried not to think about it the more he did think about it. Curiosity wouldn’t let him think of anything else. So at last Peter started off. Lipperty-lipperty-lip he ran, straight for the Green Forest. As he passed Johnny Chuck’s house Johnny called to him.
“ ‘Why all the hurry, Longears?’ called Johnny Chuck.
“ ‘I’m going to look for something in the Green Forest,’ replied Peter, stopping at Johnny Chuck’s doorstep.
“ ‘You don’t say! What is it?’ replied Johnny Chuck.
“ ‘The rarest thing in all the Great World. The Merry Little Breezes told me about it. They saw it over there,’ replied Peter.
“Johnny Chuck looked puzzled. ‘What is this thing that is so rare?’ he asked.
“ ‘I don’t know. That’s why I am going over to the Green Forest—to find out,’ replied Peter, and kicking up his heels away he went, lipperty-lipperty-lipperty-lip.
“Over near the edge of the Green Forest he met Jimmy Skunk. ‘My, my, my, what a hurry you are in!’ exclaimed Jimmy. You know Jimmy never hurries.
“ ‘There is something in the Green Forest that I want to see,’ replied Peter.
“ ‘Do tell!’ exclaimed Jimmy, pretending to be very much surprised. ‘You don’t mean to say that there really is something you want to see. What is it this time?’
“ ‘It is the rarest thing in all the world,’ replied Peter promptly.
“Jimmy looked interested. ‘And just what is that?’ he asked.
“I’ll tell you when I have seen it. Come along and see it too,’ replied Peter.
“Jimmy chuckled. ‘You find it first,’ said he. ‘You’re in a hurry and you know I never hurry. I hope you won’t get tired hunting for it. If you find it drop around and tell me about it.’
“Peter said he would and once more he was off, lipperty-lipperty-lipperty-lip. Now the Green Forest is a big place and Peter had forgotten to ask the Merry Little Breezes in what part of it they had seen this thing so rare. So there was nothing he could do but to hunt all through it. He was getting a bit discouraged when he met Bobby Coon.
“ ‘Oh Bobby, have you seen it?’ cried Peter, without stopping to say good morning.
“Bobby Coon stared at Peter a moment and then grinned. ‘Probably,’ he replied. ‘There is little in the Green Forest that I haven’t seen. If you will talk sense, Peter Rabbit, and tell me just what it is that you are looking for perhaps I can help you.’
“ ‘It is the rarest thing in all the Great World and it is somewhere here in the Green Forest,’ said Peter looking as he felt, a little foolish because his first question had been such a silly one.
“ ‘First tell me what this rarest thing is and then I’ll tell you if I have seen it,’ retorted Bobby Coon.
“Of course Peter couldn’t do this so he said good-by and hurried on. ‘He’s crazy. He certainly is crazy. The idea of looking for something without knowing what it is!’ said Bobby to himself as he watched Peter scamper out of sight.
“Whitefoot the Wood Mouse, Chatterer the Red Squirrel, Unc’ Billy Possum, Sammy Jay, Trader the Wood Rat, all thought Peter quite as crazy as did Bobby Coon. Peter was discouraged and very tired but still running as he rounded a turn in the Lone Little Path and all but ran smack into Mrs. Grouse. Instantly she clucked sharply. Peter caught a glimpse of many scurrying little forms, but it was such a short glimpse that he actually wasn’t sure about it. He rubbed his eyes. No one but Mrs. Grouse was to be seen. She looked startled, relieved and a wee bit indignant.
“ ‘So it is only you, Peter Rabbit!’ exclaimed Mrs. Grouse, and added, ‘For a minute you gave me a real start.’
“ ‘Yes,’ replied Peter meekly, ‘it is only me. Tell me, Mrs. Grouse, didn’t I see a lot of your babies as I came around the turn?’
“ ‘Did you?’ asked Mrs. Grouse, pretending to be surprised.
“ ‘I thought I did. In fact I’m sure I did,’ replied Peter, looking about in every direction.
“ ‘You don’t see them now, do you?’ asked Mrs. Grouse with a satisfied chuckle.
“ ‘No,’ replied Peter. ‘No, I don’t. But I’m sure I did only a moment ago.’
“Mrs. Grouse chuckled contentedly. ‘You did, Peter, and they are right around here this minute,’ said she.
“She clucked softly. Instantly a dozen babies, much like tiny barnyard chickens, appeared on all sides as if they had popped right out of the ground. They had been lying flat and motionless under leaves and sticks and pieces of bark and they were just the color of their surroundings.
“ ‘Aren’t they darlings?’ asked their mother proudly, and of course Peter agreed that they were.
“ ‘They are only three days old but already they obey instantly. Watch now,’ ” said Mrs. Grouse.
“She gave the same sharp warning cluck that Peter had heard when he almost ran into her. Hardly was it out of her mouth before those twelve baby grouse had disappeared. Not one waited so much as a second to find out what the trouble might be, or why their mother had warned them to hide.
“Peter said that never had he seen such wonderfully trained children and a lot more nice things that pleased their proud mother. You know Peter and Mrs. Grouse are old friends. Then Peter remembered what had brought him to the Green Forest and straightway asked Mrs. Grouse if she had seen the rarest thing in all the Great World, but as he couldn’t tell her what it was she couldn’t help him any.
“Just as the Black Shadows started to creep out from the Purple Hills where they had been hiding all day Peter crept into the dear Old Briar-patch. He was tired, very tired. He was even more disappointed. Just as he had settled himself comfortably under his favorite bramble-bush the Merry Little Breezes came dancing around him. They rumpled his hair, tickled his ears and tried to pull his whiskers.
“ ‘Did you see the rarest thing in all the Great World?’ they cried.
“ ‘No,’ replied Peter rather crossly.
“ ‘Yes you did! Yes you did!’ chanted the Merry Little Breezes. ‘You saw it over in the Green Forest when you met Mrs. Grouse.’
“Peter sat up abruptly. ‘No such thing!’ said he indignantly. ‘I saw Mrs. Grouse and her twelve babies, but that is all. I didn’t see another thing.’
“ ‘But you did! You did!’ shouted the Merry Little Breezes as they danced around him gleefully. ‘You saw perfect obedience and that is—’ ” The Storyteller paused.
“The rarest thing in all the Great World!” chorused the children. Just then the last of the story-log flared up in yellow flame that flickered for a moment and went out.
“Right,” said the Storyteller. “Never forget it. Now on with your things and home with you before the telephone begins ringing to find out where you are! One thing more!” he added as the children started to rise. “Come fifteen minutes earlier next story night.”
“Why?” asked Freddie.
“You will find out when you get here,” replied the Storyteller and would say no more.
