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A Prisoner in Fairyland (The Book That 'Uncle Paul' Wrote)

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 2781    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

e stars w

with o

he birds

cross th

ght is

road for

r the Gre

are thr

hase

ever wa

were not

wn on the

Song of th

n (Algonq

or, J. D

id. They were aware that it was invention only. These things he told about he had not experienced himself. For they badly needed a leader, these children; and Daddy just missed filling the position. He was too 'clever,' his imagination neither wild nor silly

y, almost outside the window. Mother now snored audibly.

se-?' he began. It was the sudden idea t

N

heard

is it,

on. Stories always begin like that.' It was

s of them about the world, and one I know of is up here in our mountains,' he pointed through the north wall towards the pine-clad Jura, 'not far from the slopes of Boudr

know,' whispered Jimbo, his bl

e,' came the explanation, 'where there are

ore exactl

the earth they disappear and go out like a candle. Unless a chance puddle, or a pair of eyes happens t

f eyes they'd be lost just t

'changed a little-increased

children stared, expect

ving themselves away! What is a puddle worth until a Star's wee golden face shines out of it? And then

ne, remembering that the wonderful women in t

eir light puts sympathy in you, and on

t from some one else. It was not his own idea, nor had he captured it completely yet. Like a wandering little inspiration from another mind it seemed pa

Daddy so often got muddled and inattentive in thi

Monkey, her eyes very bright; 'it sort

What's it like? The Cave, I mean?' Jinny stuck

and has a little tiny perfume like wild violets, and by walking through i

oft-shiny

rose and half-moon.

w-like

adventure was not instantly accepted, 'you shine, and your ey

're not?' in

you

in a mysterious whisper. He felt a curious excitement. This, he fe

out into yellow flowers like dandelions and buttercups. A little, too, slips below the ground and fills up empty cracks between the rocks. Then it hardens, gets dirty, and men dig it out again and call it gold.

e Cavern,' asked Monkey impa

obody loves you unless you've got a bit of it somewhere on you. A girl, before any one falls in love with her, has always been the

th it?' Jinny burst out with sudden eagerness, ever thinking of ot

ng ago. But it didn't stick very well with me. It wipes

child insisted. 'And you

perhaps, a

erstanding it. There was a moment's pause. Th

it to us-now,

nd then began to murmur very low for fear of waking Mother: he almost sang it to them.

rli

long m

to a ball of

ttle

ngled

want to get

pattern of a

st un

tted, looped, an

get it straight

my verse

fering su

passion through

it dow

ider-gossamer o

't

l it

a faint laughter, quickly over, but containing sighs. Only Jinny stared straight into her fat

bjected anxiously. 'It ought to come after "I call it

st always put others before yourself. It'

,' she said, 'I see; of course.' The long word blocke

egs and folded his arms. He was not going to express an opinion until he understood better what it was all

on it, 'what is wumbled, really? There's no such thing, is there?-In life, I

Jimbo and Monkey whispered more busily still among themselves about something el

she urged, determined to clear up a

tory,' he replied with a si

usly. They ceased their mysterious whispering. They clearly did

roud of an explanation that excused him, yet left his glory

ly into my mind. It lies there in a knot. My plot is wumbled. I can

beauty lies there still.' She got

for you one day. I'll unwumble it. I'll do it like a compa

sure you will. Only, you'd better let me know when you'r

you're asleep,' she told him, so low that the others could not hear. 'I'll

. 'Come when I'm asleep and all the stars are

e,' added Monk

y could remember. Then Mother and Riquette woke up together, and the spell was broken. The party scattered. Only Jimbo and his younger sister, retiring into a corner by themselves, continued their mysterious confabulation. Their faces were flushed with ex

r at the Pension and lay in bed, exchanging their last mys

nd that Cavern where th

aciously, 'I've al

ay, then?' she asked ea

hes, then added, 'Of course I will.' He merely

r there.' It was their game to believ

he ramoneur was already in the chimney and that unless they were asleep in five minutes he would come and catch them by the tail. For the Sw

garments were folded in a precise, neat pile upon the chair. They looked ready to be packed into a parcel. His habits were so orderly. His school blouse hung on the back, the knickerbockers were carefully folded, and the black belt lay coiled in a circle on his coat and

espective owners. This done, she laid the table in the outer room for their breakfast at half-past six, saw that their school-books and satchels were in order, gave them each a little more unnecessary tucking-up and a kiss so soft it could not have wa

ocoa before retiring, she to her self-made bed upon the sofa, and he to his room in the carpenter's house outside the village. But sometimes he did not come. He remained in the Pension to smoke and chat with the Russian and Armenian students, w

s or the soft noise of the collapsing peat ashes broke the sti

ntally she shrugged her shoulders. Daddy had long ago left that inner preserve of her heart where she

ympathy. She might equally have said, 'I wish he would do something to bring in a litt

esh spring night, where April turned in her sle

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