Chapter Chapter 39 · The Fairy Godmother

. The Fairy Godmother

The sun had gone down quite out of sight when our hero--with

a happy heart but with something like a sneer on his countenance as

he jerked off the wooden “runners”--trudged hopefully toward the tiny

hutlike building, known of old as the “idiot’s cottage.”

Duller eyes than his would have discerned two slight figures moving near

the doorway.

That gray well-patched jacket and the dull blue skirt covered with an

apron of still duller blue, that faded close-fitting cap, and those

quick little feet in their great boatlike shoes, they were Gretel’s of

course. He would have known them anywhere.

That bright coquettish red jacket, with its pretty skirt, bordered with

black, that graceful cap bobbing over the gold earrings, that dainty

apron, and those snug leather shoes that seemed to have grown with the

feet--why if the Pope of Rome had sent them to him by express, Hans

could have sworn they were Annie’s.

The two girls were slowly pacing up and down in front of the cottage.

Their arms were entwined, of course, and their heads were nodding and

shaking as emphatically as if all the affairs of the kingdom were under

discussion.

With a joyous shout Hans hastened toward them.

“Huzza, girls, I’ve found work!”

This brought his mother to the cottage door.

She, too, had pleasant tidings. The father was still improving. He had

been sitting up nearly all day and was now sleeping as Dame Brinker

declared, “Just as quiet as a lamb.”

“It is my turn now, Hans,” said Annie, drawing him aside after he had

told his mother the good word from Mynheer van Holp. “Your skates are

sold, and here’s the money.”

“Seven guilders!” cried Hans, counting the pieces in astonishment. “Why,

that is three times as much as I paid for them.”

“I cannot help that,” said Annie. “If the buyer knew no better, that is

not our fault.”

Hans looked up quickly.

“Oh, Annie!”

“Oh, Hans!” she mimicked, pursing her lips, and trying to look

desperately wicked and unprincipled.

“Now, Annie, I know you would never mean that! You must return some of

this money.”

“But I’ll not do any such thing,” insisted Annie. “They’re sold, and

that’s an end of it.” Then, seeing that he looked really pained, she

added in a lower tone, “Will you believe me, Hans, when I say that there

has been no mistake, that the person who bought your skates INSISTED

upon paying seven guilders for them?”

“I will,” he answered, and the light from his clear blue eyes seemed to

settle and sparkle under Annie’s lashes.

Dame Brinker was delighted at the sight of so much silver, but when she

learned that Hans had parted with his treasures to obtain it, she sighed

and then exclaimed, “Bless thee, child! That will be a sore loss for

thee!”

“Here, Mother,” said the boy, plunging his hands far into his pocket,

“here is more--we shall be rich if we keep on!”

“Aye, indeed,” she answered, eagerly reaching forth her hand. Then,

lowering her voice, added, “We SHOULD be rich but for that Jan

Kamphuisen. He was at the willow tree years ago, Hans. Depend upon it!”

“Indeed, it seems likely,” sighed Hans. “Well, Mother, we must give up

the money bravely. It is certainly gone. The father has told us all he

knows. Let us think no more about it.”

“That’s easy saying, Hans. I shall try, but it’s hard and my poor man

wanting so many comforts. Bless me! How girls fly about! They were here

but this instant. Where did they run to?”

“They slipped behind the cottage,” said Hans, “like enough to hide from

us. Hist! I’ll catch them for you! They both can move quicker and softer

than yonder rabbit, but I’ll give them a good start first.”

“Why, there IS a rabbit, sure enough. Hold, Hans, the poor thing

must have been in sore need to venture from its burrow in this bitter

weather. I’ll get a few crumbs for it within.”

So saying, the good woman bustled into the cottage. She soon came out

again, but Hans had forgotten to wait, and the rabbit, after taking

a cool survey of the premises, had scampered off to unknown quarters.

Turning the corner of the cottage, Dame Brinker came upon the children.

Hans and Gretel were standing before Annie, who was seated carelessly

upon a stump.

“That is as good as a picture!” cried Dame Brinker, halting in

admiration of the group. “Many a painting have I seen at the grand house

at Heidelberg not a whit prettier. My two are rough chubs, Annie, but

YOU look like a fairy.”

“Do I?” laughed Annie, sparkling with animation. “Well, then, Gretel and

Hans, imagine I’m your godmother just paying you a visit. Now I’ll grant

you each a wish. What will you have, Master Hans?”

A shade of earnestness passed over Annie’s face as she looked up at him;

perhaps it was because she wished from the depths of her heart that for

once she could have a fairy’s power.

Something whispered to Hans that, for a moment, she was more than

mortal. “I wish,” said he solemnly, “that I could find something I was

searching for last night!”

Gretel laughed merrily. Dame Brinker moaned. “Shame on you, Hans!” And

she went wearily into the cottage.

The fairy godmother sprang up and stamped her foot three times.

“Thou shalt have thy wish,” said she. “Let them say what they will.”

Then, with playful solemnity, she put her hand in her apron pocket and

drew forth a large glass bead. “Bury this,” said she, giving it to Hans,

“where I have stamped, and ere moonrise thy wish shall be granted.”

Gretel laughed more merrily than ever.

The godmother pretended great displeasure.

“Naughty child,” said she, scowling terribly. “In punishment for

laughing at a fairy, THY wish shall not be granted.”

“Ha!” cried Gretel in high glee, “better wait till you’re asked,

godmother. I haven’t made any wish!”

Annie acted her part well. Never smiling, through all their merry

laughter, she stalked away, the embodiment of offended dignity.

“Good night, fairy!” they cried again and again.

“Good night, mortals!” she called out at last as she sprang over a

frozen ditch and ran quickly homeward.

“Oh, isn’t she just like flowers--so sweet and lovely!” cried Gretel,

looking after her in great admiration. “And to think how many days she

stays in that dark room with her grandmother. Why, brother Hans! What is

the matter? What are you going to do?”

“Wait and see!” answered Hans as he plunged into the cottage and came

out again, all in an instant, bearing the spade and ysbreeker in his

hands. “I’m going to bury my magic bead!”

Raff Brinker still slept soundly. His wife took a small block of peat

from her nearly exhausted store and put it upon the embers. Then opening

the door, she called gently, “Come in, children.”

“Mother! Mother! See here!” shouted Hans.

“Holy Saint Bavon!” exclaimed the dame, springing over the doorstep.

“What ails the boy!”

“Come quick, Mother,” he cried in great excitement, working with all his

might and driving in the ysbreeker at each word. “Don’t you see? THIS is

the spot--right here on the south side of the stump. Why didn’t we think

of it last night? THE STUMP is the old willow tree--the one you cut down

last spring because it shaded the potatoes. That little tree wasn’t here

when Father... Huzza!”

Dame Brinker could not speak. She dropped on her knees beside Hans just

in time to see him drag forth THE OLD STONE POT!

He thrust in his hand and took out a piece of brick, then another, then

another, then the stocking and the pouch, black and moldy, but filled

with the long-lost treasure!

Such a time! Such laughing! Such crying! Such counting after they went

into the cottage! It was a wonder that Raff did not waken. His dreams

were pleasant, however, for he smiled in his sleep.

Dame Brinker and her children had a fine supper, I can assure you. No

need of saving the delicacies now.

“We’ll get Father some nice fresh things tomorrow,” Dame Brinker said as

she brought forth cold meat, wine, bread, and jelly, and placed them on

the clean pine table. “Sit by, children, sit by.”

That night Annie fell asleep wondering whether it was a knife Hans had

lost and thinking how funny it would be if he should find it, after all.

Hans had scarcely closed his eyes before he found himself trudging along

a thicket; pots of gold were lying all around, and watches and skates,

and glittering beads were swinging from every branch.

Strange to say, each tree, as he approached it, changed into a stump,

and on the stump sat the prettiest fairy imaginable, clad in a scarlet

jacket and a blue petticoat.