The Magic Nuts

  Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced fromscanned images of public domain material from the GooglePrint archive.

  Book Cover]

  THE MAGIC NUTS

  THE UNSELFISH MERMAID. _Frontispiece._]

  THE MAGIC NUTS

  BY

  MRS. MOLESWORTHAUTHOR OF 'CARROTS,' 'CUCKOO CLOCK,' 'TELL ME A STORY,' ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED BY ROSIE M. M. PITMAN

  LondonMACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITEDNEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY1898

  In childhood, when with eager eyes The season-measured years I viewed, All garbed in fairy guise.

  CARDINAL NEWMAN.

  I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE STORYTO MY GRAND-DAUGHTERVIOLET SARA MOLESWORTH

  19 SUMNER PLACE, S.W., _February_ 1898.

  CONTENTS

  PAGE CHAPTER I NIGHT AND MORNING 1 CHAPTER II APPLES AND NUTS 17 CHAPTER III IT IS HILDEGARDE 33 CHAPTER IV ON THE WAY 49 CHAPTER V 'WHAT'S O'CLOCK?' 65 CHAPTER VI GNOMELAND 81 CHAPTER VII A COLLATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES 99 CHAPTER VIII TREE-TOP LAND 115 CHAPTER IX A CONCERT 132 CHAPTER X THE BLUE-SILK ROOM 148 CHAPTER XI 'THE UNSELFISH MERMAID' 162 CHAPTER XII 'THE UNSELFISH MERMAID' (_continued_) 179

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  VIGNETTE _On Title page_ THE UNSELFISH MERMAID _Frontispiece_ "TAKE THESE," SHE SAID, "FOR GOOD LUCK" _To face page_ 20 PORTRAIT OF HILDEGARDE 33 "I MUST GIVE YOU ONE OR TWO WARNINGS" 76 MANUFACTURING LUCKY PENNIES 86 "WHO SENT YOU TO KISS US, YOU BREEZES OF MAY" 115 THE UNSELFISH MERMAID 162

  CHAPTER I

  NIGHT AND MORNING

  The way was long.

  _Lay of the Last Minstrel._

  Little Leonore pressed her face against the window of the railwaycarriage and tried hard to see out. But it was no use. It all looked sodark and black, all the darker and blacker for the glimmer of therain-drops trickling down thickly outside, and reflecting the feeblelight of the lamp in the roof of the compartment.

  Leonore sighed deeply. She was very tired, more tired than she knew, forshe did not feel sleepy, or as if she would give anything to beundressed and go to bed. On the contrary, she wished with all her heartthat it was daylight, and that it would leave off raining, and that shecould get out of the stuffy old railway train, and go for a good run.It had been raining for _so_ long, and they had been such a lot of hoursshut in and bum-bumming along in this dreary way--it even seemed to hernow and then as if she had _always_ been sitting in her corner likethis, and that it had _always_ been night and _always_ raining outside.

  'I don't believe I'm going to be happy at all at Alten,' she said toherself. 'I'm sure it's going to be horrid. It's always the way ifpeople tell you anything's going to be lovely and nice, it's sure to bedull, and--just horrid.'

  She glanced at the other end of the railway carriage where a lady,comfortably muffled up in the corner, was sleeping peacefully. She wasnot an old lady, but she was not young. To Leonore she seemed pastcounting her age, for she never appeared to get older, and during thesix or seven years she had been the little girl's governess she had notchanged at all.

  'I wish I could go to sleep like Fraulein,' was the next thought thatcame into her busy brain. 'When she wakes she'll think I have beenasleep, for she did tuck me up nicely. And I'm feeling as cross ascross.'

  Then her eyes fell on the little cushion and the railway rug that shehad thrown on to the floor--should she try to settle herself again and_perhaps_ manage to go to sleep? It would be so nice to wake up and findthey had got there, and _surely_ it could not be very much farther.Fraulein had said ten o'clock, had she not? Leonore remembered sittingup one night till ten o'clock--more than a year ago--when her father wasexpected to arrive, and Fraulein was sure he would like to find herawake to welcome him. It hadn't seemed half so late that night as it didnow--would ten o'clock _never_ come?

  She stooped down and pulled up the rug, and tried to prop the cushionagainst the back of the seat for her head. It was not very easy tomanage, but Leonore was not a selfish child; it never occurred to her todisturb her governess for the sake of her own comfort, though Frauleinwould not have been the least vexed with her had she done so.

  Just as she had made up her mind that she would try to go to sleep, shefelt a slight change in the motion of the train--the bum and rattle,rattle and bum, grew fainter--was it only her fancy, or could it, oh!could it be that they were slackening speed? If so, it could only meanarriving at Alten, for her governess had distinctly told her they wouldnot stop again till they had reached their journey's end.

  'Sleep, my dear,' she had said, 'sleep well till I wake you, and then weshall be _there_. There will be no other stopping anywhere to disturbyou.'

  Leonore held her breath in anxiety--yes, it was no fancy--they _were_moving more and more slowly, and through the darkness lights, which werenot the glimmer of the rain-drops, began to appear. Then at last therewas a pull-up.

  'Fraulein, Fraulein,' cried Leonore, in great excitement, 'wake up,quick. We're _there_--do you hear? The train has stopped.'

  Poor Fraulein had started up at the first words, but Leonore was tooeager to leave off talking all at once, and in another moment thegoverness's head was out of the window, calling to a porter, for therewas not too much time to spare, as the train had to start off again, nothaving finished _its_ journey, though some of its passengers had doneso. And almost before our little girl had quite taken in that the drearyrattle and bum in the darkness were over, she found herself on theplatform, her own little travelling-bag and warm cloak in her grasp,while Fraulein, who insisted on loading herself as much as the porter,was chattering away to him in the cheeriest and liveliest of voices, fartoo fast for Leonore to understand much of what she said, as if she hadnever been asleep in her life.

  'I suppose she's very pleased to be in her own country,' thoughtLeonore. 'I wish it wasn't night, so that I could see what it all lookslike,' and she gazed about her eagerly, as she followed Fraulein and theporter out of the station.

  Something, after all, _was_ to be seen. The rain was clearing off;overhead it was almost dry, though very wet and puddly underfoot. Infront of the station was a wide open space, with trees surrounding it,except where a broad road, at the end of which lamps showed somecarriages waiting, led away to somewhere, though no streets or evenhouses were to be seen. The air felt fresh and pleasant, and Leonore'sspirits began to rise.

  'It feels like the country,' she said to herself; 'I wonder where thetown is.'

  But Fraulein was still too busy talking to the porter and to two orthree other men who had somehow sprung up, to be asked any questionsjust yet. One of the men had a band round his cap with some wordsstamped on it in gilt letters. Leonore could only make out one word,'Hotel ----,' and then he turned away, and she could not see the others.

  By this time her governess was picking up her skirts in preparation forcrossing the wet space before them.

  'He says we had better step over to where the carriages are standing,'she explained to the little girl; 'it will be quicker'; and when, amoment later, the two found themselves alone, with plenty
of room, inthe comfortable omnibus, she lent back with a sigh of satisfaction.

  'It is so pleasant to be in a land where things are well managed,' shesaid. 'We do not need to wait for our big luggage. I give the paper tothe hotel porter, he sees to it all for us.'

  'Yes,' said Leonore, though without paying much attention; the care ofthe luggage did not trouble her; 'but do tell me, Fraulein, dear, whereis the hotel? Where are the streets and--and--everything? It seems likethe country, and oh, aren't you glad to be out of the train? I thoughtwe should never get here, and it was so dark and raining so hard, and I_couldn't_ go to sleep.'

  'Poor dear,' said tender-hearted Fraulein, 'and I who slept comfortablyfor so long. Had I known you were awake I would have kept awake also.'

  'Never mind now,' said Leonore amiably; 'but tell me where we aregoing.'

  'The station is half a mile or so out of the town,' explained thegoverness. 'See now, the houses are appearing. We cross the bridge--bydaylight it is beautiful, such a view down the river.'

  But Leonore did not care very much about beautiful views--not just nowespecially.

  'I wish it wasn't so far to the town,' she said wearily, though almostas she said the words her tone changed. 'Oh now,' she exclaimedbrightly, 'we are really getting into the streets. How queer everythinglooks--do you think the people are all in bed, Fraulein?'

  It was a natural question, for as they drove through the wide darkstreets, faintly lighted by an occasional lamp, there was nothing to beseen but closed shutters and barred doors. The houses, for the mostpart, looked large, particularly as regarded the entrance, for many ofthese led into courtyards, with great double gates.

  Fraulein nodded her head.

  'They are all in their houses,' she said, 'though perhaps not all inbed yet, for it is not really so very late. In Alten we keep to the goodold ways, you see, my dear--"early to bed and early to rise," as yourrhyme says.'

  'It's very dull-looking,' said Leonore discontentedly. 'It seems like alot of prisons, and--oh----'

  She broke off suddenly, for they were stopping at last, or at leastpreparing to stop, as they turned in through a large doorway standingopen to admit them into a courtyard, paved with cobble stones, and dimlylighted like the streets by an old-fashioned lamp or lantern at oneside.

  There was more light at the other side, however, where a short flight ofsteps led into the hotel, and here they pulled up, to be received by afunny little man in black, with a large expanse of shirt-front, and bywhat looked to Leonore's half-dazzled eyes like a whole troop ofwaiters, also in black, fluttering about him, though in reality therewere only three--all the party bowing in the most polite way, and almosttumbling over each other in their eagerness to help the ladies toalight.

  This sort of thing was quite to Leonore's taste, and for the moment allfeeling of dullness or tiredness left her. She bent her head graciouslyto the little fat man, who was really the landlord, and allowed one ofthe others to take her cloak and bag. Fraulein seemed more than ever inher element. Yes; rooms were ready for the ladies--two bedrooms openinginto each other--would they have supper upstairs, or (and as he spokethe polite little man threw open a door they were passing) in here?'Here' being the large dining-room. They would be quite undisturbed.

  'Oh, in here, Fraulein, do say in here,' said Leonore, 'I don't likeeating in bedrooms; it makes me feel as if I had the measles orsomething. And, I'm not sure, but I think I'm rather hungry, so mayn'twe have supper at once?'

  Fraulein was quite willing, and supper, in the shape of chocolate and anomelette, would be ready immediately. So the two settled themselves atone end of the long narrow table, and Leonore's eyes set to work to seewhat they could see by the light of the two not very bright lamps.

  'What a funny old man,' she exclaimed. 'Look, Fraulein, the walls areall dark wood like a church, and the ceiling has white carvings on it,and the floor is red and black squares like the kitchen at AuntIsabella's. And it isn't like a hotel, is it? Not like the one at Paris,where there was such a bustle. I don't believe there's anybody stayinghere except you and me.'

  'Oh yes, there are probably other people,' said Fraulein, 'but it islong past proper supper-time, you see, my dear. It is very polite of thelandlord to have received us himself, and to have all the waiters inattendance.'

  And by the way Fraulein leant back in her chair Leonore saw that she wasin a state of great satisfaction with everything, and exceedinglydelighted to find herself again in her own country.

  Upstairs, where they soon made their way, guided by two, if not three,of the attentive waiters, the house seemed even queerer and older thandown below. Leonore was now getting too sleepy to notice anything veryclearly, but the dark wainscotted walls, the long passages and funnylittle staircases, struck her as very mysterious and interesting, andshe said to herself that she would have a good exploring the next day.

  The bedrooms prepared for them looked large and imposing, partly perhapsbecause the candles left the corners in darkness. The beds were smalland cosy, with their white eider-down quilts, and very comfortable too,as the tired little girl stretched herself out with a sigh of relief andcontent, to fall asleep long before Fraulein had completed herunpackings and arrangements.

  If Leonore had any dreams that night she did not know it, for the sunhad been up some hours before she awoke, though it was already lateautumn. She did not feel at all ashamed of her laziness however, andconsidering everything I do not see that she had any reason to feel so.And she gave a cry of welcome and pleasure as she caught sight of themerry little rays of sunshine creeping over the white bed as if to wishher a kindly good morning.

  'Oh I _am_ glad it is a fine day,' she thought to herself, 'and I am soglad we are not going in that horrid old train again.'

  She lay still and looked about her. Yes, it was a curiouslyold-fashioned room; even a child could see at once that the house mustbe very, very old.

  'I wonder if many little girls have slept here and waked up in themorning, and looked at the funny walls and queer-shaped ceiling justlike I'm doing,' she thought to herself. 'Some of them must be quite oldwomen by now, and perhaps even, lots who have been dead for hundreds ofyears have lived here. How queer it is to think of! I wonder if Frauleinis awake, and I do hope we shall have breakfast soon. I'm so hungry.'

  The sound of a tap seemed to come as an answer to these questions andhopes, and as Fraulein put her head in at one door, a maid carrying abath and a large can of hot water appeared at the other. She was apleasant-faced girl with rosy cheeks, and as she passed the bed shewished the young lady good morning with a smile.

  'You are awake, my child?' said the governess. 'That is right. You haveslept well? Call me as soon as you want me to help you to do your hair,and then we shall have our breakfast. You would rather have itdownstairs, I suppose?'

  'Oh yes,' said Leonore decidedly. 'I am quite rested, Fraulein, and Iwant dreadfully to go downstairs and see this funny old place bydaylight, and I want to look out of the window to see if the streetslook nice, and--and----'

  'Well, get dressed first, my dear,' said her governess, pleased to findthe little girl in such a cheerful frame of mind. 'It is just a triflecold, though it will probably be warmer as the day goes on, thanks tothis bright sunshine. You have had rainy weather lately, I suppose?' shewent on, turning to the maid-servant.

  The girl held up her hands.

  'Rain,' she repeated, 'yes, indeed, I should rather think so--rain,rain, rain, for ever so many days. The ladies have brought us thesunshine.'

  So it seemed, for when they made their way downstairs, Leonore scarcelyknew the dining-room again, it looked so bright and cheerful incomparison with the night before. Their coffee and rolls had not yetmade their appearance, so the little girl flew to the window to see whatshe could through the muslin blinds. For the window opened straight outon to the pavement, so that any inquisitive passer-by could peep in,which made the blinds quite necessary, as, though it is very pleasant tolook out, it is not equally so to
feel that strangers can look in whenone is sitting at table.

  Leonore pulled a tiny corner of the blind aside.

  'Oh, Fraulein,' she exclaimed, 'it is such a nice street. And there arelots of people passing, and shops a little way off, and I see the top ofa big old church quite near, and--and--a sort of open square place upthat short street--do you see?' Fraulein having joined her by this time.

  'That is the market-place,' said her governess, 'and I ratherthink--yes, I am sure it is market-day to-day.'

  Leonore danced about in excitement.

  'Oh, _please_ take me to see it,' she said. 'I have never seen a propermarket, and perhaps the people would have funny dresses--costumes likewhat you were telling me about. Do you think we should see any of them?'

  'I hope so,' said Fraulein, 'we must go out as soon as we have hadbreakfast and see. I have to ask about a carriage to take us to Dorf. Ialmost wish----'

  'What?' asked Leonore.

  'That we could stay till to-morrow, if Alten amuses you so--indeed, I donot see why we need hurry. My aunt is not quite certain what day we arecoming, and she is _quite_ certain to be ready for us whenever wearrive. Indeed, I have no doubt she has had our rooms prepared for weekspast, so good and careful a housewife is she. Our beds will have beenaired every day, I daresay.'

  But Leonore was scarcely old enough to care whether the beds were airedor not. For the moment her whole thoughts were running on having a goodexploring of the quaint town which had so taken her fancy, and while shedrank her coffee and munched the nice crisp rolls, which tasted betterthan any bread she had ever eaten before, she kept urging her governessto stay another day where they were.

  'You see,' she said, 'I'm so used to the country, and we shall be thereall the winter, and I daresay it _will_ be rather dull.'

  'I hope not,' said Fraulein, somewhat anxiously. 'I shall do my best,you know, my child, to make you happy, and so will my good aunt, I amsure.'

  'Oh yes, I know you are always very kind,' said Leonore, with a funnylittle tone of condescension which she sometimes used to her governess.'But, you see, it _must_ be dull when anybody has no brothers andsisters, and no mamma--and papa so far away.'

  She gave a little sigh. She rather liked to pity herself now and then,and it made Fraulein all the kinder, but in reality she was not in someways so much to be pitied as might have seemed. For she could notremember her mother, and she had been accustomed all her life to herfather's being as a rule away from her, though when he _was_ in Englandhe spent most of his time in planning pleasures for his little daughter.Then she had had plenty of kind aunts and uncles, and, above all, theconstant care of her devoted Fraulein.

  But Fraulein's heart was _very_ tender. She kissed Leonore fondly, andas soon as breakfast was over, out they sallied, after settling thatthey should stay at Alten another night, to please the little lady.