Read Ebook: The Princess Idleways: A Fairy Story by Hays Helen Ashe

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Ebook has 305 lines and 16931 words, and 7 pages

"But the peasants do those things."

"Well, the peasants are happy."

"But I shall not live as they do."

"No matter; it is well you should understand all things; they may serve you, they may not; they will teach you in many other ways. You will learn to have sympathy for all; you will learn to be patient and painstaking."

"Then I will try."

"That is all I ask. And now suppose I tell you all about these wonderful herbs?" Picking up a sprig of each, the Motherkin related its qualities, while Laura, with a pencil and paper, wrote down her words; then she fastened each sprig in a slip of paper with its name attached. After this she assisted the Motherkin in dressing Grim's ankle, carrying warm water, and rolling the bandage, while Grim looked on with a funny face, holding his cap with its scarlet tassel in one hand, and with the other supporting himself in his chair.

Then the fire had to be lighted and tea made, and Laura no longer was awkward, but very alert, for now she had the willing spirit which makes everything so much easier to do than where there is reluctance.

After tea, Grim said he would tell her what he had seen on his little journey, so, drawing near the chairs upon which he was resting, the Motherkin and Laura listened to the old man's tale.

"I must explain to little Lady Laura," said Grim, with a wave of his hand towards the Motherkin, "if you will allow me, madam, that we fairies have the power of making ourselves unseen whenever we wish, though we seldom use the power except for some useful purpose."

"Ah," thought Laura, "perhaps I was not so much alone in the Motherkin's absence as I thought."

"And thus it is," continued the dwarf, "that we see many strange things; but I have nothing very remarkable at present to relate, for my journey was an ordinary one but for my accident. I had to see the elves who had charge of healing herbs, and gain their permission to cull them, for they are very particular that they should be pulled in the right season, and they so cover their gardens up that one could easily think there was not a bit of motherwort or hoarhound to be found when they choose to conceal them. To see the Chief Gardener Elf I had to go pretty far out of my way, for he was off superintending the planting of some tansy beds, and had quite an army of elves at work. I wish Lady Laura could have seen them. They are such an odd crew; but it is as well not to interfere with them while they are at work, for sometimes they are very troublesome; they have a spiteful way of scattering weed seed, right plump into a bed of roses or violets, that is very provoking. But they were too busy to take much notice of me, and when I had gained the permission I wanted, and was about to leave them, I thought I heard a child's cry. It attracted me at once, for, you know, my lady, we have an especial interest in children.

"'Ah, my little Fritz,' she said, 'how tired you must be, how weary and hungry! And does the little leg ache to-day? See, sister has a cake for thee,' drawing from her pocket one poor little cake made of meal.

"Her gentleness was exquisite, but it made my heart ache. I knew this was all the food she had, and I was puzzled to know what to do. While I was pondering the girl hushed the little one to sleep, after she had rubbed his legs with her poor thin little hands. Laying the child down, she brought in a few fagots and made a little blaze on the hearth, and with a handful of herbs brewed some sort of a tea from the water in the pot which hung over the blaze. It was a sorry sight, this poverty and wretchedness, but it was a beautiful sight also to behold this sisterly care and affection. Evidently she had long nursed this poor little cripple. How could I relieve her? was my perplexity. I had not seen any houses near, no neighbors were at hand. I determined to try and enlist the sympathy of the Chief Gardener Elf, and yet I also feared the result. Just as I left the little hut I met a woodsman, and the happy thought came to me to whisper my wish in his ear; that is to say, I spoke in fairy fashion my plan of relief for these poor children, abandoned as they seemed to be by all human beings. I was rewarded by seeing the man enter the little abode. Resolving to return as soon as I could, I was making my way through the forest when I fell, and was obliged to despatch the first Herb Elf who came in my way to gain assistance. To my great annoyance, the Chief Gardener Elf had gone to South America for seeds. I could not follow him, and I would not intrust the lesser elves with a message to him, lest I should do the children more harm than good. Relying, therefore, upon the little assistance which the poor woodsman I met would undoubtedly give after my suggestion, I was obliged, my dear madam, to return to you."

"Oh, my dear Grim," cried Laura, "how could you leave them to starve! Let us go, dear Motherkin--pray let us go to those poor little children. Quick! quick! they must be suffering so much."

She fell on her knees before the Motherkin in her great anxiety and excitement, and the tears of pity rolled down from her blue eyes.

Grim nodded his head with satisfaction.

"Ay, my lady, do go; do not wait for my lame leg to get well. The way is rough and fatiguing, but by all means let Lady Laura go and do what she can for those suffering little ones."

Laura did not want to wait a moment; she begged the Motherkin to start at once, that very night; but the old lady insisted upon the night's rest.

"But I cannot sleep, dear Motherkin-- I am sure I cannot sleep; pray let us go. I am so afraid they are suffering dreadfully."

"We have to arrange matters a little, Laura," urged the Motherkin, pleased at the child's earnest desire to aid the little unfortunates. "I will go as early as we can to-morrow; and now let me see you show prudence as well as zeal by sleeping soundly, and so fitting yourself for the fatigue of a journey. Come, dear, to bed, and hope that the good angels are caring for the little ones we are so sorry for."

Grim, too, assured Laura that this plan was best, and that he felt confident the woodsman would do all he could until they reached the little sufferers.

So Laura went to bed, her heart stirred with very new emotions, that were both happy and painful; the desire to do good, the hope that she might relieve the poor little objects of her pity, made her glad, while the thought of their pain and poverty caused her real sorrow. Her bed no longer seemed hard, nor her little room empty of any luxuries; and, as she looked out at the stars glittering in the sky and listened to the running of the brook, she prayed that she might be of use to the poor children of the forest.

"I have decided not to go upon this journey, Laura," were the first words the Motherkin spoke after she had given her a morning embrace, as the child came briskly in haste to receive it, and hear the plans which she supposed Grim and the Motherkin had made after she had gone to bed the night previous.

"Oh, dear Motherkin," exclaimed Laura, "how can you forget those poor little suffering creatures! My heart has ached for them even in my dreams. All night I have been climbing rocks and wading brooks to get to them, and now you tell me I cannot go. Oh, it is too, too hard!"

"Well, what do you mean, dear Motherkin? Is Grim to go?"

"No, Grim cannot go either," said the Motherkin, with a peculiar little smile upon her face; and Grim twisted the scarlet tassel of his cap mysteriously. Laura looked at one, then at the other: what did it mean?

"Are you sure you wish to befriend those children, Laura?" asked the old lady.

Still more surprised, and not a little indignant, Laura answered, quickly, "Indeed I do; I long to aid them."

"And you are willing to make some sacrifice, some unusual effort, to do this?"

"Yes," again answered Laura, very quickly.

"Then, my child, you must go alone to their relief."

Laura's eyes opened very wide at this.

"How can I? I do not know the way."

"We will guide you, if you have resolution enough to undertake it."

Perplexed, Laura knew not what to say. How could she go alone? All sorts of dangers rose before her--great gloomy forests to traverse, wild beasts to meet, perhaps. She stood irresolute, her hand on the Motherkin's shoulder.

The old lady took her hand in hers as she said, "I do not compel it, Laura."

"But the poor little children--how can I be of service to them? I do not know how."

"I will instruct you; I will aid you. All I ask is for you to go alone: will you, or will you not?"

A vision of the little lonely hut and the suffering child and the ministering sister rose before Laura.

"I will go," she said, no longer irresolute.

"The blessing of the poor be upon you!" said Grim, and the Motherkin kissed her brow.

"Now, my child, have a good breakfast, and then I will tell you what you are to do."

Laura obeyed very willingly, no longer disdaining good substantial food or the simple manner of its preparation. After breakfast the Motherkin opened her closets and chose a few garments for the poor children. These, with a small flask of wine and some oat-cakes, were packed in a basket which had leather straps attached to go over Laura's shoulder. Then she was arrayed in a flannel costume that her kind mother had sent with all her fineries. It was blue, with delicate traceries of silver, silver buttons, and a silver belt, from which depended a pocket, a fruit-knife, and a little drinking-cup. In the pocket the Motherkin placed a few coins, and then assured Laura that there was but one thing needed.

"And what is that, dear Motherkin?" asked Laura.

"I will show you," was the reply.

"Grim! Grim!" called the Motherkin to the dwarf, who was sunning himself out-of-doors.

"Yes, madam," said Grim, hurriedly stirring himself.

"Do you think you can cut me a good stout staff for Lady Laura, without any injury to your lame ankle?"

"Of course, madam, of course. What wood shall it be?"

"Of wood that shall serve her well--you know their qualities even better than I; and whether it be ash or birch, you can get the elves to charm it, that it may have the power to guide her aright."

Grim hobbled off in haste, and was soon seen emerging from the forest with the charmed staff in his hand. It was a light, pretty stick, and the Motherkin bade Laura be very careful not to lose it, as it could not be replaced by any ordinary wood.

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