Teddy Bears

<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>CHAPTER XX.<br/> <small><i>The Dream Child.</i></small></h2> <div> <ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/drop-h.jpg" width-obs="178" height-obs="174" alt="H" /></div> <p class="drop-capi">HOW long Sally slept she did not know when she was aroused by the sharp tapping of a beak against the window pane. She sprang up, half asleep, but only too glad to hear the sound for which she had been listening even in her dreams.</p> <p>Hastily she threw open the window and in fluttered Tim, so full of excitement that his very tail-feathers seemed to bristle with it. In his queer little hoarse croak he implored Sally to lose no time in dressing, as Chip, the squirrel, had sent a message to the effect that he wished her and Bob to join him in the park at once. Now, considering that it was getting well on toward midnight, the average child would have been rather astonished to receive such an invitation. But Bob and Sally, accustomed as they were to the call of the wild in a modified scale, hastily dressed, being, I am afraid, none too particular concerning the arrangement of hooks and buttons.</p> <p>Peter Pan, who was, as usual, ready for action, whispered to Sally not to waken Bedelia. “She will be no end of a nuisance,” quoth the Teddy bear. So she was left reposing among her cubs while the rest<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span> of the party, escorted by Tim, crept cautiously downstairs and out at the front door, which they placed off the latch in order to insure their safe return.</p> <p>Across the street and into the park they hurried, Tim hopping and flapping along in front. At the entrance they dimly distinguished a tiny gray figure, sitting up with its little paws crossed on its breast and its great, fluffy tail curled up, feather-like, over its back. It was Chip, eagerly awaiting their advent. He ran joyfully to meet his guests, and explained, as they hurried along, that he was sure they would enjoy the festivities soon to follow, and that he had obtained an invitation for them from the old horned owl, who was to be master of ceremonies.</p> <p>They had now left the beaten path and were wading ankle deep through the dead leaves that rustled crisply under their feet. A faint, gray mist lay like a veil over the park, while low in the sky hung the crescent moon, seemingly caught and held in her place by the forked and naked branch of a tall poplar tree. Its silver beams sifted down through the pale mist, which glittered as if spangled with thousands of diamonds.</p> <p>Presently the mist seemed to concentrate itself in one glimmering shape, which came gliding lightly forward toward the children with a softly rhythmic motion and apparently without touching the ground<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span> In another moment Sally discerned the figure of a little girl who appeared to be about her own age, but of so fair and frail a mold that the very moonbeams themselves seemed to penetrate through the transparency of her ethereal body. Her long, fair hair floated loosely over her shoulders and her little hands were filled with dazzling white flowers, which she pressed softly against her bosom.</p> <p>Softly she floated to where the children stood, and laid her transparent little hand, whose touch was as cool and light as that of a snowflake, in Sally’s sturdy little brown palm.</p> <p>“Dear children,” she exclaimed, in a voice whose faint sweetness sounded like the recollection of a chime of silver bells, “I am the guardian spirit of this place, to which I bid you welcome, the little girl for whom it was named, and who, years ago, passed into the world of spirits. These flowers I took with me, and the good God has made them immortal. They cannot wither. Nothing withers or dies in the world where I live now.”</p> <p>She ceased speaking and a lovely smile irradiated her innocent little face.</p> <p>Sally suddenly felt a great love spring up in her heart for this dear dream-child, so unlike any companion that she had ever before met. She longed to return the pressure of the tender little hand, but it was already gone and the child was floating fairy-like ahead of them, ever<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span> and anon turning toward them with her lovely smile as if beckoning them to follow.</p> <p>They were now entering a part of the park where the trees stood thickest, forming a sort of grove, in the centre of which lay an open space. A bat drifted by on velvety wings with eyes that glared in the darkness, and the great horned owl himself presently came flying along, flapping close to the ground, and, sad to contemplate, even on such an important occasion as this was evidently engaged in a still-hunt for mice. Sally could not help wondering if he ever made an error and mistook the squirrels for lawful prey. It seemed not, as they were all so very friendly together.</p> <p>A wavering but ruddy glow now began to shine through the trees while a weird melody was wafted to their ears and as the children hurried through the last rows of pine and fir, they came upon a veritable fairy ring. In the centre of the clearing a great fire of pine boughs burned merrily, while round about it danced and capered a motley crew, the like of which it has seldom fallen to mortal eyes to gaze upon.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus156.jpg" width-obs="489" height-obs="614" alt="fairies, pixies, wizard, frogs in hats, bear, raven and an owl" /> <div class="caption">Round the fire danced a motley crew.</div> </div> <p>Round-eyed Brownies, goblins gaunt and gray; the dainty dryads, spirits of the hoary trees; a company of little old women in red cloaks and black, pointed hats, who rode upon brooms, but whose bright eyes and kindly old faces belied everything that Sally had ever heard concerning witches. They resembled more a company of little old ladies<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span> out on a still-hunt for afternoon tea. The dream-child, however, drew away from the firelight with a visible shudder, and took refuge behind a large fir tree, and the children immediately followed her. Sally now saw for the first time that a delicate pair of wings, beautifully irridescent, sprang from her shoulders and lay, drooping, to her waist.</p> <p>Peter Pan and Tim, however, were in no way minded to hide their shining lights behind the proverbial bushel, and before many moments had joined the dancers around the crackling fire. Round and round they went, while their weird song rose and swelled upon the air.</p> <p>At the upper end of the fairy glen had been erected a lofty throne of pine and fir boughs, and upon this was solemnly perched the horned owl, who, as master of ceremonies, was seated in lordly state, and did not, of course, join the promiscuous revels. On either side of the throne stood his marshals, two huge, speckled hoptoads, crowned with big hats which consisted of enormous mushrooms, which flopped ridiculously whenever their wearers moved. Sally, whose busy brain was forever drawing parallels, was irresistibly reminded of the big picture hats that she had once seen worn by the bridesmaids at a wedding to which she had gone under the wing of mamma, Auntie Edith having been one of the bridesmaids. The whole thing struck her so funny that she began to giggle, and in another moment, despite Bob’s warning frown, she found herself shaking with silent laughter.</p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span></p> <p>“Oh, how I wish we had brought Bedelia! She would certainly have written some poetry,” she gasped to Bob, who shook his head in a vain endeavor to keep her quiet. Just then the clock commenced to strike the hour of midnight, and Sally, no longer able to contain herself, burst into a ringing laugh, that was repeated, with a chorus of fearful echoes, from every near-by rock and tree.</p> <p>In the twinkling of an eye, out went the fire and the whole merry swarm of dancers rose silently in the air, as if on wings, and hovering above the tree tops like a faint, gray cloud, slowly dispersed and vanished.</p> <p>Only the horned owl, who had fallen fast asleep, remained majestically on his throne, and having thrice performed a lowly obeisance without receiving the smallest sign of recognition beyond a sound that was suspiciously like a snore, the two marshals, in a highly indignant frame of mind, hopped nimbly away and were lost in the darkness, their big hats flopping wildly as they went.</p> <p>And now a sweet voice from above their heads sounded faintly, “Good-bye, dear Sally! Good-bye, dear Bob.” The dream-child, rising slowly on her glittering wings, was waving them farewell with one hand, while with the other she gathered to her breast the gleaming white flowers.</p> <p>Her bright hair, blown back and floating behind her, formed a shimmering<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span> frame for her delicate face. So for the last time they beheld her, as she disappeared, a glistening speck against the deep blue of the midnight sky.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus160.jpg" width-obs="411" height-obs="474" alt="Sally and bears standing in window" /></div> <p>Peter Pan was yawning in a manner which indicated a desire for bed, and hunting up Tim, whom they discovered vigorously digging for worms, they hastened home, leaving the owl still fast asleep on his throne.</p> <p>In five minutes they were in the land of Nod, their remarkable adventure already quite forgotten.</p> <p>When Sally awoke next morning she found pinned to her pillow a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</SPAN></span> slip of paper on which were penciled in an unfamiliar handwriting the following lines:</p> <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry"> <div class="verse">A mighty toad as marshal sat,</div> <div class="verse">A speckled hoptoad, brown and fat,</div> <div class="verse">He wore a mushroom for a hat.</div> <div class="verse">And when he hopped the mushroom flopped;</div> <div class="verse">It flopped, and flopped, and flopped and flopped;</div> <div class="verse">I don’t believe it ever stopped.</div> </div></div> <p>The author and sender of these mysterious lines has never been discovered. They certainly did not arrive by the penny post.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus161.jpg" width-obs="181" height-obs="105" alt="decoration" /></div> <hr class="full" /> <div class="tnote"> <b>Transcriber’s Note:</b> Page 147, “botton” changed to “bottom” (near the bottom)</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />