Part 1

Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Internet Archive.

HALF-PAST BEDTIME

_By the Same Author_

THE CORNER OF HARLEY STREET PITY THE POOR BLIND VAGABONDS IN PERIGORD SONGS OUT OF SCHOOL THE PLAIN GIRL'S TALE

HALF-PAST BEDTIME

_BY_ H. H. BASHFORD

AUTHOR OF "THE CORNER OF HARLEY STREET" ETC.

_WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR_

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY BOSTON, NEW YORK AND CHICAGO

TO JOE & ADA MAGGS AND THE CHILDREN THAT LOVE THEM

When Farmer Sun with rosy wink Says good-bye all, and drives away, When safe in fold the sheep-bells clink, And hard-worked horses munch their hay,

When brown and blue eyes sleepy grow, And Nurse downstairs clears up the crumbs, When God pulls down His blind, and so What people call the twilight comes,

Then lazy Moon lifts up her arm, Shakes back her hair and smooths her beams, And softly over field and farm Scatters the milk-white seed of dreams.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE I. MR JUGG 13 II. GWENDOLEN 29 III. THE LITTLE ICE-MEN 45 IV. UNCLE JOE'S STORY 61 V. BEARDY NED 75 VI. THE MAGIC SONG 89 VII. THE IMAGINARY BOY 105 VIII. THE HILL THAT REMEMBERED 121 IX. ST UNCUS 137 X. OLD MOTHER HUBBARD 151 XI. MARIAN'S PARTY 167 XII. THE SORROWFUL PICTURE 183 XIII. THE MOON-BOY'S FRIEND 199 XIV. THE CHRISTMAS TREE 215

ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE HALF-PAST BEDTIME _Frontispiece_ MARIAN AND MR JUGG 12 MONKEY ISLAND 28 CUTHBERT AND DORIS 44 BELLA AT EDEN 60 BEARDY NED'S FIRE 74 THE MAGIC SONG 88 THE HAUNTED WOOD 104 CAESAR'S CAMP 120 DORIS AND ST UNCUS 136 MOTHER HUBBARD'S 150 THE LITTLE TEMPLE 166 PORTO BLANCO 182 THE LAGOON 198 STILL TALKING 214

MR JUGG

I

MR JUGG

The name of the town doesn't really matter; but it was a big town in the middle of the country; and the first of these adventures happened to a little girl whose Christian name was Marian. She was only seven when it happened to her, so that it was rather a young sort of adventure; but the older ones happened later on, and this is the best, perhaps, to begin with.

Marian's house was in a street called Peter Street, because there was a church in it called St Peter's Church; and some people liked this church, because it had a great spire soaring up into the sky. But Marian's daddy didn't like spires, because they were so sharp and so slippery. He liked towers better, because the old church towers, he said, were like little laps, ready to catch God's blessing. But Marian's daddy was a queer sort of man, and nobody took much notice of what he said.

At the other end of Peter Street there was a field in which some people were beginning to build houses, and Marian used to love going into this field to watch the builders at work. But one afternoon she became tired of watching them, and so she climbed over a gate into the next field. Here the grass was so tall that it tickled Marian's chin. There were great daisies in it, taller than the grass, and they looked into Marian's eyes. They had calm faces like Marian's mummy's nurney's face, and they didn't mind a bit when Marian picked them. There were also buttercups, shiny and fat, like the man in the butcher's shop who was always smiling.

This was such a big field that when Marian came to the middle of it the voices of the builders were quite faint, and the tinkle of their trowels on the edges of the bricks sounded like sheep-bells a long way off. When she turned round she could see the roofs of the houses, and the tops of the chimneys, and the spires of the churches all trembly because of the heat, as if they were tired and wanted to lie down. But they couldn't lie down, although they were so much older and bigger and stronger than Marian. "I'd rather be me," thought Marian, and when she had picked a bundle of flowers she lay down in the deep grass.

It was so hot that, when once they had become used to her, the stalks of the grasses stood quite still. She could see hundreds and hundreds of them, like trees in a forest, or people in church waiting for the anthem. Up in the hills it was different. There the grasses were always moving--not running about, of course, but standing in the same place and bending to and fro, to and fro. Some of them would move, so her father had once told her, as much as four miles in a single day, just as far as it was from Marian's house to the top of Fairbarrow Down.

But here in the valley they weren't moving at all. They weren't even whispering. They were holding their breath; and if they were listening to anything, it was to something that a little girl couldn't hear. She stared into the sky, but it was so blue that it made her eyes ache trying to see how blue it was; and when she closed them, to give them a rest, she could see little patterns on her eyelids. Then she opened them again, and the green of the grass, as she looked between the grass blades, was cool like an ointment.

"And nobody in the world," she thought, "knows where I am."

She felt a sort of tickle in the middle of her stomach.

"How do you do?" said a voice.

Marian gave a jump. She saw a little man looking up at her. He was not even as tall as an afternoon tea-table.

"What's your name?" he asked. He was very polite. He held his hat in his right hand. Marian told him her name. She wasn't a bit frightened.

"What's yours?" she asked.

"I'm Mr Jugg," he said.

"And who are you, Mr Jugg?" she inquired.

"I'm the King of the Bumpies," he replied.

When Marian was puzzled there came a little straight line, exactly in the middle, between her two eyebrows.

"What are bumpies?" she said.

"My hat!" he gasped. "Haven't you ever heard of bumpies?"

Marian shook her head.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" he sighed. "Have you ever heard of angels?"

"Well, of course," said Marian. "Everybody's heard of angels."

"Well then, bumpies," said Mr Jugg, "are baby angels. They're called bumpies till they've learned to fly."

"I see," said Marian, "but why are they called bumpies?"

"Because they bump," said Mr Jugg, "not knowing how."

Marian laughed.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"If you'd care to come with me," he said, "I could show you."

"Oh, I should love to!" said Marian. "May I?"

He put on his hat and gave her his hand, and helped her to stand up with her bunch of daisies.

"Come along," he said, and he took her across the field, and through a hole in the hedge into the next one. This was a smaller field with some cows in it, and the grass in it was quite short. He led her across it, and helped her over a gate into the field beyond, where the grass was shorter still.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm seven," said Marian.

"That's very young," he replied. "I'm seven million."

"Good gracious!" said Marian. "And how old is Mrs Jugg?"

"She's as old as I am," he said, "but she looks younger."

When they came to the middle of this field he stood still and stamped with his foot three and a half times--three big stamps and a little stamp--and then the field suddenly opened. Marian saw a hole at her feet with a lot of steps in it going down, down, down.

"This is where I live," he said. "You needn't be frightened. It's quite safe. I'll lead the way."

He was still holding her hand, and he went down before her, a step at a time, very carefully.

"Isn't it rather dark?" said Marian.

"Wait till I've shut the door," he said, "and then you'll get a surprise."

When both their heads were well below the ground, he tapped twice on the wall; and then the hole was shut so that they couldn't see the sky, and a most wonderful thing happened. They were at the beginning of a long passage, almost a mile long, with a lovely slope in it; and on each side of it there were hundreds of little lights, all of different colours. There were blue lights, and green lights, and yellow lights, and crimson lights, and lights of all sorts of other colours that Marian had never seen or even imagined. Both the walls and the floor of the passage were quite smooth, and just where they stood there was a little cupboard. "This is where I keep my scooter," he said. "It saves time, and there's lots of room on it for two."

He opened the cupboard door and took out a scooter.

"Now put your hands," he said, "on my shoulders."

"Oh, what fun!" said Marian, and she suddenly noticed that he seemed to have grown taller.

She climbed on to the scooter behind him. He gave it a little push and they began to glide down the passage. At first they went quite slowly, because the slope was so gentle. But soon they were going faster and faster; and presently they went so fast that all the coloured lights became two streaks of light, one on each side of them. Marian could hardly breathe.

"What's going to happen at the end?" she thought. But about half-way along the passage began to go uphill again. The coloured streaks became separate lights. The scooter went slower and slower. At last it stopped just in front of a closed door, and there, in the wall, was another little cupboard.

"Here we are," said Mr Jugg, putting the scooter away. "I expect they're all having tea."

Then he opened the door, and Marian almost lost her breath again, for what she saw was a great long room, with lots and lots of little tables in it, and bumpies sitting on chairs round every table. Hanging from the ceiling of this room were hundreds of coloured lights just like the lights that she had seen in the passage--blue lights, and green lights, and yellow lights, and crimson lights, and lights of all sorts of other colours of which she didn't even know the name. And there was such a clamour of talking and laughing, and spoon-clinking and plate-clinking, and chair-creaking and table-creaking, that Marian could hardly hear what Mr Jugg was saying, although he was shouting in her ear.

"That's my wife," he said. "That's Mrs Jugg, that lady over there, just coming toward us."

Marian looked where he was pointing, and saw a stout little lady with a smiling face.

She was exactly as tall as Mr Jugg, but she weighed two and a half pounds more. As for the bumpies, they were of all sorts of sizes, but they all wore the same kind of clothes--little dark green jackets over little dark green vests, little dark green knickers, and little dark green socks. Fastened to each jacket were two little hooks, one behind each shoulder--these were for their wings. But they only wore wings when they were having their flying lessons. Suddenly they all stopped talking and stared at Marian. Some of them stood on their chairs in order to see her better. She felt very shy, and began to blush.

Mrs Jugg came and gave her a kiss.

"This is Marian," said Mr Jugg. "Can you give her some tea?"

"Why, of course I can," said Mrs Jugg, giving Marian two more kisses. "Come with me, my dear. You shall have tea at my table."

She introduced Marian to all the bumpies.

They gave her three cheers, and then went on with their tea, and soon Marian was having tea herself--such a tea as she had never had before, not even at her Uncle Joe's. There was bread and butter with bumpy jam on it and bumpy Devonshire cream on the top of the jam, and there was bumpy cake with bumpy cherries in it, and there were bumpy meringues, and there was bumpy honey.

"Why, it's just like a birthday tea!" said Marian.

"That's because it is one," said Mr Jugg. "Every tea's a birthday tea down here. There are so many bumpies, you see, that it's always somebody's birthday."

"Dear me!" said Marian; "but isn't that rather a bother--I mean for you and Mrs Jugg?"

Mrs Jugg gave her another meringue.

"There aren't any bothers," she said, "in Heaven."

"But this isn't Heaven," said Marian, "is it?"

"Well, of course it is," said Mrs Jugg--"part of it."

"But it's under the ground," said Marian.

"Well, never mind. Heaven's everywhere, only most people don't know it."

Marian was surprised, but she felt all lovely and shivery. Fancy Heaven being so near home! What a thing to be able to tell Mummy! Mrs Jugg gave her some more cake. Some of the bumpies had finished now, and were getting impatient. Presently Mr Jugg clapped his hands. Then they all stood up, and Mrs Jugg said grace, and then they all rushed toward the door.

This wasn't the door by which Marian had come in, but a door that opened into another room--a great big room with even more lights in it, and hundreds of swings and all sorts of rocking-horses. In less than a minute there were bumpies upon every one of them, and two of the bumpies took charge of Marian. She had a lovely swing and a ride on a rocking-horse, and then they all began to play games. They played ring-a-ring o' roses, and bumpy in the corner, and bumpy hide-and-seek, and angel's buff; and then Mr Jugg took her into the flying school to see some of the older bumpies fly.

This was like a big gymnasium, with lots and lots of pegs in it, and a pair of wings hanging from each peg; and on the floor there were great soft mattresses so that the bumpies shouldn't hurt themselves if they fell down. But the bumpies that Marian saw had almost learned to fly. They would soon be proper angels and able to fly anywhere.

"And then," said Mr Jugg, "they'll be going into the upper school to learn history and geography and all about dreams and things."

"Where's the upper school?" asked Marian.

"Oh, it's all over the place," said Mr Jugg; "there are ever so many class-rooms, you see. And then they go to college."

"And what happens then?" asked Marian.

"Well, then they're able to begin to work. There's always heaps for them to do."

"I see," said Marian; "and now I really think that I ought to be going home."

"Perhaps you ought," said Mr Jugg. He led her back into the playroom, and then into the room where they had all had tea. The tables had been cleared now, but Mrs Jugg came toward them with a big box of bumpy chocolates. Marian took one, and Mrs Jugg kissed her and told her that she must be sure to come again.

"You haven't seen half the place," she said, "nor a quarter of it. There are miles and miles of it. Have another chocolate."

Then Marian thanked her and gave her a kiss, and Mr Jugg opened the door and they went into the passage. When they had come this part of the passage had been uphill, but going back, of course, it was downhill. He opened the cupboard and took out the scooter, and Marian stood behind him with her hands on his shoulders. Just as before, they began to go quite slowly, but soon they were going as fast as ever. Just as before, the coloured lights became two streaks of light, one on each side of them. But Marian knew now what was going to happen, and presently the scooter went slower and slower. At last it stopped just at the foot of the steps, and Mr Jugg put it away in the cupboard. He hit the wall twice, and there, at the top of the steps, Marian saw the hole open, and the sky above it.

"Goodness me!" she said. "How late it is!"

The sky was quite dark, and the stars were shining.

Mr Jugg blew his nose.

"Poor Mummy!" she said; "she will be so frightened."

"Where do you live?" asked Mr Jugg.

Marian told him.

"I'd better fly you there," he said. "Half a tick."

He went down the steps again, and opened the little cupboard, and came back with a pair of wings.

"Now, if you can get on my back," he said, "we'll be home in half a minute."

She climbed on to his shoulders, just as if she were going to ride pick-a-back, and then he gave a little jump and they were up in the air. They skimmed across the fields and down Peter Street just as fast as an express train. At Marian's door he put her down.

"Which is your bedroom window?" he asked.

She told him.

"Now I must be saying good-night," he said. "No, I won't come in. It's against the rules for the King of the Bumpies." So he took off his hat and made her a little bow, and before she could wink almost, he had gone. Then she knocked at the door, and next moment Mummy was hugging her as tight as tight. Then Daddy came and hugged her too, and Cuthbert, who had gone to bed, looked over the landing banisters.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"Why, where _haven't_ I been?" said Marian, and then she told them all about it. Cuthbert didn't believe her. But Cuthbert didn't believe anything. He was nine years old, and was beginning to learn French. But Mummy believed her, and Daddy believed her; and I'll tell you another thing that happened.

Late that night, when everybody was asleep, Mr Jugg flew to Marian's window. Marian's angel--everybody has a guardian angel--was smoking a quiet cigarette on the sill outside.

"Hullo!" he said; "fancy seeing you here!"

He had once been a bumpy, you see, and Mr Jugg had taught him to fly.

"Good evening," said Mr Jugg; "what do you think of this?"

It was a little dream that he had brought for Marian.

"By George!" said the angel, "that's a beauty."

He slipped it very softly under Marian's pillow.

She must have dreamed it too, for next morning when Mummy made her bed it wasn't there. But, alas! the loveliest dreams of all are the ones that we never remember.

Like the jungle he lives in, Tiger wears a dappled skin. Foxes on the plains of snow White as their surroundings go.

So do fishes lose their sight, Buried in the ocean's night, Little knowing lovely day Lies but half a mile away.

For the truth is plain to see, As our haunts are, so are we; And in cities you will find Busy blind men just as blind.

Long ago they lost their eyes Under bags of merchandise; And they know not there are still Angels on the window-sill.

GWENDOLEN

II

GWENDOLEN

Living in the same town as Marian there was a little girl called Gwendolen. Marian didn't know her very well, though they went to the same school and sometimes smiled at each other in church. Her father and mother were always climbing mountains and lecturing about them afterward, so Gwendolen had to live with her aunt, who was very rich and wore a lot of rings.

In many ways Gwendolen was a nice girl, but she had an exceptionally large tummy. Some people said that it was her own fault, because she was always sitting about eating marzipan. But some people said that she couldn't help her tummy, and had to eat a lot to keep it full. There were also people who said that her aunt spoiled her, being so greedy herself and always eating buttered toast.

Gwendolen's aunt had a pale, proud face, deeply lined by indigestion, and she lived in a big house on the right-hand side of Bellington Square. The colour of this house was a yellowish cream, and it had two pillars in front of the front door. There were eleven steps leading up to it, and there was a boy to open it who wore twelve brass buttons.

In the middle of this Square there was a sort of garden with tall iron railings all round it, and each of the people living in the Square had a key to open the gate of it. It was the tidiest garden in the whole world, and all the flowers in it stood in rows; and the people in the Square paid for a gardener to shave the grass every day. One of the reasons why the people in the Square were so rich was that they had so few children; and the children that they did have had to be very careful not to make foot-marks on the grass. Gwendolen's aunt sometimes went there when she had a headache and wanted to throw it off; and Gwendolen went there to eat marzipan and read about Princes and Princesses. She generally sat on a painted iron seat in front of a flower-bed shaped like a lozenge, and once she was sick behind a bush called _B. stenophylla_ on a tin label.

One day she was sitting on this seat when she heard a curious sort of sound. At first it was rather faint, so that she didn't take much notice of it, but gradually it became louder and louder. Her aunt was sitting on the same seat wondering which of her medicines to take before dinner, and Gwendolen noticed that she began to look annoyed, because the noise was the sound of a harmonium. Some people like harmoniums, and have them in their houses, and play hymns on them on Sunday afternoons. But this was a harmonium that went on wheels, with a man to push it, and a woman walking beside him. After he had pushed it for a few yards he would sit down and play a tune on it, while the woman walked up and down, looking at people's windows and trying to catch their eye. If she saw anybody she would say "Kind lady," or "Kind gentleman," as the case might be, and perhaps the kind lady or the kind gentleman would throw her some money, and then she would say "God bless you." But people like that, with travelling harmoniums, weren't allowed to come into Bellington Square, and Gwendolen's aunt said, "Dear me, just when I wanted a little peace and quiet!"

If there had been anybody near, such as a policeman or a gardener, she would have told him to send the musicians away. But it was very hot, and there was nobody about, and so the people went on playing. Gwendolen watched them for a while through the railings, and the butler at Number Ten gave the woman a sixpence. Her aunt was very angry about it when Gwendolen told her, for what was the good of making rules, she said, if you encouraged people to break them?

The people with the harmonium came a little nearer, and then Gwendolen could see what they looked like. The woman was stout, with a hard brown face and rolling eyes like dark-coloured pebbles. When she smiled it was as if she had pinned it on, and as if the smile didn't really belong to her. The man had pale eyes, like those of ferrets in a hutch, and he watched the woman all the time he was playing. Gwendolen noticed that there was a long string fastened to one of the handles of the harmonium. She heard a little voice close to her knees.

"Oh, Gwendolen," it said, "save me."

Gwendolen looked down and saw the unhappiest little face that she had ever seen in her life. It belonged to a small brown monkey wearing a red jacket and a blue sailor hat. He was staring up at her with timid dark eyes.

"I heard your aunt speak to you," he said. "So I know your name."

He looked over his shoulder at the man and the woman. But the woman was looking at the houses, and the man was watching her.

"What's the matter?" said Gwendolen.

He was holding on to the garden railings.

"Lift up my jacket," he said, "and you'll see."