CHAPTER XX

_What Happened Outside Old Nancy’s Cottage_

Molly had struck the last but one of Old Nancy’s matches in order to set light to the beacon. And now she and Miss Lydia, and the two men who had been guarding the beacon, stood on the hilltop gazing out at the answering light on the neighbouring hill. The fire cast a red glow over them all, and over the silent Grey Pumpkins in their midst. It could be seen that the guards wore curious dark red boots; these were part of Old Nancy’s magic protection against the Pumpkin and his spies, as also was the white circle chalked on the ground around the fire.

As they gazed down from the hill one of the guards told Molly the quickest way back to the East Gate of the City. If she followed the High Road, which was dimly visible far below, for about a mile she would come to a lane with a sign-post which said, ‘To the Orange Wood.’ Go to the bottom of this lane, over a little bridge across the river, and then along another lane which skirted the wood, and she would find herself in the village at the edge of the Goblin’s Heath. Back over the Heath was the shortest way then. But she would save several miles by going along the High Road at first.

Molly was very pleased to hear of this short cut, as she had not thought of looking up her map yet; and so, being very anxious to reach Old Nancy, Molly and Miss Lydia, who had determined to return with her, said good-bye to the guards and started off down the hillside, followed by the two Pumpkins.

As they went along Molly insisted on Miss Lydia, who looked very tired and exhausted, having two of the little brown square sweets that Old Nancy had given her; and she ate two herself. After a few minutes both she and Miss Lydia felt much refreshed, and fit for the journey in front of them. It was strange and delightful to Molly to know that there was nothing now to be afraid of; no more dodging and hiding and distrusting everybody.

When they neared the bottom of the hill, they caught sight of a figure emerging from a wood on the opposite side of the High Road. The person stood gazing up at the blazing beacon, spellbound; then all at once gave a whoop of joy and did a sort of step-dance in the road.

“Oh!” cried Molly, delighted. “It is—its Glan!”

And Glan it was, sure enough. He raced to meet them as soon as he saw the little party moving down.

“So it _is_ you, little lady. You’ve done it, after all!” he shouted, as he came toward them. “Well done, well done!” and he seized Molly’s hand and shook it till he nearly shook it off. “But where’s your brother?” he asked, noting, with puzzled eyes, the two Pumpkins.

Molly told him what had happened to Jack, as they all moved onward to the High Road; and then she went on to explain where she found the Black Leaf, and how bravely Miss Lydia had acted.

“Madam, I’m proud to meet you,” said Glan, shaking hands with Miss Lydia. “If I had only known, I could have come to your aid. I was not so far away, finishing searching that wood, which is my boundary; you remember, I mentioned that part of my search-ground joined yours,” he turned to Molly, “but, of course, I knew nothing, till I saw that blaze in the sky,” he waved his hand toward the beacon. “You’re not worrying about your brother, are you, little lady?” he inquired, peering anxiously at Molly. “Don’t do that. Old Nancy will soon put things right, I feel sure.”

As they went along he told them some of his adventures, and the narrow escapes he had had from being caught by the spies; his ‘poor old Father’ had been nearly caught once also.

By the time he had finished they were well on the way back along the High Road. It seemed to Molly that the return journey developed into something like a triumphal procession. She would rather have gone back quietly without any fuss, but the people who ran out to meet her seemed so deeply thankful and so full of gratitude that she had not the heart to wish them not to cheer. There were many glances of awe directed at the two Pumpkins as they rolled steadily along side by side. Many of the people followed Molly, and Miss Lydia, and Glan, all the way back to the City—a straggling crowd that grew in numbers, collecting people from every house that was passed on the road. Presently the High Road was left behind and they took the short cut through the lane that went near the Orange Wood.

Here Molly saw Farmer and Mrs Rose hurrying to join them, and she had to explain something of what had happened as they walked on beside her.

They went through the village, and all the people turned out and cheered them in magnificent style, and Miss Marigold and Timothy hastened to join the crowd. It was a strange crowd, made up of all sorts of people, little and big, old and young, that flocked round the little girl and the two Grey Pumpkins that followed close behind her. The people’s awe of the Pumpkin was not easily overcome, and they kept a respectful distance in spite of the fact that the little girl held in her hand the Black Leaf.

Out over the Goblin’s Heath they all trooped. There were rustlings in the bushes here, and darting little figures that scampered across their path, which made Glan laugh hilariously. From the Goblin’s Heath they could see the beacons blazing on the hills for miles round.

When they entered the Second Green Lane they saw a figure bustling along in front of them, that Molly recognized at once. It was Mr Papingay on his way to the City. He seemed glad to see Molly again, and inquired immediately about his Black Leaf.

“I haven’t shown it yet, but I’m going to,” said Molly. “I’ve kept it carefully. Think what all these people will say when they see it—when we reach the City!”

At which he beamed and seemed content. Glan greeted him heartily, slapping him on the back and calling him ‘Uncle’; and they walked on together arm in arm, both of them talking unceasingly. Whether either of them listened to a word the other said is more than any one can say.

When they reached the High Road again they could hear all the bells in the City ringing, and people were watching anxiously from the top of the City walls. “Here they are! Here they are!” cried somebody, and then such a cheer went up that the sound of the bells was drowned altogether for a few moments.

To Molly the return journey had seemed very short, partly because of the short cuts they had taken, and partly because they had been able to keep straight ahead, as there was now no searching or dodging to delay them. But altogether they had travelled many miles and had been several hours on the journey, and the night was now far advanced. It was a perfect night, warm and still and clear, for the moon sailed overhead, flooding the land with its beautiful white light.

Many of the citizens had already gone out on to the hill by the West Gate, in readiness to see them pass down to Old Nancy’s. Those that were left joined in the procession at the rear. On passing Glan’s shop they found that his Father and Aunt Janet had already gone ahead, as they did not know which way the procession was coming, and they wanted ‘a front seat,’ Glan said.

Outside the West Gate the King was waiting, and he put his hands on Molly’s shoulders and thanked her very sincerely in the name of the country. Then he walked with her down the hill, and she told him about Jack.

The hill was packed with people, eager, murmuring, straining to catch a glimpse of Molly and the Pumpkins. As she drew near Old Nancy’s cottage, Molly saw that a wide space had been cleared around the cottage by the City guards; and there was Old Nancy standing waiting by her door, the firelight flickering in the room behind her, just as she had stood when Molly had last seen her.

She held out her hands to Molly when she caught sight of the little girl. The King gently urged Molly forward, and so she stepped out alone into the open space, and went toward Old Nancy, the two Pumpkins following obediently. Then a strange hush fell over the huge crowd gathered on the hill, and every one waited expectantly for what was about to happen.

“Here is the Black Leaf,” said Molly, handing the Leaf to Old Nancy. “And here is the Grey Pumpkin—and Jack.”

Old Nancy stooped and kissed Molly on the forehead. “My dear, how can I thank you,” she said. “But tell me how this happened,” and she motioned toward the two Pumpkins.

Molly explained. The people around could not hear what Molly said, but the whisper ran from one to the other that one of the Pumpkins was the little girl’s brother who was under a spell.

“Oh, will you bring Jack back again?” begged Molly anxiously.

Old Nancy looked gravely at each of the Pumpkins in turn. “Which _is_ Jack,” she muttered to herself. Then she peered closer—stretching out her hand and turning each of the Pumpkins over and round about. The crowd gasped when she first touched the Pumpkins; it was difficult to get used to the idea that the Pumpkin was harmless now. “A pin was stuck in the Pumpkin pincushion,” she said to herself. “Let me see now, let me see now.... Ah.... Then _this_ one is the Grey Pumpkin,” cried Old Nancy, triumphantly. “For there is a big pin stuck through the top of him now.”

A great cheer went up from the crowd, though those at the back did not know what they were cheering about.

Old Nancy touched the Grey Pumpkin three times with the Black Leaf. The Pumpkin trembled, rocked, then was still.

“The Grey Pumpkin is now completely in my power,” said Old Nancy. “But before we punish him let us make sure that he has remedied all the mischief he has done. Most of you who have suffered through him probably found that you were suddenly released from the spells which had held you—as soon as the Black Leaf was plucked. Is that correct?”

Murmurs of assent came from the crowd. Old Nancy asked any who were still suffering from spells put on them by the Pumpkin to step forward; and waited; but no one stepped forward. Molly looked across at Miss Lydia and smiled.

“Then there is only this one last case to restore.” Old Nancy pointed to one of the Grey Pumpkins. “This spell was different from the others, because it was worked upon a person from the Impossible World.” She hesitated, looking down at the Pumpkin which was supposed to contain Jack.

Molly saw some one signalling wildly to her from the crowd. It was Mr Papingay.

“Don’t forget,” he called to Molly in a loud aside. “Now’s the time!”

Molly remembered her promise, and opening her little satchel rummaged about inside, then took out Mr Papingay’s painted black leaf, and unfolded it.

“What is that?” asked Old Nancy.

“It is a black leaf which Mr Papingay painted, and which I promised to show everybody, and he wants me to do it now,” said Molly, holding it out.

A flicker of a smile showed at the corners of Old Nancy’s mouth, but she sternly repressed it. She took the painted leaf and gazed at it for a moment, then muttered something in an undertone and made a sign across the leaf with her left hand, holding the real Black Leaf and the painted leaf together in her right.

“Have you any of the matches left that I gave you?” she asked Molly.

“One,” Molly replied.

“That’s just right.” Old Nancy held the painted leaf high in the air. “I want you all to see this leaf which has been made and painted by Mr Papingay, and is an exact copy of the Black Leaf. It is a clever piece of work—and useful—as you shall see. Mr Papingay, have I your permission to do anything I like with this?”

“Certainly, ma’am—anything you like,” beamed Mr Papingay, swelling with pride at his own and the leaf’s importance.

Old Nancy handed the painted leaf back to Molly. “Place it under that Grey Pumpkin,” she said, pointing to Jack’s Pumpkin.

When Molly had done this, she was told to strike her one remaining match and set light to the painted leaf. This she did, and stood back as it caught alight, and little tongues of fire and grey puffs of smoke curled round the Pumpkin. Higher the smoke curled, and thicker it became, until the Pumpkin was entirely hidden from view in the centre of a great column of grey smoke. Every one watched—fascinated. Suddenly there was a terrific bang—then the smoke began to thin and drift apart. As it cleared away a figure could be seen standing in the centre of it.

It was Jack, dazed and rubbing his eyes.

“Jack! Jack!” cried Molly, rushing toward him. “Oh, I am so glad! Are you quite all right, Jack? Are you hurt?” She drew him out of the smoke.

“Hullo!” he said, gazing round. “Oh, I say, what’s happened?”

He was soon told.

“And do you mean to say that I’ve been stowed away in an old pumpkin, and been rolling about all over the country?—well, I must have looked an ass!” said Jack. “But I don’t remember anything—only feel as if I’ve been shut up somewhere and been to sleep.” He found his hand seized by one friend after another, and himself congratulated and questioned by the crowd that gathered round him.

“And so it was your leaf that did the trick, Mr Papingay, was it?” said Jack, grasping that gentleman’s hand and pumping it up and down. “Well, I’m blessed—you are a marvellous man!”

Which was just what Mr Papingay, his face wreathed in smiles, was thinking about himself.