Part 3

“One day, when the stepfather was in the village near which they lived, a stranger passed through on his way to the capital city. He had neither wallet nor staff, but he drew a great crowd of idle people around him. He was carrying a red rooster, and although the fowl’s feet were tied together and his head hanging down, he crowed lustily every few minutes. It was this that drew the crowd of idle people. One with more curiosity than the rest asked the stranger why the rooster crowed and continued to crow.

“‘He is a royal bird,’ the stranger replied. ‘There is no king in this country, and whoever eats this bird’s head will reign as king.’

“‘He must be worth a pretty sum,’ said one.

“‘By no means,’ answered the stranger. ‘He is worth no more than a silver piece.’

“But the people only laughed. They thought the stranger was making fun of them. He went on his way, and had soon passed beyond the village. Now it chanced that the stepfather of the bright and handsome boy was in the crowd that gathered around the stranger. He thought it was very queer that a rooster should be crowing so bravely when his legs were tied together and while his head was hanging down. So he said to himself that there might be some truth in what the stranger said. He ran after the man and soon overtook him.

“‘That is a fine fowl,’ said the boy’s stepfather.

“‘It is a royal bird,’ the stranger replied.

“‘What is he worth?’ asked the boy’s stepfather.

“‘I shall be glad to get rid of him,’ said the stranger. ‘Give me a piece of silver and take him.’

“This was soon done, and the stepfather took the rooster under his arm.

“‘Remember this,’ remarked the stranger; ‘if you eat the head of that bird you will reign in this country as king.’

“‘Oh, ho!’ laughed the boy’s stepfather, ‘you are a fine joker.’

“With the fowl under his arm he went toward his home. He had gone but a little way when he turned to look at the stranger, but the man had disappeared. The country was level for a long distance in all directions, but the stranger could not be seen.

“The boy’s stepfather carried the fowl home and said to his wife:—

“‘Cook this bird for supper. Cook the head also.’

“The man was afraid to tell his wife why he wanted the head cooked. He knew she was very fond of her son, and he reasoned to himself that if she knew what the stranger had said she would give the head to the boy. So he only told her to be careful to cook the fowl’s head and save it for him.

“The wife did as she was bid. She cooked the fowl and the fowl’s head, and placed them away in the cupboard until her husband and her son came home. It happened that something kept the husband in the village a little later than usual, and while the woman was waiting for him her son came in and said he was very hungry.

“‘You will find something in the cupboard,’ his mother said. ‘Eat a little now, and when your stepfather returns we will have supper.’

“The boy went to the cupboard. The fowl was on a big dish ready to be carved, and the head was in the saucer by itself. To save time and trouble the boy took the head and ate it, and then felt as if he could wait for supper very comfortably. The husband came, and the woman proceeded to set the table. When she came to look for the fowl’s head it was gone.

“‘Why, I ate it,’ said her son, when he heard her exclamation of surprise. ‘I found it in the saucer, and I ate it rather than cut the fowl.’

“The stepfather was angry enough to tear his hair, but he said nothing. The next day the boy went hunting. He was ready to return about noon, but, being tired, he stretched himself in the shade of a tree and was soon sound asleep.

“While he was sleeping his soundest, the nine men who had been appointed by the people to find them a king chanced to pass that way. They saw the handsome boy sleeping in the shade of the tree, and they stationed themselves around and watched him. For four long hours they watched the boy, but still the shadow of the tree kept the sun from his face. The nine men consulted among themselves, and they came to the conclusion that the shadow of the tree hadn’t moved, and that the boy was a well-favored lad who would look very well when he was dressed up and put on a throne with a crown on his head.

“So they shook the boy and aroused him from his sleep.

“‘What’s your name?’ asked the spokesman.

“‘Telambus,’ replied the boy.

“‘Where do you live?’

“‘Not far from here.’

“‘How would you like to be king?’

“‘I have never tried it. Is it an easy trade to learn?’

“The nine men looked at each other shrewdly and smiled. They each had the same thought.

“They went with the boy to his home and saw his mother, and inquired about his age and his education, and asked a hundred other questions besides. They cautioned the woman as they were leaving to say nothing of their visit except this, that they were going about hunting for a king and had called to make some inquiries.

“When her husband came home he had already heard of the visit of the distinguished company, and so he asked his wife a thousand questions. All the answer he got was that the visitors were hunting for a king.

“‘I’m sure it was for me they were hunting,’ said the man. ‘How unfortunate that I was away.’

“‘Well, don’t worry,’ replied his wife. ‘If they ever intended to make you king, they’ll come back after you.’

“‘You don’t seem to think much about it,’ remarked the man, ‘but some of these days you’ll find out that you narrowly escaped being the king’s wife.’

“The nine citizens were so certain that they had found the right person to rule over their country as king, that they made haste to return to the capital city and tell the news to the eleven wise men who had sent them out. They made their report, and the eleven wise men put their heads together once more. When they had consulted together a long time, they said to the people:—

“‘There is one test by which you may know whether a king has been found. Send a messenger and ask this young man to send us a rope made of sand a hundred feet long.’

“The messenger straightway went to the house of Telambus and told him what the eleven wise men had said. His mother straightway fell to crying. But Telambus laughed at her fears.

“‘Tell the eleven wise men,’ he said to the messenger, ‘that there are various patterns of sand ropes. Let them send me a sample of the kind they want—a piece only a foot long—and I will make them one a hundred feet long.’

“The messenger returned to the eleven wise men and told them what Telambus had said. They put their heads together again and then told the people that the young man was wise enough to be their king. There was great rejoicing then, and the nine wise men who had found him went to fetch him.

“But Telambus shook his head. ‘Kings are not carried about in this way. Where are your banners and your chariots? Where are your drums and your cymbals?’

“So the nine men returned to the eleven wise men and told them what Telambus had said.

“‘He is right,’ said the eleven wise men. ‘He is a king already. Get your horses, your chariots, your banners, and your music, and bring our king in as he deserves to be brought.’

“So Telambus was made the king of that country.”

At this point Mrs. Meadows began to hunt for a knitting-needle she had dropped, and the children knew that the story was ended.

“That was a pretty good story,” said Mr. Thimblefinger. “It was short and sweet, as the king-bird said to the honey-bee.”

“Dey wuz too much kingin’ in it ter suit me. Ef folks got ter have kings, how come we ain’t got none?” asked Drusilla.

“Please tell me about the little girl with the vial of sparkling water from the Well at the End of the World,” said Sweetest Susan to Mr. Thimblefinger. “I expect she is nearly grown by this time.”

“Oh, yes,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, “she has now grown to be quite a young lady.”

“Huh!” grunted Drusilla, “ef folks grow up dat quick, I dunner what hinder me from bein’ a ol’ gray-head ’oman by sundown.”

VI.

THE MAGIC RING.

“Don’t you see,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, with apparent seriousness, “that if we hadn’t left off the story of the little girl who went to the Well at the End of the World just where we did, she would have had no time to grow?”

Buster John smiled faintly, but Sweetest Susan took the statement seriously, though she said nothing. Drusilla boldly indorsed it.

“I speck dat’s so,” she said, “kaze when de lil’ gal got back home wid dat vial she wa’n’t in no fix fer ter cut up dem kind er capers what de tales tell about.”

“Certainly not,” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, “but now she has had time to grow up to be a young lady, almost. Names go for so little down here that I haven’t told you hers. She was named Eolen. Some said it was a beautiful name, but her stepmother and her stepmother’s daughter said it was very ugly. Anyhow, that was her name, and whether it was ugly or whether it was beautiful, she had to make the best of it.

“Well, Eolen went home when the old man gave her the vial of water from the Well at the End of the World. She hid the vial beneath her apron until she reached her own room, and then she placed it at the very bottom of her little trunk,—a trunk that had belonged to her mother, who was dead.

“Nothing happened for a long time. Whenever Friday fell on the thirteenth of a month, Eolen would rub a drop of the sparkling water on her forehead, and she grew to be the loveliest young lady that ever was seen. Her stepsister was not bad-looking, but, compared with Eolen, she was ugly. The contrast between them was so great that people could not help noticing it and making remarks about it. Some of these remarks came to the ears of her stepmother.

“Now a stepmother can be just as nice and as good as anybody, but this particular stepmother cared for nothing except her own child, and she soon came to hate Eolen for being so beautiful. She had never treated the child kindly, but now she began to treat her cruelly. Eolen never told her father, but somehow he seemed to know what was going on, and he treated her more affectionately each day, as her stepmother grew more cruel.

“This lasted for some time, but finally Eolen’s father fell ill and died, and then, although she had many admirers, she was left without a friend she could confide in or rely on. To make matters worse, her stepmother produced a will in which her husband had left everything to her and nothing to Eolen. The poor girl didn’t know what to do. She knew that her father had made no such will, but how could she prove it? She happened to think of the vial of sparkling waters. She found it and turned it upside down.

“On the instant there was a loud knock at the street door. Eolen would have gone to open it, but her stepmother was there before her. She peeped from behind the curtains in the hallway, and saw a tall, richly-dressed stranger standing on the steps.

“‘I wish to see a young lady who lives here. She is the daughter of an old friend,’ said the stranger.

“The stepmother smiled very sweetly. ‘Come in. I will call her.’

“But instead of calling Eolen she called her own daughter. The girl went, but not with a good grace. She had been petted and spoiled, and was very saucy and impolite. The stranger smiled when he saw her.

“‘What was my mother doing when you saw her sitting by the Well at the End of the World?’ he asked.

“‘Do you take me for a crazy person?’ replied the girl.

“‘By no means,’ said the stranger. ‘You are not the young lady I came to see.’

“The stepmother then called Eolen and stood in the room frowning to see what was going to happen. Eolen came as soon as she was called, and the stranger seemed to be much struck by her beauty and modesty. He took her by the hand and led her to a chair.

“‘What was my mother doing when you saw her sitting by the Well at the End of the World?’ he asked.

“‘She was combing her hair,’ replied Eolen.

“‘That is true,’ remarked the stranger. ‘Yes, she was combing her hair.’ Then he turned to the stepmother and said: ‘May I see this young lady alone for a little while? I have a message for her from an old friend.’

“‘Certainly!’ the stepmother answered. ‘I hope her friend is well-to-do, for her father has died without leaving her so much as a farthing.’ Having said this, the stepmother flounced from the room.

“‘I came at your summons,’ said the stranger; ‘you turned the vial of sparkling water upside down, and now I am here to do your bidding.’

“Then Eolen told him of the death of her father, and how he had left all of his property to her stepmother. The stranger listened attentively, and while he listened played with a heavy gold ring that he wore on his third finger. When Eolen was through with her story he took this ring from his finger and handed it to her.

“‘Look through that,’ he said, ‘and tell me what you see.’

“Eolen held the ring to one of her eyes, and peeped through the golden circle. She was so surprised that she came near dropping the ring. She had held it up toward the stranger, but instead of seeing him through the ring she seemed to be looking into a room in which some person was moving about. As she continued to look, the scene appeared to be a familiar one. The room was the one her stepmother occupied—the room in which her father had died. She saw her stepmother take from her father’s private drawer a folded paper and hide it behind the mantel. Then the scene vanished, and through the ring she saw the stranger smiling at her.

“‘What you have seen happened some time ago.’ He took the ring and replaced it on his finger. ‘Your stepmother is now coming this way. She has been trying to hear what we are saying. When she comes in, do you get your father’s real will from behind the mantel and bring it to me.’

“Sure enough the stepmother came into the room silently and suddenly. She pretended to be much surprised to find any one there.

“‘You must excuse me,’ she said to the stranger. ‘I imagined I heard you take your leave some time ago.’

“‘You are excusable,’ replied the stranger. ‘I have been reflecting rather than talking. I have been thinking what could be done for your stepdaughter, who must be quite a burden to you.’

“The stepmother took this for an invitation to tell what she knew about Eolen, and you may be sure she didn’t waste any praise on the young lady. But right in the midst of it all Eolen, who had gone out, returned and handed the stranger the folded paper that had been hid behind the mantel. The stepmother recognized it and turned pale.

“‘This,’ said the stranger, opening the paper and reading it at a glance, ‘is your father’s will. I see he has left you half the property.’

“‘That is the will my husband forgot to destroy,’ cried the stepmother. ‘I have the real will.’

“‘May I see it?’ asked the stranger.

“The stepmother ran to fetch it, but when the stranger had opened it, not a line nor a word of writing could be found on it.

“‘I see you are fond of a joke,’ said the stranger, but the stepmother had fallen into a chair and sat with her face hid in her hands. ‘I am fond of a joke myself,’ continued the stranger, ‘and I think I can match yours.’

“With that the stranger took the real will, tore it in small pieces and threw it into the fireplace.

“‘What have you done?’ cried Eolen.

“‘The most difficult thing in the world,’ replied the stranger; ‘I have made this lady happy.’

“And sure enough the stepmother was smiling and thanking him.

“‘I thought you were my enemy,’ she said, ‘but now I see you are my friend indeed. How can I repay you?’

“‘By treating this young lady here as your daughter,’ he replied. ‘Have no fear,’ he said, turning to Eolen. ‘No harm can befall you. What I have done is for the best.’

“But before he went away he gave Eolen the gold ring, and told her to wear it for the sake of his mother, who sat by the Well at the End of the World. She thanked him for his kindness and promised she would keep the ring and treasure it as long as she lived.

“But there was one trouble with this magic ring. It was too large for any of Eolen’s fingers. She had the whitest and most beautiful hands ever seen, but the ring would fit none of her fingers. Around her neck she wore a necklace of coral beads, and on this necklace she hung the ring.

“For many day’s Eolen’s stepmother was kind to her, almost too kind. But the woman was afraid her stepdaughter would inform the judges of her effort to steal and hide her husband’s will. The judges were very severe in those days and in that country, and if the woman had been brought before them and such a crime proven on her, she would have been sent to the rack.”

“What is a rack?” asked Sweetest Susan.

“Hit’s de place whar dey scrunch folks’s ve’y vitals out’n ’em,” said Drusilla solemnly.

“That’s about right, I reckon,” assented Mr. Thimblefinger. “Well, the stepmother was as kind to Eolen as she knew how to be, but the kindness didn’t last long. She hated her stepdaughter worse than ever. She was afraid of her, but she didn’t hate her any the less on that account.

“Eolen had a habit of taking off her coral necklace and placing it under her pillow at night. One night, when she was fast asleep, her stepmother crept into the room and slipped the ring from the necklace. She had no idea it was a magic ring. She said to herself that it would look better on her daughter’s finger than it did on Eolen’s coral necklace, so she took the ring and slipped it on the finger of her sleeping daughter, and then stepped back a little to admire the big golden circle on the coarse, red hand.

“Almost immediately the daughter began to toss and tumble in her sleep. She flung her arms wildly about and tried to talk. The mother, becoming alarmed, tried to wake her, but it was some time before the girl could be roused from her troubled sleep.

“‘Oh!’ she cried, when she awoke, ‘what is the matter with me? I dreamed some one was cutting my finger off. What was it? Oh! it hurts me still!’

“She held up the finger on which her mother had placed the ring and tried to tear off the golden band. ‘It burns—it burns!’ she cried. ‘Take it off.’

“Her mother tried to take the ring off, but it was some time before she succeeded. Her daughter struggled and cried so that it was a hard matter to remove the ring, which seemed to be as hot as fire. A red blister was left on the girl’s finger, and she was in great pain.

“‘What have I done?’ the mother cried, seeing her daughter’s condition. The two made so much noise that Eolen awoke and went to the door to find out what the trouble was.

“‘Go away, you hussy!’ screamed the stepmother when she saw Eolen at the door. ‘Go away! You are a witch!’

“‘Why, what have I done?’ Eolen asked.

“‘You are the cause of all this trouble. For amusement I placed your gold ring on my dear daughter’s finger, and now see her condition!’

“‘Why, then, did you take my ring? If you had left it where I placed it, you would have had none of this trouble.’ Eolen spoke with so much dignity that her stepmother was surprised into silence, though she could talk faster and louder than a flutter-mill. But finally she found her voice.

“‘Go away! You are a witch!’ she said to Eolen.

“But Eolen went boldly into the room. ‘Give me my ring!’ she exclaimed. ‘You shall wrong me no further. Give me my ring! I will have it!’

“This roused the stepmother’s temper. She searched on the floor till she found the ring. Then she opened a window and flung it as far as she could send it.

“‘Now let’s see you get it!’ she cried. With that she seized Eolen by the arm and pushed her from the room, saying, ‘Go away, you witch!’

“Now, then,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, after pausing to take breath, “what was the poor girl to do?” He looked at Sweetest Susan as if expecting her to answer the question.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Sweetest Susan.

“Shake up de bottle,” exclaimed Drusilla.

“Exactly so,” said Mr. Thimblefinger.

VII.

THE COW WITH THE GOLDEN HORNS.

“I hope that isn’t all of the story,—if you call it a story,” said Buster John.

“Which?” remarked Mr. Thimblefinger, with an air of having forgotten the whole business.

“Why, that about throwing the gold ring from the window,” replied Buster John.

“Well, no,” said Mr. Thimblefinger, in an absent-minded way. “In a book, you know, you can read right on if you want to, or you can put the book down and rest yourself when you get tired. But when I’m telling a story, you must give me time to rest. I’m so little, you know, that it doesn’t take much to tire me. Of course, if you don’t like the story, I can stop any time. It’s no trouble at all to stop. Just wink your eye at me twice, and I’m mum.”

“Oh, we don’t want you to stop,” said Sweetest Susan.

“No, don’t stop,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, drowsily, “because then everybody gets to talking, and I can’t doze comfortably. Your stories are as comforting to me as a feather-bed.”

“Then I’ll add a bolster to the bed,” exclaimed Mr. Thimblefinger. He hesitated a moment, and then went on with the story:—

“Of course, Eolen didn’t know what to do when her stepmother threw the gold ring from the window and pushed her from the room. She went back to her bed and lay down, but she couldn’t sleep. After a while daylight came, and then she dressed herself and went down into the garden to hunt for the ring. She searched everywhere, but the ring was not to be found.

“Now the ring could have been found very easily if it had been where it fell when Eolen’s stepmother threw it from the window. But that night a tame crow, belonging to the Prince of that country, was roosting in one of the trees in the garden.”

“Oh, was it a sure enough Prince?” asked Sweetest Susan.

“Why, certainly,” replied Mr. Thimblefinger, with great solemnity. “A make-believe Prince could never have reigned in that country. The people would have found him out, and he would have been put in the calaboose. Well, this tame crow that belonged to the Prince had wandered off over the fields, and had gone so far away from the palace that it was unable to get back before dark, and so it went to bed in one of the trees growing in the garden behind the house where Eolen lived.

“Of course, as soon as morning came, the crow was wide awake and ready for any mischief that might turn up. It flew to the ground, hoping to find something for breakfast, and hopped about, searching in the leaves and grass. Suddenly the crow saw the ring shining on the ground and picked it up and turned it over. What could it be? The crow’s curiosity was such that it forgot all about breakfast. It seized the ring in its beak and went flopping to the palace. It was so early in the morning that the palace was closed, but the crow flew straight to the Prince’s window and beat his wings against it until some of the attendants came and opened it, when the crow walked in with great dignity.

“The Prince had been awakened by the noise, but when he saw the bird stalking into the room as stiff as a major-general of militia, he fell back on his bed laughing. The crow hopped to the foot-board of the bed and stood there holding the gold ring in his beak, as much as to say, ‘Don’t you wish you were as rich as I am?’

“The Prince rose from his bed and took the ring from the crow, but it was so hot that he made haste to drop it in a basin of cold water. Then a curious thing happened. The ring seemed to expand in the basin until it was as large as the bottom, and within the circle it made the picture of a beautiful girl standing by a milk-white cow. There were two peculiarities about the milk-white cow. Her ears were as black as jet, and her horns shone and glittered as if they were made of gold.