Chapter 3

The words seemed to Bertram too good to be true, and he read them again slowly. '"Sad faces brightened with the utmost despatch." "Tears dried." That's for girls of course,' he remarked (but why he was so emphatic it is difficult to say, since it was only last night that----but that's of no importance). '"Bad governesses punished." Hooroo! "Hard lessons made easy." Now this,' said Bertram, 'is the right kind of fellow, this A-M-E-L-I-O-R-A-T-O-R, this Ameliorator!' and so saying, he pushed the card into his pocket and looked out of the window to whistle good-morning to his robin. But the bird was not there. His face fell again. 'Pooh,' he said, 'they're all against me now, but I don't care,' and as he walked downstairs to breakfast, he made up his mind to be thoroughly fractious.

V

THE CROSS-GRAINED MORNING

In the City of Birds there were several large green gardens set aside for children. These gardens were the finest places in the world in which to play hide-and-seek, because of the summer-houses and grottoes and winding paths; also there were ponds to sail boats on, and trees to climb, and caves for robbers, and a little circle of wet grass in the midst of rhododendron bushes for fairies to plot and plan in; and for very hot afternoons a soft bank where you could lie in the shade of a cedar which seemed to bless the earth with its broad hands.

Every morning after lessons the four children used to meet in one of these gardens and play till dinner-time. Sometimes they would play cricket until they were too tired to run another yard, and then lean over the rim of the fountain and watch the goldfish gliding silently through the water, or they would sail their boats on the pond, or join in the marriage ceremonies of two of the blue ants that lived in the bark of the cedar. There was always plenty of excitement at a blue ant's wedding, on account of the bad behaviour of the company. The bridegroom had a way of ignoring the solemnity of the occasion and trying to walk to church with one of the bridesmaids, or even the bride's mother, while sometimes the bride would forget all about her duties, and leave the procession in order to pick up and stagger away with a ridiculous piece of wood which she could not possibly really need. Very often the bride had to be changed as often as six times before the church was reached, where Bertram, who always insisted on being the clergy-man, was waiting to perform the service. Ants, it must be confessed, are not good at games: they are too busy, or, as Bertram put it, too selfish. Neither are wood-lice. Just at important moments wood-lice turn sulky and roll themselves into little balls. Worms are most trust-worthy, although never eager for sensible play; but worms are slimy, and Beryl always refused to touch them. Spiders, too, have a way of getting down one's neck. Perhaps frogs are best of all. Frogs are quite satisfactory; they always jump when you touch them up. Toads, on the other hand, are sulky; but their eyes are good to look into.

On this particular morning, Bertram and Beryl, Bobus and Aline met as usual, but for some reason or other they found it impossible to have a really good game; whatever they tried appeared flat and tiresome. They began with cricket and were fairly successful until Bobus hit the ball into the pond, where it immediately sank. Hitherto it always had floated. Cricket, therefore, was over. Hide-and-seek took its place and was going pretty well until Aline fell and hurt her knee. So no more hide-and-seek. They tried the blue ants, and then the lizards that lived under the leaves in the violet bed; but met with nothing but unsociableness. The ants were quite nasty at being interfered with, and one of them crawled up Beryl's arm.

At last the children made up their minds to try no longer, and instead they lay on their backs on the grass and grumbled. It was clear that the world was against them, and what is the good of fighting in the face of such opposition? Bertram began the grumbling. 'Old Tabby,' he said,--that being the way in which he spoke of Miss Tabitha, his governess,--'is a beast. She makes me learn heaps of things which nobody can ever need to know.'

'And I mayn't have a new doll,' said Beryl.

'And I mayn't stay up later than eight,' said Bobus.

'And I mayn't eat cake until I've had three pieces of horrid bread and butter,' said Aline.

'It's a shame,' said all.

'Yes,' Bertram went on, 'and my robin wasn't singing this morning.'

'No more was my linnet,' said Beryl.

'No more was my chaffinch,' said Bobus.

'And no more was my blackbird,' said Aline.

'It's a shame,' said Bertram again; 'everything's against us. Except,' he added, pulling the card from his pocket, 'except the Amel--Amelior--except the Ameliorator.'

'Why, have you got one too?' Aline asked, producing a card exactly like it, and as she did so Beryl and Bobus also each showed one. On comparing notes it seemed that all the cards had come in the night in the same mysterious way.

The four children looked at each other in silence. They all wanted to say the same thing, but no one wished to be first. Bertram, as usual, took the lead: 'Let's go and see the Am--what-d'ye-call-him,' he said.

VI

THE LITTLE OLD MAN

A few minutes later the children stood hand in hand before the new shop in the Market Square, and as they did so they suddenly discovered that their wounded hearts were well again, just as you find that the tooth stops aching at the moment you reach the dentist's doorstep. They might even then have run home again, had not Bertram, feeling a little doubtful of the cure and more than a little inquisitive, peeped into the shop.

'Come in, Bertram,' said a blithe voice, 'I've been expecting you all the morning'; and before he and his companions knew where they were the door was shut, the four children were inside it, each in a comfortable chair, and in front of them was absolutely the pleasantest little old man they had ever seen.

He had a smooth, ruddy face, and white hair, and large round spectacles behind which his eyes danced and sparkled, and a comical kindly mouth, and his clothes were of bright colours that merged into each other as easily as those of the rainbow and were as certain a sign that the sun was shining somewhere. Moreover there was in his appearance a vague but unmistakable likeness to the one person of all persons whom Bertram loved best, and to the one whom Beryl loved best, and to the one whom little Aline loved best, and to the one whom Bobus loved best. Yes, it was very strange, but although all these people were totally different there was something about the little old man that bore resemblance to each of them.

VII

THE STOCK IN TRADE

When the children summoned up enough courage to look round, they saw that the shop was stocked with drawers and bottles and had quite a business-like appearance. One bottle was labelled 'Mixture for Sulks,' and another, 'Bad Temper Lotion.' Then there were 'Cross-patch Powders' and 'Pills against Meddling.' In a prominent place Beryl saw two tall flasks, one almost full of water and the other almost empty, and the water in the one that was nearly full was thick and muddy, but that in the second was clear as crystal. The flask that was nearly full was lettered 'Tears Shed for Ourselves,' and the other, 'Tears Shed for Others.' But also there were pleasanter things than these: there were cupboards full of sweets, shelves of picture books and fairy stories, and a great store of toys. Also there were many drawers, labelled encouragingly, 'Rewards for Good Humour,' 'Prizes for Hard Work,' 'Prizes for Hard Play,' 'Presents for Anticipating Wishes,' 'Gifts for Forgetting Number One,' and so on.

It took only a short time to see these things, and meanwhile the little old man was standing in front of the fire, beaming merrily. Then, when all four had taken a good look, and were feeling rather bad in consequence, for they could not feel entitled to much beyond pills and powders, he led them into the inner room--his consulting-room he called it--saying, 'Come along, little sorrowful ones, and we will inquire into the great trouble.' And at once they had some difficulty in remembering their grievance at all, although an hour ago it had seemed to fill the whole landscape.

VIII

THE ADVICE

'Now,' said the Ameliorator, when they were all comfortably inside the inner room, 'I want to tell you about some of my friends. "Ladies first" is a good rule: let me tell you about a little girl I once knew,'--here he laid his hand on Beryl's head--'who had just such soft hair as this, and just such a gloomy little face.' Here Beryl smiled, in spite of herself. 'Yes,' added the Ameliorator, 'and just such a smile now and then. And what do you think the trouble was? Why, although she had no fewer than fifteen dolls, all given to her by thoughtful friends, she wanted a new one. These fifteen dolls were very good ones, especially the faithful old Arthur John, a wooden gentleman of strong affections and no nose worth mentioning, yet nothing would do but she must have an aristocratic pink wax lady in white muslin, that hung in a certain shop window and stared hard all day at the little ragamuffins who pressed their faces against the pane and said, "O my, ain't she a beauty!" Why the little girl wanted her I could never understand, because she had no expression at all, and my young friend had a brother who had declared that if any more "sappy wax dummies" were brought into the house, he would put them to bed in the oven. Still, in spite of this terrible threat, she did want her, and in her despair she came to me about it.

'Well,' added the Ameliorator, 'what do you think I did? I made her sit down by this very table, and I opened this very drawer, and I took out these very pictures, and as I showed them to her' (here he began to lay before the bewildered Beryl picture after picture of ragged street children) 'I told her how these little wretches were forced to run about all day in the gutters, whether it was wet or fine, cold or warm, because they had no nurseries, and how they could get very little to eat, and how the only toys they had were bits of wood and old bottles. And then and there I made so bold as to suggest to my discontented friend--who of course had every reason to be unhappy, when her mother, who already had given her so many nice things, refused to buy her an expensive doll--that if she were not only to stop wishing for any more new toys, but were to send a few of those she already had to be given away to some of these children who had none, why I fancied she would not be altogether miserable any longer. That is what I told her to do, and that is what she did, and I believe I may truthfully say it was a wonderful cure.

'Then--let me see--yes,' the Ameliorator continued more briskly, 'then there was a boy, or--shall I say, a little man?--who once consulted me. The difficulty, if I remember rightly, was intellectual. O yes!--he was convinced that he, being a wise patriarch of eight or nine, knew more than the lady engaged by his parents to teach him. So he applied to her a not very respectful nickname and refused to learn the lessons that she set him, and swaggered about calling her a beast, which is not the right attitude of a gentleman (although old enough to know everything) towards a lady, and made himself as unpleasant as he could.

'By some chance, one of my cards fell into his hands: he read it and was fascinated by the words, "Bad governesses punished." He came to me to arrange for the punishment. The best way, I told him, is shocks. There is nothing like a shock to bring a governess to her senses. "Now, what is the last thing in the world your governess expects from you?" I asked. "Why, that you will learn a lesson of your own accord, without constant jogs from her." So that if he were to do this, I told him, he would give her a severe shock, and thus punish her.

'He went away delighted with the plan. Morning after morning he appeared in the schoolroom with his task all prepared, and every morning the governess received a new shock. And when I peeped through the window not long after, there they sat, close together, she happy after her punishment, and he happy because (only he didn't know this) he had made her so. For she was unhappy before--very; but young fellows with exalted ideas on their own judgment and knowledge have no time to observe the unhappiness of their governesses or parents, have they, Bertram?'

Bertram did not answer: this shock system of punishment was new to him. He felt muddled, but he began to think he would try it. He was not, however, quite in a condition to see the Ameliorator clearly.

'And little Bobus doesn't like going to bed?' the Ameliorator asked, turning to Bobus. 'My dear sir, it can be made the best thing in the world. Let me tell you how to make it so. Directly you get into bed, begin to think what pleasant little surprise you can give some one on the next day: any one, mother or father, cousin or playmate, nurse or beggar in the street. You will find this such an exciting game that you will run to bed eagerly when the time comes, and, what is more, it makes you readier to get up. At any rate, Bobus, try it.

'And little Aline,' the Ameliorator went on, taking Aline's hand and beaming down upon her with his kindly eyes, which danced more than ever behind his round spectacles, 'little Aline prefers cake to bread and butter! Dear, dear, this is very sad. If she eats three pieces of bread and butter she may have cake, but not till then. Well, I think I should advise her to eat those three pieces. Little girls who eat only cake grow up to be weedy and weak, and unable to do half the good things of life: they can't skate, and they can't dance, and they can't play games. So I should advise Aline to eat the bread and butter.'

IX

THE TOKENS

'Now,' said the little old man, 'you must run home or you'll be late for dinner. But first let me find some little token of our conversation for each,' and so saying, he went to the drawer labelled 'Prizes for Hard Work,' and found something for Bertram; and to the drawer labelled 'Gifts for Forgetting Number One,' and found something for Beryl; and to the drawer labelled 'Presents for Anticipating Wishes,' and found something for Bobus; and to the drawer labelled 'Rewards for Hard Play,' and found something for Aline.

'Now, good-bye,' said he, holding open the door.

But Bertram, who was always the leader, did not move. He seemed still to have something on his mind.

'No, no,' said the Ameliorator, who was a wonderful thought-reader, 'no, no, there is nothing to pay. Why, I have had the pleasure of your company for a whole hour! That's payment enough for any one. Now run along.'

'But,' Bertram faltered, still not moving, 'I haven't earned the "Prize for Hard Work."'

'No,' said each of the others, 'I haven't earned mine either.'

'Ah!' said the Ameliorator, 'but you are going to.'

X

THE RETURN

Hand in hand, silently, the four children walked through the city. And when each one reached home, there, in the branches of the tree before the house, was its bird in full song.

The Schoolboy's Apprentice

_TO L. F. G._

Once upon a time there was a schoolboy called Chimp. Chimp was not his name: his name was Alexander Joseph Chemmle. Chimp was short for chimpanzee, an animal which his schoolfellows agreed that he was like.

Chimp usually spent his holidays in his uncle's family; but one summer he travelled on a visit to his father, who was British Consul in a foreign port, so far away that the boy had only a few days at home before it was time again to join the steamer for England.

Chimp, who was always adventurous, had been at sea for only a week on the return journey, when one evening at dusk he lost his hold as he was clambering out to the end of the main crosstrees, and fell overboard. The other passengers were listening to a concert in the saloon ('screeching' Chimp had called it, when he took refuge in the chief engineer's room), and, work being over, the crew were for'ard smoking, so that there was no one except the first officer and the man at the wheel to hear the shout that Chimp sent up from the water. As a matter of fact both men heard it, but it caused them to do no more than say to themselves at the same moment, 'There's that boy again! Up to some mischief, I'll be bound.' No help, therefore, came to Chimp. The great black ship glided by, the screw threshed the water into blinding foam, and when he could see and think again, Chimp was alone in the ocean.

Chimp was a good swimmer. He struck out at once vigorously in the direction of the island which they had passed at sundown. The sea was as smooth as a pond and quite warm, and after several minutes had passed, the boy turned over on his back and floated comfortably, moving his arms just enough to give him an impetus towards the shore. Although he was upset by the accident which had so suddenly substituted the water for the ship (and it was nearing supper time, and there were always ices for supper!), Chimp was not a boy at all given to fear, and he could think of his new plight with composure. His first calm thought was regret for the mongoose which he was taking back to school, 'although,' as he said to himself, 'the chances are, Porker wouldn't let me keep it,' Porker being the way in which Chimp spoke of Dr. Cyril Bigley Plowden, Principal of Witherson College. His second feeling was keenness to play Robinson Crusoe in earnest. Chimp and other boys had often on half-holidays made believe that an island in the river was Juan Fernandez, but the game usually began with one fight to decide who should be Robinson, and ended with another to check the arrogance of Friday. Now, however, he was but an hour or so from an uninhabited island (of course it was uninhabited) and bothered by no rival for chief honours. He decided that to fall into the sea from a steamer at night was a lark. But a little while afterwards he thought of sharks and remembered, with something of a pang, good times in England; then he wondered what would happen on the ship when they missed him; then he glowed at the anticipation of the other boys' envy when they learned where he had been; then he thought of sharks again; and then his feet touched the bottom.

When Chimp at last crawled out of the water, he was nigh dead beat. In the soft still light which the moon poured down he could see beyond the beach a dark strip which seemed to promise a bed. He staggered blindly over the stones to this refuge, found that it was grass, and, sinking upon it, was in a moment asleep.

The sun was high and hot when Chimp awoke. For a moment he looked around him bewildered, wondering why the dream would not finish: then he remembered everything. At the same moment he was conscious, as he afterwards expressed it, that he had had nothing to eat for a hundred years. Chimp stood up, yawned the stiffness out of his bones, and set forth to seek for food and claim his kingdom. He made at once for the highest ground and gathered the island in a bird's-eye view. It seemed to be about eight miles long and three broad, mainly rock, bare and red as a brick. There were a few trees and some wide patches of rank grass. Not a sign of human life was to be seen, but swift green lizards shot across the ground at Chimp's feet, a million grasshoppers shrilled into his ears, and white gulls with cruel eyes hovered and wheeled above him. The prospect did not cheer Robinson Crusoe II., but he set out for the interior of the island, searching every miniature valley for a spring, every tree and shrub for fruit. But he sought in vain. Then recollecting stories of the toothsomeness of turtles' eggs baked in the sand, Chimp turned to the shore again and explored the coast. At the end of three hours he said disgustedly, 'What a liar Ballantyne was!' and was just sinking down exhausted, when his heart gave a big _plump!_ and stood still, for there before him was a well-trodden path.

At first, hungry as he was, Chimp's feeling was grief at the discovery that after all the island was not uninhabited, but his regret soon faded before the anticipation of the meal he would devour in the abode to which the pathway led, and he struck into it with new vigour, taking the inland direction. The path rose with every step. At last, a mile or so from the sea, it turned abruptly round a boulder, and Chimp suddenly found himself in the presence of an elderly man with a long grey beard, who was sitting at a table in the entrance of a cave, writing.

The meeting seemed to be the most unexpected thing that had ever happened to either of them, for the elderly man rose with a start that upset both ink and table, and Chimp caught himself looking round for something to cling to for support. Not finding anything, he sat down on the ground and stared at the elderly man. He would have liked to have gone forward to pick up the ink-bottle, but dared not, on account of a peculiar feeling in his knees. Meanwhile the elderly man stared at the boy, and Chimp wondered if he ever would speak, and if it would be in English when he did. After a long pause the elderly man picked up the ink. Then looking at Chimp still more curiously through his spectacles, he spoke.

'What are you?' he asked, in good English.

'My name,' said Chimp, 'is Alexander Joseph Chemmle.'

'No, no,' the elderly man replied, 'I mean, what are you--what? Not a boy, are you? Not really and truly a boy! Oh say, say you are a boy!'

'Yes,' said Chimp, although for the moment, so intense and unreasonable was the other's excitement about the matter, he almost doubted it. 'Yes, I'm a boy.'

'A boy! a boy!' the elderly man exclaimed joyfully. 'Eureka!' Then he grew calmer, and continued: 'Dear me, this is very interesting. A most fortunate chance! A boy, you say. How extremely happy an accident. Now what kind of boy might you be?'

Chimp was puzzled. 'I suppose,' he thought, 'I ought to call myself a good boy, and yet that isn't exactly how Porker would describe me. And what is more, good boys are such saps.' Then he spoke aloud: 'Well, sir, I'm a fairish specimen of a boy, I think.'

'Good!' said the elderly man. 'Good! An average boy. So much the better. And what does it feel like to be a boy?'

'Whew!' said Chimp to himself, 'I came for breakfast, and all I seem to be getting is an exam.' However, he did his best to answer the question. 'Why, sir,' he said aloud, 'as long as you don't get too many lines and swishings, it feels good to be a boy. But swishing makes it feel bad sometimes.'

'Lines?' inquired the other. 'Swishings? What are they?'

'Why,' said Chimp, 'when Porker canes you, that's swishing, and lines are passages from Virgil which you have to copy out if you make howlers--I mean, if you make mistakes.'

'Yes, yes,' said the elderly man, a little vaguely. 'And so it's good to be a boy?' he added.

A happy thought struck Chimp. 'It is good,' he replied; 'but there are other times when it's bad, besides those I mentioned. When--when you're hungry, for instance.'

'Ah!' exclaimed the elderly man, rising from the table. 'I was forgetting. You must pardon me, Alexander Joseph Chemmle. I have, I fear, nothing to offer you but biscuits and tinned meats. Do you care for tinned meats? I keep most kinds.'

'I like bloater paste,' Chimp said. 'I always take a pot or two back to school.'

'Ah!' cried his host eagerly, 'you like bloater paste best? That's famous! So do I. A community of taste!'

He disappeared into the cave, and in a minute or so came forth again, bearing the bloater paste and a plate in one hand, and the biscuits and a knife in the other. 'Now,' he said, 'fall to, and while you are eating these I must try to find something else. Tinned pears--do you like them?'