Chapter XI

It took them an hour to tell each other where they had been and what they did there, and where they were going and what they expected to do, and you may well believe Maida was glad to see all of them again. Especially Billy, for Billy was the very nicest boy. Maida was not very fond of the boys at home. They were always throwing snowballs, or fighting, or pulling the cat’s tail, or tying tin cans to the poor dogs. Billy wasn’t a bit like that. The Man with the Growly Voice had been delayed because he didn’t know the Arctic Circle was an imaginary line so he had to get a ladder and climb over it, but he had managed to preserve his can of climate through all his travels and Maida was delighted to learn she would have his company the rest of the journey. As for Santa Claus, he was anxious to reclaim Jack-in-the-Box and the Candy Kid, but they flatly refused to go home until they had finished the trip with Maida; so Santa decided to take Billy and go too, which was very nice of him.

“Do you know,” said Jack-in-the-Box, as they all sat about the hotel office planning the journey, “there is something wrong with my knee.”

“Rheumatism,” said Maida wisely.

“Nonsense,” replied Jack, “how can one have rheumatism in a ball-bearing? It’s a hot box.”

“What is a hot box?” inquired the Candy Kid, “I never had one.” “Of course not,” Jack answered, “if you had one you’d melt.”

“I know what a hot box is,” said Maida. “I was on a train once and it stopped so we all got out to see what was the matter, and we found one of the axles had got dry and set fire to things, and it was smoking dreadfully.”

“You’d better go to a doctor,” said Billy solicitously.

“Doctor,” snapped Jack, “what good could _he_ do?” “You’d better send for a plumber,” advised the Candy Kid.

“No, a plumber won’t do,” said Jack reflectively, “he would only say, ‘I’ll be around to-morrow with a piece of wire,’ and then put in a bill for more than I’m worth. I am not sure when I’m to be repaired, whether I go to the jeweler, or the blacksmith.”

Santa Claus put an end to the discussion, by thinking a new knee for Jack, and as soon as he thought it, why there it was and Jack was as spry as ever.

Maida wandered about the hotel marvelling at the wonder and beauty of it. All the bell-boys were Albatrosses and they dusted the chairs with their wings, and carried satchels in their bills. The elevator boy was a dear little White Fox, and he invited Maida to take a ride with him. So she did, and got off at the thirty-ninth story.

“I would take you higher,” barked the Fox, “but the sun is very hot to-day, and the fortieth-story has just melted.”

So she stepped out of the elevator and walked about till she came to a lovely big room, with frost letters on the door, which read, “Ladies’ Reception Room.” It was the most gorgeous room she had ever seen. The pillars were made of solid green ice, the roof was all icicles and stalactites, and the walls were covered with lovely frost pictures, just the kind you see on the window on a cold day--and they changed every now and then. While Maida was admiring the room she became aware that someone was standing at a window gazing out over the city, and looking closer she found it was the most beautiful lady she had ever seen. Her face and hands were snow white, her long robe was white and frosty. She wore a star on her forehead and her face was very sad. For some reason Maida felt very sorry for this lady, so she went to her and touched her on the arms. Did you ever put your hand on an awfully, _awfully_ cold piece of ice on a winter’s day? Remember how it was so cold it almost _burned_? Well, that’s the way Maida felt when she touched the lady.

“My! but you’re cold!” said Maida, “I think you’ve got a chill.”

The lady smiled sadly, and looked at her, so Maida smiled back, but she kept at a little distance.

“Who are you?” asked Maida, “and why do you smile so sadly? And why are you so cold?”

“I am Stalacta, an ice maiden, one of the Vestals of the Queen Aurora Borealis.” She sighed, and everything the lady said sounded exactly like the most beautiful poetry. “And with my companions I had sworn never to leave the Queen, but to serve her always. But one night I had a dream--ah, a most glorious vision. I seemed to float away on the bosom of a cloud, to a far land where all was light and warm and beautiful--and there I saw one whom I can never forget--nay, I would not forget him if I could. He was tall and straight and strong, his face was kind and his eyes were true; and as he looked at me my heart seemed to burst its icy bands, and I knew that I could never serve the Queen again, but could only be happy--with him. I beckoned, he drew near. I held out my arms, and then--I awoke. Night after night I dream of him--night after night I see him holding out his arms; he is drawing nearer, always nearer, and I will never rest till he finds me.”

“Ah, ah, ah, come with me quick!” cried Maida. So she put on her mittens and took the Ice Lady by the hand, rushed her down the elevator, and hurried her across the hotel office to where the Disconsolate Lover was still standing, looking out the window.

“Here he is,” she cried to the Ice Lady; then to the Disconsolate Lover, “Here is your dream--the White Lady.”

The Disconsolate Lover turned, and he and the White Lady stared a moment at each other. Then _what_ did _he_ do, right before everybody in the hotel office, but take the White Lady in his arms. But not for long; you see he didn’t realize how awfully cold the White Lady was, while _she_ didn’t realize how very warm _he_ was, being from the South. So if he hadn’t let her go--she’d have melted. And the two poor creatures who thought so much of each other were kept apart. The Disconsolate Lover couldn’t kiss the White Lady’s hand.

“Oh, what shall we do?” sighed the White Lady. “I think so much of you--I _do_ indeed; but you are fatal to me. If you come any nearer I’m sure I shall melt.”

“You freeze me through and through,” he answered; “but I don’t care for that--for you really are the most beautiful lady in the world.”

Then Maida had an inspiration, and she jumped up and down, clapping her hands with joy, for she had found a way to get them out of their troubles. “Come with us to the Wishing Post,” she cried, “and you can wish, each to be like the other.”

Everybody clapped their hands at this, and said it was a fine idea, so the Disconsolate Lover and the White Lady agreed to go along with them.