She was a very light weight--so light, in fact, that the ridiculous idea crossed my mind that it was rather easier going up, with her in my arms, than it would have been without her: and, when we reached the road above, with its cart-ruts and loose stones--all formidable obstacles for a lame child--I found that I had said "I'd better carry her over this rough place," before I had formed any mental connection between its roughness and my gentle little burden."Indeed it's troubling you too much, Sir!" the maid exclaimed."She can walk very well on the flat."But the arm, that was twined about my neck, clung just an atom more closely at the suggestion, and decided me to say "She's no weight, really.I'll carry her a little further.I'm going your way."The nurse raised no further objection: and the next speaker was a ragged little boy, with bare feet, and a broom over his shoulder, who ran across the road, and pretended to sweep the perfectly dry road in front of us."Give us a 'ap'ny!" the little urchin pleaded, with a broad grin on his dirty face.
"Don't give him a 'ap'ny!" said the little lady in my arms.The words sounded harsh: but the tone was gentleness itself."He's an idle little boy!" And she laughed a laugh of such silvery sweetness as I had never yet heard from any lips but Sylvie's.To my astonishment, the boy actually joined in the laugh, as if there were some subtle sympathy between them, as he ran away down the road and vanished through a gap in the hedge.
But he was back in a few moments, having discarded his broom and provided himself, from some mysterious source, with an exquisite bouquet of flowers."Buy a posy, buy a posy! Only a 'ap'ny!" he chanted, with the melancholy drawl of a professional beggar.
"Don't buy it!" was Her Majesty's edict as she looked down, with a lofty scorn that seemed curiously mixed with tender interest, on the ragged creature at her feet.
But this time I turned rebel, and ignored the royal commands.
Such lovely flowers, and of forms so entirely new to me, were not to be abandoned at the bidding of any little maid, however imperious.
I bought the bouquet: and the little boy, after popping the halfpenny into his mouth, turned head-over-heels, as if to ascertain whether the human mouth is really adapted to serve as a money-box.
With wonder, that increased every moment, I turned over the flowers, and examined them one by one: there was not a single one among them that I could remember having ever seen before.At last I turned to the nursemaid."Do these flowers grow wild about here? I never saw--"but the speech died away on my lips.The nursemaid had vanished!
"You can put me down, now, if you like," Sylvie quietly remarked.
I obeyed in silence, and could only ask myself "Is this a dream?", on finding Sylvie and Bruno walking one on either side of me, and clinging to my hands with the ready confidence of childhood.
"You're larger than when I saw you last!" I began."Really I think we ought to be introduced again! There's so much of you that I never met before, you know.""Very well!" Sylvie merrily replied."This is Bruno.It doesn't take long.He's only got one name!""There's another name to me!" Bruno protested, with a reproachful look at the Mistress of the Ceremonies."And it's--' Esquire'!""Oh, of course.I forgot," said Sylvie."Bruno--Esquire!""And did you come here to meet me, my children?" I enquired.
"You know I said we'd come on Tuesday, Sylvie explained."Are we the proper size for common children?""Quite the right size for children," I replied, (adding mentally "though not common children, by any means!") "But what became of the nursemaid?""It are gone!" Bruno solemnly replied.
"Then it wasn't solid, like Sylvie and you?"
"No.Oo couldn't touch it, oo know.If oo walked at it, oo'd go right froo!""I quite expected you'd find it out, once," said Sylvie."Bruno ran it against a telegraph post, by accident.And it went in two halves.
But you were looking the other way."
I felt that I had indeed missed an opportunity: to witness such an event as a nursemaid going 'in two halves' does not occur twice in a life-time!
"When did oo guess it were Sylvie?" Bruno enquired.
[Image...'It went in two halves']
"I didn't guess it, till it was Sylvie," I said."But how did You manage the nursemaid? ""Bruno managed it," said Sylvie."It's called a Phlizz.""And how do you make a Phlizz, Bruno?"
"The Professor teached me how," said Bruno.
"First oo takes a lot of air--"
"Oh, Bruno!" Sylvie interposed."The Professor said you weren't to tell!"But who did her voice?" I asked.
"Indeed it's troubling you too much, Sir! She can walk very well on the flat."Bruno laughed merrily as I turned hastily from side to side, looking in all directions for the speaker."That were me!" he gleefully proclaimed, in his own voice.
"She can indeed walk very well on the flat," I said."And I think Iwas the Flat."
By this time we were near the Hall."This is where my friends live,"I said."Will you come in and have some tea with them?"Bruno gave a little jump of joy: and Sylvie said "Yes, please.
You'd like some tea, Bruno, wouldn't you? He hasn't tasted tea,"she explained to me, "since we left Outland.""And that weren't good tea!" said Bruno."It were so welly weak!"
