THE ELF OF THE WOODLANDS

RETOLD FROM RICHARD HENGIST HORNE BY WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH

One morning when the summer sun was still sleeping an Elf came up from below, tickling an oak-tree’s foot, skipping like a flea, and whispering mischievously to himself.

“With little legs straddling, He dances about— Pretends to be waddling— Then leaps with a flout. Now he stops— Now he hops— Now cautiously trips On tiptoe And sliptoe He scuttles and skips; Along the grass gliding, Half dancing, half sliding.”

There was a pretty white cottage on the edge of the wood, and, with everybody quiet within, it also seemed asleep. Toward this cottage skipped the Elf.

He was a little fellow, scarce five inches tall. His body was as brown as the bark of a tree, all mixed with green streaks and tarnished gold. You could hardly see him as he went stooping along against the green leaves and the brown branches.

When he got to the sleeping cottage he climbed up the lattice, and poked his sharp little nose into every crevice. He pulled open a loose shutter, tapped once or twice on the windows, and when he found a broken pane—in he went!

In this cottage lived a girl named Toody. She was not very big, as you can believe when I tell you that all the shrubs in the garden were taller than she, and all the flowers nodded over her head. In this same house lived Toody’s cousins, Kitty, and Crocus, and Twig, and Tiny—only Tiny was a little dog, not a little boy. And here, too, lived Grandmother Grey.

“In spectacles, tucker and flower’d-chintz gown, Who always half smiled when trying to frown.”

Grandmother Grey took care of them all. At five o’clock that morning she woke up. “What noise do I hear below?” she cried. “It is daylight, but nobody is up I know.”

So Grandmother Grey threw off her skullcap and bandage, and nightcap with all its ribbons, bows and strings, and called out loudly: “Come, children, jump up quickly! There’s a rat in the dairy! Come down with me.”

Then Toody, and Crocus, and Kitty, and Twig, in their nightgowns and nightcaps, ran scrambling and laughing down stairs, with Tiny barking and tumbling about between their legs. They crept through the parlor, where all the shutters were closed but one. Like cautious Indians they went silently on, Dame Grey and the children in single file, each holding on to the one before by the tail of her nightgown.

Into the dairy they went, and stared about. Then they huddled together in fear, for behind a milk-jug, under the spout, they saw a quaint little figure.

“It was golden, and greenish, and earthy brown, With a perking nose and a pointed chin; It had very bright eyes and a funny frown, With a russet-apple’s network skin.”

They all started to run in terror, but brave Tiny sprang up and began to chase the Elf round a milkpan.

Oh, what a race was there! They ran so fast that the two small bodies were as one. They looked like the dark band on the humming-top when you spin it. And just as Tiny was about to catch him, the Elf leaped into a pan, swam across three pails of milk, climbed the wall and hid on a shelf.

“We’ve lost him; we’ve lost him!” cried all the children. But, just in time, Grandmother Grey seized her jelly-bag, swung it across the shelf, and into it was swept our little elfin friend.

“Now, children,” said she, “Go up and dress.”

The children did not know what the old dame was going to do next. She led the way into the parlor. “Tiny,” said she, “I depend on you to keep watch for us.” So Tiny stood like a soldier, with both ears cocked and his nose down bent, and watched every motion that was going on in the bag, which stood up now like a tent on the floor.

’Twas but a minute before the children were down again, all dressed. The tea-kettle was singing, and the hot rolls were on the table, and everybody was ringing the bell all at once for more eggs. But Tiny stood guard over the jelly-bag tent.

“I think the Elf is hungry and thirsty,” said Toody. So she slipped a saucer of milk under the edge of the tent, and then, laughing, she rolled in an egg. They all listened for ten minutes, and then they plainly heard the crackling of the shell.

“Away with the tea things!” said Dame Grey to Martha, the maid. “And bring me my white wicker bird-cage.”

So the bird-cage was brought, and Grandmother Grey took up the jelly-bag carefully, clapped its mouth to the open cage-door, shook it, and—pop! in went the Elf, and the cage door was made fast! Did he moan? Did he complain? Not he. With one spring and ten kicks he climbed to the pole and seated himself there, with his hands on the pole.

Toody ran close to the cage, and so did Crocus and Twig; and Kitty, a little farther off, stood staring and smiling. But the Elf was not a bit frightened. He sat swinging his little legs, with his tongue in his left cheek and his left eye looking down with a half-winking, impertinent air.

“Now,” cried Dame Grey, “tell us who you are, little Sir, and what you are. Do you know that you have spoilt all my cream, and broken my best china-cup? Speak up now! What have you to say for yourself?”

The Elf was very angry, but it would never do to show it. So he tried to look as gentle as a good child reading a book. He rubbed some of the yellow of the egg off his chin, and stuck it on his leg like a buttercup. He shrugged his shoulders up in a bunch, and then, with a sneeze as if he had caught cold in the forest, he began:

“Nine white witches sat in a circle close, With their backs against a greenwood tree, As around the dead-nettle’s summer stem Its woolly white blossoms you see. Then from hedges and ditches, these old lady-witches, Took bird-weed and rag-weed and spear-grass for me, And they wove me a bower, ’gainst the snow-storm or shower, In a dry old hollow beech tree. Twangle tee! Ri-rigdum, dingle shade-laugh, tingle dee!”

“Nonsense!” said Grandmother Grey. “You can’t fool me with your nettles, and nonsense, and hedges, and ditches. What do I care about all that? You know as well as I do that you came here to steal cake and drink cream. Besides, you have broken my best china-cup!”

The Elf gave a sigh, and looked up in the air; then took a glance at Martha’s broom, and as he looked down he thought he saw Toody winking at him. So he just smiled and said: “I declare, by the tom-tit’s folly, and the mole’s pin-hole eye, and the woodpecker’s thorny tongue, that I have told you the truth.”

Noticing that Toody was still winking at him he kept on, and told the following story:

“One day when I was loafing about in the wood I heard a strange noise in the bushes. I peeped over the edge, and there was a robin bathing in the brook. It ruffled its feathers with a spattering sound, made itself into a fussy ball, and threw up a shower of water; but what I most noticed was its eye—its eye!—”

“Its eye—its eye?” broke in all the children. “What about its eye?”

The Elf glanced again at Toody, and he saw that this time she gave him a quiet nod, as much as to say, “I’ll find you a chance.” So the Elf gave a downward squint at the closed cage-door, just for a hint. Then he scratched his cheek, jumped down on the floor of the cage, and began to act out a “robin,” just as if he were on the stage.

“Its eye—its eye? Well, just as soon as it caught a glimpse of me it bobbed—took wing—and was out of sight. Then back it came again, as if angry. It looked like an alderman lecturing the poor, but meaning really to—unlock the cage! I mean—to try to fool me. See! How high it flies. Clear up to the tip-top of the tree. Look at its large bright eye! There! There! See how it bobs—makes a quick bow, just as I am doing—points down its tail and up its nose—and off it goes!”

And out and off went the Elf!

“Run, Tiny, run! Oh, Kitty! Twig! The little rascal is gone! Run, Toody, run! Ah, I caught you; you are the one who loosened the cage-door. Run, Tiny! Oh, Kitty, Twig, and Crocus, that robin redbreast story was only meant to fool us!” Thus cried Grandmother Grey, till she was breathless.

“Off they all ran trooping, And hallooing and whooping, Beneath the low boughs stooping, Right through the wood, For Grandmama Grey, Like an old duck, led the way, When a string of ducks trudge to a flood. Then came Kitty, side by side With Toody, who oft cried; ‘Oh, Kitty dear, was ever such rare fun, fun, fun!’ And Crocus close to Twig, Both scampered in a jig, For they knew the Elf his freedom-race had won, won, won! As for him, the roguish Elf, He took good care of himself; His mites of legs they twinkled as he fled, fled, fled. He was scarcely seen, indeed, He so glistened with his speed, And his hair streamed out like silver grass behind his head.”

So Dame Grey and the children chased the Elf till they were hot and tired, and till the sun went down; and by and by they gave up, and all went home to let Martha wash their soiled hands and faces.

It was a warm and pleasant night, and before very long all the children were fast asleep.

“Within a very little nook, Toody always slept alone, Its strip of window stole a look Over the lawn and hayrick-cone.

Within the open lattice crept Some jasmine from the cottage wall, And to the breathing of her sleep, Softly swayed, with rise and fall.

But something else comes creeping in, As softly, from the starry night— The Elf!—’tis he!—first peeping in, Now like a moth doth he alight.

He trips up to the little bed, And near it hangs a full-blown rose; Then in the middle of the flower Places a light that gleams and glows.

It is a glowworm from the lea, And lighting up the rose’s heart, A fairy grot it seems to be, Where dream-thoughts live and ne’er depart.

And now the Elf once more is gone Into the woodlands wild, Leaving his blessing thus to shine Upon the sleeping child.”