WYMPS.

BY EVELYN SHARP.

Little Lady Daffany had just been betrothed to the Prince, and there were great rejoicings all over the town in consequence. The people were allowed to cheer as much as they liked, and every child in the country had a whole holiday and a penny bun, and nobody had an unhappy moment from sunrise to sunset. All the Fairies were invited to a magnificent banquet in the palace that lasted five hours and a half; and the betrothed couple sat at one end of the table, and talked to one another; and the King and Queen sat at the other end, and hoped that everything would go well. The Queen fanned herself, and murmured at intervals. "The wish of my heart"; and the King grumbled to himself because he could not get enough to eat. The King had a very healthy appetite, and he always gave a banquet whenever there was the least occasion for one.

"I really don't think we have left any one out this time," said the Queen, in a satisfied tone. One of the Fairies had been left out at the Prince's christening, and the usual misfortunes had followed in consequence.

"That is because I sent out all the invitations myself," replied the King, crushingly. "These things require only a little management."

The words were hardly out of his royal mouth when a sudden darkness fell upon the room, just as though a curtain had been drawn across the sun. One ray of sun continued to shine, however, and that was the one that shone over Lady Daffany's head; and down this one something came sliding at a terrific pace, and tumbled into a dish of peaches just in front of her. The conversation stopped with a jerk, and the people in the street ceased cheering at the same moment, though they could not have told any one why they did not go on.

"I am going to faint!" the Queen was heard to exclaim; but no one was sufficiently unoccupied to attend to her. The eyes of every one were fixed on the one ray of sunlight that shone over Lady Daffany's head into the dish of peaches on the table.

"Now that's a stupid place to keep peaches," said the cause of all this disturbance; and the funniest little man imaginable clambered out of the dish of peaches and looked inquisitively down the long table. He was very small and of a misty appearance, and he was dressed from head to foot in dull yellow fog, and his face was brimful of mischief. He looked as though he had done nothing all his life but make fun of people; for he had very small eyes that twinkled, and a very large mouth that smiled, and the rest of his face was one mass of laughter wrinkles.

"So you thought you were going to leave the Wymps out, did you?" he said, sitting down comfortably on the edge of a large salt-cellar, and swinging his legs backwards and forwards. "You will say you never heard of the Wymps next, I suppose!"

That was just what every one in the room was thinking, but no one had the courage to say so.

"To be sure! to be sure! How stupid of us not to recognize you at once!" said the Queen, who had not fainted, after all.

"Most absurd! Why, the children in the schools could have told us that, eh?" added the King, glancing at the Royal Professor of Geography, who sat on his right hand.

"No doubt; no doubt. Though it does not belong to my branch of learning," said the latter, looking cheerfully at the Royal Professor of History, who was trying, for his part, not to look at anybody at all.

"Then if you know such a lot about us, how was it you didn't ask us to the banquet, eh?" shouted the little Wymp in a most disagreeable manner.

"Dear me!" said the Queen. "Is it possible you never had the letter?"

"I have no doubt," added the King, "that it was never posted."

"Or perhaps it was not properly addressed," suggested Lady Daffany, politely.

The Wymp looked from one to the other and winked; then he stood on his head and burst into a fit of laughter.

"It is no use, dearest," said the Prince, gloomily. "We have never heard of the Wymps, and we had better own it at once. I suppose that means another bad gift, and I had quite enough of that at my christening. It is enough to set one against banquets altogether. There's always some one left out. First, it's Fairies, then it's Wymps. Now, then, Mr. Wymp, just tells us where you came from, and why you are here, and get it over, will you?"

"Now that's sensible. I think I'll shake hands with you," said the Wymp, coming down on his feet again, and standing on tiptoe to grasp the Prince's hand. The Prince felt it was like shaking hands with a very damp sponge.

"Now I'll tell you what it is," continued the Wymp, climbing up a decanter, and standing with one foot on the stopper and the other tucked up like a stork's; "the Wymps have been left out of this banquet altogether, and Wymps are not people to be trifled with. Why people make such a fuss about Fairies I never can make out. Now if you'd left some of them out, it wouldn't have made any difference. They just overcrowd everything, and it's not fair."

The Fairies fluttered their wings indignantly at this, but the Fairy Queen reminded them that it was not polite to make a quarrel in somebody else's house, and the Wymp went on undisturbed.

"So I have come down from the land of the Wymps, which is at the back of the sun, just to remind you that you mustn't leave us out again. However, I see I am spoiling the fun, so I will be off again. But I may as well mention"—here he looked straight at the Prince and burst out laughing again—"that in future you will always tell people what you think of them. Ha! ha! ha! that is the Wymps' gift to you. Good-by!"

And away he sped up the sunbeam again, and the curtain fell away from the sun, and the people in the street went on cheering just where they had left off, and the conversation broke out again at the very place it had been interrupted, and no one would have thought that anything had happened at all. But the Prince heard nothing but the Wymp's mocking laughter, and he sat silent for the rest of the day.

"Are you ill, dear Prince?" asked the Queen.

"Of course not! You are a tiresome old fidget," said the Prince, crossly. Now the Prince was noted for his excellent manners; he was even known to speak politely to his horse and his spaniel; so when the courtiers heard his reply to the Queen, they began to whisper among themselves, and the guests made ready to depart.

"It is the heat; you must really excuse him," said the King, getting up from the table with a sigh.

"What nonsense!" said the Prince. "It is not hot at all. It is your fault for having such a stupid long banquet."

"We have enjoyed ourselves so much," said the guests, as they filed past him.

"Oh no, you haven't," retorted the Prince; "you have been thoroughly bored the whole time, and so have I."

"It is the Wymps' gift," whispered the courtiers.

Two large unshed tears stood in Lady Daffany's eyes when she bade the Prince good-night.

"Do you think I have been bored the whole evening?" she asked him, softly.

"No, dearest," said the Prince, kissing her white fingers; "for you have been with me all the time."

And that, of course, was the truth, so she went away happy.

The days rolled on, and everybody began to wonder at the change in the Prince. He had always been considered the most charming Prince in the world, but now he had suddenly become one of the most unpleasant. He told people of their faults whenever they were introduced to him, and although he was generally right, they did not like it at all. He said the Royal Professor of Geography was a bore, and although no one in the kingdom could deny it, the Royal Professor of Geography naturally felt annoyed. At the state ball he told the King he could not dance a bit, and though the King's partners certainly thought so too, that did not make it any better. But when he told the Queen, in the presence of the Royal Professor of History, that her hair was turning gray under her crown, the Queen said it was quite time something was done.

"The dear fellow cannot be right in his head," she said; "he must have a doctor."

So the Royal Physician was sent for, and he came in his coach-and-four and looked at the Prince; and he coughed a good deal, and said he must certainly have a change of air.

"The Royal Physician always knows," said the Queen.

"But what is the matter with me?" asked the Prince.

"That," said the Royal Physician, coughing again, "is too deep a matter for me to go into just now. In fact—"

"In fact, you don't know a bit, do you?" said the Prince; and he burst out laughing just as unpleasantly as the Wymp had done when he stood on his head.

So the Royal Physician drove away again in his coach-and-four, and the Prince went on telling people exactly what he thought of them. The only person to whom he was not rude was the little Lady Daffany, for he thought nothing but nice things about her, and therefore he had nothing but nice things to say to her. But for all that, she was most unhappy, for she could not bear hearing that other people disliked the Prince; and all the people were beginning to dislike him very much indeed. So one day she slipped out of her father's house quite early in the morning, and went into the wood at the end of the garden. Now she was so kind to all the animals and flowers, that the Fairies had given her the power of understanding their language; so she went straight to her favorite squirrel, who lived in a beech-tree in the middle of the wood, and she told him all about the Prince and the Wymps' gift. The squirrel stopped eating nuts, and ran after his tail for a few moments without speaking. Then he winked his eye at her very knowingly, and nodded his smart little head several times, and spoke at last in a tone of great wisdom.

"You must go to the Wymps and intercede for the Prince," he said, and cracked another nut.

"But would they listen to me?" asked Lady Daffany, doubtfully.

"Go and try," said the squirrel. "The Wymps are not bad little fellows, really. They like making fun of people, that's all; and they saw the Prince was a bit of a prig, so they thought they would give him a lesson, don't you see?"

"Perhaps they will think I am a prig too," said Lady Daffany, sadly.

"My dear little lady," laughed the squirrel, "the Wymps never make fun of people like you. Just you go and find the biggest sunbeam you can, and climb up it until you come to the land of the Wymps at the back of the sun. Only you must go with bare feet and with nothing on your head. Now be off with you; I want to finish my breakfast."

The biggest sunbeam she could find was the one that came in at the library window and sent her father, the Count, to sleep over the state documents. And there she took off her little red shoes and stockings, and pulled the golden pins out of her hair, and let it fall loosely round her shoulders, and she began to climb slowly up the ray of sunlight. At first it was very hard work, for it was very slippery, and she was frightened of falling off; but she thought of the Prince, and went on as bravely as she could. And then it seemed as though invisible hands came and helped her upwards, for after that it was quite easy, and she glided up higher and higher and higher until she came to the sun itself—the big round sun. And she went straight through the sun, just as though it were a paper hoop at the circus, and she tumbled out on the other side into a land of yellow fog. There was no sunshine there, and no moon, and no stars, and no daylight—nothing but a dull red glow over everything, like the light of a lamp.

"Why," said Lady Daffany, feeling her clothes to see if they were singed, "I always thought the sun was hot!"

"I have no doubt you did; it is quite absurd what mistakes are made about the sun," said a familiar voice, and, looking round, she saw the identical Wymp who had come to disturb the betrothal banquet.

"Hullo! I've been expecting you," he said, as he recognized her. "Why didn't you come before?"

"Because you didn't send me an invitation," said Lady Daffany, merrily; and she made him a court bow. Now it is true that the Wymps spend their lives in laughing at other people, but they are not accustomed to being laughed at themselves; so when Lady Daffany continued to be amused at her own joke the Wymp drew himself up very stiffly and looked offended.

"I don't see anything whatever to laugh at," he said, severely, "and you had better come along and explain to the King why you've come."

Then he led her through the dimly lighted land of yellow fog, and they passed crowds of other little Wymps who were all so like himself that it was difficult to tell one from another; for they were all dull yellow and misty in appearance, and they all had small eyes and large mouths, and their faces were all covered with laughter wrinkles. They seemed to be spending their time in turning somersaults and tumbling over one another, and laughing loudly at nothing at all. But the Wymp who was with Lady Daffany did not laugh once; he just trotted along in front of her and did not speak a word, so that she really was afraid she had hurt his feelings, and she began to feel sorry.

"Please, Mr. Wymp, I didn't mean to laugh at you at all," she said, very humbly.

"That's all very well," said the Wymp, sulkily, "but no Wymp ever allows any one else to make a joke. Come along to the King."

"But it wasn't a joke!" cried Lady Daffany.

"Oh, well, if it wasn't a joke, that's another matter. Not that I should have called it a joke myself, but I thought you meant it for one," said the Wymp, more cheerfully. "Now why have you come up here at all?"

She hastened to tell him about the Prince, and how much he had been changed by the Wymps' gift, and how she wanted to intercede for him; and her voice grew so sad as she thought about it all that the Wymp had to turn round and shout at her.

"Don't get gloomy," he cried, turning several somersaults in his agitation. "Nobody is ever gloomy in the land of the Wymps. Make another bad joke if you like, but stop being dreary—do."

At this moment they suddenly came upon the Wymp King, who was sitting asleep on his throne all by himself. He was just like the other Wymps, except that he looked too lazy to turn somersaults, and he had no laughter wrinkles at all.

"Is that the King? He doesn't look much like a King," whispered Lady Daffany.

"He hasn't got to look like a King," said the Wymp. "We choose our Kings because they are harmless, and don't want to make jokes, and will keep out of the way. We once had a King who looked like a King—we used to live in the sun then—but he did so much mischief that the sun people turned us out, and we have had to live at the back of the sun ever since."

Lady Daffany felt glad that the kind of King she was accustomed to did look like a King, but she had no time to say so, for just then the Wymp jumped on the throne and woke up the King by shouting in his ear.

"Does any one want anything?" asked the Wymp King, waking up with a jerk, and putting on his crown and his spectacles.

Lady Daffany dropped on her knees in front of the throne and tried not to feel frightened.

"Please, your Majesty—" she began, timidly.

"Who is she talking to?" cried the Wymp King. He had a very gruff voice, through living in a yellow fog all his life; and he spoke so loudly that he completely drowned the rest of her speech.

"Say what you want, and don't give him any titles; he's not used to them," whispered the Wymp.

"Why, I don't believe he is a King at all," said Lady Daffany, standing up again.

"Who says I'm not a King at all?" shouted the Wymp King, angrily.

"If you make any more of your bad jokes, I won't try to help you at all," said the Wymp. "Why don't you say what you want at once?"

So Lady Daffany set to work and told the whole of her story, and begged the Wymp King to take back his fatal gift so that the Prince should no longer tell people what he thought about them until they all came to dislike him.

When she had finished, the King gave a great yawn and took off his crown.

"Doesn't he tell them the truth then?" he asked, sleepily.

"Yes, I—I suppose so," she answered, doubtfully.

"Then why should they mind?" said the Wymp King.

Lady Daffany shook her head. "They do mind," she said.

"Then it's very stupid of them," said the Wymp King, very drowsily. "However, if that's all, the gift can be passed on to you instead. Now go away; I am going to sleep again."

He was already sound asleep, and not another word could be got out of him. Lady Daffany tried not to cry, and turned away.

"I suppose every one will dislike me now," she said, sorrowfully; "but of course that is better than their disliking the Prince."

"Nonsense," said the Wymp, as he led her to the back of the sun; "that would be too good a joke for the King to make. You wait and see. Good-by."

And away she went through the sun again, and came out on the bright side once more, for the sunbeam had moved on since the morning, and then she ran in-doors to find her shoes.

"That's all right," said the Count, putting away the state documents with a great show of relief; "you're just in time for tea. Where have you been all day?"

"I've been for a walk, at least a fly—no, I mean a ride," stammered Lady Daffany. "I'm not quite sure which it was."

"Never mind," chuckled the Count; "I expect you were with the Prince, and didn't notice, eh? Then of course you have heard the wonderful news of the Prince's recovery."

"Then the Wymp did speak the truth!" cried Lady Daffany, clapping her hands for joy.

"What Wymp?" asked the Count. "This has nothing to do with the Wymps. It was a strange physician who came from a far land, and he touched the Prince's tongue, and made him every bit as polite as he used to be. So you can be married at last, and the Prince can go into society again."

"A strange physician?" said his daughter. "I wonder where he has gone now?"

"That's just it," said the Count, pouring out his sixth cup of tea; "he didn't go anywhere. He turned three somersaults down the palace steps, and when they ran to pick him up there wasn't anybody to pick up."

"Then it must have been a Wymp," thought Lady Daffany, and she wandered out into the garden to think it all over.

"I wonder if I have really got the Wymps' gift instead of the Prince," she said to herself. Just then the Prince himself came through the bushes to find her. He no longer looked grave and unhappy, and there was a radiant look on his face.

"Don't you think I have been a very disagreeable Prince lately?" he whispered, as he stooped to kiss her.

"I think you are the dearest Prince in all the world," she answered, softly.

"All the same, the Royal Professor of Geography is an old bore, isn't he?" said the Prince.

"Oh no, I don't think so. He is only clever," answered Lady Daffany.

"But the Queen-Mother's hair is turning gray. Haven't you noticed it?" persisted the Prince.

"I really think you are mistaken, dearest," said Lady Daffany.

And she never found out whether she really had the Wymps' gift or not. But the Prince and the people loved her to the end of her days.