The Fantastical World of Magical Beasts. Andrew LangЧитать онлайн книгу.
Too thick to go in any song;
And we attend, O good and wise,
To “days of grace” and merchandise.
‘When people’s homes are burned away
They never have a cent to pay
If they have done as all should do,
O Phoenix, and have honoured you.
‘So let us raise our voice and sing
The praises of the Phoenix King.
In classes one and two and three,
Oh, trust to him, for kind is he!’
‘I’m sure you’re very kind,’ said the Phoenix; ‘and now we must be going. And thank you very much for a very pleasant time. May you all prosper as you deserve to do, for I am sure a nicer, pleasanter-spoken lot of temple attendants I have never met, and never wish to meet. I wish you all good-day!’
It fluttered to the wrist of Robert and drew the four children from the room. The whole of the office staff followed down the wide stairs and filed into their accustomed places, and the two most important officials stood on the steps bowing till Robert had buttoned the golden bird in his Norfolk bosom, and it and he and the three other children were lost in the crowd.
The two most important gentlemen looked at each other earnestly and strangely for a moment, and then retreated to those sacred inner rooms, where they toil without ceasing for the good of the House.
And the moment they were all in their places – managers, secretaries, clerks, and porters – they all started, and each looked cautiously round to see if any one was looking at him. For each thought that he had fallen asleep for a few minutes, and had dreamed a very odd dream about the Phoenix and the board-room. And, of course, no one mentioned it to any one else, because going to sleep at your office is a thing you simply must not do.
The extraordinary confusion of the board-room, with the remains of the incense in the plates, would have shown them at once that the visit of the Phoenix had been no dream, but a radiant reality, but no one went into the board-room again that day; and next day, before the office was opened, it was all cleaned and put nice and tidy by a lady whose business asking questions was not part of. That is why Cyril read the papers in vain on the next day and the day after that; because no sensible person thinks his dreams worth putting in the paper, and no one will ever own that he has been asleep in the daytime.
The Phoenix was very pleased, but it decided to write an ode for itself. It thought the ones it had heard at its temple had been too hastily composed. Its own ode began:
‘For beauty and for modest worth
The Phoenix has not its equal on earth.’
And when the children went to bed that night it was still trying to cut down the last line to the proper length without taking out any of what it wanted to say.
That is what makes poetry so difficult.
Chapter VI.
Doing Good
‘We shan’t be able to go anywhere on the carpet for a whole week, though,’ said Robert.
‘And I’m glad of it,’ said Jane, unexpectedly.
‘Glad?’ said Cyril, ‘glad?’
It was breakfast-time, and Mother’s letter, telling them how they were all going for Christmas to their aunt’s at Lyndhurst, and how Father and Mother would meet them there, having been read by everyone, lay on the table, drinking hot bacon-fat with one corner and eating marmalade with the other.
‘Yes, glad,’ said Jane. ‘I don’t want any more things to happen just now. I feel like you do when you’ve been to three parties in a week – like we did at granny’s once – and extras in between, toys and chocs and things like that. I want everything to be just real, and no fancy things happening at all.’
‘I don’t like being obliged to keep things from Mother,’ said Anthea. ‘I don’t know why, but it makes me feel selfish and mean.’
‘If we could only get the mater to believe it, we might take her to the jolliest places,’ said Cyril, thoughtfully. ‘As it is, we’ve just got to be selfish and mean – if it is that – but I don’t feel it is.’
‘I know it isn’t, but I feel it is,’ said Anthea, ‘and that’s just as bad.’
‘It’s worse,’ said Robert; ‘if you knew it and didn’t feel it, it wouldn’t matter so much.’
‘That’s being a hardened criminal, Father says,’ put in Cyril, and he picked up Mother’s letter and wiped its corners with his handkerchief, to whose colour a trifle of bacon-fat and marmalade made but little difference.
‘We’re going tomorrow, anyhow,’ said Robert. ‘Don’t,’ he added, with a good-boy expression on his face – ‘don’t let’s be ungrateful for our blessings; don’t let’s waste the day in saying how horrid it is to keep secrets from Mother, when we all know Anthea tried all she knew to give her the secret, and she wouldn’t take it. Let’s get on the carpet and have a jolly good wish. You’ll have time enough to repent of things all next week.’
‘Yes,’ said Cyril, ‘let’s. It’s not really wrong.’
‘Well, look here,’ said Anthea. ‘You know there’s something about Christmas that makes you want to be good – however little you wish it at other times. Couldn’t we wish the carpet to take us somewhere where we should have the chance to do some good and kind action? It would be an adventure just the same,’ she pleaded.
‘I don’t mind,’ said Cyril. ‘We shan’t know where we’re going, and that’ll be exciting. No one know’s what’ll happen. We’d best put on our outers in case—’
‘We might rescue a traveller buried in the snow, like St Bernard dogs, with barrels round our necks,’ said Jane, beginning to be interested.
‘Or we might arrive just in time to witness a will being signed – more tea, please,’ said Robert – ‘and we should see the old man hide it away in the secret cupboard; and then, after long years, when the rightful heir was in despair, we should lead him to the hidden panel and—’
‘Yes,’ interrupted Anthea; ‘or we might be taken to some freezing garret in a German town, where a poor little pale, sick child—’
‘We haven’t any German money,’ interrupted Cyril, ‘so that’s no go. What I should like would be getting into the middle of a war and getting hold of secret intelligence and taking it to the general, and he would make me a lieutenant, or a scout, or a hussar.’
When breakfast was cleared away, Anthea swept the carpet, and the children sat down on it, together with the Phoenix, who had been especially invited, as a Christmas treat, to come with them and witness the good and kind action they were about to do.
Four children and one bird were ready, and the wish was wished.
Everyone closed its eyes, so as to feel the topsy-turvy swirl of the carpet’s movement as little as possible.
When the eyes were opened again the children found themselves on the carpet, and the carpet was in its proper place on the floor of their own nursery at Camden Town.
‘I say,’ said Cyril, ‘here’s a go!’
‘Do you think it’s worn out? The wishing part of it, I mean?’ Robert anxiously asked the Phoenix.
‘It’s not that,’ said the Phoenix; ‘but – well – what did you wish—?’
‘Oh!