“Spring following spring a pair of missel thrushes built their nest upon a branch low down, and the ring doves nested and cooed higher up. Starlings and nuthatches reared their broods in holes about the trunk; the great cedar was large enough for all. The grove was carpeted with flowers, ground ivy, forget-me-nots, blue periwinkle. Amongst the bushes grew peonies and sweet-smelling day-lilies of the old garden, along with wild flowers; cow parsley, and white stitchwort that we called ‘milk maids,’ and pink ragged-robin, and cuckoo pint that is called ‘lords and ladies’; and everywhere primroses amongst the moss.
“IN A NEST THATCHED WITH BROWN CHESTNUT LEAVES I WAS BORN.”
“There, in a nest thatched with brown chestnut leaves, I was born; I and my little dormouse sister and brother.” “What were their names, Xarifa?”But Xarifa continued – “Never, never anywhere have I seen so many flowers or listened to so many birds. Even at night when it was dark, and our mother had closed up the opening of our nest with plaited leaves and grass – even in the deep black velvety darkness came the low slow note of a bird. I do not think that the nightingale’s is actually sweeter than a blackbird’s song; but it is weird and wonderful to hear it in the black silence of the night. There are no nightingales up here in the north, Tuppenny; but there are bonny songsters never-the-less. Father Blackbird in the hawthorn bush made me think about Birds’ Place.”
“Tell me about the nest and your little dormouse brother and sister?”But Xarifa did not answer; she had fallen fast asleep, dreaming peacefully of springtime in Birds’ Place.
“Tuppenny! Tuppenny!” called Jenny Ferret, “come and help me to spread the tea things underneath the caravan; spring showers can be uncommonly wetting.” “Tuppenny,” said Pony William, munching mouthfuls of grass between his words, “Tuppenny, do not – ask Xarifa questions about her dormouse sister and brother – she suffered from a distressing want of appetite – when she first travelled with us. It is unwise – to remind her of Adolphus.” “I am sorry, no, yes, certainly,” twittered Tuppenny, “I am not to, who was Adolphus, not to talk about; how many teaspoons will I fetch for you, Mrs. Jenny Ferret?” “Only three teaspoons this time, Tuppenny; for you and me and Xarifa. Pony Billy does not use a spoon; and Paddy Pig drinks his tea without stirring; and Iky Shepster is not here, thank goodness.” “Where has he flown to, Jenny Ferret?” “Up and down, and round about; scattering handbill leaves to tell the Little Folk all about our circus show tomorrow in the morning early.”
The leaves were green leaves, veined and pencilled, like as if marked by leaf tunnelling insects; but the birds and beasts of the woods and fields know how to read them. Mice, squirrels, rabbits, and birds, as well as the larger farm animals picked up the leaves; and they knew where to look for the Circus.
CHAPTER VIII
The Pigmy Elephant
Paddy Pig was an important member of the circus company. He played several parts – the Learned Pig that could read, in spectacles; the Irish Pig that could dance a jig; and the Clown in spotty calico. And he played the Pigmy Elephant. It was done in this way. He was the right elephant colour – shiny black, and he had the proper flap ears, and small eyes. Of course, his nose was not nearly long enough and he had no tusks. So tusks were shaped from white peeled sticks out of the hedge, and a black stocking was stuffed with moss for a trunk. The tusks and trunk were fastened to a bridle, which Paddy Pig wore on his head. His own nose was inside the stocking, so he could move the sham trunk a little bit. One time when there was too much moss stuffing in the stocking, Paddy Pig started sneezing, and he sneezed so violently that he sneezed the stocking off altogether. Fortunately, this happened at Fold Farm where the audience was only calves and poultry; they knew so little about elephants that they thought it was part of the performance. Paddy’s thin legs were clothed with black calico trousers, long enough to hide his small feet, and he learned to walk with a slow swinging gait. His worst fault was forgetting to let his tail hang down.
Upon his back he carried a howdah made of a brightly coloured tin tea caddy. The lid was open; and inside upon a cushion sat the dormouse, as“Princess Xarifa.” She had a doll’s parasol, a blue dress and a crimson shawl; and a lace handkerchief across her nose, with her black beady eyes peeping over it (provided she was not asleep).
After Tuppenny joined Alexander and William’s Circus, he rode on the elephant’s neck in front of the howdah, holding on by the bridle, as Paddy Pig was slippery. Tuppenny’s get-up was gorgeous as the Sultan of Zanzibar; he wore the scarlet bandana handkerchief robe, a brass curtain-ring round his neck, a green sash with a wooden sword stuck in it, and the crystal-headed pin stuck in his turban of rolled up hair; and at gala performances his whiskers were dyed pink! No one would have recognized him for the miserable, ill-used little guinea-pig who ran away from his home in the City of Marmalade.
THE CIRCUS SHOW!
And most audiences were completely deceived by the Pigmy Elephant. It is true there was once some dissatisfaction. It was on an occasion when other pigs were present. During the first part of the programme they behaved well. They squealed with delight when Sandy stood on his head on the back of Billy the pony; and when the pony jumped through a hoop, rolled a barrel about, and went down on one knee – the four little pig’s applauded vociferously.
Pony William and Sandy went out of the ring at a canter, and disappeared under the canvas flap door of the tent. There was rather a long interval. (The fact was a brace button had come off the elephant’s trousers; and Xarifa, the dormouse, who did all the mending, was sewing it on again.)
The four little pigs began to fidget and play jinks; they tickled one another and disturbed several hens and two rabbits who were sitting in the front row. Then one of them jumped up and ran to the tent, and peeped under the flap. Sandy bit his nose.
Whether because he had seen something, or because his nose smarted, it is certain the four little pigs commenced to behave badly. The entrance of the Pigmy Elephant drew exclamations of awe from the rest of the audience; but the four little pigs sniffed, and whispered together. “I say, Mister!” said a pig to Sandy, as he stalked past, leading the elephant by a string, “I say, Mister! What’s the matter with your elephant’s tail?” Sandy ignored the question; but as soon as they were out of hearing at the opposite side of the ring, he whispered to the elephant – “Uncurl it, Paddy, you stupid! hang your tail down!” The elephant obediently allowed his tail to droop. “I say, Mr. Elephant!” said another little pig as the procession marched round a second time – “I say, Mr. Elephant! have a potato?” Now Paddy Pig would have liked to accept the potato which they offered to the toe of his stocking trunk, but he was quite unable to grasp it. “There is something funny about that elephant!” exclaimed all four little pigs; and they started shouting, “Give us back our peppercorns!” (that was their entrance money) – “Give us back our peppercorns! We don’t believe it is an elephant!” “Do be quiet behind there!” expostulated the rabbits and poultry; “Oh, how sweetly pretty! Look at the Princess’s parasol!” The Princess Xarifa in the howdah beamed down on the admiring hens.
