The Brownies and Other Tales by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing


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Page 28

"'Well,' he said, 'there's a very strong feeling in the place. The toys
think that they are ill-treated, and not taken care of by children in
general. And there is some truth in it. Toys come down here by scores
that have been broken the first day. And they are all quite resolved
that if any of their old masters or mistresses come this way they shall
be punished.'

"'How will they be punished?' I inquired.

"'Exactly as they did to their toys, their toys will do to them. All is
perfectly fair and regular.'

"'I don't know that I treated mine particularly badly,' I said; 'but I
think I would rather go.'

"'I think you'd better,' said the beetle. 'Good-evening!' and I saw him
no more.

"I turned to go, but somehow I lost the road. At last, as I thought, I
found it, and had gone a few steps when I came on a detachment of
wooden soldiers, drawn up on their lazy tongs. I thought it better to
wait till they got out of the way, so I turned back, and sat down in a
corner in some alarm. As I did so, I heard a click, and the lid of a
small box covered with mottled paper burst open, and up jumped a figure
in a blue striped shirt and a rabbit-skin beard, whose eyes were
intently fixed on me. He was very like my old Jack-in-a-box. My back
began to creep, and I wildly meditated escape, frantically trying at
the same time to recall whether it were I or my brother who originated
the idea of making a small bonfire of our own one 5th of November, and
burning the old Jack-in-a-box for Guy Fawkes, till nothing was left of
him but a twirling bit of red-hot wire and a strong smell of frizzled
fur. At this moment he nodded to me and spoke.

"'Oh! that's you, is it?' he said.

"'No, it's not,' I answered hastily; for I was quite demoralized by
fear and the strangeness of the situation.

"'Who is it, then?' he inquired.

"'I'm sure I don't know,' I said; and really I was so confused that I
hardly did.

"'Well, _we_ know,' said the Jack-in-a-box, 'and that's all that's
needed. Now, my friends,' he continued, addressing the toys who had
begun to crowd round us, 'whoever recognizes a mistress and remembers a
grudge--the hour of our revenge has come. Can we any of us forget the
treatment we received at her hands? No! When we think of the ingenious
fancy, the patient skill, that went to our manufacture; that fitted the
delicate joints and springs, laid on the paint and varnish, and gave
back-hair-combs and ear-rings to our smallest dolls, we feel that we
deserved more care than we received. When we reflect upon the kind
friends who bought us with their money, and gave us away in the
benevolence of their hearts, we know that for their sakes we ought to
have been longer kept and better valued. And when we remember that the
sole object of our own existence was to give pleasure and amusement to
our possessors, we have no hesitation in believing that we deserved a
handsomer return than to have had our springs broken, our paint
dirtied, and our earthly careers so untimely shortened by wilful
mischief or fickle neglect. My friends, the prisoner is at the bar.'

"'I am not,' I said; for I was determined not to give in as long as
resistance was possible. But as I said it I became aware, to my
unutterable amazement, that I was inside the go-cart. How I got there
is to this moment a mystery to me--but there I was.

"There was a great deal of excitement about the Jack-in-a-box's speech.
It was evident that he was considered an orator, and, indeed, I have
seen counsel in a real court look wonderfully like him. Meanwhile, my
old toys appeared to be getting together. I had no idea that I had had
so many. I had really been very fond of most of them, and my heart beat
as the sight of them recalled scenes long forgotten, and took me back
to childhood and home. There were my little gardening tools, and my
slate, and there was the big doll's bedstead, that had a real mattress,
and real sheets and blankets, all marked with the letter D, and a
work-basket made in the blind school, and a shilling School of Art
paint-box, and a wooden doll we used to call the Dowager, and
innumerable other toys which I had forgotten till the sight of them
recalled them to my memory, but which have again passed from my mind.
Exactly opposite to me stood the Chinese mandarin, nodding as I had
never seen him nod since the day when I finally stopped his
performances by ill-directed efforts to discover how he did it.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Tue 1st Apr 2025, 18:39