Knock Three Times!

“Rather not,” said Jack.

“Oh, Glan, you will be careful, won’t you?—and not get caught by the Pumpkin?” added Molly anxiously.

“Of course, little lady,” Glan replied. “You should see me run if I want to. I’ll not get caught.” He was still studying and comparing the maps. “Why, look here!” he exclaimed, “you’ve got the Orange Wood in your bit. Well, I never! D’you hear that, Aunt Janet? The Orange Wood.... We’ve got a relative who lives in that wood. I must give you his name.” Glan scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to the children. “Any of the people in the village near by will direct you to his house—they all know him. Papingay’s his name—I’ve written it down, you see. He’ll be delighted to see you—tell him you know us, Aunt Janet and Father and me. But don’t be surprised at his funny little ways—he’s a queer old soul—a very queer old soul.” Glan chuckled to himself at some recollection.

“He’s a kind of cousin of Glan’s father, dearies,” observed Aunt Janet.

The children were glad to hear of this one person, at any rate, whom they might trust in the strange, unknown country before them.

“Be sure to humour him, though,” added Glan. “He’s worth it. Don’t forget.”

While they had been talking they had been passing through many quaint streets on their way to the East Gate: streets that on an ordinary occasion would have made Jack and Molly long to stop and explore them slowly, there were so many tempting and curious things to be seen. But there was no time for loitering now. There was serious work to be done. So they hastened along until at length the East Gate was reached.

Here Glan produced two neat little boxes of sandwiches and cakes, giving one of them to Jack and one to Molly. “A snack for lunch,” he said.

“You’re sure to find plenty of friends as you go along,” said Aunt Janet. “But do take care of yourselves, dearies. Good luck be with you.” And she fumbled for her pocket-handkerchief and dabbed her eyes rapidly, while Glan patted her on the shoulder.

“Here’s to our next meeting,” he cried cheerily, “and may it be soon. Who’s going to light the first beacon, little lady, you or I?”

“Neither,” said Jack, laughing. “I am.”

“That’s the sort,” cried Glan, patting Aunt Janet vigorously, as he beamed at Jack.

The keeper of the East Gate had by this time appeared and was cautiously opening the gate. Finding the way clear he opened it wide.

“Laugh at misfortune,” Glan shouted gaily, as Jack and Molly passed out on to the High Road. “Keep up a good heart, and—tss—remember—we shall win. Good luck! Good luck!” They saw him wave his white cap in the air; there was a flutter of brown-gloved hands, then the gate closed.

CHAPTER X
Some One Meets Jack and Molly in the Third Green Lane

“Oh, yes, I saw him,” said Molly. “And that boy with him in that curious red-brown suit. I wonder which part they are searching. Supposing they are the lucky people who are going to find the Black Leaf ... if we only knew,” sighed the little girl, standing in the middle of the white road and gazing pensively at the two figures in the distance.

“I know one thing,” said Jack. “We shan’t be the lucky people if we don’t move along. Come on, Molly.”

Two minutes’ brisk walking brought them to the entrance to the First Green Lane. And here their search began. The lane was a very twisty one, and was closed in on either side with high thick hedges; fresh and green the hedges were, and starred with tiny white flowers that smelled very sweet.

“How strange that it isn’t autumn here, like it was at home,” said Jack. “It’s more like summer here, isn’t it, Molly?”

“It isn’t really strange,” said Molly. “Everything is so different here, isn’t it? I don’t see why the seasons in the Possible World should be like ours any more than anything else is like ours.”

“No. P’r’aps you’re right,” agreed Jack.

They went carefully along, searching thoroughly as they went, Molly taking the left-hand side of the lane and Jack the right. For the most part it was fairly easy work; there were not many places in the First Green Lane where the Black Leaf could grow undetected, though from time to time an extra thick and low-spreading bush would necessitate a halt for a thoroughly satisfactory examination.

“There is one thing that seems strange to me,” Molly went on presently. “And that is the way the ordinary and the magic things seem to all get mixed up together. I’m sure I shall be forgetting, when we get home again, and keep expecting spells and magic things to happen.”

“So shall I,” said Jack; and then, as Molly began to laugh—“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Oh, Jack,” she laughed. “What would Aunt Phœbe say if she could see us now!”

“‘I’m sure I don’t know what the world’s coming to,’” mimicked Jack, in an Aunt Phœbe voice, and then joined in Molly’s laughter. “And the best of it is,” he chuckled, “it’s all through her giving you that birthday present. She would be wild.”

“I suppose we really ought not to laugh at her,” laughed Molly. “It’s hardly respectful—but, somehow, I can’t just help it.”

They continued to search, chatting and laughing, in a light-hearted, excited mood, and soon they had covered the best part of the First Green Lane. As they neared the end—a break in the hedge (on Jack’s side) blocked by a white gate revealed a big field which lay behind the hedge.

“Hullo,” said Jack. “Have we got to search this field, too, I wonder. Where’s the map?”

Molly had it in her pocket, and produced it at once. Leaning against the gate the two children studied it carefully.

“Yes. See. Here it is ... marked here,” said Molly. “The hedge on the left-hand side—the side I was searching—is the boundary; but the field this side is marked in our square.”

“I tell you what then,” suggested Jack. “I’ll start on the field while you finish to the end of the lane—it’s only a few yards more. Then you come back and start the other end of the field.”

Molly agreed, so they separated for a few minutes and continued the search. But there was no sign of the Black Leaf anywhere in the big field or in the First Green Lane, and at length they started on the Second Green Lane.

The Second Green Lane had low hedges and many ferns and wild flowers growing by the way, and a ditch running along one side of it, which made the searching a little more difficult. There were also several gates leading from this lane into fields which had to be searched too. Some of the fields where the grass was long took a good time to do properly. But the two children stuck to it perseveringly, urged on by the hope that perhaps just round the corner, or behind the next tree, or even, perhaps, a few feet ahead of them among the long grass, grew that which they sought—the Black Leaf. But so far they had searched in vain.

In the early afternoon they found themselves at the beginning of the Third Green Lane; and here they decided to stop and have a short rest and some lunch. When they sat down on the soft grass by the side of the lane they suddenly discovered that they were really tired; and when they saw the tempting little sandwiches and cakes in the “snack for lunch” packets Glan had given them they realized that they were really hungry. They had been too busy and excited to realize these things before. Over lunch they got out the map again and studied it.

“What a lonely piece of country this seems,” Jack remarked. “Do you know, we haven’t seen a single person since we started searching!”

“Nor a single house,” said Molly. “It’s a good thing we have this map with us. How useful it is.... Let me look, Jack. Are there any houses or villages marked near here, because we shall have to find some place to stay to-night if possible.”

“There seems to be some sort of village marked there ... um ... it’s not very near, though,” said Jack. “It’s the other side of the Goblin’s Heath.... There doesn’t seem to be a house of any sort marked between here and that village, does there? Still, I daresay we could reach the village before dusk, if we are not delayed at all——”

“And if the Heath isn’t too big——”

“If it is and we can’t find a cottage before the end of the Heath, we’ll climb up a tree, Moll. It’ll be great sport. And we shall be quite safe there till daylight.”

They packed up the remains of the lunch, for it was a very generous “snack” that Glan had put in for each of them, and after resting a few minutes longer they rose to their feet and prepared to start on again.

“My word, I am thirsty,” said Jack. At Molly’s advice he tried one of the little sweet things in Old Nancy’s packet, and though it was certainly refreshing Jack still craved for a drink of water. “Is there a stream of water marked anywhere near here. Give me the map again, Molly.”

They were standing at the beginning of the Third Green Lane with the map in their hands, when the sound of some one singing came to them from a distance.

Jack and Molly looked at each other. This was the first human sound they had heard since they left the High Road. Perhaps this person, whoever it was, could tell them where they could get some water. The singer was evidently approaching, as the song grew louder and clearer, from the direction of the lane which they were just about to search. Then, just as they expected the singer to come round the corner of the lane—the singing ceased abruptly—and no one appeared.

Jack and Molly waited a while, then started off down the lane in the direction whence the singing had come, thinking perhaps that the singer had stopped to rest round the corner of the lane. They were right. As they turned the corner they saw someone sitting under a tree at the side of the lane. It was a young girl, a little older than Jack and Molly—such a pretty girl, with grey-green eyes and a straight, white nose, and deep golden hair that curled about her shoulders. Her soft green frock matched the colour of her eyes.

She did not notice Jack and Molly at first, as her attention was taken up by the contents of a small wicker basket in her lap: she was peering inside it anxiously, and counting aloud.

“Eight, nine, ten,” they heard her say. “Eleven.... Oh, dear, I’ve lost ... no, here it is ... twelve. Oh, that’s right!”

She looked up, and saw the children. She gazed up at them, then smiled (such a friendly, sweet smile, Molly thought).

“Oh, I ... I didn’t hear you come along,” she said.

“We heard you singing,” said Molly.

The girl blushed. “I didn’t know anyone was near,” she said. “I often sing when I’m by myself—it’s so lonely, as a rule.” She fastened the lid of her basket down.

“We were awfully glad to hear you,” said Jack. “Because, do you know, we haven’t met a soul since we left the East Gate.”

“Have you come from the City, then?” asked the girl with much interest, rising to her feet. “Oh, you can’t imagine how lonely it is to live out here. What news is there? What does the City look like now? Oh, I’d give anything to live in the City with crowds of people and lights and shops and—and real pavement.”

“Haven’t you got any pavement then in the village where you live?” asked Jack.

“I don’t live in a village,” answered the girl. “Its right out here in all this lonely part that mother and I live.”

“Near here?” asked Molly.

“Yes. Just at the end of the Third Green Lane,” said the girl.

“In a house?” inquired Jack.

“Yes. Why not?” the girl smiled. “What did you think we’d live in?”

“I meant,” said Jack, “it’s not marked on our map; there’s no house marked until you get to the other side of the Goblin’s Heath, and I didn’t think there was one so close.”

The girl began to laugh. “Well, there is one, even if it isn’t marked on your map. They don’t mark all the houses, you know. If your way takes you along down this lane you’ll pass the house, and mother would be awfully pleased to see you if you could spare a little while. She rarely gets news of the City or sees anybody.”

“We were going along this way,” said Jack. “And we were just wondering if there was anywhere we could get a drink of water, because we’re both so thirsty....”

“Thirsty?” said the girl. “Why, here is the very thing!” And she opened her basket and took out a beautiful bunch of grapes. “I had been sent out to gather these from our vine—twelve bunches I’ve gathered. Do have one.” She placed a delicious-looking bunch in Jack’s hands.

“Oh, no—really. I say, can you spare them, though?” protested Jack. “And wouldn’t your mother mind?”

“She’d mind if I didn’t give you a bunch when you were so thirsty,” said the girl, and insisted on Molly having a bunch too.

“Well, it really is awfully kind of you,” said Jack, and Molly thanked her also.

Molly hesitated just a second before eating her grapes, wondering if they were doing right in accepting them from the little girl whose name even they didn’t know. But a glance at the little girl’s sweet, frank face reassured any doubts Molly may have had. Jack had already started his bunch. So Molly ate her grapes too.

“You know,” said Jack, “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted such jolly fine grapes. I was terribly thirsty after searching all the morning.”

“Searching?” asked the girl, puzzled. “Did you say searching? What have you lost?”

“It isn’t what we’ve lost—it’s what we can’t find,” said Jack. “You know—it’s what they’re all looking for.”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“Don’t you know about the search for the Black Leaf?” asked Jack in surprise. “Oh, I say. And about the Pumpkin being back again—of course, you know that?”

“What!” screamed the girl. “The Pumpkin back? No! No! I didn’t know that. We hear nothing—living out here alone.... But, oh dear, oh dear! Whatever are we going to do?” She was trembling and seemed very upset. “I must get home at once and tell mother—poor mother,” she added. She fastened the lid of her basket with shaking fingers. “Are you coming along this way now?”

“Well, I do think it’s plucky of you. To search like this—in a strange land. I—I feel quite ashamed of myself for being so scared just now. We all have to take our chance. Do let me help you search this bit of lane. And afterward, I’ll go to the City and ask to be given a part to search too. How far do you intend to search to-day?”

“We thought of trying to get as far as the other side of the Goblin’s Heath,” said Jack.

“Oh, you’ll never be able to do that before nightfall!” the girl exclaimed. “It’s a very big Heath. I wonder—would you care to stay at our house to-night? Mother and I would be only too proud to have you, if you’d care....”

“It’s very good of you,” said Molly. “Perhaps——”

“Well, wait until you see mother, if you’d prefer that,” said the girl. “Wait until you see our house. I know I shouldn’t care to promise to stay with anyone until I’d seen where they lived. In a strange country too.”

She had added this, seeing that Jack and Molly hesitated. But they were more than half-persuaded, because she spoke so reasonably and frankly.

They continued to search the Third Green Lane thoroughly; the afternoon wore on, and the shadows of eventide began to fall.

Presently the girl said, “We are near the end of the lane now. Round the next turning you will see my house.”

So far the search had been in vain, and Jack and Molly were beginning to feel very tired, as the lane had been long and difficult.

“We must have been two hours searching this lane,” said Molly. “Will your mother be getting anxious about you?”

The girl shook her head. “And she won’t even be cross when she sees that I’ve brought visitors home with me. You will come in, won’t you?” she asked, “and we can all have tea together.”

It sounded so tempting that the children accepted gladly, especially as the house hove in sight at that moment. Turning the corner they came suddenly upon it. Such a quaint, cosy little house, which lay snuggled away behind a cluster of thick bushes and trees. The lane continued for only a short distance beyond the house, then it opened out into a great wide heath—the Goblin’s Heath. The children hadn’t time to take in much of the scenery, as their companion ushered them into the garden of her house quickly. It was darker in the garden under the trees than out in the roadway, and they saw that a little light was glimmering from one of the windows of the house, which made it look very homely and comfortable. Jack and Molly followed their companion up the path to the front door.

The girl tapped twice on the front door, then, rattling the handle and calling out, “Here we are, mother!” she threw open the door and the three of them passed in.

They found themselves in a dark, narrow passage, at the end of which they could see a glow as from firelight. Their companion closed the front door and led the way along the passage.

“Here we are, mother!” she called again, and a figure appeared in the firelit opening at the end of the passage, and stood there chuckling softly.

Suddenly, Jack and Molly were afraid.

“Jack, I’m going back!” gasped Molly, and turning, both the children made for the door. But it was shut fast, and there were no handles or bolts to be found.

The girl and the figure in the firelight burst into loud laughter.

“You little sillies!” a voice cried, accompanied by another burst of laughter.

They could see the girl in green quite plainly now. She had reached the end of the passage and stood whispering to the other person. The firelight shone on both of them. The girl in green was strangely altered. No longer fresh and young and pretty—her face looked old and hard and scornful. Jack and Molly caught a few of the words she was whispering.

“Oh, Jack,” Molly sobbed. “They’re the Pumpkin’s friends. We’re trapped!”

CHAPTER XI
Trapped

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said the girl. “You’ve got to obey now—so you might just as well come—unless you’d like me to fetch you both?”

“Heh! Heh!” laughed the figure behind her. “I’d like to see you fetch them—that I would!”

The laughter and the nameless threat underlying the words gave the children a creepy sensation all up and down their spines.

“Oh, let’s go before she fetches us,” cried Molly, and went forward, dragging Jack by the hand.

“That’s sense,” said the girl, and made room for them to pass out of the passage into the firelight.

They found themselves in a round, cave-like room, which was lit up by the dancing flames of a log fire. Afterward Jack and Molly could not remember seeing any furniture in the room—nothing but the fire and a stone-arched fireplace. They could not recall seeing any windows, but they remembered the floor, which was made of cobbles, because it was hard to walk on. The room appeared to have no ceiling, or else a very high one, at any rate no ceiling was visible; overhead all was drifting smoke and black gloom, like the entrance to a railway tunnel.

“Let’s have a look at the pretty dears,” said the figure beside the girl, moving forward, and Jack and Molly stood face to face with the ugliest old woman they had ever seen, in fact, had ever even imagined. Her clay-coloured face was a mass of deep wrinkles; her narrow, sunken eyes looked like two restless black beads, darting from side to side, as if to escape from the two slits of eyelids which imprisoned them. Her nose and chin curved towards each other, after the fashion of nut-crackers, and her otherwise toothless mouth had one long yellow fang always visible. A bright crimson scarf was wound round her head, like a turban, from which long wisps of jet black hair escaped and hung about her face.

As the children looked at her, she did a terrifying thing (which they quickly discovered was a constant habit of hers). The old woman’s restless beady eyes became suddenly still, and she fixed upon the children in turn a piercing stare, gradually opening her eyes wider and wider and wider until they became two big round black balls encircled by saucers of white—great, staring, still eyes ... then suddenly the lids snapped over them, and they were once more little darting black beads.

“Heh! Heh! Heh!” laughed the old woman. “What a surprise for yer, duckies, wasn’t it, now?” And she thrust her face close to the children and leered unpleasantly. “Stoopid little baggages!” she added. “Far for better you’d stopped at home—meddlin’ in what don’t concern you. But we’ll soon learn you to come a-meddlin’.” She turned to the girl behind her. “All right,” she said in an undertone. “I’d know ’em again. I’ve had a good look. When’s he coming?”

“In about an hour, I expect,” answered the girl. Then she dropped her voice and started whispering again.

The two children gazed into each other’s frightened white faces, and a little sob escaped from Molly.

“Eh?” said the old woman. “What you say, ducky?... Nothing?... All right. Come along then, my pretties, come along and wait in the drorin’-room. His Excellency the Grey Pumpkin is not at home just at present, but he won’t be long; oh, dear no, he won’t be long. Step this way in the drorin’-room. He’ll be pleased to see yer. Heh! Heh!”

Molly glanced despairingly at the girl in green, the girl who had been so friendly a short time before when they were outside in the lane. Molly held out her hands appealingly—but the girl only laughed.

“Oh have you no pity?” cried Molly. “Do, do let us go. He’ll never know—the Pumpkin need never know. And—and if there is anything we can do for you, I’m sure my brother and I will be only too pleased....”

“Would you even give up the search—and go straight back home?” asked the girl sharply.

Here, then, was their chance of escape. If they would promise—Molly looked at Jack. What would the Pumpkin do to Jack—to her—when he came? She shuddered. Then she thought of Old Nancy, and the King, and Glan, and she knew that what the girl asked of them was impossible. She and Jack exchanged glances again. They had decided. They would take their chance.

“Would you promise?” asked the girl.

“No,” answered Jack and Molly together.

“Hurry up and push them in, then, mother.” The girl turned away, dismissing the subject immediately.

The old woman, chuckling to herself, opened a door in the wall (which the children had not noticed before) and told them to follow her to the “drorin’-room” unless they wanted to be “fetched” there. So they followed her.

It was pitch dark on the other side of the door, and the old woman called out to the girl in green to hold a light for them, which she did, standing in the doorway holding a flickering taper above her head. Jack and Molly followed the old woman along a short passage, down a flight of stone steps to a door at the bottom. She took a key from her pocket, and calling to the girl in green again, telling her to hold the light at the top of the steps, she fumbled at the lock, opened the door, and then, without more ado, she pushed Jack and Molly inside, and slammed the door on them. They heard her lock the door, then go shuffling up the steps, grumbling to herself. Then another door banged—and all was silent.

Jack and Molly were in absolute darkness, and could not see an inch in front of them. They dared not move, but stood still clinging hold of each other.

“Oh, Jack, why did we trust her?” sobbed Molly.

“How were we to know ... she seemed so decent ... the sneak!” said Jack. “Oh, can’t we do anything, Molly?”

It was dreadful, just standing in the dark—waiting. They talked in low tones to each other for a while, wondering how long it would be before the Pumpkin arrived. Neither of them dared to speak of what he might do when he came. If—if anything happened to them, would any one miss them, and come in search of them——

And then Molly remembered.

“Jack!” she cried. “The matches! Old Nancy’s matches!”

“Why ever didn’t we think of them before?” exclaimed Jack.

Now was the time to use them, undoubtedly; for if ever there was a dark place where some light was needed.... Jack and Molly were fumbling eagerly in their satchels.

“Be careful, Jack,” said Molly. “Don’t drop any. Have you got yours yet? I have. Now I’ll strike one—and see what happens.”

Jack was still searching his satchel for his box of matches. Meanwhile Molly took a match out of her box and struck it.

The children were not quite sure what they had expected to happen, but they felt vaguely disappointed to see just an ordinary little flare of light spring out of the darkness. Just an ordinary little flickering match. Anyway, they could now see what sort of a place they were shut up in. It was a kind of underground cellar, small and square and high roofed, and except for a few old boxes in one corner, empty. The walls were damp and mouldy, the floor broken and uneven, and the place seemed full of cobwebs.

And then they realized that it was not quite an ordinary match. It burnt longer, and, strange to say, the rays from it were concentrating all in one direction—like a long thin streak of light—pointing. Jack and Molly quickly sensed this. But what was the light pointing at? The flame was directed straight toward the boxes in the corner.

The children crossed the cellar and examined the boxes. They looked like wooden sugar boxes; there were three of them; and they were all empty. Jack pulled them away from the wall, but there was nothing behind them.

Then Molly’s match flickered—and went out.

“Here, I’ll light one,” said Jack. “I’ve got mine now.”

So Jack lit one. Just the usual match flare at first, but as soon as it burned up the light gathered together all on one side of the match as it were, a long streak pointing in the exactly opposite direction to where the boxes were, right over on the other side of the cellar. For a moment Jack doubted, wondering whether it was a sort of joke on him. But he and Molly followed the light quickly, and saw that it was concentrated on a spot, high up on the wall, near the roof.

“Look! quick!” said Molly. “There’s an iron ring or handle or something up there.”

“But how can we reach it?” began Jack.

And then they remembered what the first match had shown them, and hastily dragging the boxes across the floor, piled them one on top of the other underneath the ring in the wall. Then Jack’s match went out.

Both children were now tremendously excited; and fearful lest the Pumpkin should come before they had finished their investigations, they moved as rapidly as possible. Molly lit the next match, while Jack clambered up to the top of the boxes. Her light pointed straight at the iron ring.

“It’s a ring all right!” cried Jack. “But, oh, Moll, I can’t quite reach it! Whatever shall we do?”

As the match pointed steadily at the ring, and offered no further suggestions, Molly climbed up to the top of the boxes too. Jack’s remark was only too true; the ring was just out of reach, try as they would to touch it.

“I believe I could reach it if you could lift me up, Jack,” said Molly.

“Right-o!” said Jack. And then Molly’s match went out.

As it would be too difficult to hold a match while trying to reach the ring, and as Molly said she remembered just where the ring was on the wall, it was decided to pull the ring if possible, and then light a match, and see what had happened.

So Jack lifted Molly up, and after groping about on the wall with her hands for a few seconds, she caught hold of the ring.

“I’ve got it! Keep steady, Jack!” she cried, joyfully, and gave a vigorous tug at the iron ring. “Something’s given way—it feels as if a sort of door’s opened. All right, put me down now, Jack, and strike a match.”

Jack followed her directions, and by the light of the match they saw that a small square door had opened in the wall above their heads. The light from the match pointed straight through the opening. It looked like a narrow, dark tunnel beyond. Jack put his match down on the top of the boxes to see if it would give them sufficient light from there, but directly it left his hand it went out, so they decided to try to get into the tunnel before they lit up again, as it was too difficult to hold matches while scrambling through the little black opening. Jack hoisted Molly up first, and she managed to get through the door, and then she turned and reached down her hand to pull Jack up. It was rather an ordeal, doing all this in the dark, but at length it was safely accomplished and they were both inside the tunnel. Once through the door, although rather cramped, they found there was sufficient room to stand up, if they bent their heads.

They did not stop to close the door behind them, but, lighting another match, they scurried along the tunnel as fast as ever they could. The tunnel twisted and turned a good deal, and then began to slope gradually upward. Two more matches they were obliged to light before they came at length to a standstill where the tunnel branched out in two directions. The light pointed steadily to the left, so they followed it. Another minute’s rapid walking, and they felt a rush of cool air, and when their match spluttered and went out, they could see that the inky darkness was thinning a little way ahead, and so they did not light another match, but hastened onward toward a glimmer of light in the distance. As they drew nearer they saw that it was the end of the tunnel and led out into the open air.

Jack and Molly moved cautiously when they came to the end. They crept out, and found themselves in the middle of a thick tangle of bushes. Through the bushes they struggled and forced a way until they at length came out on to a narrow footpath which threaded its way in and out of a host of bushes and trees. They began to run as soon as they were on the footpath, though they did not know where they were or where it would lead them: but they ran, and continued to run, until they reached a wider path, and saw that they were on a big open heath. They paused to regain their breath and take their bearings.

It was night-time, but the moon which sailed overhead in a clear sky made everything almost as light as day. They were certainly on a heath of some sort.

“Why, of course,” Jack gasped, very much out of breath, “this must be the Goblin’s Heath!”

CHAPTER XII
The Goblin’s Heath

Once they were safely hidden in the tree, Jack and Molly had time to talk matters over. They decided to stay where they were until daylight, when they could continue their search. They talked and planned for some time, and then, as their excitement wore off a little, they began to get very sleepy. Everything seemed quiet and still around them, but they would take no more risks that night, so decided to sleep in turns—one keeping watch, and waking the other up at certain intervals, or if anything happened in the meantime. They had no idea what the time was, so they arranged their intervals by the moon. When the moon reached a certain place, Jack, who undertook the first watch (protesting that he wasn’t tired), was to wake Molly up. So Molly went to sleep, after making Jack promise that he would wake her up if she showed any signs of falling out of the tree. Jack had a hard struggle to keep awake at first, but he managed it somehow, and after Molly had woken up and taken a turn at watching, and he had had a short, sound sleep, he felt much refreshed.

The time wore on and Jack was just starting his second watch, and Molly had fallen asleep again, when he heard a long rustle in one of the bushes down below. He leant forward, peering down through the branches; there was evidently something stirring inside the bush; the leaves rustled and shook, and then were thrust aside, and a queer little figure stepped out and stood on the broad footpath in the moonlight. It was a very small, quaint man, dressed in brown, with a pointed cap on his head; he gazed along the pathway for a moment, then turned and scanned the Heath in the opposite direction.

Jack gave a start as something moved in the tree beside him. But it was only Molly, awake, and wide-eyed, staring down at the little brown man with absorbed attention.

A squeal of laughter came from among the bushes a short distance away, and the next second another little man came running over the grass to the waiting figure and started talking rapidly. Their voices were very tiny, and although the sounds floated clearly up to the listeners in the tree, the words were undistinguishable. While they watched a third little man appeared, accompanied by two quaint little women, dressed in brown skirts and shawls and brown bonnets. All at once it dawned on Jack and Molly who these little people were, with the tiny, thin, dancing legs, and the elfish faces. They were goblins. And, of course, the Heath was named after them. The children had not expected to see any goblins on the heath; they had certainly thought it a picturesque name to call this part of the country, but they had not expected any reason for the name. But behold! here before their eyes were real live goblins, the first goblins they had ever seen, and they watched them, surprised and curious. More goblins now began to appear on the scene; one after another they came, darting from behind bushes, sliding down the trunks of trees or dropping from the branches, racing along the footpath, skipping over the grass, until by and by it seemed as if there were tiny brown figures scurrying to and fro on every side, appearing and disappearing, here, there, in and out; the whole Heath seemed to be alive with goblins. Such a squeaking of tiny voices, a chinking of goblin laughter, and a pattering of feet; and the goblins seemed to be all so busy and important and in a feverish haste about nothing at all.

Presently the children noticed that one of the goblins had made his way to the foot of their tree and was very busy dragging and pushing aside a big stone. He moved it away at length and disclosed a small hole in the tree trunk, close to the ground. He bent down and crawled into the hole. A scrambling and scratching began inside the tree, that sounded, as the scrambling noise became louder and nearer, as if the goblin were climbing up to the top of the trunk.

“Oh, Jack, I believe he lives in this tree,” whispered Molly. “What shall we do if he finds us up here?” You see, they were not quite sure whether the goblins were friends or enemies, or how they would be disposed to regard them.

However, they were soon to know, for a few seconds later, the scratching and scrambling having continued until it sounded close underneath where the children were crouching, the goblin popped its head up through a hole just beside Jack’s right foot. The Goblin studied the sole of Jacks shoe attentively for a moment, then his gaze travelled to Jack, whom he eyed with mild astonishment. Then he caught sight of Molly, and transferred his attention to her. The children remained silent, not knowing what to say. They could tell nothing of the Goblin’s attitude toward them from his surprised face. Then he spoke. His voice sounded very small and far away, but the children were glad to find that they could understand what he said.

“Are you real?” asked the Goblin.

“Of course we are,” said Jack.

“What are you?” was the next question.

Molly started to explain, but she soon noticed that the Goblin was shaking his head, so she stopped.

“No ... there isn’t really a place called the Impossible World, which you can reach through a tree in a forest,” he said, as if confiding to them a sad truth. “It’s only a story—a make-believe place—like Dreamland.”

Molly was taken aback.

“Oh, but there is such a place,” she affirmed. “We know there is—because we have come from there.”

“I like to hear you say that—but I don’t believe you,” said the Goblin, candidly. “I wish I could. And I wish you were real, indeed I do.”

“We are real,” said Jack, warmly. “We’re as real as anything. Why, it’s you that is only—that people say are not—I mean——”

“What do you think we are, then, if you don’t believe we are real people?” asked Molly, quickly, giving Jack a warning glance.

“Well, you may be only an optical illusion—I may think I see you, but you may not really be there,” suggested the Goblin blandly, wagging his quaint little head from side to side. His head and two little hands clutching the edge of the hole were still the only parts visible of him.

The children gazed down at him. An optical illusion! This was indeed a horrible thought, and made Molly pinch herself to make sure she was really there. Then she laughed.

“We are as real as you are,” she said. Then she had an inspiration. “As real as Old Nancy,” she added, watching the Goblin closely.

His expression changed immediately, and a look of glad surprise crossed his face. “Why, do you know her?” he asked quickly.

“Rather,” said Jack. “She’s a friend of ours.”

“Then I am a friend of yours,” said the Goblin, climbing out of the hole and standing beside the children. “Whether you are real—or—or—whatever you are.”

Their recent lesson in trusting people had made the children more cautious, and although they could see that they had no choice in their behaviour toward this little Goblin, as they were powerless to escape from the Heath with its swarms of goblins, yet they felt friendly disposed toward him for his own sake. He seemed quite genuine in his regard for Old Nancy, and very soon he was sitting in the tree beside them, chatting away and asking them all about themselves, and answering questions by the score.

They found that he knew that the Pumpkin had returned, one of his brother-goblins had brought the news. And they discovered also that the goblins were the Pumpkin’s bitter enemies. Then they told him all about their search for the Black Leaf, and how they were to search the Heath when daylight came.

“You won’t see any of us in the daytime,” said the Goblin. “We’ll be all asleep down our little holes ... but I don’t think the Black Leaf is anywhere on the Heath, or one of us would have seen it, and the news would have soon spread amongst us.”

“Still, I suppose we shall have to search it all the same ... as we promised,” said Molly.

“Yes, you’re quite right,” agreed the Goblin, “Besides, we might not have seen it. I’m afraid you’ll find the Heath very big—but I daresay you could search it in a day if you start at dawn.... I wish I could help you, but—ah! one thing I can do—I can send word to you if the Pumpkin appears anywhere in this neighbourhood while you are searching the Heath....”

“That is very kind of you,” said Molly. “It will help us a lot.”

“And when you come to the village beyond—if you want to know of some one you can trust—go to Miss Marigold. Don’t forget the name,” said the Goblin.

“Miss Marigold,” repeated Jack. “I’ll remember. Thanks, very much.”

“Do you know,” smiled the Goblin, “when I heard that Old Nancy had sent the Pumpkin to the Impossible World, I thought it was a place like Dreamland—or a make-believe place, but now—if you say that you really are—I suppose you can’t come down from the tree and let the other goblins see you?”

The children were about to reply, when a great hubbub and excitement arose among the goblins below, as a new goblin dashed in among them with some exciting news.

“Wait here,” said the Goblin, “and I’ll go and find what it’s all about.”

He soon climbed down and appeared among the crowd of eager, chattering goblins. Presently he slipped away again and scrambled up the tree to the children.

“I’m glad you didn’t come down,” he said. “They are searching for you—the Pumpkin’s spies are; an old woman and a young girl. Some of the goblins saw them about half an hour ago, on the main road over the Heath.”

Jack and Molly began to shiver a little.

“It’s all right,” said the Goblin. “I haven’t told the goblins where you are. I thought they’d be sure to want to see you, and this, of course, would attract attention. But I have told them to go and have some sport and to lead the old hag and the girl a real dance. I told them they were the Pumpkin’s spies—they will lead them a dance too—making crackly noises in the bushes to lead them off the track—and running—and squealing—a regular goblins’ dance we’ll lead them. I’ll go too and tell you what happens. I’ll be back before dawn—this is my home, you know—this tree. Good-bye for the present,” and he dashed away.

The children saw him swoop into a group of excited goblins and urge them to follow him—which they did. And presently there was scarcely a goblin in sight. They had all gone trooping away to the place on the Heath where the old woman and the girl were searching for Jack and Molly.

It seemed to the children that they waited in the tree for hours and hours, waiting, listening. Occasional sounds floated to them from the distance. They could hear squeaking and crackling, and once they heard a shrill scream. But they saw nothing, until the dawn broke.

Almost immediately afterward the Goblin returned, darting from out of the bushes opposite, popping into the hole in the tree trunk and scrambling up to them. In the pale glimmer of the morning light he told them what had happened, and how they had twice prevented the old woman from turning down the path that led past the children’s hiding-place.

“They are gone from the Heath now,” he said. “We drove them home, in the end, by darting out and pinching their legs and throwing prickly leaves at them. There were thousands of us goblins.... I wish you could have seen us.... When they found we were really in earnest and meant to get rid of them, and were not just teasing—they soon went. The old hag tried to tread on some of us—she was so angry; but we snatched her shoe off and threw it into a pond.”

“It’s very kind of you to have helped us so,” said Molly.

“We enjoyed it,” said the Goblin. “It was great fun. And they really deserved it, you know.”

And now that it was daybreak the Goblin bade good-bye to the children. “Remember,” he said, “I will find some means of warning you throughout the day, if the Pumpkin is near.” He popped down his hole; they heard him scramble a little way inside the tree—then all was quiet.

Jack and Molly looking out from the tree saw that all the other goblins had vanished. They waited a while until the day came, then they climbed down from their hiding-place, stretched themselves, and at once set about their search.

It was a difficult task, and a long one, for there seemed countless thick bushes, trees, hillocks, and winding paths on the Goblin’s Heath. But they plodded on, searching eagerly and carefully. For a couple of hours they worked, then as the morning advanced they remembered that they had had nothing to eat since yesterday. So they climbed up another tree, so as not to be taken by surprise, and finished up the remains of Glan’s ‘snack,’ while they discussed their plans for the day—studying their map so as not to leave any part of the Heath unsearched.

“There’s one bit I’m afraid we must go back and do,” said Molly, “though I don’t like the idea of going near there again. You remember, Jack—we did not search the little bit of lane just beyond that—that house yesterday; that bit and the very beginning of the Heath.”

They did not like the idea of going back to the Third Green Lane at all. But they went. When they came within sight of the lane they were amazed to find that the house had gone. It had vanished completely. Jack and Molly could scarcely believe their eyes at first, but on the whole they were distinctly relieved that it wasn’t there; nevertheless, they searched the end of the lane and the edge of the Heath quickly, with constant, watchful eyes on the place where the house had been. Having satisfied themselves that the leaf was nowhere about there, they proceeded to the spot where they had left off searching, and continued peering among the bushes and trees and heather of the Goblin’s Heath.

Hour after hour passed by, and the day wore on. Still they plodded away at their task, keeping together and listening always, in case a message came from the Goblin. When they got hungry again, they ate some of Old Nancy’s little brown sweets, and found them very refreshing.

In the daylight they could hardly imagine it was the same Heath that they had seen by moonlight; there was not the slightest trace of goblins, or spies. That is, not the slightest trace until they came across a pond and saw, half out of the water, and stuck in the soft mud, a shoe: a curiously shaped shoe, which they remembered, vaguely, seeing before—on the foot of the old woman with the horrible eyes. This was evidently the shoe that the goblins had thrown into the pond. The sight of it made all their recent adventures return vividly to their minds, and made them very unwilling to be still on the Heath when night came. So they hastened on their way.

Evening was already approaching when they finally came to the end of their day’s search, and no sign of the Black Leaf had they found. As no warning had come from the Goblin and they had not been disturbed in any way, they felt, on the whole, all the better for their open-air day on the sunny, wind-swept Heath; though they were tired now, and not at all sorry to turn their footsteps toward the little village, which appeared close at hand, at the edge of the Heath.

CHAPTER XIII
Timothy Gives Them a Clue

They stopped. Miss Marigold looked up from her flowers and saw two tired little faces looking at her over the gate. Miss Marigold was tall and thin and looked neither old nor young, but between the two. Her thick hair, which was of a pale yellow colour, was neatly braided round her head; she was dressed in a dark green dress with snow-white collar and cuffs. She looked kind when she smiled, and as she smiled when she saw the children they made up their minds to stay there if they could. So they opened the gate and entered her garden.

She listened while they told her who they were and what they wanted.

“I shall be pleased to give you accommodation,” she said in her gentle, stiff little manner. “And you would like a cup of hot tea and some toasted muffins at once, I’m sure.”

Jack and Molly felt that there was nothing they would like more than tea and muffins, but they told Miss Marigold that they had no money with them, and asked her what they could do for her to earn their tea, bed, and breakfast.

“Nothing at all. You are searching for the Black Leaf—that is enough. You will have done more for me, and for the whole country, than can ever be repaid, if you find it,” said Miss Marigold, and led the way into her cottage, which was quaint and old-fashioned, with low, oak-beamed ceilings and sloping floors.

The children had a refreshing wash, then sat down to a well-spread table—hot tea, and toasted muffins and eggs, and brown bread and butter, and honey, and fresh fruit. Over tea they told Miss Marigold about their search, and the latest doings of the Pumpkin. Miss Marigold had never actually seen the Pumpkin, but she had heard much about him, of course, and was very interested in the children’s account.

“We have only just received news, in the village here, that the Pumpkin has returned. One of the villagers, who went to the city, came riding back over the Goblin’s Heath with the news,” she told the children.

While they were talking they heard footsteps on the garden path outside the window, and then came a tap at the door. Jack and Molly started. But Miss Marigold rose leisurely saying, with a shake of her head, “I told him not to stay as late as this.” Then she opened the door. “Ah! come in, Timothy,” she said.

Timothy came in. Catching sight of strangers in the room, he paused, hesitating on the mat, nervously twisting his cap in his hands. Timothy was a fat, awkward-looking boy, about twelve years old, with puffy cheeks, and round eyes, and a simple expression. Miss Marigold introduced him as her nephew, much to the children’s surprise, as he was utterly unlike his aunt in every way—in looks especially, except for the hair, which was the same pale yellow colour.

“Timothy has been out to a tea-party to-day,” said Miss Marigold to the children. “Haven’t you, Timothy?”

“Umth,” lisped Timothy, in a thick voice, nodding his head.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself,” said Molly, politely.

“Perapths,” replied Timothy, sitting down on the extreme edge of a chair.

Molly looked puzzled, but he seemed well-meaning, and she felt sorry for him as he appeared to be so nervous.

“What kept you so late?” asked his aunt. “You ought to have been home an hour ago—you know I don’t like you being out after dusk.”

Timothy blushed and began a jerky, stammering sort of explanation. His aunt frowned a little and looked at him suspiciously.

“You haven’t been on the Goblin’s Heath, have you?” Miss Marigold asked.

“No, ma’m,” replied Timothy, promptly. “Where have you come from?” he asked Jack suddenly.

“We’ve just come from the Goblin’s Heath,” replied Jack; and at Timothy’s eager request to be told about their adventures, Jack started to tell him about their search. Timothy appeared to listen intently, until presently his aunt got up and went out of the room to prepare the bedrooms. Immediately he leant across the table and interrupted.

“Here!” he exclaimed suddenly.

Jack stopped speaking, and stared at Timothy, who was obviously in a very excited state.

“Here, I thay! What do you thig?” said Timothy.

“What? What is it? What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

“I theen it,” said Timothy, and exploded with laughter.

Jack and Molly exchanged bewildered glances, while Timothy rolled and rocked in his chair with laughter till the tears ran down his fat white cheeks. He continued to gasp and laugh until Molly grew quite concerned about him, and jumping off her chair she ran to the door to call his aunt. This sobered him immediately and he sprang up waving his hand to stop her.

“Don’t, don’t,” he managed to gasp. “I alwayth laugh when ... he! he! he!... when I exthited ... don’t call aunt ... I tell you ... he! he! he! he!... in a minute.”

When he had quieted down a bit he said:

“Aunt muthn’t know, becauth ’e thig I been out to tea—well, I haven’t—and I been where ’e told me not to go, and I theen it!” He was getting fearfully excited again.

“Seen what? Oh, do tell us,” said Molly.

“The ... he! he! he!...” Timothy giggled. “The ... Black Leaf!”

“Oh,” cried Jack and Molly together, their questions tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Where is it? Where did you see it? Did you pick it? What did you do with it?”

“I didn’t pick it—I couldn’t get near it,” Timothy answered. “But I know where it ith....” He leant toward them and whispered hoarsely, his eyes round and bulging. “... In the Orange Wood.”

Timothy went on to tell them how he had happened to see it. It seemed that he had been forbidden by his aunt to go on to the Goblin’s Heath, or into the Orange Wood, because it was rumoured that the Pumpkin’s spies were in hiding in both these places—it was even said by some that the Pumpkin himself had been seen on the Heath yesterday. Although Timothy didn’t believe this, he said, he longed to explore both the wood and the heath, and to-day he had deceived his aunt, pretending he was going to tea with a friend and instead had slipped into the wood, which lay just beyond the village, and had wandered about there. He had come across Mr Papingay’s house in the wood—which he had often heard about, but never seen before. (Mr Papingay! Jack and Molly recognised the name, of course; it was Glan’s relation.) He was a funny old man, was Mr Papingay, said Timothy; and it was a funny house. And the Black Leaf was growing in a plant-pot, in the house! Only don’t tell his aunt he’d been in the wood, he pleaded, she would be angry with him, and perhaps send him away home to his father: and he didn’t want to go home yet.

“Wait till you’ve got the Leaf—then it won’t matter,” said Timothy.

He seemed so distressed at the idea of his aunt knowing of his disobedience (although she didn’t seem the kind of aunt to be too severe, Molly thought) that the children promised they would say nothing about it.

“Couldn’t you come with us, to-morrow, and show us the way?” said Jack.

But Timothy shook his head. “I rather you tell me about it afterwarth,” he said. “I had enough of the wood. Ith too full of crackly noith. I ran all the way home,” he confessed. “Oh, and thereth one thig. Don’t let Mr Papingay know you’ve come for the Leaf. He’th a funny old man, perapth he wouldn’t let you have it. Wait till you thee it. It wath on the kitchen window thill—inthide—when I thaw it.”

The children thanked Timothy, and were discussing eagerly to-morrow’s plans, when Miss Marigold looked in to say all was ready upstairs.

“I heard you laughing a lot just now, Timothy,” she remarked. “That tea-party made you very excited, I’m afraid.”

“Umth,” agreed Timothy, meekly.

The children were very tired that night, and in spite of their excitement they slept soundly in the comfortable, warm beds Miss Marigold had prepared for them.

Their first waking thoughts were of the plant-pot in Mr Papingay’s house: they longed to be off to the Orange Wood without delay. But they discovered, on arriving downstairs, that the village had made other plans for them. Somehow the news had spread that two people from the Impossible World had come to search the village for the Black Leaf, and the villagers meant to welcome them handsomely and give them all the help they could. During breakfast the children noticed that people kept stopping and peering in through the window at them, and from remarks dropped by Miss Marigold they understood that they would create great disappointment, if not give real offence, unless they searched the village thoroughly that day—and in sight of the people. Jack and Molly began to feel as if they were a sort of show or entertainment. However, they talked things over together, and calculating that the village ought not to take more than a few hours to do—as it was very small—they decided that perhaps they had better search it first, and then in the afternoon start off into the Orange Wood. After all Timothy might have made a mistake, and the Leaf might be in the village after all; it would never do to pass it by.

So they set to work immediately after breakfast, much refreshed by their long sleep and the wholesome, good food that Miss Marigold had set before them. They thanked her warmly and said good-bye to Timothy, then stepped out into another day of sunshine.

But they had reckoned their time without the villagers. So insistent and eager were they to help the children that they hindered and delayed them in every way. Children and men and women suggested likely places where the Black Leaf might be growing, and insisted on taking Jack and Molly to the places; but each search proved in vain.

They searched a field by special request of the man who owned it, and who expressed great surprise when told that the Leaf was not there. (Although he knew very well that the Leaf was not there as he had already gone over the field himself. Still he felt he couldn’t have his ground neglected when all his neighbours’ fields were being searched.)

And one old lady insisted on digging up her window box to show them that the Leaf wasn’t there, conscious of the importance she was gaining in the eyes of her neighbours while the children stayed about her place.

The attention they received made the children rather uncomfortable. However, every garden, every yard of roadway, every field and lane and paddock, and even every plant-pot, having been searched to the villagers’ (and the children’s) satisfaction, Jack and Molly at length said good-bye to the village and turned eagerly toward the Orange Wood.

The afternoon was well advanced by this time, and the sun gleaming through the trees in the wood turned the gold and brown leaves on the branches to a mass of flaming colour.