The City Curious

Smaly, in his alarm, had seized both Redy's hands in his, and now he suddenly noticed that they were all wet. For one dreadful moment Smaly thought they must be wet with blood, but the fact was that poor Redy's hands were crying with fright.

For a little while Smaly and Redy wept bitterly, but they soon grew too tired to cry. They shut their mouths firmly, and tried to leave off sobbing when they left off weeping, but their sobs kept on and on in spite of them, for all the world like a tap that keeps on going "glug-glug!" when one has forgotten to turn it off.

Smaly put up his hand, meaning to lay it gently over Redy's mouth.

She no longer had a mouth—in place of it was a fine large beak, painted an elegant blue. Filled with horror, and sure that their end had come, Smaly thought to print on Redy's cheek one last kiss of despair.

But he found he, too, had a beak, with which he could do nothing but peck. They stood staring at each other's beaks. They did not yet know that the beaks were invisible to all save themselves and the birds.

They sat down on their heels like Turkish princes, and their sobs went on and on, sounding like the lament of thousands of insects, and still the green hedges around them went on growing, till it seemed that the two poor little people were at the bottom of a profound green funnel, brimming with darkness, in which their moaning sounded like the wind in the chimney of a winter's night.

"Oh, oh, my Redy, we're in a pretty pass!" murmured Smaly, and Redy knew that he was feeling almost mad with fright, so that at once she felt mad with fright also. Now Redy had heard that mad people sing and dance, and so she at once began to do both, dragging Smaly along with her. They sang and danced till they had no breath left, and then they wanted to drop down and rest, but found they had to keep on and on in spite of themselves. The dance of terror, and the song with which their little little sobs and moans mingled, continued there at the bottom of the green funnel. There was more noise than there is at midday in Oxford Circus.

The pepper from the latch of the door began to burn again in Smaly's mouth, and reminded him that after all there was a door out of this horrible place. He began to feel about for it in the darkness. When he found it he uttered a sharp little cry, which, like the moans and the singing, refused to die away, but went on echoing in the green funnel, so that by now there was a noise like a tempest, for all the world as though the whole sea had been imprisoned in a box—and a box too small for it.

Smaly uttered this cry because he had discovered that the latch was once more in its place on the door, although Smaly had thrown it far away after biting it. Redy's hinge also was back in its place. Neither the latch nor the hinge bore any trace of having been bitten, but felt smooth and solid to the fingers.

Smaly and Redy became even more terrified than before, so that their hearts felt like two little lumps of ice in their breasts. And then a very odd thing happened to them. Their beaks opened of themselves, and these words came out of them—words which Smaly and Redy had never thought of saying:

"Where is the key?"

Nothing answered them.

Then they found themselves on their hands and knees looking for the key.

"Where is the key? Oh, Reckybecky, where is the key?" the beaks demanded, entirely of their own accord.

Immediately a little grille opened in the door, and a voice said:

"Upon this side are honey, tea, and sugar! On your side are pepper, ginger, and allspice!"

"And on this side there are also the beaks of birds!" replied Smaly, alarmed at his own temerity; "and here also are the hands which weep! And the horrible moanings! And——"

He was interrupted by a gentle laugh. This laugh sounded like a little peal of crystal bells. And as the laugh went rippling on, the hedge began to shrink and shrink, and the moans and sobs died away.

The hearts of Smaly and Redy were beating like a couple of alarum-clocks. The gate had a little grille in it and they peeped through this grille to see what creature it was whose silvery laughter had the power to charm away both the high hedge and the weird moanings. Although the creature was several yards away they could see quite clearly his large, rosy eyes edged with grey rims. They saw the creature as distinctly as one can see the actors on the stage when one looks through opera-glasses.

They saw that the rosy grey-rimmed eyes were set in a face of the green of a pistachio-nut. The hair was the vague blue of cigarette smoke. The head looked as though it were sculptured out of mother-of-pearl. Later, they discovered that it was a mingling of ice-cream and jelly, for the creature himself was a confectioner.

He was a confectioner ... and yet Smaly could have wagered his beautiful new boots that he was more of a kangaroo than anything else. For though this confectioner wore an apron and a fine green waistcoat, yet undoubtedly his chess-board trousers and embroidered stockings covered the powerful hind legs of a kangaroo. The long paws were shod with a species of pattens, so big they seemed like miniature tables, and these pattens were painted scarlet. Slung all about him, the Kangaroo carried as many pots and pans as a travelling tinker. He was adorned as well by spoons of bamboo, and from his belt hung ebony-handled knives, while jam-jars and flagons, filled with preserves and essences, dangled about him. The most tender mauves and translucent greens glowed through the glass of the flagons.

Smaly studied the good-natured face of this personage, and asked him simply:

"Who are you?"

Then the Kangaroo-Confectioner said a surprising thing. He replied:

"I am the Architect."

The moment he had spoken he put up his hand and shut his mouth, to prevent the sound of his words going on and on in the curious air of the place, which seemed to hold sounds suspended as water holds the fronds of weeds.

Smaly looked at him dubiously.

"You say you are an architect ... and yet your occupation appears to me to be much more that of a confectioner, a super-confectioner."

The Kangaroo seemed overcome with a nervousness; his smiling face creased itself into a thousand little lines of distress, his eyes looked vacant, his manner became flustered. Evidently he was struggling with his emotion. When he had sufficiently recovered he planted his long feet more firmly on their scarlet pattens, and, taking a deep breath, chanted as follows:

But, since the word "allspice" continued to reverberate through the air, the Confectioner shut his mouth smartly with his finger and thumb.

CHAPTER II

Smaly saw that there was no reason to be afraid of this strange creature so he crawled in through the grille of the gate and sat down upon one of the Confectioner's enormous paws. Redy made haste to follow him. No sooner was she settled than a number of strange little beings appeared as though from nowhere and clustered around her, pointing curious fingers at her while they chatted amongst themselves.

These little beings were the inhabitants of this strange new country. They nearly all wore gigantic wigs, and sometimes these wigs were so long that they needed a page to carry the last curl as though it were the end of a train.

The more Redy looked at these funny little people the greater was the amazement that appeared upon her face.

Smaly also was astonished; but he would have died sooner than let his astonishment appear.

These curious little beings, who were known as the "Wigs" because of their large perukes, were even smaller than Redy and Smaly. At first sight they looked rather like those stiff little coloured figures you may see in Egyptian drawings at the British Museum, but no Egyptians were ever dressed as these people were. Their vividly coloured clothes were composed of mosaics of caramel and jam, with insertions of fruit and cake. Each one wore on his head a hat made of preserved fruit or of a whole bun or little cake. Shoes seemed to be very much a matter of individual taste in this land, for every inhabitant wore a pair of a different colour, shoes so gay that the mere sight of them made one want to dance. There was one woman in particular who wore upon her head a cake in the form of a little tower, who had the most charming mauve shoes with red soles, upon which Redy felt her eyes always returning enviously.

The Wigs for their part had not gathered together merely to look at the little strangers. With brightly coloured sponges some began to mop up the dew which still clung to the leaves of the hedge, while others with little pieces of blotting-paper set to work to dry each blade of grass at the side of the road. This seemed such a useless thing to do that Smaly would have liked to ask why they were doing it, but he felt too shy, so he contented himself with winking at Redy. Then he glanced up at the Confectioner.

"Tell me—why has Redy got a beak?" he asked, and before he could be answered began to suck his finger. He sucked it because a drop of sweet preserve had fallen upon it from one of the Confectioner's pots.

"Has Redy got wings as well?" asked the Confectioner, thoughtfully taking a spoonful of the same preserve and offering it to Redy.

"No," said Smaly.

"Then she can't have a beak," replied the Confectioner triumphantly.

"Do you mean to say you don't see her beak or mine either?" asked Smaly in astonishment.

"Never in my life have I seen a beak upon any creature that had not wings as well," replied the Confectioner stolidly; "therefore it doesn't exist."

"A beak, a beak, a beak, not exist, not exist, not exist," said all the echoes one after the other.

Smaly decided to wait until the Confectioner spoke again; but it was Redy who broke the silence in an unexpected manner.

She walked away from the Confectioner and stood looking at him scornfully from a little distance.

"An architect!" she said. "You say you are an architect, but when we called 'Reckybecky' you opened the door, therefore you are Reckybecky, nothing but Reckybecky."

The Confectioner, who was a simple soul, stared at her very disconcerted. "Reckybecky," he repeated in a sort of stupefaction. "Reckybecky, am I really nothing but that?"

"You are Reckybecky," repeated Redy firmly.

"Dear me, I never heard that before," said the Confectioner. "I wonder if you can be right. Then if I am Reckybecky I suppose I am not an architect at all," and he covered his face to try and think more clearly.

The two little people watched him timidly, wondering what was going on in that bent head. Suddenly the Confectioner raised his head and flung his pots and pans, his spoons and his knives, on to the ground on either side of him.

Most of the pots broke and fragrant streams of beautifully coloured preserves spread here and there over the uneven ground. Immediately dozens of Wigs pounced upon the wreckage, and while the jams trickled hither and thither amongst the grass these creatures tried to scrape it up again into jugs and basins, and even into their caps, with the spoon which every Wig carries hung from his belt.

At some distance off a procession had been passing which had hitherto paid no attention to the crowd round the gate, but now this broke up and various persons quitted its ranks to try and scrape up some of the precious preserves. These creatures did not resemble anything that Redy and Smaly had seen up to then. At first sight they all appeared to be riding little horses; horses draped like those which we see in old pictures of tournaments.

These horses, however, were made of sugar, and very soon Redy and Smaly perceived that they were simply worn round the waists of the Wigs, whose two feet ran along the ground beneath the draperies where the four feet of the horses should have been.

Smaly could not help thinking that to have a horse like that would be rather fine if you could not afford a real horse of your own; but Redy was occupied in admiring the fine costumes of the Wigs who owned the horses.

These cavaliers were splendidly clad in green, white, rose, grey, and black. One, in particular, wore rose-coloured boots, and his horse was made to resemble a blue roan. Its mane was like a cocks-comb, cut in scarlet points.

All these things Redy and Smaly managed to observe without showing undue astonishment; but neither could resist a little cry of surprise when they saw flying through the air a large fish. This fish, who wore a ring through his nose, had also come to take part in the unexpected feast.

Finally, even the Sponges, which the Wigs carried in their hands, and with which they had been drying the hedges, jumped out of their hands. Each Sponge unfolded little legs and started running towards the jam.

And now a strange thing began to happen to the Confectioner. The poor fellow was evidently in great distress because Redy had told him that he was not an architect, but only Reckybecky.

Redy and Smaly had never in all their lives seen any one so cruelly upset.

He seemed to be melting before their eyes and becoming transparent. He did not cry; but seemed rather to be transformed into a sort of damp and clinging fog. "Just as though he were 'dissolving in tears,'" thought Smaly. And he stared curiously at the Confectioner who every moment became more cloud-like than ever.

But suddenly the vague outline of a hand, which was all that remained of him, struck the vaguer outline of his forehead as though an idea had come to him. Once more his face assumed a clarity as though it were made of mother-of-pearl, and he cried out:

"Reckybecky!"

This name reverberated round and about like a clap of thunder. It went on and on, making such a noise that all the little Wigs left off scraping up the jam and scampered away.

Redy felt afraid. Smaly jumped off the patten on which he had remained perched during the eclipse of the Confectioner. As to the latter, he endeavoured to shut his mouth and stop the noise from going on echoing; but he was not very solid again as yet and found some difficulty in doing it. At the end of the long avenue of sugar-trees Redy could see little groups of people gathered together looking about them to try and discover whence came this noise.

The Confectioner succeeded in shutting his mouth, and then turning towards Redy he opened it again, and remarked firmly:

"You are a stupid little thing."

Then turning to Smaly he said, with that confidential accent which one adopts when singling out the most intelligent person of a company for one's remarks:

"No, I cannot be Reckybecky, for somebody else is Reckybecky, so there!"

The Confectioner seemed extremely relieved by this remarkable solution.

"Reckybecky must be the doorkeeper," he added firmly.

"The doorkeeper?" asked Smaly and Redy.

"Certainly, we've had a doorkeeper for years, and one day a traveller told us that since we had a doorkeeper it was necessary we should have a door, and then the Despoiler, who is the wisest of all of us, except the Mother of the Crow, decided that since we had a porter who was made of chocolate, we must have a gate made for him, and that the gate should be made of chocolate to match."

Smaly and Redy turned to look back at the door; the grille by which they had entered had disappeared, and everywhere the chocolate had become solid once again.

"I will show you the doorkeeper soon," promised the Confectioner, "but for goodness' sake don't tell him that you know he's a doorkeeper. He thinks he's simply a chocolate grub on his way to become a chocolate butterfly; in fact, we have nominated another doorkeeper to take his place if this ever comes off. This other person isn't really a doorkeeper either, but there's one thing he can do, and that is, he can make the latch and the hinge grow again when somebody has eaten them." The Confectioner looked at Redy and Smaly very severely when he said this.

They both felt extremely embarrassed.

With his nail, which looked exactly like a horn salt-spoon, the Confectioner scraped the inner side of the door just beside the latch, and Redy and Smaly saw the chocolate grow again as rapidly as he scraped it away.

The Confectioner gave a little exclamation of annoyance, and began to hunt for his magic ring amongst all the things he had thrown to the ground; but he could not find it. This ring had the power of preventing both plants and things from growing, and without it the Confectioner was unable to prevent the chocolate door from replacing itself as fast as he scraped it away. Nevertheless Smaly and Redy started to help him, and they all three scraped so hard that they caught a glimpse in the interior of the door of a tiny creature sitting in a niche. This creature was a grub about the size of a nut. Round its waist it wore a key as big as itself, and on its head a fur bonnet, which nodded forward to its chest.

"It's asleep," said the little man to the little woman.

At this moment a Crow made of bilberry preserve and liquorice hopped up to them. This Crow was the doorkeeper who was yet not the doorkeeper; and who had been nominated in the place of the grub. The grub was really the doorkeeper; but always refused to admit it.

The Crow, who seemed convulsed with rage, seized Redy in one claw and Smaly in the other, preparatory to throwing them outside once more.

At this dangerous moment Smaly once again found his beak crying out of itself. This time he heard it say that he wished to speak to the Chief Contractor.

The Crow lifted him up by his waistband, and gazed at him with his big bright eye like a magnifying-glass, then he dropped him.

"Why, it's made of suet!" he cried in disgust.

He turned his eye upon Redy, who appeared to him much better looking with her delicate little blue beak, which had a bloom on it like a grape. Unlike the Confectioner, the Crow was perfectly well able to perceive the beaks of Smaly and Redy, for he himself was a bird, and to no one save a bird or each other were their beaks visible.

And that is why you who are reading this book, and who are not birds, cannot see their beaks either, unless you make a great effort.

Redy, who saw that the moment had come to explain what they wanted, folded her hands on her apron, and repeated her little poem:

The Crow said:

"It won't do," and he took off his glasses, which were made of ebony, set in a crystal frame. On the rims signs and letters were engraved in characters that looked rather Eastern. If you examined carefully you saw that round one lens was engraved:

DON'T LOOK AT ME.

And on the other one:

FOR YOU DON'T HEAR WITH YOUR EYES.

Smaly paid no attention to the spectacles, but answered the Crow's remark.

"Why won't it do?" he asked.

The Crow opened his beak to answer, then he shut it again, and put on his glasses, for he only wore them when he wanted to speak, and did not particularly wish to see.

For this Crow had three eyes, one on each side of his beak, and a third one carried in a medallion which hung on a chain round his neck. This third eye was very busy and saw more than both the other two put together.

Redy felt extremely annoyed.

"How dare you look at me! You are only made of sugar and bilberry jam," she exclaimed.

"I didn't look at you," said the Crow, rather taken aback.

"Only because you are looking at me," now shouted Smaly.

"No, I am not," retorted the Crow, turning his back and taking off his spectacles.

"Don't leave us," cried Redy hastily. "I only meant that you were looking at us with that beautiful eye that hangs on a chain round your neck."

"Well," said the Crow, coming back and putting on his spectacles once more, "why didn't you say so at once? That's my mother's eye. She's very old; but she still wants to know what is happening in the world, so I carry about her eye with me to let it see. But don't be frightened. She only sees you, she doesn't hear you."

"It wouldn't matter if she did. We should not dream of saying nasty things about your mother," said Redy with true emotion.

"I thought not," said the Crow more peaceably, "besides, she's such a funny little thing, poor dear; she's no legs, no wings, and no tail."

"Dear, dear, and only one eye?" asked Smaly.

"Yes," said the Crow, "only one eye, so she sees only one side of men, birds, and things."

"What does she live on?" asked Redy, with a woman's interest in practical matters.

The Crow replied, "Oh, on candy and caterpillars and sweets and flies, just as you and I do."

"I don't," said Smaly.

"Nor I," said Redy.

The Crow gazed at them with some disgust.

"No, I suppose you live on suet, mutton fat, and oil," he replied, and once again turned his back.

Again Redy tried to detain him; but this time the Crow said he must leave because he had something to write in his diary.

Smaly asked again why they could not have three sweet little girls.

Putting on his spectacles the Crow replied, "Because there aren't any."

CHAPTER III

At this moment a short-legged little man came up to them, upon whose wig was perched a little round hat trimmed with a single rose. A box hung at his side, and upon this box was inscribed the word "SOY."

The Short-Legged Man had a voice so faint it was almost a whisper. It was as musical and delicate as a fiddle heard playing from a great distance. This little man whispered:

Smaly and Redy replied at once:

The Short-Legged Man said, "It won't do."

"Why?" asked Redy.

"Because they should have three green, green, and rosy gardens."

"They shall have," said both the little man and his wife.

"It still won't do," said the Short-Legged Man.

"Why?"

"Because they can't leave this country."

There was a sad moment whilst Smaly and Redy thought of the little white house and the three bedrooms. Then they answered together:

"We'll make their gardens here."

"Come and talk to the Chief," said the Short-Legged Man.

But Redy was hungry and so tired she could not walk. The Crow, instead of helping, flew away. He hadn't really got to write anything in a diary, but he had to carry a girl called Fritilla to the tennis-ground, where a lot of young people were going to play tennis.

Fritilla was a pretty, fair girl with green eyes, whom the Crow had to look after. She was one of the three daughters of the Prisoner, of whom I will tell you later.

But the Short-Legged Man took pity on Redy, and he shouted with his delicious voice out of his froglike mouth, "Papylick!" and this name was repeated as long as the Short-Legged Man did not put his spoonlike finger on his lips.

Papylick arrived with his name written on his boots, which were yellow as toffee, and had no laces. This Papylick was made of slices of different coloured cake, and he, too, carried a box with the word "SOY" inscribed upon it, a word which began to interest Smaly, though he was determined not to betray his interest.

Papylick had a nut in one hand, and opening it he put Redy inside and shut it up again.

Smaly, too, was tired, and thinking it much better for him also to be carried, he said:

"Papylick, my dear Papylick," and immediately shut his mouth again with the first finger of his left hand.

Papylick opened another nut and placed Smaly inside it, then the Short-Legged Man put both nuts in his pocket.

Now Smaly and Redy could not see the country they were being carried through because the nuts were closed; but Papylick had thought of this, and so the landscapes were painted complete in every detail inside the nuts.

But Smaly and Redy, instead of admiring these landscapes, soon discovered they were painted with delicious sweetstuffs such as they had seen in the jars and pots of the Confectioner.

So they licked off the landscapes.

CHAPTER IV

The two rulers of this country were the Chief Contractor and the Despoiler. On arriving at the town where the rulers lived, Redy and Smaly could hear a hundred bells ringing out crystal chimes. These bells were made of coloured sugar and were hung in campaniles of barley-sugar, whose domes were made of gilded crusts.

When the bells left off ringing, a beautiful song arose, and each person who sang it had a voice as sweet as that of the Short-Legged Man or of Papylick.

"We must have arrived for the midday prayer of the Wigs," said Smaly and Redy to themselves in their nuts.

Before very long Papylick and the Short-Legged Man arrived at the house where the Chief Contractor lived and went into the great kitchen.

"Well," said the Chief Contractor, coming forward to meet them, "what have you brought me?"

"A mere nothing," replied Papylick, opening the nuts and displaying the two little people, who, jumping out, became their normal size once more.

"They are two suet-eaters," said the Short-Legged Man apologetically, as he made Smaly and Redy sit down upon two charming seats made of painted wax.

There were more than a hundred of these seats round the enormous kitchen, each occupied by some noted Wig.

Smaly and Redy soon recognized the Crow, and the next moment they saw the Confectioner come in, apparently having quite got over his trouble and leading by the hand the Chocolate Grub who was the doorkeeper.

The Chief Contractor and the Despoiler gazed attentively at Smaly and his wife; but as at this moment dinner was brought in, the two little humans were forgotten in the graver interest of the banquet. The eating in this country was a serious affair attended with many rites.

The banquet began. This solemn feast took place every day. As soon as the guests had taken their seats, each picked up a little slate, which hung by the side of his chair, a slate made of chocolate framed in well-cooked pastry, and each began to write his menu upon his slate. No matter what he wrote, whether it were eggs or roast larks, or whatever it were, the thing at once appeared: the birds with their legs encased in cutlet frills, and the eggs running along on two little feet, and carrying a spoon and salt-cellar in either hand.

Redy and Smaly could not help thinking that all this was rather alarming; they were not used to seeing slices of toast arrive running like big spiders.

Careering busily about the kitchen were little pigs made of marzipan. They were gentle and pretty pigs, who smelt deliciously of aromatic herbs, and each had a knife and fork stuck in his back.

When each guest had cut as much marzipan as he wanted he replaced the knife and fork, and the little pig at once ran merrily on to the next guest without turning so much as one of its marzipan hairs.

As to the tarts, they arrived flying like sparrows or miniature aeroplanes.

Redy also was presented with a slate, and she copied upon it the signs which she saw the Chief Contractor make upon his. By this means she partook of plum tart, oranges, and marzipan, all of which she shared with Smaly, who was not so quick as she was at copying the writing of the next-door neighbour.

Certainly it was a most splendid feast; and as to the service, as one sees, it was conducted in a very novel fashion. Such was a banquet in this country, though on more ordinary occasions the Wigs had to go to their provisions instead of the provisions coming to them.

The feast over, the Wigs dipped their hands in finger-bowls, which consisted of the halves of melons scooped out and filled with rose-water. The Wigs all appeared very happy, their cheeks were flushed, their little amethyst-coloured eyes shone with satisfaction, the air was filled with a delicious scent of fruit.

"It seems to me there is an extraordinary smell of suet here," said the Chief Contractor, suddenly darting an unpleasant look at Smaly and his wife.

"For my part," said the Despoiler, whose whole person from his nose to his feet, which were flatter than pancakes, expressed extreme suspicion—"for my part, what I smell is painted and varnished cardboard." And he, too, fixed Smaly and Redy with his eyes.