IV
THE STORY OF THE LOST STORY
“LET’S go on deck,” said Mary Frances, when they had finished, “and perhaps you can tell me more about the lost story. But first you must solemnly promise that you will not eat the dolphin.”
“I solemnly promise,” said the cat, with upraised paw.
“Very well,” said Mary Frances, leading the way to the deck chair, on which she lay down, while the cat curled himself up on a coil of rope near her head.
“It happened in this way,” began the cat, in a low tone of voice, as he nervously looked around. “You know the ‘enchanted island’ is Storyland, and the home of the Story People. The Story King and Queen have ruled there forever. Well, one day a wicked fellow, who had always said there were no such things as fairies, somehow got into the ‘enchanted island’—it has always been a mystery to me how he did it—and stole a story, and carried it away and hid it. The trouble is that no fairy is allowed to find it. The boy or girl who takes it back will be the first person allowed to enter the ‘enchanted island’ since it was lost.”
“Do you know where it is hidden?” asked Mary Frances.
“I have a slight idea,” whispered the cat.
“Is it on board the pirate ship?” she asked.
“It cannot be. I have searched everywhere—everywhere—everywhere-everywhere—” drowsily replied the cat. Mary Frances noticed that his eyes were closing.
“Just one thing more before you go to sleep, Puss; just one thing more,” she said. “Do you know how long it will take to reach the ‘enchanted island’?”
murmured the cat; and, shake him as she might, that was the only answer Mary Frances could get, until, at length, she could get no answer at all.
After she was certain he was asleep, she went to the bow of the boat and called softly to the dolphin.
He swam up close alongside. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am, indeed,” replied Mary Frances; “but I want to tell you what the cat told me. First, I want to say that he will not hurt you because he is horribly afraid of the pirate, and he knows that he is safe on The Good Ferry as long as you protect it.”
“That’s right!” said the dolphin. “And now, how about the cat’s tale?”
Then Mary Frances told the dolphin the story the cat had told her.
“Why can’t we search for it now?” she asked.
“Well,” replied the dolphin, “I am not exactly sure about the cat’s tale myself, and every year I take one person direct to the island—that’s my orders—that’s my orders. None of them have ever found the lost story—so I’ve taken them direct home. That’s been my orders; that’s been my orders. Better go on, I say; better not take anybody else’s word, I say, I say.”
“All right,” said Mary Frances, “just as you say; but a year’s a pretty long time.”
“That depends,” replied the dolphin.
And away it swam.
And then Mary Frances noticed that the sky was getting dark, and she realized that she was very sleepy. She made her way to the white cabin and undressed and went to bed, wearing the pretty clothing which she found in the wardrobe.
“If I waken suddenly, and want to go on deck, I’ll have on my negligee,” she thought, as she tied the dressing gown in place and slipped on the boudoir cap.