JACK AND JILL
"When the well is dry, they know the worth of water"
Jack and Jill
Went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down
And broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.
"Oh dear, how I hate the rain," said Jack to Jill, as they stood at the window watching the drops trickling down the window-pane. "We can't do anything really nice when it is raining. I wish someone would take all the rain away so that we could have nothing but fine days."
I have heard Jacks and Jills say much the same things nowadays! But this particular Jack and Jill do not live nowadays at all. They lived a very long time ago, in a far-off country. So long ago, and so far off, that witches were still alive, and one of them actually lived in their own village!
The village straggled up the side of a hill, and the Witch's cottage was at the top of it.
It was a queer-looking, tumble-down place, but people said that from it there were trap doors and passages leading to all sorts of caves and cellars dug out of the ground underneath. It was surrounded by very high branching palings with skull-shaped knobs on the top of them.
The people in the village hardly ever saw the old Witch, except during thunderstorms and after late winter parties; but everyone who had seen her, declared that she was very ugly, and beyond a doubt very wicked. She had an uncomfortable way, too, of sometimes appearing suddenly when she was not wanted, and granting people's wishes. This sounds very nice, but it may be horribly inconvenient. The villagers realised this, and it had become the fashion never to wish for anything; and so, despite the presence of the Witch, the village was a happy and contended place enough.
Jack was certainly not thinking about the old Witch when he said, "Oh dear, how I hate the rain," on that particular afternoon.
And Jill was certainly not thinking about the old Witch, when, a few minutes later, she heard a "tap-tap" on the door, louder and more insistent than the pattering of the raindrops on the window-pane.
So they were both of them distinctly frightened when they went to the door and saw—who but the old Witch herself, on the doorstep!
"Oh dear," said Jack.
"Won't you come in?" said Jill.
And in she came.
She was certainly very ugly. She had a hooked nose and pointed chin. Grey wisps of hair straggled out from beneath her poke bonnet. Her eyes were like two snakes, and when she opened her mouth to speak she showed her long pointed iron teeth. She was dressed in a black cloak, from which protruded her long skinny arms and claw-like hands. She carried a broom-stick, and behind her slunk her cat, all draggled with the wet, and mewing frightfully. She sat down on the chair Jill offered her.
"Thank you, my dear," she said, in a voice so harsh and grating that it sounded like a saw scraping over a stone.
"Surely you wouldn't grudge a poor old woman a rest on the way up to her cottage." This with a leering grin at Jack, who was obviously disconcerted at her presence.
Jack tried to make some polite reply, and then there was a long silence, only broken by the pat, pat patter of the raindrops against the window-pane.
"Now I wonder what you two were talking about so nicely when I came in?" said the old Witch at last.
"We were talking about the rain," said Jill.
"Yes," blurted out Jack, "we were saying, at least I was, that I hated the rain. You see, we can't go out when it is raining, and to-morrow everything will be wet, and we shan't be allowed to walk on the grass, and there won't be any cricket for days. Oh, I wish——"
"Ye-es," drawled out the old Witch. "I thought so. You wish that there was not any rain at all."
"Why, yes," said Jack.
"Would you like that too, my pretty dear?" said the old Witch, turning to Jill.
"Yes," said Jill.
"Very well," said the old Witch. "Ve-ry well! Let us make a bargain together. If you, my little dear, (turning to Jill) will come and serve me for a year and a day, I'll manage this rain business for you," and she scraped her iron teeth together and smiled more horribly than ever.
"May I not come and serve you, too?" said Jack.
"Dear me, no!" said the old Witch, bringing her lips together with a smack. "I don't want any boys about the place. Besides, you'll be able to enjoy some of the fine weather first, and can tell your sister how delightful it is when she comes back," and she winked at the cat, who winked one of his green eyes back at her.
"Is it a bar-gain?" drawled the old Witch.
"Yes," said Jack and Jill together.
Then the old Witch drew from her under cloak, a long thin bag made of elastic. This she opened, and hung out of the window.
The rain poured in. When the bag was quite full she whipped a piece of string out of her pocket and tied up the top end. "That will do for the present," she said. "You can carry the bag, my little dear, and we will go straight home and begin work immediately. Say good-bye to your brother and come along."
So Jill kissed Jack, took up the sack, (it was wonderful how very heavy it was,) and opened the door to go out. It had stopped raining, but was still grey and cloudy. As it was already dusk there was no one in the village street as they climbed the hill to the old Witch's cottage followed by the cat. They went slowly. Jill had plenty of time to look about her. The familiar cottage gardens were bright with flowers. Behind them spread the fields thick and lush with growing grass. Over the road arched the trees in all the freshness of their first spring beauty. At the foot of the hill babbled and gurgled the village stream, by the side of which clacked and chattered a few ducks revelling in the glories of the recent shower. Everything smelt fresh and pure and spring-like. Only she, Jill, was tired, for the old Witch's elastic bag seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and the cat would keep on rubbing up against her legs and disconcerting her by winking and blinking up at her with his green eyes.
It was quite dark when they reached the old Witch's cottage. Jill felt she must be getting sleepy, but it certainly appeared to her as if the branching palings round the cottage were really long lean arms joining their skinny hands, and as if the skull-shaped knobs on the top of them were real skulls.
As they approached, all the eyes of all the skulls suddenly lit up like lanterns. Jill began to wish that she had never come.
They went in. The room was very small and dark, and the ceiling was covered with cobwebs. There was a horrible smell coming from a huge cauldron on the fire.
"Hurry up there," called out the old Witch sharply. "Put the bag down on the floor and lay the table for supper."
Jill let down the bag on to the floor with a thud that disturbed several spiders and snakes which were crawling about.
"Hurry up there!" called out the old Witch again.
Jill laid the supper. The old Witch ate hastily, clawing huge pieces of meat out of the smoking cauldron, and throwing titbits to the cat, who lay, winking and blinking as usual, in front of the fire.
After supper the old Witch called out, "Pick up the bag and follow me."
So Jill picked up the bag and followed the Witch into a corner of the kitchen.
"Lift up the floor
And open door,"
bawled out the old Witch, tapping the floor with her broomstick.
Immediately a square piece of the floor slid away, revealing a long flight of black steps.
"Follow me," said the old Witch again.
She went on down the steps and Jill followed, dragging the bag after her.
The steps were very dark and winding, but at last they reached the bottom. Jill found herself in a huge vault.
She first of all thought the vault was empty, but when her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she saw that it was filled with rows and rows of empty casks. Though the casks were empty, yet each one had a label. Jill strained her eyes to read some of the labels in the dim light. "Showers," "Dew," "Drinking-water!"
"What extraordinary labels!" she said to herself, and went on to the next row. "Taps," "Washing-water," "Streams," "Rivers," "Mists," "Frosts." One very large one was labelled "Thunder-storms." The next one to it, "Raindrops, Special, extra loud patterers." The next one, "Steam reserved for Boats, second best quality only." Rows upon rows of them, all empty, and all labelled with these curious labels!
"Bring the bag here," said the old Witch, pointing to a cask labelled "Spring Showers. Pure Refreshers."
Jill lifted up the bag and untied the string. The water went pattering into the cask. When the bag was empty, and the cask was full, a lid slid on to the cask by itself. Then the old Witch touched one of the walls, and another door flew open, leading to a second and much smaller vault. This vault was full of elastic bags like the one Jill had carried up the hill.
"Take as many of these as you can carry," said the old Witch.
So Jill picked up as many as she could carry, and they went back the way they had come.
When they reached the kitchen again the old Witch called out:
"Shut down the floor
And close the door,"
and the floor closed up again.
"I am going out now," said the old Witch. "I shall not be back till to-morrow at dusk. I shall lock the door so that you cannot get out. Clean the place and have supper ready for me when I come back."
She took her broomstick. Then, slinging all the empty bags across it, and balancing the cat on the other end, she mounted it astride.
"Abracadabra!" shouted she.
The broomstick rose up in the air and swirled through the window, which shut down after her with a bang.
So Jill was left alone to work as best she might. The next night when dusk approached she laid the supper and set the cauldron boiling.
"Abracadabra," and in swirled the Witch again, and the window shut after her with a bang!
The elastic bags were full and distended as the old Witch flopped them on to the floor.
"They are all full of water," said she.
"Where did you get it from?" ventured Jill.
"Aha, I stole it!" said the old Witch, with a wicked grin. "When the people weren't looking, I stole it! A bag here, and a bag there. Some nice little thunderstorms I got too. They won't like it when they wake up to-morrow and find their wells dried up, and their grass withering. Ha! ha! ha!" and the old Witch ground her teeth together more maliciously than ever.
"Now, come along, pick up those bags and follow me," she cried, when she had finished eating her supper. So Jill picked up the bags.
"Lift up the floor
And open door,"
shouted the old Witch, tapping the floor with her broomstick. Once more they went down the dark steps into the vault. Jill untied the sacks and emptied them into the different casks according to the Witch's directions, and as each cask was filled a lid slid on of itself. There was a terrible noise while the thunder-storm cask was being filled, and the old Witch had to mutter spells all the time to prevent it from running over.
When the bags were empty and the casks full, the old Witch went into the next vault and made Jill pick up and add some more bags to the number that she already had.
Then they went back to the kitchen again. At the top of the steps the Witch called out:
"Shut down the floor
And close the door,"
and the floor closed up again.
"I am going out now," said the old Witch as before. "I shall not be back till to-morrow at dusk. I shall lock the door so you cannot get out. Clean the place and have supper ready for me when I come back." She took her broomstick and bound on it the double number of elastic bags, perched her cat at the other end, mounted it astride, and with an "Abracadabra," she was gone.
The next night at dusk she returned again with the bags full of water.
"Ha! ha! I stole it," said she to Jill. "A bag here, and a bag there. They won't like it when they wake up to-morrow and find they have no water to wash in and precious little water to drink." She ground her iron teeth together and laughed again.
As before, Jill had to take the bags down to the vault, empty them in the casks, and get a further supply of bags for the next day. And so it went on for a year and a day.
At the end of that time the numberless casks in the vault were all full; the last to be filled being those labelled "Drinking-water Possible," and "Reservoirs Old Fruity."
On the last evening the old Witch was in high spirits. "You have worked well, my pretty dear," she said to Jill. "Go home now and enjoy yourself," and she approached Jill as if to kiss her. But Jill fled out of the door and through the gate-posts on to the hill outside.
She had never been outside the Witch's cottage since the day she came, but she had often thought of the village street as she had seen it last—cool and green and shady, with the babbling stream and chattering ducks at the foot of the hill.
When she got outside the fence she stopped suddenly.
What had happened to the village?
It looked brown and baked and dusty. The sun was intolerably hot. There was not a field to be seen, nothing but a wide dreary desert of sand stretching on either side of the sun-baked houses. A few rotting stumps by the roadside told where once the shady trees had been. As Jill went slowly down the hill she looked into the little dried-up yards that had once been gardens. Oh, how dusty it was! The stream had disappeared, some bleaching bones told of the poor ducks' fate.
"Oh, I am thirsty!" said Jill as she went on down the hill to her own cottage.
A dirty, thin, brown-skinned, weak-looking boy was lying in the porch.
"Jill," he said feebly.
"Is that you, Jack?"
"Yes, have you brought us any water?"
"Me, no; I was just going to ask you for a drink. I am so thirsty."
Jack smiled feebly. "There isn't any," he said.
Jill went indoors. A dirty table-cloth was spread on the dusty table.
"Ugh!" she said, coming out again, "isn't there any milk?"
"No," said Jack. "You see there is no grass for the cows. Where's the water gone?" he cried, raising himself from his chair, "that's what I want to know. I wish it would rain. My word, wouldn't I hang my tongue out to catch the raindrops," and he sank back again exhausted.
"The water?" said Jill, suddenly realising what that year with the old Witch had meant. "Why the old Witch has got it all! Her casks are full of it! But she will never let us have it back again."
"Then we must go and fetch it," said Jack with a sudden burst of energy. "You must come and show me where it is."
"Let us go at once," said Jill, "while the Witch is out. I know the spell to open the doors. We must take a pail to put the water in."
So she went into the dusty, dirty kitchen and found a pail, and then she and Jack set off to climb the glaring village street.
They passed some of the villagers. They all looked as brown and dirty and thin as Jack.
"Where are you going?" they called after the children.
"To fetch a pail of water," answered Jack.
Poor Jack was so thin and tired, and Jill so hot and thirsty that they were forced to stop many times on their way up the hill.
At last they reached the Witch's cottage.
"Abracadabra," called out Jill, and they both entered the house through the window with the pail between them.
"Come along," said Jill, "she may come in at any minute." So they ran to the corner of the kitchen.
"Lift up the floor
And open door,"
cried Jill, and they went down the steps.
Jack was so tired that he could hardly stand, but when he saw the casks he clapped his hands.
"Quick," he cried, "Abracadabra!"
"What have you done?" called out Jill the next minute. "You said Abracadabra to the thunder-storm cask. They will all be surging out in a minute! Oh, dear! oh, dear! See, this is the drinking-water cask.
"Abracadabra!"
The lid slid open.
She dipped the pail in. "You must not stop to drink now," she said. "Come quickly before the thunder-storms pour out." And without thinking what she was doing, she ran back, past all the casks, saying, "Abracadabra," as quickly as ever she could. Then, with the full pail in her hand, she stumbled up the steps, and Jack after her. She did not wait to shut the trap-door, but ran out of the house half-way down the hill.
Jack tottered after her.
"I must have a drink," he said.
He caught hold of the handle of the pail, and was about to dip in his head when——
Flash! flash! across the sky came the lightning, and then a deafening roar of thunder.
"It's the old Witch!" he cried, dropping the handle of the pail again.
"It's the thunder-storms tumbling out of the cask," said Jill, letting go of her side of the pail too.
They started to run on home, but Jack caught his foot in the handle of the pail as it rolled down the hill. He fell headlong, cutting his head on a stone in the pathway. Jill tried to stop, but somehow got entangled with Jack's feet, and fell headlong too.
All the while the lightning was flashing and the thunder roaring overhead, and then, splash! splash! great drops of rain came pouring down upon them.
How it rained! It splashed down in torrents! Streams and streams of it! Drop after drop, shower after shower, storm after storm.
"I must have opened all the casks at once," said Jill.
Jack lay still where he was, he did not heed his broken head or his drenched clothes.
"Oh, how good the rain is," was all he said.
When, at last, the rain did leave off, those who went to see, found that the old Witch's cottage had been quite washed away. Nothing remained to show where once it had been but one or two rotting casks, and a worn-out elastic bag. The old Witch herself was never seen or heard of in the village again, but she is probably still wandering about somewhere. So don't be too anxious for the rain to leave off, in case she should hear you, and come and steal all your water!