“Why was I not born to have a white pony [[163]]and a servant following me?” grumbled the youth, lashing the bushes with his whip in a savage way. “I’m quite as good as he is, and bigger and stronger. Who is he to ride while I have to walk in the dust and heat? Ah, I wish—but what’s the use of wishing, I should like to know? I’m always wishing for something or other, and I never get what I wish for. Now if I could only come across the elves that grandad talks about, I’d ask them for a wishing-cap. Then I could have all I want.” And there Johnny paused and fell into a reverie, which lasted until he reached the wood market with his team.
Often during the long winter nights the old wood-cutter had talked to his grandson of the fairies, the good little people, light as the thistledown, and beautiful as innocence, dwelling in the bell flowers, drinking the dew for nectar, and happy, ay, as happy as the moonlight night was long. Not far from the hut there were several mossy ridges where, it was said, the elves danced at night and made merry.
The boy had wished to see them. How high were they? About as tall as a sugar-stick? Why, he had an idea that it would be quite easy to capture a whole army of them, and take them home as securely as blackfish out of the creek. [[164]]
Returning home, Johnny again met the son of Sir Anthony Woolcrop with a little lady by his side, mounted on a cream-coloured pony. And the little wood-carter agreed within himself that it was a shame, and resolved to seek out the fairies that very night.
So, in not the very best of tempers, and the very lowest of spirits, our hero went out to the moss ridges to seek the wishing-cap. He lay down on the soft green carpet, and kept very quiet until he heard the great clock at the post-office boom twelve; then he heard a rustic and a bustle, and voices—not so loud as the buzz of a blue-bottle, and laughter scarcely so distinct as the chirp-chirp of a canary; but he knew it was the elves, and his heart went thump! thump!
Presently he ventured to look round him. The moon was shining—as it only can shine in Australia—and by its light he saw the gayest company of miniature beings you can possibly imagine dancing merrily. Time would fail to tell you how beautiful they all were, how gaily dressed, how courteous to each other, and how graceful in every motion. Johnny rubbed his hands and fancied he was dreaming; he stretched out his hand and ran it into a lot of prickles, and that quite convinced him he was wide awake. The pain caused him [[165]]to cry out, and instantly the ball became a rout. The fairies fled in great haste, some hiding themselves in the cracks and fissures of the ridges, some burying themselves under the fallen leaves, all escaping save one, and he got his feet entangled in a large ant-hole, and could do nothing but wriggle and cry out.
‘THE FAIRIES FLED IN GREAT HASTE.’
Johnny Grudge rose to his feet, and hastened to the rescue; yet when he beheld the wee creature our hero stood quite still and did not attempt to help him. [[166]]
“Pray assist me out of this nasty hole; the ants are beginning to bite me,” quoth the fairy.