“Auntie,” he said seriously, “perhaps you can tell me better than Olive can. Are there really countries of dwarfs, and are they a kind of fairies, Auntie?”
Auntie looked rather puzzled.
“Dwarfs, Rex?” she said; “countries of dwarfs! How do you mean?”
Olive hastened to explain. Auntie was very much amused.
“Certainly,” she said, “we have already seen so many strange things in our travels that it is better not to be too sure what we may not see. But any way, Rex, you may be quite easy in your mind, that if ever you come across any of the dwarfs, you will find them very good-natured and amiable, only you must be very respectful—always say ‘Sir,’ or ‘My lord,’ or something like that to them, and bow a great deal. And you must never seem to think anything they do the least odd, not even if they propose to you to walk on your head, or to eat roast fir-cones for dinner, for instance.”
Auntie was quite young—not so very much older than Olive—and very merry. Olive’s rather “grown-up” tones and manners used sometimes to tempt her to make fun of the little girl, which, to tell the truth, Olive did not always take quite in good part. And it must for Olive be allowed, that Auntie did sometimes allow her spirits and love of fun to run away with her a little too far, just like pretty unruly ponies, excited by the fresh air and sunshine, who toss their heads and gallop off. It is great fun at first and very nice to see, but one is sometimes afraid they may do some mischief on the way—without meaning it, of course; and, besides, it is not always so easy to pull them up as it was to start them.
Just as Auntie finished speaking the door opened and their uncle came in. He was Auntie’s elder brother—a good deal older—and very kind and sensible. At once all thoughts of the dwarfs or what Auntie had been saying danced out of Rex’s curly head. Like a true boy he flew off to his uncle, besieging him with questions as to what sort of a carriage they were to go on in—was it an ox-cart; oh, mightn’t they for once go in an ox-cart? and might he—oh, might he sit beside the driver in front?
His uncle laughed and replied to his questions, but Olive stayed beside the sofa, staring gravely at her aunt.
“Auntie,” she said, “you’re not in earnest, are you, about there being really a country of dwarfs?”