24. More Telling of Fairy Stories
PETER VISITS THE STRANGE LITTLE OLD MAN'S WORKSHOP
Over a week had passed since Peter's ride in the strange little old man's sleigh, but the little man had not come again. Peter was beginning to fear that he might never return. One afternoon, however, just as the early winter twilight began to darken the great forest, the jingling of sleighbells was heard in front of the toymaker's hut.
"Whoa, Dasher! Steady, Dancer! Whoa, Prancer!" was what Peter heard as he pressed his face against the windowpane. Yes, there were the reindeer, and there, bundled up to his chin in furs, was the strange little old man. He saw Peter at once and made signs to the boy to come along with him. Peter could not put on his cap and coat fast enough. In less than a minute he had climbed into the sleigh, tucked himself in snugly, and was flying over the frozen, snow-covered ground by the side of his strange companion. Soon they had left the lighted hut far behind them and were making their way through the woods on an old logging road that Peter knew. After a while, however, they reached parts of the forest that Peter had never seen. Here grew trees whose names he had never heard. Now and then he caught glimpses of animals that were unlike any of those with which he was familiar. Peter was so much interested in these that he hardly noticed the great building, the little man's workshop, until the sleigh had stopped before the main door of it. But then he forgot everything else. The big shop was brightly lighted in every story, and the steady hum of machinery filled the evening air.
"We're working overtime now," explained the little man. "You see, Christmas is near."
The humming grew louder and the lights seemed a great deal brighter, as they entered the building. Peter was much excited. When the inner doors were opened, and Peter stood in the great roaring workshop itself, he could hardly believe his eyes. Before him, in long rows, he saw a thousand pounding and buzzing machines, all running at full speed. Ten thousand workbenches stood in orderly rows beyond the machines. The unending room fairly swarmed with busy workmen, like a hive over-flowing with bees. And such workmen! Each wore a green coat and a red cap, decorated with a white owl's feather. Each was no higher than Peter's knee. They were fairies.
As he stood there, trying to understand it all, troop after troop of the fairies passed him. They were pushing long, high baskets, that stood on wheels. Down the long room they rolled these and through a great double swinging door at the other end. These baskets were filled to the top with playthings. Some held dolls, some sleds, some drums. Others were full of various kinds of musical instruments. Still others gave forth the pleasantest smells. They contained cookies and ginger snaps and all sorts of Christmas goodies.
"Why, they are all Christmas things!" cried Peter in great surprise, turning to the strange little old man at his side. But the strange little old man was gone, and Peter stood alone in the doorway of this wonderful Christmas workshop.
Before he could decide what to do, a group of little workmen called him by name, as pleasantly as if they had known him all his life.
"Peter, come and help us with this basket!"
"I will," answered Peter.
He was glad to join in the work. Hanging coat and cap on a near-by hook, he put his shoulder against one of the heavy baskets. Soon he had it rolling merrily down the long aisle. Past machines that sawed boards he pushed it, past planing wheels, past long rows of benches where the workers were hammering or gluing or painting, past wide ovens where the little bakers were busy over hundreds of pans of frosted gingerbread—on and on, down the great room he pushed it so fast that his wee comrades were almost left behind. As he passed machines and benches and ovens, the workmen looked up from their work an instant. They smiled at the newcomer.
"When you get through with that," shouted the workmen at the saws, "come and help us with these boards."
"All right, I will," said Peter as he moved along with his basket.
"When you get through with the sawing," cried the planers, "come and help us."
Peter smiled at them. "I will," he shouted back as loud as he could, so as to be heard above the noise of the machinery.
"When you finish planing," the painters called to him next, "come and help us."
"I will," Peter replied. "I like to paint, anyway."
Now he passed the bakers. They tossed him a cooky. "When you finish painting," they said, "perhaps you will come and help us."
"That I gladly will," answered Peter in his pleasantest tone. It was quieter here, and he did not need to shout.
At last he reached the double swinging door. Through this he had seen basket after basket disappear before him. Here was the storeroom. It was even larger than the workroom. The walls were lined with shelves, on which were placed the Christmas things. This was an interesting place, but Peter had no time to stay. He was eager to help at the machine saws, at the planing machines, at the workbenches, and in the bakeshop. So he hurried back to these. He did first one thing, then another, as he was needed. He was used to work and liked to help.
The fairies were careful workers and jolly comrades. Now and then they sang as they worked. Then the machines themselves, like the fingers and arms and legs of the workmen, seemed to move faster and the work to be easier.
Suddenly a loud but very pleasant whistle sounded through the mighty workshop. It was the signal for a recess. The machines stopped. The fairies laid down their tools and brushes. All was quiet for a time. Now another kind of fun began. The fairies started various games. They formed rings and danced round and round as they sang:
"Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho!
As the light-hearted fairy? heigh ho,
Heigh ho!"
They played at guessing riddles. These were about toys.
"You see," whispered a fairy who explained everything to Peter, "when the snow comes, and Christmas is near, we leave our homes in the woods and spend our winters making toys for all the good children in the world. Sometimes we cannot make all the toys we need, but we do not wish a single child anywhere to be without a Christmas."
Peter soon learned that the fairies took pride in speaking correctly. Those who sometimes made mistakes played special games to help themselves get over bad speaking habits. At one place they stood like soldiers in a row and pronounced words that were printed on the board.
"Don't you sometimes wish for the woods and moonlight nights?" asked Peter.
He could not hear the answer. At a signal the machinery had started again. The fairies were hurrying back to their places. Peter took his place with the rest. He worked steadily at one job and another. The time flew by. Another whistle blew, and it was time to stop for the day. Then the strange little old man appeared.
"It's time for you to go back home," he said. "Should you like to be here always?"
"Oh, yes," answered Peter. "But I have pleasant work to do at home too."
The strange little old man took a ring from his pocket and held it up before the boy's eager face.
"You are the kind of boy I like," he said. "You are willing to help and work. Take this ring home with you. I give it to you. It is a magic ring. Wear it on Christmas Day. On that day wish any one thing you please. The ring will get it for you."
While he was talking they had walked to the main door of the building. Peter had put on his cap and coat. Now the door stood open, and they said good-bye. Peter walked slowly down the steps, staring at the magic ring on his finger. When he reached the last step, he turned and looked back. In the doorway stood the strange little old man, watching him. Peter thought he looked different. Yes, he seemed taller and stouter than before. He seemed jollier. Peter glanced at the red cap, red coat, and leather leggings he wore. He noticed the laughing face, the twinkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and white beard.
