Buster John was ready to laugh at this, but he soon discovered that Mr. Thimblefinger was right. He found that he could hop and jump ever so far in this queer country, and the first use he made of the discovery was to jump over Drusilla’s head. This he did with hardly any effort. After that the journey of the children, which had grown somewhat tiresome (though they wouldn’t say so), became a frolic. They skimmed along over the gray fields with no trouble at all, but Drusilla found it hard to retain her balance when she jumped high. Mr. Thimblefinger, who had a reason for everything, was puzzled at this. He paused a while and stood thinking and rubbing his chin. Then he said that either Drusilla’s head was too light or her heels too heavy—he couldn’t for the life of him tell which.
There was one thing that bothered the children. If Mr. Thimblefinger’s house was just big enough to fit him (as Buster John expressed it), how could they go inside? Sweetest Susan was so troubled that she asked Drusilla about it. But Drusilla shook her head vigorously.
“Don’t come axin’ me,” she cried. “I done tol’ you all right pine-blank not ter come. Ef de house lil’ like dat creetur is, what you gwine do when night come? En den spozen ’pon top er dat dat a big rain come up? Oh, I tol’ you ’fo’ you started! Who in de name er sense ever heah talk er folks gwine down in a spring? You mought er know’d sump’in gwine ter happen. Oh, I tol’ you!”
There was no denying this, and Sweetest Susan and her brother were beginning to feel anxious, when an exclamation from Mr. Thimblefinger attracted their attention.
“We are nearly there,” he shouted. “Yonder is the house. My! won’t the family be surprised when they see you!”
Sure enough there was the house, and it was not a small one, either. Drusilla said it looked more like a barn than a house, but Buster John said it didn’t make any difference what it looked like so long as they could rest there and get something to eat, for they had had no dinner.
“I hope dey got sho’ ’nuff vittles—pot-licker an’ dumplin’s, an’ sump’in you kin fill up wid,” said Drusilla heartily.
Mr. Thimblefinger, who had been running a little way ahead, suddenly paused and waited for the children to come up.
“Come to think of it,” he remarked, “you may have heard of some of my family. I call them my family, but they are no kin to me. We just live together in the same house for company’s sake.”
“They are not fairies?” suggested Sweetest Susan.