“Because,” replied Sweet William calmly, “he is every bit as much a fairy as I am.”
“A fairy! What fairy?” cried Philomène, jumping off the stool in her excitement.
“What fairy? Why, Master Mustardseed, of course. Haven’t you been writing about him only this very afternoon? Just you listen to a piece of good advice. When next you are left alone for any length of time, get as near as ever you can to his cage. And now good-bye for the present, for I am still up to my eyes in work.”
“Goodbye,” said Philomène, and she felt in her pocket to make sure that the key was still there.
CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH THE HEROINE TAKES ADVICE
Philomène ran down the garden walk, her mind in a turmoil. Queen Mab was trotting to meet her along the path, and as soon as she caught sight of her pet, she knelt down on the gravel and held out her arms to it. “O Queen Mab, Queen Mab,” she cried, “I am so happy! It seems it doesn’t matter being ordinary, if only the Good People love one.” The cat had scrambled upon her lap in an instant, and was rubbing a white velvety head against her arm, and licking her hand with a little tongue as rough as it was red. Philomène carried her pussy into the schoolroom, and set it down on the bearskin hearth-rug; then she glanced curiously at the canary in his cage, but he was pecking at the seeds in his seed-trough, and took no notice of her.
Before nightfall it rained. Nurse said it was because Lilian Augusta had sung “Summer suns are glowing” that morning, which, she declared, invariably brought on wet weather. The next day it went on raining, but despite the downpour Miss Mills happened to be in a good humour, and this was just as well, for it was the turn of what Philomène called “the little speckled book,” and it is not easy to give your attention to little speckled books when your thoughts are full of fairies. “The World and All About It” was a very plump little volume, and the squatness of its figure was only equalled by the omniscience of its author. It explained at the beginning who had made the world and why; it gave the exact date for the invention of pottery, and described the best way of handling chopsticks. Philomène had just been learning all about the chameleon, and of how by changing its colour it escapes the notice of its enemies.
“Does not this show the care which Providence takes of all its creatures?” demanded Miss Mills.
“I suppose so,” replied Philomène, thoughtfully.
“Don’t say, ‘I suppose so,’” returned Miss Mills, “the answer in the book is Yes.” But the rebuke was given gently and with a smile, and Philomène was gladder than ever of this easy-going mood when it came to the Scripture lesson, which was her weekly nightmare. For when Miss Mills taught the Scriptures she succeeded in making them as dry as the biscuit which the Red Queen gave to Alice. “Thirst quenched, I hope?” said the Red Queen, and happily did not wait for an answer.