So the boy and the King became great friends, and each night when every one else was a-bed he would steal forth and sit in the chamber of the Pumpkin King. The King thanked him for his care of the royal residence, and told him many things of the vegetable world. But chiefly he talked of the endless feud between the pumpkins and their hereditary enemies, the squashes. Whenever the two came together there was warfare, and when the squashes were more numerous the pumpkins were often defeated. Yonder by the gate dwelt the Squash King, a terrible fellow, of whom the Pumpkin King lived in fear.
“Can I not kill him for you?” said the little boy.
“No, no,” answered the King. “No mortal can destroy a fairy. Things must take their course.”
At this the little boy was very sad, and began to dread all kinds of dangers for his friend the King. Then one day he was taken ill with a cold, and the window was closed at night so that he could not steal out as usual. And as he lay tossing in his bed he heard a great noise in the garden. At once he knew that a terrible battle was raging between the squash and the pumpkin tribes. Alas! he could do nothing to help his friends, so he cried bitterly.
And next morning his father came to his bedside and told him that all the pumpkins had been destroyed, including his big one.
“It was that breechy brindled cow,” said the father. “It must have broken into the garden in the night.”
But the little boy knew better.
As I finished a deep, strongly vibrating voice greeted us.
“What a pretty domestic scene. Didn’t know you had a youngster, Madden. Must congratulate you.”
Looking up I saw Helstern. He was leaning on a stout stick, carved like a gargoyle. All in black, with that mane of iron-grey hair and his keen, stern face he made quite a striking figure. There is something unconsciously dramatic about Helstern; I, on the other hand, am consciously dramatic; while Lorrimer is absolutely natural.