Lady Rum-Di-Doodle-Dum's Children

by Samuel Benjamin Dickson

“Now, what do you think happened as he sang? Across the moor came a large, fat man with a violin case under his arm, and a smile upon his face. He hid in the heather until Andy had stopped singing, then came out and sat down in front of him, and the big man and the small boy talked about music. Then the big man took out his brown old violin and put it to his chin and began to play. Andy leaned back and closed his eyes and discovered the strangest thing! He could see just as well with his eyes closed as with them open. And this is what he saw! First the heather commenced to quiver as though the breeze were blowing from all four sides; then the twigs parted and out came his own fairy, all dressed in brown and gold. She danced a skipping dance on the twigs, then stamped her tiny foot rather impatiently and clapped her hands. The twigs parted again and out came another fairy, a boy fairy, dressed in grey and gold, and he took her hand and they danced together. Then the boy fairy sang the very same song that Andy had sung, and down from the East Wind came a whole world of little fairies, all gold and silver, with spiderweb wings and dresses of every color. They danced here and there and everywhere, the wildest, loveliest dance there ever was. Up and down and backwards and forwards, in circles and fairy rings they swung and then the heather began to sway and the wild rosebush to bend and the green grass to wave and all the fields danced to the fairy measure. Andy jumped up, threw his brown cap into the air, and crowed like a rooster. He folded his arms then and danced with them, a dance that was a jig and a hornpipe and a reel and a minuet all in one. The big man laughed as though he were ashamed and put away his violin and would play no more. But Andy told him how much he loved music, and what do you think? The wonderful man was so pleased that he told Andy to come to him every night and he should learn to play on the violin that was two hundred years old. Andy was so excited that he forgot to feed the pigs that night and hardly ate any bread himself. Off he skipped after dinner to the house across the moor for his first lesson. But when he played it did not sound at all nice. The big man said time would change things, and it was time that spoiled things, after all. Andy learned the C scale and the F sharp scale pretty well. But scales were not the kind of music he had dreamed of and he became tired of practicing. That ended things. He never practiced nor even learned the octave stretch. This was all his own fault, because his fingers were very lively and long, but that would not do any good without training. Finally, one night the big man became discouraged and said there was no use wasting time with a boy who would not help himself, so Andy’s music lessons ended.

“Many years passed and Andy came to California and became a green grocer. His music fairy hated money and business so much that she almost died. One evening in the Spring Andy came home, cross and tired from selling lettuce, and would not talk to his wife or five children at all. He went out into the poppy field and lay down and went to sleep. And there he dreamed the very same dream that had come to him when the big man had played on the moor. Down on the sea breeze came the gold and silver and many-colored fairies and they skipped and danced and bowed and pirouetted in a perfect dance of Spring. Up jumped old Moriarity, forgetting all about his rheumatism, and he danced with the fairies just as he had done when he was a boy. Right in the middle of it, when his face was all red and his eyes burning, out came Mrs. Moriarity and she held her hands on her hips and stared. But all of a sudden she caught Andy’s eye and he laughed, so up she pulled her skirts to her knees and commenced to dance with him, singing at the top of her voice all about Paddy Dear. She made such a noise that out came the five Moriarity children and they could hardly believe their eyes, for they had never seen their mother and father act that way before. But there was no need of worrying; out into the poppy field they skipped and there, by the light of Lady Rumdidoodledum and a million other stars, danced Mr. Moriarity and Mrs. Moriarity and the five little Moriaritys, with oodles and oodles of fairies. All of a sudden Mrs. Moriarity felt a stitch in her side and she stopped and took Mr. Moriarity by the ear and led him into the house. Moriarity’s fairy was so happy that she laughed and wept all night.

“So now, whenever things go a little bit wrong, Moriarity throws aside his vegetable bag, calls his wife and children, and out to the fields they go to dance in the evening light. Moriarity sings Kathleen Mavourneen and Peggy Machree and The Low Back Car, and out come all the fairies and dance, too. Of course, Mr. Moriarity’s voice is still pretty bad, so the cows all moo and the pigs all squeal, but the poppies smile and the wild rose bows and the fairies are happy as happy can be.”

CHAPTER IV

IN WHICH MARTHA MARY INVADES THE CASTLE,
AND FATHER PROVES THAT HE CAN DO OTHER
THINGS BESIDES WRITING BUSINESS IN BIG BOOKS.
ALSO SOMEONE ARRIVES

Father was very busy in his den, with the blinds all drawn and the small log fire lit and a huge stack of papers on his desk. So Martha Mary was rather afraid when she tapped at his door; you see, the Den was Father’s private property, just like a castle, and no outsiders, not even the children, went in very often.

“Who is there?” called Father.

“Please, it is me,” said Martha Mary.

“Who is ‘me’?” demanded Father.

“Martha Mary, and may I come in?”