The Enchanted Castle, E. Nesbit [books to read fiction .txt] 📗

Ugly-Wuglies were something more than mere coats and hats and sticks. They had rushed out upon him, and had done this. He lay there insensible⁠—was it a golf-club or a hockey-stick that had made that horrible cut on his forehead? Gerald wondered. The girls had rushed to the sufferer; already his head was in Mabel’s lap. Kathleen had tried to get it on to hers, but Mabel was too quick for her.

Jimmy and Gerald both knew what was the first thing needed by the unconscious, even before Mabel impatiently said: “Water! Water!”

“What in?” Jimmy asked, looking doubtfully at his hands, and then down the green slope to the marble-bordered pool where the water-lilies were.

“Your hat⁠—anything,” said Mabel.

The two boys turned away.

“Suppose they come after us,” said Jimmy.

“What come after us?” Gerald snapped rather than asked.

“The Ugly-Wuglies,” Jimmy whispered.

“Who’s afraid?” Gerald inquired.

But he looked to right and left very carefully, and chose the way that did not lead near the bushes. He scooped water up in his straw hat and returned to Flora’s Temple, carrying it carefully in both hands. When he saw how quickly it ran through the straw he pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket with his teeth and dropped it into the hat. It was with this that the girls wiped the blood from the bailiff’s brow.

“We ought to have smelling salts,” said Kathleen, half in tears. “I know we ought.”

“They would be good,” Mabel owned.

“Hasn’t your aunt any?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Don’t be a coward,” said Gerald; “think of last night. They wouldn’t hurt you. He must have insulted them or something. Look here, you run. We’ll see that nothing runs after you.”

There was no choice but to relinquish the head of the interesting invalid to Kathleen; so Mabel did it, cast one glaring glance round the rhododendron bordered slope, and fled towards the castle.

The other three bent over the still unconscious bailiff.

“He’s not dead, is he?” asked Jimmy anxiously.

“No,” Kathleen reassured him, “his heart’s beating. Mabel and I felt it in his wrist, where doctors do. How frightfully good-looking he is!”

“Not so dusty,” Gerald admitted.

“I never know what you mean by good-looking,” said Jimmy, and suddenly a shadow fell on the marble beside them and a fourth voice spoke⁠—not Mabel’s; her hurrying figure, though still in sight, was far away.

The children looked up⁠—into the face of the eldest of the Ugly-Wuglies, the respectable one. Jimmy and Kathleen screamed. I am sorry, but they did.

“Hush!” said Gerald savagely: he was still wearing the ring. “Hold your tongues! I’ll get him away,” he added in a whisper.

“Very sad affair this,” said the respectable Ugly-Wugly. He spoke with a curious accent; there was something odd about his r’s, and his m’s and n’s were those of a person labouring under an almost intolerable cold in the head. But it was not the dreadful “oo” and “ah” voice of the night before. Kathleen and Jimmy stooped over the bailiff. Even that prostrate form, being human, seemed some little protection. But Gerald, strong in the fearlessness that the ring gave to its wearer, looked full into the face of the Ugly-Wugly⁠—and started. For though the face was almost the same as the face he had himself painted on the school drawing-paper, it was not the same. For it was no longer paper. It was a real face, and the hands, lean and almost transparent as they were, were real hands. As it moved a little to get a better view of the bailiff it was plain that it had legs, arms⁠—live legs and arms, and a self-supporting backbone. It was alive indeed with a vengeance.

“How did it happen?” Gerald asked, with an effort of calmness⁠—a successful effort.

“Most regrettable,” said the Ugly-Wugly. “The others must have missed the way last night in the passage. They never found the hotel.”

“Did you?” asked Gerald blankly.

“Of course,” said the Ugly-Wugly. “Most respectable, exactly as you said. Then when I came away⁠—I didn’t come the front way because I wanted to revisit this sylvan scene by daylight, and the hotel people didn’t seem to know how to direct me to it⁠—I found the others all at this door, very angry. They’d been here all night, trying to get out. Then the door opened⁠—this gentleman must have opened it and before I could protect him, that underbred man in the high hat⁠—you remember⁠—”

Gerald remembered.

“Hit him on the head, and he fell where you see him. The others dispersed, and I myself was just going for assistance when I saw you.”

Here Jimmy was discovered to be in tears and Kathleen white as any drawing-paper.

“What’s the matter, my little man?” said the respectable Ugly-Wugly kindly. Jimmy passed instantly from tears to yells.

“Here, take the ring!” said Gerald in a furious whisper, and thrust it on to Jimmy’s hot, damp, resisting finger. Jimmy’s voice stopped short in the middle of a howl. And Gerald in a cold flash realized what it was that Mabel had gone through the night before. But it was daylight, and Gerald was not a coward.

“We must find the others,” he said.

“I imagine,” said the elderly Ugly-Wugly, “that they have gone to bathe. Their clothes are in the wood.”

He pointed stiffly.

“You two go and see,” said Gerald. “I’ll go on dabbing this chap’s head.”

In the wood Jimmy, now fearless as any lion, discovered four heaps of clothing, with broomsticks, hockeysticks, and masks complete all that had gone to make up the gentlemen Ugly-Wuglies of the night before. On a stone seat well in the sun sat the two lady Ugly-Wuglies, and Kathleen approached them gingerly. Valour is easier in the sunshine than at night, as we all know. When she and Jimmy came close to the bench, they saw that the Ugly-Wuglies were only Ugly-Wuglies such as they had often made. There was no life in them. Jimmy shook them to pieces, and a sigh of relief burst from Kathleen.

“The spell’s broken, you see,” she said; “and that old gentleman, he’s real. He only happens to be like