The House of Arden, E. Nesbit [best historical fiction books of all time TXT] 📗

all very well for children, but I know a trick worth two of that.”

She led them into the dining-room, where the sideboard stood covered with silver, set down the candle, lifted down the great salver with the arms of Arden engraved upon it, and put it on the table.

She breathed on the salver and traced triangles and a circle on the drilled surface; and as the mistiness of her breath faded and the silver shone out again undimmed, there, suddenly, in the middle of the salver, was the live white Mouldiwarp of Arden, looking extremely cross!

“You’ve no manners,” it said to the nurse, “bringing me here in that offhand, rude way, without ‘With your leave,’ or ‘By your leave’! Elfrida could easily have made some poetry. You know well enough,” it added angrily, “that it’s positively painful to me to be summoned by your triangles and things. Poetry’s so easy and simple.”

“Poetry’s too slow for this night’s work,” said the nurse shortly. “Come, take the children away, I have done with it.”

“You make everything so difficult,” said the Mouldiwarp, more crossly than ever. “That’s the worst of people who think they know a lot and really only know a little, and pretend they know everything. If I’d come the easy poetry way, I could have taken them back as easily. But now⁠—Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll take them back, of course, but it’ll be a way they won’t like. They’ll have to go on to the top of the roof and jump off.”

“I don’t believe that is necessary,” said the witch nurse.

“All right,” said the Mouldiwarp, “get them away yourself then,” and it actually began to disappear.

“No, no!” said Elfrida, “we’ll do anything you say.”

“There’s a foot of snow on the roof,” said the witch nurse.

“So much the better,” said the Mouldiwarp, “so much the better. You ought to know that.”

“You think yourself very clever,” said the nurse.

“Not half so clever as I am,” said the Mouldiwarp, rather unreasonably Elfrida thought. “There!” it added sharply as a great hammering at the front door shattered the quiet of the night. “There, to the roof for your lives! And I’m not at all sure that it’s not too late.”

The knocking was growing louder and louder.

X White Wings and a Brownie

Perhaps I had better begin this chapter by telling you exactly how Edred “got even with old Parrot-nose,” as he put it. You will remember that Master Parados was the Ardens’ tutor in the time of King James I, and that it was through his eavesdropping and talebearing that Edred and Elfrida were imprisoned in the Tower of London. There was very little time in which to get even with anyone, and, of course, getting even with people is not really at all a proper thing to do. Yet Edred did it.

Edred had got Elfrida out of the Tower just as Lady Nithsdale got her lord out, and now he and she and Cousin Richard were at Arden House, in Soho, and the old nurse, who was also, astonishingly, the old witch, had said that there was no time to be lost.

“But I must be even with old Parrot-nose,” said Edred. He was feeling awfully brave and splendid inside, because of the way he had planned and carried out the Nithsdale rescue of Elfrida; and also he felt that he could not bear to go back to his own times without somehow marking his feelings about Mr. Parados.

As to how it was to be done. Cousin Richard was not to have anything to do with it, because while they would be whisked away by some white road that the Mouldiwarp would find for them when they called it to their help by spoken poetry, he would be left behind to bear the blame of everything. This Edred and Elfrida decided in a quick-whispered conference, but Cousin Dick wanted to know what they were talking about, and why he wasn’t to help in what he had wanted to do these four years.

“If we tell you,” said Elfrida, “you won’t believe us.”

“You might at least make the trial,” said Cousin Richard.

So they told him, and though they were as quick as possible, the story took some time to tell. Richard Arden listened intently. When the tale was told he said nothing.

“You don’t believe it,” said Edred; “I knew you wouldn’t. Well, it doesn’t matter. What can we do to pay out old Parrot-nose?”

“I don’t like it,” said Richard suddenly; “it’s never been like this before. It makes it seem not real. It’s only a dream really, I suppose. And I always believed so that it wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” said Edred, “but what we’ve been saying’s true anyhow. Look here.” He darted to the dark corner of the parlour, where he had hidden the camera behind a curtain. “Look here, I bet you haven’t got anything like this. It comes from our times, ever so far on in history⁠—out of the times where we come from⁠—the times that haven’t happened yet⁠—at least now we’re here they haven’t happened yet. You don’t know what it is. It’s a machine for the sun to make pictures with.”

“Oh, stow that,” said Richard wearily. “I know now it’s all a silly dream. But it’s not worth while trying to dream that I don’t know a Kodak when I see it. That’s a Brownie!”

There was a pause, full of speechless amazement.

Then⁠—“If you’ve dreamed about our times,” said Elfrida, “you might believe in us dreaming about yours. Did you dream of anything except Brownies? Did you ever dream of fine carriages, fine boats, and⁠—”

“Don’t talk as if I were a baby,” Richard interrupted. “I know all about railways and steamboats, and the Hippodrome and the Crystal Palace. I know Kent made 615 against Derbyshire last Thursday. Now, then⁠—”

“But I say. Do tell us⁠—”

“I shan’t tell you anything more. But I’ll help you to get even with Parrot-nose. I don’t care if