Harding’s Luck, E. Nesbit [summer reads .TXT] 📗

somehow or other. The only really nice thing was when we saw the treasure being hidden, because that looked like a picture and we hadn’t to do anything. And we don’t know where the treasure is, anyhow. And I don’t like adventures nearly so much as I used to think I did. We’re all right and jolly as we are. What I say is, ‘Don’t let’s.’ ”

This cold water damped the spirit of the others only for a few minutes.

“You know,” Elfrida explained to Dickie, “our magic took us to look for treasure in the past. And once a film of a photograph that we’d stuck up behaved like a cinematograph, and then we saw the treasure being hidden away.”

“Then let’s just go where that was⁠—mark the spot, come home and then dig it up.”

“It wasn’t buried,” Elfrida explained; “it was put into a sort of cellar, with doors, and we’ve looked all over what’s left of the Castle, and there isn’t so much as a teeny silver ring to be found.”

“I see,” said Dickie. “But suppose I just worked the magic and wished to be where the treasure is?”

“I won’t,” cried Edred, and in his extreme dislike to the idea he kicked with his boots quite violently against the stones of the tower; “not much I won’t. I expect the treasure’s bricked up. We should look nice bricked up in a vault like a wicked nun, and perhaps forgotten the way to get out. Not much.”

“You needn’t make such a fuss about it,” said Elfrida, “nobody’s going to get bricked up in vaults.” And Dickie added, “You’re quite right, old chap. I didn’t think about that.”

“We must do something,” Elfrida said impatiently.

“How would it be,” Dickie spoke slowly, “if I tried to see the Mouldierwarp? He is stronger than the Mouldiwarp. He might advise us. Suppose we work the magic and just ask to see him?”

“I don’t want to go away from here,” said Edred firmly.

“You needn’t. I’ll lay out the moonseeds and things on the floor here⁠—you’ll see.”

So Dickie made the crossed triangles of moonseeds and he and his cousins stood in it and Dickie said, “Please can we see the Mouldierwarp?” just as you say, “Please can I see Mr. So-and-so?” when you have knocked at the door of Mr. So-and-so’s house and someone has opened the door.

Immediately everything became dark, but before the children had time to wish that it was light again a disc of light appeared on the curtain of darkness, and there was the Mouldierwarp, just as Dickie had seen him once before.

He bowed in a courtly manner, and said⁠—

“What can I do for you today, Richard Lord Arden?”

“He’s not Lord Arden,” said Edred. “I used to be. But even I’m not Lord Arden now. My father is.”

“Indeed?” said the Mouldierwarp with an air of polite interest. “You interest me greatly. But my question remains unanswered.”

“I want,” said Dickie, “to find the lost treasure of Arden, so that the old Castle can be built up again, and the old lands bought back, and the old cottages made pretty and good to live in. Will you please advise me?”

The Mouldierwarp in the magic-lantern picture seemed to scratch his nose thoughtfully with his fore paw.

“It can be done,” he said, “but it will be hard. It is almost impossible to find the treasure without waking the Mouldiestwarp, who sits on the green-and-white checkered field of Ardens’ shield of arms. And he can only be awakened by some noble deed. Yet noble deeds may chance at any time. And if you go to seek treasure of one kind you may find treasure of another. I have spoken.”

It began to fade away, but Elfrida cried, “Oh, don’t go. You’re just like the Greek oracles. Won’t you tell us something plain and straightforward?”

“I will,” said the Mouldierwarp, rather shortly.

“Great Arden’s Lord no treasure shall regain
Till Arden’s Lord is lost and found again.”

“And father was lost and found again,” said Edred, “so that’s all right.”

“Set forth to seek it with courageous face.
And seek it in the most unlikely place.”

And with that it vanished altogether, and the darkness with it; and there were the three children and Tinkler and the white seal and the moonseeds and the sunshine on the floor of the room in the tower.

“That’s useful,” said Edred scornfully. “As if it wasn’t just as difficult to know the unlikely places as the likely ones.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said Dickie. And then the dinner bell rang, and they had to go without Dickie’s telling them what, and to eat roast mutton and plum-pie, and behave as though they were just ordinary children to whom no magic had ever happened. There was little chance of more talk that day.

Edred and Elfrida were to be taken to Cliffville immediately after dinner to be measured for new shoes, and Dickie was to go up to spend the afternoon with Beale and ’Melia and the dogs. Still, in the few moments when they were all dressed and waiting for the dogcart to come round, Dickie found a chance to whisper to Elfrida⁠—

“Let’s all think of unlikely places as hard as ever we can. And tomorrow we’ll decide on the unlikeliest and go there. Edred needn’t be in it if he doesn’t want to. You’re keen, aren’t you?”

“Rather!” was all there was time for Elfrida to say.

The welcome that awaited Dickie at Beale’s cottage from Beale, Amelia, and, not least, the dogs, was enough to drive all thoughts of unlikely places out of anybody’s head. And besides, there were always so many interesting things to do at the cottage. He helped to wash True, cleaned the knives, and rinsed lettuce for tea; helped to dry the tea-things, and to fold the washing when Mrs. Beale brought it in out of the yard in dry, sweet armfuls of white folds.

It was dusk when he bade them good night, embracing each dog in turn, and set out to walk the little way to the crossroads, where the