Snow White 2

Snow White 2

CHAPTER II.

 

THE CHILD.

 

 

The child had grown tired of the road. At first it had been delightful

to patter along in the soft white dust, leaving the print of her feet

so clear behind her. She might be a hundred little girls, she thought,

instead of one. The prints reached away back, as far as she could see,

hundreds and hundreds of little trotty feet, each with its toes marked

as plain as if you drew them with a pencil. And the dust felt soft and

smooth, and when you put your foot down it went up puff in the air, and

made little clouds; only when it got in your throat it made you cough

and sneeze, and it was gritty in your eyes, too. By and by, as I said,

she grew tired of this, and it was a new joy to see the little river

that came running along just then.

 

"Running and running, without any feet;

Running and running, and isn't it sweet!"

 

That was what the child sang, for she had a way of singing when she

was alone. Without hesitating, she plumped into the river, and the

water was cool and delicious to her hot little toes. She walked along,

holding her petticoats high, though there was no need of that, as

they were short enough before; splashing just enough to make silver

sparkles at every step. The river did not seem to grow deeper; it was

just precisely made to wade in, the child thought. For some way the

banks were fringed with meadow-rue, and she had to stop every little

while to admire the fluffy white blossoms, and the slender, graceful

stems. Then came alders, stubby and thick, with last year's berries

still clinging here and there to the black twigs. Then, somehow, all

at once there began to be trees along by the river side. The child

had been so absorbed in making sparkles and shouting at them, she had

forgotten the banks for awhile; now, when she looked up, there was no

more meadow-rue. Trees came crowding down to the water's edge; trees

were all about her, ranks upon ranks of them; wherever she looked, she

saw only green rustling tents and waving curtains.

 

"I am in a woods!" said the child. She laughed aloud at the idea, and

looked round again, full of joy and wonder. It was pretty enough,

surely. The woods were not so thick but that sunbeams could find their

way down through the branches, dappling the green gloom with fairy

gold. Here and there the gold lay on the river, too, and that was a

wonderful thing, handfuls of gold and diamonds flung down from the sky,

shimmering and sparkling on a crystal floor; but in other places the

water slept still and black in the shadow, only broken where a stone

humped itself out, shining and mossy, with the silver breaking over it

and running down with cheerful babblings into the soft blackness below.

 

By and by there was a stone so big that its top stood out dry and brown

above the water. It was a flat top, and the child sat down on it, and

gathered her petticoats about her, and let her feet rest in the cool

flowing. That was a great pleasure, to be really part of the brook, or

of the rock. She laughed aloud, suddenly, and kicked a little; till the

bright drops flew over her head; then she began to sing and talk, both

together.

 

"And I comed away,

And I runned away,

And I said I thought I did not

_Want_ to stay!

 

"Well, and if Miss Tyler won't be surprised! she will say 'Oh, dear

me! where _is_ that child?' and then she will look everywhere, and

everywhere, _and_ everywhere, and I won't be nowhere!" She broke out

into a funny little bubbling laugh, and the brook laughed in almost

exactly the same way, so that the child nodded at it, and kicked up the

sparkles again, to show her appreciation.

 

"And then they will send out all over the village, and everybody will

say, 'Oh, yes, we seed that child. We seed her going into the store,

and we seed her going into the house, and we seed her running about all

over the place.' Yes! but, nobody seed me run, and nobody seed me go,

and nobody don't know nothing, and nothing don't nobody know!" and

she bubbled again. This time a green frog came up out of the water and

looked at her, and said "Croak," in an inquisitive tone.

 

"Why did I?" said the child, looking at him sidewise. "Well, if I tell,

won't you tell anybody, never no more? honest Injun? Well, then, I

won't tell you! I don't tell things to frogs!" She splashed a great

splash, and the frog departed in anger.

 

"Huh!" said the child. "He was noffin but an old frog. He wasn't a

fairy; though there _was_ the Frog Prince, you know." She frowned

thoughtfully, but soon shook her head. "No, that wasn't him, I'm sure

it wasn't. He'd have had gold spots on his green, and this frog hadn't

a single one, he hadn't. He wasn't a prince; I'd know a frog that was a

prince, minute I seed him, I 'spect. And he'd say:

 

"'King's daughter youngest, open the door!'

 

"And then I would, and he would come in, and--and--I'd put him in Miss

Tyler's plate, and wouldn't she yellup and jump? and Mamma--"

 

Here the child suddenly looked grave. "Mamma!" she repeated, "Mamma.

Well, she went away and left me first, and that was how it was. When

you leave this kinds of child alone, it runs away, that's what it does;

and Miss Tylers isn't any kind of persons to leave this kinds of child

wiz, anyhow, and so I told them at first.

 

"And I comed away,

_And_ I runned away,

And I said I thought I did not

_Want_ to stay!

And they teared their hair,

And they made despair,

And--and--

And I said I thought perhaps I did not care!

 

"That's a long one. When I come to some fairies I'll make more. When I

am big, I'll talk that way all the time, wiz poetry in it."

 

She was silent for a few minutes, watching the bubbles that came

sailing down the stream. Most of the way they were clear like glass,

with a little rim of foam where they joined on, she thought; but when

they came to a certain place, where a shaft of yellow light came down

and made sparkles on the water, every bubble turned rainbow colour,

most beautiful. Only, some of them would go the wrong way, over into

the shadow.

 

"Hi!" she shouted to them. "Come over here and be rainbows! you are a

stupid, you are! If I was a bubble, I would know enough to come to the

right place, and be a rainbow, yes, I would. I'll kick you, old bubble,

if you go there!" Stretching out her foot, she stretched it a little

too far, and sat down in the stream with a souse. She scrambled out

hastily, but this time on the bank. She had had enough of the brook,

and was red with anger. "You needn't have your old stones so slippery!"

she said. "I needn't have sat on your old stone, anyhow, but I thought

it might be pleased. And my feet was cold, and I won't stay there any

more, not a single minute, so you can make all the noise you want to,

and noffin but frogs will stay in you, and not prince frogs One Bit,

only just common ones, so now!"

 

She shook her head at the brook, and turned away. Then she turned back

again, and her baby forehead clouded.

 

"See here!" said the child. "I 'spect I'm lost."

 

There seemed no doubt about that. There was no sign of a path anywhere.

The still trees came crowding down to the water's edge, sometimes

leaning far over, so that their drooping branches met across the still

pools. On every side were green arcades, long reaches of shimmering

leaves, cool deeps of fern; nothing else. The child had never known

fear, and it did not come to her now. She reflected for a moment; then

her brow cleared. "I must find a House in the Wood!" she announced to

the brook. She spoke with decision, and cheerfulness reigned in her

mind. Of course there was a house somewhere; there always was, in every

wood. Sometimes two children lived in it, and the brother was a white

fawn all day, and turned into a boy at night; that would be fun! and

sometimes it was an old woman--oh, dear, yes, but sometimes that old

woman was a witch, and put you in a chicken-coop, and ate you up when

you were fat. Yes; but you would know that house, because it was all

made of candy and pancakes and things, and you could just run round

behind it, and pull off some pancakes from the shed, p'r'aps, and then

run away as fast as ever you could, and old womans couldn't run half

so fast as children, and so! But the best house, on the whole, would

be the Dwarf House. Yes, that was the one to look for. The house where

seven dwarfs lived, and they had the table all ready set when you came,

and you took a little out of one bowl, and a little out of another

cup; and then they came in and found you asleep, and said, "Who is

this sweet maiden?" and then you stayed and cooked for them, just like

Snow-white, and--and--it was just lovely!

 

"Well, I wish it would be pretty soon!" said the child. "I'm pretty

hungry, I 'spect p'raps."

 

She was a brave child; she was hungry, and her legs and feet ached;

but she pushed on cheerfully, sometimes talking and singing, sometimes

silent, making her way through the tangle of ferns and hanging

branches; following the brook, because there was a little boy in the

newspaper that her papa read, and he got lost, and just he followed the

brook, and it brought him right along to where there were people, and

he had blackberries all the way. She looked for blackberries, but they

are hard to find in early May, except in the Fairy Books. There, as the

child knew very well, you had only to go to the right place and take a

broom and brush away the snow, and there you found strawberries, the

finest that ever were seen, to take home to your sick sister. It was

true that you had to be very good and polite to the proper old woman,

or else you would never find the strawberries; but the child would

be polite, she truly would. She would sweep the old woman's house,

and give her half her own bread--only she had no bread! Here a great

pang of emptiness smote the child; she felt that there was a sob about

somewhere, waiting to get into her throat. It should not come in; she

shook her head, and pressed on. It was all right; God was close by,

anyhow, and he had to take care of children, because he said he would.

So it was all right, only--

 

Suddenly the child stopped; for it _was_ all right. She had found the