Snow White 5

Snow White 5

"Snow-white, why did you run away from home?"

 

"Last night I told you that, dwarf. I made a song, too. I'll sing it

for you."

 

She sat up, folded her hands, shut her eyes tight, and sang at the top

of her voice:

 

"And I comed away,

_And_ I runned away,

And I said I thought I did not

_Want_ to stay;

And they tore their hair,

And they made despair.

And I said I thought perhaps

I did not care."

 

"Do you like that song?" she said, opening her eyes wide at the man.

 

Yes, the man liked it very much, but she was not answering his question.

 

"I sang it that way because that way Miss Tyler sings. She shuts her

eyes and opens her mouth, and screeches horrid; but I don't screech,

I truly sing. Don't I truly sing? Don't you think I was a bird if you

didn't see me? don't you, dwarf?"

 

The dwarf said he was not going to answer any more questions. The child

fidgetted on her seat, sighed, said he was stupid, and finally resigned

herself.

 

"I told you that last night!" she said again. "My mamma went to New

York, and my papa, too. They leaved me alone after I told them not to.

And I told them; I said if they did, then I would; and they would, and

so I did. And so you see!"

 

She looked up suddenly at the man, and once more he winced and drew in

his breath.

 

"What's the matter?" asked the child, with quick sympathy. "Have you

got a pain? is it here? is it in your front? often I have them in

my front. You take a tablet, and then you curl up wiz the hot-water

bottle, and perhaps it goes away pretty soon. Green apples makes it!"

she nodded wisely. "Dwarfs didn't ought to eat them, any more than

children. Where is the tree?"

 

The man did not answer this time. He seemed to be trying to pull up

a weight that lay on him, or in him and sat moodily looking on the

ground. At last--

 

"What is your mother's name?" he said; and then one saw that he had got

the weight up.

 

"Evelyn!" said the child.

 

"Yes, of course!" said the man.

 

"What makes you say that?" asked the child. "Did ever you see her?"

 

"Did ever you see a toad with three tails?" said the man.

 

"Aren't you funny? say, is all dwarfs funny? aren't there really any

more of you? didn't there ever was? where did the rest of them go? why

do you stay in this place alone? I want to know all those things." She

settled herself comfortably, and looked at the man confidently. But he

seemed still to be labouring with something.

 

"Would your mother--would she be very unhappy, if she should come home

and find you gone, Snow-white?"

 

The child opened her eyes at him.

 

"Oh, I s'pose she'd go crazy distracted; but she isn't coming home, not

a long time isn't she coming home; that's why I comed away, _and_ I

runned away, and I said--what makes you look like that, dwarf?"

 

"I suppose I ought to send you home, Snow-white. I suppose you ought to

go this very day, don't you?"

 

He stopped abruptly, for the signs were ominous; the child's lower lip

was going up in the middle and coming down at the corners; her eyes

were growing wider and wider, rounder and rounder; now they began to

glitter.

 

"Don't cry!" said the man, hastily. "Don't cry, Snow-white. The other

Snow-white never cried, you know."

 

The child sniffed tearfully. "The other Snow-white never was treated

so!" she said. "Never those dwarfs tried to send her away, never. She

cooked their dinner, and she swept, and they liked her, and they never

said noffin, and--I haven't any hanky!" she concluded suddenly, after a

vain search in her pink calico pocket.

 

The man handed her a great square of white cobweb linen, and she dried

her eyes. "Never I heard of dwarfs sending children away!" she said, in

conclusion. "I don't believe p'r'aps you aren't the right kind. Is you

got any name? Not ever dwarfs has names."

 

"I'm afraid I have a kind of name!" the man admitted. "But it isn't

much of one. You might call me Mark, though, if you like."

 

"That isn't no name at all. It's just you do it wiz a pencil. Aren't

you funny? Truly is it your name? What made you have such a name?"

 

But the man declared he had lost his way in the questions. "I haven't

begun on this morning's yet," he protested, "and now you are asking me

to-morrow's, Snow-white. But we must do the dishes now, and then I'll

show you where I slept last night. You asked me that the very first

thing this morning, and you have not been still long enough yet for me

to tell you."

 

That would be great! the child thought. On the whole, she thought

perhaps he was the right kind of dwarf, after all. Why did he have

a hump on his back, though? not in the Snow-white picture they did.

Wasn't it funny, when she stood on the cricket she was just as tall

as he? Wasn't that nice? wasn't he glad he wasn't any taller? didn't

he think he was made that way just for little girls? did ever he see

any little girls before? did he think she looked like Snow-white? why

didn't he talk when she spoke to him?

 

It was a merry time, the dish-washing. The man had put away whatever

it was that kept his eyes dark, and was smiling again, and chatting

cheerfully. It appeared that he was an extraordinary person, after all,

and quite like the books. He lived here all alone. Yes, always alone.

No; he never had wanted any one else till now, but then he didn't know

there were any Snow-whites; that made a great difference, you see.

 

Did--she broke off to laugh--did he like Snow-whites, honest and true,

black and blue? Did he think she was beautiful, more beautiful than

wicked stepmothers if she had one, only she hadn't, only mamma was

awfully beautiful; did he know that? how did he know that? did ever he

see mamma? what made him look so queer in his eyes? did he get soap in

them? poor dwarf! well, why weren't there any more dwarfs, anyhow? why

didn't he get six more when he comed here the first time?

 

It appeared that he did not want any more. It appeared that when he

came away he never wished to see anybody again as long as he lived.

 

The child thought this so funny that she bubbled quite over, and

dropped the cup she was wiping back into the hot water.

 

Why didn't he want to see people? had they been horrid to him?

 

Yes, they had been very horrid. He came away into the woods to stay

till he was tired, and then he was going farther away. Where? oh, he

did not know; to wherever he belonged; he was not sure where it was,

but he knew the way to get there. No, not by the brook, that was too

slow, he knew a quick way. Show it to her? well, no, he thought not.

How long had he been here? oh, a good while. At first, after they had

been horrid to him--no, he could not stop to tell her now; sometime,

perhaps, when they had nothing else to do; at first he had gone across

the sea, oh, a long way across; yes, he would tell her all about that

by and by. Then, when he came back--

 

"Why do you keep stopping like that?" asked the child. "Do you forget

what you was going to say? often I do! You said when you came back; did

you go and tell them they was mean old things to be horrid to you, and

never you wouldn't play wiz them no more?"

 

"No," said the man, slowly. "No, Snow-white, I didn't do that; it

wouldn't have done any good, you see. I came here instead."

 

"Didn't you tell them at all that they was mean?"

 

"No; where was the use?"

 

"Don't they know you are here, dwarf?"

 

"No."

 

The child grew red in the face. "Well, I think you was dreadfully

silly!" she said. "I would told 'em all about it, and stamped my foot

at 'em, so! and--"

 

But the stamp was too much for the composure of the cricket, which

turned over at this point, bringing the child down suddenly, with

her chin against the hot dish-pan. This was a grievous matter, and

consolation was the only possible thing to be thought of. The man

took her in his arms, and carried her out-of-doors; she was sobbing a

little, but the sobs died away as he stood with her under the great

buttonwood, and bade her look up into the rustling dome.

 

"You asked where I slept last night, Snow-white," he said. "I slept

up there, in my tree-room. Look! a good way up, just above that great

branch, do you see a hole? Well, in there is a hollow, big enough to

sit in or lie down and sleep in. I often go up there and sit with the

brother birds; and last night I slept there, and very well I slept,

too."

 

"Did you"--the child hesitated between a sob and a chuckle--"did you

have any bed?"

 

"The finest bed in the world, moss and dry leaves. Would you like to

come up and see, Snow-white? I think I can manage to get you up."

 

"Oh, what a nice dwarf you are!" cried the child, slipping down from

his arms and dancing around him. "Aren't you glad I came? I'm glad you

were here. How I shall get up? Stand on your hump? isn't it nice you

have a hump, dwarf? was it made for little girls to stand up on? did

you have them make it? did you think about little girls when you had it