II.   HOW THE ELF BROUGHT THE GIANT’S SUPPER.

As the sun grew stronger, the beam shot farther and farther across the Sea of Darkness, until it quite bridged it over, and you may be sure Gillydrop ran as hard as ever he could, so as to reach earth quickly. It was lucky he did make haste, for, just as he alighted on a green lawn near a village, the sun hid himself behind a cloud, and of course the beam vanished.

Having thus arrived, Gillydrop began to look about for two naughty children to take to the Giants’ Country for Dunderhead’s supper. He was very tired, both with his journey across the Sea of Darkness, and with being up all day, which was just the same to him as staying up all night would be to us. As he was anxious to get back to Faeryland, there was no time to be lost, so, instead of going to sleep, he searched all through the village for two naughty children.

Now, in one of the pretty cottages there lived a poor widow, who had two children called Teddy and Tilly, of whom she was very fond, as they were all she had in the world to love. I am sorry to say, however, that Teddy and Tilly were not worthy of their mother’s love, for they were very naughty indeed, and never so happy as when engaged in some mischief. Dame Alice, for that was the name of the poor widow, tried very hard to improve them, but it was really a waste of time, for the harder she tried the worse they became. They tore their nice clean clothes, worried the cat, destroyed the flowers, ate up everything they could lay their hands on, and altogether were a great trouble to their poor mother, who often wondered why her children were so much worse than any one else’s. Dame Alice, however, had still some hope that they would improve, for, having a few friends among the faeries, she had learned that some day both Teddy and Tilly would receive a severe lesson, which would make them the best and most obedient children in the world.

There was a wood, not far from the village, which was said to be enchanted, and Teddy and Tilly were told never to enter it, but this command only made them the more anxious to disobey, and they constantly wandered about the wood, never thinking of the faeries, nor of anything else, except their own pleasure. On the day Gillydrop arrived, they had been in the wood all day, gathering nuts and chasing the squirrels. Now, as it was sundown, they were coming home to their supper, quarrelling dreadfully all the way, which was very naughty of them after spending a pleasant day.

Gillydrop heard them calling each other names, so he peeped out from behind the leaf of a tree, where he was hidden, and, seeing their cross faces, he immediately guessed that they were two children who would do capitally for Dunderhead’s supper, so at once made up his mind how to act.

It was now night, and, as the faeries say, night is caused by the overflowing of the Sea of Darkness, which rises and rises when the sun goes down, until it rolls all over the earth, and any one abroad during the night is in danger of being lost in its black waves. At dawn, however, the sea subsides, and vanishes altogether when the sun appears; but when he sets in the west, it rises once more and spreads over the earth.

Gillydrop had brought with him a withered leaf from the Giants’ Country, which, being enchanted, would expand into a boat, and sail across the Sea of Darkness to the Giants’ Country, for, having come from there, it was bound to return to the tree upon which it had grown.

The Red Elf took this leaf out of his pocket, and immediately it spread out into a great brown carpet, which he placed under a tree in the darkest part, and then went away to entice the children on to it.

Teddy and Tilly came through the wood, quarrelling in a noisy manner, and calling each other ugly names; not a bit afraid of the dark, although they certainly ought to have been.

“You’re eating all the nuts,” bellowed Teddy.

“Well, I gathered them,” shrieked Tilly.

“No, you didn’t; I got most,” whimpered her brother crossly.

“Oh, you story! You didn’t,” retorted Tilly.

And then they called each other more ugly names, and fought and scratched until the whole wood resounded with their noise, and the birds trembled in their nests with fear.

Suddenly, in front of them, they saw a small red ball, glowing like a scarlet coal, and it kept dancing up and down like a restless will-o’-the-wisp.

“Oh, Teddy,” cried Tilly, “look at that pretty ball!”

“It’s mine!” roared greedy Teddy, rushing forward. “I’ll have it.”

“You shan’t!” cried Tilly, running after him. “I’ll get it.”

But the red ball—which was none other than Gillydrop—rolled and rolled in front of the children through the dark wood, and led them deeper and deeper into the forest, until it bounded right on to a brown carpet lying under a great tree, where it lay glowing like a red-hot coal. Teddy and Tilly jumped on to the brown carpet with a scream of delight, thinking they would now seize the ball, when suddenly the sides of the brown leaf curled up, and it lengthened out into a long boat. The darkness under it grew thicker and thicker, the foliage of the tree above vanished, and the two naughty children found themselves in a boat, rolling and tossing on the black waves, with a gloomy, starless sky above them. Away at the end of the boat sat Gillydrop, who had now unrolled himself, and was guiding the magic skiff across the Sea of Darkness towards the Country of the Giants.

“Oh, I want to go home!” cried Tilly, now very frightened.

“And so do I!” roared Teddy, sitting close to her.

As they said this, they both heard a mocking ripple of laughter, and saw the Red Elf dancing with glee at the end of the boat.

“You’ll never go home again,” he cried mockingly, “because you have been naughty, and must be punished.”

“I’ll never be naughty again,” sobbed Tilly.

“No more will I,” echoed Teddy; and they both wept bitterly.

“It’s too late now,” said Gillydrop, shaking his head. “Naughty children always get punished.”

He might have said the same thing about himself; but then he was a faery, and felt ashamed to tell two human beings that he had been as naughty as themselves.

Teddy and Tilly cried dreadfully as they thought of their poor mother waiting for them at home, and of the nice supper of bread and milk which she had prepared for them; but their tears were all of no avail, for the magic boat sailed on and on, though how it moved without sails or oars they could not tell.

At last they saw a faint silver light away in the distance, and a cool breeze blew steadily against them. The light grew larger and larger until it spread everywhere, and they saw the shores of the Giants’ Country, with Dunderhead’s great castle hovering above them. The boat ran right up on to the beach, and then, suddenly turning into a leaf, contracted to a small size and flew away to another beech, but this time the beech was a tree.

The Red Elf vanished as soon as the leaf, and Teddy and Tilly, finding themselves alone in this dreary land, began to cry loudly. It would have been better for them if they had held their tongues, for Dunderhead, hearing two children crying, knew at once that the elf had brought them for his supper, and came down to seize them before they could get away.

“Ah! this is the supper my friend the elf has brought me,” he roared, picking up the children. “I’m so pleased! Now I’ll boil them.”

You may be sure that Teddy and Tilly were in a dreadful fright on hearing this, as they did not want to be boiled; but, in spite of all their cries, Dunderhead took them up to the great hall of his castle, and set them down on the table.

They were so fat and juicy that the Giant cried tears of joy at the prospect of having a good supper, and as his tears gushed out in a great torrent, Gillydrop, who had been waiting for this, plunged into the torrent to get his clothes cleaned again. Much to his dismay, however, the more he washed in the hot tears, the redder grew his clothes, until he was just the colour of the scarlet bean blossom.

“You told me a story,” said Gillydrop to the giant when he saw how red he was getting.

“I know I did,” said Dunderhead, drying his eyes, for he had now wept enough, and was growing hungry; “but if I hadn’t told you a story, I wouldn’t have got any supper. You’ll never be green again, so don’t trouble your head. I’m going to get some wood to cook these nice fat children.”

On hearing this, Teddy and Tilly roared like bulls, and Gillydrop roared too, for he was afraid he would never be able to go back to Faeryland in his red clothes; but the giant only laughed at them, and went out to light a fire under his big kettle.

Gillydrop was naturally very cross with the giant for having deceived him, and determined to punish him for having done so. Bringing the two children to Dunderhead for his supper could not be the kindly deed he had to do, or else he would have turned green again; so Gillydrop made up his mind to take Teddy and Tilly back to earth, and thus leave Dunderhead without his supper. While he was thus making up his mind, seated at one end of the table, the two children, seated at the other end, were crying bitterly at the plight in which they now found themselves, for it certainly is not a nice thing to be boiled for an ogre’s supper.

“Poor mother!” wailed Tilly, weeping; “she’ll miss us so much.”

“I don’t know if she will,” replied Teddy dolefully; “we’ve always been so naughty, I daresay she’ll be glad we’ve gone.”

“Oh no, she won’t,” said Tilly, nodding her head; “she loves us too much for that; but if we could get back I’d be so good.”

“And so would I,” cried Teddy; and then they both wept again, while Gillydrop, seeing their tears, wept also out of sheer sympathy.

“Perhaps the giant will only eat one of us,” said Tilly after a pause; “so while one of us is boiling, the other must run away and go back to comfort mother.”

“Who will be boiled?” asked Teddy sadly. “Will you, Tilly?”

“I don’t like being boiled,” answered Tilly, with a shudder. “I’m sure it isn’t nice.”

“Well, I don’t like being boiled either,” observed Teddy. “Suppose we draw lots who is to run away.”

“Yes, that would be fair,” said Tilly, drying her eyes; “and the one who wins must go back to cheer mother.”

Gillydrop was quite sorry now that he had brought them for Dunderhead’s supper, when he heard how they regretted their mother; so he made up his mind to save them.

“You shall neither of you be boiled,” he said, walking up to them across the table, which was like a large plain. “I will take you back to your mother.”

“But how?” asked Teddy and Tilly, both together. “We cannot go back across the sea alone.”

“Oh yes, you can,” replied the Red Elf. “I brought you here, and can send you back; that is, if I only had a leaf.”

“Here is one,” cried Tilly eagerly, pulling a faded leaf out of her pocket. “I picked it up in the wood to-day, it had such pretty red and yellow colours.”

“Oh, that will do for a boat,” said Gillydrop joyfully.

“But it’s so small,” objected Teddy.

“I’ll make it large enough,” said the elf. “You’ll see.”

“But how can we go on without sails or oars?” said Tilly timidly.

“You don’t need any,” rejoined Gillydrop, laughing; “you know every tree has power to draw back its own leaves. The boat we came in was a leaf, and, as soon as it was launched on the air, it went straight back to the tree in the Country of the Giants upon which it had grown; and as this leaf comes from a tree on earth, it will go straight back to its tree.”

“Then we can get home,” cried Tilly, clapping her hands, “for the tree isn’t far from mother’s cottage.”

“Mind, you are never to be naughty again,” said Gillydrop solemnly.

“Oh, no, no!” cried both children.

“And be very, very good to your mother.”

“Yes, yes! We’ll be very good.”

“Then go down to the beach by the path,” said Gillydrop, spreading his wings. “I’ll fly down and get the boat ready; be quick, or the giant will return.”

Then he flew away through the open window, and Teddy scrambled down the steep path, followed by Tilly, both of them in a great fright lest the giant should catch sight of them and pop them into his big kettle. When they reached the beach, they found Gillydrop had launched the leaf, which had now been transformed into a beautiful red and yellow coloured boat.

“Good-bye,” said Gillydrop, as soon as they were comfortably seated in the boat. “I’m sorry I brought you here, but it will do you no harm, as it will teach you to be good. Mind you don’t quarrel in the boat—if you do, the leaf will vanish, and you’ll sink for ever in the black waves.”

“Oh, we’ll be very, very good,” promised both the children eagerly, and then Gillydrop gave the boat a push, so that it moved rapidly away from the land, leaving him seated on the beach, a lonely little red figure.

Teddy and Tilly were rather afraid at finding themselves alone in the darkness, but they kissed one another, and fell asleep, while the leaf-boat sailed rapidly over the Sea of Darkness towards its parent tree. When the children awoke, they found themselves lying on the ground under the tree, and there above them was their red and yellow boat, hanging, a red and yellow leaf, on a high bough.

“Now we’ll go home,” cried Tilly, jumping up; “now we’ll go home to mother.”

“And be very good,” said Teddy, also rising.

“Yes; very, very good,” replied Tilly. And then, taking one another’s hands, they ran home to their cottage through the dark forest.

Dame Alice, who thought they had lost themselves in the wood, was very glad to see them, and, after she had kissed them, gave them a good supper of bread and milk, which they enjoyed very much, for you see they were very hungry with the long journey.

They told Dame Alice all their adventures, and she was very glad they had gone to the Giants’ Country, for she guessed, like the wise mother she was, that this was the lesson the faeries had foretold.

Ever afterwards, Teddy and Tilly were good children; there never were two such good children, because they thought, if they were not good, they would be taken back to the Giants’ Country and boiled for an ogre’s supper. But after a time they liked to do good actions because they found it pleasant, and Dame Alice was so pleased with their behaviour that she made a rhyme about them, which soon passed into a proverb:

“The magic power of a faery

Cures a child when quite contrary.”