Half-Past Bedtime Part 1

Half-Past Bedtime.

by H. H. Bashford.

MR JUGG

I

MR JUGG

The name of the town doesn't really matter; but it was a big town in the middle of the country; and the first of these adventures happened to a little girl whose Christian name was Marian. She was only seven when it happened to her, so that it was rather a young sort of adventure; but the older ones happened later on, and this is the best, perhaps, to begin with.

Marian's house was in a street called Peter Street, because there was a church in it called St Peter's Church; and some people liked this church, because it had a great spire soaring up into the sky. But Marian's daddy didn't like spires, because they were so sharp and so slippery. He liked towers better, because the old church towers, he said, were like little laps, ready to catch G.o.d's blessing. But Marian's daddy was a queer sort of man, and n.o.body took much notice of what he said.

At the other end of Peter Street there was a field in which some people were beginning to build houses, and Marian used to love going into this field to watch the builders at work. But one afternoon she became tired of watching them, and so she climbed over a gate into the next field.

Here the gra.s.s was so tall that it tickled Marian's chin. There were great daisies in it, taller than the gra.s.s, and they looked into Marian's eyes. They had calm faces like Marian's mummy's nurney's face, and they didn't mind a bit when Marian picked them. There were also b.u.t.tercups, shiny and fat, like the man in the butcher's shop who was always smiling.

This was such a big field that when Marian came to the middle of it the voices of the builders were quite faint, and the tinkle of their trowels on the edges of the bricks sounded like sheep-bells a long way off. When she turned round she could see the roofs of the houses, and the tops of the chimneys, and the spires of the churches all trembly because of the heat, as if they were tired and wanted to lie down. But they couldn't lie down, although they were so much older and bigger and stronger than Marian. "I'd rather be me," thought Marian, and when she had picked a bundle of flowers she lay down in the deep gra.s.s.

It was so hot that, when once they had become used to her, the stalks of the gra.s.ses stood quite still. She could see hundreds and hundreds of them, like trees in a forest, or people in church waiting for the anthem. Up in the hills it was different. There the gra.s.ses were always moving--not running about, of course, but standing in the same place and bending to and fro, to and fro. Some of them would move, so her father had once told her, as much as four miles in a single day, just as far as it was from Marian's house to the top of Fairbarrow Down.

But here in the valley they weren't moving at all. They weren't even whispering. They were holding their breath; and if they were listening to anything, it was to something that a little girl couldn't hear. She stared into the sky, but it was so blue that it made her eyes ache trying to see how blue it was; and when she closed them, to give them a rest, she could see little patterns on her eyelids. Then she opened them again, and the green of the gra.s.s, as she looked between the gra.s.s blades, was cool like an ointment.

"And n.o.body in the world," she thought, "knows where I am."

She felt a sort of tickle in the middle of her stomach.

"How do you do?" said a voice.

Marian gave a jump. She saw a little man looking up at her. He was not even as tall as an afternoon tea-table.

"What's your name?" he asked. He was very polite. He held his hat in his right hand. Marian told him her name. She wasn't a bit frightened.

"What's yours?" she asked.

"I'm Mr Jugg," he said.

"And who are you, Mr Jugg?" she inquired.

"I'm the King of the b.u.mpies," he replied.

When Marian was puzzled there came a little straight line, exactly in the middle, between her two eyebrows.

"What are b.u.mpies?" she said.

"My hat!" he gasped. "Haven't you ever heard of b.u.mpies?"

Marian shook her head.

"Oh dear, oh dear!" he sighed. "Have you ever heard of angels?"

"Well, of course," said Marian. "Everybody's heard of angels."

"Well then, b.u.mpies," said Mr Jugg, "are baby angels. They're called b.u.mpies till they've learned to fly."

"I see," said Marian, "but why are they called b.u.mpies?"

"Because they b.u.mp," said Mr Jugg, "not knowing how."

Marian laughed.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"If you'd care to come with me," he said, "I could show you."

"Oh, I should love to!" said Marian. "May I?"

He put on his hat and gave her his hand, and helped her to stand up with her bunch of daisies.

"Come along," he said, and he took her across the field, and through a hole in the hedge into the next one. This was a smaller field with some cows in it, and the gra.s.s in it was quite short. He led her across it, and helped her over a gate into the field beyond, where the gra.s.s was shorter still.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm seven," said Marian.

"That's very young," he replied. "I'm seven million."

"Good gracious!" said Marian. "And how old is Mrs Jugg?"

"She's as old as I am," he said, "but she looks younger."

When they came to the middle of this field he stood still and stamped with his foot three and a half times--three big stamps and a little stamp--and then the field suddenly opened. Marian saw a hole at her feet with a lot of steps in it going down, down, down.

"This is where I live," he said. "You needn't be frightened. It's quite safe. I'll lead the way."

He was still holding her hand, and he went down before her, a step at a time, very carefully.

"Isn't it rather dark?" said Marian.

"Wait till I've shut the door," he said, "and then you'll get a surprise."

When both their heads were well below the ground, he tapped twice on the wall; and then the hole was shut so that they couldn't see the sky, and a most wonderful thing happened. They were at the beginning of a long pa.s.sage, almost a mile long, with a lovely slope in it; and on each side of it there were hundreds of little lights, all of different colours.

There were blue lights, and green lights, and yellow lights, and crimson lights, and lights of all sorts of other colours that Marian had never seen or even imagined. Both the walls and the floor of the pa.s.sage were quite smooth, and just where they stood there was a little cupboard.

"This is where I keep my scooter," he said. "It saves time, and there's lots of room on it for two."

He opened the cupboard door and took out a scooter.