The Tapestry Room Part 20

"They were fairy b.a.l.l.s, you know, Cheri," she said, gravely.

"Yes," Hugh replied, "he knew they were; he did not expect such b.a.l.l.s as they were, of course, but still he didn't see why they might not get some sort of gold-looking b.a.l.l.s. There were red and blue, and green ones in plenty. He didn't see why there should be no gold ones."

"Gold is so very dear," said Jeanne.

"Yes, real gold is, of course," said Hugh; "but there are lots of things that look like gold that can't be real gold--picture frames, and the edges of books, and lots of other things."

"Yes," said Jeanne, "but still, I don't see that the stuff any of those are made of would do to make b.a.l.l.s of."

However, she joined Hugh in the search, and many a day when they were out they peeped together not only into the toy-shops, but into the windows of the queer old curiosity shops, of which, in the ancient town which was Jeanne's home, there were many. And at last one day they told Marcelline what it was they were so anxious to find. She shook her head.

There was no such toy in _this_ country, she said, but she did not laugh at them, or seem to think them silly. And she advised them to be content with the prettiest b.a.l.l.s they _could_ get, which were of nice smooth buff-coloured leather, very well made, and neither too soft nor too hard. And in the sunlight, said Jeanne, they really had rather a shiny, goldy look.

For several days to come these b.a.l.l.s were a great interest to the children. Early and late they were practising at them, and, with patience and perseverance, they before long arrived at a good deal of skill. Jeanne was the quicker in the first place, but Hugh was so patient that he soon equalled her, and then the interest grew still greater.

"I really think, Cheri," said Jeanne, one evening, when they had been playing for a good while, "I really think our b.a.l.l.s are _getting_ to be rather like fairy ones. Every day they go better and better."

"Perhaps it is our hands that are getting to be like fairy ones," said Hugh. "But it is growing too dark to see to play any more."

They were playing in the tapestry room, for Marcelline had told them they would have more s.p.a.ce there, as it was large, and Hugh's little bed in the corner did not take up much room. It was getting dusk, for the days were not yet very long, though winter was almost over, and they had been playing a good while. As Hugh spoke he gave the last ball a final throw high up in the air, higher than usual, for though Jeanne sprang forward to catch it, she missed it somehow. It dropped to the ground behind her.

"O Cheri!" she cried, reproachfully, "that is the first time I have missed. Oh dear, where can the ball have gone to?"

She stooped down to look for it, and in a minute Hugh was down beside her. They felt all about, creeping on their hands and knees, but the missing ball was not to be so easily found.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'IS THIS A NEW PART OF THE HOUSE?'--p. 201.]

"It must have got behind the tapestry," said Hugh, pulling back as he spoke, a corner of the hangings close to where he and Jeanne were, which seemed loose. And at the same moment both children gave a little cry of astonishment. Instead of the bare wall which they expected to see, or to feel rather, behind the tapestry, a flight of steps met their view--a rather narrow flight of steps running straight upwards, without twisting or turning, and lighted from above by a curious hanging lamp, hanging by long chains from a roof high up, which they could not see.

"Why, is this a new part of the house?" cried Hugh. "Jeanne, did you know there were stairs behind the tapestry?"

"No, of course not," said Jeanne. "It must be a part of our house, I suppose, but I never saw it before. Shall we go up, Cheri, and see where it takes us to? Perhaps it's another way to the white lady's turret, and she'll tell us another story."

"No," said Hugh, "I don't believe it leads to her turret, and I don't think we could find our way there again. She seemed to mean we could never go again, I think. But we may as well go up this stair, and see what we do find, Jeanne."

And just at that moment a funny thing happened. They heard a little noise, and looking up, there--hopping down the stair before them, step by step, as if some one had started it from the top, came the lost ball, or what the children thought the lost ball, for with an exclamation Hugh darted forward to pick it up, and held it out to Jeanne. But Jeanne looked at it with astonishment.

"Why, Cheri," she cried, "it's turned into gold."

So it was, or at least into something which looked just like it.

"Cheri," Jeanne went on, her eyes dancing with excitement, "I do believe this is another way into Fairyland, or into some other queer place like what we've seen. Come on, quick."

The children seized hold of each other's hands, and hurried up the stair. The steps were easier to mount than those of the corkscrew staircase up to the white lady's turret, and very soon the children found themselves at the top of the first flight. There, looking upwards, they could see the roof. It was a sort of cupola; the chains from which the lamps hung were fastened to the centre, but the rest of the roof was of gla.s.s, and through it the children saw the sky, already quite dark, and with innumerable stars dotting its surface.

"Come on, Cheri," said Jeanne; "I believe this stair leads out on to the roof of the house."

So it did. A door at the top opened as they ran up the last steps, and a familiar figure stepped out.

"Dudu!" exclaimed Jeanne, in a tone of some disappointment.

"Did you not expect to see me?" said the raven. "Why, I thought it would amuse you to come up here and see the stars."

"So it will," said Hugh, anxious to make up for Jeanne's abruptness.

"But, you see, we thought--at least we hoped--we should find some new adventures up here, especially when the ball hopped down the stairs, all gold."

"What did you expect?" said Dudu, c.o.c.king his head. "Fairies, I suppose, or enchanted princesses, or something of that kind. What creatures children are for wonders, to be sure."

"Now, Dudu," said Jeanne, "you needn't talk that way. Whether we're fond of wonders or not, anyhow it's you that's given us them to be fond of.

It was you that sent us to the frogs' country, and all that, and it was you that took us to hear the white lady's story. So you're not to laugh at us, and you must find us some more adventures, now you've brought us up here."

"Adventures don't grow on every tree, Mademoiselle Jeanne," remarked Dudu.

"Well, _Dudus_ don't either," replied Jeanne; "but as we've got _you_, you see, it all depends on you to get us the adventures. I know you can, if you like."

Dudu shook his head.

"No," he said, "there are many things I can't do. But come out on to the roof, we can talk there just as well."

He just turned towards the door by which he had entered, and it opened of itself. He hopped through, and the children followed him. They found themselves, as Dudu had said, on the roof of the house, of a part of the house, that is to say. It seemed more like the roof of a little tower or turret.

Hugh and Jeanne stood for a moment or two in silence, looking up at the brilliant show of stars overhead. It was not cold, the air seemed peculiarly fresh and sweet, as if it were purer and finer than that lower down.

"It's rather nice up here, eh?" said Dudu.

"Yes, very," replied Hugh. "We're very much obliged to you for bringing us up here. Aren't we, Jeanne?"

"Yes," said Jeanne, "not counting fairies and adventures that's to say, it's very nice up here."

"I often come up here at night," said Dudu. "I wonder how many thousand times I've been up here."

"Are you so very old, Dudu?" said Jeanne, "as old as the white lady?"

"I daresay," said Dudu, vaguely--he seemed to be thinking to himself.

"Yes," he continued, c.o.c.king his head on one side, "I suppose I am what _you_ would call very old, though the white lady would consider me quite a baby. Yes, I've seen queer things in my time."

"_What?_" said the children both together, eagerly, "oh, do tell us some of them. If you would tell us a story, Dudu, it would be as nice as an adventure."

"Stories," said Dudu, "are hardly in my line. I might tell you a little of some things I've seen, but I don't know that they would interest you."

"Oh yes! oh yes!" cried the children, "of course they would. And it's so nice and warm up here, Dudu--much warmer than in the house."

"Sit down, then," said Dudu, "here, in this corner. You can lean against the parapet,"--for a low wall ran round the roof--"and look at the stars while you listen to me. Well--one day, a good long while ago you would consider it, no doubt----"

"Was it a hundred years ago?" interrupted Jeanne.

"About that, I daresay," said the raven carelessly. "I cannot be quite exact to twenty or thirty years, or so. Well, one day--it was a very hot day, I remember, and I had come up here for a little change of air--I was standing on the edge of the parapet watching our two young ladies who were walking up and down the terrace path down there, and thinking how nice they looked in their white dresses and blue sashes tied close up under their arms, like the picture of your great-grandmother as a young girl, in the great salon, Mademoiselle Jeanne."

"Oh yes, I know it," said Jeanne. "She has a nice face, but _I_ don't think her dress is at all pretty, Dudu."