The Enchanted Castle by E. Nesbit (smart ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Respecting the emotion of their guest, the kindly charcoal-burners withdrew,” said Gerald. And they closed the door softly from the outside on Mabel and her search.

They waited for hers of course politeness demanded it, and besides, they had to stay at home to let Mademoiselle in; though it was a dazzling day, and Jimmy had just remembered that Gerald’s pockets were full of the money earned at the fair, and that nothing had yet been bought with that money, except a few buns in which he had had no share. And of course they waited impatiently.

It seemed about an hour, and was really quite ten minutes, before they heard the bedroom door open and Mabel’s feet on the stairs.

“She hasn’t found it,” Gerald said.

“How do you know?” Jimmy asked.

“The way she walks,” said Gerald. You can, in fact, almost always tell whether the thing has been found that people have gone to look for by the sound of their feet as they return. Mabel’s feet said “No go” as plain as they could speak. And her face confirmed the cheerless news.

A sudden and violent knocking at the back door prevented anyone from having to be polite about how sorry they were, or fanciful about being sure the ring would turn up soon.

All the servants except Eliza were away on their holidays, so the children went together to open the door, because, as Gerald said, if it was the baker they could buy a cake from him and eat it for dessert. “That kind of dinner sort of needs dessert,” he said.

But it was not the baker, When they opened the

door they saw in the paved court where the pump is, and the dustbin, and the water-butt, a young man, with his hat very much on one side, his mouth open under his fair bristly mustache, and his eyes as nearly round as human eyes can be. He wore a suit of a bright mustard colour, a blue necktie, and a goldish watch-chain across his waistcoat. His body was thrown back and his right arm stretched out towards the door, and his expression was that of a person who is being dragged somewhere against his will. He looked so strange that Kathleen tried to shut the door in his face, murmuring, “Escaped insane.” But the door would not close. There was something in the way.

“Leave go of me!” said the young man.

“Ho yus! I’ll leave go of you!” It was the voice of Eliza but no Eliza could be seen.

“Who’s got hold of you?” asked Kathleen.

“She has, miss,” replied the unhappy stranger.

“Who’s she?” asked Kathleen, to gain time, as she afterwards explained, for she now knew well enough that what was keeping the door open was Eliza’s unseen foot.

“My fyongsay, miss. At least it sounds like her voice, and it feels like her bones, but something’s come over me, miss, an I can’t see her.”

“That’s what he keeps on saying,” said Eliza’s voice. “E’s my gentleman friend; is ‘e gone dotty, or is it me?”

“Both, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Jimmy.

“Now,” said Eliza, “you call yourself a man; you look me in the face and say you can’t see me.”

“Well I can’t,” said the wretched gentleman friend.

“If I’d stolen a ring,” said Gerald, looking at the sky, “I should go indoors and be quiet, not stand at the back door and make an exhibition of myself.”

“Not much exhibition about her,” whispered Jimmy; “good old ring!”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” said the gentleman friend. “Here, you leave me be. It’s my eyes has gone wrong. Leave go of me, d’ye hear?”

Suddenly his hand dropped and he staggered back against the water-butt. Eliza had “left go” of him. She pushed past the children, shoving them aside with her invisible elbows. Gerald caught her by the arm with one hand, felt for her ear with the other, and whispered, “You stand still and don’t say a word. If you do well, what’s to stop me from sending for the police?”

Eliza did not know what there was to stop him. So she did as she was told, and stood invisible and silent, save for a sort of blowing, snorting noise peculiar to her when she was out of breath.

The mustard-coloured young man had recovered his balance, and stood looking at the children with eyes, if possible, rounder than before.

“What is it?” he gasped feebly. “What’s up? What’s it all about?”

“If you don’t know, I’m afraid we can’t tell you,” said Gerald politely.

“Have I been talking very strange-like?” he asked, taking off his hat and passing his hand over his forehead.

“Very,” said Mabel.

“I hope I haven’t said anything that wasn’t good manners,” he said anxiously.

“Not at all,” said Kathleen. “You only said your fiancee had hold of your hand, and that you couldn’t see her.”

“No more I can.”

“No more can we,” said Mabel.

“But I couldn’t have dreamed it, and then come along here making a penny show of myself like this, could I?”

“You know best,” said Gerald courteously.

“But,” the mustard-coloured victim almost screamed, “do you mean to tell me…”

“I don’t mean to tell you anything,” said Gerald quite truly, “but I’ll give you a bit of advice. You go home and lie down a bit and put a wet rag on your head. You’ll be all right tomorrow.”

“But I haven’t “

“I should,” said Mabel; “the sun’s very hot, you know.”

“I feel all right now,” he said, “but well, I can only say I’m sorry, that’s all I can say. I’ve never been taken like this before, miss. I’m not subject to it don’t you think that. But I could have sworn Eliza Ain’t she gone out to meet me?”

“Eliza’s indoors,” said Mabel. “She can’t come out to meet anybody today.”

“You won’t tell her about me carrying on this way, will you, miss? It might set her against me if she thought I was liable to fits, which I never was from a child.”

“We won’t tell Eliza anything about you.”

“And you’ll overlook the liberty?”

“Of course. We know you couldn’t help it,” said Kathleen. “You go home and lie down. I’m sure you must need it. Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, I’m sure, miss,” he said dreamily. “All the same I can feel the print of her finger-bones on my hand while I’m saying it. And you won’t let it get round to my boss my employer I mean? Fits of all sorts are against a man in any trade.”

“No, no, no, it’s all right good-bye,” said everyone. And a silence fell as he went slowly round the water-butt and the green yard-gate shut behind him. The silence was broken by Eliza.

“Give me up!” she said. “Give me up to break my heart in a prison cell!”

There was a sudden splash, and a round wet drop lay on the doorstep.

“Thunder shower,” said Jimmy; but it was a tear from Eliza.

“Give me up,” she went on, “give me up” splash “but don’t let me be took here in the town where I’m known and respected” splash. “I’ll walk ten miles to be took by a strange police not Johnson as keeps company with my own cousin” splash. “But I do thank you for one thing. You didn’t tell Elf as I’d stolen the ring. And I didn’t splash I only sort of borrowed it, it being my day out, and my gentleman friend such a toff, like you can see for yourselves.”

The children had watched, spellbound, the interesting tears that became visible as they rolled off the invisible nose of the miserable Eliza. Now Gerald roused himself, and spoke.

“It’s no use your talking,” he said. “We can’t see you!”

“That’s what he said,” said Eliza’s voice, “but “

“You can’t see yourself,” Gerald went on. “Where’s your hand?”

Eliza, no doubt, tried to see it, and of course failed; for instantly, with a shriek that might have brought the police if there had been any about, she went into a violent fit of hysterics. The children did what they could, everything that they had read of in books as suitable to such occasions, but it is extremely difficult to do the right thing with an invisible housemaid in strong hysterics and her best clothes. That was why the best hat was found, later on, to be completely ruined, and why the best blue dress was never quite itself again. And as they were burning bits of the feather dusting-brush as nearly under Eliza’s nose as they could guess, a sudden spurt of flame and a horrible smell, as the flame died between the quick hands of Gerald, showed but too plainly that Eliza’s feather boa had tried to help.

It did help. Eliza “came to” with a deep sob and said, “Don’t burn me real ostrich stole; I’m better now.”

They helped her up and she sat down on the bottom step, and the children explained to her very carefully and quite kindly that she really was invisible, and that if you steal or even borrow rings you can never be sure what will happen to you.

“But ‘ave I got to go on stopping like this,” she moaned, when they had fetched the little mahogany looking-glass from its nail over the kitchen sink, and convinced her that she was really invisible, “for ever and ever? An we was to a bin married come Easter. No one won’t marry a gell as ‘e can’t see. It ain’t likely.”

“No, not for ever and ever,” said Mabel kindly, “but you’ve got to go through with it like measles. I expect you’ll be all right tomorrow.”

“Tonight, I think,” said Gerald.

“We’ll help you all we can, and not tell anyone,” said Kathleen.

“Not even the police,” said Jimmy.

“Now let’s get Mademoiselle’s tea ready,” said Gerald.

“And ours,” said Jimmy.

“No,” said Gerald, “we’ll have our tea out. We’ll have a picnic and we’ll take Eliza. I’ll go out and get the cakes.” “I sha’n’t eat no cake, Master Jerry,” said Eliza’s voice, “so don’t you think it. You’d see it going down inside my chest. It wouldn’t he what I should call nice of me to have cake showing through me in the open air. Oh, it’s a dreadful judgment just for a borrow!”

They reassured her, set the tea, deputed Kathleen to let in Mademoiselle who came home tired and a little sad, it seemed waited for her and Gerald and the cakes, and started off for Yalding Towers.

“Picnic parties aren’t allowed,” said Mabel.

“Ours will be,” said Gerald briefly. “Now, Eliza, you catch on to Kathleen’s arm and I’ll walk behind to conceal your shadow. My aunt! take your hat off; it makes your shadow look like I don’t know what. People will think we’re the county lunatic asylum turned loose.”

It was then that the hat, becoming visible in Kathleen’s hand, showed how little of the sprinkled water had gone where it was meant to go on Eliza’s face.

“Me best ‘at,” said Eliza, and there was a silence with sniffs in it.

“Look here,” said Mabel, “you cheer up. Just you think this is all a dream. It’s just the kind of thing you might dream if your conscience bad got pains in it about the ring.”

“But will I wake up again?”

“Oh yes, you’ll wake up again. Now we’re going to bandage your eyes and take you through a very small door, and don’t you resist, or we’ll bring a policeman into the dream like a shot.”

I have not time to describe Eliza’s entrance into the cave. She went head first: the girls propelled and