Wet Magic by E. Nesbit (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📕

“Things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other,” said Francis; and the three looked at each other and wondered why they had said such things.

“Don’t worry,” said the lady, “it’s only the influence of the place. This is the Cave of Learning, you know, very dark at the beginning and getting lighter and lighter as you get nearer to the golden door. All these rocks are made of books really, and they exude learning from every crack. We cover them up with anemones and seaweed and pretty things as well as we can, but the learning will leak out. Let us go through the gate or you’ll all be talking Sanskrit before we know where we are.”

She opened the gate. A great flood of glorious sunlight met them, the solace of green trees and the jeweled grace of bright blossoms. She pulled them through the door, and shut it.

“This is where we live,” she said. “Aren’t you glad you came?”

As the children passed through the golden doors a sort of swollen feeling which was beginning to make their heads quite uncomfortable passed away, and left them with a curiously clear and comfortable certainty that they were much cleverer than usual.

“I could do sums now, and no mistake,” Bernard whispered to Kathleen, who replied to the effect that dates no longer presented the slightest difficulty to her.

Mavis and Francis felt as though they had never before known what it was to have a clear brain. They followed the others through the golden door, and then came Reuben, and the Mermaid came last. She had picked up her discarded tail and was carrying it over her arm as you might a shawl. She shut the gate, and its lock clicked sharply.

“We have to be careful, you know,” she said, “because of the people in the books. They are always trying to get out of the books that the cave is made of; and some of them are very undesirable characters. There’s a Mrs. Fairchild⁠—we’ve had a great deal of trouble with her, and a person called Mrs. Markham who makes everybody miserable, and a lot of people who think they are being funny when they aren’t⁠—dreadful.”

The party was now walking along a smooth grassy path, between tall, clipped box hedges⁠—at least they looked like box hedges, but when Mavis stroked the close face of one she found that it was not stiff box, but soft seaweed.

“Are we in the water or not?” said she, stopping suddenly.

“That depends on what you mean by water. Water’s a thing human beings can’t breathe, isn’t it? Well, you are breathing. So this can’t be water.”

“I see that,” said Mavis, “but the soft seaweed won’t stand up in air, and it does in water.”

“Oh, you’ve found out, have you?” said the Mermaid. “Well, then, perhaps it is water. Only you see it can’t be. Everything’s like that down here.”

“Once you said you lived in water, and you wanted to be wet,” said Mavis.

“Mer-people aren’t responsible for what they say in your world. I told you that, you know,” the Mermaid reminded them.

Presently they came to a little coral bridge over a stream that flowed still and deep. “But if what we’re in is water, what’s that?” said Bernard, pointing down.

“Ah, now you’re going too deep for me,” said the Mermaid, “at least if I were to answer I should go too deep for you. Come on⁠—we shall be too late for the banquet.”

“What do you have for the banquet?” Bernard asked; and the Mermaid answered sweetly: “Things to eat.”

“And to drink?”

“It’s no use,” said she; “you can’t get at it that way. We drink⁠—but you wouldn’t understand.”

Here the grassy road widened, and they came onto a terrace of mother-of-pearl, very smooth and shining. Pearly steps led down from it into the most beautiful garden you could invent if you tried for a year and a day with all the loveliest pictures and the most learned books on gardening to help you. But the odd thing about it was that when they came to talk it over afterward they never could agree about the shape of the beds, the direction of the walks, the kinds and colors of the flowers, or indeed any single thing about it. But to each it seemed and will always seem the most beautiful garden ever imagined or invented. And everyone saw, beyond a distant belt of trees the shining domes and minarets of very beautiful buildings, and far, far away there was a sound of music, so far away that at first they could only hear the music and not the tune. But soon that too was plain, and it was the most beautiful tune in the world.

“Crikey,” said Reuben, speaking suddenly and for the first time, “ain’t it ’evingly neither. Not arf,” he added with decision.

“Now,” said the Mermaid, as they neared the belt of trees, “you are going to receive something.”

“Oh, thank you,” said everybody, and no one liked to add: “What?”⁠—though that simple word trembled on every tongue. It slipped off the tip of Reuben’s, indeed, at last, and the Mermaid answered:

“An ovation.”

“That’s something to do with eggs, I know,” said Kathleen. “Father was saying so only the other day.”

“There will be no eggs in this,” said the Mermaid, “and you may find it a trifle heavy. But when it is over the fun begins. Don’t be frightened, Kathleen⁠—Mavis, don’t smooth your hair. Ugly untidiness is impossible here. You are about to be publicly thanked by our Queen. You’d rather not? You should have thought of that before. If you will go about doing these noble deeds of rescue you must expect to be thanked. Now, don’t forget to bow. And there’s nothing to be frightened of.”

They passed through the trees and came on a sort of open courtyard in front of a palace of gleaming pearl and gold. There on a silver