The Strand 1913-9 Vol_XLVI №273 September mich

344 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. Osmond shook his head, rather weakly. \" Are you married ? \" The doctor's voice was very kind. \" Yes, and I have a little girl.\" Then the doctor told him. It seemed that he had a year or eighteen months—perhaps even two years, but cer- tainly not more—to live. Osmond listened, heard, understood. He was conscious of a curious feeling of sick dullness, a nauseating inertia of the mind. He stared at the doctor, feeling rather stupid. He did not know that his eyes were exactly those of a quiet, rather timid dog, begging. Then the fogs and shadows in his brain seemed to clear slowly, leaving him lucid and very much afraid. He decided to say nothing for a few moments—nothing at all. He did not wish to make himself look ridiculous. He con- tinued to stare at the doctor. \" I'm sorry. Drink this.\" He drank that which the doctor gave him. He never knew what it was he drank; it seemed quite tasteless. There was a bite to it, he remembered afterwards—a sensation of heat in the throat. Probably it was brandy. It helped him, whatever it was, and he spoke. \" This is a terrible thing for me, doctor,\" he said, slowly. \" I have a wife and little girl dependent on me.\" He paused, wonder- ing what they would say. \" I shall have to do something. I live carefully, but I can live more carefully. That, and treatment, will help. Strict attention to doctor's orders —no deceiving myself, but obeying orders. Serious treatment—common sense \" He faltered a little. \" Heaven help me, doctor. I mustn't die for years. Look !\" He snatched out the miniature of his baby Doreen to show the doctor, hesitated, steadied him- self, put back the miniature, and said no more. \" I could sell you drugs, my friend,\" said the doctor, tonelessly. \" But you have a better use for your money. Keep it for them —drugs can't give you a new heart. Now, listen to me.\" Osmond listened hungrily to the things the medical man told him. Some were useful things to know, some even consolatory, but there were none that were hopeful. Once it seemed to Osmond almost as though the medical man was rambling aimlessly, repeat- ing himself. At the end of it Osmond found himself with his whole mind pinned to one phrase. \" Everything in these cases depends on a man's character. No man can do more than his best. But his best is a question of character.\" The context no doubt was apt, but Osmond troubled only to remember that. He clung to it. For he had \" great nobility of character \" —the phrenologist had said it, he knew it himself. Well—now he must draw deep upon that nobility.

ONE WIFE'S HUSBAND. 345 vision them—streaming, for all the world to see, almost flamboyant, a flowing banner embroidered with the words \" Nobility of Character.\" It was with a wonderful sense of exhilaration that he mentally surveyed his \" flag.\" It would be hard, almost unen- durably hard, to do his fighting in silence— for inevitably Isabel and all the others would misunderstand, until understanding would arrive too late to make it easy—but that was his destiny—to traverse the hard way. (That would have been an amazed phre- nologist had he known how the few curt, unconsidered stock flatteries he had marketed for small silver had inspired his latest customer.) Paul Osmond stepped into the teashop with his head up, chin out, a faint flush on his cheeks, bright-eyed, and calm. He had changed subtly already—he would always look an ordinary, average, unarresting person—but one with self-respect. Isabel looked at him with tired eyes, smiling. \" I can see that you are all right,\" she said, confidently. \" What did he say ? \" \" Right as rain—just got to be careful about drinks and smokes—simple diet,\" replied Osmond. \" I knew that—it was money wasted.\" Isabel nodded. \" All the same I'm glad you went,\" she declared, complacently. \" Now I don't care if I did spend more than I wanted to, as long as you're all right. Will you have some tea ? No—not that, it's cold. I'll order a fresh pot.\" \" Oh, this will do.\" He poured himself a cup from her teapot. As she had said, it was cold, but it was threepence saved. Three- pence for Doreen and his wife. That was the start. Good. Outside the door of the teashop a taxi-cab slid by. The driver looked at them—a human note of interrogation. \" Oh, Paul—let's have a taxi to the station ! \" Something shook him suddenly. He felt like a ship which, leaving the smoothness of a harbour, encounters its first buffet from the open water. The threepence had been self- denial—easy. This taxi fare was denial to his wife. And she was tired. He shook his head, flushing. \" Better walk to Oxford Circus, old lady. No use throwing money away, eh ? \" The taxi rolled on out of hail. Isabel's face took on a slight, very slight, bleakness. \" Oh, all right,\" she said. She inflected a faint increase of weariness into her voice. Osmond took her arm. \" The doctor said I ought to walk as much as possible for the sake of the extra exercise.\" She nodded. \" All right, Paul. I was just a little tired, that's all.\" So they went home to Doreen. Osmond had not realized quite how hard it was going to be until the child greeted him,

340 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. they were built upon an insecure basis. The likelihood of such a tax was remote. But Isabel did not know this, and the urgency of his need gave him words to colour his facts. In an hour she agreed with him that they must cut expenses. They planned it then and there. The last item they dealt with was Isabel's dress allowance. It was cut down heavily, far more heavily than she had anticipated. She agreed, but the bleakness came again to her face, and remained there. He saw it, and the very soul of him quivered with pitiful protest that was reflected in his voice. Isabel, mentally occupied with her own ill-fortune, did not notice it. He took all she would yield, ruthlessly, greedily. Was it not for her sake—hers and Doreen's ? Would they not think gratefully of him in the years to come for what he was doing now ? But it hurt—it hurt. \" Nobility of Character \" were the words on the banner. And bravely the banner flew that night — that first night of pain and misen', which yet was to be the least painful of all the nights and days to follow ! Almost immediately Paul Osmond realized that if he was to achieve his ambition before he died—to leave three thousand pounds clear for his wife and child—he must cease to be honest, morally honest, that is. He saw quite clearly that steadiness, reliability, care, industry, and the kindred virtues which can be hired by anyone for a few pieces of silver a week were not in the least likely to avail him in his race against time. He knew that London was seething with men who were prepared, even desperate, to render all these things and more for a lifetime in return for a subsistence—sometimes barely that. So, working as he had never worked before, at the same time he became shifty, everlast- ingly prowling, outside of business, for loot that could be taken legally. He specialized in the small life policies which the big com- panies offer without medical examination. Fortunately he had passed his examination for the big three-hundred-pound policy as a \" first-class life,\" and that helped him. He discovered a doctor to whom the fee for the general report which serves instead of a strict examination report meant much. This man was enormously useful, and he secured a number of high-premiumed policies. He gave up his position as manager and took one as traveller, which, working with a mad frenzy, he made worth far more than his managership. Gradually his fellow-travellers came to know him as a borrower of trifles— small change, which he forgot to repay. He kept a ten-pound note about him habitually to serve as an excuse. He did not despise a loan of coppers. It was characteristic of the man that he borrowed nothing that was likely to prove remotely serious for the lender, and he kept detailed notes of each loan so that he could repay if he were, by a miracle, ever in a position to do so. He grew a little

ONE WIFE'S HUSBAND. 347 Doreen would only be able to afford a tiny house, and he could get a better price for the big furniture than they, selling it when he was dead, could do. The bleakness on his wife's face had long become permanent, her voice weary and cold. Even Doreen, lacking the sufficiency of toys that had been hers of old, seemed gradually to be replacing her love for her father with a sort of reserve and mistrust. Isabel protested regularly. But for a year he quieted her. Then she made a stand. \" Why have you altered everything ? \" she asked, bitterly, one day. \" You behave like traveller at Mason's—more than twice as much as you used to. She says a tax on paper is impossible.\" (Mrs. Wayling was the wife of another traveller at Mason's.) \" Wayling is a fool,\" said Osmond. \" He's no good in the business. He'll be the first to feel the pinch when it comes.\" He went over to his wife and knelt down by her chair, taking her hands—roughened a little by household duties which in the old days had been done by a maid-servant, now long abolished. \" Stick to me, Isabel, for Heaven's sake,\" he asked her, almost in a moan. \" 1 know STICK TO HE, ISABEL, FOK HEAVEN S SAKK a miser—I never heard anything like it. I say nothing for myself—I don't care how / look—but you stint Doreen for clothes. The child has got nothing decent to wear. Oh, I know she's warm, and all that—but she hasn't got anything pretty — like other children ! \" He had averted his eyes. \" It's the tax,\" he said, low and hurriedly. \" It's coming on—everyone says so. I'm trying for a berth with a bigger firm. When I get it we shall be as we were before. But if I don't I shall be out of a berth before long, and we must have a reserve.\" \" But Mrs. Wayling says her husband says you are making twice as much as any other what it is for you and the little one. I'd cut my hand off rather than stint you—but that wouldn't help. I must have a reserve—to fall back on. Stick it out, old girl. It hurts me—nobody knows how it hurts me—it's killing me!\" But a year of bitter brooding had left its mark on the woman. She drew her hand away. \" I don't see why we can't be like everybody else,\" she said, half-sullenly. \" No one else stints and scrapes in case the husband loses his berth like we do. They do their best and chance it. Oh, I'm tired of it—sick of it. I can't stand it. I get nothing—nothing. I work like a slave—I'm in rags. If I'd been

348 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. born to it I suppose it would not have mattered. It's the awful change. I didn't marry you for this. I was better off when I was typing for a living \" She caught herself up just in time — on the edge of hysteria. She rose quickly. \" I wasn't meant to marry a poor man— and Doreen hasn't been trained to be a poor man's child. I'm willing to chance your losing your berth if you are. Think it over,\" she said, her voice suddenly hard and cold. He blenched, but stuck to his guns. \" I can't—I \" The door closed behind her and Osmond dropped his hands, palm upwards, on the chair, his face upon his palms. Should he tell her ? He was tempted almost beyond endurance. The past year had been well-nigh intolerable to her, as to him. He had not known an instant of happiness since he came down Dr. Warr's steps—not one instant. But he had done his duty—he was sure of that—already, counting insurance, there was a little over two thousand pounds saved. Should he let it stand at that —invest what he could—and then go back to the old standard of living—the old happiness? He shivered as he realized that the old happiness was impossible, that Isabel could only exchange the role of reluctant economist for that of nurse—of one who fought with feeble, futile hands against death. What was the use of telling her ? She was unhappy enough now. No, he would fight it out to the finish. They would know some day. That must be enough for him. His mind flashed back to the beginning of it all, and he laughed drearily as he recalled the phrase which had been so helpful to him then. What was it— \" Nobility of Character.\" He winced as he thought of the things he had done to sustain the role that phrase had inspired him to take up—the petty sleights and shifts by which he had helped swell his hoard. Then he set his teeth. \" I don't care,\" he muttered. \" The end is noble, whatever the means. I shall die leaving them provided for. And I shall have paid for it—paid for it! \" He stood up, staring at himself in the glass. He saw that he had altered—saw the wolf- look—but slowly another thought occurred to him. He looked reasonably well—not healthy, but by no means like a man who might die at any moment. For months past his mind had clung only to money, how to make it, how to keep it—he had not thought of himself. Now, suddenly, he concentrated his perceptions on himself, his physical appearance. He turned up the gas, which economy had kept low, and faced again to the mirror over the mantelpiece, staring hard at himself. And he could see no sign of physical deterioration from what he had been. He thrust out his tongue. It was clean

ONE WIFE'S HUSBAND. 349 understood, even by those whose opinion you value most, but sometimes you are able to make them admit that you were right. You are generous and will succeed in life. You are a clever organizer. You do not lack application, and are inclined to think more of others than of yourself. You are capable of great self-sacrifice when it is necessary. This is due to the nobility of your character. You have a great love of home life, and you are of an affectionate nature.\" But what did it all bring him, what had it done for him, what had he gained by it all but misery and loneliness ? Well, he had done, was doing, his duty. Only he was doing it alone. He crept into bed and wept unashamed. He could do that now, for now, indeed, he was alone. jjj On the following morning Osmond went to the doctor's much as a condemned man may go to the last court of appeal to protest against his sentence. Possessed by a sort of light-headed excitement, he did not notice that the brass plate on the door bore another name. He looked for the number of the house, no more, was shown in, and waited his turn, still in that state of haziness that was akin to mental blindness. Only when he entered to the doctor did he realize that he was not to deal with Warr. The man who received him was a very different person from the tall, stooping, jerky doctor who had pronounced his doom a year ago. This man was big and broad, and his face' was keener, ivory white, decisive. One glance told him the state Osmond was in, and he dealt with him carefully. \" Dr. Warr gave up the practice a year ago,\" he explained, quietly, in reply to Osmond's rather confused inquiry. \" A year ago! 1 must have been one of his last patients, last and unluckiest,\" said Osmond. The new man—his name was Wilton— looked at him keenly, a new interest < n his face. \" Yes ? \" he said. \" What was your trouble ? You never came again.\" \" It was no good coming. Dr. Warr was candid. He said he wouldn't take money for drugs that wouldn't do me any good. It was my heart—gone to pieces. He said I couldn't live more than a year or two,\" Osnr nd gulped. Wilton's face grew grave. \" I will examine you again,\" he said. He did so. Osmond saw that there was no tremor in this man's hands ; they were firm, skilful, gentle with the confident gentleness of strength under perfect control, like white steel. His face grew graver and graver, but, strangely, something in his eyes thrilled Osmond with a warm, unex- pected sense of comfort. He completed his examination, and signed to Osmond to sit down. Just as Warr had done, so this man refrained for a few moments



ONE WIFE'S HUSBAND. 35> some wonderful things—made many people happy. He made you unhappy. But you are now prosperous. There is that, at least. Do you feel bitter ? \" Osmond shook his head. \" I don't know yet. I hope not. He is dead. I don't want to be bitter. I \" He stood up suddenly. \" I must go home at once. To tell them—they, too, have suffered, doctor. I will come again to thank you properly.\" The doctor opened the door, smiling. \" Come back when you like,\" he said. \" I understand.\" Osmond found himself hatless in the street, his brain thundering. A taxi whirled by and he hailed it wildly. \" Waterloo,\" he shouted. \" Quick.\" The driver conceived him mad and made haste accordingly. But Osmond thought he crawled—crawled—though he gave the man a half-sovereign at the station. There was a train on the instant of departure, and that, too, crawled. To Osmond it was slower than the taxi-cab. But at long last it stopped at Earlsfield. He was not five hundred yards from home, but he could not curb himself to walk it. He leaped into a battered cab outside, giving his number and street as he leaped. Yet, for all his frenzied haste, he stopped long enough to raid the poor toyshop at the corner. He knew what Doreen wanted— innocently she had stabbed him throughout many months with little talcs of her desires. He took things by the armful. \" This ! \" he said, and snatched a doll. \" And this ! And this ! And the tea-set, yes ! That skipping-rope and this — and this \" He only stopped for breath, paid fcr and piled the gaudy, glorious things into the cab, unwrapped, undisguised. \" Now, home I\" he said to the staring cabman. Feverishly he crumpled four five-pound notes into a ball. That was for Isabel to spend that day—to start with—a beginning —an introduction to the new happiness that was to outshine even that of the old days. \" Wait ! \" he said to the cabman, and his arms brimming with scarlet and gold and green of many toys, he fumbled the latch-key home and entered the shabby, poverty- stricken passage. The house was very silent, and he saw lying on the rickety bamboo \" hall\" table an envelope. Sudden fear knocked at his heart. He put down the toys and snatched the letter. It was addressed to \" Paul \" in his wife's hand. He hesitated for an instant, half-sobbing as the reaction took him. Then he tore it open. It was as short as it was agonizing :— \" Dear Paul,—I cannot endure it any more. I saw your bank-book in your drawer, which you left unlocked this morning. I don't know why you have treated Doreen and me in the way you have. You are rich and

PERPLEXITIES. ^Vltn Some Easy Puzzles for Beginners. By Henry E. Dudeney. 155.—THE SIX FROGS. The six educated frogs in the illustration are trained to reverse their order, so that their numbers shall read 6,5.4.3,2,1, with the blank square in its present posi- tion. They can jump to the next square (if vacant) or leap over one frog to the next square beyond (if vacant), just as we move in the game of draughts, and can go back- wards or forwards at pleasure. Can you show how they perform their feat in the fewest possible moves ? It is quite easy, so when you have done it add a seventh frog to the right and try again. Then add more frogs until you are able to give the shortest solution for any number. For it can always be done, with that single vacant square, no matter how many frogs there are. 156.—THE MOTOR-BICYCLE RACE. At a motor-bicycle race round a circular track one spectator said to another, as the cycles went whirling round and round the course :— \" There's Gogglesham—that man just going by ! \" \" Yes, I see,\" was the reply; \" but how many cycles are running in the race ? \" \" Add one-third of the number of cycles running in front of Gogglesham to three-quarters of those behind him, and that will give you the answer 1 \" Now, how many cycles were actually running in that race ? 157.—THE DISSECTED CIRCLE. How many continuous strokes, without lifting your pencil from the paper, do you require to draw the design shown in our illustration ? Directly you change the direc- tion of your pencil it begins a new stroke. You may go over the same line more than once if you like. It requires just a little care, or you may find yourself beaten by one stroke. 158.—THE CYCLISTS' FEAST. 'Twas last Bank Holiday, so I've been told, Some cyclists rode abroad in glorious weather. Resting at noon within a tavern old, They all agreed to have a feast together. \" Put it all in one bill, mine host,\" they said, \" For every man an equal share will pay.\" The bill was promptly on the table laid, And four pounds was the reckoning that day. But, sad to slate, when they prepared to square, Twas found that two had sneaked outside and fled. So, for two shillings more than his due share Each honest man who had remained was bled. They settled later with those rogues, no doubt. How many were they when they first set out ? 159.—THEIR AGES. If you add the square of Jack's age to the age of Jill, the sum is 62 ; but if you add the square of Jill's age to the age of Jack the result is 176. Can you say what are the ages of

the F&iri airies Prisoner \"AC ROSE' ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES ROBINSON HIS is the strange story of a thoughtless boy who was kept a prisoner for a whole week in the fairy wood. Robin lived with his parents in a white farm-house on the crest of a hill. The fields and gardens of the farm sloped gently to the bottom of the hill, and were there divided from the wood by a fence. Often had Robin been warned by his mother not to go into the wood. \" For the trees grow very thickly there, and if you got lost,\" she said, \" goodness knows what would happen to you ! \" But one morning, as Robin stood looking over the fence into the dark wood, he thought he would put one foot over on the other side to see if it felt any different, for he had heard that it was an enchanted wood. Of course it didn't feel any different, so Robin sat on the fence and hung both feet over and waited to see what would happen. Nothing happened at all. He jumped down and stood holding on to the fence with one hand and feeling quite brave. \" If mother could see me now, I wonder what she would say ? \" said Robin to himself. A moment later he saw the most beauti- ful flower—a wake-robin. Robin had often picked them in their own little woods on the other side of the hill, but none had ever been quite so large and lovely as this one. Grasping the stem, Robin pulled it, and turned to go home, when he heard the joyous carolling of a bird quite near him. Looking up, he saw a redbreast perched upon a tree. Robin whistled, and the bird, twisting his lilt'e head, saucily returned the salute. Quick as thought Robin dropped his flower and, picking up a stone, aimed it at the bird. His aim was not true, and the redbreast flew away unharmed. But instantly there was an angry buzzing sound near him. \" Bees are swarming somewhere,\" said Robin. The sound came nearer and nearer, but he saw no bees or other insects. At last he was surrounded on all sides by the noise, and, feeling something sting him sharply on the cheek, turned to run out of the wood. \" Mosquitoes,\" said Robin, aloud. \" Bother them ! They spoil all one's fun.\" \" Mosquitoes, indeed ! \" said an angry little voice quite close to his ear. \" Nothing of the sort.\" The voice was so tiny that it sounded no louder than the hum of a mosquito ; but, though angry, it was still qui'e sweet. Only fairies can scold properly and yet keep their voices sweet. Bewildered, Robin gazed all about him. \" Fairies,\" said the same clear little voice, \" let us become visible and punish this wicked mortal.\" And all at once the air was full of little

354 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. light and grace and swiftness. There must have been a hundred of them, and every one of them was angry. Perching on Robin's shoulder, on his head, swaying on the slender branches of the trees, they gazed at him with indignation, unmixed with any pity. Robin must have realized at that moment that he was a prisoner and could not hope to escape from them. \" You have done an unspeakable thing,\" said one fairy, who was about a sixth of an inch taller and about one ounce heavier than any of her companions, and so was crowned with authority. \" You threw a stone at a bird.\" \" At a bird ! \" cried all the other fairies, and every voice went up to high C, which is their top note. You will find it at the very end of the piano on the right side. But Robin, though alarmed by their number, stood his ground sturdily and responded : \" Well, lots of boys do that.\" \" Fairies,\" exclaimed the largest one (her name was Puffball), \" this is worse than we thought ! Boys must be very bad. What shall we do with this one ? \" \" We will take him to the Queen and ask her to consider his case,\" replied a fairy with a determined chin. To this the others all agreed, and, summon- ing a small army of grasshoppers, Puffball directed them to the cutting of a wild vine to make a harness. This was soon accomplished, and the vines securely fastened over Robin's shoulders and under his arms. It was no use making a fuss ; he knew he had to go with them. Had anyone else been in the woods to see the strange procession, he surely would have thought it a pretty sight. Wreathed in his vine harness, Robin trudged on through the leafy glade, and every fairy who could get hold of an end of the vine, or even a tendril, flew behind and beside him, spurring him on if he lagged with the sharp end of a tiny wand. Once he cried out, \" Oh, you're sticking pins into me,\" and a nice little fairy, called Gold- heart, remonstrated gently. \" Not so hard, dear Cobweb ; perhaps boys have feelings, you know.\" Robin Was grateful to Goldheart. By and by he learned the names of several fairies who were his near companions. There was Fleetwing, very light in the air, and wearing pale pink. Thistledown was all in mauve, and looked ready to be blown away by the first puff of wind. Moonbeam wore silver and white, and seemed to shed a light of her own. Hyacinth was a very pretty creature in light blue. Daffodil wore yellow, and was very gay. Goldheart was in bright yellow, and, as her name indicates, was renowned for her good heart. Robin heard them speak frequently of a fairy called Silver Shoes, who seemed rather important; but she was not among them, nor did Robin ever see her entirely. He understood that Silver Shoes had charge of the wood, but during a short absence on a vacation she had

THE FAIRIES' PR1S0XER. 355



THE FAIRIES' PRISONER. 357 RUBIN TRUDGED ON rilKOUliH THB LEAFY CLADB, AM) EVERY FAIRY WHO COULD GEI HOLD OF AN END OF THE VINE, OK EVEN A TENDRIL, FLEW BEHIND AND BEblDE HIM, SPURRING HIM ON.\"

3=8 THE STRASD MAGAZIXE. 'OOLDIIKARl' WOl'I.l) I'KKCII Ul'ON A FLOWER AM) TALK TO DIM WHILE HE WORKED.\"'

THE FAIRIES' PRISONER. 359 His case was soon stated. Of course, the Queen was horrified at his deed, for she looked upon any wanton cruelty to birds or animals as a crime, and Robin soon saw it would go hard with him. It was no use giving her the flimsy excuse that other boys did it. \" Fairies,\" said the Queen, \" I have con- sidered this bad boy's case, and I have decided we shall keep him a prisoner here in our woods and make him work for us.\" A little buzz of talk and certain looks among the fairies seemed to denote satisfaction with these words. But Robin cried out: \" For how long ? \" \" Silence ! \" said the Queen, and at once added: \" Until you have finished the work I shall give you. For some time I have thought of giving you fairies a swimming-pool,\" con- tinued the Queen. Upon hearing this two fairies clapped their hands. \" As things are now, it is not safe for us to bathe either in the creek or in the lake. This boy shall build us a proper bath with his own hands. Come with me.\" Descending from the throne, she flew out of the cave, and all the fairies flew after her, guiding Robin, who was still harnessed with the wild vine. The Queen stopped when she came to a place where the waters of the creek ran, swift and crystal-clear, over pure white sand. All around the side maidenhair fern and blue and yellow flags were growing. \" This is the spot I have chosen,\" said the Queen. \" The prisoner will first have to build a dam. Of course, he won't do it nearly as well as our old friend, the Beaver, but I cannot disturb him just now, for he is very busy building his house.\" The Queen showed Robin where to find clay and the prettiest pebbles for lining the swim- ming bath, and, after warning him that she was very particular about the work, flew back to the palace, accompanied by most of the fairies. Only half-a-dozen remained for a short time to look after the prisoner. \" Where is the old Beaver ? \" was the first question Robin asked after the Queen had gone. \" About five fairy miles down the creek,\" replied Fleetwing. \" And how much is a fairy mile ? \" sa d he. \" Ten of your largest steps make a fairy mile,\" said Goldheart. \" Oh, that is easy,\" declared Robin. \" Then the Beaver is fifty paces down the creek.\" And at once he started off to find him. Sure enough, the old Beaver was hard at work building his house with branches and twigs and mud. How vigorously he thumped the moist clmr down with his big tail! \" Oh, if I only had a tail like that!\" said Robin. He spent a whole day taking lessons from the Beaver, and then went back to work on the swimming-pool. After he had made the dam across the creek, diverting the water into another channel, he dug out his basin to the proper size and lined it thickly with clay. Then he

360 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. visit them in flocks at midnight. Only you must never, never tell.\" \" Oh, never,\" said Robin. \" I didn't know you came to gardens. Did you ever come to ours ? \" \" Many a time,\" replied Goldheart; \" but you were always in bed and sound asleep. About half an hour after midnight is a good time to open your window and look for fairies on the sweet-peas ; but you will hardly be able to see them, even by bright moonlight, because a fairy always lights on a flower 'the same colour as her dress.\" Here they were suddenly interrupted by. an elf in the Queen's livery. He came to tell Robin that Her Majesty was coming to inspect his work. So Goldheart flew off in a great hurry, and Robin bent to his task in earnest. He enjoyed the building of the swimming-bath, and was much entertained by Goldheart's conversation, but of course longed to get back to his own home and tell his mother and sister of his strange adventures. The Queen came shortly after the noon hour, attended by sixty fairies. But as soon as she saw Robin's work she frowned and stamped her foot. Then the sixty fairies stamped their feet, and all the babies in a family of crickets near by woke up suddenly and began to chirp. \" What is this ? \" cried the Queen. \" What careless work ! Here is a green stone next to a blue one.\" It was quite true. The sixteenth pebble in the twentieth row was green, when it ought to have been blue. Robin gazed in dismay at his mistake. \" I'm sorry, your Majesty, but I matched the stones by moonlight, and thought it was blue.\" \" No excuses,\" replied the Queen. \" Here- after you shall not do any night work, but you must rise earlier in the morning. Don't let me find such a mistake when I come again.\" And she flew away. The next morning Robin was up even before the birds, and; had the pleasure, for the first time in his life; 'of waking them. \"Lazy things,\"'cried Robin, knocking at the door of a woodpecker's nest. It was in a knot-hole in a tree. \" Lazv things, get up ! \" The woodpecker came to his little door, gazing at Robin in astonishment, not under- standing him in the least, for they had never heard that word before. Goldheart did not come again to talk with him, and it must be admitted he did his work more quickly when alone. At length the pool was finished. Fleet- wing, who had brought Robin his noonday meal in six bur-baskets (she had to make six trips to do it), was sent to call the Queen and her attendants. When they arrived Robin showed them the swimming-pool. They were speechless for a moment with admiration, and all that

CURIOSITIES. \\We shall be glad In receive Contributions to this section, and to fay for such as are accepted.] AN UP-TO-DATE ADVERTISEMENT. AN advert is i n g device that attracted crowds in the streets of Los Angeles, California, was the aeroplane shown in this photo- graph. It carried a passenger whose con- tortions kept the crowd in a state of uneasiness, as he seemed to be having trouble with his air-craft as it flew above the housetops. The aviator was a dummy, almost life- size, and the machine was built in propor- tion, and, seen from the streets, presented a realistic appearance. The whole device was kept aloft by a number of kites, but they were so high as to be out of sight from the pavements. Cords operated the dummy, which seemed to be working with the levers. A banner trailing behind the air-craf; carried the advertising sign.—Mr. C. L. Edholm, 4,624, Figueroa Street, Los Angeles, Cal., U.S.A. pipes and splashing on to the praying-stones in front of the shrine below. On these the devout kneel reverently, sometimes for thirty or forty minutes, with cold water playing on their backs, supplicating the deity of the shrine for the safety and welfare of some be- loved friend or rela- tive.—Mr. F. S. Daw- son, 9, Til ling ton Street, Stafford. CAMP LIFE ON THE ROOF. WITH a tent city on its roof, a huge tourist hotel in San Diego, California, offers a feature of city li'e that is unique—camping one hundred and fifty feet QUAINT JAPANESE PRAYING-STONES. KYOTO, Japan, abounds in picturesque temples and quain* shrines, but perhaps no more interesting or beautiful spot will be found than a small shrine below the Kiyomidzudera. In the valley beneath this temple is the Otawa-no-Taki, a small stream springing out of the rocks, led through bamboo above the streets. The advantages are readily seen ; an abundance of sunshine and fresh air, a wonderful view of the Pacific Ocean and the mountain ranges of Mexico, and, at the same time, all the comforts of a metropolitan hotel. Twenty-two tents have been installed here, and during the summer the demand for them is great.—Mr. C. L. Edholm, 4,624, Figueroa

362 THE STRAND MAGAZINE. A GIGANTIC PAPER FISH. ON May 5th every year in Japan a boys' holiday takes place, when foreign visitors will notice many gigantic paper or cotton carp floating in the air from poles erected by the side of the house. This photograph shows a specimen of the paper carp. The idea is that as the carp swims up the river against the current so will the sturdy boy, overcoming all obstacles, make his way in the world and rise to fame and fortune.—Mr. M. Yoshida, Ichinoki-cho, Yamada, Ise, Japan. \" ALL THE FUN OF THE FAIR \" ON A TABLE. >ERIIAPS the chief merit of this model fair is that it works well and is an unfailing source of pleasure to the children. The little hot-air engine is harnessed to the roundabouts, joy-wheel, and over-boats, all of which are made of odds and ends found about the house, such as treacle tins, long nails, and cotton-reels, which are especially useful as pulley-wheels. The cocoa - nut game cost fourpence - halfpenny, the shooting game a penny, and the rest, with the exception of the engine, about a shilling. My little boy calls it a \"Table Fair,\" and, indeed, it may be looked on as an adaptation of Mr. H. G. Wells's \" Floor Games,\" for the boy was responsible for the conception which has made the engine what it should be, a means to an end. Small porcelain dolls pay for rides with pennies, sixpences, or shillings, and the above-mentioned young gentle- man of six is becoming proficient in giving change. The amazing variations of games with the fair, invented by two or three little friends and himself on rainy days, have been astonishing. The whole fair can be packed up and \" taken to the next town,\" as they say.— Mr. Fred Hatfield, 18, Cumberland Road, Manor Park, E. FOR WARMTH OR LIGHT? OWING to some defect an ordinary street gas-lamp in Croydon, lit and extinguished night and morning, was removed, and on close examination was found to contain a tom-tit's nest with six eggs. The hole at the right side of the lamp was used by the bird as an entrance, and the left side, showing the nest, was torn away in order to show the interesting work of the bird.—Mr. A. H. Hobbs, Gas Offices, Katharine Street, Croydon. A TRAIN HELD UP BY A HOUSE. IAM sending you a photograph of a rather interesting occurrence in Minto, South Manitoba, Canada. It shows a train held up by a general store, which is being taken from one side of the town to the other by means of rollers and a horse-worked capstan. Although this is a fairly common sight in Canada, I think some of the readers of the \" Curiosities\" pages might be interested in the photograph. — Mr. G. L. Ormiston, Holly Lodge, St. Margarets-on-Thames.