Lady Rum-Di-Doodle-Dum's Children by S. B. Dinkelspiel - HTML preview

CHAPTER XV

IN WHICH, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A LONG TIME,
 I DO NOT TALK AT ALL, BUT AM WELL CONTENT
 TO SIT QUIETLY BY AND LISTEN TO THE
 LOVELY NEWS THAT L. H. D., WHO, YOU WILL
 REMEMBER, I TOLD YOU ABOUT IN THE PREFACE,
 HAS BROUGHT

ONE gloriously sunny morning Liza opened her grey eyes wide, yawned, and decided that she would really stay awake and consider the business of the day. She sat up in her little crib, looking adorably pink and white and very huggable, with her tousled golden curls playing hide and seek with each other on her neck. Across the room, in her own bed, still sound asleep, lay Martha Mary.

“Sister Lazy Bones,” thought Butterfly, and wondered how anyone could want to sleep when Mr. Cock Robin was singing such a splendid song in the vines at the windows. Liza looked around the room expectantly, then the corners of her mouth drooped pitifully, and a big tear rolled down her cheek. For where was Mother Dear this beautiful morning? Never before, as long as Liza could remember, had she failed to find Mother bending over her when she awakened, with a big kiss waiting in the corner of her mouth for her baby daughter.

Just at that minute, luckily, Nurse Huggins came in, smiling, oh, so happily! Liza, of course, just couldn’t help smiling, too, though she had not any idea at all why she was so glad.

“Please,” said she, “where’s my Muvver Dear?”

(She never took time to say Mother quite distinctly, though she really could if she wanted to.)

Nurse just laughed mysteriously, in the annoying way that grown-ups sometimes have, kissed the little Butterfly, and bade her get quickly into her wrapper and slippers. By this time Martha Mary was awake, too, and following Liza’s example. In another moment the two children were standing before Mother Dear’s door, which was very quietly opened from the inside by a brown-eyed lady, dressed all in white, whom they had never seen before. Mother lay in the big, four-poster bed, looking a little pale and a little tired, but oh, so “smily.” Right next to her was a little cradle, all blue lace and ribbons, and inside— Guess what! There was a baby, a teeny, tiny bit of a one, all red and wrinkled, and not half so big as Liza’s doll. At first Martha Mary could only look from the big bed to the cradle and then back again. Then, when they realized what a wonderful present Mother Dear had given them, they nearly smothered her with kisses. No one said a word, because, you see, when a person is really and truly happy they can’t talk much because of the choky feeling in their throat. But after Martha Mary and Liza had each touched the crumpled rose-leaf hands of the new baby, and looked into its tiny face.

“Please,” said Mary, “is it a sister or a brother?”

Mother laughed, then,—she just couldn’t help it. How silly she had been not to have told them!

“It’s a sister, Ladykin Dear,” said Father, who came into the room just in time to hear the question. “And she is just as glad to see you as you are to see her, only she sleeps so much that she hasn’t time to tell you so, herself.”

While Father was speaking Liza’s eyes had grown very wide indeed, for the tiny sister had yawned, then opened her eyes, and was looking straight at Liza.

“Muvver Dear! Father!” said she excitedly, “she is going to talk to me.” Then Butterfly’s golden curls, which just reached to the top of the cradle, bent over anxiously toward the little bald head of the new baby. No one spoke for at least a minute, which was evidently long enough for Miss Little Sister to deliver her message, for at the end of that time, away flew Liza across the room like a little sunbeam, dancing and singing,

“I know a secret I won’t tell you,

Sister told me and it is true.”

No amount of begging on the part of Martha Mary could persuade Liza to tell what the little stranger had said. I am sorry to say that Mary felt just the least bit jealous, for she didn’t see why Liza should be the only person in the family to know such wonderful things. Just as the two children were leaving the room, Liza went over to the big bed, took Mother Dear’s hand and kissed it.

“Baby says her name’s ‘Midge,’” said Butterfly. “That is part of the secret.”

Everyone smiled and was glad.

“Well,” said Father, “Midge it shall be, although her really, truly name is to be ‘Margaret,’ just like Mother’s.”

Liza’s eyes fairly danced with delight at the news, and Martha Mary had to keep a very tight hold on her lips, so as not to shout how happy she was, and so awaken Miss Midge.

No one could seem to eat any breakfast that morning, though there were delicious berries from the garden, with mush, and new-laid eggs, and the thickest cream that Cow Bess could give. The boys had been introduced to Miss Margaret Sherman, the second, while Liza and Martha Mary were dressing, so it was small wonder that with the new addition to the family to discuss the importance of such an every-day occurrence as breakfast faded to almost nothing.

“She’s not so much,” said Walter, with a rather disgusted look, while he balanced a raspberry on the end of his fork. “Little bit of a red thing without any hair at all! and, do you know, it hasn’t even a single tooth.”

“Well, supposing it hasn’t,” said John, his pride very much hurt at the idea of a sister of his not being perfect, “it’s much happier without them, I’m sure. Doesn’t have to bother with any old dentist.”

“John! Walter! How can you?” said Martha Mary, almost in tears. “You are simply hateful to talk like that about the loveliest baby there ever was. You ask Miss Mason if she isn’t. I heard her tell Father that Midge was a ‘perfectly normal child,’ and although it sounds awful, he looked so happy that I know it must be something nice.”

“But where did she come from, my Sister Midge Margaret?” said Liza, who had been perfectly still ever since she had left Mother Dear’s room. No one knew, but Edward Lee suggested that they find Flip, and perhaps he could tell them. So away they all scampered, but not a trace of him could they find. Just as they were about to give up, Liza spied him way down in the sunken garden, his arms full of baby roses which he had gathered for the baby in the house who looked so like a rose herself. The children had never before seen him look so happy, except the day that Jane came and his book was accepted. So, of course, they knew it would be easy to get him to tell a story. Martha Mary took his hand and patted it and said:

“Please, Flip, we would like a really and truly story about Margaret.” Flip was delighted and said he had intended to tell one, anyway, and was coming to look for them.

“For,” said he, “I am very, very happy to-day, Ladykin Dear, so you shall have the nicest story I know how to tell.”

And this is what he told them—the story of Little Sister Margaret:

“Did you ever wonder, Children,” he began, “when you look at the sky at night, and see the millions of fairy stars twinkling and dancing up there, just why they are so bright and happy? Well, I’ll tell you the reason. It is the most wonderfullest secret there ever was, and the only people who are allowed to know it are the ones who love the star children very much.”

“I do,” said Liza. “Please tell me!”

“Me, too—and Me—and Me—and Me,” came in chorus from the others.

“Now,” Flip continued, “you all know that everybody and everything in the world must have some use, no matter how little it may be. It is just the same in Star-land, though most silly people never think what the little twinkling lights are for. Do you know that every single one of them, down to the teeniest, tiniest baby, that you can hardly see, is a world of loveliness all by itself? There is the Rose Star, where gloriously deep red roses, and little shy yellow buds and pink lady-roses grow, and the air is sweeter than the sweetest perfume you can imagine. Then there is the Forget-me-not Star, all covered with the little blue flowers that look like Sister Margaret’s eyes; and the Violet Star, and Pansy Land, and Sun Flower Place (very large and important) and heaps and heaps of other flower stars whose names I have forgotten. Of course there is Fairy Story Star, too, where Puss in Boots, and Little Red Riding Hood, and Cinderella, and Jack the Giant Killer, and all the rest of them live. Right near IT is the Grown-Up Book Star, where there are so very many people that they never get time to know each other. But the most important star, outside, of course, of the Music Land Star and the Bird Star where the loveliest of songs come from, and really, even more important than them, is—guess who! Butterfly Dear!”

“Lady Rumdidoodledum,” said Liza, without even stopping to think.

“Right,” said Flip, “and that is just whom I am going to tell you about.”

“But I thought it was to be about baby sister,” said Martha Mary, rather disappointedly, for she really could think of nothing else this morning.

“It is about them both, Impatient,” answered Flip.

“You see, since Lady Rumdidoodledum is the biggest and brightest and happiest star of them all, she must of course have something very nice to make her so glad. Now, what do you suppose it would be that is even lovelier than all the loveliest flowers or books, or birds, or anything else that you can think of?”

“Give up,” said Walter, although everyone was much too busy listening to Flip to pay any attention.

“I know,” said Martha Mary, her eyes shining. “It’s Babies.”

“Exactly, Ladykin Dear,” answered Flip. “Lady Rumdidoodledum is the Baby Star, and she shines specially for little children all over the world. I must tell you about her. There are oodles and oodles of babies living there, creeping and laughing and cooing all day. They are happy as happy can be, for they have the most adorable little playmates that you ever saw. They are little fairy creatures, scarcely as large as Martha Mary’s finger-nails, and they live in the soft, silky green centers of eucalyptus blossoms. When a Mother down here on the earth wants a little boy child or girl child very badly, she goes out into the woods and picks a eucalyptus blossom. Then, if she is very wise she opens it, whispers her wish, and lets out the tiny creature inside, who flies away up beyond the clouds in the gentle arms of the Southeast wind, straight to Lady Rumdidoodledum. There, the first thing the little fairy-person sees is a big silver cloud. She goes right through it, for she is both a fairy and a dream and can do many wonderful things. Right there, who do you think is waiting? A smiling Mother-person who looks like your Mother Dear, as well as every other Mother in the world.

“‘Happy Day, Little Dream,’ she says, which is Rumdidoodledum for ‘How do you do?’ The little creature whispers the message of the Mother who sent her from earth, then flies back to tell her that all is well, and her wish will be granted.

“Well, one lovely evening, several months ago, just after the sun had set and the sky was all rosy and gold in the west, your Mother Dear went out for a little walk in the garden with Father. Lady Rumdidoodledum had just come out and was shining very brightly over the top of the big eucalyptus tree. Mother Dear saw her first; she always does, you know. So, she wished very, very hard for another little daughter, at the same time opening the eucalyptus blossom that she held in her hand. There was a little breeze at that moment, and away flew the tiny creature. When she reached the Baby Star, she stayed a very, very long time indeed. For she was most particular for so small a personage and wished to find just the very sweetest of all the Rumdidoodledum babies to be Margaret Sherman. So she searched and searched but none of them suited exactly, until way off in a corner she found what she was looking for: an adorable little golden-haired mite with eyes that danced and were the color of forget-me-nots. Then the fairy-person knew that she had found the right little sister for John, Martha Mary, Walter and Edward Lee and Liza, so she flew off, happy as happy could be.

“Ever since, Mother Dear has been waiting, waiting for her dream to come true. This morning, just as Lady Rumdidoodledum was fading from the sky, the Baby-person arrived, for all the world as lovely and pink as the dawn that brought her.

“That, Butterfly Dear, is the story of Little Sister Margaret, the dearest of all Lady Rumdidoodledum’s children. And that, you see, is the reason that Mr. Cock Robin sang so happily outside your window this morning and the flowers were all so gay and the sky so blue and bright. You see, all the world is happy at the sound of a baby’s voice.

“Listen, there she is, calling now, for someone to come and love her.”

“I do,” said Butterfly Liza. “And I—and I—and I—and I,” sang all the others.

FINIS