IN WHICH PETER SPILLS THE DEW OUT OF HIS
POCKET AND IT CAUSES A GREAT DEAL OF
BOTHER, BUT MR. SMITH, WHO IS THE KING
OF FAIRIES, PUTS AN END TO THE TROUBLE
“PETER sat on a blade of wheat and swung backwards and forwards and up and down in the wind, till his feet were higher than his head and all the dewdrops spilled out of his pocket. I don’t suppose you have ever seen Peter. He is about this big—that is, as big as a red-headed match—and he has little thin wings made out of the fuzz that grows on the cowslips. Peter has red hair, too, just like the match, and he is freckled, but one can never see the freckles because they are so small. In ways, Peter is a very wonderful boy. You see, he can carry dewdrops in his pocket (when he doesn’t spill them) and he skips around the garden just before the stars go to bed putting a dewdrop on every flower, just as a mother cat would bathe her kitten. Peter likes his work; he knew that every boy has to do something worth while, so he chose the work that was the most fun. Of course it is fun to bathe flowers. They look so bright and sunshiny when they have their drop of dew, just as your face does when Nurse What-do-you-call-her——”
“Nurse Huggins, please,” said Martha Mary.
“Nurse Huggins rubs soap on it and in your eyes. So on this particular May morning Peter sat on the piece of wavy wheat and waited for the biggest and loveliest Mother star, Mrs. Rumdidoodledum, to go away, so that he could go to work.
“Finally, when Mrs. Rumdidoodledum had gone to bed and the sky grew pink like the eyes of Fluffytail, the white rabbit, Rosemary, who was the queen of the flower fairies, came out and clapped her hands to set all the morning elves to work. First, Mr. James, the butler fairy, appeared and pulled all of the dark-cloud curtains out of the sky. Then a hundred and three golden fairies tied daisy ropes to the sun and pulled him up over the hill. Lastly Nurse Agnes, the fattest fairy you ever saw, went around and opened all the flowers’ eyes. Then everyone stood still and waited for Peter to come down and wash them. Of course the stupid Peter couldn’t, because he had swung too high and spilled all the dewdrops. At this, Queen Rosemary was terribly angry—which wasn’t very bad, because the fairies have all been well trained and never lose their tempers. But she said Peter would have to be punished. What do you think Queen Rosemary did? She led Peter down to the red rosebush, tied him to it with a piece of green grass, and left him there for ever and ever so long. Next morning, when Nurse Agnes had opened all the flower children’s eyes, they waited for Peter to come and wash them, but he couldn’t, because he was tied up. The flower children were glad, because they didn’t very much like to be washed, either; it was such a nuisance to get the dewdrops in their eyes and have them burn. You see, flower children are just as silly as other children when they are silly, and just as pretty and happy when they are bright. So they went without washing all that day, and when Mr. James, the butler, pulled the cloud curtains into the sky that night the children were all tired and in bad humor, just like you when you are dirty. They didn’t sleep very well and they had queer dreams, and Midge, the violet baby, woke up and cried three times and kept everyone else awake. Then, the next morning, when the hundred and three small wood sprites went to pull up the sun, he came up frowning. He looked at all the flower children and it spoiled his pleasure to see how dirty and cross they were. So he simply refused to shine at all, but went behind a miserable black cloud that Butler James had forgotten. There he sulked all day. When they had no sun to brighten them, the flower children all fell sick and faded; even sulphur and molasses would not help them, for in that way they were different from you. You see, things were in a very bad way in the flower garden. The flower children were so sickly that the bees would not come to them for honey, because it had become too thin. The sun hid away day after day and refused to shine and there were large black clouds that frightened everyone. The ground got hard and stiff and squeezed the flowers terribly.
“Then Rosemary became very much worried, because she had to keep the flower children well and at the same time punish Peter. So she thought and thought and could not make up her mind what to do. Then along came Mr. Smith. You know, of course, that Mr. Smith is the king of the fairies and he rides on the Southeast Wind. He said to his wife:
“‘The flower children look very sickly and the sky is dark. What is the trouble, my dear?’
“She told him all the confusion she had had, but he laughed, because he was a man, and such things never bother men. He jumped on the Southeast Wind again and rushed up, up, right into the clouds and broke them to small pieces. Of course, when the clouds were all broken, the rain fell out of them and all over the flower children. And then—it was just like eating chocolate cake, it was so nice. The flower children were washed and became bright; the sun came out because he was glad; the bees came buzzing around again, and all the world was happy. Then Queen Rosemary, on her throne in the sweetpeas, was pleased, so she forgave Peter for spilling the dewdrops. She told him, though, that whenever he was bad in the future she would tie him up, because she could count on the Southeast Wind to bring rain and do Peter’s work.
“And so you see, whenever the sky grows black and the flowers look sickly and the sun hides, you may know that Peter has been misbehaving and cannot wash the children. But you must not mind, because the rain is sure to come to do his work, and there is always sunshine after the rain.”
When Flip had finished his story Mother Dear hugged Father and whispered, “Who in the world is this wonderful boy?”
She did not say it very loud, but Flip heard her and got up, with his cap in his hand, and almost spilled Liza. He bowed and said:
“It isn’t really wonderful. Stories like that always happen.”
“Ridiculous!” said Father, in a very stern way. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
“I’m Flip, Liza says,” was the answer, “and so I must be.”
“Please, Mother Dear,” said Martha Mary. “He is nice, and Liza found him. Do you think he might stay for tea?”
“And tell more stories before bedtime,” said Walter.
“And he found Hermit,” said Liza.
Mother Dear whispered something to Father that no one else heard. Then Father said:
“Children, go up to the house and wait for us. We will ask Flip if he will stay this evening.”
The children went rather slowly, for they were anxious to hear what was going to happen. It must have been exciting, for ten minutes later Mother Dear came to the veranda smiling, and Flip’s eyes were all shiny, and Father was in the best of humor.
“Babes,” said Mother Dear, “would you like Flip to stay here?”
“All evening?” asked Edward Lee.
“No. Much longer. As long as he wishes to. Perhaps always.”
You should have heard the children shout. They hugged Mother Dear and hugged Father till his hair was all mussed and danced about Flip until he was all red; but Flip was easily embarrassed. Finally Father said:
“Silence,” in an awesome tone, and added: “Philip is going to stay to work about the place and do chores and care for the flowers—AND tell you stories when you are half-way good and he feels like it. So you had better be good.”
Away went the children to tell the wonderful news to Nurse Huggins, all excepting Martha Mary, who was rather curious.
“Mother Dear,” she said. “Please, who is Flip and how did you get Father to let him stay?”
“Flip is a very fine boy,” said Mother, “and he has aspirations.”
“What are aspirations?” asked Martha Mary.
“You explain to her, Father,” said Mother Dear.
“Well, it is this way,” said Father. “Aspirations are like—like—now let me see—you know—— Oh! You tell her, Mother.”
“Why, it is simple, Dear,” said Mother. “Aspirations—— Flip! Explain to Martha Mary what aspirations are.”
But Flip had followed the other children, to be introduced to Cook and Nurse Huggins, so Martha Mary did not find out for ages and ages why Flip had aspirations or what they were.