The morning following the night on which the Moths took Lily away dawned brightly. The farmer and his wife fancied somehow that their little girl looked rather pale and thin; the mother thought poor Lily was ill; the father thought she was sorry for saying she didn’t break the clock. But the Moths are very clever people, and of course had contrived to make Scarlet Mantle look as like Lily as possible. So she took up the child’s place in the house, and ate bread and butter, pudding, lollies, wore the girl’s new clothes, and was much happier than she had ever been in Mothland. One or two little things Scarlet Mantle could not entirely forget; still, on the whole, she managed to conduct herself as a civilised human child should.
But where was Lily? She was away in the dells with the Moths, and very unhappy. Firstly, she was very tired; secondly, she was hungry; and thirdly, she was made ridiculous. These things were most tantalising, and she was ready to cry her eyes out. No wonder she was tired, because instead of going to bed at seven o’clock, and sleeping soundly every night, she had to go out on the circles and dance till the moon set. She was cold, too, for in place of her warm frocks she had nothing in the world but Scarlet Mantle’s old clothes, made of rose-leaves and gossamer. She might well be hungry also, for the Moths gave her nothing but dew and locusts for food. Still there was one thing more dreadful than all these put together. For some reason or other Lily’s tongue had begun to grow very long.
Yes, it was not painful, but exceedingly ugly, as you may imagine. Little by little it increased and grew longer, until she was obliged to tie it round her neck to keep it out of her way, and the Moths were always laughing about it, which made our little girl very melancholy.
The Queen of the Moths was a very motherly person, and Lily soon made friends with her.
“Your Majesty,” she said one day, “I am very miserable. Indeed, I think I shall die if I am kept here much longer.”
“What is amiss, my child?” inquired the Queen.
“Why am I detained here?” replied Lily. “And why have I so little to eat and drink?”
“My dear child, you know the reason,” answered the Queen. “You told a wicked falsehood, and you are paying the penalty for it now.”
“Ah! your Majesty, it wouldn’t be so bad if I could only get rid of my long tongue,” pleaded Lily. “Dear Queen, please can’t you rid me of my ugly tongue?”
“No, child, I cannot, but you can rid yourself of it.”
“How? Oh, please tell me.”
The Queen of the Moths sighed.
“There is only one way,” she answered. “Your tongue is disfigured, because it hath offended. If you wish to get rid of it, you must acknowledge your fault and confess the lie you told.”
Poor Lily! Like many other children of a larger growth, she was stubborn, and did not like this plan of getting rid of her trouble. Anything rather than saying: “I broke the clock.”
So the child went on among the Moths, suffering cold and hunger, midnight dancing, and the big tongue.
But little Lily loved her father and mother, and did not like to be away from them for ever. She began to steal away from the valley, and go to her own home. Often she stood looking in at the window, and saw her father and mother and Teddy sitting with Scarlet Mantle; and the tears would start to her eyes, and run down her cheeks, and she would cry out in her grief, “Oh! I do so wish I was sitting on my own stool again.”
One night she was standing by the window particularly unhappy, and in a very penitent mood. Had she but the opportunity, she determined to confess her fault. There sat her father in the full flare of the lamp, thinking he had Lily by his side. There was Teddy with his toys, and while the little outcast was gazing, Jane, the nurse, entered with the tea-tray; cups and saucers began to rattle, and her brother and Scarlet Mantle gathered round the table. Oh, to be shut out from all this comfort, and the smiles and caresses of her parents! At length, something led her father to rise from his seat and look out into the darkness beyond. He opened the window and stepped out upon the verandah. In a moment a tiny hand was thrust into his own, and a timid, hesitating voice was heard to say,—
“I—I am—so—sorry. I—broke—the clock.”
“You! Who are you?” cried the father in astonishment.
“I’m Lily, father,” she cried out, with a great sob.
“Lily! Why, Lily is in the dining-room with mamma.”
“No; I am Lily, your own naughty little girl, and—I broke the clock. There!” she sobbed aloud. “The Moths took me away because I told you a falsehood, and they only gave me old faded rose-leaves to wear, and the legs of locusts to eat, and made me drink dew out of the cups of the flowers; and see what a great, long, ugly tongue they have given me for telling that story.”
The trilling voice sounded very remorseful, and the little hand clung nervously to the father, who immediately led the little one into the dining-room.
The first thing on which the eyes of the man rested was the vacant seat of Scarlet Mantle.
“Hallo! Where’s the other one?” he cried.
“The other one?” repeated his wife. “What other one, dear?”
“The—the child, Lily,” replied the astonished pater.
The good woman laughed, and answered, “There she is, at your side,”
“Nonsense; this little lady says she has just come from Mothland, and that she is our Lily whom the Moths stole because she told a falsehood over the breaking of the clock. Surely there aren’t two Lilys?” and the farmer looked beneath the sofa, under the table, and even up the chimney; but Scarlet Mantle, the moment she saw Lily enter the room, vanished through the window, and of course was not to be found.
“Well, this is a queer go, wife.”
“Most extraordinary,” responded the mother, gazing with a doubtful look upon the real Lily, who stood quietly looking from one to the other.
“Oh, this is Sis,” exclaimed Teddy. “There’s the bump on the nose which I made with my ball last week. You’re Lily, who smashed the clock, aren’t you?” he asked, looking up in her face.
“Indeed, Teddy dear, I’m your little sister, and it was I who broke the clock, and the Moths took me away, and gave me this big, frightful tongue, because I said I didn’t. You see here——”
And she put up her hand to her mouth, but lo! the ugly member had vanished. How glad she felt that it was gone! The mere effort to do right had brought its own reward. And as she repeated again, more earnestly, “I broke the clock, and I want you to forgive me,” her father saw she was really his own little girl, and giving her a hearty kiss of forgiveness, seated her in her own accustomed place at table, and they were very happy once more.
That night Lily slept soundly in her own room, in her own cosy bed, and she thought it much better than dancing till she was tired round the Moth circles by the river-bank.
And so thought the Scarlet Mantle!