"Was pouring down upon the ship," continued the Sage, "and almost freezing the poor soldiers, who had great difficulty as it was, in dragging the heavy cannon up the steep side of the mountain, upon which he was standing; still leaning over the side of the balloon, she peered down eagerly into the sky. There was not a soul in sight.

"Suddenly a cry of 'Fire!' rang through the town, and two or three of them hastily putting on their best clothes, joined the picnic party under the gnarled oak tree in the meadow, and their joyous laughter rang merrily down the old staircase, where the grandfather's clock stood, tick-tick-ticking, like the great volcano which yawned at their very feet, and into which the two boys plunged merrily, and were soon splashing about in the shallow water like a mahogany chest of drawers upon the sands of time."

The Sage paused.

"Do you like it?" he inquired, anxiously.

"Not much, I'm afraid," said d.i.c.k. "You see, we can't quite understand what it's all about."

"Well, neither do I," said the Sage, "because, you know, I'm making it up as I go along."

"Then it isn't true?" asked Marjorie.

"True? Nonsense! You wanted a story, didn't you? This is a real story; there isn't a particle of truth in it anywhere."

"Oh, we didn't mean that kind of story," explained Marjorie, "we meant a tale."

"What kind of a tale would you like--a Fishes' tale, a Birds' tale, or an Animals' tale?"

"A birds' tale, please," said Marjorie, after consulting the others.

"All right," said the Sage, "this is a lot of birds' tales all tied up together, and is called a fable----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The gossiping goose."]

"Is it one of aesop's?" asked d.i.c.k, who thought that it would look grand for him to have heard of aesop's fables.

"No, it isn't," said the Sage, rather crossly; "it's one of my own! Now then, are you ready? I call it--"

"THE GOSSIPING GOOSE."

"A Crested Grebe, a Spoonbill, and a Goose, I beg to say, Met one fine day, And compliments were pa.s.sed the most profuse.

'How very well you look, my dear,' said one, 'That shade of red Upon your head, So sweet; and how _delightfully_ your hair is done.'

And each had gratifying things to say, With gushing smile, Upon the style Of all the others' holiday array.

Then Mrs. Goose, with most superior sneer, Said, 'Have you seen That dress of green That Mrs. Peac.o.c.k's wearing now, my dear?

'She looks a perfect guy, and then--her feet And legs! Oh, lor!

I never saw A bird so clumsy, or so indiscreet.

'I met her at the Concert Hall last week, A poor affair, I do declare, I wonder that the Songsters have such cheek.

'Miss Nightingale was singing far too loud; I never heard So harsh a bird, I wonder how she dared to face the crowd.

'Miss Thrush had quite a decent voice, I hear, Some years ago (A score or so), But now her voice is giving way, I fear.

'She sang as badly as did Mrs. Lark, Who all agreed, Had every need Of lessons, to bring _her_ up to the mark.

'Miss Linnet had a really dreadful cough.

As for the rest, They quite distressed The company. Well, good-by, dears. I'm off.'

And, while the Spoonbill and the other bird Went on their way, I heard one say, 'That Mrs. Goose is really most absurd.

'She talks about the Peac.o.c.k's gaudy dress: If she prefers That gray of hers, I don't admire her taste, I must confess.

'And as for legs and feet--well, I declare, The pair she's got Are really not The kind that I'd be seen with anywhere.

'While as for singing, that _she_ should complain Of other folk Is past a joke, I vow I'll not be friends with her again.'

'My dear,' the other said, 'remember this: A critic she Of high degree, For though she can't sing well, the goose can _hiss_.'"

The Sage had scarcely finished when a sound of weeping and wailing was heard, and presently a whole troop of gnomes appeared in the onion field. They were crying bitterly, and to the children's great surprise several of them had grown enormously tall and others equally stout.

They came straight up to the Sage's hut, and with tears streaming down their faces beseeched him to help them. They had foolishly been making use of the authority which the Little Panjandrum's Amba.s.sador had given to the children; and although it acted one way, and made them the size that they wished to be, it would not turn them back again.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "They were crying bitterly."]

"And my wife and family refuse to have anything to do with me," said one ridiculously tall individual.

"And I can't squeeze into my own house, anyhow," wept the stout one.

"The only way," said the Sage, after a moment's thought, with his forehead wrinkled into deep furrows, "is to send the Ki-Wi to the Court of the Little Panjandrum for a fresh authority. It's no use your having this one back if it won't act properly, is it?" he inquired, turning to the children.

"Certainly not," said d.i.c.k; "but who is the Ki-Wi, please?"

"Oh, he's the Court Messenger," explained the Sage, "and is the only one here allowed to enter the Court of the Little Panjandrum without permission."

"Go and fetch him," he continued.

And the gnomes disappeared, returning presently with the Ki-Wi (who turned out to be a curious kind of bird), and the written authority, which had been taken from the children.

"Let me look at it," said the Sage, holding out his hand for the paper.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Produced a large doc.u.ment and began to read."]

"Why, no wonder it won't act for the gnomes," he exclaimed, when he had read it.

"It mentions you all by name--just try it yourselves, will you?"

d.i.c.k took the paper from him, and said loudly, "We wish to be our own size again."

To their great delight the children at once found themselves their usual height, and the onions, which had looked before like huge trees, now only reached a little above their heads, while the Sage and the other gnomes looked the tiniest little creatures again.

"This is better," said d.i.c.k, shaking himself as though he had come out of the water.

"Yes, isn't it good to be ourselves once more," said Marjorie.

While Fidge jumped about delightedly, breaking down several of the onion plants, and almost treading on the Sage's hut.