The second son explained this simply. "You never do, when there are so many children," he said.

While Everychild was nodding slowly in reply to this the scene suddenly changed.

The Old Woman took two or three steps in the direction of her sons and daughters; and the sons and daughters, seeing there was no hope for them, approached her with hanging heads.

The scene which followed was such that Everychild felt certain he could never forget it. One after another the children were seized and fed a few spoonfuls of the broth without any bread. Then each was spanked most soundly. Then one by one they quickly escaped up the ladder until the last of them had disappeared. It was all over in a very short time.

Everychild had now been joined by his companions, who saw the last of the Old Woman's children scramble up the ladder and disappear.

As for the Old Woman, she stood a moment, panting, as well she might, and then she made her way around behind the shoe. Just before she disappeared she glared at Everychild and actually _made a face at him_!

Everychild addressed his companions. "I think we ought to get them to go with us," he said. "That's no way for them to be treated--to be whipped and sent to bed like that."

The giant began dreamily--"There ought to be some way . . ."

Everychild's eyes brightened. "If we could only open the toe of the shoe--though of course we couldn't!"

"We could," declared the giant.

They went forward stealthily. Will o'Dreams following the example of Everychild and moving without a sound.

The giant slipped his fingers under the loose ends of the toe of the shoe and tugged with all his might. After resisting a moment the toe lifted.

What a sight do we behold! One child after another came tumbling out of the shoe until all the Old Woman's sons and daughters had been liberated. They sprang to their feet excitedly, dusting their garments and looking grateful and relieved.

Everychild addressed them briefly, in a low voice: "You're going away with us, all of you. You're not going to stand such treatment any longer. We're all going on a great adventure, and you shall go with us."

The sons and daughters all made eager signs of a.s.sent, though they were careful not to speak a word. Only the little black dog violated the rule of silence. He fairly danced about the entire group of children.

And then they all slipped away into the forest.

Let us, however, remain a moment to note what took place about the shoe.

Presently the Old Woman emerged from behind the shoe. She was yawning prodigiously. Slowly she climbed the ladder. She disappeared. But was this to be the last of her? Not so!

Only a moment later her head and shoulders again appeared. Her eyes were staring wildly. She looked this way and that, all about her. Her eyes clearly revealed that she had realized her loss. At last she began beating her bosom with both hands. Her hair fell down until you could scarcely see her face.

And far off in the forest her children were speeding on their way.

CHAPTER XVII

EVERYCHILD WITH ADDITIONAL COMPANIONS FINDS REFUGE IN AN OLD HOUSE

Everychild and his companions were now journeying through a country where the evenings were very long; and thus it chanced that after they had all departed from the Old Woman who lived in a shoe, there was still a considerable period of daylight before them.

Their number was now greatly augmented by the sons and daughters of the Old Woman, and as a result, they were merrier than they had been before. Just the same, they began to be hungry before night fell, and they were greatly puzzled as to where they might satisfy their hunger.

Indeed, it may be confessed that Hansel became really disagreeable, and remarked--in a muttering fashion, so that no one could be sure of understanding him--that they might be on the right road to find the truth, but that if they did not find food in greater abundance before long, he, for his part, should take some other direction.

There were moments when Everychild was tempted to turn back; but he could not doubt that if they all persevered they would come to a glorious end to their adventure sooner or later, and perhaps very soon.

Unfortunately, they made so much noise as they journeyed that such travelers as might have been on the road, and who might by good chance have offered them food, turned aside and hid from them, fearing, no doubt, that they were the Forty Thieves, or some other equally rapacious band.

Only one incident occurred to break the monotony of the evening hour.

They came upon two adorable little children whom they found clinging together and weeping freely.

One of these they recognized immediately as Little Boy Blue; and as they had never known of his having to bear any very grievous misfortune, they suspected that his tears might be of the sort that are easily dried. Yet it developed that Little Boy Blue had not wept until he had borne up a long time with great fort.i.tude.

The band paused and Everychild asked, "Why are you weeping, Little Boy Blue?"

The reply came between broken sobs. "I could bear it no longer," said Little Boy Blue. "I was required to watch the cows and the sheep from early morn till dark, and often I must needs arise at night to run forth to the fold when there was an alarm of wolves. Day after day my head grew heavier from want of sleep, until at last I could keep my eyes open no longer. I stole under the haystack to s.n.a.t.c.h a few extra winks, and when I was discovered my shame and disgrace were heralded forth to all the world." And again the poor child sobbed without restraint.

"And this dear little girl with you," asked Cinderella, who had been walking side by side with Everychild, "who is she?"

Little Boy Blue checked his grief long enough to stare at Cinderella incredulously. "Is it possible that there is anywhere a person who does not recognize Little Bo-Peep?" he asked.

"So it is!" exclaimed Cinderella. And bending tenderly above the form of Little Bo-Peep she asked, "And why do you weep so bitterly, Little Bo-Peep?"

The child could scarcely speak, so spent was she with weeping; but little by little Cinderella drew from her the truth. The little thing was much too small to be entrusted with the care of sheep, and her life had been made wretched by fear of the great dogs which were never absent from the flocks, and by the dark rumors of wolves which the shepherds were forever repeating.

Grettel expressed her opinion of the case without reserve. "It may be hysteria," she said, "though it looks more to me like a complete nervous break-down."

"I hardly think so," said Cinderella smiling. "We'll just take them along with us, and they'll be all right."

And so, with the addition of yet another pair to their numbers, they quickened their pace along the road.

They were becoming hungrier every minute--even the sons and daughters of the Old Woman who lived in a shoe, who, as we have seen, had had far too light a supper--and while they were willing to sleep without shelter, if they were called upon to do so, they all hoped that they need not go to sleep supperless.

While there was still a short period of daylight remaining they came into an ancient town situated at the foot of a hill on which a castle stood; and upon questioning a number of the townspeople they learned that they had entered the realm of a cruel king, who resided in the castle on the hill.

"Take my advice and escape while ye may," said one ancient man with a long white beard. He had addressed Everychild. He added, "The king hath a grudge against one manly little lad who greatly resembles you, and if he once sets eyes on you I should tremble for the consequences."

Everychild thanked the old man for this well-meant counsel. "But,"

said he, "my friends and I are weary, and we must think of resting for the night before we set forth on our way again."

"Then," said the old man, "you might find shelter in yonder house, which hath long remained empty, because it is said to be haunted." And he pointed to a neglected old house hard by the road. "Though," he added, "I can a.s.sure you that the story which hath it that there are specters in the house is but an idle one. The truth is this: there once dwelt a good woman and her fair daughter in the house; and the cruel king seeing the daughter, he commanded straightway that she be brought to him to become his bride. The good woman, desiring to save her daughter, escaped; and the henchmen of the king, not wishing the real truth to be known, invented the story of a ghost in the house.

And since that day no one has ventured to occupy the house after sundown."

Everychild thanked the old man again; and then, together with all his companions, he entered the old house which had been pointed out to him.

There was, indeed, no trace of ghostly occupants of the house; but on the contrary, the rooms, upstairs and down, speedily became the scene of much jollity. It seemed, also, that the old man had spread the report among the townspeople that a band of children had taken refuge in the house for the night; and many kindly-disposed folk came and brought food and drink, so that there was an abundance for all the children.

After eating heartily, and looking from the windows to observe the castle wherein the king dwelt, they all sought a good night's rest.

And now once again we must leave Everychild and his companions for a little while, and take our place among surroundings at once strange and cruel.