But you can stroll through if you like, and see for yourselves,' and with another nod, he toddled off again.

'How old must _he_ be,' exclaimed Leonore in an awe-struck tone, 'if he counts hundreds of years nothing! I wonder what he meant by saying we could not pick flowers if we tried.'

Hildegarde walked on to where a border of strange blossoms, brilliant in colour and most grotesque in shape, stood in perfect motionlessness. She touched two or three of them gently before she spoke. Then----

'Leonore,' cried she, 'they're _not_ flowers. They're made of metal.'

Leonore sprang forward.

'Oh that's what he meant by saying they needed "dusting" and "straightening,"' she exclaimed. 'Oh, Hildegarde, how queer everything is down here--don't you think we had better go home?'

'Not till we have seen a little more,' said Hildegarde. 'There's nothing to be afraid of. My fairy wouldn't have let us come if there could be anything to hurt us.'

'No--not exactly that,' said Leonore, 'but it's all so _queer_.'

'Come along quickly then,' Hildegarde replied. 'I don't care for this garden, if there's nothing really alive and growing in it. But I daresay we will soon get to somewhere else.'

And so, before very long, they did. They pa.s.sed quant.i.ties of flower-beds and rows, so dazzling in colour and extraordinary in shape that they felt as if they were looking through some fantastic kaleidoscope.

Suddenly a rushing noise made them glance round in the direction whence it came. It was soon explained--a crowd of gnomes were racing towards them; on they came, running, jumping, chattering, and shouting at the top of their voices.

'It's the gardeners,' said Leonore. 'Oh, Hildegarde, I am rather frightened--they might play tricks on us. Do let us get out of their way,' and Hildegarde, to confess the truth, was not unwilling to do so.

'Let us run down here,' she said, turning as she spoke, for they were just then pa.s.sing a side row of high plants which could hide them from view of the approaching crowd.

No sooner said than done. They set off running at full speed, scarcely glancing where they were going, the noise behind them lessening as they ran, till it ceased altogether; and breathless, but glad to have escaped the bevy of gnomes, they at last stood still.

'Now,' said Hildegarde, 'let's look about and see where we've got to.'

CHAPTER VII

A COLLATION UNDER DIFFICULTIES

D'une facon fort civile.

_Le rat de ville et le rat des champs._

They were at the opposite side of the garden from that by which they had entered it, and just before them was a large white tent. A faint sound reached them--a rustle and murmur, as of people moving about busily, but not of voices. The tent appeared closed, but as they went nearer they saw that there were doors or flaps in the stuff it was made of, which could be opened either from within or without.

Hildegarde turned to Leonore.

'We may as well go in,' she said. 'We weren't told not to, and we want to see all we can.'

Leonore was looking a little frightened again.

'We can't knock,' she said; 'there's nothing to knock on. And we can't ring; there's no bell.'

'So the only thing is to walk in,' said Hildegarde.

She drew aside the first flap they came to, and both entered.

It was a busy scene. There was a table right round the tent, and at it gnomes were working actively. A moment's glance sufficed to show that they were packing, for queer-shaped boxes and baskets stood about, and quant.i.ties of moss. For a minute or so no one seemed to notice the visitors. These gnomes were evidently not of the young and giddy cla.s.s; they did not seem to be speaking to each other at all. The children drew still closer to the table. The gnome nearest to them was laying a bright scarlet flower, in shape like a large pitcher with half a dozen small jugs hanging round it, in a basket well filled with moss. He glanced at the newcomers.

'If you please,' said Hildegarde, 'are you packing flowers?'

'You can see that for yourself,' was the reply.

'Yes,' she agreed, 'but we would like to know why you are doing it--I mean where are all the packages to be sent to, and what for?'

'Who sent you down here?' asked the gnome.

'The spinning-wheel fairy,' Hildegarde replied.

The gnome's manner became more cordial.

'Ah well, then,' he said, 'I don't mind explaining things a little. She would not send idle folk to tease us; she is always busy herself. We are packing pattern-flowers. Our artists design them, and our most skilful metal-workers make them, and then we send them up to be copied again.'

'Up to our world, do you mean?' asked Leonore. 'I didn't know we had so many new patterns of flowers.'

The gnome shook his head.

'You don't,' he said; 'only a very few find their way to the place you come from. We send them first to the flower-fairies, and they copy them in common stuff--stuff like what all your flowers up there are made of,'

with a tone of contempt, 'and then they send them off again--seeds or roots--whichever they think best, and that's how new flowers start.'

'But where do they send them to?' asked Hildegarde curiously. 'You say not many come to our world.'

'That's not my business,' he replied. 'Your world isn't the only one.

You can ask the flower-fairies if ever you pa.s.s their way. Now I must get on with my work. If you cross the tent you will see the toy-packers at the other side.'

The children's eyes sparkled.

'Toys,' they repeated. 'Do you make toys down here?'

The gnome nodded.

'That's our princ.i.p.al dealing with your world,' he said. 'You don't mean to say you thought all the toys your shops are full of are made by clumsy human fingers! You should see our toy factory about Christmas-time. Santa Claus has a time of it, choosing and settling, I can tell you.'

Hildegarde and Leonore were breathless with eagerness.

'Oh, how interesting!' they exclaimed. 'Mayn't we see the toy factory?

Do tell us which way to go to get to it.'

But to their disappointment the little packer shook his head.

'Can't be done,' he said. 'Doors are closed to all visitors for six months before Christmas. That's the arrangement with Santa Claus. It would never do for it to leak out about the new inventions before the time. You can see some of the regular toys over there where they're packing, for even on them we're always improving.'