Mrs. Molesworth

“ Miss Verity replied, “it is a rather remarkable cloak, and the odd thing is that though I have had it nearly all my life, I do not really know its history, and there is no one who can tell it to me.”
“I have never seen a cloak the least like it,” said Blanche, stroking the soft feathers as she spoke. “But then,” she went on, half-laughingly, “it only suits Dove’s Nest. Nothing there seems quite like anywhere else: don’t you think so, Mary?”
“Yes,” said Mary. “Everything is prettier and funnier than anywhere else.” ”

“ For a moment or two she did not speak, then she turned to her godmother and said rather shyly—“It’s like some of my fairy stories—the forest, I mean; isn’t it, godmother?”
Miss Verity smiled, and by the look in her eyes Mary saw that she understood.
“Yes,” she said. “I think that is why I like to live close to a forest. It seems full of fairy stories.” Mary gave a little sigh of pleasure. It is very nice to feel that big people know what you mean, even though you cannot say what you are feeling in very clear words. ”

“ Mary was thinking of her feathered friends, and her godmother, from living so much alone, perhaps, was at no times a great talker. And the evening feeling in the air—the autumn evening feeling—seemed to make one silent. The feeling that children sometimes describe as being “as if we were in church.”
And then through the cool clear air came a soft rushing sound—nearer and nearer. There is no sound quite like it—the soft rush of many little wings. Without saying anything to each other, Mary and Miss Verity stood still and listened, looking upwards.
“It is the wood-pigeons,” said Miss Verity ”

“ Mary repeated. “Whom have you got leave from?”
“This place does not all belong to us,” was the reply. “You saw by the sign of the grey feather that I had to get leave to bring you in here. And that is all I can say—at present, any way.”
“But it does mean,” Mary persisted, “it must mean that this is fairy-land?”
“No,” said Mr Coo, “that does not follow. You don’t need to be in the sun to feel the good of its light and warmth.”
“Certainly not,” said Mary, laughing. “There wouldn’t be much left of us in the sun. ”

“ Mary almost laughed, though she felt a tiny bit provoked too.
“They do treat me rather too babyishly,” she thought. “They might explain what they are going to do, a little more. But then, after all, in fairy stories they never do, and I am now quite sure that I am in a sort of fairy story—that is to say in all to do with the Cooies. If it was the night I should think I was dreaming; but it isn’t the night, and I am very glad of it. It is much nicer to have really to do with fairies.” ”

“ She’s my daily governess, but I never see her except at lessons, and she never talks about anything except lessons—she’s rather dull,” and Mary sighed. “And most of all,” she went on again, “nurse. She is the worst of all, though she’s quite kind. She doesn’t understand the tiniest bit in the world about fairy stories, you see. She thinks they’re just like nursery rhymes. Fancy, putting fairy stories and nursery rhymes together!” ”

“ Then one of them or both—she was often not sure if only one, or the two together, were speaking—turned to the mass of birds clinging to the gate.
“How inhospitable you are!” they said. “What a welcome to a friend! Don’t you see she is a friend? She has the Queen’s feather, and she has learnt our language,” and then Mary felt that all the pairs of eyes of all the many birds were looking at her, and scarcely knowing that she did so, she raised her hand to her head, and touched the little grey feather nestling in her cap. ”

“ She looks quite at home, and not at all cold or starved. Anyway Blanche and I always call her the white dove. She is so pretty, and one day we thought we saw something gleaming on her neck, like a tiny gold chain—that almost seems as if she was a pet bird, doesn’t it?”
“Or a fairy one?” said Miss Verity, smiling.
They had lingered at Crook Edge rather longer than Mary’s godmother had intended, and though the day was still fine, it was beginning to get dark and the clouds were massing as if rain might be not very far off. Mary gave a little shiver, and Miss Verity looked a trifle uneasy. ”

“ And I like the country much better than a town.”
“Even in winter?” asked Miss Verity.
Mary hesitated.
“Yes, I think so,” she said, “though the shops are very pretty about Christmas time, and the streets lighted up when it begins to get dark in the afternoons, do look so nice. But I daresay, godmother, here it is never dull or gloomy, even in winter. The forest must look lovely with snow on the branches, and shiny icicles, and I should think it’s always rather dry to walk about there, on the fir needles.” ”

“ Mary took good notice, by her godmother’s wish, of the paths they came by. Not that there was any real fear of her getting lost in the forest, but it was better for her to know her way about.
“That dark place can be seen so far off,” said Mary, “that I should always know pretty well whereabouts I was.”
“I think,” said Miss Verity, “I think I shall tell Pleasance to ring the big bell for you, if you are strolling about alone, and it is getting time for you to come in. You can hear it a long way off—farther off than you would ever care to go: sounds carry far in the forest.” ”

“ Miss Verity smiled, and then Mary noticed that she was holding a small packet in her hand.
“After all, it is nothing so very bad,” she said. “It is only, dear, that your visit must come to an end a few days sooner than I had hoped.”
“I believe the Cooies knew it,” thought Mary to herself.
“My old friend,” continued her godmother, “whom I have been to see several times lately, is failing fast. She is feeling lonely too, and has begged me to go to stay with her for some weeks as soon as possible. I have promised to do so the day after to-morrow, so to-morrow, dear, Pleasance will take you home. ”

“ Michael gave a sort of grunt.
“I shouldn’t think it would be very lively for her,” he said, “going to stay with an old maid like that, all by herself. Better be here with you, mother, and Fritz and Twitter.”
“Ah, but you don’t know Miss Verity,” said his mother. “She’s not like an old maid, or rather she is the very nicest old maid that ever lived. She is full of spirits and very clever and very kind, and I am sure she would be just the person to understand a rather fanciful child like Mary. Mary has scarcely seen her, but I am sure they would get on, and she knew Mary’s own mother so well. ”

“ Mary did so: before she got to “eleven” she had become rather sleepy, and began to dream that she was the little sister in the fairy story of the Eleven White Swans, and that it was their wings she heard; then something touched her cheek, and she started and opened her eyes, and, she was standing at the gate leading into her godmother’s garden, the two wood-pigeons on the path in front of her, looking up at her!
“Oh Cooies,” she exclaimed, half-laughing, “you have brought me back quickly this time. How did you do it?”
“Never mind about that,” they replied. “Here you are all safe and sound.” ”

“ But I love alive things best, aunt. I mean alive like us—birds, and squirrels, and rabbits, and dormice.” Her aunt smiled.
“I am afraid the dormice won’t be very alive just now,” she replied. “That’s to say they will be fast asleep. I have heard that they wake up once or twice in the winter, just to have a good stretch and nibble a few nuts, but I don’t know if it is true. You must ask Miss Verity.”
Mary’s eyes sparkled. ”

“ For so many would have said to themselves, ‘Oh, I’m sure to be too late, so I’ll just stay on and enjoy myself a little longer.’ If I had not satisfied myself that you are to be trusted, my Mary, I could not let you stay alone in the forest, though for a good dutiful child there can be no safer place. ”

“ I daresay I shall hear nothing more of them—ever—or perhaps they’ll come, but after I am gone; very likely the white dove will come back to Crook Edge after Blanche and Milly are gone. I don’t believe birds have got any hearts, whether they’re half fairies or not.”
“Mary,” said Miss Verity, who noticed Mary’s moods more than the little girl knew, “will you gather some fir-cones for me this afternoon? I shall not be going a drive, as the ponies need shoeing, and besides that, I have some long letters to write. So you can amuse yourself in the forest if you like.” ”

“ I shall always like the country best, Mike.”
“So should I,” said her cousin, “that’s to say if it was a choice between it and a town, though I like the sea best of all, of course. But don’t get melancholy again, Moll. Something may turn up to help you through the gloomy months.”
“I shall miss you so,” said Mary, “and there’s something else I shall miss too.”
She was thinking of the Cooies, and she was glad to feel that once Michael had seen them and knew about them, she would be able to tell him of their going away, and that they only came back out of affection for her now and then. ”

“ There are fairy secrets sometimes which it would be almost impossible to tell to anybody.
The rest of that evening and the next morning passed very cheerfully, even though Michael’s time was to be so short at home. Nurse proved quite as kind and interested about the Christmas presents as Mary had expected. Indeed there was nothing she would not have been interested about if it concerned her eldest nursling, as big Michael was, and she was really fond of Mary too, and pleased to see her happy, though she had only had the care of her for a much shorter time than the others. ”

“ It must be the Queen who goes now and then to coo to Blanche and Milly at Crook Edge. A most beautiful, quite, quite white dove, with a ring of gold round her neck.”
“You may call it gold,” said Mr Coo, “but it is really more beautiful than any gold you have ever seen. Yes—that is our Queen. Your friends are highly favoured. They are good, and they have had sorrow—”
“Yes,” Mary interrupted, “they are still dressed in black, and I am sure they are good.” ”

“ The two specks grew larger and larger, as they came nearer, and after alighting for a moment on the familiar bough of their own old tree home, apparently to smooth their feathers and take a tiny rest, the wood-pigeons fluttered across to the window-sill.
“Oh, I am so pleased to see you,” said Mary. “I was so afraid it was going to rain. Aren’t you tired and out of breath with flying so far?”
“No, thank you—flying never makes us out of breath. It is not like your running—not nearly such hard work. Our wings get a little stiff sometimes, if there is much wind and we have to battle against it. ”

“ When luncheon was over, Miss Verity went upstairs almost immediately to put on her out-door things, and Mary waited in the porch to watch for the ponies coming round and to see her godmother start.
Jackdaw and Magpie seemed very bright and eager to be off, and they looked so pretty that for a moment or two Mary half regretted that she had asked to be left behind. But just as she was thinking this, she heard again the voice from the trees, “coo-coo,” and she looked up with a smile.
“Oh my dear Cooies,” she said, “you are getting too clever! ”

“ I think one is often inclined to do this in the country, especially when it is no longer summer, and the evenings are less warm and mild—it is a sort of “good-night” to the outside world before you have to close the doors and windows of your own nest, hoping that all the furred and feathered friends are snug and cosy in theirs.
“It will be fine to-morrow, I feel pretty sure,” said Miss Verity, “and perhaps milder. I hope so, for my own sake as well as yours, Mary, for I have to drive rather a long way. Now run upstairs and take off your things quickly, for tea will be quite ready, I am sure.” ”

“ You know how I’ve been wanting you and watching for you at my window, and now you’ve let half the afternoon go without coming near me. It’s too late now for anything.”
“You are quite mistaken,” was the reply. “There is plenty of time. Business first and pleasure afterwards. You have got a nice basketful of cones, so now you can come with us with a clear conscience.”
“I wish you wouldn’t bother about my conscience; it’s all right,” said Mary, rather crossly still, though in her heart she quite trusted the Cooies, and was delighted to go with them. ”

“ Mr Coo followed her example, and then they picked up some crumbs in quite an elegant manner—not at all in the hurried greedy way that some birds do.
“While you are having your luncheon,” said Mary, “I will tell you why I was so anxious to see you. You know my cousin—my big cousin—Michael—no, perhaps you don’t, but it doesn’t matter. He is my favourite cousin, and there isn’t anything I don’t tell him. He always understands and never laughs at me—at least, he has been like that till just now. He is a sailor, and he is very seldom at home. ”