Part 18

The next day, in spite of the doctor’s promises, Teddy was not allowed to sit up.

It was a raw, blustering day, and every feeling of spring seemed gone from the air; the wind rattled at the windows, and Hannah built up the fire until it roared.

Teddy did not feel much disappointed at not being allowed to sit up, for Harriett came over with her paint-box, and they began coloring the pictures in some old magazines that mamma gave them; the bed was littered with the pages.

After a while mamma left them and went down into the kitchen to bake a cake.

“I wish I had brought my best apron over,” said Harriett, “for then I could have stayed for dinner if you wanted me to.”

“Why can’t you stay anyhow?” asked Teddy.

“Oh, I can’t,” said Harriett. “I must go to dancing-class right after dinner, and I have to wear my apron with the embroidered ruffles.”

“Harriett, why don’t you go home and get it, and then perhaps you could have diner up here with me; wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes, but maybe Aunt Alice doesn’t want me to stay.”

“Yes, she does,” said Teddy. “I know she does, because she said she was so glad to have you come and amuse me.”

“Well, I’ll go home and ask my mother. I don’t know whether she’ll let me.”

“You won’t stay long, will you?”

“No, I won’t,” promised Harriett. Then she put on her jacket and hat and ran down-stairs.

Teddy went on with his painting by himself for a while, but it seemed to him Harriett was gone a long time. He called his mother once, and she came to the foot of the stairs and told him she couldn’t come up just yet.

Then Teddy began thinking of the Counterpane Fairy, and the stories she had shown him. He wondered if she wouldn’t come to see him to-day. She always came when he was lonely, and he was quite sure he was getting lonely now. Yes, he knew he was.

“Well,” said a little voice just back of the counterpane hill, “it’s not quite so steep to-day, and that’s a comfort.” There was the little fairy just appearing above the tops of his knees, — brown hood, brown cloak, brown staff, and all. She sat down with her staff in her hand and nodded to him, smiling. “Good-morning,” she said.

“Good-morning,” said Teddy. “Mrs. Fairy, I was wondering whether you wouldn’t like it if I kept my knees down, and then there wouldn’t be any hill.”

“No,” said the fairy, “I like to be up high so that I can look about me, only it’s hard climbing sometimes. Now, how about a story? Would you like to see one to-day?”

“Oh, yes!” cried Teddy. “Indeed, I would.”

“Then which square will you choose? Make haste, for I haven’t much time.”

“I think I’ll take that red one,” said Teddy.

“Very good,” said the fairy, and then she began to count.

As she counted, the red square spread and glowed until it seemed to Teddy that he was wrapped in a mist of ruddy light. Through it he heard the voice of the Counterpane Fairy counting on and on, and as she counted he heard, with her voice, another sound, —at first very faintly, then more and more clearly: clink-clank! clink-clank! clink-clank! It reminded him a little of the ticking of the clock on the mantle, only it was more metallic.

“FORTY-NINE!” cried the Counterpane Fairy, clapping her hands.

And now the sound rang loud and clear in Teddy’s ears; it was the beating of hammers upon anvils.

When Teddy looked about him he was standing on a road that ran along the side of a mountain. All along this road were openings that looked like the mouths of caverns, and from these openings poured the ceaseless sound of beating, and a ruddy glow that reddened all the air and sky.

It all seemed very familiar to Teddy, and he had a feeling that he had seen it before.

Stepping to the nearest cavern he looked in, and there he saw the whole inside of the mountain was hollowed out into forges that opened into each other be means of rocky arches. In every forge were little dwarfs dressed in leather and hammering at pieces of red-hot iron that lay on the anvils.