The Wood-Pigeons and Mary

“Then, first of all,” she said, “where does the light come from? It is so beautifully clear and yet so soft I have never seen any light quite like it.”

“No,” said Mr Coo. “I don’t suppose you ever have,” and Mrs Coo murmured something which sounded like, “How could she?”

“And,” Mr Coo continued, “I am sorry to say that your very first question is one which it is impossible for me to answer in any way which it would be possible for you to understand. I can only half do so, by asking you a question. Have you never heard or read that in fairy-land, real fairy-land, no mortal among the very few who have ever found their way there could tell how it was lighted?”

And as he said this, Mr Coo held his head further on one side than Mary had ever yet seen it.

She gave a little jump; she almost thought she would like to clap her hands.

“Oh, Cooie, dear,” she cried, “that is much nicer than any explanation! Do you really mean that – ”

“Sh – softly, please,” he said. “I don’t want you to think I really mean anything. It is just a tiny bit of an idea that I have got leave to put into your head.”

“Leave – got leave,” 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. We’d be frizzled up in a moment, of course, before one could say ‘tic,’ wouldn’t one?”

“Most likely,” replied Mr Coo.

“But still – even if this isn’t fairy-land, it might be close to it?” she went on.

“Yes, it might be,” was the reply.

“Well, then, mayn’t I think it is?”

“It will not do you any harm to do so.”

But here Mrs Coo interrupted.

“Do not tease the dear child,” she said, for Mrs Coo could speak up sometimes. “I promise you you are not far wrong, very far from far wrong indeed, if you do think so.”

Mary felt very pleased and quite ready to go on with her questions. She looked about her to settle what to ask next.

“Please tell me,” she said, “what are all those lots and lots of little arbours opening out of this very big one, and may I run about and peep into them?”

“One question at a time, if you’ve no objection,” said the pigeon on her right hand again. “The small bowers are arranged for separate families when we have our great assemblies. We do everything in a very orderly way. As for looking into them, you may certainly do so – there is a great deal for you to see here, otherwise we would not have brought you. It would not be very amusing to spend all the time in just sitting still, talking to us.”

“I don’t know,” said Mary, rather lazily. “It might not be very amusing, but it is very nice. It is so lovelily warm. But I am not tired now, mayn’t I walk on?”

“I am afraid that to-day,” said one of the Cooies, – which, Mary was not quite sure, as it was sometimes difficult to tell, – “I am afraid – ” but just then Mary gave a great start.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “I believe that’s the bell; the four o’clock bell that Pleasance was to ring for me. I must go. It will take me a good while to get home,” and she looked rather distressed.

“No, it won’t. We will show you a short-cut,” said both the Cooies together. This time she had no doubt that both were speaking. “Do not be afraid. We knew it was about time for you to go home, and we were just going to tell you so when you heard the bell. This is only a first visit, to teach you the way, as it were.”

“Then may I come again very soon, and see all over, and peep into all the little arbours and everything?” asked Mary, her spirits rising again.

“Of course you may. It will be all arranged, you will see,” said Mr Coo. “There are plans which we will tell you about, all in good time. But you may stay a few minutes longer. Pleasance will not expect you back the very moment she has rung for you.”

And Mary was pleased to lean back in her mossy chair for a little bit.

“It is the warm feeling that is so nice here,” she said presently. “Just right – neither too hot nor too cold. I don’t mind its being a little cold, now the winter is coming, of course. Out-of-doors one can run, and in the house Pleasance says my godmother is sure to give me a fire in my own room as soon as I like, so I daresay I shall be warmer even than at auntie’s house. But it is nice to have the summery feeling back again.”

“Coo-coo,” the wood-pigeons replied, which meant that they quite agreed with her.

“Is it always mild and warm in this funny place?” Mary went on.

“Always, just as you feel it,” said Mr Coo.

“How nice!” said Mary. “I don’t wonder you removed to the forest from the Square gardens. Yet you never seemed cold there. I used to watch you last spring, soon after the winter, before it had begun to get warm, you know, and wish I was dressed in feathers like you. That was before I knew you, or had learnt to talk to you. It is cold in the nursery early in the morning sometimes, if the fire hasn’t burnt up well, and the little ones sit at the warm side of the table, you see. I shall love to come back here again,” she went on. “You’ll promise to settle about it soon, won’t you? I do so want to see everything you can show me.”

“We won’t forget,” was the reply. “But it is time for you to be going. Lean back a little more.”

Mary did so, though wondering why, for she was quite getting into the way of obeying her little friends without hesitation.

And to her surprise she felt that the chair, which had seemed almost as if growing out of the ground, tilted back with her, though gently, as if on rockers. Then it swung forwards again, though gently still, and ended by very politely, so to say, though decidedly, turning her out. The surprise, it was all too gentle to make her start, confused her a little. Afterwards she felt almost sure that she must have shut her eyes for half a second, for the next thing she knew, she was standing quite steadily just on the forest-side of the small wicket-gate through which one entered into the garden of Dove’s Nest.

“Dear me, Cooies,” exclaimed Mary, “that was a short-cut. Now, you can never say you are not.”

But before she had time to add “fairies,” she found she was talking to the air, or at any rate not to the wood-pigeons, for they had disappeared.

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.”

And she ran across the lawn in good spirits, not sorry to have missed the chilly walk through the wood.

“It couldn’t but have felt cold after that deliciously warm place,” she thought to herself. “Perhaps that is why they brought me home in that magic way. They wouldn’t like me to get a sore throat, or a sneezing cold, or any of these horrible things. Yes, I may be quite sure they are very, very kind fairies, whatever sort they are exactly.”

Pleasance was in the hall as Mary came in. She looked up brightly.

“Well, you have come home punctually, Miss Mary,” she said. “I suppose you heard the bell quite distinctly?”

“Quite,” said Mary, “both times.”

“That is very nice,” said the maid. “Now we can feel quite comfortable about you when you are amusing yourself in the forest. And you don’t feel chilly, I hope, Miss? It would never do for you to catch cold while you are with us.”

“No, indeed,” said Mary, smiling. “I shouldn’t like it at all. But you needn’t be afraid. It felt quite warm in – the forest. At least after the first it did. Shall I get ready for tea now? I suppose godmother will be home soon.”

“Sure to be so,” replied Pleasance. “My lady is always punctual. Indeed I thought I heard the ponies’ bells in the distance just before you came in. It will be nice for Miss Verity to find you back and ready to welcome her.”

Chapter Nine.