Knock Three Times!

“I’ll go in first, shall I?” he said. “There’s no light in the passage, and you might fall over something.”

Jack and Molly followed him into the house, and stood hesitating on the mat while he strode down the passage and opened a door at the farther end. A dim light crept out and thinned the darkness. From the room came a low murmur in familiar tones.

“Come along,” called Glan. “Would you mind just shutting the front door. Thanks very much.”

It was a small room at the end of the passage with a round table in the centre of it on which stood a shaded lamp. At the table sat Glan’s father with his elbows resting on a large open book in front of him, while his hands, held to the sides of his head, covered his ears; an expression of profound melancholy was on his face as he gazed at the children on their entrance. Bending over the fireplace was a genial, comfortable-looking, elderly woman, who was stirring something in a saucepan.

“Bless their hearts, how tired they look,” she exclaimed, as she caught sight of the children’s faces.

“It’s the little lady and her brother that I told you about, Aunt Janet,” said Glan. “Is everything ready for them?”

“Yes, my dear,” replied Aunt Janet. “The beds is sweet and aired, and there’s a bowl of hot broth for both of them, bless their innocent souls, which’ll be cooked in a minute or two. Sit you down, dearies, and rest yourselves, and Aunt Janet’ll have things ready in no time for you.”

“They’re sure to be tired,” said Glan. “They were chased up the hill by the Pumpkin,” he added in a lower voice.

But his father had heard. “What was that?” he asked mournfully, taking his hands down from his ears.

So Glan had to explain to him the incident at the gate, and how the Pumpkin nearly got in. The old man listened intently, groaning every time Glan paused for breath, and rolling his eyes whenever the Pumpkin was mentioned by name. At the end of the story he hastily stopped his ears again, and bent over his book muttering faintly that he “couldn’t abide that bell ringing.”

“Poor old father,” said Glan, compassionately, “it does upset him so.”

Jack and Molly were glad of the hot broth, and Aunt Janet, as she fussed about them anxiously, was pleased to see that the steaming bowls were soon emptied.

“Sleep well, for there is hard work before you; but courage—and everything will be well,” said Glan, beaming down at them as he wished them good-night. While his father shook his head mournfully, and sighed as he gave them each a limp hand.

Aunt Janet lit two long candles, and conducted them up a flight of high narrow stairs to the top of the house where there were two small rooms with little white beds, and freshly laundered window curtains.

“Good-night, dearies,” she said. “Blow the candles out safely. I hope you’ll find everything you want here.” Her eyes grew very kind. “I had a little girl and boy once,” she said, “and I know they’d like you to use their things—if they knew—so I’ve put them all out for you. They were just about your age, and I—and they—good-night, dearies,” she stooped suddenly and kissed them each on the forehead.

CHAPTER VIII

Aunt Janet Puts on her Best Bonnet

A SUNBEAM creeping through the window and along the floor to Molly’s pillow awoke her in the morning; she sat up with a start, puzzled for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings; then she remembered—and giving a long sigh, snuggled down again for a few more minutes while she thought things over.

How strange it all seemed, just like some wonderful dream, she thought—and yet it was not a dream. Here were she and Jack in the middle of a real, exciting adventure. An adventure in which they were taking an important, and (she hoped) useful part. What would be the result of their search for the Black Leaf? Would either of them find it? And what had Old Nancy meant by saying that she thought only one of them would be successful? Wouldn’t she and Jack be allowed to search together, Molly wondered. She hoped Jack wouldn’t be sent to one part of the country, and she to another. She tried to recall all the information and warnings that had been given to them about the Pumpkin, and the more she recalled, the more difficult the task in front of them appeared to be.

Molly stretched out her arm and fumbled about in the clothes that lay on a chair by the bedside; she presently drew forth the box of matches, Old Nancy’s gift, and proceeded to examine this attentively, it being her first opportunity of doing so. Just an ordinary box of matches—at least, so it appeared—only there was no maker’s name on the outside, simply a dark blue wrapper. There were a dozen matches inside—Molly counted. “I wonder if Jack has got the same number,” she thought. Then hearing a distant clock strike seven, she put the match box back in her satchel and sprang out of bed.

While she was dressing she noticed that the bell which had been tolling solemnly when she fell asleep was now silent.

When Molly was ready to go downstairs she climbed on a chair and looked out of the window into the street below, which was already alive with people moving to and fro on their early morning business. Everything looked so clean and fresh, and the sun was shining, and a breeze greeted Molly, so warm and sweetly scented that all the little doubts and fears that had crowded in on her, trying to cloud her naturally sunny outlook, were suddenly swept clean away, and Molly felt that everything was possible and good on such a perfect morning. She jumped lightly to the ground and ran across the room humming.

A patch of sunshine lay on the floor by the door, and as Molly stopped for a second to do up her shoelace she saw a curious shadow form on the patch. And the shadow was shaped like a pumpkin! Startled, she looked hastily over her shoulder: but there was nothing there. And even as she looked again at the sunlit patch, the shadow passed away.

“Why, it must have been only a cloud, passing before the sun,” she told herself, relieved. “How silly of me.”

But, nevertheless, she felt suddenly depressed; she did not hum any more and she walked slowly downstairs, instead of running with her usual quick step. In passing Jack’s room, the door of which stood wide open, she saw that the room was empty. So Jack had raced her, and was already downstairs.

“Yes, he’s been up this last half-hour, and he’s out in the back garden now,” Aunt Janet informed her. “Did you sleep well, dearie? Run out and tell your brother breakfast’ll be ready in three minutes, will you, dearie?”

And Aunt Janet bustled about between the pantry and the fireplace and the breakfast table, in the little back room. A very tempting breakfast table it looked, too; set for five, and everything so spick and span, from the crisp brown rolls to the long glass vase filled with yellow flowers standing in the centre of the white cloth.

So Molly went in search of Jack, through the open back door into the garden. The garden which was long and narrow, was full of bushes and flowers and little winding paths. At the farthest end stood six tall elm trees in a row, and it was here that Molly spied Jack and Glan’s father, standing, talking earnestly together.

“Hullo, Molly,” called Jack, when he saw her. “Come and look here.”

Molly made her way down the garden, and saw that Jack and the old man were both gazing down at something at the foot of one of the trees. It was a dark red plant-pot filled with dry soil.

“Mr—er—he was just telling me—what do you think, Molly?” said Jack excitedly. “The Black Leaf came up in this plant-pot one year!”

“Oh,” Molly gasped, and gazed at the pot with awe. Such an ordinary plant-pot it looked, with nothing at all about it to suggest that it had ever been connected with any magic.

“Of course, missie,” Glan’s father explained mournfully, “it was no use me a-picking it that year, you see, because there was no Pumpkin to pick it for. Besides,” he added bitterly, “it on’y came up for spite. That’s all—pure spite, I call it—just to taunt me as it were. I couldn’t bide the sight of it—especially as the Pumpkin was out of reach—in—in your World.”

“What would have happened if you had picked it?” asked Jack.

“Nothing would have happened. At the end of the thirteen days it would have withered away, and the plant might not have come up again, perhaps—but I don’t know about that. Still, if it hadn’t, what should we have done this year when we do want it? Eh?”

“Yes,” said Molly. “It is a good job you didn’t pick it, because, supposing it didn’t come up again—I suppose there would have been no hope of getting rid of the Pumpkin this time?”

“Unless Old Nancy had discovered another spell,” suggested Jack.

The old man shook his head dismally, and ran his fingers through his beard.

“No,” he said. “I had a feeling—in my bones—that we should need the Black Leaf some day. I always said the Pumpkin would return from—from your World. And then—and then those dreams I had–”

“Oh, why didn’t the Leaf come up in your plant-pot this year!” sighed Molly.

“Things never happen like that,” mumbled Glan’s father.

“They do sometimes,” said Molly.

But the old man only shook his head.

“There’s Aunt Janet calling us to breakfast,” said Molly. “I was sent out to fetch you. Come along!” And she led the way back indoors again, followed by the other two.

“Now, what have you been doing in the garden?” cried Aunt Janet, catching sight of the three serious faces. “Looking at that old plant-pot again, I’ll be bound. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she said, shaking her head at Glan’s father. “Brooding over that miserable old pot—before breakfast, and on such a lovely morning too. If I had my way I’d smash the ugly old thing up and have done with it—though really I believe you enjoy it”—she disregarded the old man’s reproachful glance, and clapped some plates on the table a little impatiently. “What good does it do, brooding over things that are past and gone and can’t be helped! It’s the future we can help, and it’s the future we should give our thought to, and make it better than the past. Glan! Glan! Where’s Glan! Call Glan, somebody. He’s in the shop!”

But Glan had heard, and appeared at that moment through the glass-windowed door that led from the parlour to the shop.

“Good-morning all, good-morning,” he cried, beaming and rubbing his hands together. “What a perfect morning, to be sure. And did the little lady and her brother rest well after the strenuous time they had yesterday?”

“Very well, thank you,” said Molly.

“Slept like a top,” said Jack.

“Ah, that’s right,” said Glan, taking his place at the table, round which the others were already seated. “And what is this our good Aunt has provided? Scrambled eggs! Excellent, excellent indeed. What a perfect morning. Who could feel sad at heart on a day like this!”

He seemed in great spirits, and started to hum as he helped himself to salt, while his father rolled his eyes up leaving only the whites visible, to signify his despair at the incurable cheerfulness of his son.

“Come, come now, and how is father this morning?” Glan continued, pushing his father’s chair closer to the table and tucking a serviette under his fathers chin, for all the world as if he were a baby in a high chair.

“He’s been at that old plant-pot again,” said Aunt Janet.

“Bad wicked man,” smiled Glan, wagging his spoon at his Father, who received all Glan’s bantering remarks with the same stolid expression, and without the flicker of a smile. Jack marvelled at Glan’s perseverance with his Father, when his attempts to cheer him up were always without success. He began to doubt whether the old man could smile, and tried to imagine him doing so—but failed.

“After breakfast,” said Glan, “if he is very good and promises not to pick the currants out of the buns, Father shall mind the shop while the little lady and her brother, and Aunt Janet, and yours faithfully, put on their best bonnets with the bead trimmings, and their elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves”—he gave an elaborate wink at Aunt Janet—“and sally forth to learn what plans are afoot, and to find out what portion of the country we are each to search.”

“Will Jack and I be allowed to go together?” asked Molly, anxiously.

“Certainly, if you wish,” said Glan.

“Of course we’d rather, wouldn’t we, Moll?” said Jack.

And she assented quickly, hoping at the same time that now they would probably both win—or fail together.

When breakfast was finished, and while Aunt Janet went to put on her bead-trimmed bonnet, and elastic-sided boots, and brown cotton gloves, Glan showed the two children over the shop. It contained a most tempting array of sugared cakes and buns and pastries and bread—all of which Glan told them he made himself, in the bakehouse at the side of the shop. The shop was sweet and clean, like the rest of the house, and the sight of Glan, in his white cap and overall, standing behind the counter and beaming cheerfully around him was a sight to lighten the heart of anyone—except Glan’s father.

“It’s fortunate that your Father can look after the place while you are out,” remarked Molly. “But I thought you said he was taken back and given a place at Court, didn’t you? I thought that was why he wore a velvet robe and keys.”

“Quite right,” said Glan, “but it is only a very unimportant position. You see, he’s getting old—he only has to turn up at Court every Tuesday and Friday. It keeps him amused. On his free days he does all sorts of things to fill up his time.... Ah, here he comes,” he continued, as his Father shuffled into the shop. “Now, be very careful, Father, and look after everything nicely while we’re away, won’t you? And here—you’d better wear this or you’ll spoil that lovely velvet robe.”

And Glan whipped off his white apron and made his Father put it on. This, over his gorgeous velvet robe, gave him a comical appearance which was by no means lessened by the melancholy expression on his face. Glan gave a chuckle. With arms akimbo he surveyed his Father with his head on one side, then he chuckled again. Such an irresistible, infectious chuckle it was that Jack and Molly, despite their efforts not to, started to laugh. Glan went on chuckling and laughing, and once having started the three of them continued laughing and could not stop, until the tears came into their eyes, and Jack had a stitch in his side, and Aunt Janet appeared, all ready to start, to see what all the noise was about.

“Poor old Father … it’s too bad to laugh … but really … really …” and Glan dried his eyes on the sleeve of his white overall, and started to laugh again.

But Glan’s Father could see nothing to laugh at, and had continued dusting the scales slowly and methodically all the time.

“These jam puffs are two a penny, aren’t they?” he asked, quite unconscious of the figure he presented.

“Does your Father ever laugh?” Jack asked, as soon as they were outside the shop.

“Never to my knowledge,” said Aunt Janet, “and I’ve kept house for him these twenty years.”

“I’ve seen him smile—twice—as far as I can remember,” replied Glan. “But that was a long time ago.... Perhaps he’ll laugh one of these days—when we find the Black Leaf?”

They made their way down the street and into the market square, which presented a very different appearance in the daylight from the sleepy, peaceful look it had worn last night in the moonlight. Now it was awake and all was bustle and hurry, with shops open, and people passing to and fro.

“Where did you say we were going first?” asked Jack.

“I didn’t say,” said Glan, “but I should think you might guess by Aunt Janet’s bonnet that it’s somewhere very special.”

“We’re going to the Palace, dearies,” Aunt Janet broke in.

“To the Palace!” exclaimed the children.

“And shall we see the King?” Molly added.

“Of course,” said Glan.

At this moment their attention was attracted by the sound of people running and shouting, and they saw that a big crowd was rapidly gathering round the market cross. “What is it?” “What’s the matter?” people near by were asking each other, and unable to get information they would rush off and join the jostling, excited mob in order to find out for themselves.

“Wait here a moment,” said Glan, “and I’ll go and see. Don’t follow me or we shall lose each other in the crowd. I won’t be long.”

And leaving the children and Aunt Janet standing outside a quaint little tea-shop, he dashed forward and was quickly lost to sight in the surging mass of people that were rushing onward to the market cross. Everyone was simmering with excitement, and Jack and Molly had great difficulty in obeying Glan’s instructions to wait outside for him there, especially whenever a shout or groan of sympathy or indignation rose above the murmuring of the crowd, and told them that something unusual was taking place.

But they waited, and in a few minutes they saw Glan making his way back through the outskirts of the crowd. He hurried toward them, his face unusually grave.

“Come along,” he said, taking each of the children by an arm and hastening them away before they could ask any questions; and he signed to Aunt Janet, who followed behind them as quickly as possible. “Don’t look back. It’s no use. We can’t do anything to help. It’s one of the Pumpkin’s victims, some poor fellow caught by him outside the City walls.”

“What has he done to him?” Jack managed to gasp out.

“Made both his arms disappear, and covered his face with a horrible grey stain. The man looks awful. I’m glad you didn’t see him—we can do nothing to help … except one thing,” said Glan.

“The Black Leaf?” asked Molly.

“The only thing,” said Glan.

CHAPTER IX

Planning the Search

THEY turned out of the square into a wide avenue, bordered on each side with beautiful trees. At the end of this avenue stood the Palace gates, and behind these, glimpses could be caught of the Palace itself, gleaming white through the trees and bushes which surrounded it and almost hid it from sight of the gates; the only parts which were entirely visible were its four white towers which rose high above the tree tops. Having ascended the flight of wide, marble steps before the gates, the four visitors passed the sentry—who seemed to know Glan quite well—and made their way through the grounds to the main entrance of the Palace.

Jack and Molly were lost in admiration of the beauty of the scene before them. The creeper-clad walls and white towers of the Palace stood in well-wooded grounds through which a little river wandered, sparkling in the sunlight. Along the central avenue that led to the Palace, and up the great wide steps to the main door, there moved a constant stream of people, dressed in all sorts of lovely shades and colours; from a distance you might almost think they were the moving reflections of the flowers that clustered in profusion wherever your eyes turned. Had this been really so, Glan in his white suit might have passed for the reflection of a white stock, perhaps; Molly for a blue and white periwinkle; Jack for a dark blue hyacinth; and Aunt Janet, who was all in brown, for a large autumn leaf.

They joined the moving procession, and as they began to mount the steps Glan explained to the children that all these people were on the same errand as themselves; they had come to offer their help in the organized search that was about to take place. The main doors of the Palace were soon reached and they passed through, and were presently ushered into a spacious hall, panelled with dark oak. (For although the outsides of the buildings in the City were white, the children had already noted that the insides were coloured in many and varied styles.)

The hall was already crowded with people, and on a raised daïs at the far end there sat the King’s Councillors—a group of wise and learned men and women—round a long table. At first Jack and Molly could not see very well, but when a sudden hush fell on the assembly and the people all bowed, the children could see over the bowed heads that some one of importance was entering. They were made sure of this by the nudges of Aunt Janet. And looking up they saw it was the King.

His Majesty was middle-aged and rather tall and well built, and had a strong, clean-shaven face. The children liked his appearance. That he was ‘every inch a king’ could truly be said of him, though he wore no crown or velvet robes as the kings usually did in the children’s story-books at home, but was dressed very simply in a suit that reminded Jack vaguely of an admiral’s uniform.

“What a decent sort he looks,” whispered Jack to Molly.

After a few words of welcome to the people the King called upon one of the Councillors—a shrewd little man with tufty white whiskers—to tell the true story of the Pumpkin’s return to the Possible World, which the Councillor did, having obtained a full account from Old Nancy. The only question which still remained unsolved was: Who was the traitor who had drugged Old Nancy, and so aided the Pumpkin to return? This mystery, he said, they hoped to clear up when the Black Leaf was found.

When he had finished his story and had sat down, a buzz of murmuring voices filled the hall, and people turned to one another commenting on the story about Old Nancy which they had just been told, and comparing notes on the exaggerated versions of the tale that had reached them from various quarters.

Silence fell as the King rose again. After a few comments on the Pumpkin’s return, he began to speak of the plans for searching, which he and the Councillors had discussed at an emergency meeting early this morning.

“To make sure that every likely inch of ground is searched,” he said, “we have taken a map of the City and the outlying country, as far as the boundaries of this kingdom extend—and this is the only kingdom in which the Black Leaf can grow, remember—and we have divided this map into a number of small squares. Now what we want you each to do is to choose a square of the map, which you may take away with you—and search thoroughly every inch of the ground marked.

“In this way the Black Leaf must be found sooner or later—unless there is any careless searching or delay in searching. For, remember, we have only eleven days left before the Black Leaf disappears—and if it is not found before then the Pumpkin will remain with us for a year until the Leaf appears again and another search can be made.

“Those who volunteer outside the City are advised to search in couples, as the Pumpkin will be a constant source of danger to a person alone, whereas, if there are two of you, one can always keep watch while the other searches difficult places, or rests for a while.”

And here the King said a special word of warning regarding decoys and traps set by the Pumpkin in order to hinder the searchers, and then went on to explain what should be done if the Black Leaf was found, repeating the words that Jack and Molly had already heard from Old Nancy.

“As soon as it is known that the Black Leaf is found,” the King continued, “signals will be given throughout the country, so that all the searchers can cease, and make their way back to the City and the hill by Old Nancy’s cottage, in order to witness the Pumpkin’s punishment. These signals will be given by means of beacon fires which will be lit on the hill tops near and far. And when the glad news reaches the City all the bells will be set ringing.”

“Your Majesty, would it be possible for one of the Pumpkin’s friends to start the first beacon blazing, before the Leaf was found, in order to stop the searchers?” some one in the hall inquired.

“No,” replied the King. “Because we are so arranging it that only the person who has actually plucked the Black Leaf, and has it in his or her hand, can set a light to the first beacon. Each beacon is being specially guarded … well, I will admit that we have called in the aid of Old Nancy to help us in the guarding of them. So you may rest assured that none of the Pumpkin’s friends will be able to touch the beacons.... So, whoever finds the Black Leaf, remember to set the nearest beacon on fire before starting back to Old Nancy, that we may all know the good news at the earliest possible moment.”

The King concluded by asking for volunteers to search outside the City and inside the City to come forward and sign their names in the book which had been placed on a table half-way along the hall.