Chapter XV
HOW BULKA GOT HIS LETTERS
Here was a dismal end to a fine home-coming!
Well the toys might weep; that would not help matters. Poor Cecco’s return, however, after the first few moments—in which he said very plainly what he thought—put new courage into them all. Now there was some one to organise the search and take matters in hand, and at once they became brave. The Lion stiffened up and was ready to roar; Anna stopped snivelling and Harlequin squared his shoulders and went about once more saying “Hey Presto!” They ceased to blame the Easter Chicken, and instead began to talk of what they would do to Murrum.
The real question, however, was to rescue Tubby, and this could not be done until she was found. Poor Cecco at once decided that they must divide into two parties; one to search the garden and one the house. This, the Lion pointed out, had already been done, but Poor Cecco wanted to make quite sure. So with Poor Cecco at the head of one party, and Bulka leading the other, they set out.
Jensina remained at home, with Ida, Anna and the dolls in order to become acquainted.
Now I would like nothing better than to tell how Gladys and Virginia May welcomed Jensina with the kindness due to a stranger and a guest, but unfortunately this would not be at all true. In fact, from the first minute they set eyes on Jensina they had made up their minds to snub her. This was partly due to jealousy, partly from the mere desire to show off and give themselves airs. As long as Bulka and Poor Cecco were present they were bound to be polite to her, but as soon as they found themselves alone they turned up their noses and set out to make her just as uncomfortable as they knew how. Anna merely simpered and looked affected. Ida alone was kind, but then Ida was always kind. No one took any notice of her.
As for Jensina, the unaccustomed luxury of the toy-cupboard, and the new company among which she found herself, naturally made her feel a little shy. She consoled herself, however, and kept up her sense of dignity by sticking out her tongue whenever Gladys and Virginia May were not looking. She was quite aware of their attitude, and would have much preferred to join Poor Cecco and Bulka on their search, but instead she had to stay at home and make the best of it. So she sat on the toy-cupboard sofa, which had only two legs and was propped up at the other end by an empty cotton-spool, while Gladys and Virginia May reclined on the cigar-box opposite and stared at her.
“Are there many parties where you come from?” Virginia May began in a languid voice.
“There were two last night,” Jensina replied, “but I could only attend one of them.”
“Indeed!” said Gladys, and the two dolls glanced at one another and sniffed.
“I suppose you have all your clothes in that funny bundle,” Gladys remarked. “So quaint! I wish, Virginia,” she added, “that you would remind me to have the lock of my large trunk attended to, I may go visiting soon, and I couldn’t dream of travelling without it! I don’t quite know whether I shall wear my white satin or the pink velvet trimmed with lace. Harlequin says I look charming in the pink velvet!”
The trunk, as every one knew, did not really belong to Gladys at all. It had lain in the bottom of the toy-cupboard for ages with the lid half off and was full of broken china, while the white satin petticoat had only been loaned her for the wedding last week, and it was Virginia May’s turn to have it next. Virginia, however, chose to forget that she had quarrelled bitterly with Gladys over this garment only two days ago, and clasping her hands she exclaimed:
“Oh, darling, I should wear the white! White is always so becoming when one travels, especially with a veil.”
“I daresay you are right,” sighed Gladys, and she glanced again at Jensina.
“Wouldn’t you like to take your shoes off,” she asked sweetly, “and rest your feet a little?”
Now Jensina couldn’t possibly take her shoes off, and both the dolls knew it. They were painted on, and while painted-on shoes are the cheapest and most comfortable that any one can have, they are also the sign of inferior social position. Both Gladys and Virginia had once possessed real shoes—bronze paper shoes with buckles—but they had been lost long ago, and one of Virginia’s feet being broken off near the instep, she couldn’t have kept a shoe on even if she still had it; Jensina knew they were only trying to humiliate her, but she didn’t care; her feet were both unchipped and they served her quite well for walking. So she merely stared hard at Virginia’s broken toes and replied:
“I never take my shoes off in company. I don’t think it is quite nice!”
Both dolls turned very red.
“I daresay she sleeps in them,” Virginia whispered in a loud aside, and Gladys returned: “We might lend her something to wear. Poor thing! I think I've got an old petticoat somewhere about.”
“I’ve got a perfectly good dress of my own,” Jensina replied aloud, “and it doesn’t need washing either!”
“Really!” said Virginia. “How strange! What is it made of?”
“It’s made of gingham,” said Jensina proudly.
“Gingham!” murmured the dolls, and they both shuddered.
“Don’t you mind them,” whispered Ida kindly.
“They’re only jealous because you’ve travelled more than they have. They’re quite nice when you really know them.”
“They’re stuck-up cats!” thought Jensina. “That’s what they are!”
She sat stiff and erect on the sofa, determined to keep silence, while the two dolls plied her with questions. They were curious, above all, to know what kind of a shop she came from.
“I was never in a shop,” Jensina retorted at last. “My people had nothing to do with trade. If you want to know, I am descended from a gypsy queen!”
“Descended is the right word!” said Virginia, while Gladys added: “I never knew there were gypsy queens.”
“Then you don’t know much,” said Jensina sharply, and turning her back on them as far as she could she began to unknot her bundle and arrange its contents on the sofa beside her, while Virginia and Gladys stared inquisitively whispering together.
“It must be very romantic being a queen!” simpered Anna coyly, thinking of the Lion. It was the first remark she had made and Jensina turned to stare at her.
“Why do you wear that bell round your neck?” she asked.
IN THE TOY CUPBOARD
She sat stiff and erect on the sofa, determined to keep silence, while the two dolls plied her with questions.
“They’re stuck-up cats!” thought Jensina. “That’s what they are!”
“In case I ever get lost,” Anna replied, “so that I can always tell where I am, even in the dark.”
“I shouldn’t think you’d get lost easily!” said Jensina.
Anna did not know whether this was a compliment or not, so she merely simpered again. Jensina went on arranging her treasures, which made the dolls very curious, and Gladys leaned so far over Virginia May’s shoulder that they both lost their balance and tumbled off the cigar-box. To hide their confusion Gladys said instantly:
“Let us have a little music! Anna, will you find the musical box?”
This took Anna some while, partly because her eyes were so near the top of her head, partly because the musical-box itself was hidden under a pile of broken furniture and building blocks in one corner of the toy-cupboard. While she was still looking for it Bulka came in, followed by the Lion and the Easter Chicken.
“Have you found Tubby?” the others cried at once. “Have you any news?”
“Not yet,” replied the Lion hopefully, “but Poor Cecco and Harlequin are in the garden making a trap, and if only Murrum will step on it we might catch him.”
“Have you had a nice time, Jensina?” Bulka asked.
“Wonderful!” replied Jensina, looking straight at the two dolls, who became more confused than ever. Anna had found the musical-box at last. It was round, with painted figures on it and a tiny china knob on the handle. Seizing this she began to turn, and immediately a little tune gushed forth.
“Tum tum tum tumptity—ugh—ugh—ugh!” tinkled the musical-box, breaking off, as always, in something between a cough and a hiccup.
At the sound of these familiar strains, to which he and Tubby had so often waltzed in bygone days, Poor Bulka nearly broke down. “Stop it!” he cried, stamping his foot. “Stop it!” while Anna gazed in stupid surprise and the musical-box, which was far harder to stop than to set going, continued obstinately in its refrain.
“Stop it!” shouted the Money-Pig, aroused from his nap on the roof of the Noah’s Ark. “Must you make that horrible noise?”
Jensina rushed to take hold of the handle, and as she did so the Money-Pig, leaning over to shout, caught sight of the penny—Poor Cecco’s remaining penny—lying with Jensina’s treasures on the toy-cupboard sofa.
“There’s money!” he exclaimed. “I see it! Give it me at once!”
“I shall not,” returned Jensina with spirit. “It belongs to Poor Cecco!”
“He can’t take care of money! I need it! Give it me this instant!” the Money-Pig insisted. “No one can have money but me!”
“Don’t you give it him!” advised the Lion. “You’ll never get it back. He’s awfully greedy!”
Jensina, who had no intention of giving up the penny, took a step back, startled by the Money-Pig’s squealing, while the Easter Chicken suddenly piped up: “I’ll find you a penny if you’ll tell that you saw Murrum stealing Tubby!”
“I won’t!” the Money-Pig bellowed. “I won’t tell you! Give me that penny at once!”
It all happened in a moment! Jensina made a movement to protect Poor Cecco’s money, snatching it from the sofa; the Money-Pig gave a shriek, and in his rage he leaned so far forward that his hoof slipped, he lost his balance, and—crash!—he fell off the Noah’s Ark roof and was broken to pieces!
There he lay in fragments on the toy-cupboard floor, and there, among the pennies, and the scraps of green china that a moment ago had been his ears and his snout and his fat bulging sides, lay dozens and dozens of folded notes of all shapes and sizes—a whole pile of them—each one addressed: “To Dear Bulka. In the Toy-Cupboard.”—all Tubby’s love letters that she had written so carefully and posted inside him! The wonder was that he had held them all up to now without bursting!
There they were, plain for all the world to see, with “Dear Bulka” written in a big round hand on each one of them. “Tubby’s been writing to me! Tubby’s written me a letter!” Bulka cried. He began to gather the letters up in armfuls, dropping half of them in his haste.
“Hurry up and open them!” said Jensina. “Perhaps they’re to tell us where she is.”
“What’s this?” asked Poor Cecco, coming in from the garden, with Harlequin at his heels. “What’s happened?”
Bulka had torn open one of the letters, and there he read:
“Dear Bulka:
I love you more than everything and I will make you a big cake with ammons and Icing and Silver balls,
Your loving
- Tubby.
P.S. There will be candels on the Cake.
“Tubby loves me!” Bulka shouted, waving the letter over his head. “Tubby really loves me! She wrote it down!”
“Show us!” cried the dolls instantly.
“Indeed I won’t!” said Bulka. “It’s only written for me, so Hinksman!” And gathering all his letters together—an enormous armful—he hastened off to read them all alone by himself in the garden.
Jensina looked down at the green fragments that had lately been the Money-Pig.
“Do you suppose he’s dead?” she asked Poor Cecco in an awed voice.
“Very likely,” returned Poor Cecco. “If he is we’ll have a funeral, but there’s no time to see about that now. Come out, Jensina, and I’ll show you my trap!
Ida was the only one who felt sorry for the Money-Pig. Not that she liked him—no one had done that—but she had a naturally soft heart, even for disagreeable people. So she set about sweeping him up, as well as she could, and put all the best pieces in the doll’s trunk to wait till there was time for a funeral.
She had just brushed up the last chip when Gladys, who had wandered off and climbed up to the front window to look out, returned in great excitement.
“Anna—Ida!” Gladys exclaimed. “What do you think? I just looked out of the window, and there are two enormous grey rats sitting behind the flower-pot on the front porch!”
