A BOX OF OINTMENT
“I will look for the lost piece of my jacket,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “I spend my life looking for that.”
“Have you lost a piece of your jacket?” asked Minora. “Nobody would think you had. Your jacket is in a great many pieces, but I don’t see one missing.”
“The fourteenth piece is missing,” said the Fraction sadly. “I used to be a whole number; then someone stole a piece of my jacket, and since then I have only been Thirteen-fourteenths. But we are wasting time; we should be working, not talking. Let us search high and low.”
“I must search high,” said Minora, “Mrs. Owl will be sleeping in some hollow tree.”
They all three set to work. The Major hunted bush and tree, and searched most unlikely and unpromising places; but, needless to say, he didn’t find anything at all.
The Fraction found something, not the book, not the lost piece of jacket, but a small round box. He shouted to the others to come and look at it.
“I’ve found this,” he said.
“Where did you find it?” asked the Major.
“In the hollow trunk in which I hid the book, queerly enough,” said Thirteen-fourteenths.
“Let me look at it,” said Minora, “is there anything inside?”
She took the box and examined it carefully, inside and out.
“Writing on the label,” she said, “but no notes, or sharps or flats,” she added slily, looking at the Major.
“I hope not, I’m sure,” said the Major.
“No figures,” said Thirteen-fourteenths. “I wonder what is inside. Hullo, I hear Half-term coming back through the wood; but I fancy I hear two voices. I wonder if it is Half-term.”
But Minora was looking at the soft, white, sticky stuff inside the box. She touched it with her finger, and she popped a little bit in her mouth; but it was not good to eat, and she made a grimace.
“I wonder what it is,” she said.
