The Book of Betty Barber/Chapter 2

by Maggie Browne

CHAPTER II

THE B. OF A C. OF A P. G.

Miss Crimson Lake, Lucy, and Major C sat down side by side under the tree. At Easter’s suggestion, Lucy, like the Dormouse at the Mad Hatter’s tea party, was put in the middle, so that the other two might keep her awake.

“I shan’t go to sleep if they will really settle down to read the book,” said Lucy.

“We'll try to read it,” said Christmas, laughing, ‘but as for settling down——”

“We never did such a thing in our lives,” said Easter.

“It looks like an exercise-book,” said Summer, “and we don’t like lesson-books. Indeed, I’m not particularly fond of books of any kind.”

“Well, let us make a beginning, at any rate,” said Christmas. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll climb into the branches of the tree. Then we can swing our legs, and we all find—don’t we?” she said, turning to the others.

“We do,” said Summer.

“That we can think so much better if we are able to swing our legs,” said Christmas.

“We can,” said Easter.

“Really, dear me!” said the Major politely, and he watched the fairies climb up into the tree.

“You don’t think so?” asked Christmas. ‘Then, perhaps you have never tried it.”

“Never,” said the Major.

“Won’t you get on with the book?” said Lucy.

The fairies opened the book, looked inside, and dropped it to the ground with a scream, as if they were hurt.

“What’s the matter?” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“Sums,” said Christmas.

“Arithmetic,” said Easter.

“Take it away, take it away,” said Summer.

“There are some sums, I know,” said Miss Crimson Lake, rising from her seat and picking up the book, “but you need not look at them. Try the other end of the book.”

But it needed some persuasion to get any of the fairies to touch the book again.

However, after a little time Christmas was induced to hold it in her hands, and Easter and Summer peeped at it cautiously.

“This is the Book of Betty Barber,” read Christmas.

Then they all began to smile, then to laugh quietly, then to shout with laughter, and then all three tumbled to the ground and rolled over and over.

“Precisely,” said the Major, “they consider the book absurd.”

“Not a bit of it,” shouted Christmas, “it wasn’t the book at all. I was thinking how awfully funny you looked playing at Mulberry Bush round the tree.”

“And I was beginning to think,” said Easter, “only Summer tickled me.”

“You tickled me,” said Summer.

“You both tickled me,” said Christmas. The Major rose from the ground.

“It seems to me,” he said, “that we are exceedingly unlikely———”

“All right, we beg pardon,” said Christmas.

“We do,” said Summer and Easter.

The Major sat down again very slowly.

“Let us all stand up,” said Christmas, “perhaps we shall geton better if we stand.”

“We should get on all right,” said Summer, “if it didn’t look so like a lesson-book.”

“Never mind,” said Easter, “open the book the writing end, not the sum end, and let us try.”

And the three sisters really did try hard; but they could not keep still two minutes together, and something kept happening which made them laugh or tumble or play, or do anything but keep their eyes on the book. The Major began to get very much annoyed, and Miss Crimson Lake was pouting. Lucy did nothing but yawn and gape and rub her eyes, she was so desperately sleepy.

At last the Major rose once more from the ground. He said never a word, but he bowed to each fairy, to Lucy, and Miss Crimson Lake, and was about to walk away, when a shower of acorns, stones, and twigs came tumbling on his head.

“Dear me, dear me, a sudden storm!” said the Major.

“What is it?” said Miss Crimson Lake, looking rather alarmed.

“Bother,” said Christmas.

“Brother, you mean,” said Easter.

“And he always upsets everything,” said Summer.

“I rather like him,” said Lucy. “It’s the boy Half-term Holiday,” she whispered to Major C, “the others think he is a nuisance; but he never makes me feel sleepy, he’s so energetic and jolly.”

“How’s everybody?” called a boy’s voice, and Half-term came tumbling out of the tree, turned a somersault in the air, and dropped neatly on his feet.

“Hullo, here’s a book,” said the boy, “a lesson-book too. No, it isn’t. Well, I never!” And down sat the boy under the tree, and began to read the book as hard as he could.

“Isn’t he queer?” whispered Christmas. “Last time I saw him—and that’s some time ago, for nobody sees him very often—but last time I saw him he told me he hated books. He said the only thing he cared to do was to play cricket all day long.”

“All Three Tumbled to the Ground and Rolled Over and Over” (p. 13)

“You never know what he’ll do,” said Easter.

“Well, never mind, he won’t put that book down until he has read every page of it,” said Summer, “and then we’ll make him tell us about it, so that we shall be saved the trouble of trying to read it.”

Half-term never smiled, never spoke, only moved to turn the pages over.

“He doesn’t think it is nonsense,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“You don’t know what he thinks,” said Lucy.

“Wait until he has finished,” said the Major, “he won’t be very long.”

The three sisters were playing with one another, from time to time trying to tease and disturb their brother; but he only waved them away, and went on reading the book.

Nothing moved him until he had finished. Then he jumped up and looked about him.

“Well!” said the Major.

“What do you think of it?” said Miss Crimson Lake.

“I believe I could get to the top of that tree if I tried again,” said Half-term thoughtfully, “though it certainly is the very, very tallest tree I ever saw.”

“Hold him, don’t let him begin. If he once touches the tree, we shall hear no more of the book,” cried Christmas.

“Stop him, hold him!” shouted Easter.

The Major stepped forward, placed himself in front of the boy, and bowed low.

At once the boy began examining him carefully from head to foot.

“Major C, I believe,” he said. ‘Now, I suppose you come from Music Land, Major C Scale?”

The Major smiled and bowed most amiably.

“And you have a great many relatives, I believe,” said Half-term.

The Major bowed again.

“Then do you find it very dull without any Sharps or Flats?” asked Half-term. “There are those who seem to think you may find it dull.”

“Well, as a matter of fact,” said the Major, “I never tried———”

“Oh,” said Half-term, “if I were you I think I should try. Now, I find it a good plan to try everything.”

“I never tried to get into three verses,” said Lucy. “Perhaps Betty Barber would not be sick of me if I only had three verses.”

“Try it,” said Half-term, “it would be a most interesting experiment. Try it, will you, to please me?”

Lucy nodded. ‘I must try,” she said, “I must do something.”

“Thank you so much,” said Half-term. “Now, let me see, what was I going to do? I know, get to the tip-top of this very tall tree. Good.”

“One moment,” said Miss Crimson Lake, smiling sweetly. “One moment.”

“The tip-top of the tree,” said Half-term, examining the tree carefully. “Yes, this is certainly the best side to attack. I never saw such a tall tree. I can’t even see the top. Still, there must be one.”

“Mr. Half-term, I want to speak to you,” said Miss Crimson Lake.

But the boy would not listen to her, his thoughts were entirely occupied with the tree, and though she touched his arm he shook her off almost rudely, and set to work to climb.

Miss Crimson Lake was very much annoyed; but Easter, Summer, and Christmas began to laugh.

“He won’t stop for you,” shouted Christmas.

“He’s horribly energetic,” said Summer.

“‘He does everything as hard as he can,” said Easter.

“A very rude fellow!’ said Miss Crimson Lake, frowning crossly.

“He’s nothing of the kind,” said Christmas indignantly.

“He’s a jolly fellow,” said Easter.

“‘A BIT OF A CHIT OF A PINK GIRL!’ SHOUTED THE FAIRIES IN CHORUS.”

“He’s a rude fellow, and a perfect nuisance,” said Miss Crimson Lake, “you said he was a bother, you said he upset everything.”

“Oh, well, we may say anything we like about him,” said Christmas, “he’s our brother. That’s different. But we won’t hear him abused by a bit of a chit of a pink girl.”

“What?” shrieked Miss Crimson Lake.

“A bit of a chit of a pink girl!” shouted the fairies in chorus.

“Lucy, Major,” screamed Miss Crimson Lake, “do you hear them? They called me a———Oh! Oh! Oh!”

Miss Crimson Lake waved her arms and threw herself down on the ground in her excitement. But though she almost sat down on the Major, he only moved out of the way, and did not speak to her. He was lost in thought.

Lucy, too, paid no attention to Miss Crimson Lake. Lucy had buried her face in her hands, and was sitting in a heap on the ground. She did not seem to hear Miss Crimson Lake’s screams.

The fairies were delighted. They joined hands, and danced round and round in a circle, calling at the top of their voices, “A bit of a chit of a pink girl!”

When Miss Crimson Lake found that nobody was troubling about her, she picked herself up from the ground, stopped screaming, and walked away.

“She’s a silly young thing,” said Christmas.

‘So stuck up and conceited,” said Summer.

“Hullo! Hullo!” shouted a voice.

“Who is it?” asked Summer.

“Half-term, of course,” said Christmas, “He’s up the tree.”

“Hullo! Hullo!” shouted Half-term again. “Come up, come up. It’s fine up here. I can see Paint Land, Music Land, Rhyme Land, Sum Land, Nonsense Land, ever so far. Come up, come up.”

“Don’t think we will,” said Christmas.

“No, thank you,” called Summer.

You come down,” shouted Easter.

“All right, I’m coming,” called Half-term.

“Now,” said Christmas, “we’ll tell him what the B. of a C. of a P. G. Sat: 2

“And we’ll make him think of a way to pay her out,” said Easter.

“Here I am again,” said Half-term, dropping to the ground. “Oh, you are here still,” and he walked across to the Major. “I saw your street from the top of the tree. Twelve houses there are, I counted them. Is yours the first?”

But the Major did not move or speak.

“What is the matter with him?” asked Half-term.

“I don’t know,” said Christmas; “but, I say, Half-term, you know that bit of a chit of a pink girl who was here a few minutes since?”

Half-term shook his head. “Don’t remember her,” he said.

“Miss Crimson Lake, from Paint Land,” said Easter. “She called you a rude fellow and a perfect nuisance.”

“Paint Land,” said Half-term; “I saw Paint Land from the top of the tree, and paint, paint—where did I see something about painting? I know, it was in that book, ‘I shall let my children paint all day long.’ I think I should like to try it. It would be fun to paint all day long, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Christmas eagerly, “let us all try it, and tell all the children to try it.”

“A grand idea, I’m off,” cried Half-term, and he bounded away.

Christmas clapped her hands, and shouted “Hurrah!”

“What is the matter?” asked Easter.

“Don’t you see, don’t you see?” said Christmas. “He’ll paint all day long, we’ll persuade the children to paint all day long, and then we’ll see how our young friend———”

‘The B. of a C. of a P. G.,” cried Easter.

“Likes it,” said Christmas

“We’ll pay her out,” said Summer.

“We will,” said Easter.

The three sisters ran after their brother, laughing and shouting “Hurrah!”

All the time, through all the noise, Lucy and Major C never moved.

For a little while all was quiet, and when the Fraction came strolling through the wood, to see if the Holiday Fairies had gone, he found the two still sitting under the tree.

He spoke to them, he touched them—they took no notice of him.

“What shall I do?” he said. “I must rouse them somehow.”

He picked up a bit of a stick, and poked first the Major with it, then Lucy; but still they did not move. Then his eyes fell on the Book of Betty Barber, lying on the ground where Half-term had left it.

“I’ll try that,” he said, and he turned over the leaves quickly.

“‘I think C Major is very dull,’” he read out of the book.

The Major jumped up, straightened himself, saluted, and began to speak quickly. “He shall be dull no longer,” he said. “I will inquire into the matter. I will return to Music Land, visit my relations, Major D and E, and F and G, and consult Minors, my ward. I will find out everything about these Sharps and Flats. Excuse me,” he said, bowing to Thirteen-fourteenths, “I must leave you. I have important business on hand. Attention! Quick march! Forward!” And the Major marched away.

“Now, what is he talking about?” said Thirteen-fourteenths.

“He’s going back to do something in Music Land, that’s pretty clear; but what he is going to do is not quite so clear. Anyway, I’ve roused him. I’d better try the book on the lady now.”

Once more he turned over the pages.

“‘No piece of poetry ought to have more than three verses,’” he read. “I, for one, am heartily sick of “Good Little Lucy.”’”

Lucy rubbed her eyes, and stared up at the Fraction.

“I will try,” she said; “I never thought of trying until Half-term suggested it. I will try to get into three verses; then perhaps the boys and girls won’t be sick of me.”

“Oh, it’s Half-term’s been putting these ideas into your head, is it?” said Thirteen-fourteenths. “I know him, a most energetic young man. Tell me what are you going to do?”

“I am going home,” said Lucy. “I shall have so much to cut out to get into three verses.” And Lucy walked away.

“Well, well,” said Thirteen-fourteenths, “we can only hope they’ll be better soon. Somehow I can’t help thinking———Hullo, I must be careful, or I shall be lost in thought, too. It is this book, of course,” and he dropped the book promptly and prepared to march away. Then he stopped, stooped down and picked it up again.

“I wonder what I had better do with it,” he said. “I don’t know where it came from, but I don’t think I’ll leave it lying about. It seems to upset every one, and make them quarrel. I know, I’ll hide it somewhere near this tree. Why, I do believe the trunk is hollow. I’ll put it inside the trunk.”

And having climbed into the branches, and dropped the book inside the hollow trunk of the tree, he marched away, feeling very pleased with himself, and thinking himself very clever; never guessing that he had put the book back exactly where Betty Barber, its owner, had hidden it a short time before.