PETER THE PIXIE.

Otago Witness, Issue 4062, 19 January 1932, Page 69

PETER THE PIXIE.

By

Dorrie Brotchie.

Peter the pixie swept the leaves off the bit of path which ran past his door. And he swished his little broom up and down and round in a circle until he was completely hidden in a dusty cloud. Suddenly something fell plonk on the earth beside his green shoes, and. stooping down, Peter picked up a beautiful silver ring studded with diamonds and rubies.

‘‘Hello, what’s this?” cried Peter, staring at it hard as it lay flashing in his hand. “ A ring! Now, I wonder ” He was still wondering and scratching his funny little head when Robin Rabbit lopped up to his door. “ ’Morning, Peter; what are you looking at now? ” But Peter had slipped his find quietly into his pocket, and determined not to let Robin see it, for he was a curious, gossipy creature, and might do more harm than good. “ Nothing, just tidying up the path a bit,” and he started off with his broom once more.

“ Always busy,” mocked Robin, tossing his bob of a tail. “Well, I suppose I’d better hurry along; I’m going to market now. By the way,” he turned his head to cry when he had gone a few steps, “ have you seen the notice on the Royal Oak? Somebody pinned it up last night, and Mr Hedgehog told me about it, but I haven’t time to tell you now. You should go and have a look before they take it down. Cheerio! ” and Robin skipped blithely between the trees. “ A notice on the Oak tree? H’m, then

it must be something important. I’ll go and see,” muttered Peter to his broom wisely, and into his little house he went at once, put on a new brown jacket and cap, brushed his shoes, and set out along the path to the clearing where the Royal Oak grew.

Quite a crowd of little folk—pixies and fairies mostly—had gathered round the notice printed on a piece of pink paper and pinned to the bark by a royal gold pin. Peter pushed his way to the front and read: — “ At a Ball in the Clearing To-night Princess Snow-white will Choose A Pixie to be Her Husband. All Suitors Must Bring a Gift.”

“ Ha,” one of the pixies was boasting, “ none of you will bring a more gorgeous gift than I.” “ I mean to win her,” muttered another. “ But so do I.” Everyone was very excited and eager about the ball and the promise it held, for the fairy Princess Snow-white was ravishingly beautiful. Peter walked home with his hands deep in his pockets and a frown between his eyes. Where could he possibly buy a present good enough to offer to a princess? Only the richest among the pixies could compete at all. So why should he even try? It seemed very sad, for he had often spoken to the Princess, and was very fond of her. All at once he remembered the silver ring in his pocket, and, pulling it out, examined it closely. Very pretty and valuable it looked, too. and quite a good size—not for a fairy’s ring, of course, but it would look sweet upon her head as a crown. As soon as he had made up his mind to offer the ring at the ball to Princess Snow-white, he lost no time, but hurried home and spent the afternoon polishing hard at the silver circle until it shone like gold almost.

“ Splendid! ” he cried, when at last he felt that if he rubbed any longer he might rub it away altogether. “No one else will have a mortal’s ring to offer, and such a pretty one! ” And Peter sighed happily and sang to himself as he tidied up his kitchen and made some tea. After that he had nothing else to do but to try to wait patiently for the sun to sink.

At last it was time to set off, and. dressed in his green Sunday suit and shoes, with the ring tucked carefully away in one of his pockets, Peter shut his door and skipped along the path towards the clearing, where already lights were swinging from the surrounding trees and music floated softly on the air. Peter’s heart was going pit-pat, pit-pat, and he was trembling with excitement. “ If I can win her, if I can win her,” he sang over and over again, “ What’s that? ”

The little pixie stopped dead and listened intently. Footsteps were coming slowly towards him down the path, and a queer sobbing broke out. Stepping softly behind a tree, he peered into the half light. A little girl holding a red pinafore up to her eyes and crying pitifully wandered past, her head bent, her feet kicking away the dead leaves as she stooped every now and then. At length she threw herself down among the leaves “My ring! Oh, my little ring! Where have I lost it? My lovely little ring! ” she sobbed, rocking backward and forward, covering her face with her hands.

Peter jumped guiltily when he heard her words, and clutched the Princess’s present in his hand. “ Poor little girl! She must want it terribly. Yet if I give it back to her I shall never be able to win Princess Snow-white, and that will break my heart, for I love her very much,” he said aloud, trying not to hear the sobs or look at the crouching, sorrowful figure opposite him. But it was no use. Peter’s heart was too big and kind to hurt any creature, even if it was a mortal. So, biting his lip and swallowing very hard, he crept quietly across to the little girl and dropped the precious ring into her lap. “ And that’s that,” he said bravely as he tramped homeward, listening to the sounds of joy and wonderment from the child when she discovered her ring, and ran gaily out of the wood with it on her finger.

When Peter reached his door he found that someone else was there before him, sitting on the step, wrapped in a long, black cloak.

“Hello! What are you doing here?” he asked gruffly, for he was feeling very unhappy. The tiny, cloaked figure sat very still and did not answer for a minute. Then a silvery voice asked, “ Guess who I am, Peter?” The pixie was so completely taken aback that he nearly fell over. “ Princess Snow-white! ” he cried in joyful amazement, “ why are you not at the ball ? Where have you come from ? What do you want ? ” “ Stop a moment,” laughed the fairy, standing up and throwing aside her dark cloak to reveal a gorgeous gown of golden silk, “ I am going to the ball, you see, but, as I was driving through the woods a little while ago, I happened to see you make a very noble sacrifice, which pleased me so much and made me so proud that I thought I would like to give you a little surprise. So I came to ask you to take me to the ball. My courtiers have gone on before.”

How dainty she was, like a little wild flower! Peter’s head whirled, and his heart beat so loud he was sure she must hear. “Accompany you to the ball? I’d love to, Princess Snow-white. Let’s go now.” Hand in hand they walked together happily, and all too soon they reached the clearing where the fairies and pixies waited impatiently for a sign of the princess. Her coming was hailed with shouts of joy and a ring of fairy bells. In the general rush and excitement which followed Peter crept quietly to a corner bv himself.

.“Suitors with gifts line up here!” called an important-looking fellow, carrying a red plush cushion, and silence fell on the little people as a dozen trembling young pixies, each with presents, made their way up to the princess. When she had accepted the gifts she rose, tall and graceful, to name her choice.

“ I think all these gifts are very beautiful,” she said sweetly, “but I am not going to choose any of the givers, because—l love Peter Pixies best of all.”

Peter felt suddenly weak and wobbly. What had she said? Why did everyone eheer and push him towards the throne? “ Princess,” he asked, “ am I dreaming? ” But the only answer he received was a tinv kiss right on the top of his funny round head, and he knew that he was not. —Glasgow Weekly Herald.

TO ALL. Dear Little Folk, 1 hope that you are enjoying this year as much as I am, for, although barely three weeks of it have gone yet, there seems to be a very exciting feel about it, as if all sorts of splendid things may lie going to happen, and soon, too. 1 find that, despite almost all my friends and family being away on holiday, I am not at all envious of them, but quite content to be here alone; and, as I walk round the garden when I rise in the morning, or hurry home at night to see that everything is growing as it ought to grow, I am as happy as the thrush which one of my Kittle Folk writes about at the end of her letter. “ Now. what caused that? ” I wonder to myself, as I feel some particularly joyful thought rise in my mind and dance away; and I decide, children, that it is half because of the fresh new taste of the 1932 air, but also half because all those friends of whom I spoke are having a pleasant time and enjoying themselves. They are happy and are sending happy thoughts to me; so I am benefiting from them as fully as if I were on holiday myself. I suppose you know why holidays are so good for us? They are the little pauses which, coming after a great deal of work, make us fit and ready to carry on with more work later on. They “ rejuvenate ” us —that is. make us young ..oil n<rain and after thev are over

we feel able to attempt anything, no matter how hard it is. At least, that is how we feel if we have used our holidays wisely and in a health-giving way. To waste holiday time is very foolish. \v e should use every moment m the best manner, so that we get all the goodness possible out of it. and when it is time to go back tc work again, seem to be like “giants refreshed.” I was looking for something interesting to tell you this week, when I came across the following account of a grey seal nursery written by “ Ghillie ” in a paper called the Weekly Scotsman. He is speaking, of course, of November in the northern hemisphere, which is equivalent to Mav in our hemisphere. “'During the month of November last year I had a memorable experience m the Outer Hebrides. The lonely little isle for which we were making was uninhabitable —except, of course, for the seals and the wild birds —and although the day was not tempestuous, we had considerable difficulty in landing. We even-

tually did so, our movements being carefully watched by the great numbers of seals, both young and old, that were lying on the lowg .shelving rocks and on the spots of sandy beach. “When I had time to look round I was astonished by what I saw. Not only the sea-line,, but practically the whole island was literally covered with seals. And the great number of babies showed that the parents were using the island as a huge nursery. I soon saw, however, that the novelty of my approach was causing alarm, and that a ‘close-up’ view would be impossible unless I moved with greater care. Crawling on hands and knees and taking advantage of every knoll, I had little difficulty in securing good vantage points, although the want of sun gave a poor chance to the camera. From

a distance of about a dozen yards I saw what I had never seen before —a mother seal suckling her new-born baby. “ As I moved through this unusual nursery, I saw hundreds of these awkwardlooking babies. Many of them were quite alone and no mother near them, and now and again I encountered a group of three or four or six. Seldom did I see any playfulness amongst those youngsters: they were usually asleep. As night approached, the fact of their hardinees was borne in

upon me. The cold, chill wind came in from the Atlantic with icy rain on its edge, and there those infants lay, without a shiver or any sign of discomfort. “ At any other time of the year I would not have seen this teeming population. But when the breeding season approaches all the seals of the surrounding waters congregate on this island, and by November their young are born. After a short period of this nursery they again take to their ocean home, accompanied this tune by their progeny. In the Outer Hebrides a few seals can be seen at any time of the year, but it is only at this time that they are really ‘ in residence.’ ” What 'a really exciting experience it would be to spend a holiday like that, children! —Your loving