Part 13 (1/2)

”Here,” said Dudu, ”I will leave you. You can't go wrong.”

He flew down from Jeanne's head as he spoke. Jeanne gave her head a little shake; she seemed not altogether sorry to be freed from her head-dress, for a head-dress with _feelings_ is a somewhat uncomfortable affair.

”I don't mind you getting off my head, Dudu,” she said. ”But you might take a turn on Cheri's for a change. I think it's rather shabby of you to leave us already.”

Hugh looked at Jeanne in surprise. He could not understand how it was that Jeanne ventured to speak so coolly to the raven--she who in their daylight life was so frightened of him that she would hardly go near him for fear he should turn her into a mouse, or in some other way bewitch her!

”I think it's very good-natured of Monsieur Dudu to have come with us so far,” he said. ”We could never have got into the tapestry castle at all but for him.”

”No,” said Dudu, ”that you certainly wouldn't.” But he didn't seem offended. ”Good-bye,” he said, ”and if you're in any trouble remember the former arrangement. Whistle three times.”

”Good-bye,” said Hugh and Jeanne. But as they said it, their looks met each other in astonishment--there was no Dudu there--he had already disappeared.

”What a queer way he has of going off all of a sudden,” said Jeanne.

”And what are we to do now?” said Hugh.

”Go up the stairs, of course, till we find where they lead to,” said Jeanne.

”It will be rather awkward with our wings,” said Hugh. ”The stair is so very narrow and twisting.”

Jeanne made an exclamation.

”Wings!” she said. ”Why, Cheri, your wings are gone!”

”And so are yours!” said Hugh.

Both the children stared at each other and turned round to look at their shoulders, as if they could hardly believe it.

”It's too bad,” said Jeanne. ”It's all Dudu.”

”Never mind,” said Hugh. ”He wouldn't have taken them away if we had been going to need them again; and really, Jeanne, the more I think of it the more sure I am we could never have got up that stair with our wings on.”

”Perhaps not,” said Jeanne. ”Any way _I_ couldn't have got up it with Dudu on my head. But let's go on, Cheri. Are you frightened? I'm not a bit.”

”I'm not, either,” said Hugh. ”Still, it's a very queer place. I wish Dudu, or Houpet, or some of them, had come with us!”

They set off on their climb up the steep spiral staircase. So narrow it was, that going hand-in-hand was out of the question.

”It's worse than the staircase down to the frogs' country,” said Jeanne.

Hugh looked at her triumphantly.

”There now, Jeanne, you _do_ remember,” he said. ”I believe it was just pretence your saying you thought I had dreamt it all.”

”No,” said Jeanne, ”it wasn't. You don't understand, Cheri. I'm moonlight Jeanne, now--when we were having the dolls' feast I was daylight Jeanne. And you know it's never moonlight in the day-time.”

”Well, certainly, I _don't_ understand,” said Hugh. ”And one thing particularly--how is it that in the moon-time you remember about the day-time, if in the day you forget all about the other.”

”I don't exactly forget,” said Jeanne, ”but it spoils things to mix them together. And lots of things would be _quite_ spoilt if you took them into the regular daylight. I fancy, too, one can see farther in the moonlight--one can see more ways.”