Part 8 (2/2)

”Where do you live?” asked the Lion.

The child pointed over her shoulder. ”Near the Ancient Wood, yonder,”

she said. ”I came to Derrydown to the market. I have sold my dolls; now I am going home with the money.”

”Dolls?” queried the Lion, interested in spite of himself. ”You make dolls?”

Claribel nodded. ”Rag dolls,” she said. ”My mother made dresses for the villagers. Now I make dolls out of the pieces in the old rag-bag. It buys me bread.”

The Lion's heart was softened. ”You are so little, Claribel!” he exclaimed. ”Have you no one to take care of you?”

The child shook her head. ”My mother is dead. I am alone in the world,”

she said.

”But have you no relatives--no one of n.o.ble kin in some palace, some castle?” the Lion cried eagerly.

The child laughed. ”I know of no castles,” she said; ”no kindred at all.

I never had any, I think.”

The Lion gave a groan. ”I will go back to the Curiosity Shop!” he said whimsically. ”Good-bye, child!” He started away. But, turning for a last look, he saw Claribel, with her eyes full of tears.

”Do not go!” cried the child. ”I like you so much, dear Lion--_Ker-chew!

Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_”

The Lion's heart melted. ”You are so little!” he said, ”too little to be going on these roads alone. I will see you home.” So they took the long road together, the child skipping happily beside the Lion, with her hand in his red mane. And the farther they walked together, the more the Lion liked Claribel, who sneezed whenever she spoke his name, but looked at him with kindly eyes.

They came at last to the hut where Claribel lived alone. It was a tiny cottage on the edge of the wood. The Lion looked at it long and hard. It was so different from the castle he had hoped to find! The child pulled him by the mane, and he went in. The hut was very poor, but spotlessly neat and clean.

Claribel led the Lion to the fireplace and began to blow meager sparks with the bellows. ”I will keep you warm and give you bread to eat. You shall stay and live with me and be my dear big watch-dog!” she said.

The Lion sighed. But he could say nothing; he was so tender-hearted. ”I will run away in the night,” he promised himself. And then, on the mantel-stone above the tire, he spied a roughly-scratched s.h.i.+eld. On the s.h.i.+eld was the small figure of a lion pa.s.sant, with dexter paw raised and curved tail. Below it was scrawled the motto, ”_n.o.blesse oblige_.”

Claribel saw him staring at it with big eyes, and began to laugh and sneeze. ”Yes, my mother loved it,” she said, ”and I love it, though it always makes me sneeze just as you do. That was why I liked you from the beginning. Some day I shall learn what the words mean; then I shall be rich and happy.”

The Lion did not run away that night. He slept with his nose on his paws beside the fire and dreamed grand dreams of castles and fair ladies; of gold-broidered banners on which _he_ was emblazoned in crimson glory, and of the battle-cry, ”_n.o.blesse oblige_!” echoing all about him.

But in the morning he was awakened, for the second time, by the sound of three soft little sneezes. ”Excuse me!” said Claribel's dear little voice; ”I tried not to, but I could not help it. I was so afraid you would not be here when I woke up. It might all have been a dream. But as soon as I saw you, I had to sneeze;--it is very odd!” She laughed and laughed, and the Lion roared in sympathy.

”I shall not go away,” he said. ”I want to be a real Supporter, not a heraldic one. I shall stay and try to help you learn the meaning of the motto over the fireplace.”

”Oh, I am so happy!” cried Claribel, clapping her hands. ”Already, I have thought of a way you can help me very much. I have always wanted to make a lion doll--_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_ But I never before had any lion--_Ker-chew! Ker-chew! Ker-chew!_--to copy, except that flat one over the fireplace. Now I can shape them after you and sell them in the market, and we shall grow rich, oh, so rich!”

And so it befell in the days that came thereafter. For Claribel's clever fingers snipped and pieced and seamed together the bits of cloth, until she had a lion so like her new friend that she almost sneezed her head off when he was finished. And, lo! She had invented a new kind of toy, which was speedily the rage over the whole kingdom.

In time, the making of lion-dolls became the great industry of Derrydown, whereof the people had much profit, especially Claribel, whose idea it was. And the folk of the town loved her dearly, because she had brought prosperity to them all. And they were devoted to the Lion, who went to and fro among them with gracious dignity, serving Claribel and serving them, so busy that he had no time to worry about escutcheons.

No family so poor but it had its little lion of carefully pieced rags, which it fondly prized; not merely because it was a quaint toy and indestructible, but because it was to them a token of their n.o.ble, friendly beast and of the motto which he had taught them. (But they had taught him many things, also.) And in latter days a crimson lion became the seal of the Guild of Toy-Makers in that s.h.i.+re. And a new tradition began to grow about the Lion Pa.s.sant, concerned entirely with his service to the people.

So, in seeking Them, the Lion found himself. And he lived happy ever after.

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