The E. Nesbit MEGAPACK ®: 26 Classic Novels and Stories. E. Nesbit
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be here and at Amblehurst too?”
“We come here,” said the carpenter slowly, “when we’re asleep.”
“Oh!” said Philip, deeply disappointed; “it’s just a dream then?”
“Not it. We come here when we’re too sound asleep to dream. You go through the dreams and come out on the other side where everything’s real. That’s here.”
“Go on,” said Philip.
“I dunno where I was. You do put me out so.”
“Pop you something or other,” said Philip.
“Population. Yes. Well, all those people as made the things you made the cities of, they live in the cities and they’ve made the insides to the houses.”
“What do they do?”
“Oh, they just live here. And they buy and sell and plant gardens and work and play like everybody does in other cities. And when they go to sleep they go slap through their dreams and into the other world, and work and play there, see? That’s how it goes on. There’s a lot more, but that’s enough for one time. You get on with your gooseberries.”
“But they aren’t all real people, are they? There’s Mr. Noah?”
“Ah, those is aristocracy, the ones you put in when you built the cities. They’re our old families. Very much respected. They’re all very high up in the world. Came over with the Conker, as the saying is. There’s the Noah family. They’re the oldest of all, of course. And the dolls you’ve put in different times and the tin soldiers, and of course all the Noah’s ark animals is alive except when you used them for building, and then they’re statues.”
“But I don’t see,” said Philip, “I really don’t see how all these cities that I built at different times can still be here, all together and all going on at once, when I know they’ve all been pulled down.”
“Well, I’m no scholar. But I did hear Mr. Noah say once in a lecture—he’s a speaker, if you like—I heard him say it was like when you take a person’s photo. The person is so many inches thick through and so many feet high and he’s round and he’s solid. But in the photo he’s flat. Because everything’s flat in photos. But all the same it’s him right enough. You get him into the photo. Then all you’ve got to do is to get ’im out again into where everything’s thick and tall and round and solid. And it’s quite easy, I believe, once you know the trick.”
“Stop,” said Philip suddenly. “I think my head’s going to burst.”
“Ah!” said the carpenter kindly. “I felt like that at first. Lie down and try to sleep it off a bit. Eddication does go to your head something crool. I’ve often noticed it.”
And indeed Philip was quite glad to lie down among the long grass and be covered up with the carpenter’s coat. He fell asleep at once.
An hour later he woke again, looked at the wrinkled-apple face of Mr. Perrin and began to remember.
“I’m glad you’re here anyhow,” he said to the carpenter; “it was horribly lonely. You don’t know.”
“That’s why I was sent to meet you,” said Mr. Perrin simply.
“But how did you know?”
“Mr. Noah sent for me early this morning. Bless you, he knows all about everything. Says he, ‘You go and meet ’im and tell ’im all you can. If he wants to be a Deliverer, let ’im,’ says Mr. Noah.”
“But how do you begin being a Deliverer?” Philip asked, sitting up and feeling suddenly very grand and manly, and very glad that Lucy was not there to interfere.
“There’s lots of different ways,” said Mr. Perrin. “Your particular way’s simple. You just got to kill the dragon.”
“A live dragon?”
“Live!” said Mr. Perrin. “Why he’s all over the place and as green as grass he is. Lively as a kitten. He’s got a broken spear sticking out of his side, so some one must have had a try at baggin’ him, some time or another.”
“Don’t you think,” said Philip, a little overcome by this vivid picture, “that perhaps I’d better look for Lucy first, and be a Deliverer afterwards?”
“If you’re afraid,” said Mr. Perrin.
“I’m not,” said Philip doubtfully.
“You see,” said the carpenter, “what you’ve got to consider is: are you going to be the hero of this ’ere adventure or ain’t you? You can’t ’ave it both ways. An’ if you are, you may’s well make up your mind, cause killing a dragon ain’t the end of it, not by no means.”
“Do you mean there are more dragons?”
“Not dragons,” said the carpenter soothingly; “not dragons exactly. But there. I don’t want to lower your heart. If you kills the dragon, then afterwards there’s six more hard things you’ve got to do. And then they make you king. Take it or leave it. Only, if you take it we’d best be starting. And anyhow we may as well get a move on us, because at sundown the dragon comes out to drink and exercise of himself. You can hear him rattling all night among these ’ere ruins; miles off you can ’ear ’im of a still night.”
“Suppose I don’t want to be a Deliverer,” said Philip slowly.
“Then you’ll be a Destroyer,” said the carpenter; “there’s only these two situations vacant here at present. Come, Master Philip, sir, don’t talk as if you wasn’t going to be a man and do your duty for England, Home and Beauty, like it says in the song. Let’s be starting, shall us?”
“You think I ought to be the Deliverer?”
“Ought stands for nothing,” said Mr. Perrin. “I think you’re a going to be the Deliverer; that’s what I think. Come on!”
As they rose to go, Philip had a brief fleeting vision of a very smart lady in a motor veil, disappearing round the corner of a pillar.
“Are there many motors about here?” he asked, not wishing to talk any more about dragons just then.
“Not a single one,” said Mr. Perrin unexpectedly. “Nor yet phonographs, nor railways, nor factory chimneys, nor none of them loud ugly things. Nor yet advertisements, nor newspapers, nor barbed wire.”
After that the two walked silently away from the ruin. Philip was trying to feel as brave and confident as a Deliverer should. He reminded himself of St. George. And he remembered that the hero never fails to kill the dragon. But he still felt a little uneasy. It takes some time to accustom yourself to being a hero. But he could not help looking over his shoulder every now and then to see if the dragon was coming. So far it wasn’t.
“Well,” said Mr. Perrin as they drew near a square tower with a long flight of steps leading up to it, “what do you say?”
“I wasn’t saying anything,” said Philip.
“I mean are you going to be the Deliverer?”
Then something in Philip’s heart seemed to swell, and a choking feeling came into his throat, and he felt more frightened than he had ever felt before, as he said, looking as brave as he could:
“Yes. I am.”
Perrin clapped his hands.
And instantly from the doors of the tower and from behind it came dozens of people, and down the long steps, alone, came Mr. Noah, moving with careful dignity and carrying his yellow mat neatly rolled under his arm. All the people clapped their hands, till Mr. Noah, standing on the third step, raised his hands to command silence.
“Friends,” he said, “and fellow-citizens of Polistopolis, you see before you one who says that he is the Deliverer. He was yesterday arrested and tried as a trespasser, and condemned to imprisonment.