The Time Garden (15 page)

"I wish we had the old rules back," said Ann. "About people not noticing we're different."

"It'd be even better if they didn't notice us at
all
," said Eliza, "and we could remain anomalous."

"There's another thing," said Roger. "We've forgotten all about doing a good deed."

"We don't have to, anymore," said Eliza. "It won't make any difference, if it's the last time, anyway."

"Don't keep reminding us," said Ann.

"I think we ought to do one, anyway," said Roger. "If it's good-bye to the magic, we might as well part friends."

"Oh, all right," said Eliza. "I don't mind, if it comes up naturally. I'm not going out of my way, looking for one."

"H'if you ask me," the Natterjack joined the conversation, "h'actions speak louder than words. Thyme an' tide wait for no man, and h'even last times don't last forever, you know!"

When Roger took the thyme sprig from his pocket, it
did
look as if it couldn't last much longer. Its pink blossoms were faded and its leaves hung limp.

"Oh dear," said Ann, "and we haven't come to the important part of the wish yet. About Mother!"

But it seemed there was still life in the sprig, for when they all sniffed its caraway redolence and wished to be where Jack was, and when Roger rubbed, right away they
were.

Where Jack was turned out still to be alone with Queen Elizabeth in her council chamber. He was telling her all about the Twentieth Century, and the three children couldn't tell whether or not the magic was being helpful about children's not noticing, because they were both too absorbed to notice
anything.

"And then there's television," Jack was saying. "It's a picture that's sent for hundreds of miles, and it
talks!
"

"'Sblood!" said the Queen. "What words of wisdom does it say?"

"Oh, all kinds of things," said Jack, "and baseball games and shows."

"Like the plays of Will Shakespeare," said the Queen.

"Sort of," said Jack, "only different."

"Marry come up!" said the Queen. "Truly this must be an age of marvels. No witchcraft could invent such wonders. It must verily be a fact that you and your sister come from future worlds!"

"Then let her out of the Tower!" cried Jack.

"All in good time," said the Queen. "From what I have observed of her character, 'twill do her no harm to worry a bit longer. But now mark me. I have an idea. Is it true what she said, that I cut off Milord of Essex's head one day?"

"I'm afraid so," said Jack.

"Alas," said the Queen. "Poor Robin. Still if it must be, why not save time and cut it off
now?
Then
you
could stay with me and take his place as my favorite! With the help of these new inventions you tell me of, these air ships and this wireless and this speaking vision..."

"Television," Jack interrupted.

"Telling vision," the Queen corrected herself. "With the help of these new improvements, which you can show me how to manufacture, I can make Merrie England ruler of the world even sooner than I would have, anyway! What say you, boy?"

Jack hesitated. The thought of being a queen's favorite was not to be sneezed at, and he liked what he had seen of the palace. Then, too, there were several teenage maids of honor about that might be pleasant to know, particularly one small blonde he had noticed, called Lady Samantha Drake. On the other hand, a queen who talked so lightly of cutting off heads did not seem to be the most comfortable kind of queen to be the favorite
of.
And he was not entirely sure that he could construct a really satisfactory television set out of Elizabethan raw materials.

It was at this moment that he looked up, in the direction of Ann and Eliza and Roger and the Natterjack. And because they were all in the same magic adventure together, he saw them all quite clearly. And Ann thought that a relieved expression crossed his face.

"I don't think it would work out," he said. "Thanks just the same."

The Queen's eyes glittered. Too late Jack remembered about women scorned, and he thought that a queen scorned might very likely be even
worse.

"Not that it wouldn't be keen," he said quickly. "It's just that I have to get home. I've got things to do."

"What things?" said the Queen, coldly.

"Well," said Jack, "there's the Yacht Club race. And the Midsummer Cotillion..."

"What are these?" said the Queen. "Trials of skill?"

"Sort of," admitted Jack.

The Queen relaxed, and smiled graciously. "In that case," she said, "you are forgiven. It is not your wish, but your duty that calls you from my side. It is fate that divides us. You have a rendezvous with destiny!"

Some words Jack had read in school popped into his mind. He said them. But not being a poetical boy, he didn't remember them quite right. "I could not love it here so much, loved I not honor more," he said.

"Neatly put," said Queen Elizabeth.

On a sudden inspiration Jack knelt and kissed the Queen's hand. Eliza chose this moment to giggle.

The Queen looked up, and the three children could tell from her expression that she saw them. And yet at the same time she seemed to be looking straight through them, as though they were transparent. Seemingly the magic was being obliging about people's not noticing, and yet not completely so.

"Angels and ministers of grace defend us!" cried the Queen. "What ghostly visitants are these?"

"They're not," said Jack. "They're my friends, come to take me away."

The Queen peered closer. "To be sure," she said, "and your sister is among them. They have freed her. What power these future beings must have, to dare to defy
me!
And how much they could teach me! It hardly seems worthwhile your coming at all, if you're just going to go away again. Oh, stay here with me, all of you, and help me to reign wisely and choose what is best for England! Sometimes it all seems so difficult I wonder why I try to go on!"

Roger looked at Ann and Ann looked at Roger, and each of them knew what their good deed was going to be.

"You just keep it up the way you've been," said Ann. "You're doing fine."

"Remember what we told you about the Elizabethan Age," said Eliza. "Keep on encouraging those poets and playwrights."

"Don't worry about politics," said Roger. "Who do you think brings England together all united and independent of the rest of Europe forever?" For that was what he had read about Queen Elizabeth in his history book.

"Do I do that?" said the Queen.

"Yes," said Roger, "you do."

The Queen looked pleased, but still reluctant for them to depart. "Have you nothing more to tell me?" she asked.

"Don't worry about that Spanish Armada," said Eliza. "It'll be duck soup."

"And don't cut off Lord Essex's head till you absolutely
have
to," said the tenderhearted Ann.

"I won't," promised the Queen.

And now Roger took the poor last shreds of the seedcake thyme from his pocket and rubbed them, and they whiffed and wished.

What happened after that was like the last parts of a dream, just before you wake up. The rest of the wish came true, but all in a rush and run together in quick flashes that blurred and became something else as soon as they were seen. Maybe it was because most of the thyme was worn away and the parts that were left had to work extra hard and fast to do it at all.

The Queen and the council chamber disappeared, and at first the four children (and the Natterjack) seemed to be rushing through dark empty space. Then it seemed as though the space were sky and they were flying across it. The earth below kept changing its aspect as centuries merged into other centuries. Still they flew. Or was it time that was flying and they who were standing still? Who could tell? Certainly not Ann and Roger and Jack and Eliza.

At one moment something came hurtling toward them. As it drew nearer the four children could see that it was a magic carpet. Riding the carpet, which was stretched out stiffly on the air, were four children and a golden bird that could only be a Phoenix.

"It's the Nesbit children!" cried Ann. "The Phoenix and the Carpet ones! Which adventure do you suppose they're going on?"

But before she or any of the others could call "Hello," or even wave, the carpet had sailed past and disappeared. And after that things got even faster and more confused.

For a moment they seemed to be standing in a London street, in the present day, to judge from the kind of traffic that was passing. The building they were facing seemed to be a theater, and on it was a sign advertising Ann and Roger's father's play, with an opening date a month away. Two ladies were walking down the street toward the theater. Ann and Roger and Jack and Eliza looked at the ladies. And a great cry of recognition rose from four throats.

But whether the ladies saw
them
or whether their cry fell on deaf ears will never be known.

For at that moment everything blacked out completely, and the
next
moment they and the Natterjack found; themselves standing on the edge of the cliff with the waves of the Atlantic beating on the beach below, and it was over.

"Foiled again!" said Eliza.

"And. for the last time!" mourned Ann.

"You saw your mothers, didn't you?" said the Natterjack.

"Yes, we
saw
them!" said Jack.

Roger didn't say anything. He started for the thyme garden. The others followed. Once there, Tie poked the haggard remains of the seedcake thyme back into the earth.

But nobody stayed to see whether they grew again or not. And nobody spoke as the four children trudged away from the blossomy bank and past the flower borders and across the lawn to the house. Only Ann turned and ran back for a last word with the Natterjack, which as usual had gone about its own business as soon as it reached its familiar garden.

"Good-bye," she said. "Don't think we blame
you.
It's not
your
fault. We know you did your best."

The Natterjack did not reply. It was occupied with a small spider. But Ann thought that it looked gratified.

She ran to join the others, where they sat silently on the front steps of the house.

After a while the silence got to be too much to bear.

"Our mothers looked happy," she said. "They were smiling."

"Yes," said the others.

"The poster on the theater was keen," said Roger.

"Yes," said the others.

There was a silence.

"The rest of this summer," said Eliza, "is going to be
awful.
"

The others did not deny this.

"Of course," said Jack, after a bit, "there's the Yacht Club race...."

The others gave him a withering look.

"And the Midsummer Cotillion," he went on, nothing daunted. He got up and smoothed down his hair. "I'm going inside," he said. "I'm going to phone Susie Eberly."

And he did.

8. The Time Is Ripe

Of course the rest of the summer wasn't really so awful as Eliza expected, and yet in a way it was. Considered as a time of magic adventure it was an empty mockery, yet for those who could open their hearts to swimming, sailing, picnics and mere idling, it had its jim-dandy side, and the four children found that they could open their hearts quite wide to these most of the time.

But ever and anon the Australian crawl would flag, or an oar would trail listlessly in the water or a hot dog remain uneaten on a paper plate, and Ann and Roger and Eliza would look at each other, and each would know what the other two were thinking.

Jack had less time for repining than the rest of them. To begin with, there was the Yacht Club race, and then there was the terrible decision of whether to take Julie or Janina or Jerry Lou to the Midsummer Cotillion. In the end he took Adrienne.

And so the days of August passed, and white phlox and blue globe thistles stood in the flower borders, and wild asters started blooming along the roadsides and swallows held political meetings on the telephone wires, and the nights began to have a touch of chill in the air.