The Time Garden (3 page)

The thing they were following gave another hop and landed just ahead of them. "
There
it is!" said Ann.

"Never mind, it's just an old toad," said Eliza. "What's all this wonderful smelly stuff?" And she threw herself down on its redolent pillowiness, and the others followed her example.

"It smells like turkey stuffing," said Jack.

"It's some kind of herb," said Roger. He tasted one of the tiny dark green leaves of the purple-flowering kind. "I think maybe it's thyme."

"You mean it's a bank whereon the wild thyme grows?" said Ann. "That's Shakespeare."

"That's silly," said Eliza, who was not a botanical girl, nor a poetical one, either. "Time doesn't grow. Time flies."

"Not this kind of thyme," said Roger.

"Thyme with an 'h,'" said Jack.

"T, h, y, m, e," said Ann.

"The 'h' is silent," said a fifth voice, "as in 'ospital, 'awthorn and 'edge'og."

The four children looked at each other.

"Who said that?" said Jack.

The hopping thing they had been chasing hopped nearer. "I did," it said. "You see," it went on, "anything
can
'appen, when you've all the thyme in the world!" And staring at the four children, it slowly winked one eye.

2. Wild Time

The four children stared at the toad (if it
was
a toad).

"You're magic," said Eliza.

"Among other things," said the creature (whatever it was).

"That's funny," said Ann.

"Not necessarily," said the creature, in rather a huffy voice.

"I just meant," Ann went on quickly, "I've never met any magic toads before. We've met magic knights, and castles, but never any toads. Of course there's the
Wind in the Willows
one, but he wasn't magic exactly...."

"I should think
not!
" said the creature. "A mere h'upstart of a common or garden toad.
I
," it announced proudly, puffing itself out, "am a Natterjack."

"What's
that?
" said Jack.

"It's what
I
am, and it's a 'ighly superior thing to be," said the Natterjack.

"You talk sort of British," said Roger.

"And why not?" said the Natterjack. "London born an' London bred my granddaddy's granddaddy was. Served 'is apprenticeship in Covent Garden Flower Market. H'emigrated 'ere on a sod o' primroses, 'e did, an' 'im an' 'is descendants 'ave been tending this 'ere garding ever since. Why d'you suppose the posies 'ere bloom prettier 'n elsewhere? Madam may say it's fertilizer and Old 'Enry may say it's deep trenching, but
I
say it's Natterjacks!" And sticking out its tongue, it consumed a nearby aphid.

The four children waited in respectful silence for the Natterjack to go on. "Well?" prompted Eliza, after a bit. "What else do you do?"

"Eh?' said the Natterjack.

"Where do
we
come in?" said Eliza. "Do you grant our wishes, or what? You must be going to do
something
for us, or you wouldn't have appeared. It stands to reason."

The Natterjack eyed her very much as it had eyed the aphid. "Some people round 'ere," it said, "are so sharp they'll cut theirselves. Grantin' wishes at
my
time of life, not very likely! Any magic as I 'ave, I puts right into this 'ere garding. Which speakin' o' which, if some people was 'alf so smart as what they thinks they is, when I said the 'h' was silent, they'd 'ave thunk that one through a few times!"

Eliza stared blankly. But Roger began to think he saw light.

"You mean," he said excitedly, "that this really is a
time
garden? The clock kind of time?"

"Time's time, so far as
I
ever 'eard," said the Natterjack. "Some may spell it 'h' and some may spell it 'y,' but
I
spells it not at all, not 'avin' the eddycation.
I
just magics it!"

"You mean," said Roger again, "that you put all your magic into the garden? Does that mean that now
it
's got the magic power?"

The Natterjack gave a hop. It landed on a flowery patch that was taller and weedier than the rest, and with pale lilac flowers. "If you was to pluck a sprig o' this 'ere," it said, "an' rub it once an' sniff the breathin' essence of it, I wouldn't say what'd 'appen, but it wouldn't be uninterestin'. An' I wouldn't say
when
the time'd be, but it wouldn't be
now
!"

Roger and Ann and Eliza looked at each other with gleaming eyes. Jack chose this moment to act his age.

"This is silly," he said. "I don't believe it. I'm going back to the house."

The other three were aghast.

"Don't you
want
an adventure?" said Eliza. "Don't you want to tour round olden times and alter history?"

"Don't you remember last summer," said Roger, "and the Giants' Lair, and Robin Hood?"

Jack looked tempted. Then he looked stubborn. "Kid stuff," he said. "We probably just dreamed the whole thing. That toad isn't talking now. We just think it is. I'm going back to the house. I have to write a letter to Annie Strong." And he walked away.

"Let him go," said Eliza. "It'll mean that much more magic for the rest of us! Come on!" And she reached out for the patch of thyme where the Natterjack was sitting, and grabbed so eagerly that a whole rooted tuft came away in her hand.

"'Ere, 'ere, not so greedy!" said the Natterjack, in what Ann thought sounded like tones of alarm. "A sprig would 'ave been h'ample!"

But it was too late. Eliza was rubbing the whole tuft between her hands, and now she held them out, and she and Roger and Ann leaned over them and drew the spicy scent deep into their lungs. Then they straightened up and looked around.

Nothing seemed to have changed. The house was still the same, and so was the garden. And they didn't seem to be in olden times, because Roger was still wearing his patched blue jeans, and Eliza her blue school jumper and Ann her old pink dress with the smocking.

It was Ann who noticed the different thing first.

"Look!" she cried. "It's the sun. It's moved. It used to be over there."

The others looked where she pointed. Sure enough, the sun had changed position and was sinking toward the horizon in a red and yellow glow. Its last long rays touched the house and gilded it for a moment before it set completely.

"What a hoax!" said Eliza. "All we did was change the time from morning to evening! Now we've lost a whole day out of our lives, and I never did get to have that first swim!"

As she spoke, the last afterglow faded, and it began growing dark fast.

"Wait," said Roger. "There must be more to it than that."

The three children looked around again. This time it was Eliza who saw the odd thing first. The others didn't see it till a second later.

The odd thing was a shape, just out to sea, that was darker than the rest of the dark around it. The shape was the shape of a large boat or a small ship, with a single sail.

"A skiff," muttered Eliza, "or a small sloop. We're back in sailing-boat days!"

"Maybe not," said Roger. "Maybe it's just the South Shore Yacht Club."

"Without a light showing?" scoffed Eliza. "Not very likely! We're in olden times, I tell you! It's spies! Or smugglers! Or both!"

Now as they watched, a ship's lantern did suddenly show against the dark, and then another. The skiff (or sloop) was signaling.

"'One if by land and two if by sea!'" counted Ann. "Maybe it's
that
olden time."

"It couldn't be," said Roger. "That's Paul Revere. That's Boston and Lexington and Concord, not the South Shore!"

"Oh, that old Paul Revere!" said Eliza. "Do you suppose he got to have all the fun? Don't you suppose anybody else got to help spread the news, too? Hark!"

Everybody harked. There was a sound in the night. And though none of the three children had ever heard that exact sound before, all agreed that it could only be muffled oars! A few seconds later, a prow ground on sand and there came a cautious footfall on the secret stairway in the rock. A light issued forth from a door somewhere in the back of the house, and there was a sound of low voices.

"Dark deeds," muttered Eliza, "and secret meetings by moonlight. What could be sweeter? Come on. Let's lurk. We're missing it all. Let's deploy about the building."

"Let's not," said Ann.

But at that moment the light grew nearer and brighter, and the figure of a woman appeared, silhouetted against the house, a lantern in her hand.

"Prudence! Deborah! Preserved!" she called.

"Who's she talking to?" hissed Eliza.

"I think..." said Ann, timidly. "I think maybe she means us. I think maybe she thinks we're her children."

And it seemed that the woman did, for now she had seen them and was beckoning.

"Where do you suppose the real Prudence and the rest of them are?" wondered Roger.

"Who knows? Probably back in
our
time, scaring the populace," said Eliza. "Come on."

She ran forward, eager for whatever was to come, and Roger followed her. Ann tagged along behind, with dubious heart. As she drew near the light, she noticed a small form, hopping along in the grass beside her, and a voice sounded.

"That's gratitude for you," it said. "Off to your fun an' games with never a 'int of a thank you or a 'elping 'and for me, not that
I
mind, I'm sure!
I
'm not one to push myself in where I'm not h'asked!"

"But I
am
asking you!" said Ann. "Won't you come along? I'd really rather you did." And she meant it. Because if this were going to be a scary adventure, it might be just as well to have a magic being within call. So she put down a helping hand, and the Natterjack hopped on, and Ann stowed it carefully in her pocket, before running into the house after the others.

The woman was waiting in the hall. "Come. Quickly," she said, leading the way toward the back of the house.

"She didn't notice a thing," whispered Roger to Eliza. "Not our modern clothes, or being different, or anything."

"Probably she didn't see them," whispered Eliza. "Probably to her we're all in olden costume. Linsey-woolsey and stuff like that."

They followed the woman into the kitchen, and even though Roger was sure by now they'd gone back to olden times, or just about, the room looked almost the same to him as when he'd had breakfast there that morning. Except that in some ways it was different, being seemingly used as kitchen and living room combined.

A great fire roared in the chimney, and pacing up and down before the hearth was a gentleman in a greatcoat who must be the person who had just arrived in the boat. On a settle by the fire was another gentleman, with a quilt over his knees and a red flannel bandage round his throat.

"Children," said the woman, "here is Mr. Frothingham arrived from Boston with dreadful news. The Redcoats are coming!"

"Brave men will ride tonight!" said the gentleman in the greatcoat, pacing faster. "Tell the countryside! Rouse every South Shore village and town!"

"Naturally," said Eliza.

"We thought that must be it," said Roger.

The gentleman looked surprised and impressed at their coolness.

"And here is your father ill with the quinsy and unable to venture from the house," said the woman.

The other gentleman, the one with the bandage, smiled at Roger and put a hand on his shoulder. "But my son Preserved here has a fine pair of hands with a horse, ay, and a good strong voice, also, and may more than fitly fill my place," he said.

Roger, who had seldom been on a horse in his life, gulped, and tried to look ready for anything.

"What about me?" said Eliza. "Haven't I just as good hands as he has?"

"Prudence, Prudence," said the woman. "Must you ever belie your name?"

"If the others are going, I want to go, too!" said Ann, suddenly. She was just as surprised as everyone else was to find herself saying it.

"Nay, Deborah!" cried the woman. "You are too young for such charades!"

But the gentleman in the greatcoat smote his thigh in a dashing and hot-blooded way. "By thunder!" he cried. "If the youngest Yankee of them all is not afraid to ride for liberty, then surely the right will prevail. To horse, and quickly!"

"The groom is readying the steeds now," said the father of Preserved and Prudence and Deborah. There seemed to be a twinkle in his eye. Even as he spoke, a thudding of hoofs was heard from without.

"Deary me, pray that no harm befall you! Preserved, do not forget your muffler. Girls, your mittens and tippets!" cried the woman, fussing around the three children and buttoning them up, as mothers always will, whatever the century.

They went out into the stable yard, all but the bandaged gentleman, who remained watching from a window, out of regard for his quinsy.

Ann and Roger were relieved when the steeds turned out to be an elderly roan for the gentleman and a trio of dapple-gray ponies for the three younger ones, but Eliza was scornful. She had hoped for a wild Arabian stallion, at
least.