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[89] <h2 class="nobreak">TWELVE Jan and the Magic Pencil</h2> THERE was once a little boy called Jan, who lived in a country village. One day he had the good luck to be able to help a fairy out of a ditch, where she had got stuck in the mud. The fairy was very grateful to Jan, and promised him, as a reward for his kindness, that he should have what he most wished for in the world. Jan was not a very clever boy, and at first he couldn’t think of anything to wish for. His father was a farmer, and Jan had a good home and plenty to eat and drink; his only real trouble was that he was always at the bottom of his class at school. His father scolded and his mother wept, but Jan always stopped at the bottom. He wasn’t so bad at reading and writing, but he simply could not do arithmetic. His sums were always wrong, even the quite easy ones. So when he had thought for a few minutes and the fairy was beginning to grow impatient, he decided that the best thing for him to wish for was that he might be able to get his sums right. The fairy accordingly gave him a magic slate[90] pencil which possessed the power of being able to do any kind of arithmetic without ever making any mistake. You simply held it in your hand and it would write down the answer on your slate almost before you had time to read over the figures. Jan was delighted with his present, which he put carefully away in his pencil-box. He could hardly believe that it would do such wonderful things; but, sure enough, he found he could do all his sums without the slightest effort, and that every one of them was right. Addition, Subtraction, Multiplication—it made nothing of them all. Even those dreadful Long Division sums were no trouble to the magic pencil: it danced nimbly down the slate without stopping even for a second, and the answers were always right. Jan’s schoolmaster was astonished, so were his parents, and delighted too, when by the end of the week Jan had risen to the top of the school. “What a good teacher I am, after all!” said the schoolmaster to himself. “I have even been able to teach arithmetic to a boy who was so hopelessly stupid over it that he couldn’t add up two and two correctly.” He was so proud of this that he actually invited the principal people in the neighbourhood to come in and see his wonderful scholar. [91]And so it happened that the doctor, the lawyer, the priest, the mayor and one or two other important folk from round about arrived at the schoolhouse one fine day, all agog to see the schoolmaster’s wonderful pupil. <div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_091.jpg" alt="" /></div> “Come here, Jan,” said the schoolmaster, “and show these gentlemen what you can do.” And he wrote out a long sum on the blackboard—an addition sum in twenty rows, all bristling with eights and nines. Poor Jan came forward in fear and trembling. “I’d rather do it on my slate,” he said. But his schoolmaster wouldn’t hear of that. [92]So Jan had to stand up in front of the blackboard with a piece of chalk in his hand. Of course he couldn’t do the sum at all. It took him a dreadfully long time and not one figure was right. “The boy’s nervous,” said the doctor. “You’ve been overtaxing him.” The lawyer smiled and took a pinch of snuff. “I had an idea that our friend the schoolmaster was rather drawing the long bow,” he whispered to the mayor. The priest came and patted Jan’s head. “Try again, my child,” he said. “You’ll do better next time.” But Jan did no better the next time. If anything, he did even worse. The schoolmaster was much annoyed. It made him look so foolish. When the visitors had gone he gave Jan a good caning and sent him home in disgrace. His father and mother were very disappointed, too, when they heard what had happened. “I always knew the lad was a dullard,” said his father. Jan wandered disconsolately out into the sunshine. It’s not nice to be called a dullard, particularly when you’ve been top of your school for a whole month. His mother came after him. “You shall have a hot apple pasty for your supper,” she said; “it’s in the oven now.” But even apple pasty couldn’t console Jan. [93]He went into the lane and sat down near the place where he had seen the fairy. He rather hoped he might see her again. Sure enough, he hadn’t been there five minutes when he felt a light touch on his shoulder, and there she was, perched on a swaying wild-rose spray in the hedge close beside him. “Oh, come,” she said when Jan had told her his trouble, “we can soon remedy that.” And she gave him a piece of chalk to keep in his pencil-box together with his fairy slate pencil. “Now you will be able to do sums on the blackboard as well as on your slate,” she said. Jan thanked her and went home feeling quite happy, so that he was able thoroughly to enjoy his supper and his apple pasty. Things went swimmingly for a while. Jan did more wonderful sums than ever, both on the blackboard and on his slate. The schoolmaster was more careful this time; but he called in first one person and then another to see what Jan could do, and now he was no longer disappointed. Even the lawyer had to acknowledge that the boy was indeed a marvel. But alas and alas! After a little time Jan became so conceited that he was quite unbearable. He gave himself the most extraordinary airs. He would hardly condescend to speak to the other[94] boys. He even patronised his own father and mother. “No boy in the whole country is as clever as I,” he said. “The King ought to see what I can do. I must certainly go to the Court. How they will open their eyes!” And so one fine day he prepared to set off to the Court to show the King what he could do. Now the King of that country was a rather cantankerous old gentleman, and made short work of any one who displeased him. Jan’s mother didn’t very much like the idea of his going, but Jan would not be dissuaded. “You will see, mother,” he said, “I shall come home with a bagful of gold, and perhaps the King will want me to stay at his Court. When I am grown up I shall marry one of the Princesses, and you will be able to ride in a golden coach and to wear a mantle of blue velvet trimmed with ermine. All the neighbours will curtsey to you and call you Madam. Wouldn’t you like that?” His mother couldn’t imagine that she would like that very much, but she thought it was rather sweet of Jan to think so much of his mother, and she gave him a kiss and one of his father’s best linen shirts, and bade him be sure not to get his feet wet. So Jan set off to the palace, and when he got there he sent in a message by the beautiful footman[95] who opened the door that Jan, the Arithmetical Wonder, had come to show the Royal Family what he could do. It was a dull rainy afternoon, and it so happened that the King, Queen, and the two Princesses were sitting at home in their State apartments feeling rather bored. The Lord Chamberlain, who generally amused them on wet days by asking them riddles, had gone to bed with a very bad cold in his head, and they had nothing to do. “Shall we have him in?” said the King to the Queen. “He sounds very dull,” said the younger Princess, who was busy making pale blue rosettes for her bedroom slippers. “Better than nothing,” said her sister, who had just finished reading all the love-letters that had come by the morning’s post, and was pasting the prettiest ones into an album which she kept for that purpose. So Jan was ushered into the royal apartments, and he told the King and Queen of his attainments—how he could do any sum, however difficult, as quickly as it could be written down, almost more quickly, indeed. He was a nice-looking lad and he had no end of assurance, and brought with him, moreover, letters from all manner of important personages who had tested his wonderful powers. [96]An attendant was sent to fetch the great Court account tablets, which were made of ivory inlaid with silver, and the King offered Jan his own golden pencil with rubies and diamonds round the top. “Thank you very much,” said Jan, “I prefer a plain slate or a blackboard, and I always use my own pencil.” “Prefer, indeed,” said the King, with a great black frown. “What business have you to prefer anything? Slates and blackboards! I’d have you know that this is the King’s Palace and not a village schoolhouse. If a gold pencil and ivory tablets are not good enough for you, you can go and do your sums on the dungeon walls.” Jan was very frightened. He didn’t at all like the idea of a dungeon, so there was nothing for it but to brave it out as best he might. One of the lords-in-waiting was bidden to write down the sums, and poor miserable Jan wildly scribbled down the answers as fast as he could, with the eyes of the King, the Queen and of their two lovely daughters and all the lords- and ladies-in-waiting riveted upon him. But as it happened, the only person at the Court who was any good at arithmetic was the Lord Chamberlain, and he, as you know, was in bed with a cold. It is much easier to put down sums than to work them out, and not one member of[97] the Royal Family had the faintest idea as to whether Jan’s answers were right or wrong. The King looked as wise as he could. “Very good, very good,” he kept saying. The Princesses clapped their hands. They had never been able to get their sums right; but after all, what does it matter whether a princess can do arithmetic or not? If one or two of the Court ladies and gentlemen had a suspicion that the figures were not quite correct they daren’t suggest such a thing. If the King said the answers were right it was as much as their lives were worth to say they were wrong. But of course Jan knew nothing of all this. He wrote on and on, and all the time only one thought was in his mind. “How wonderful, how wonderful!” he kept saying to himself. “I have grown so clever that I can do the sums by myself. I shall never need to bother again about the stupid old pencil and chalk. I really am the cleverest boy in the whole kingdom.” He did not stay very long at the palace, and he was a little disappointed to find that no one offered him a post at Court and that he was not even presented with a bag of gold pieces. Every one thanked him politely and he was given a good tea in the housekeeper’s room, and the King and Queen shook hands with him and[98] gave him a pretty silver brooch to wear in his cap, while the Princesses smiled pleasantly and wished him a good journey. But he was buoyed up by his wonderful discovery. He went singing along the road, and when he presently came to a deep pond he threw his slate pencil and his bit of chalk into the middle of it, and continued gaily on his way. You may imagine how badly he wanted them back again the next day, and for many, many days after: for of course he was as bad as ever at arithmetic, and went straight to the bottom of the class, where he stayed. Many times he went to the place where he had met the fairy, but she never came again, for if you once throw away fairy gifts you never, never get them back again. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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