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[103] <h2 class="nobreak">FOURTEEN The Magic Umbrella</h2> THERE was once a wizard who possessed a magic umbrella; and, being rather careless in his habits, he had the misfortune to leave it behind him in a small country town where he had had an appointment to meet a friend in the market-place at midnight. He left it standing against one of the wooden market stalls, and there it was found next morning by a farmer’s wife who had come into town to sell her butter and eggs. “That’s a good, strong-looking umbrella,” she said to herself; “if no one comes to claim it I shall keep it.” No one made any inquiries, so she took possession of it, and when she went home in the evening, the umbrella went with her. Now, as I said before, this was no ordinary umbrella, but was possessed of magic powers. If you held it open in your hand and counted three and then stopped, you found yourself in your own house. If you counted five, however, you found yourself where you most desired to be. But if you counted up to seven, you were immediately[104] carried away to the top of the nearest church spire. Now of all this the farmer’s wife was quite unaware, and you shall hear what befell her in consequence. It chanced to be very wet on the next market day, and when presently the rain began to drip upon her bonnet through the canvas roof of the stall, she was very glad to be able to put up the umbrella and shelter beneath it. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and she had sold most of her eggs and butter. A little boy came along and asked for three fresh eggs. “There you are, my love,” she said. “The last three.” She held the umbrella in one hand and with the other put the eggs into the boy’s basket. “One, two, three,” she said. And instantly she found herself standing in the middle of her own pleasant kitchen, with her basket on her arm and the open umbrella still firmly held in her hand. You can imagine how surprised and puzzled she was. She hadn’t the faintest idea how she had got there, but she decided to say nothing about it to any one. When presently her husband came in for his tea he asked why she had come home so early. [105]“I had a bit of a headache,” she said. “I think the sun was too strong for me.” The farmer gave a great guffaw. “Come, come, mother,” he said, “you must have been dreaming. There’s been no sun to-day, neither in town nor country.” <div class="figcenter"><ANTIMG src="images/i_105.jpg" alt="" /></div> “Well, maybe it was the damp that got into my head,” said his wife. “I think I’ll go to bed and have a basin of hot gruel.” So she went to bed and had the hot gruel, and by the next morning she had almost forgotten all about her queer adventure. Nothing more happened for some time. The weather was warm and sunny, and the umbrella stood unused in the corner of the kitchen. [106]But one day the farmer’s wife decided to go and see her daughter, who was married and lived in a village a few miles away. It was a very hot day and she thought it would be a good plan to take the umbrella with her to shade her from the sun. After dinner she and her daughter went for a walk upon a neighbouring common, and when they had gone a little way they sat down for a rest on a warm dry bit of grass by the side of the road that ran across the heath, for they were hot and rather tired. “What a lot of motor-cars there are on this road, to be sure,” said the farmer’s wife, who held the open umbrella over her head. “One, two, three, four, five.... I wish I was in one of them.” No sooner had she uttered these words than she found herself plumped right into the middle of the nearest car, in which were sitting an old lady and gentleman and a fat spaniel, all fast asleep. You can imagine what a scene there was. The dog barked, the old lady and gentleman were furious. “Stop, stop,” they cried to the chauffeur, who was driving on quite calmly and taking no notice at all of the noise going on behind him. As for the farmer’s wife, she was so astonished that she could not say anything at all. [107]“What next?” stormed the old gentleman, foaming with rage. “What next, I should like to know? How dare you get into our car? How dare you, madam? What are we coming to? A pretty state of affairs when a man can’t go for a ride in his own car without being molested by impertinent strangers! Scandalous, scandalous! I shall report it to the police.” The farmer’s wife had by this time managed to get out of the car, but she was so bewildered that she was still unable to speak, and long after the angry gentleman had driven off with his wife and his dog, she stood silent and motionless in the middle of the road with the umbrella in her hand, wide open, and with her mouth wide open too. Her daughter, who came hurrying up, was also very much astonished. “What on earth made you do that, mother?” she said. “I couldn’t believe my own eyes.” But her mother could only shake her head. She couldn’t make it out at all. Never, never had such an extraordinary thing befallen her. “I am afraid I can’t be very well,” she said at last. “I think I’ll go and see the doctor to-morrow.” So the next day she went to see the doctor. It was rather showery and she took the umbrella again, for she had never thought of connecting it with the strange things which had[108] occurred. The doctor felt her pulse and looked at her tongue. “You’ve got a touch of Thingumabobitis,” he said. “You must be very careful. I’ll write you a few prescriptions. You must take a pill every three hours, and a pink powder every two hours, and a blue powder half an hour before every meal, and you must never on any account let your nose get cold. It’s not dangerous so long as you are careful. Come again next week.” By this time the sun had come out, and as she was much taken up with wondering how she was going to keep her nose warm, the farmer’s wife forgot all about the umbrella. Next day, when she went to fetch it, it was gone. I don’t know what happened to it, nor who has it now. But let me give you a word of warning. If you come across a stray umbrella, pray be careful not to do any counting while you have it open in your hand. It wouldn’t be very pleasant to find yourself suddenly hanging from the top of the nearest church steeple, now would it? <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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