Wain.”
“And what are they?” asked Jane.
“Oh, they’re the surnames of some of the star families. There goes a jolly rocket,” answered George, and Jane felt as if she almost understood about the star families.
The fairy spears of light twinkled and gleamed: they were much prettier than the big, blaring, blitzing bonfire that was smoking and flaming and spluttering in the next-door-but-one garden—prettier even than the colored fires at the Crystal Palace.
“I wish we could see them nearer,” Jane said. “I wonder if the star families are nice families—the kind that mother would like us to go to tea with, if we were little stars?”
“They aren’t that sort of families at all, Silly,” said her brother, kindly trying to explain. “I only said ‘families’ because a kid like you wouldn’t have understood if I’d said constel… and, besides, I’ve forgotten the end of the word. Anyway, the stars are all up in the sky, so you can’t go to tea with them.”
“No,” said Jane; “I said if we were little stars.”
“But we aren’t,” said George.
“No,” said Jane, with a sigh. “I know that. I’m not so stupid as you think, George. But the Tory Bories are somewhere at the edge. Couldn’t we go and see
them?”
“Considering you’re eight, you haven’t much sense.” George kicked his boots against the paling to warm his toes. “It’s half the world away.”
“It looks very near,” said Jane, hunching up her shoulders to keep her neck warm.
“They’re close to the North Pole,” said George. “Look here—I don’t care a straw about the Aurora Borealis, but I shouldn’t mind discovering the North Pole: it’s awfully difficult and dangerous, and then you come home and write a book about it with a lot of pictures, and everybody says how brave you are.”
Jane got off the fence.
“Oh, George,
let’s,”
she said. “We shall never have such a chance again—all alone by ourselves—and quite late, too.”
“I’d go right enough if it wasn’t for you,” George answered, gloomily, “but you know they always say I lead you into mischief—and if we went to the North Pole we should get our boots wet, as likely as not, and you remember what they said about not going on the grass.”
“They said the
lawn,”
said Jane. “We’re not going on the
lawn
. Oh, George, do,
do
let’s. It doesn’t look so
very
far—we could be back before they had time to get dreadfully angry.”
“All right,” said George, “but mind
I
don’t want to go.”
So off they went. They got over the fence, which was very cold and white and shiny because it was beginning to freeze, and on the other side of the fence was somebody else’s garden, so they got out of that as quickly as they could, and beyond that was a field where there was another big bonfire, with people standing round it who looked quite black.
“It’s like Indians,” said George, and wanted to stop and look, but Jane pulled him on, and they passed by the bonfire and got through a gap in the hedge into another field—a dark one; and far away, beyond quite a number of other dark fields, the Northern Lights shone and sparkled and twinkled.
Now, during the winter the Arctic regions come much farther south than they are marked on the map. Very few people know this, though you would think they could tell it by the ice in the jugs of a morning. And just when George and Jane were starting for the North Pole, the Arctic regions had come down very nearly as far as Forest Hill, so that, as the children walked on, it grew colder and colder, and presently they saw that the fields were covered with snow, and there were great icicles hanging from all the hedges and gates. And the Northern Lights still seemed some way off.
They were crossing a very rough, snowy field when Jane first noticed the animals. There were white rabbits and white hares, and all sorts and sizes of white birds, and some larger creatures in the shadows of the
“And what are they?” asked Jane.
“Oh, they’re the surnames of some of the star families. There goes a jolly rocket,” answered George, and Jane felt as if she almost understood about the star families.
The fairy spears of light twinkled and gleamed: they were much prettier than the big, blaring, blitzing bonfire that was smoking and flaming and spluttering in the next-door-but-one garden—prettier even than the colored fires at the Crystal Palace.
“I wish we could see them nearer,” Jane said. “I wonder if the star families are nice families—the kind that mother would like us to go to tea with, if we were little stars?”
“They aren’t that sort of families at all, Silly,” said her brother, kindly trying to explain. “I only said ‘families’ because a kid like you wouldn’t have understood if I’d said constel… and, besides, I’ve forgotten the end of the word. Anyway, the stars are all up in the sky, so you can’t go to tea with them.”
“No,” said Jane; “I said if we were little stars.”
“But we aren’t,” said George.
“No,” said Jane, with a sigh. “I know that. I’m not so stupid as you think, George. But the Tory Bories are somewhere at the edge. Couldn’t we go and see
them?”
“Considering you’re eight, you haven’t much sense.” George kicked his boots against the paling to warm his toes. “It’s half the world away.”
“It looks very near,” said Jane, hunching up her shoulders to keep her neck warm.
“They’re close to the North Pole,” said George. “Look here—I don’t care a straw about the Aurora Borealis, but I shouldn’t mind discovering the North Pole: it’s awfully difficult and dangerous, and then you come home and write a book about it with a lot of pictures, and everybody says how brave you are.”
Jane got off the fence.
“Oh, George,
let’s,”
she said. “We shall never have such a chance again—all alone by ourselves—and quite late, too.”
“I’d go right enough if it wasn’t for you,” George answered, gloomily, “but you know they always say I lead you into mischief—and if we went to the North Pole we should get our boots wet, as likely as not, and you remember what they said about not going on the grass.”
“They said the
lawn,”
said Jane. “We’re not going on the
lawn
. Oh, George, do,
do
let’s. It doesn’t look so
very
far—we could be back before they had time to get dreadfully angry.”
“All right,” said George, “but mind
I
don’t want to go.”
So off they went. They got over the fence, which was very cold and white and shiny because it was beginning to freeze, and on the other side of the fence was somebody else’s garden, so they got out of that as quickly as they could, and beyond that was a field where there was another big bonfire, with people standing round it who looked quite black.
“It’s like Indians,” said George, and wanted to stop and look, but Jane pulled him on, and they passed by the bonfire and got through a gap in the hedge into another field—a dark one; and far away, beyond quite a number of other dark fields, the Northern Lights shone and sparkled and twinkled.
Now, during the winter the Arctic regions come much farther south than they are marked on the map. Very few people know this, though you would think they could tell it by the ice in the jugs of a morning. And just when George and Jane were starting for the North Pole, the Arctic regions had come down very nearly as far as Forest Hill, so that, as the children walked on, it grew colder and colder, and presently they saw that the fields were covered with snow, and there were great icicles hanging from all the hedges and gates. And the Northern Lights still seemed some way off.
They were crossing a very rough, snowy field when Jane first noticed the animals. There were white rabbits and white hares, and all sorts and sizes of white birds, and some larger creatures in the shadows of the
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