Wet Magic E. Nesbit (interesting books to read for teens txt) đ
- Author: E. Nesbit
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There was one thing, though, that roused the childrenâs resentmentâ âchiefly, I think, because its owners were clean and did not look half-starved, so there was no barrier of pity between them and dislikeâ âa sort of round table sloping up to its center. On this small objects were arranged. For a penny you received two hoops. If you could throw a hoop over an object that object was yours. None of the rustic visitors to the fair could, it seemed, or cared to. It did not look difficult, however. Nor was it. At the first shot a tiny candlestick was encircled. Between pride and shame Mavis held out a hand.
âHard luck,â said one of the two young women, too clean to be pitied. âHas to go flat onâ âsee?â
Francis tried again. This time the ring encircled a matchbox, âflat on.â
âHard luck,â said the lady again.
âWhatâs the matter now?â the children asked, baffled.
âHoop has to be red side up,â said she. So she scored. Now they went to the other side and had another pennâorth of hoops from the other too clean young woman. And the same thing happened. Only on the second winning she said:
âHard luck. Hoops have to be blue side up.â
It was Bernardâs blood that was up. He determined to clear the board.
âBlue side up, is it,â he said sternly, and took another pennâorth. This time he brought down a tin pin tray and a little box which, I hope, contained something. The girl hesitated and then handed over the prizes. âAnother pennâorth of hoops,â said Bernard, warming to the work.
âHard luck,â said she. âWe donât give more than two pennâorth to any one party.â
The prizes were not the kind of things you care to keep, even as trophies of victoryâ âespecially when you have before you the business of rescuing a Mermaid. The children gave their prizes to a small female bystander and went to the shooting gallery. That, at least, could have no nonsense about it. If you aimed at a bottle and hit it it would break. No sordid self-seeking custodian could rob you of the pleasant tinkling of the broken bottle. And even with a poor weapon it is not impossible to aim at a bottle and hit it. This is trueâ âbut at the shooting gallery the trouble was not to hit the bottles. There were so many of them and they were so near. The children got thirteen tinkling smashes for their fourteen shots. The bottles were hung fifteen feet away instead of thirty. Why? Space is not valuable at the fairâ âcan it be that the people of Sussex are such poor shots that thirty feet is to them a prohibitive distance?
They did not throw for coconuts, nor did they ride on the little horses or pull themselves to dizzy heights in the swings. There was no heart left in them for such adventuresâ âand besides everyone in the fair, saving themselves and the small female bystander and the hoop girls, was dirtier than you would believe possible. I suppose Beachfield has a water supply. But you would have doubted it if you had been at the fair. They heard no laughter, no gay talk, no hearty give-and-take of holiday jests. A dull heavy silence brooded over the place, and you could hear that silence under the shallow insincere gaiety of the steam roundabout.
Laughter and song, music and good-fellowship, dancing and innocent revelry, there were none of these at Beachfield Fair. For music there was the steam roundaboutâs echoes of the sordid musical comedy of the year before the year before lastâ âlaughter there was notâ ânor revelryâ âonly the dirty guardians of the machines for getting your pennies stood gloomily huddled, and a few groups of dejected girls and little boys shivered in the cold wind that had come up with the sunset. In that wind, too, danced the dust, the straw, the newspaper and the chocolate wrappers. The only dancing there was. The big tent that held the circus was at the top of the ground, and the people who were busy among the ropes and pegs and between the bright vans resting on their shafts seemed gayer and cleaner than the people who kept the little arrangements for people not to win prizes at. And now the circus at last was opened; the flap of the tent was pinned back, and a gypsy-looking woman, with oily black ringlets and eyes like bright black beads, came out at the side to take the money of those who wished to see the circus. People were now strolling toward it in twos and threes, and of these our four were the very first, and the gypsy woman took four warm sixpences from their four hands.
âWalk in, walk in, my little dears, and see the white elephant,â said a stout, black-mustached man in evening dressâ âgreenish it was and shiny about the seams. He flourished a long whip as he spoke, and the children stopped, although they had paid their sixpences, to hear what they were to see when they did walk in. âThe white elephantâ âtail, trunk, and tusks all complete, sixpence only. See the Back Try A or Camels, or Ships of the Arabsâ âheavy drinker when he gets the chanceâ âtotal abstainer while crossing the desert. Walk up, walk up. See the Trained Wolves and Wolverines in their great National Dance with the flags of all countries. Walk up, walk up, walk up. See the Educated Seals and the Unique Lotus of the Heast in her famous barebacked act, riding three horses at once, the wonder and envy of royalty. Walk up and see the very table Mermaid caught on your own coast only yesterday as ever was.â
âThank you,â said Francis, âI think we will.â And the four went through the opened canvas into the pleasant yellow dusty twilight which was the inside of a squarish sort of tent, with an opening at the end, and through that opening you could see the sawdust-covered ring of the circus and
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