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'Sweetest and fairest of damsels, cried the gnome, 'do not be angry; everything that is in my power I will do but do not ask the impossible. So long as the sap was fresh in the roots the magic staff could keep them in the forms you desired, but as the sap dried up they withered away.
Between you an' me an' Frankie, we are the Gnome, now in the Fleet Reserve at Pompey Portsmouth, I should say." "The first sea will carry it all away," said Moorshed, leaning gloomily outboard, "but it will do for the present." "We've a lot of prima facie evidence about us," Mr. Pyecroft went on. "A first-class torpedo boat sits lower in the water than a destroyer.
'Sweetest and fairest of damsels, cried the gnome, 'do not be angry; everything that is in my power I will do but do not ask the impossible. So long as the sap was fresh in the roots the magic staff could keep them in the forms you desired, but as the sap dried up they withered away.
The savage Breton, holding his cap in one hand and his heavy carbine in the other, dumpy and thickset as a gnome, and bathed in that white light the shadows of which give such fantastic aspects to forms, seemed to belong more to a world of goblins than to reality. This apparition and its tone of reproach came upon Francine with the suddenness of a phantom.
"I dare not!" cried the gardener. "Monsieur, I dare not! The old one would kill me. You do not know him. He would cut me into pieces and burn the pieces. Monsieur, it is impossible." Ste. Marie withdrew the other hundred-franc note and held the two together in his hand. Once more the gnome made his strange, croaking sound and the withered face twisted with anguish. "Monsieur!
The venerable turnkey, a gnome in a steeple-crowned hat, protruded a blood-red hand backwards in the direction of the postern. "Señor Caballero," he croaked, "I pray you to consider this house your own. My servants are yours." Within was a gravel yard, shut in by portentous lead-white house-sides with black window holes.
Sometimes I stopped near Victoria Station, put my foot upon a block, and had a boot half ruined while I watched the bootblack. Sometimes I bought a variety of evening papers from a ragged gnome who might be a wonder-child, and made mistakes over the payment to prolong the interview. I leaned against gaunt houses and saw the dancing waifs yield their poor lives to ugly, hag-ridden music.
Farewell, little Hulda; guard well the bracelet; I must to my ruined temple again. "One moment stay, dear fairy," said Hulda. "Where am I most likely to see the gnome?" "In the south," replied the fairy, "for they love hot sunshine. I can stay no longer. Farewell." So saying, the fairy again became a moth and fluttered to the window.
Oliver could scarce help laughing aloud as he gazed at his guide, for, standing as he did with the candle close to his face, his cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, and part of the brim of his hat and shoulders were brought into brilliant light, while the rest of him was lost in the profound darkness of the level behind, and the flame of his candle rested above his head like the diadem of some aristocratic gnome.
"Polly Brewster," said the girl to herself, as she walked, slowly and musingly, back to her room, "the busy haunts of men are more suited to your style than the free-and-untrammeled spaces of nature, and well you know it. But you'll go to-morrow and you'll keep on going until you find out what is behind those brown-green goblin spectacles. If only he didn't look so like a gnome!"
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