JustNowLand by E Nesbit

Books at bedtime by Calming Anxiety. Justnowland, by E. Nezbit. "Auntie, no, no, I will be good, oh I will." The little weak voice came from the other side of the locked attic door.

"You should have thought of that before," said the strong, sharp voice outside. "I didn't mean to be naughty, I didn't truly." "It's not what you meant, miss, it's what you do, I'll teach you not to me mean my lady."

The bitter irony of the last words dried the child's tears. "Very well then," she screamed. "I won't be good, I won't try to be good." "I thought you'd like your nasty old garden weeded."

"I only did it to please you." "How was I to know it was turnips?" "It looked just like weeds." "Then came a pause, then another shriek, oh Auntie, don't, oh let me out, let me out."

"I'll not let you, not let you out till I've broken your spirit my girl, you may rely on that."

The sharp voice stopped abruptly on a high note, determined feet in strongboots sounded on the stairs, fainted and fainted. A door slammed below with a dreadful deafness, and Elsie was left alone, to wonder how soon her spirit would break, for at no less a price it appeared could freedom be brought. The outlook seemed hopeless, the martyrs and heroines, with whom Elsie usually identified herself. Their spirit had never been broken, not chains nor the rack nor the fiery stake itself, even had weakened them.

Impresonment in an attic would to them have been luxury compared with the boiling oil and the smoking faggot and all the intimate cruelties of mysterious instruments of steel and leather, in cold dungeons, lit only by the dull flair of torches and the bright watchful eye of inquisitors. A month in the house of Auntie self-styled and really only an under-related Mrs. Staines, paid to take care of the child. It held but one interest, Fox's book of martyrs. It was a horrible book, the thick oliographs, their guarding sheets of tissue paper sticking to the prints like bandages to a wound.

Elsie knew all about wounds. She had had one herself, only a scalded hand it is true, but a wound is a wound and all over the world. It was a book that made you afraid to go to bed, but it was a book you could not help reading and now it seemed as though it might last help and not merely sicken and terrify, but the help was frail and broke almost instantly on the thought. They were brave because they were good.

How can I be brave when there is nothing to be brave about except me not knowing the difference between turnips and weeds? She sank down, a huddled black bunch on the bare attic floor and called wildly to someone who could not answer her. Her frock was black because the one who always used to wear could not answer anymore. Her father was in India where you cannot answer or even here your little girl, however much she cries in England.

"I won't cry," said Elsie, sobbing as violently as ever. "I can't breathe, even if I'm not a saint, but only a turnip mistaken. I'll be a Bastille prisoner and a tame mouse." She dried her eyes through the bosom of the black frock, still heaved like the sea of a storm and looked about for a mouse to tame.

One could not begin too soon, but unfortunately there seemed to be no mouse at liberty just then. There were mouse holes right enough all round the wanescoat and in the broad, time-worn boards of the old floor, but never a mouse. Mouse, mouse, Elsie called softly. Mousey, mousey, come and be tamed.

Not a mouse replied. The attic was perfectly empty and dreadfully clean. The other attic, Elsie knew, had lots of interesting things in it. Not furniture and saddles and sacks of seed potatoes, but in this attic, nothing.

Not so much as a bit of string on the floor that one could make knots in or twist around one's finger till it made the red riches that are so interesting to look at afterwards. Not even a piece of paper in the drafty, cold fireplace that one could make into paper boats or pick letters in with a pin or the tags of one shoelaces. As she stooped to sea with her under the great some old matchbox or a bit of twig might have escaped the broom, she suddenly saw what she had wanted most, a mouse. It was lying on its side.

She put her hand out very slowly and gently and whispered in her softest tones. Wake up, Mousey, wake up and come and be tamed. But the mouse never moved and when she took it in her hand it was cold. "Oh, she moaned, not dead and I can never tame you."

When she sat on the cold heart and cried again with the dead mouse in her lap, "Don't cry," said somebody. "I'll find you something to tame if you really want it." Elsie started and saw the head of a black bird peering at her through the square opening that leads to the chimney. The edges of him looked ragged and rainbow coloured, but that was because she saw him through the tears.

To a tearless eye he was black and very smooth and sleek. "Oh," she said, "and nothing more." Quite so said the bird politely. You are surprised to hear me speak but your surprise will be, of course, much less when I tell you that I am really a prime minister condemned by an enchanter to wear the form of a crow till I can get rid of it.

"Oh," said Elsie. "Yes, indeed," said the crow and suddenly grew smaller till he could come comfortably through the square opening. He did this, perched on the top bar and hopped to the floor. And there he got bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger.

Elsie had scrambled to her feet and then a black little girl of eight and off the usual size stood face to face with a crow as big as a man and no doubt as old. She found words then. "Oh don't," she cried, "don't get any bigger. I can't bear it.

I can't do that," said the crow kindly. So that's all right. I thought you would better get used to seeing rather large crows before I take you to crow now land. We are all life-size there.

But crow's life-size isn't a man's life-size Elsie managed to say. "Oh yes, it is. When it's an enchanted crow, the bird replied, "that makes all the difference." Now you are saying you wanted to tame something.

If you'll come with me to crow now land, I'll show you something worth taming. Is crow what's its name a nice place?" Elsie asked cautiously. She was somehow not so very frightened now.

"So, I should like it so much I shan't want to be taming things." "Oh yes, you will. When you know how much depends on it." "But I shouldn't like," said Elsie, "to go up the chimney.

This isn't my best frock, of course, but still quite so," said the crow. I only came that way for fun, and because I can fly, you'll go in by the chief gate of the kingdom like a lady. Do come. But Elsie's still hesitated.

What sort of thing is it you want me to tame, she said outfully. The enormous crow hesitated. "A sort of lizard," said it last. And if you can only tame it so that all do what you tell it to, you'll save the whole kingdom and will put up a statue to you.

But not in the people's park unless they wish it, the bird added mysteriously. "I should like to save a kingdom," said Elsie, "and I like lizards. I've seen lots of them in India." "Then you'll come," said the crow.

"Yes, but how do we go?" "There are only two doors out of this world into another," said the crow. "I'll take you through the nearest, allow me." It put its wings around her so that her face nestled against the black softness of the underwing feathers.

It was warm and dark and sleepy there and very comfortable. For a moment she seemed to swim easily in a soft sea of dreams. Then with a little shock, she found herself standing on a marble terrace, looking out over a city far more beautiful and wonderful than she'd ever seen or imagined. The great man-sized crow was by her side.

"Now," it said, pointing with the longest of its long black wing feathers. "You see this beautiful city?" "Yes," said Elsie, "of course I do." "Well, I hardly liked to tell you the stories of the crow, but it's a long time ago, and I hope that you won't think the worst of us, because we're really very sorry."

"If you're really sorry," said Elsie, primarily, "of course it's all right." Unfortunately it isn't said the crow. You see the great square down there. Elsie looked down on a square of green trees, broken a little towards the middle.

"Well, that's where the—where it is. What you've got to tame, you know?" "But what did you do that was wrong?" We were unkind," said the crow slowly, "an unjust and ungenerous.

We had servants and work people doing everything for us. We had nothing to do but be kind, and yet we weren't." "Dear me," said Elsie, feebly, "we had several warnings of the crow. There was an old parchment, and it said just how you ought to behave and all that, but we didn't care what it said.

I was court magician as well as Prime Minister, and I ought to have known better, but I didn't. We all wore frot coats and high hats then he added sadly." "Go on," said Elsie, her eyes wondering from one beautiful building to another of the many that nestled among the trees of the city, and the old parchment said that if we didn't behave well, our bodies would grow like our souls, but we didn't think so. And then all in a minute they did, and we were crows, and our bodies were as black as our souls.

Our souls are quite white now, it added reassuringly. But what was the dreadful thing that you'd done? We'd been unkind to the people who worked for us, not giving them enough food or clothes of fire, and at last we took away even their play. There was a big park that the people played in, and we built a wall around it, and took it for ourselves, and the king was going to set a statue of himself up in the middle, and then before we could begin to enjoy it, we returned into black, big, and the working people into big white pigeons, and they can go where they like.

But we have to stay here till we've tamed her. Well, we never can go into the park until we've settled the thing that guards it, and that thing is a big, big lizard. In fact, it's a dragon, oh, cried Elcy.

But she was not as frightened as a crow seemed to expect, because every now and then she had felt sure that she was really safe in her own bed, and that this was a dream. It was not a dream, but the belief that it was made her very brave. And she felt quite sure that she could settle a dragon, if necessary, a dream dragon, that is. And the rest of the time, she thought about Fox's book of martyrs, and what a heroine she now had the chance to be.

"You want me to kill it?" she asked. "Oh no, to tame it," said the crow. "We've tried all sorts of means, long whips like people tame horses with, and red hot bars such as line tamed is used, and it's all been perfectly useless, and there the dragon lives, and will live till someone can tame him and get him to follow them like a tame form, and eat out of their hand." What does a dragon like to eat, Elcy asked?

Crowse replied the other in an uncomfortable whisper, "At least I've never known it eat anything else." "I might try and tame it now," Elcy asked. "O dear no," said the crow. "We'll have a banquet in your honour, and you shall have tea with the princess."

"How do you know who is a princess, and who's not, if you're all Crowse, Elcy cried?" "Where do you know, one human being from another?" The crow replied, "Besides, come on to the palace." It led her along the terrace, and down some marble steps to a small arch door.

The tradesman entrance, it explained, "Excuse it, the courtyards are crowding in by the front door." Then, through long corridors and passages they went, and at last, into the throne room.

Many crowse stood about in respectful attitudes, on the golden throne, leaning a gloomy head upon the first joint of his right wing. The sovereign of Crow now-lound was amusing dejectedly. A little girl of about Elcy's age sat on the steps of the throne, nursing a handsome dog. "Who is the little girl, Elcy R?"

"Curtsy?" "That's the princess, the prime minister Crow whispered, and Elcy made the best courtesy, she could think of in such a hurry." She wasn't wicked enough to be turned into a crow, or poor enough to be turned into a pigeon, so she remains a dear little girl, just as she always was. The princess dropped her dog, and ran down the steps of the throne to meet Elcy.

"You dare," she said, "you've come to play with me, haven't you? All the little girls I used to play with have turned into crowse, and their beaks are now so awkward at Doll's Tea Parties, and the wings are no good to nurse Doll's with. "Let's have a Doll's Tea Party now, shall we?" "May we?"

"Elcy looked at the crow king, who nodded his head hopelessly, so hand in hand they went." "I wonder whether you have ever had the run of a perfectly beautiful palace and a nursery absolutely crammed with all the toys you could ever had or wanted to have. Doll's houses, Doll's Chinatay sets, rocking horses, bricks, nine pins, paint boxes, can drink on tracks, pewter diner services, and any number of Doll's, almost agreeable and distinguished.

If you have, you may perhaps be able to faintly imagine Elcy's happiness. And better than all the times was the princess Pidona, so gentle and kind and jolly, full of ideas for games and surrounded by the means for playing them. Think of it. After that bear attic, with not even a bit of a string to play with, and no company, but the poor little dead mouse.

There is no room in this story to tell you of all the games they had. I can only say that the time went by so quickly that they never noticed it going, and were amazed when the crown nurse made brought in the Royal Tea-Tray. Tea was a beautiful meal, with pink ice caked in it, now, all the time, but these glorious games had been going on, and this magnificent tea. The wisest crows of Crow nowland have been holding a council.

They had decided that there was no time like the present, and that Elcy had better try to tame the dragon soon as late. But the king said, "She mustn't run any risks. A guard of 50 stalwart crows must go with her. And if the dragon shows the least temper, 50 crows must throw themselves between her and danger, even if it costs 51 crow lives.

The eye myself will leave that band, who will volunteer." Volunteers to the number of some thousands instantly stepped forward, and the field marshall selected 50 of the strongest crow's. And then, in the pleasant pinkness of the sunset, Elcy was led out onto the palace steps, where the king made a speech and said what a heroine she was, and how like Joan of Arc, and the crow's who had gathered from all parts of the town cheered madly. Did you ever hear crow's cheering?

It is a wonderful sound. Then Elcy got into a magnificent gilt coach, drawn by eight white horses, with a crow at the head of each horse. Elcy, a princess sat with her on the blue velvet cushions, and held her hand. "I know you'll do it," said she.

"You're so brave," and clever, Elcy. An Elcy felt braver than before, although now it did not seem so like a dream. But she thought to the martyrs, and held Pidona's hand very tight. At the gates of the green park, the princess kissed and hugged her new friend.

The state crown, which she had put on in the honour of this occasion, got pushed quite on one side in the warmth of her embrace, and Elcy stepped out of the carriage. There was a great crowd of crows, round the park gates, and everyone cheered and shouted, "Speech, speech!" Elcy got as par, as ladies and gentlemen, crows, I mean. And then she could not think of anything more.

So she simply added, "Please, I'm ready." I wish she could have heard those crows cheer. But Elcy wouldn't have the escort. "It's very kind," she said.

But the dragon only eats crows, and I'm not a crow, thank goodness. I mean, I am not a crow. And if I've got to be brave, I'd like to be brave, and none of you to get eaten. If only someone will come with me to show me the way, and then run back as hard as he can, when we get near the dragon, please.

"If only one goes, I shall be the one," said the king, and he and Elcy went through the great gates side by side. He held the end of his wing, which was the nearest they could get to hand in hand. The crowd outside waited, in breathless silence. Elcy and the king went on through the winding paths of the people's park, and by the winding paths they came at last to the dragon.

He lay very peacefully on a great stone slab. His enormous, bat-like wings spread out on the grass, and his golden green scales glittering in the pretty pink sunset light. "Go back," said Elcy. "No," said the king.

"If you don't," said Elcy. "I won't go on." Seeing a crow might rouse him to fury, or give him an appetite, or something. "Do, do go."

So he went, but not far. He hid behind the tree, and from it shelter he watched. Elcy drew a long breath. Her heart was thumping under the black frock.

"Suppose," she thought. He takes me for a crow. But she thought how yellow her hair was, and decided that the dragon would be certain to notice that. "Take much," she said to herself, "remember Joan of Arc, and walk right up to the dragon."

It never moved, but watched her suspiciously out of its bright green eyes. "Tragondir," she said in her clear little voice. "Air," said the dragon, in tones of extreme astonishment. "Tragondir," she repeated.

"Do you like sugar?" "Yes," said the dragon. "Well, I brought you some. You won't hurt me if I bring it to you."

The dragon violently shook its vast head. "It's not much," said Elcy, but I saved it at T-Time, four lumps, two for each of my mugs of milk. She laid the sugar on the stone slab by the dragon's paw. It turned its head towards the sugar.

The pinky sunset light fell on its face, and Elcy saw that it was weeping. Great fat tears, as big as prize pairs were coursing down its wrinkled cheeks. "Oh, don't," said Elcy, "don't cry, poor dragon. What's the matter?"

"Oh, sub the dragon. I'm only so glad you've come. I've been so lonely. No one to love me.

You do love me, don't you?" "I'm sure I shall when I know you better," said Elcy kindly. "Give me a kiss, dear," said the dragon, sniffing. It is no joke to kiss a dragon, but Elcy did it somewhere on the hard green wrinkles of its forehead.

"Oh, thank you," said the dragon, brushing away its tears with the tip of the eye. "Oh, I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come.

I'm so glad you've come. I'm so glad you've come. And the rich and the poor went off, arm in arm to feast and be glad that night, and the next day to work side by side. Form said the king, speaking with his hand on the neck of the tame dragon.

Our land has been called Crow nowland, but we are no longer crows. We are men, and we will be just men. And our country shall be called just nowland. For ever and ever.

And for the future, we shall not be rich and poor, but fellow workers. And each will do his best for his brothers and his own city. And your king shall be your servant. I don't know how they manage this, but no one seemed to think that there would be any difficulty about it when the king mentioned it.

And when people really make up their minds to do anything. Difficulties do mostly oddly disappear. Wonderful rejoicings they were. The city was hung with flags and lamps, bands played the performers, a little out of practice, because of course, crows can't play the flute or the violin or the trombone.

But the effect was very gay indeed. Then came the time. It was quite dark. When the king rose up on his throne and spoke, an Elsie, among all her new friends, listened with them to his words.

Our deliverer Elsie, he said, was brought hither by the good magic of our chief mage and prime minister. She has removed the enchantment that held us. And the dragon, now that he has had his tea and recovered from the shock of being kindly treated, turns out to be the second strongest magician in the world. And he will help us and advise us.

So long as we remember that we are all brothers and fellow workers. And now comes the time when our Elsie must return to her own place. Or another go in her stead. But we cannot send back our heroine, our deliverer, long loud cheering.

So one she'll take a place, my daughter. The end of the sentence was lost in shouts of admiration. But Elsie stood up, small and white in her black frock and said, no thank you. Padona would simply hate it and she doesn't know my daddy.

He will fetch me away from Mrs. Stain someday. The thought of her daddy, far away in India, and the loneliness of Willow Farm, where now it would be night, in that horrible bear attic where the poor dead untamable little mouse was, nearly choke tellsy. It was so bright and light and good and kind here, and India was so far away. Her voice strayed a moment on a broken note.

"Aye," then she spoke firmly. "Thank you all so much," she said. "So very much, I do love you all, and it's lovely here, but please, I'd like to go home." The Prime Minister, in a silence full of love and understanding, folded his dark cloak around her.

It was dark in the attic, Elsie crouching alone in the blackness by the fireplace, where the dead mouse had been, put out her hand to cut its cold fur. There were wheels on the gravel outside, the knocker swung strongly, "Rap, tat, tat, tat, tat, a pause for voices, hasty feet in strong boots sounded on the stairs, the key turned in the lock. The door opened, a dazzling crack, and the light of the lamp carried by Mrs. Staines. "Come down at once.

I'm sure you're good now," she said in a great hurry, and in a new, honeyd voice. But there were other feet on the stairs, a step that Elsie knew. "Where's my girl," the voice she knew, cried cheerfully, but under the cheerfulness Elsie heard something other and dearer, "Where's my girl?" After all, it takes less than a month to come from India to the house in England, where one's heart is.

Out of the bear attic, and the darkness Elsie leapt into the light, into the arm she knew, "How, my daddy, my daddy," she cried, "How glad I am," I came back.