The Time Garden Read online

  "Aren't you coming?" said Roger to Jack.

  "Who cares?" Jack yawned. "It's just an old girls' book." But he got out of the car.

  "I don't think it's just for girls, exactly," said Roger. "I think it's sort of for everybody, more."

  The four children stood looking at the house.

  "It looks just the way I thought it would, always," breathed Ann, in reverent tones. "You can just see Meg and Jo and Beth and Amy living in it!"

  A glint appeared in the eyes of Eliza. "Why not?" she said.

  Ann looked at her, a wild surmise in her face. Her heart thumped. "Could we?"

  It was but the work of a second for Eliza to run to the car and fetch the coffee tin with the Natterjack.

  "This is crazy," said Jack. "Even if there were anything to the magic, you couldn't go back in time to them! They weren't real. They didn't ever happen."

  "They did, too," said Ann. "She wrote about herself and her sisters, just the way it was!"

  "It's real-er than anything in your old history books!" cried Eliza. "Anyway, we went back in time to Ivanhoe, didn't we, last summer?" She was struggling with the lid of the coffee tin. It came off, and the Natterjack awoke and looked out. It seemed to recognize its surroundings right away.

  "So this is what you picked," it said. "You might 'ave done worse."

  "Excuse me," said Ann, reaching under it for one of the thyme snippets. The piece that her fingers fell on turned out to be a sprig of the golden kind.

  "That's very appropriate," said Roger, learnedly. "It was the golden age of New England, just about."

  Ann rubbed the bit of thyme, and even Jack sheepishly joined the others as they leaned over to catch a sniff of its fragrance. Then they stood looking around them.

  Everything was the same and yet everything was different. Old Mrs. Whiton and the car were nowhere to be seen. It was winter. And it was snowing. (For who can think of the March family without thinking of snowballs and mittens and skating on the pond and Christmas coming any minute?)

  "Gee," said Jack. "There must be something to it, after all. I'm just in my sports shirt and cotton pants and I don't feel a bit cold."

  "That's the way with thyme-magic," said Roger. "Probably we're all in alpaca coats and beaver hats, as they see us." He gestured at two figures that were approaching along the walk.

  The snowflakes were falling so thickly that it was hard to see who the figures were. But at this moment the foremost one spoke, and after that nobody needed to be told.

  "Christopher Columbus!" said the figure. And Miss Josephine March, Jo herself, came running toward them with her lanky stride, and then stood regarding them in a gentlemanly manner, with her hands behind her back, her feet well apart and her thick chestnut hair escaping from under her cap, just as it always did. Ann and Eliza could only stare back, too moved for speech.

  "Do not prance, Jo! Don't stand with your hands behind your back, and try not to use such tomboyish slang," said the second figure, following more sedately and proving to be a pretty girl with brown hair and pink cheeks who could only be the sensible, ladylike Meg.

  Ann found her tongue at last. "Hello," she said. "YouSre Jo and Meg. I'm Ann. These are Roger and Jack and Eliza. Where are the others?"

  "Beth has a slight cold," said Meg, "and Amy is spending the week with Aunt March."

  Ann and Roger and Eliza felt relieved, on the whole. Because in the book Beth dies, and there isn't much you can do about people who die in books except hope their days were happy though numbered, and that it was worth it. As for Amy, neither Ann and Roger and Eliza nor anyone else has ever yet forgiven her for marrying Laurie in the end, when anyone could tell he was meant for Jo!

  Jo was peppering them with questions now, and not waiting for the answers. "Are you a new family just moved to Concord? We will have times! Have you met Laurie, the boy next door? You're sure to like him, for he's a capital fellow!"

  "Oh, I know!" said Ann and Eliza, adoringly.

  "Come on!" said Jo, striding toward the big stone house nearby. Ann and Roger and Eliza followed. Then they looked back. Jack wasn't coming on. He was staring at Meg, and his face was red and his eyes were taking on a glazed expression. His behavior, in short, was all too familiar.

  "Good grief!" said Eliza. "That's one thing I never thought of. That Meg. You know what she is? She's a teenage girl!"

  "It's good-bye to hope," Ann agreed. "He might just as well not be here from this moment on!"

  Jo looked where they were looking, and glowered. "Let's not take any notice," she said. "I hate sentimental nonsense, spoiling all the fun." And she strode on with her shoulders hunched and her hands in her jacket pockets.

  Laurie must have sen them from his window, for now there was a cry of "What ho?" and he came running down the steps of his house to meet them, looking just as everybody had known he would look, with his bright black eyes and his curly black hair. Roger liked him right away, and as for the girls, they had been his willing slaves since long ago.

  "What shall it be this afternoon?" he said, after everyone had been introduced. "A grand dramatic entertainment called 'The Witch's Curse,' or sledding, with apples and gingerbread to follow?"

  A short whispered colloquy ensued.

  "Shall we tell them?" said Roger.

  "Why not?" said Eliza. "Those two would be fine to have along on any adventure!"

  "Let's not," said Ann. "Let's stay here and have sledding and apples and gingerbread. I like Concord."

  But she was overruled. A second later Roger and Eliza were telling all about the thyme-magic and introducing the Natterjack, in its coffee tin. Jo and Laurie were impressed.

  "Tell me about the twentieth century," said Jo. "Is the Civil War over and the slaves freed and everything perfect?"

  "Well, maybe not quite," said Roger, "but we're getting better all the time."

  Laurie, ever less serious, brushed this aside. "Let's talk about now," he said. "Magic adventures are the one thing that's been needed to make this the best year ever! How do we begin? Do we make wishes?"

  "There are a hundred things I could wish for," sighed Jo. "The butcher's bill paid and a new parlor carpet. If I could begin selling the stories I write, I could help. Could I wish it were time for that?"

  Ann thought this would be nice, but perhaps not exciting enough for Eliza. "Anyway, all that comes later," she said. "You sell lots and lots of stories."

  "I do?" said Jo.

  "Yes," said Ann. "Only you stop writing wild romances and just tell about your life here, in this house."

  "That wouldn't make a story," said Jo.

  "It does, though," said Roger, not exactly sure at this moment whether he were addressing his remarks to Miss Josephine March or to Louisa May Alcott herself, but it didn't matter because they were the same person, really. "It makes a story that'll never be forgotten as long as there are children anywhere."

  "Christopher Columbus!" said Jo, staring into the future with wide eyes.

  "Now then, that's enough, Miss Charlotte Bronte George Eliot March!" said Laurie, his eyes twinkling. "Come down to earth and shed your genius on us! Tell us what we're going to do today! Forget duty for once, and let's be thoroughly selfish and frivolous!"

  "For goodness' sake let's!" said Eliza, jigging from one foot to the other. "Less talk, more action!"

  "Very well!" said Jo, casting sober thoughts sky-high with a grin. "We'll fly round and have larks! We'll go to the Orkney Islands! Or off with the wraggle-taggle Gypsies, 0! Or over the hills and far away!"

  "Let's make it Gypsies," said Eliza. "I'll be the beautiful Gypsy fortuneteller. A king's son will cross my palm with silver and fall in love with me! I'll..."

  But there was an interruption. A tall motherly-looking woman had appeared in the doorway of the house. Jo ran to her. Meg detached herself from the conversation of Jack and joined them.

  "Oh my girls," said the woman, "in our happiness we must not forget others less fortunate than ourselves. I
have just heard some sad news."

  "Wouldn't you know?" muttered Eliza to Ann. "She always did!"

  "Not a mile from here," continued Mrs. March, for of course it was she, "lies a poor sick woman with a young baby and neither food nor firewood, and no money to purchase either! I leave it to my dear girls to think what best to do for her."

  "I'll cut logs, Marmee!" cried Jo. "I'm as good a hand with an ax and saw as any boy in Concord."

  "There is a pound of scrag of mutton in the larder," said Meg. "I was planning to try a French ragout such as the Moffats always serve, but it will make a nourishing stew for the poor woman, and we can dine on tea and toast."

  Mrs. March rewarded her daughters with a proud smile and a quiet "Well done."

  "Oh, for goodness' sake!" said Eliza, indignantly. "It's as bad as the time they had to give up their breakfast on Christmas morning and have bread and milk instead! We can't do good deeds now; we're just starting an important adventure!"

  Mrs. March said nothing, merely folding her lips tightly and giving Eliza a long look. So of course after that Eliza had to be noble and self-sacrificing, too.

  "At least we can go by thyme-travel and not walk a mile, can't we?" she said, after Mrs. March had gone inside. "We'll get there earlier and have that much more time for nobleness!"

  And all agreed that this was only logical.

  Meg fetched the scrag of mutton from the larder and Jack offered to carry it for her and seemed not to mind the greasiness of the paper. Jo and Laurie ran for the ax and saw. Ann rubbed the sprig of golden thyme.

  The next moment they and the Natterjack found themselves in a dusty and disorderly one-room hovel. A woman, looking more lazy than ill, lolled on a rumpled bed reading a book called How He Won Her, while the baby, a lusty boy of three, sat in a corner, knocking a battered doll against the wall.

  "Who are you?" said the woman.

  "We've come to help," said Meg.

  "How nice," said the woman. "I always say the Lord will provide!" And she lay back on her pillows and watched complacently as Jo and Laurie ran for the wood lot, Roger found sticks for kindling and laid a fire on the ill-kept hearth, and Meg dealt with the scrag of mutton while Jack watched in mute admiration.

  The dry sink in the corner was crowded with dirty dishes. "Am I supposed to tackle these?" grumbled Eliza. "I didn't come back through the mists of time to do menial labors!"

  "Maybe the magic's teaching you a lesson," said Roger, from the hearth. "It did once before."

  "The nerve!" said Eliza. But she fell to nevertheless, pumping water from the well, fetching it pail by pail, and working so hard that by the time Laurie and Jo came stamping in laughing and rosy-cheeked with armfuls of logs, the dishes were in apple-pie order, and Jo pronounced Eliza "a trump" and "a brick."

  Ann meanwhile had decided to amuse the baby. But do what she would, the baby didn't seem to appreciate her efforts. When she tried playing pat-a-cake with it, it threw its doll at her. And when she began telling it a story, it hit her in the eye with an old chewed building block. Then it noticed her birthstone ring with the real garnet.

  "Pretty. Baby want," it said. And pulling the ring from Ann's finger it clutched it tightly in its own hot hand.

  "Naughty. Mustn't do," said Ann. "Give ringy back to Ann."

  "Won't," said the baby, pouting. "Nassy dirl." And it turned and ran to its mother.

  "What are you doing to my child?" demanded the woman, looking up from her book. Then her tone changed as she saw the ring. "Why, how nice!" she cried, taking it and slipping it on her own finger. "And red is my favorite color, too! Baby, say thank you to the young lady for giving it to Mama!"

  "But I didn't!" gasped Ann. "It's my present from birthday before last!"

  The woman looked hurt. "How can you talk so?" she whined. "And you with so much and us with so little! Never did I think one of you nice young ladies would turn out to be a Indian giver!"

  "I'm not! It's all a mistake!" said poor Ann, hating to hurt the woman's feelings, yet not quite trusting her, somehow. She looked round for advice, but the others were busy getting supper. Then she thought of the Natterjack, and took the lid off the coffee tin. But before she could seek its aid, a man appeared in the doorway. He was a big burly fellow with a shifty eye, and Ann didn't like the look of him.

  "Supper ready, Eupheemy?" he said, sniffing the air, through which a savory scent was beginning to steal.

  "Yes, Clarence, it is, thanks to these ministering angels as ever was," said the woman. "This young lady gave me this ring. Ain't it purty?"

  The man inspected the ring. "Semiprecious!" he said, in tones of contempt. He sniffed the air again. "Mutton stew! Not much class to the bill of fare. They might at least have brought a beefsteak! Don't look like rich young ladies at all. Poorly dressed," he added, looking at Jo's shabby poplin with the burn and the tear.

  The others were listening now, and Eliza had heard enough. "Oh, is that so?" she cried, springing forward. "Well, I think you're lucky we bother helping you at all! We may not be rich, but we're more important than you think we are!"

  "Oh?" said the man, interested. "Tell me more."

  "Well," said Eliza, forgetting all her mother had ever told her about not boasting. "Take Laurie. His grandfather's a prominent citizen."

  "You don't say!" said the man, pleased. "Rich old gentleman, I presoom? Nice big house? Stately mansion?"

  "Stone," said Eliza, "with pillars."

  "Fine. Fine," said the man. "Go on."

  "And Jo may be poor," went on the headstrong girl, though Roger was glaring at her and making signs of caution, "but she's going to be a famous author any day now!"

  "Well, well," said the man, rubbing his hands together. "'Pears we've got distinguished guests, Eupheemy! It'd be a pity if they was to get away, wouldn't it? Lock the door!"

  The woman sprang from the bed with surprising agility, turned the key, and put it in her pocket. The seven "ministering angels" turned pale, as the man's purpose became plain.

  "Now see what you've done," hissed Roger to Eliza. "You've got us kidnapped!"

  "Now, now," said the man. "No need to use ugly words. We just want you to set awhile, that's all. Rich men's sonny-boys and lady-authors ought to have friends who'd pay a pretty penny to have 'em back safe an' sound!" And he laughed unpleasantly.

  "Don't worry," said Jack rather shakily to Roger and Laurie. "It's three of us fellows against one of him. Stand close together. Form a hollow square with the girls behind us."

  But Eliza needed no defending. "You'd better watch out!" she cried to the man. "/ happen to be a pretty important sorceress, myself! From the twentieth century! I've got a magic there in that coffee tin that could smash you to atoms! Isn't that so?" she appealed to the Natterjack.

  "H'atoms!" agreed the Natterjack, from the coffee tin.

  "I don't like this, Clarence," said the woman uneasily. "They got talking beasts. They come from future parts."

  "I don't believe it," said the man. "It's ventriloquists. That ain't no beast. That's a measly old frog."

  The Natterjack was affronted. "Very well," it said, puffing itself out angrily. "Deceiving these h'innocent children and these 'eroines of fiction was one thing, but h'insulting me is the last straw! Who 'as the thyme?"

  Ann held out the golden sprig and the Natterjack looked at it. "'Ighly suitable," it said. "The time I 'ave in mind may not 'ave been pleasant for some, but it was a golden age for Natterjacks!"

  It rubbed the bit of thyme with its foot and whiffed the fragrance. Maybe because nobody else whiffed, the others remained as they were. But a startling change occurred in the vicinity of the coffee tin. The Natterjack disappeared. In its place was a fabulous beast as tall as the ceiling. Gnashing teeth filled its hideous jaws. It had claws, and talons, and a great uncoiling scaly tail that nearly filled the whole room.

  "Dragons!" cried Jo, her eyes gleaming.

  "I'll defend you!" cried Laurie, reaching for the poker. />
  "Don't," cried Ann. "It's our Natterjack! It's friendly!"

  "Friendly to some," said the Natterjack, "but to those as deserves it I can be 'orrible!" And it lowered its great horrendous head to glare at the man and woman. The woman cowered, trembling, but the man stood his ground, pale but defiant.

  "It isn't a dragon, really," Jack explained to the faltering Meg. "There's no such thing. It's a prehistoric beast. Tyrannosaurus rex, I think it's called."

  "What's in a name?" remarked the Natterjack airily, blowing puffs of smoke from its nostrils. "Some

  may call us dragons an' some may call us tyrannosauruses, but we're h'all Natterjacks h'under the skin!"

  "You've kind of dwindled down, in modern times, haven't you?" said Roger.

  "Not at all," said the Natterjack. "What we once put into brawn, we puts into brain. When you think 'ow much h'extra brain that makes left over, h'it's no wonder we're magic! H'it does feel good to get back into form again once in a while, though." It swished its tail, knocking over several chairs and a table, and breathed out more puffs of brimstone-y smelling smoke. "H'I can't manage smoke rings again yet," it added. "H'out of practice!"

  There was a pause. "Well?" said Eliza. "Aren't you going to eat them?"

  The Natterjack hesitated. "By rights I should," it said, eyeing the man and woman with distaste, "but I doubt if they'd digest, from the look of them. They'd sit 'eavy. Per'aps if they was to reform, I'd h'overlook it this once."

  "Reform, Clarence," begged the woman. "Re-form before it's too late!"

  "I won't!" said the man stubbornly. "I won't never. I'd sooner be et!"

  "Oh, very well," sighed the Natterjack. And it opened its jaws.

  But there was an interruption. "Wait!" cried Jo. "Two wrongs do not make a right, and violence never yet solved anything in this world."

  She advanced on the man and woman. With her face flushed in righteous anger and her hair escaping from its pins and coming down behind, she made a glorious sight. And even in the heat of the moment Ann noticed that Jack had stopped looking at Meg and was staring at Jo with the reddening cheek and glazing eye of utter adoration. And she remembered suddenly that Jo was a teenage girl, too!