Chapter 5: At the Edge of the Polar Sea

The crocuses are up on the lawn,” said Teddy’s mother, who was standing at the window and looking out. “And just hear that blackbird! I always feel as though spring were really here when I hear the blackbirds sing.”

Teddy was still in bed. It seemed to him sometimes that he had spent his whole life lying there in the India-room, under the silk counterpane, and that it was some other Teddy who used to go to school and shout and play with the boys in the street.

“I wish I could go out-of-doors the way I used to,” he said.

“So do I,” said mamma. “But never mind, darling. The doctor says it won’t be so very long now before you can be out again, and this afternoon we’ll play some nice game or other that you can play in bed. Now what would you like it to be?” But before Teddy could answer she added, “Oh dear! There comes Aunt Mariah.”

Aunt Mariah lived down at the other end of the village, and she generally came every fortnight to spend an afternoon with Teddy’s mother. She always brought her knitting in a bag, and a white net cap that she put on before the glass as soon as she had taken her bonnet off.

Teddy liked to have her come, her needles flew so fast, and she used to recite to him, —

“A was an archer, and shot at a frog;
B was a butcher, and had a great dog.”

Then when he was tired of sitting with her and mamma, he could run out-of-doors and play.

But he found it was different to-day from what it had been before. He was still weak from his illness, and after she had told him all the verses that she knew, he grew weary of hearing her talk of Cousin George’s wife, and Mrs. Appleby’s rheumatism.

His mother saw that he was growing restless and that his cheeks were flushed, so she asked Aunt Mariah to come over to her room to look at some calico she had been buying.

When they had gone Teddy lay for a time enjoying the silence of the room, but after a while it began to seem too still and the clock ticked with a strange loud sound. He wished Aunt Mariah would go away and let mamma come back again. It was so lonely, and he was tired of his books.

He was lying on his back, and presently he drew up his knees, and then over the tops of them he could only see the upper half of the window, and the tips of the pine-trees against the still blue sky outside.

“Oh dear, dear, dear!” said the Counterpane Fairy’s voice just behind the hill. “Steeper than ever to-day. Will I ever get to the top?” A minute after he saw her little figure standing on the hill, dark against the sky, and the staff in her hand like a thin black line.

“Oh, dear Counterpane Fairy!” cried Teddy, “have you come to show me another story?”

“Are you sure you want to see one?” asked the Counterpane Fairy.

“Oh, yes, yes, I do!” cried Teddy. “Your stories don’t make me feel tired the way Aunt Mariah’s do.”

The fairy shook her head. “I thought her stories were very pleasant,” she said.

“So they are,” said Teddy, “but I like her stories best when I’m all well, and I like your stories best when I’m sick. Besides I only hear her stories and I see yours.”

The fairy smiled. “Well, then, which square will you choose this time?” she said.

“I think I would like that one,” said Teddy, pointing to a square of watered ribbon that shaded from white to a sea-green.

“That’s rather a long story,” said the fairy, doubtfully.

“Oh, please show it!” begged Teddy.

“Well,” said the Fairy, “fix your eyes on it while I count.”

Then she began and he heard her voice going on and on. “FORTY-NINE!” she cried.

Teddy was floating on a block of ice across the wide, green Polar sea. The Counterpane Fairy was with him, and all around were great fields of ice and floating white bergs. The air was very still and cold, but Teddy liked it all the better for that, for now he was an ice-fairy. He was dressed from head to foot in a suit that shone and sparkled like woven frost, and in his belt was a knife as shining as an icicle. Something kept bobbing and tickling his forehead, and when he caught hold of it he found it was the end of the long cap he wore.

As they drifted along, sometimes they saw a walrus with long tusks lying on the ice, or a soft-eyed seal. Once some strange little beings that looked like dwarfs, with goggle eyes and straggling black hair, caught hold of the block of ice, and lifting themselves out of the water made faces at Teddy, but the moment they saw the Counterpane Fairy their looked changed to one of fear, and with a queer gurgling cry they dropped from the ice and were gone.

“What were those things?” asked Teddy.

“They were ice-mermen,” said the Counterpane Fairy. “Naughty, mischievous things they are. I’d like to pack them all off to the North Pole if I could.”

“Oh, look! look!” cried Teddy. “Just look at those little bears playing over there.”

They had drifted in quite near to the shore, and in among the blocks of ice three white bear cubs were playing together like fat little boys. They were climbing to the top of an ice-hillock and then sliding down again.

As soon as they saw Teddy and the Counterpane Fairy they began to call: “Oh, Father Bear! Father Bear! Just come look at these funny things floating in to shore on a block of ice.”

In a moment from behind the ice-hill came a great white father bear galloping up as fast as he could to see what the matter was. He came over toward Teddy growling, “Gur-r-r! gur-r-r-r! Who are you, coming and frightening my little bears this way?” But as soon as he saw the Counterpane Fairy he grew quite humble. “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I didn’t know it was a friend of yours.”