“Glow worms,” Parrot explained. “H.H. gave them the entire roof, on condition that they lit the corridors. Of course, the main living areas are lit by mushrooms.”
“Mushrooms?” asked Peter.
“Yes, luminous mushrooms—give a very good light,” said Parrot.
Now they were deep in the Caves, and the crystal bubbles appeared to be getting larger and larger. Presently, through the many layers of transparent crystal ahead of them, they could see a strong, white glow.
“Nearly there,” muttered Parrot, “nearly there. I bet poor H.H. is at his wits’ end about me. We’ll soon solve the problem, now we’re here.”
They rounded a corner and came into a huge, oval crystal room, lit by bunches of white, phosphorescent mushrooms hung upside down from the ceiling. It had two semicircular alcoves leading off it. In the main room there was a long table, a number of high-back chairs in silver-colored wood, and several low couches covered with brightly colored cushions. In one of the semicircular alcoves was a huge kitchen range with various pots and pans bubbling on it, and above it hung what looked like hams and sausages and strings of onions. In the next alcove was a laboratory—bunsen burners, retorts, test tubes, pestles and mortars, and innumerable bottles of various-colored herbs and salts.
Standing with his back to them, and holding a bow and arrow that was bigger than he, stood a short, fat figure in black and gold robes, with a gold and black pointed hat on his head.
“Avast,” cried this apparition, shaking the bow and arrow in the most unprofessional way. “Avast! One more step and I’ll put an arrow through your gizzard, you foul and disobedient Cockatrices.”
“Oh, dear,” said Parrot. “He’s lost his glasses again.”
“Avast! One step nearer and I’ll shoot to kill,” said H.H., waving his bow about.
“H.H.!” shouted Parrot. “It’s me, Parrot.”
Hearing Parrot’s voice behind him, H.H. wheeled round and his hat fell off. The children had thought that magicians were all tall and lanky, and gray like herons, but H.H. had a jolly round face, a long white beard to his waist, and long white hair through which the top of his bald head peeped like a pink mushroom.
“Foul Cockatrice,” cried H.H., glaring round wildly. “How dare you pretend to be Parrot? Do you think that I’d be deceived by such an impertinent imitation?”
“Oh, dear,” said Parrot. “I do wish he’d put his glasses where he could find them, or better still not take them off.” So saying, he flew down the room and landed on H.H.’s shoulder. “H.H., it’s me, really me, Parrot. I’ve come back,” said Parrot in H.H.’s ear.
“Parrot, Parrot, is that really you?" asked H.H. in a quavering voice, and he put up a fat, trembling hand to stroke Parrot’s plumage.
“Indeed it is,” said Parrot.
“Oh, Parrot, I am pleased you’re back,” said H.H.
“And I’m glad to be back,” said Parrot.
“Well now, well now,” said H.H. at last, blowing his nose vigorously and bumping into a chair. “Where have you been, Parrot? I’ve been looking all over for you. I felt sure that those abominable Cockatrices had burnt you up.”
“It was those Toads,” said Parrot. “They leapt on us in the night, turned me and Dulcibelle into a vulgar brown paper parcel, and pushed us into the river.”
“The impertinence of it, the impertinence of it,” said H.H., starting to pace up and down, his face growing red with anger. He was so agitated that he walked into the crystal wall and fell down. Peter and Simon helped him to his feet.
“Thank you, thank you, too kind,” murmured H.H. “Then what happened, Parrot?”
“Well,” said Parrot, “we were washed up on a beach in the outside world and were found by these kind children.”
“What children?” asked H.H., peering round.
“The ones standing next to you,” said Parrot patiently.
“Deary me, are those children?” asked H.H. “I thought they were chairs. How do you do, children?” He waved a friendly hand to some nearby chairs.
“The sooner I find your glasses for you, the better,” observed Parrot. “Anyway, if it had not been for the courage and helpfulness of these children, I should not be here.”
“Then I’m deeply in your debt,” said H.H., trying to shake hands with a chair. “Very deeply in your debt.”
“Now, before we go any further,” said Parrot, “let me find your glasses. Where did you leave them? Where did you have them last?”
“I’m not altogether sure,” said H.H. helplessly. “First there was this Cockatrice business, and I lost the first pair. Then I had Tabitha on my hands in a most hysterical state, I must say, and I lost the second pair; and I’ve forgotten where I put the spare pair that I wear when I lose the other two pairs.”
“Well, stand still until I come back here,” said Parrot, “or you’ll only hurt yourself.” He flew off down the room and started searching in various places.
“Would you like to sit down, Mr. Junketberry?” asked Penelope, laying her hand on H.H.’s arm. “There’s a couch just behind you.”
“Oh, er . . . yes, thank you,” said H.H. “But please call me H.H. Everyone does.”
“Thank you,” said Penelope, helping him to sit down on the couch.
“Are you a girl child?” inquired H.H., peering up at her.
“Yes,” said Penelope, smiling. “I’m Penelope and these are my cousins, Peter and Simon.”
“How de do, how de do,” said H.H., bobbing his head in the general direction of Peter and Simon. “I was thinking that if you’re a girl child, perhaps you could go to soothe Tabitha. You know , as one woman to another?”
“I haven’t any experience in soothing Dragons,” said Penelope in alarm. “I’m not at all sure that I’d be awfully good at it, you know.”
“I’m sure you would,” said H.H., beaming at her. “You have such a kind voice. How generous of you to offer. I’ll take you to her as soon as I get my glasses.”
At that moment Parrot swooped back with a pair of glasses in his beak. “Here,” he said, giving them to H.H. “They were in the jar of moon-carrot jam. What were they doing there?”
“Ah, yes,” said H.H. pleasedly, putting them on. “I remember putting them in there, because it was the most unlikely place to put glasses, and so I was sure to remember where they were.”
Parrot sighed the long-suffering sigh of one who had had this sort of problem before.
“Why, what nice children you are,” said H.H., beaming at them. “The boys so handsome and the girl so pretty. My, my, and one of each color, which is so useful because then one can tell you apart—which is such a help when one loses one’s glasses. Let me see, I must memorize: Penelope, copper-colored hair; Peter is the one with black curls, yes; and Simon must be the one with blond hair. Yes, yes, I’m sure I shall remember that in a week or two.”
“Never mind about that now,” said Parrot. “Tell us what’s been happening here.”
“Well,” said H.H., chuckling, “the Cockatrices appeared to be running into a little trouble. They got the right spell for the eggs, of course, which is worrying, but now they’ve got the Spell Book they’ve started getting ambitious. But you know how inefficient they always were. Well, they got the spells all muddled up, and before they knew where they were they turned two sentries into a bunch of moon-carrots and a small cork tree that had been struck by lightning.”
“Har! har! har!” laughed Parrot, slapping his thigh with his wing. “That’s the stuff—what happened then?”
“Well, they came up here and tried to force me to go down and work the spells for them,” said H.H. indignantly. “So I retreated in here and they were afraid to follow.”