Well...Ms. Nesbit hits it out of the park again for me with this one, with an especially wonderful thrill at her literary references. It was rather fun to pick up a sense of her political leanings with those literary characters that she chose to identify as evil. I would dearly love to see a battle fought with Boadicea, Jeanne, and Torfrida leading a group of Amazons against the "bad guys" in literature. This was so much fun! Oh, and there are a family of delightfully real children and mermaids involved as well!
The quotes I simply must have recorded for further reference:
The parents of Mavis, Francis, Kathleen and Bernard were extremely sensible people. If they had not been, this story could never have happened. They were as jolly as any father and mother you ever met, but they were not always fussing and worrying about their children, and they understood perfectly well that children do not care to be absolutely always under the parental eye. So that, while there were plenty of good times in which the whole family took part, there were also times when Father and Mother went off together and enjoyed themselves in their own grown-up way, while the children enjoyed themselves in theirs.
I am sorry that the first thing you should hear about the children should be that they do not care about their Aunt Enid, but this was unfortunately the case. And if you think this was not nice of them I can only remind you that you do not know their Aunt Enid.
"That's just what I'm saying, isn't it? We've always felt there was magic right enough, haven't we? Well, now we've come across it, don't let's be silly and pretend. Let's believe in it as hard as ever we can. Mavis - shall we, eh? Believing in things makes them stronger. Aunt Dorothea said that too - you remember."
Don't you sometimes wonder who is to blame for all the uglification of places that might be so pretty, and wish you could have a word with them and ask them not to? Perhaps when these people were little nobody told them how wrong it is to throw orange peel about, and the bits of paper off chocolate, and the paper bag which once concealed your bun. And it is a dreadful fact that the children who throw these things about are little uglifiers, and they grow up to be perfect monsters of uglification.
Any really great adventure like the rescuing of a Mermaid does always look so very much more serious when you carry it out, at night, than it did when you were planning it in the daytime. Also, though they knew they were not doing anything wrong, they had an uncomfortable feeling that Mother and Daddy might not agree with them on that point. And of course they could not ask leave to go and rescue a Mermaid, with a chariot, at dead of night. It is not the sort of thing you can ask leave to do, somehow. And the more you explained your reasons the less grown-up people would think you fit to conduct such an expedition.
"I am so sorry I was so ungrateful the other night. I'll tell you how it was. It's in your air. You see, coming out of the water we're very susceptible to aerial influences - and that sort of ungratefulness and snobbishness is most frightfully infectious, and your air's absolutely crammed with the germs of it. That's why I was so horrid. And I was so selfish, too - oh, horrid. But it's all washed off now, in the nice clean sea, and I'm as sorry as if it had been my fault, which it really and truly wasn't."
"This is the Cave of Learning, you know, very dark at the beginning and getting lighter and lighter as you get nearer to the golden door. All these rocks are made of books really, and they exude learning from every crack. We cover them up with anemones and seaweed and pretty things as well as we can, but the learning will leak out. Let us go through the gate or you'll all be talking Sanskrit before we know where we are."
"We have to be careful, you know," she said, "because of the people in the books. They are always trying to get out of the books that the cave is made of; and some of them are very undesirable characters. There's a Mrs. Fairchild - we've had a great deal of trouble with her, and a person called Mrs. Markham who makes everybody miserable, and a lot of people who think they are being funny when they aren't - dreadful."
Boadicea carried Mrs. Markham and her brown silk under one bare, braceleted arm as though she had been a naughty child. Joan of Arc made herself responsible for Aunt Fortune, and the Queen of the Amazons made nothing of picking up Mrs. Murdstone, beads and all, and carrying her in her arms like a baby. Torfrida's was the hardest task. She had, from the beginning, singled out Alftruda, her old and bitter enemy, and the fight between them was a fierce one, though it was but a battle of looks. Yet before long the fire in Torfrida's great dark eyes seemed to scorch her adversary, she shrank before it, and shrank and shrank till at last she turned and crept back to her book and went in of her own accord, and Torrid shut the door.