CHAPTER IV: Beetee Sends in Peeta

It was Beetee trotting slowly back again and looking anxiously about as he went—as if he had lost something, and Prim heard him muttering to himself, "Duchess Johanna. Duchess Johanna. Oh my dear spectacles! Oh my capacitors and diodes! She'll get me executed, as sure as Peacekeepers are Peacekeepers. Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?"

Prim guessed in a moment that he was looking for the fan and the pair of white kid gloves, and she very good-naturedly began hunting about for them. But they were nowhere to be seen—everything seemed to have changed since her swim in the pool, and the great hall with the glass table and the little door had vanished completely.

Very soon, Beetee noticed Prim as she went hunting about and called out to her in an angry tone, "Why, Wiress, what are you doing out here? Run home this moment, and fetch me a pair of gloves and a fan. Quick, now!"

And Prim was so much frightened that she ran off at once in the direction he pointed without trying to explain the mistake he had made. "He took me for his friend or something," she said to herself as she ran. "How surprised he'll be when he finds out who I am. But I'd better take him his fan and gloves. That is, if I can find them."

As she said this, she came upon a neat little house on the door of which was a bright brass plate with the name 'B. LATIER' engraved upon it. She went in without knocking and hurried upstairs in great fear, lest she should meet the real Wiress and be turned out of the house before she had found the fan and gloves.

"How queer it seems," Prim said to herself, "to be ordered about by Beetee, not to mention, talking to mice. I suppose Buttercup will be sending me on errands next." And she began fancying the sort of thing that would happen: 'Miss Prim! Come here directly, and get ready for your walk.' 'Coming in a minute, dearie, but I've got to see that the mouse doesn't get out.'

"Only I don't think," Prim went on, "that they'd let Buttercup remain in the bunker if he began ordering people about like that."

By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of white gloves. She took up the fan and a pair of the gloves and was just going to leave the room when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the words DRINK ME, but nevertheless, she uncorked it and put it to her lips. "Whenever I eat or drink anything," she said to herself, "I know something interesting is sure to happen, so I'll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it'll make me grow large again, for really I'm quite tired of being such a tiny little thing."

It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected. Before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself, "That's quite enough; I hope I shan't grow any more. As it is, I can't get out at the door. I do wish I hadn't drunk quite so much."

Alas! It was too late to wish that. She went on growing...and growing...and very soon had to kneel down on the floor. In another minute, there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door and the other arm curled round her head. Still, she went on growing and as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself, "Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What will become of me?"

Luckily for Prim, the little magic bottle had now had its full effect, and she grew no larger. Still it was very uncomfortable, and as there seemed to be no sort of chance of her ever getting out of the room again, no wonder she felt unhappy.

It was much pleasanter at home, thought poor Prim, when one wasn't always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and friends. I almost wish I hadn't gone into that elevator, and yet...and yet...it's rather curious, you know, this sort of life. I do wonder what can have happened to me. When I used to read fairy-tales, I fancied that kind of thing never happened, and now here I am in the middle of one. There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought. And when I grow up, I'll write one. "But I'm grown up now," she added in a sorrowful tone. "At least there's no room to grow up any more here."

But then, thought Prim, shall I never get any older than I am now? That'll be a comfort; one-way, never to be an old woman, but then, always to have lessons to learn. Oh, I shouldn't like 'that'.

"Oh, you foolish Prim," she answered herself. "How can you learn lessons in here? Why, there's hardly room for you, and no room at all for any lesson-books."

And so she went on, taking first one side and then the other, and making quite a conversation of it altogether; but after a few minutes, she heard a voice outside and stopped to listen.

"Wiress! Wiress!" said the voice. "Fetch me my gloves this moment. Then came a little stomping of feet on the stairs.

Prim knew it was Beetee coming to look for her, and she trembled till she shook the house, quite forgetting that she was now about a thousand times as large as Beetee and had no reason to be afraid of him.

Presently, Beetee came up to the door and tried to open it; but, as the door opened inwards, and Prim's elbow was pressed hard against it, that attempt proved a failure. The perturbed man said to himself, "Then I'll go round and get in at the window."

That you won't, thought Prim. And after waiting till she fancied she heard Beetee just under the window, she suddenly spread out her hand and made a snatch in the air. She did not get hold of anything, but she heard a shriek and a fall, and a crash of broken glass, from which she concluded that it was just possible he had fallen into a cucumber-frame, or something of the sort.

Next came an angry voice, Beetee's. "Gale! Gale! Where are you?"

And then a more familiar voice, Gale's. "Sure then I'm here. Digging for apples, boss"

"Digging for apples, indeed," said Beetee angrily. "Here, come and help me out of this." (Sounds of more broken glass.) "Now tell me, Gale; what's that in the window?"

"Sure, it's an arm, boss." (He pronounced it 'arrum.')

"An arm, you goose. Who ever saw one that size? Why, it fills the whole window."

"Sure, it does, boss, but it's an arm for all that."

"Well, it's got no business there, at any rate. Go and take it away."

There was a long silence after this, and Prim could only hear whispers now and then; such as, "Sure, I don't like it, boss, at all, at all." "Do as I tell you, you coward." and at last she spread out her hand again, and made another snatch in the air. This time there were two little shrieks, and more sounds of broken glass. What a number of cucumber-frames there must be, thought Prim. I wonder what they'll do next. As for pulling me out of the window, I only wish they could. I'm sure I don't want to stay in here any longer.

She waited for some time without hearing anything more. At last came a rumbling of little cartwheels and the sound of a good many voices all talking together. She made out the words:

"Where's the other ladder?"

"Why, I hadn't to bring but one. Peeta's got the other."

"Peeta! Fetch it here, lad. Here, put 'em up at this corner. No, tie 'em together first; they don't reach half high enough yet. Oh, they'll do well enough; don't be particular."

"Here, Peeta, catch hold of this rope."

"Will the roof bear?"

"Mind that loose slate."

"Oh, it's coming down. Heads below!" (A loud crash)

"Now, who did that?"

"It was Peeta, I fancy."

"Who's to go down the chimney?"

"Nay, I shan't!"

"You do it."

"That I won't, then."

"Peeta's to go down."

"Here, Peeta, Beetee says you're to go down the chimney."

"Oh, so Peeta's got to come down the chimney, has he?" said Prim to herself. "Shy, they seem to put everything upon Peeta! I wouldn't be in Peeta's place for a good deal. This fireplace is narrow, to be sure; but I think I can kick a little."

She drew her foot as far down the chimney as she could and waited till she heard a sort of scratching and scrambling about in the chimney close above her. Then, saying to herself "This is Peeta," she gave one sharp kick and waited to see what would happen next.

The first thing she heard was a general chorus of "There goes Peeta!" then Beetee voice along, "Catch him, you by the hedge!"

Then silence, and then another confusion of voices:

"Hold up his head."

"Brandy now."

"Don't choke him."

"How was it, old fellow?"

"What happened to you?"

"Tell us all about it."

Last came a little feeble, squeaking voice, (That's Peeta, thought Prim) "Well, I hardly know. No more, thank ye; I'm better now, but I'm a deal too flustered to tell you. All I know is something comes at me like a Jack-in-the-box and up I goes like a sky-rocket."

"So you did, old fellow," said the others.

"We must burn the house down," said Beetee's voice.

And Prim called out as loud as she could, "If you do. I'll set Buttercup at you!"

There was a dead silence instantly, and Prim thought to herself, I wonder what they will do next. If they had any sense, they'd take the roof off.

After a minute or two, they began moving about again, Beetee said, "A barrowful will do, to begin with."

A barrowful of 'what'? thought Prim, but she had not long to doubt, for the next moment, a shower of little pebbles came rattling in at the window, and some of them hit her in the face. "I'll put a stop to this," she said to herself, and shouted out, "You'd better not do that again!" which produced another dead silence.

Prim noticed with some surprise that the pebbles were all turning into little cakes as they lay on the floor, and a bright idea came into her head. If I eat one of these cakes, she thought, it's sure to make some change in my size; and as it can't possibly make me larger, it must make me smaller, I suppose.

So she swallowed one of the cakes and was delighted to find that she began shrinking directly. As soon as she was small enough to get through the door, she ran out of the house and found quite a crowd of animals and little people waiting outside. The poor little baker, Peeta, was in the middle, being held up by two Avoxes who were giving him something out of a bottle. They all made a rush at Prim the moment she appeared, but she ran off as hard as she could and soon found herself safe in a thick wood.

"The first thing I've got to do," said Prim to herself, as she wandered about in the wood, "is to grow to my right size again; and the second thing is to find my way into that lovely garden. I think that will be the best plan."

It sounded an excellent plan, no doubt, and very neatly and simply arranged; the only difficulty was that she had not the smallest idea how to set about it. And while she was peering about anxiously among the trees, a little sharp bark just over her head made her look up in a great hurry.

An enormous puppy was looking down at her with large round eyes, and feebly stretching out one paw, trying to touch her.

"Poor little thing," said Prim in a coaxing tone, and she tried hard to whistle to it; however, she was terribly frightened all the time at the thought that it might be hungry; in which case, it would be very likely to eat her up in spite of all her coaxing.

Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick and held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once with a yelp of delight and rushed at the stick—and made believe to worry it. Then Prim dodged behind a great thistle to keep herself from being run over, and the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it. Then Prim, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again. Then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, barking hoarsely all the while till at last, it sat down a good way off, panting with its tongue hanging out of its mouth and its great eyes half shut.

This seemed to Prim a good opportunity for making her escape, so she set off at once and ran till she was quite tired and out of breath, and till the puppy's bark sounded quite faint in the distance.

"And yet what a dear little puppy it was," said Prim as she leant against a spearwort plant to rest herself, fanning herself with one of the leaves. "I should have liked teaching it tricks very much, if...if I'd only been the right size to do it. Oh dear, I'd nearly forgotten that I've got to grow up again. Let me see, how is it to be managed? I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other, but the great question is, what?"

The great question certainly was what? Prim looked all round her at the flowers and the blades of grass, but she did not see anything that looked like the right thing to eat or drink under the circumstances. There was a large mushroom growing near her, about the same height as herself, and when she had looked under it, and on both sides of it, and behind it, it occurred to her that she might as well look and see what was on the top of it.

She stretched herself up on tiptoe, and peeped over the edge of the mushroom, and her eyes immediately met those of a large caterpillar, with somewhat a familiar human face, that was sitting on the top with its arms folded, quietly smoking a long hookah and taking not the smallest notice of her or of anything else.