They thought to share in Ethelried's fame and splendor. But the scissors
leaped from their place and snapped so angrily in their faces that they
turned their horses and fled.
Then the scissors sprang back to their place again to guard the portal
of Ethelried, and, to this day, only those who belong to the kingdom of
loving hearts may enter the Gate of the Giant Scissors.
CHAPTER III.
BEHIND THE GREAT GATE.
That was the tale of the giant scissors as it was told to Joyce in the
pleasant fire-lighted room; but behind the great gates the true story
went on in a far different way.
Back of the Ciseaux house was a dreary field, growing drearier and
browner every moment as the twilight deepened; and across its rough
furrows a tired boy was stumbling wearily homeward. He was not more than
nine years old, but the careworn expression of his thin white face might
have belonged to a little old man of ninety. He was driving two unruly
goats towards the house. The chase they led him would have been a
laughable sight, had he not looked so small and forlorn plodding along
in his clumsy wooden shoes, and a peasant's blouse of blue cotton,
several sizes too large for his thin little body.
The anxious look in his eyes changed to one of fear as he drew nearer
the house. At the sound of a gruff voice bellowing at him from the end
of the lane, he winced as if he had been struck.
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