Free Tales From Moominvalley by Tove Jansson Page B

shook with her laughter.
    'I believe she's never laughed before,' Too-ticky said wonderingly. 'You seem to have changed her, she's even worse than little My. But the main thing is that one can see her, of course.'
    'It's all thanks to Granny,' Moominmamma said.

The Secret of the Hattifatteners
    O NCE upon a time, rather long ago, it so happened that Moominpappa went away from home without the least explanation and without even himself understanding why he had to go.
    Moominmamma said afterwards that he had seemed odd for quite a time, but probably he hadn't been odder than usual. That was just one of those things one thinks up afterwards when one's bewildered and sad and wants the comfort of an explanation.
    No one was quite certain of the moment Moominpappa had left.
    Snufkin said that he had intended to row out with the hemulen to catch some alburn, but according to the hemulen Moominpappa had only sat on the verandah as usual and suddenly remarked that the weather was hot and boring and that the landing-stage needed a bit of repair. In any case Moominpappa hadn't repaired it, because it was as lop-sided as before. Also the boat was still there.
    So Moominpappa had set out on foot, and as he could have chosen several directions there was no point in looking for him.
    'He'll be back in due time,' Moominmamma said. 'That's what he used to tell me from the beginning, and he always came back, so I suppose he'll return this time too.'
    No one felt worried, and that was a good thing. They had decided never to feel worried about each other; in this way everybody was helped to a good conscience and as much freedom as possible.
    So Moominmamma started some new knitting without making any fuss, and somewhere to the west Moominpappa was wandering along with a dim idea firmly in his head.
    It had to do with a cape he once had seen on one of the family picnics. The cape had pointed straight out to sea, the sky had been yellow and a bit of wind had sprung up towards night. He had never been able to go out there to see what was on the other side. The family wanted to turn home for tea. They always wanted to go home at the wrong time. But Moominpappa had stood on the beach for a while, looking out over the water. And

    at that very moment a row of small white boats with sprit sails had come into sight under land, putting straight out to sea.
    'That's hattifatteners,' the hemulen had said, and in those words everything was expressed. A little slightingly, a little cautiously and quite clearly with repudiation. Those were the outsiders, half-dangerous, different.
    And then an overpowering longing and melancholy had gripped Moominpappa, and the only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't want any tea on the verandah. Not that evening, nor any other evening.
    This had been quite a time ago, but the picture never left him. And so one afternoon he went away.
    The day was hot, and he walked at random.
    He didn't dare to think about it, nor to feel anything, he simply went on walking towards the sunset, screwing up his eyes under the hatbrim and whistling to himself, but no special tune. There were uphills and downhills,

    the trees came wandering towards and past him, and their shadows were beginning to lengthen.
    At the moment when the sun clipped down into the sea Moominpappa came out on to the long gravel shore where no ways ever stopped and no one ever thought of going for a picnic.
    He hadn't seen it before; it was a grey and dreary beach that told him nothing except that land ended and sea started here. Moominpappa stepped down to the water and looked outward.
    And naturally - what else could indeed have happened? - at that very moment a little white boat came slowly gliding before the wind along the shore.
    'Here they are,' Moominpappa said calmly and started to wave.
    There were only three hattifatteners aboard the boat. They were quite as white as the boat and the sail. One was sitting at the helm and two with their backs to the