Labyrinth by A. C. H. Smith Page A

knockers would prefer their doors not to be opened. She shouldn’t take it for granted that the knockers would like people to make use of them. Every either had its or. If she weighed the implications of every alternative, would she ever get to make a choice at all? When one door opens, so does another.
    She had committed herself to the second door by now, with her hands against it, so she went ahead and pushed. It didn’t budge. She pushed harder. She leaned her shoulder against the door. It was as solid as the wall it was set in. She thought of asking Ludo to help her. His gigantic bulk would surely open the door.
    But she wasn’t sure it was the right door to choose, and so, instead, she asked another question. “How do we get through?”
    “Huh?” asked the first knocker.
    The second one, with an arch smile, replied, “Knock and the door will open.”
    “Ah.” She looked at the ring she held, and went to put it back in the second knocker’s mouth.
    He made a face. “Uh-uh, I don’t want that thing back in my mouth.” And he clamped his lips tightly shut, and refused to open them even when she put the ring against his mouth.
    “Oh, come on,” Sarah said encouragingly. “I want to knock.”
    He shook his head stubbornly.
    “Hmmm,” commented the first knocker, morosely as usual. “Doesn’t want the ring back in his mouth. Can’t say as I blame him.”
    “Then,” Sarah said, putting down the ring, “I’m afraid I’ll have to bother you instead.” She walked over to the first knocker and took hold of its ring.
    “Ow! Ooh,” the first knocker protested.
    Sarah took no notice. She knocked twice upon the heavy door. It swung open.
    Cautiously, she put her head through the doorway, to see what was beyond. She heard giggles, splutters of suppressed laughter, honks and hoots. Instinctively she started to grin herself, and went farther through the doorway. She turned, waiting for Ludo to follow her. He remained in the doorway, shaking his head.
    “Come on, Ludo.”
    He shook his head again.
    “Well,” she thought, “it can’t do any harm to see where this might lead.” She would come back for Ludo if she spotted the castle.
    She was in a sunlit forest, with clumps and banks of flowers, daisy-decked hillocks, dingles and dells, shady trees all around. The laughter was infectious. Giggling, she looked hard for the creatures who were enjoying all this merriment. All she could see were the forest plants. “Who is it?” she called out, chuckling.
    From right behind her came a laughing snort. She spun around and saw a tree’s branch moving to cover a hollow in its trunk that just might have been its mouth. “It was the tree,” she declared. “Tree, wasn’t it you?”
    That sparked off a tinkle of giggles at her feet. She looked down and saw a cluster of bluebells shivering and shaking together with amusement.
    “Oh, look!” she exclaimed, falling to her knees and giggling with them. They were beside themselves with hilarity now.
    The tree above her could hold it in no longer. It exploded in a bellow of mirth. Sarah threw her head back and joined in.
    It was the signal for a general outburst. A tree stump nearby was laughing in a deep, cracked voice. Birds on a branch were hopping and cackling. Another tree was rocking. Ferns waved about, squirrels and mice peeped from their holes with tears in their eyes.
    Sarah was helpless with laughing. Catching a breath, she panted, “What are we laughing at?”
    “I don’t know!” the tree above her roared. “Ha-ha-ha-ha!”
    The whole forest shook. Even the grass on the ground was trembling.
    Sarah was feeling faint. She sat down. “Oh … please … please, I must stop.” She clutched her sides.
    In response, the laughter around her redoubled. It reached a pitch of hysterical shrillness.
    “I’ve never laughed so much in my life,” Sarah gasped, flat on her back.
    Birds convulsed with mirth fell out of the trees and hit the ground headfirst. She