A lazy breeze stirred the late-summer air and played with the leaves of the trees along the canal that bisected the meadows and fields. It tussled the mane of the horse trailing the heavy barge filled with Black Country coal and tickled the cheek of the boatman. The breeze blew on, over sheep-dotted green, over the ruins of a castle which had once belonged to a favorite of the Virgin Queen, over an old battlefield where Roundheads and Cavaliers had met long ago; on and on it blew until it whistled around the pointy spire of a small parish church. From there it followed the slow rise of the hills and teased the branches of a grove of elm trees in the valley beyond. Here the air was filled with the chirping of birds and the humming of wild bees. The grove opened into lawns of lush green and flowerbeds blazing with color. Amidst the gardens nestled a small, stout manor house in the honeyed tones of the local sandstone. Bulky chimneys stretched heavenwards, emitted a tickle of smoke. Nearby, a lark rose jubilantly into the clear blue sky, and the breeze ruffled its feathers.

One of the chimneys twitched.

The breeze died away. The birds fell silent. Even the hum of the insects stopped.

A shudder runs through the chimney. A sliver of cobalt blue appears at its top. It stretches, widens, forks like lightening, sparks more spots of blue. They span the roof, run down the gables -- one has reached a window in the upper storey.

The backdoor slams open, Cook comes running out, and her kitchenmaids, shortly followed by the housekeeper, the upstairs maids, the footmen and the butler. He draws a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his forehead while he watches the blue spread.

Inexorably, cobalt covers the house.

Another door is flung open. Boots clatter on the front steps as a horde of boys and young men rushes out into the forecourt. The sunlight glints on their curly black hair as they crane their necks to look in dismay at the increasingly blue walls.

"Uh-oh," the youngest said and put his thumb into his mouth.

"Darn it," the eldest swore and rubbed his neck.

A petite young woman was the last to leave the house. Her golden brows puckered, her rosebud mouth pursed, she stomped down the stairs. A smudge of dirt clung to one rounded cheek, and under her arm she carried an enormous leatherbound tome.

"How bad is it?" she asked, without turning around.

Wordless, her black-haired cousins stared back at her.

She sniffed. "That bad?" She risked a look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she swung fully around. "Blast it all! How the blazes did that happen?"

"Well. It could've been worse, you know," one of the boys offered. "Just think that would've happened if Mother hadn't gone to visit Lady Grisham today!"

"Or if Father weren't out on his daily ride just now."

"Indeed, with some luck it'll have vanished until he returns home."

They all eyed the house. Blue ran down the walls like icing from the top of a cake.

"Uh-hm."

"Yes."

"Exactly."

"Just think what --"

Stone groaned.

They took a step back.

And another.

"What? What is it? Why doesn't it stop?" The young woman started to leave hectically through the book she was carrying. "That's not what was supposed to happen!"

"Uh-oh," her youngest cousin mumbled around the thumb in his mouth and pointed towards the grove.

A lone rider had appeared between the elm trees. Just then he caught sight of the blue house: abruptly, he reined in his horse, stared -- and fell out of the saddle.

The young woman visibly paled. "Oh blast, I'm in so much trouble," she whispered.

The walls shivered. The glass in the windows rattled as the house raised itself from its fundaments and, swaying gently back and fro, came to stand on two giant chicken legs.