The Dark House

r. He could not make up his mind how to kill Edith. Nothing seemed quite bad enough. He thought of boiling her in oil or rolling her down hill in a cask full of spikes, after the manner of some fa

ause he was little, any common woman could shake and beat him and treat him as though he belonged to her. He would tell his father. Even his father, who had so far fo

he was glad he

. He was growing cold and stiff, too, in the reaction. He had stopped crying, but his teeth chattered and his sobs had degenerated into monot

and the ruins had a more than usually dejected look, as though they had suddenly lost all hope of themselves. He called again, and this time, like an earth-sprite, Frances Wi

thing out. I'll tell you all about it in a minute.

ct of making him want to cry again. That wouldn't do. She wouldn't respect him if he cried. He t

's all. My father's new wife h-hit me-and I b-b

d she h

know. She's j

ou know. Don

d been smoking, an

ou look awf

, I

good of te

tolidly. "They only get crosser than ever. She hadn

our step

remble again

ny sort of a mother

d thinking of Edith and his coming black revenge. He had done something that could never be undone. He had closed and

s like her not to enter into any argument. One couldn't tell wha

It's trickling on to your collar. No,

he Terrace had handkerchiefs, ostentatiously clean. He had seen them, and they filled his soul wi

t got one

blow your

e explained

seemed to be her way of withdrawing into herself at critical moments. When she stopped he was

tidy you up, anyhow.

d be managed without soap and water. This done, she refolded the handkerchief with its soiled side innermost, and tied it neatly round the wounded head, leaving two long ends which stood up like rabbit's ears. A gust of April wind wagged them comically, and made mock of the sorrowful, grubby face underneath. Even Frances, who was only nine herself, must have seen that the sorrow was not the ordinary childish thing that came and went, leaving no trace. In a way it was always there. When he was not laughing and shouting you saw

f these things either, crouched down b

r Ro

allowed sobs asserting themselves. He wanted to confide in her, but if she knew the truth about his home and his people she wouldn't play

well," he said. "It's comf

e explained easily, "You see

ped waving for a minut

aren't

y, in that book. It's all about first-aid. There's t

ashamed again. In his sh

a doctor-awfu

didn't you tell me? H

esn't think much of other doctors. L

If only for a moment she had looked up to him and believed in him the evil spirit that was climbing up on to his shoulders would have fle

doctor. I shall make piles of money, and have three ass-assi

d. She seemed as lovely to him as his mother. He wanted terribly to say to her, "It's my birthday, Francey, and they haven't even wished me many happy returns;" b

ock when it's almost dark. We'll wait at the corner of John Street and jump out at her and

quite white. Her mouth quivered. It was as though

aren't comi

oming? W

heir people won't let them come any more.

faster. Someone was pressing his heart so that he could hardly br

do the

're not a nic

He slashed at them through the mist that was blinding him. He

care-I do

his afternoon. I wante

ked-sometimes-as o

-I don't care

ow another. You had to be jolly strong to break

on

dn't I? You couldn'

tend again that one was just like everyone else. People drawin

ease, don'

only weeds-beast

y harm. It's a shame to

tice. I'm a soldier. I'm cu

face gleaming at him through the mist. She was whiter than ever, and her eyes had lo

sha

an'

ful breath. He grew frantic, twisting and writhing. He began to curse her as his father cursed Christine. But her slim brown wrists were like steel. A

k. He turned on his

ht with girl

re and more tired and lonely. He had lost her. He would never play with her again. The Brothers Banditti had gone each to his home. They sat by the firesid

shaking him from head to foot. It was his birthday. And at the bottom