The Dark House

they learnt to leave him alone. Somehow he knew for certain that to be left alone was the best he could expect. They would never really forgive him for being different from them

the street. He had meant to be exactly like them at all costs. It had seemed so easy, since his father was dead and Christine paid the butcher. But at once he had been found out, a ma

al he made his way with apparent indifference towards the wall. But he was not quite qu

know-I do

herwise, but his assertion that he did not say his prayers and knew nothing about God smacked of superiority. He had to be taken down. And, anyhow, a new boy was an object of curiosity and his preliminary persecution a time-honoured custom. A fight was not in their calculations-the very idea of a new boy venturing to fight beyond their imaginations. And Robert did not want to fight. He felt oddly weary and disinclined. But to him there was no other outcome possible. It was his only tradition. It bl

kid, what'

t Ston

elighted titter from the small fr

sha

in sheer incredulity. For a moment

heek, or I'll s

companions remarked, not ill-naturedly. "Can't expect him to h

e did he c

made

ers he'd never ev

ughty boy. He doesn't

ith a lady call

He hadn't cared. He had indeed felt something of the superiority which they suspected in him.

u leave Chri

s too delighte

o trespassers allowed-eh, what? young cocka

esn't

n't his

ys she

w that either. P'r'aps

ther in Kensal Green Cemetery he had known of dark things, just beyond his understanding. He had wandered in the midst of them too long not to be aware of them on the instant. And it was against Christine-who ha

entary discomfiture, caught Robert by the collar and smacked him shamefully, severely, as the outrage merited. And when justice had been satisfied, he released the culprit, and Robert, wit

old the

fry, startled out of caution, were

eep out of it-I'

as not clever, and when events ran out of their ruts he lost his head. He had made the same discovery that the Terrace boys had made long since, namely

at'll tea

the only retaliation he had breath for. His clothes were dusty and torn,

hands on his handkerchief

dn't touch him again-not wi

ey distrusted him. He was not one of them. He did not keep their laws. His wickedness was not their wickedness, his courage not their courage. He ought not to have fought a boy in the sixth form. He ought to have ta

he trailed forlornly down the street. He was still chewing meditatively at the core of his apple, and his

nehouse, yo

. He was stil

used

m make a face. I wish I could fight like that. But I'm no good at it.

waggered

the

a moment

agging me-you see, I've a rotten time-because of my hair, and about playing the

olace flowed over his battered spirit. His heart swelled till it hurt him. It opened wide to the little red-haired boy. If

ed negl

ht. I do

you're standing up for m

d be

was born like this, and my father thought

's Ro

le longer. He rubbed his arm agains

's be frien

and turned h

ht. I do

be almost home, he still wandered about the streets. He was hungry and footsore, his head and body ached, but he put off the moment when he would have to face her to the very last. He loved her, and he was not really afraid, though he knew that the sight of his torn, blood-stained clothes would rouse her to a queer unreasonable despair; but he had talked so much, so proudly and so confidently of going to school. And now, how should he tell the tale

hrinking from their encounter. But it was a man who came out of the gate towards him. For one moment an awful, reasonless terror made him half turn to run, to run headlong, never to come back; the next, he recognized the slight, jerky limp which made his form master so comically bird-like, and stood s

ted, peering th

ou, Sto

because the little man h

etting anxious about yo

and that somehow or other his companion knew it

't know this neighbourhood. Is the

t pointed eagerly. "I'l

doesn't take

t, he himself apparently deep in thought. It seemed to Robert that he had escaped, unti

ing possibly. Well, I do that myself sometimes. It's a crying business, unless you've got nerves and guts. But you've got that all right. I saw you fight that stupid b

eneath Mr. Ricardo's brief amusement a real and angry satisfaction. In the da

through their noses so that they can't move or breathe properly, and you think to yourself that that's the proper thing, and you come crying home for someone to tie you up like the rest. It's natural. It's the race instinct and has had its uses. But it's dangerous. It kills most of us. We start out with brains to use and eyes to see with and hands to make with and

was dazed with the many words, half of which, it was true, he had not understood at all. And yet they excited him. They seem

his shoulders in

aid of anything, ar

don't think s

nd prejudices who was trying to frighten you into being as big a humbug as himself. He'll never get over it. I

early,

es, sir,' 'No, sir'-and been a beastly canting hypocrite all your life. You're wonderfully lucky if you only knew it, Stonehouse. You're nearly ten, and

t overpowering, tiredness had come over him. And y

ean-isn't there

there in the half-darkness he was more than ever like some poor hobbl

symbol of cowardice, of greed and vanity, the enemy of truth and knowledge, the hot-b

en addressing a vast audience. His voice dropped

young. There are thing

you. No, there is

nd music and marching crowds that were always just round the corner. In his expansive, genial moments, so rare towards the end. D

going to be,

ctor,

hy

e Francey had said she was to be a doctor he had said he woul

nt to

up to the superstitious weakness of the mob, and replace one religion by another. They don't care what beastly misery and evil they keep alive so long as they can pull off their particular little stunts. You mustn't be like that, Stonehouse.

his tiredness was now such that he had to set his teeth to keep the tears back. At the corner th

y of them. As to the rest, you will have to compromise. So long as you know what you are doing and don't humbug yourself, there's no harm done. With the ne

kered with an impish, malicious merriment. Robert laughed

ght, Sto

night,

celess shadow, he waved. Robert waved back. A fresh rush of elation had lifted him out of his sorrowful weariness. His disgrace had been miraculously turned to a kind of secret triump