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Updated: June 8, 2025
"You look just like Dickie's bantam hen when she has laid an egg," said Nancy; "but I sha'n't try to guess what you're thinking about. It's sure to have something to do with that stupid museum." Ambrose meanwhile began his preparations.
Dickie's surprise entered into her voice as she said: "That's funny. I walked all the way from Swanson's and I didn't meet him." As she ceased speaking came a sharp remembrance of the two figures battling in the roadway. Could one of them have been Kenneth Gregory? She expressed her fears to McCoy. McCoy started at once for the hill. "Go back to the house, Dick," he called back.
The house was by far the finest house Dickie had ever been in, and the garden was more beautiful even than the garden at Talbot Court. But it was not only the beauty of the house and garden that made Dickie's life a new and full delight.
The day after Cosme Hilliard's spectacular passage was one of Hudson's days. The pony did not appear, but Sylvester did and came down with his prize. The lobby was crowded. Sheila threaded her way amongst the medley of tourists, paused and deliberately drew near to the desk. At sight of her Dickie's whiteness dyed itself scarlet. He rose and with an apparent effort lifted his eyes to her look.
This was bad enough. But the stairways afforded yet more afflicting experiences the descent of even the widest and shallowest flights presented matter of insuperable difficulty; while the ascent was only to be achieved by recourse to all-fours, against the ignominy of which mode of progression Dickie's soul revolted.
Leonard worked away at the table by the bed-side with interest nearly equal to the child's; and when wire and cardboard were wanting, he put aside all his dislike to facing the Stoneborough streets and tradesmen in open day, and, at Dickie's request, sallied forth in quest of the materials.
Even Dickie's hair, which wanted to curl, was sternly checked, and kept closely cropped like a boy's; it was only Cicely's that was allowed at present to do as it liked and wave about in soft little rings of gold. Pennie made her plans and thought her thoughts, and often went to bed with Ethelwyn's imaginary figure so strongly before her that she had wonderful dreams.
He was sunk downily among pillows, and over him lay a down quilt covered with blue-flowered satin. On the foot-board of the great bed was carved a shield and a great dog on it. Dickie's clothes lay, a dusty, forlorn little heap, in a stately tapestry-covered chair. And he slept, and dreamed of Mr. Beale, and the little house among the furze, and the bed with the green curtains.
"It's been done before. And and you will send me back to Hilliard and the good old world?" Dickie's artificial smile left him. He stood, white and stiff, looking down at her. He tried to speak and put his hand to his throat. "And I must leave you here," Sheila went on softly, "with my stars?"
Such thoughts less like thoughts, however, than like fiery fever fits twisted and scorched Dickie's mind as he lay there. They burnt into him wounds that for years throbbed slowly into scars. At noon the heat of his room became even more intolerable than his thoughts. His head beat with pain. He was bathed in sweat, weak and trembling.
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