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Updated: June 8, 2025
His club bumped the side of his head at every stride of his long blue-clad arms. His identification was complete. For precisely as Thomas had declared, he was heels over head. "My!" breathed Gwendolyn, so astonished that she almost forgot to be anxious for her own safety. The Man-Who-Makes-Faces addressed her, smiling down.
Then, making scared eyes, "What has that got to do," she demanded, "with the wicked men that keep watch of this house?" Gwendolyn swallowed. "What wicked men?" she questioned apprehensively. "Ah-ha!" triumphed Jane. "I thought that'd catch you! Now just let me ask you another question: Why are there bars on the basement windows?" Gwendolyn's lips parted to reply. But no words came.
Attendez-vous!" Miss Brown followed Mademoiselle Du Bois, the one coming upon the heels of the other; so that a loud crescendo from the nursery, announcing the arrival of the music-teacher, drowned the last paragraph of French. To Gwendolyn an interruption at any time was welcome. This day it was doubly so. She had learned nothing from Mademoiselle.
"Well, you look out or I'll git one on the 'phone. And you'll be sorry the rest of your life.... Take the chicken away, Thomas. "A bit of cold fowl don't go so bad," said Thomas, reassuringly. And to Gwendolyn, "Here's more of the potatoes souffles, Miss Gwendolyn, very tasty and fillin'." Gwendolyn put up a hand and pushed the proffered dish aside. "Now, no temper," warned Jane, rising.
And now your dinner's ready. So eat it, without any more clackin'." Gwendolyn climbed upon the plump rounding seat of a white-and-gold chair. Jane settled down nearby, choosing an upholstered arm-chair spacious, comfort-giving. She lolled in it, at ease but watchful. "You can't think how that old butler spies on me," said Thomas, addressing her. "He seen the tray when I put it on the dumb-waiter.
"Well, you see, a bee er makes honey," he began lamely. The figure had turned a corner of the Barn. Now, on the farther side of the great structure, it was flitting past the openings. Gwendolyn rested a hand on the wing of the Bird. "Won't you eat it?" she questioned. The Bird wagged his bumpy head. "It's against all the laws of this Land," he declared. "But this is a society bee."
And its black length took on a scaly look, glittering in that pink glow as if it were covered with small ebon paillettes. It grew cold and clammy. At its thicker end Gwendolyn saw that the Piper was supporting a head a head with small, fiery eyes and a tongue flame-like in its color and swift darting. Next, "Hiss-s-s-s-s!"
"When I promised Aunt Elizabeth to look after you, I didn't know that meant I would have to risk my head by sleeping under 'Lady Gwendolyn' in two volumes and fat ones at that" Libbie had the grace to blush.
Jane edged away, head on one side "Oh, I was jokin' you," she declared lightly. But accidentally she turned aside her grinning front face and gave the others a glimpse of the back one. And each noted how the square mouth was trembling with anxiety. "Ah-ha!" exclaimed Gwendolyn, triumphantly. "I'm finding you out!"
And as she bent forward to puff at each tiny one, Jane held her bright hair back, for fear that a strand might get too near a flame. "Oh, Jane," cried Gwendolyn, "when I blow like that, where do all the little lights go?" "Did you ever hear such a question?" exclaimed Jane, appealing to Thomas. He was cutting away at the cake. "Of course, Miss, you'd like me to have a bite of this," he said.
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