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Updated: June 8, 2025
As the tongues met, Gwendolyn saw small bright splinters fly this way and that a shower of them! These splinters darted downward, falling upon the road. And each, as it lit, was an h! The Policeman was frightened. "Which is your best foot?" he called. The King's English indicated his right. "This!" "Then put it forward!" "My goodness!" exclaimed Gwendolyn.
This last was said with much vindictiveness. Following it, she proffered Thomas the cake-plate. "Thanks," said he; "I don't mind if I do have a slice." Now, of a sudden, wrath and resentment possessed Gwendolyn, sweeping her like a wave at seeing her cake portioned out; at having her kicking ignored; at hearing these two openly abuse Jane.
"And the bumpy forehead is from having to remember so many things." She heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, I think I'd like that Bird," she said. "And I don't believe he's far. 'Cause when you whistled I heard flying." "Running and flying," corrected the Policeman; " running and flying to me." "Oh?" murmured Gwendolyn. "You protect 'em?"
She heard the rustle of silk skirts from the direction of the school-room. Hastily she shook out the embroidered handkerchief and put it against her eyes. A door opened. "There will be no lessons this afternoon, Gwendolyn." It was Miss Royle's voice. Gwendolyn did not speak.
Oh, how one terrible thing followed another! Gwendolyn felt utterly cast down. And the ride in the swift-flying car only increased her dejection. For she did not even have the entertainment afforded by Thomas's enlivening company. He stayed beside the chauffeur as he had, indeed, ever since the memorable feast of peanuts and avoided turning his haughty black head. Jane was morose.
The farther side of the river was walled like the walk, only the wall was a cliff, sheer and dark and timber-edged. And through this timber could be seen the roofs and chimneys of distant houses. But Gwendolyn saw nothing of the beauty of the view.
Now, as if she had overheard, or guessed a plot, sudden uneasiness showed on both her countenances, and she increased her speed. "You done up Thomas, the lot of you," she charged, as she whirled away. "But you don't git me." "And we won't," declared Gwendolyn, "if we don't hurry up and trip her." "A good idear!" chimed in the Piper. "If we only had some string!" cried the little old gentleman.
For now the more the nurse laughed the easier it would be to get her along. "Oh, dear!" sighed Gwendolyn, with a sad shake of her yellow head as Jane came trundling up, both fat arms folded to keep them out of the way. "If she stopped dancin' where would I come in?" demanded the Piper, resentfully. The pig moved in the poke. He trounced the poor thing irritably.
It was not unlike a hand-organ. Which made Gwendolyn wonder if he was not the Man-Who-Makes-Faces' brother. She glanced back inquiringly at the little old gentleman. Either the stranger was a relation and not a popular one or else the quacking expressions annoyed. For the Man-Who-Makes-Faces was scowling. And, "Cavil, criticism, correction!" he scolded, half to himself.
It was acceptance. Gwendolyn stepped back the pink muslin in a nervous grasp at either side. "Oh, won't you stay?" she half-whispered. "Mother'll see you at dinnertime, darling. Tell Jane, Miss Royle." A bow. Louise led the way quickly, followed by the elderly lady. Gwendolyn's mother came last. A bronze gate slid between the three and Gwendolyn, watching them go.
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