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Updated: June 5, 2025
By the light that came from the stairs as she opened the hall-door, she noticed that he looked troubled, and an impulse rose in her to throw her arms round his neck and say: "Yes, yes, it was me. Oh, Morry, I am so happy!" But she remembered the reasons for secrecy that had been imposed on her, and, at the same time, felt somewhat defiantly inclined towards Maurice.
Barnes' eyes narrowed. "Whatever they are," he said, "they meant a couple of thousand a year to Morry, and they were worth his life to somebody! How do you account for that, eh?" "You want the truth?" Wrayson asked. "Yes!" "Your brother was a blackmailer!" The breath came through Barnes' teeth with a little hiss. He realized his position almost at once. He was trapped.
Morry spelled it through again, searching for light. But it was a very dark word. Rec-om-pense, if it meant anything money-y, then they'd made a mistake, for of course you don't spell "pence" with an "s." The dictionary was across the room, and you had to stand up to look up things in it, Morry wished it was not so far away and that you could do it sitting down.
It was, of course, Morry put it that way because "of course" sometimes comforts you, of course just possible that Jolly's step-one might be different. Ellen might know of there being another kind. So, under the skilful, gentle hands, the boy looked up and chanced it. "Ellen," he said "Ellen, are they all that kind, all of 'em? Jolly's kind, I mean? I thought poss'bly you might know one"
It was a puzzly word, Rec-om-pense, but he thought he understood it now. It meant something that made up to you for something you'd suffered, "suffered," that was what it said. And Morry had suffered oh, how! Could it be possible there was anything that would make up for little, limp, sorrowful legs that had never been?
With that wish, which was a very Big One indeed, came trooping back all Morry's Troubles. They stood round his easy-chair and pressed up close against him. He hugged the most intimate ones to his little, thin breast. It was getting twilight in the great, beautiful room, and twilight was trouble-time. Morry had found that out long ago.
"Morry, you mustn't tell tales on me," she whispered; and added pettishly: "Why ever did you just come to-night?" He tried to see her face. "What is it all about, Ephie?" he asked. "Then it WAS you, I saw, in the NONNE by the weir?" "Me? In the NONNE!" She was genuinely surprised. "You saw me?" He nodded.
"We'll tree him," he said, cheerily, "but I think I could do it easier if I whistled" "Whistle," Morry said. With more directions, more hard breathing, more wetting of lips and tireless trailing of small, blunt finger, and then eureka! there you were! But eureka was not what Jolly said. "Bully for us!" he shouted. He felt thrilly with pride of conquest. "It's easy enough finding things.
"Oh," sighed Morry, "how I'd like to know what equi-valent means!" but he did not ask the other to look it up. He sank back on his pillows and reasoned things out for himself the best way he could. "To make amends" he felt sure meant to make up. To make up for something given or suffered, perhaps that was what a Rec-om-pense was. For something given or suffered like legs, maybe?
But it would only be Dadsy and a step-one, Jolly's kind, most likely. Jolly's kind was pretty, she might be pretty. But she would not come smiling and creeping out of the dark with a halo over her head. That kind came in dreams. Jolly's whistle was comforting to hear. Morry leaned out of his cushions to wave his hand. Jolly was going to school; when he came whistling back, she would be here.
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