“I was watching you as you came along the road,” she said presently, “and you had your head down and your hands in your pockets, and you weren't throwing stones at anything, or whistling, or jumping over things; and I thought perhaps you'd bin scolded, or got a stomach-ache.”
“No,” I answered shyly, “it wasn't that. Fact is, I was--I often--but it's a secret.”
There I made an error in tactics. That enkindling word set her dancing round me, half beseeching, half imperious. “Oh, do tell it me!” she cried. “You must! I'll never tell anyone else at all, I vow and declare I won't!”
Her small frame wriggled with emotion, and with imploring eyes she jigged impatiently just in front of me. Her hair was tumbled bewitchingly on her shoulders, and even the loss of a front tooth--a loss incidental to her age--seemed but to add a piquancy to her face.
“You won't care to hear about it,” I said, wavering. “Besides, I can't explain exactly. I think I won't tell you.” But all the time I knew I should have to.
“But I DO care,” she wailed plaintively. “I didn't think you'd be so unkind!”
This would never do. That little downward tug at either corner of the mouth--I knew the symptom only too well!
“It's like this,” I began stammeringly. “This bit of road here--up as far as that corner--you know it's a horrid dull bit of road. I'm always having to go up and down it, and I know it so well, and I'm so sick of it. So whenever I get to that corner, I just--well, I go right off to another place!”
“What sort of a place?” she asked, looking round her gravely.
“Of course it's just a place I imagine,” I went on hurriedly and rather shamefacedly: “but it's an awfully nice place--the nicest place you ever saw. And I always go off there in church, or during joggraphy lessons.”
“I'm sure it's not nicer than my home,” she cried patriotically. “Oh, you ought to see my home--it's lovely! We've got--”
“Yes it is, ever so much nicer,” I interrupted. “I mean”--I went on apologetically--“of course I know your home's beautiful and all that. But this MUST be nicer, 'cos if you want anything at all, you've only GOT to want it, and you can have it!”
“That sounds jolly,” she murmured. “Tell me more about it, please. Tell me how you get there, first.”