"Why, what's the matter, dear?" she asked in surprise. "Don't you like it after all?"
He cast one furtive, abashed look at her as he sidled towards the door. There was confession in that look, and penitence and a sturdy resolve to make what atonement he could. Then from the hall he called back the rather enigmatical answer, "I haven't _got_ 'em on, but I'm going to _put_ 'em on!" And the "rabbit dravy" waited while he clattered up the stairs to wriggle out of his suit and into the flannels, which Benjy's jeers had made him discard just before supper, for the third time that day.
IN the story it was six long years before the Princess Ina completed her task, but less than a week went by before Libby was convinced that the charm was a potent one, and that Miss Santa Claus had spoken truly. But there was one thing she could not understand. In the story, one found the star-flowers only among nettles and briars, and gathered them to the accompaniment of scratches and stings. Yet she was finding it not only a pleasure to obey this new authority but a tingling happiness to do anything for her which would call forth some smile of approval or a caress.
Still, she saw that the story way was the true way in Will'm's case, for so many things that he was told to do, made him feel all "cross and scratchy and hot." They interfered with his play or clashed with the ideas he imbibed from Benjy. Some of Benjy's ideas were as "catching" and distorting as the mumps.
The conductor's punch did not long continue to be the daily reminder to Will'm that Libby's ring was to her, for it mysteriously disappeared one day, and was lost for months. It disappeared the very day that a row of little star-shaped holes was found along the edge of the expensive Holland window-shade in the front window of the parlor. Benjy had suggested punching them. He wanted a lot of little stars to paste all over their shoes. Why he wanted them nobody but he could understand.
But the punch served its purpose, for the Holland shade was not taken down on account of the holes, and whenever the row of little stars met Molly Branfield's eyes, they reminded her of the day when Libby threw herself into her arms, calling her "Mother" for the first time, and sobbing out the story of Ina and the swans. Distressed by Will'm's wickedness, Libby begged her not to stop loving him even if he did keep on being naughty, and to try the charm on him which would change him into a real little son. Many a time in the months which followed, the row of little holes brought a smile of tolerant tenderness, when she was puzzling over ways to deal with the stubbornness of the small boy who resented her authority. She knew that it was not because he was bad that he resented it, but because, as Libby suggested, he had "started out wrong in his hooking-up." Many a time Libby was moved to say mournfully, "Oh, if he'd just remembered what Miss Santa Claus told him, this never would have happened!"