" It was my own fault, I admit. We had talked this thing over
before going to bed, and I myself had impressed upon Veronica the
need for caution. The architect of the country cottage does not
waste space. He dispenses with landings; the bedroom door opens on
to the top stair. It does not do to walk out of your bedroom, for
the reason there is nothing outside to walk on. I had said to
Veronica, pointing out this fact to her:
"Now don't, in the morning, come bursting out of the room in your
usual volcanic style, because if you do there will be trouble. As
you perceive, there is no landing. The stairs commence at once; they
are steep, and they lead down to a brick floor. Open the door
quietly, look where you are going, and step carefully."
Dick had added his advice to mine. "I did that myself the first
morning," Dick had said. "I stepped straight out of the bedroom into
the kitchen; and I can tell you, it hurts. You be careful, young
'un. This cottage doesn't lend itself to dash."
Robina had fallen down with a tray in her hand. She said that never
should she forget the horror of that moment, when, sitting on the
kitchen floor, she had cried to Dick--her own voice sounding to her
as if it came from somewhere quite far off: "Is it broken? Tell me
the truth. Is it broken anywhere?" and Dick had replied: "Broken!
why, it's smashed to atoms. What did you expect?" Robina had asked
the question with reference to her head, while Dick had thought she
was alluding to the teapot.
Pages:
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64