'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!'"
[Image...A bear without a head]
"No, I ca'n't let you out again!" he said, before the children could
speak. "The Vice-warden gave it me, he did, for letting you out last
time! So be off with you!" And, turning away from them, he began
digging frantically in the middle of a gravel-walk, singing, over and
over again, "'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing! It's waiting to
be fed!'" but in a more musical tone than the shrill screech in which
he had begun.
The music grew fuller and richer at every moment: other manly voices
joined in the refrain: and soon I heard the heavy thud that told me the
boat had touched the beach, and the harsh grating of the shingle as the
men dragged it up. I roused myself, and, after lending them a hand in
hauling up their boat, I lingered yet awhile to watch them disembark a
goodly assortment of the hard-won 'treasures of the deep.'
When at last I reached our lodgings I was tired and sleepy, and glad
enough to settle down again into the easy-chair, while Arthur
hospitably went to his cupboard, to get me out some cake and wine,
without which, he declared, he could not, as a doctor, permit my going
to bed.
And how that cupboard-door did creak! It surely could not be Arthur,
who was opening and shutting it so often, moving so restlessly about,
and muttering like the soliloquy of a tragedy-queen!
No, it was a female voice.
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