"I told you not to, and now I tell you that you may," came the voice from
the rain-water tank, rather impatiently.
"Your voice doesn't sound like aunt's," objected Nicholas; "you may be
the Evil One tempting me to be disobedient. Aunt often tells me that the
Evil One tempts me and that I always yield. This time I'm not going to
yield."
"Don't talk nonsense," said the prisoner in the tank; "go and fetch the
ladder."
"Will there be strawberry jam for tea?" asked Nicholas innocently.
"Certainly there will be," said the aunt, privately resolving that
Nicholas should have none of it.
"Now I know that you are the Evil One and not aunt," shouted Nicholas
gleefully; "when we asked aunt for strawberry jam yesterday she said
there wasn't any. I know there are four jars of it in the store
cupboard, because I looked, and of course you know it's there, but she
doesn't, because she said there wasn't any. Oh, Devil, you _have_ sold
yourself!"
There was an unusual sense of luxury in being able to talk to an aunt as
though one was talking to the Evil One, but Nicholas knew, with childish
discernment, that such luxuries were not to be over-indulged in. He
walked noisily away, and it was a kitchenmaid, in search of parsley, who
eventually rescued the aunt from the rain-water tank.
Tea that evening was partaken of in a fearsome silence. The tide had
been at its highest when the children had arrived at Jagborough Cove, so
there had been no sands to play on--a circumstance that the aunt had
overlooked in the haste of organising her punitive expedition.
Pages:
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221