s. That's
part of the Magic."

And Dickon helped him, and the Magic--or whatever it was--so gave him
strength that when the sun did slip over the edge and end the strange
lovely afternoon for them there he actually stood on his two
feet--laughing.

CHAPTER XXIII

MAGIC

Dr. Craven had been waiting some time at the house when they returned to
it. He had indeed begun to wonder if it might not be wise to send some
one out to explore the garden paths. When Colin was brought back to his
room the poor man looked him over seriously.

"You should not have stayed so long," he said. "You must not overexert
yourself."

"I am not tired at all," said Colin. "It has made me well. To-morrow I
am going out in the morning as well as in the afternoon."

"I am not sure that I can allow it," answered Dr. Craven. "I am afraid
it would not be wise."

"It would not be wise to try to stop me," said Colin quite seriously. "I
am going."

Even Mary had found out that one of Colin's chief peculiarities was that
he did not know in the least what a rude little brute he was with his
way of ordering people about. He had lived on a sort of desert island
all his life and as he had been the king of it he had made his own
manners and had had no one to compare himself with. Mary had indeed
been rather like him herself and since she had been at Misselthwaite had
gradually discovered that her own manners had not been of the kind which
is usual or popular. Having made this discovery she naturally thought it
of enough interest to communicate to Colin. So she sat and looked at him
curiously for a few minutes after Dr. Craven had gone. She wanted to
make him ask her why she was doing it and of course she did.

"What are you looking at me for?" he said.

"I'm thinking that I am rather sorry for Dr. Craven."

"So am I," said Colin calmly, but not without an air of some
satisfaction. "He won't get Misselthwaite at all now I'm not going to
die."

"I'm sorry for him because of that, of course," said Mary, "but I was
thinking just then that it must have been very horrid to have had to be
polite for ten years to a boy who was always rude. I would never have
done it."

"Am I rude?" Colin inquired undisturbedly.

"If you had been his own boy and he had been a slapping sort of man,"
said Mary, "he would have slapped you."

"But he daren't," said Colin.

"No, he daren't," answered Mistress Mary, thinking the thing out quite
without prejudic