believed in him the
evil spirit that was climbing up on to his shoulders would have fled
away. There was a stout piece of stick lying amidst the rubble at his
feet, and he took it up and felt it as a swordsman tests his blade.

"I'm going to be a doctor too," he said truculently. "A big doctor. I
shall make piles of money, and have three ass-assistants. P'r'aps, if
you're any good you shall be one of them."

She did not answer. The intent, observing look had come into her eyes.
The cool wind lifted the brown hair so that it was like a live thing
floating about her head. She seemed as lovely to him as his mother.
He wanted terribly to say to her, "It's my birthday, Francey, and they
haven't even wished me many happy returns;" but that would have shown
her how little he was, and how unhappy. Instead, he began to lunge and
parry with an invisible opponent, talking in a loud, fierce voice.

"I wish the others would come. I've got a topping plan. Edith goes
shopping 'bout six o'clock when it's almost dark. We'll wait at the
corner of John Street and jump out at her and shriek like Red Indians.
And then she'll drop dead with fright. She's such a silly beast----"

Then to his amazement he saw that Francey had grown quite white. Her
mouth quivered. It was as though she were going to cry. And he had
never seen her cry.

"They--they aren't coming, Robert."

"N-not coming? W-why not?"

"There's been a row. Someone complained. Their people won't let them
come any more. Not to play with you. They say--they say----"

He went on fighting, swinging his sword, over his head, faster and
faster. Someone was pressing his heart so that he could hardly
breathe. It was all over. They knew. Everything was going. Finished.

"What do they say?"

"They say you're not a nice little boy----"

There were some tall weeds growing out of the tumbled bricks. He
slashed at them through the mist that was blinding him. He would cut
their heads off, one after another--just to show her.

"I don't care--I don't care----"

"That's why I waited this afternoon. I wanted to tell you. And that
I'd come--if you liked--sometimes--as often as I could----"

"I don't care--I don't care," he chanted.

One weed had fallen, cut in two as by a razor. Now another. You had
to be jolly strong to break them clean off like that. He wasn't
missing once.

"Don't!"

"I shall. Why shouldn't I? You couldn't do it like that."