Yes,
yes, they were full, as he had left them!
WHO-OOSH!
Heavens! What was _that_?
The Major gripped his bags and was preparing to run; but, an instant
later, cowered low, and backed into the fig-tree's shadow as the
whole sky leapt into flame and shook with a terrific detonation.
The Regatta fireworks had begun.
Across the little garden a window went up.
"My dear," said a voice (the Doctor's), "bring the child to look, if
he won't be frightened."
In the window they stood, all three--the Doctor, "Miss Marty," the
child--a happy domestic group, framed there with the lamp behind
them. Deep as he could squeeze himself back into the shadow, the
Major cowered and watched them.
The child crowed and leapt with delight. His father and mother
looked down at him, then at one another, and laughed happily.
Alas! poor Major!
They had no eyes to search the garden. What should they suspect,
those two, there in the warm circle of the lamp, wrapped in their own
security?
The rockets ceased to blaze and bang. At length the heavens resumed
their dark peace, and the distant barrel-organ reasserted itself from
the Town Quay. The child's voice demanded more, but his father
closed the window and drew the curtain close. Panting hard, his brow
clammy with sweat, the Major stole forth and down to the boat with
his poor spoils.
Half an hour later he found himself in the crowd, his pockets
weighted with guineas.
Pages:
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287