"
"All right," she said soothingly, "I'm sure you will. Lie down now, and
try to go to sleep." She hoped with all her heart that the boy would
sleep late the next morning, as he very often did when tired out, and
that the execution, if execution there must be, would be over by the time
he woke.
She bent down, tucked him up, kissed him, blew out the candle, and then
went quickly out of the room.
* * * * *
As soon as his mother had shut the door, Timmy sat up in bed, and then
he gave a smothered cry. It was as if he had seen flash out into the
darkness his beloved cat's wistful face, her beautiful, big, china-blue
eyes, gazing confidently at him, as if to say, "You'll save me, Master,
won't you?"
He listened intently for a few minutes, then he slipped down and felt his
way to the door. He opened it; but there came no sound from the sleeping
house. Closing the door very, very softly, he lit his candle and rapidly
dressed himself in his day clothes, finally putting on a thick pair of
walking shoes, and over them goloshes. Timmy hated goloshes, and never
wore them if he could help it, but he had read in some detective story
that they deadened sound.
Pages:
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279