Part 58 (1/2)

'I should think not indeed,' ventured Monkey, but so low that no one heard her.

'And so you went on thinking it all alone,' said Rogers in a low voice.

'I tried to write it first as a story,' she answered softly, 'but found that was beyond me; so I went on thinking it all alone, as you say---'

'Until the Pattern of your thought floated across the world to me,'

said Daddy proudly. 'I imagined I was inspired; instead I was a common, unoriginal plagiarist!'

'Like all the rest of us,' she laughed.

'Mummie, what _is_ a plagiarist?' asked Jinny instantly; and as Rogers, her husband, and even Minks came hurriedly to her aid, the spell of the strange recital was broken, and out of the turmoil of voices the only thing distinctly heard was Mother exclaiming with shocked surprise:--

'Why, it's ten o'clock! Jimbo, Monkey, please plagiarise off to bed at once!'--in a tone that admitted of no rejoinder or excuses.

'A most singular thing, isn't it, Henry?' remarked the author, coming across to his side when the lamp was lit and the children had said their good-nights.

'I really think we ought to report it to the Psychical Society as a genuine case of thought-transference. You see, what people never properly realise is---'

But Henry Rogers lost the remainder of the sentence even if he heard the beginning, for his world was in a state of indescribable turmoil, one emotion tumbling wildly upon the heels of another. He was elated to intoxication. The room spun round him. The next second his heart sank down into his boots. He only caught the end of the words she was saying to Mother across the room:--

'... but I must positively go to-morrow, I've already stayed too long.

So many things are waiting at home for me to do. I must send a telegram and....'

His cousin's wumbling drowned the rest. He was quite aware that Rogers was not listening to him.

'... your great kindness in writing to him, and then coming yourself,'

Mother was saying. 'It's such an encouragement. I can't tell you how much he--we---'

'And you'll let me write to you about the children,' she interrupted, 'the plans we discussed, you know....'

Rogers broke away from his cousin with a leap. It felt at least like a leap. But he knew not where to go or what to say. He saw Minks standing with Jane Anne again by the fourneau, picking at his ear. By the open window with Mother stood the little visitor. She was leaving to-morrow. A torturing pain like twisting knives went through him. The universe was going out!... He saw the starry sky behind her. Daddy went up and joined them, and he was aware that the three of them talked all at once for what seemed an interminable time, though all he heard was his cousin's voice repeating at intervals, 'But you _can't_ send a telegram before eight o'clock to-morrow morning in any case; the post is closed....'