Part 8 (1/2)

But you mustn't touch their brothers, for if you do--oh my! You have them on to you at once. Here, I say, I wish you wouldn't talk like that.”

”Well, I will not. I don't want to go away and leave you, but I must.

I can think of nothing else.”

”But why?”

”Because I am shut up here alone so much, a prisoner.”

”Yes, but it's only until it's safe for you to go away. You must see that you ought to be patient. There, I'll bring you up books to read, to amuse you.”

”I can't read them. They wouldn't amuse me with my mind in this state.”

”Well; then, have a look at some of my things,” cried Waller, pulling out the drawer of a big press. ”These are all traps and springs with which I catch birds and animals in the forest. Bunny Wrigg taught me how to make them and how to use them. I wish you knew him. He's a capital fellow, and knows the forest ten times better than I do.”

”Oh, I don't want to know the forest--nor, your friend,” said the lad wearily. ”I want to be free to come and go--as free as the birds and those little animals, the squirrels, that I see out of the window.”

”Yes, of course you do, and so you shall be soon,” cried Waller. ”But you haven't quite recovered yet from that feverishness and all you went through. I say, have a look in this drawer.”

Waller thrust the open one in and pulled out another. ”Look here, these are my old nets with which we drag the hammer pond, and catch the carp and tench; great golden fellows they are, some of them; but the worst of it is the pond's so deep that the fish dive under the net and escape.”

”And those which do not,” said the lad sadly, ”you take in that net and make prisoners of them. Poor things! And what good are they to you when you have caught them?”

”Good? Good to eat! I say, what a fellow you are to talk of the fish one catches as prisoners! Carp and tench are not human beings.”

”No, they are not human beings,” said the lad, smiling sadly; ”but they are prisoners, the same as I am.”

”Oh, I say, what stuff! To call yourself a prisoner, when you are only a visitor here, and could come and go just as you like--at least, not quite, for it wouldn't be safe; but it will be soon.”

”What's that coil of new rope for?”

”That?” cried Waller. ”Oh, that's a new rope for my drag-net. The old one was quite worn out. You shall help me to fit this on if you like.”

”Thank you. I'll help you if you wish.”

”Well, I do wish, when you get well; but I don't care to see you in the dumps like this. Of course I know what it is: it's being shut up in this room for so long. A few good walks in the forest would make you as right as could be.”

”Yes,” said the lad wearily. ”I feel as if I should like to be out again, for I often think when I am shut up here that it's like being a bird in a cage.”

”Ah, you won't feel that long,” said Waller.

It was the very next day when, after taking his new friend a selection of what he considered interesting books, Waller announced that he should not come upstairs again till the evening, for he had several things to do, and among others to write a letter to his father in London, and then take it to the village post-office for despatch.

”I don't think that either of the maids is likely to come up,” said Waller, at parting; ”but if they should try the door, all you have got to do is to keep quite still. Of course, you will lock yourself in as soon as I am gone. Shall I bring you anything else to eat before I go?”

”No,” said the lad, with a weary look of disgust. ”You bring me too much as it is; more than I care to have. Don't bring me any more till I ask.”

”I shall,” said Waller, with a laugh. ”I am not going to have you starve yourself to death up in my room. There, jump up and come and shut the door, and then have a good long read. I'll get back to you as soon as I can, and then we will have a good game at draughts or chess.

But I mustn't be up here too much, or it will make the girls suspicious.