Part 4 (2/2)
Mrs. van Cannan's voice fell like a jet of ice-cold water into the room. Behind her in the doorway loomed the tall figure of Saxby, the manager, with McNeil and the others. Christine's warm heart would never have suggested such a method of quieting the boy, but it had its points. Roddy, though still shaking and ashen, stood up straight and looked at his mother.
”All about a silly spider!” continued the latter, with cutting scorn.
”I am ashamed of you! I thought you were brave, like your father.”
That flushed Roddy to his brows.
”It has fur--red fur,” he stammered.
”You deserve a whipping for your cowardice,” said Mrs. van Cannan curtly, and walked over to the bed. ”The thing is half dead, and quite harmless,” she said.
”Half dead or half drunk,” McNeil jocosely suggested. ”I never saw a tarantula so quiet as that before.”
”The question is how long would it have stayed in that condition?” said Saltire significantly. ”For you are mistaken about its harmlessness, Mrs. van Cannan. It is one of the most poisonous and ferocious of its tribe.”
They had got the strangely sluggish beast off the bed by knocking it with a stick into an old shoe, and were removing it. Christine only vaguely heard the remarks, for Roddy hid his eyes while it was being carried out, and was trembling violently against her. It seemed amazing to her that Mrs. van Cannan did not realize that there was more than mere cowardice in his behaviour. The trouble was so plainly psychological--the memory of the loss of a loved little brother subtly interwoven with horror of that particular species of venomous insect.
Christine herself had a greater hatred of spiders than of any creeping things, and well understood the child's panic of disgust and fear. It filled her with indignation to hear Mrs. van Cannan turn once more and lash the boy with a phrase before she swept from the room.
”Miserable little coward!”
In a moment, the girl was kneeling on the floor beside the unhappy child, holding him tight, whispering words of love and comfort.
”No, no, darling; it is only that she does not understand! We will explain to her--I will tell her later why you hated it so. Wait till your daddy comes back. I am sure he will understand.”
So she strove to comfort him, while Meekie coaxed the little girls back to the horizontal att.i.tude under their sheets.
”Don't make me go back into that bed,” whispered Roddy fearfully.
”No; of course not. Don't worry; just trust me, darling!” She turned to Meekie. ”I will stay with them now, Meekie. You may go.”
”But has the missy had her dinner?” asked the Cape woman politely.
”I have had all I want, thank you, Meekie.”
The thought of going back to the dinner-table--to eat and join in the talk and laughter while this small boy whom she loved stayed alone with his wretchedness revolted her. Perhaps later, when he slept, she might slip out into the garden for a while. In the meantime, she beguiled him over to her own bed, and having taken off the coverlet to show him that it held no lurking horrors, she made him get in and curl up, and she knelt beside him, whispering softly so as not to disturb the others, rea.s.suring him of her belief in his courage whilst understanding his horror, confessing her own hatred of spiders, but urging him to try and fight against his fear of them. She told him stories of her own childhood, crooned little poems to him, and sang old songs softly, hoping and praying that he would presently fall asleep.
But time slipped by, and he remained wide-eyed, gripping her hand tightly, and only by the slightest degrees relaxing the nervous rigour of his body under the coverlet. Suddenly, he startled her by a strange remark:
”If I could only get into the pink palace with Carol, I'd be all right.”
The girl looked down into the distended pupils gazing so wistfully at her, and wondering what new psychological problem she had to deal with.
She knew she must go very warily, or defeat her own longing to help him. At last, she said very tenderly,
”The world is full of pink palaces, Roddy, but we do not always find them until we are grown up.”
He looked at her intently.
”Carol found one at the bottom of the dam,” he whispered slowly. ”He is there now; it's only his body that is buried in the graveyard.”
She smoothed his hair gently with her hand.
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