There was a step on the stair, the firm, well-known
step of his father, and he paused a moment with a look of
conscious virtue on his small shiny face.
But it fled all at once, and a look of horror replaced it. He had
stuck the bottle on a great armchair for convenience, as he was
sitting on the floor, and now he noticed it had fallen on its side
and a black, horrid stream was issuing from its neck.
And it was the chair with the uniform on, and one of the sleeves
was soaked with the stuff, and the beautiful white shirt that
lay there, too, waiting for a button, was sticky, horrible!
Bunty gave a wild, terrified look round the room for some place
to efface himself, but there were no sheltering corners or curtains,
and there was not time to get into the bedroom and under the bed.
Near the window was a large-sized medicine chest, and in despair
Bunty crushed himself into it, his legs huddled up, his head
between his knees, and an ominous rattle of displaced bottles
in his ears. The next minute his father was in the room.
"Great Heavens! God bless my soul!" he said, and Bunty shivered
from head to foot.
Then he said a lot of things very quickly--"foreign language" as
Judy called it; kicked something over, and shouted "Esther!" in a
terrifying tone.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41