ver did
when it was Jimbo, the child, that asked; and he remained Jimbo, the
child, all that day. She only told him that all was going well. The
pains had come; he had grown nice and thin, and light; the children had
come into his room as a hint that he belonged to their band, and other
things had happened about which she would tell him later. The crisis was
close at hand. That was all he could get out of her.

"It won't be long now," she said excitedly. "They'll come to-night, I
expect."

"What will come to-night?" he asked, with querulous wonder.

"Wait and see!" was all the answer he got. "Wait and see!"

She told him to lie quietly on the bed and to have patience.

With asking questions, and thinking, and wondering, the day passed very
quickly. With the lengthening shadows his excitement began to grow.
Presently Miss Lake took her departure and went off to her unknown and
mysterious abode; he watched her disappear through the floor with
mingled feelings, wondering what would have happened before he saw her
again. She gave him a long, last look as she sank away below the boards,
but it was a look that brought him fresh courage, and her eyes were
happy and smiling.

Tingling already with expectancy he got into the bed and lay down, his
brain alive with one word--ESCAPE.

From where he lay he saw the stars in the narrow strip of sky; he heard
the wind whispering in the branches; he even smelt the perfume of the
fields and hedges--grass, flowers, dew, and the sweet earth--the odours
of freedom.

The governess had, for some reason she refused to explain, taken his
blouse away with her. For a long time he puzzled over this, seeking
reasons and finding none. But, while in the act of stroking his bare
arms, the pains of the night before suddenly returned to both shoulders
at once. Fire seemed to run down his back, splitting his bones apart,
and then passed even more quickly than before, leaving him with the same
wonderful sensations of lightness and strength. He felt inclined to
shout and run and jump, and it was only the memory of the governess's
earnest caution to "lie quietly" that prevented his new emotions passing
into acts.

With very great effort he lay still all night long; and it was only when
the room at last began to get light again that he turned on his side,
preparatory to getting up.

But there was something new--something different! He rested on his
elbow, waiting. Something had happened to him.