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Authors: Patricia St John
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back till late. The grandmother spoke very kindly, Lucien. They are good people and I think they will forgive you and not make the trouble you deserve.”
Lucien did not reply. The grandmother might forgive him, but he knew quite well that Annette never would.
“Did the schoolmaster know of what happened?” asked his mother after a pause.
“Yes,” replied Lucien.
“Did he say anything about it?” went on Madame.
“No,” answered Lucien.
His mother was puzzled. She had had a miserable day thinking of what sort of a time her son might be having at school, but nothing seemed to have happened. He even looked slightly more cheerful than he had in the morning.
“I’m going over to milk the cows, Mother,” said Lucien, and he crossed to the stable with a sigh of relief. The stable was a refuge where he could get away from his mother’s questions, and where the cows thought none the worse of him. He started quickly, and then, tilting the bucket, drank about a pint of the warm, frothing milk straight off and felt better. He had had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast.
Tonight he would save some of his supper, and tomorrow he would go back to the woods again and spend another quiet, hidden day. He would do it every day until he was found out … and that might not be for a long time.
He took as long as he could over the milking and then wandered back into the house carrying the buckets. He reached the door at the same time as his sister, who had hurried up the hill and was flushed and out of breath.
“You little coward, Lucien,” she exclaimed as she saw him. “Fancy missing school like that! What has he been doing all day, Mother? You should have made him go!”
Her mother turned around indignantly. “What are you talking about, Marie?” she asked sharply. “Of course he’s been to school. He’s only just come in. Leave the poor child alone and get on with your work.”
“Indeed,” exclaimed Marie. “Well, if he’s only just come in, I should dearly like to know where he’s come from. I happen to have met the schoolmaster on my way up from the station. He was weeding his vegetable patch. He looked over the fence and called out to me. ‘Where’s Lucien?’ he asked, ‘and why has he not come to school? Is he not well?’ I answered, ‘He’s well enough, and he shall come tomorrow if I have to drag him!’ So now you know, Lucien! Goodness knows where you’ve been today, but tomorrow I shall take you to school myself.”
“Fancy you lying to me like that, Lucien,” cried his mother angrily. “You are a wicked boy. I do not know what to do with you. The master must deal with you.” Because she was so worried, and because her boy had deceived her, she threw her apron over her face and began to cry.
Lucien sat down by the stove in bitter, sullen silence. Everyone and everything seemed against him. His only hope of escape had been taken from him Tomorrow he would have to go to school and Annette would be there. If he had gone today she would not have been there.
He picked up a large wood chip and began whittling away with his knife, and once more his fingers felt for the wooden chamois in his pocket.
9
A Visit to the Hospital
D ani lay in the cart on a sack stretched across a soft mattress of hay and gazed up at the blue sky, where tiny, white, woolly clouds floated by. He would have liked to look over the sides of the cart, but this was impossible, for he could not sit up. So he looked at the sky instead, and Annette described the scenery and what was happening as they went along. Dani’s leg ached badly, which made him rather bad tempered. When the cart jolted he squealed, but Annette spoke to him soothingly to calm him down, and it was still nice to feel so important.
“We are at the top of the village now, Dani,” said Annette, “just passing the church, and there is Emil the dustman’s son driving the cows out of the churchyard. Some naughty person must have left the gate
Lucien did not reply. The grandmother might forgive him, but he knew quite well that Annette never would.
“Did the schoolmaster know of what happened?” asked his mother after a pause.
“Yes,” replied Lucien.
“Did he say anything about it?” went on Madame.
“No,” answered Lucien.
His mother was puzzled. She had had a miserable day thinking of what sort of a time her son might be having at school, but nothing seemed to have happened. He even looked slightly more cheerful than he had in the morning.
“I’m going over to milk the cows, Mother,” said Lucien, and he crossed to the stable with a sigh of relief. The stable was a refuge where he could get away from his mother’s questions, and where the cows thought none the worse of him. He started quickly, and then, tilting the bucket, drank about a pint of the warm, frothing milk straight off and felt better. He had had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast.
Tonight he would save some of his supper, and tomorrow he would go back to the woods again and spend another quiet, hidden day. He would do it every day until he was found out … and that might not be for a long time.
He took as long as he could over the milking and then wandered back into the house carrying the buckets. He reached the door at the same time as his sister, who had hurried up the hill and was flushed and out of breath.
“You little coward, Lucien,” she exclaimed as she saw him. “Fancy missing school like that! What has he been doing all day, Mother? You should have made him go!”
Her mother turned around indignantly. “What are you talking about, Marie?” she asked sharply. “Of course he’s been to school. He’s only just come in. Leave the poor child alone and get on with your work.”
“Indeed,” exclaimed Marie. “Well, if he’s only just come in, I should dearly like to know where he’s come from. I happen to have met the schoolmaster on my way up from the station. He was weeding his vegetable patch. He looked over the fence and called out to me. ‘Where’s Lucien?’ he asked, ‘and why has he not come to school? Is he not well?’ I answered, ‘He’s well enough, and he shall come tomorrow if I have to drag him!’ So now you know, Lucien! Goodness knows where you’ve been today, but tomorrow I shall take you to school myself.”
“Fancy you lying to me like that, Lucien,” cried his mother angrily. “You are a wicked boy. I do not know what to do with you. The master must deal with you.” Because she was so worried, and because her boy had deceived her, she threw her apron over her face and began to cry.
Lucien sat down by the stove in bitter, sullen silence. Everyone and everything seemed against him. His only hope of escape had been taken from him Tomorrow he would have to go to school and Annette would be there. If he had gone today she would not have been there.
He picked up a large wood chip and began whittling away with his knife, and once more his fingers felt for the wooden chamois in his pocket.
9
A Visit to the Hospital
D ani lay in the cart on a sack stretched across a soft mattress of hay and gazed up at the blue sky, where tiny, white, woolly clouds floated by. He would have liked to look over the sides of the cart, but this was impossible, for he could not sit up. So he looked at the sky instead, and Annette described the scenery and what was happening as they went along. Dani’s leg ached badly, which made him rather bad tempered. When the cart jolted he squealed, but Annette spoke to him soothingly to calm him down, and it was still nice to feel so important.
“We are at the top of the village now, Dani,” said Annette, “just passing the church, and there is Emil the dustman’s son driving the cows out of the churchyard. Some naughty person must have left the gate
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