do as ’e should.. .”
Felicity said sharply, “What lad?” She thought at once of Lanny. “Who is it?” she urged. “Who are you talking about?”
The woman who answered was big-eyed with her news. “It’s young Willie Graham! The Captain has ’im fast in there ... stealin’, he says.”
Thrusting the reins into Uncle Perry’s hands, Felicity sprang down and ran toward the gate, pushing her way through the onlookers.
Beyond the gate she stopped. There had been a light fall of snow, enough to cover the ground and powder the trees; it made an incongruously beautiful backdrop for a tableau assembled with the theatrical precision of high drama.
Captain Hardman, on his brute of a stallion, loomed above two small boys—Willie, passive and incurious under the hands of the head keeper, clutching to his chest a shining red ball; and, nearby, Geoffrey Hardman, stiff with outrage, yet with a suppressed air of gloating. Near the gate Ester was being restrained by a massive Negro and two other men watched the crowd for trouble.
Captain Hardman was addressing Ester in that light, expressionless voice and Felicity could tell that he was enjoying every minute.
“... you cannot deny the evidence of your own eyes, madam. The ball belongs to my son—your boy has it in his possession—indeed he is loath to surrender it.”
Felicity’s heart sank. She saw at once what must have happened. She had been working very hard with Willie for the past few weeks, endeavoring to find some way through that wall of silent apathy; she sensed that he had taken to her and had used that faint thread of interest, painstakingly going over and over one simple theme—circles—all kinds of circles, including a red ball! Until this moment she was unsure whether she had made any progress, yet here surely was the proof; even in the midst of her dismay she could not restrain a thrill of elation. She pressed forward until her way was barred.
“Let that child go this instant, Captain Hardman!”
He turned hard, pitiless eyes on her. “Ah, the school-marm! A propitious arrival. You are in time to witness the punishment of one of your charges. You should govern them better, ma’am!”
“How can you talk of punishment? You know this child is not responsible for his actions.”
“Then he must be made to learn that responsibility the hard way, idiot or no,” he sneered.
“If that is how you feel,” Felicity insisted desperately, “then take him before a magistrate.”
The thin mouth twisted. “Before Stayne? What kind of justice would that produce, I wonder? No, Miss Vale—this is an affair between children; I have a fancy to keep it that way.”
“The idiot stole my ball,” smirked Geoffrey. “My father is going to let me beat him!”
Felicity stared at Hardman in disbelief. “But that is obscene! Surely even you would not encourage such sadistic brutality in your own son?”
One glance assured her that he would. His contempt flayed her like a lash. “Have a care, schoolmarm! You are trespassing on my land for the second time. I might yet be tempted to treat you in similar fashion!”
She flushed scarlet. Her eyes found Ester; anger mingled with terror in her face. Her own anger mounting, Felicity swung around on the crowd.
“Are you going to stand there and let this happen?”
Without waiting for answer she delivered a well-aimed elbow to her captor’s midriff. Caught unawares, he doubled up in pain; she pushed him aside and ran to scoop Willie from the grasp of the momentarily disconcerted keeper.
Willie regarded her solemnly and slowly held out his hands. “Ball,” he said quite distinctly.
For a moment everything stood still except her heart, which leapt with pride. She hugged him.
“Yes, dear, ball,” she said. “But let us put it down now.”
She took it from his unresisting fingers and let it drop to the ground.
“Fools! Dolts!” Captain Hardman was nearly speechless with rage. “Seize her! Seize them
Felicity said sharply, “What lad?” She thought at once of Lanny. “Who is it?” she urged. “Who are you talking about?”
The woman who answered was big-eyed with her news. “It’s young Willie Graham! The Captain has ’im fast in there ... stealin’, he says.”
Thrusting the reins into Uncle Perry’s hands, Felicity sprang down and ran toward the gate, pushing her way through the onlookers.
Beyond the gate she stopped. There had been a light fall of snow, enough to cover the ground and powder the trees; it made an incongruously beautiful backdrop for a tableau assembled with the theatrical precision of high drama.
Captain Hardman, on his brute of a stallion, loomed above two small boys—Willie, passive and incurious under the hands of the head keeper, clutching to his chest a shining red ball; and, nearby, Geoffrey Hardman, stiff with outrage, yet with a suppressed air of gloating. Near the gate Ester was being restrained by a massive Negro and two other men watched the crowd for trouble.
Captain Hardman was addressing Ester in that light, expressionless voice and Felicity could tell that he was enjoying every minute.
“... you cannot deny the evidence of your own eyes, madam. The ball belongs to my son—your boy has it in his possession—indeed he is loath to surrender it.”
Felicity’s heart sank. She saw at once what must have happened. She had been working very hard with Willie for the past few weeks, endeavoring to find some way through that wall of silent apathy; she sensed that he had taken to her and had used that faint thread of interest, painstakingly going over and over one simple theme—circles—all kinds of circles, including a red ball! Until this moment she was unsure whether she had made any progress, yet here surely was the proof; even in the midst of her dismay she could not restrain a thrill of elation. She pressed forward until her way was barred.
“Let that child go this instant, Captain Hardman!”
He turned hard, pitiless eyes on her. “Ah, the school-marm! A propitious arrival. You are in time to witness the punishment of one of your charges. You should govern them better, ma’am!”
“How can you talk of punishment? You know this child is not responsible for his actions.”
“Then he must be made to learn that responsibility the hard way, idiot or no,” he sneered.
“If that is how you feel,” Felicity insisted desperately, “then take him before a magistrate.”
The thin mouth twisted. “Before Stayne? What kind of justice would that produce, I wonder? No, Miss Vale—this is an affair between children; I have a fancy to keep it that way.”
“The idiot stole my ball,” smirked Geoffrey. “My father is going to let me beat him!”
Felicity stared at Hardman in disbelief. “But that is obscene! Surely even you would not encourage such sadistic brutality in your own son?”
One glance assured her that he would. His contempt flayed her like a lash. “Have a care, schoolmarm! You are trespassing on my land for the second time. I might yet be tempted to treat you in similar fashion!”
She flushed scarlet. Her eyes found Ester; anger mingled with terror in her face. Her own anger mounting, Felicity swung around on the crowd.
“Are you going to stand there and let this happen?”
Without waiting for answer she delivered a well-aimed elbow to her captor’s midriff. Caught unawares, he doubled up in pain; she pushed him aside and ran to scoop Willie from the grasp of the momentarily disconcerted keeper.
Willie regarded her solemnly and slowly held out his hands. “Ball,” he said quite distinctly.
For a moment everything stood still except her heart, which leapt with pride. She hugged him.
“Yes, dear, ball,” she said. “But let us put it down now.”
She took it from his unresisting fingers and let it drop to the ground.
“Fools! Dolts!” Captain Hardman was nearly speechless with rage. “Seize her! Seize them
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