"Didn't want to?Oh,yes,he did!He looked awful sober,and as if he really cared,you know.And he said he'd give all he had in the world if he really could change it,but he couldn't.""Did he say--just that?"Miss Holbrook was leaning forward a little breathlessly now.
"Yes--just that;and that's the part I couldn't understand,"commented David."For I don't see why a story--just a story made up out of somebody's head--can't be changed any way you want it.
And I told him so."
"Well,and what did he say to that?"
"He didn't say anything for a minute,and I had to ask him again.Then he sat up suddenly,just as if he'd been asleep,you know,and said,'Eh,what,David?'And then I told him again what I'd said.This time he shook his head,and smiled that kind of a smile that isn't really a smile,you know,and said something about a real,true-to-life story's never having but one ending,and that was a logical ending.Lady of the Roses,what is a logical ending?"The Lady of the Roses laughed unexpectedly.The two little red spots,that David always loved to see,flamed into her cheeks,and her eyes showed a sudden sparkle.When she answered,her words came disconnectedly,with little laughing breaths between.
"Well,David,I--I'm not sure I can--tell you.But perhaps I--can find out.This much,however,I am sure of:Mr.Jack's logical ending wouldn't be--mine!"What she meant David did not know;nor would she tell him when he asked;but a few days later she sent for him,and very gladly David--able now to go where he pleased--obeyed the summons.
It was November,and the garden was bleak and cold;but in the library a bright fire danced on the hearth,and before this Miss Holbrook drew up two low chairs.
She looked particularly pretty,David thought.The rich red of her dress had apparently brought out an answering red in her cheeks.Her eyes were very bright and her lips smiled;yet she seemed oddly nervous and restless.She sewed a little,with a bit of yellow silk on white--but not for long.She knitted with two long ivory needles flashing in and out of a silky mesh of blue--but this,too,she soon ceased doing.On a low stand at David's side she had placed books and pictures,and for a time she talked of those.Then very abruptly she asked:--"David,when will you see--Mr.Jack again--do you suppose?""Tomorrow.I'm going up to the House that Jack Built to tea,and I'm to stay all night.It's Halloween--that is,it isn't really Halloween,because it's too late.I lost that,being sick,you know.So we're going to pretend,and Mr.Jack is going to show me what it is like.That is what Mr.Jack and Jill always do;when something ails the real thing,they just pretend with the make-believe one.He's planned lots of things for Jill and me to do;with nuts and apples and candles,you know.It's to-morrow night.so I'll see him then.""To-morrow?So--so soon?"faltered Miss Holbrook.And to David,gazing at her with wondering eyes,it seemed for a moment almost as if she were looking about for a place to which she might run and hide.Then determinedly,as if she were taking hold of something with both hands,she leaned forward,looked David squarely in the eyes,and began to talk hurriedly,yet very distinctly.
"David,listen.I've something I want you to say to Mr.Jack,and I want you to be sure and get it just right.It's about the--the story,'The Princess and the Pauper,'you know.You can remember,I think,for you remembered that so well.Will you say it to him--what I'm going to tell you--just as I say it?""Why,of course I will!"David's promise was unhesitating,though his eyes were still puzzled.
"It's about the--the ending,"stammered Miss Holbrook."That is,it may--it may have something to do with the ending--perhaps,"she finished lamely.And again David noticed that odd shifting of Miss Holbrook's gaze as if she were searching for some means of escape.Then,as before,he saw her chin lift determinedly,as she began to talk faster than ever.
"Now,listen,"she admonished him,earnestly.
And David listened.
