Golden Bough. Have you ever read Frazer? I know him and Mannhardt almost by heart. I help dad a lot in my own little way. Have you ever played cat's cradle?" "With a piece of string?" "Yes. Well, games and folk-lore go together, and cat's cradle has been played since the ancient Britons wore—whatever ancient Britons did wear. Now, you're laughing at me." "Indeed, I'm not. I was marveling at our kindred tastes. Have you heard of the Jatakas and Panchatantras of India?" "I know that there are such things." "I'll jot down two or three, with a translation." "Oh, wouldn't dad love to meet you! He often growls because he can't read Sanskrit." "Tell me where you live, and I'll look you up some day." "Our permanent address is——Oh, my! Somebody's coming, and I don't want you to be cross with me again." She fled into the kitchen. The door had hardly closed when a shadow darkened the porch. Armathwaite, lighting his pipe, gazed through a cloud of smoke at a red-faced policeman. "Hello!" he said. "Who have you come for?" The policeman grinned, and saluted. "There's not much doing in Elmdale in my line, sir," he said. "I was told the Grange had a new tenant, so I just looked in. I come this way Thursday mornings and Monday nights, as a rule. I'm stationed at Bellerby, nearly three miles from here. Last time I was in this hall——" Armathwaite was too quick for him. Residence in Mr. Walker's "house 'round the corner" had proved so rife in surprises that the long arm of coincidence might be expected to play its part at any moment. So he countered deftly. "Sorry I can't be more hospitable," he broke in, advancing, and deliberately causing the constable to step back into the porch. "Everything is at sixes and sevens. I only arrived yesterday, and my boxes, as you see, are not yet unpacked." He closed the door, feeling certain that his judgment had not erred. It was soon justified. "Next time you're passing, give me a call," he went on. "I'll be able to offer you a whisky and soda or a bottle of beer. Are you the man
Prev.
Back
Top