England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Spiritualism -- Fiction
"Bless the boy, I don't know," said Blessington. "It was just mischief."
"Yes, but what's mischief?" asked Archie.
Blessington was a simple and direct theologian.
"Well, I shouldn't wonder if it's doing what Sapum wants you to do,"
said she, Sapum being her equivalent for the arch-enemy.
"I shouldn't wonder either," said Archie. "But it's rather beastly of
Sapum to take possession of a very small boy with a bad cold in the
head."
"Eh, he takes possession of us all, if we let him," observed
Blessington. "But that was the naughtiest thing you ever did, dear. I
wouldn't lay it up to you now."
"Was I good as a rule?" asked he.
"Yes, Master Archie, for a boy you were," said Blessington. "Boys are
more trouble than girls, as is natural and proper."
"But doesn't Sapum enter into girls, too?" asked he, with another
thought in his mind.
"Yes, to be sure, but not so violent-like. And when after that you were
took ill, and we all went out to--eh, what's the name of that place in
Switzerland--I must say you were wonderfully good. It was as if some
angel took possession of you, not one of Sapum's flibertigibbits. You
were no trouble at all; and see how quick you got well."
Archie rocked himself backwards and forwards for a minute in silence.
"I wish I could remember Martin," he said at length. "Tell me something
about Martin."
"Eh, dear lamb!" said she. "Couldn't he be naughty too, when the fit
took him! But then he got ill, and many's the time when I've longed for
him to be naughty again, and he hadn't the spirit for it. He didn't want
to die, and right up to the end he thought he'd get better. You papa
never loved any one like he loved him, and nobody could help loving him.
He was like a April morning, dear--sunshine one minute and squalls the
next. And there was months, Master Archie, when we thought you would
follow him."
Blessington grew a little tearful, with the sweet, easy tears of old-age
over this, and Archie changed the subject.
"And Abracadabra, now?" he asked. "What evenings those birthdays
evenings were, weren't they? I wish Abracadabra came still, bringing all
we wanted. What would you choose, Blessington?"
Blessington beamed again.
"Eh, I know what I'd choose," she said. "I'd choose a nice young lady to
come here, and you and she take a fancy to each other, dear. That's what
I'd choose. Isn't there some nice young lady, Master Archie?"
Archie stopped his rocking for a moment, and a bitter word was on the
end of his tongue. Then he smiled back at his nurse's radiant face.
"I'm going to marry you, Blessington," he said, "when you're old enough.
Don't you go flirting with anybody else now."
Blessington gave a little cackle of soft, toothless laughter.
"Well, I never," she said. "Who ever heard such a thing?"
"Well, you've heard of it now," said he. "Blessington, I believe there's
somebody else after you. I say, did you ever have any lovers once upon a
time?"
Blessington looked solemn again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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