Fantasy fiction; Ghost stories; Horror tales; Manners and customs -- Fiction
When Jack woke up the next morning he found that the room was full of
sunshine, and that father was standing at the end of the bed. The
moment Jack opened his eyes, he began telling him something in a
serious voice, which was alone sufficient to prevent Jack from
understanding what he said. Besides, he used a lot of long words, and
Jack thought that it was silly to use long words before breakfast,
when nobody could be expected to remember what they meant. Father's
body neatly fitted the square of the window, and the sunbeams shone
in all round it and made it look splendid; and if Jack had not
already forgotten the unfortunate impression of the night before,
this would have enabled him to overcome it. Every now and then father
stopped to ask him if he understood, and he said he did, hoping to
find out what it was all about later on. It seemed, however, that
father was not going to the post-office any more, and this caused
Jack to picture a series of delightfully amusing days. When father
had finished talking he appeared to expect Jack to say something, but
Jack contented himself with trying to look interested, for he knew
that it was always very stupid of little boys not to understand
things they didn't understand. In reality he felt as if he had been
listening while his father argued aloud with himself, talking up and
down like an earthquake map.
At breakfast they were still subdued, but afterwards, as the morning
wore on, father became livelier and helped Jack to build a hut in
the back garden. They built it of bean-sticks against the wall at the
end, and father broke up a packing-case to get planks for the roof.
Only mother still had a sad face, and it made Jack angry with her,
that she should be such a spoil-fun. After dinner, while Jack was
playing in the hut, Mr. Simmons, of the police-station, and another
gentleman called to take father for a walk, and Jack went down to the
front to see them off. Jack knew Mr. Simmons very well; he had been
to tea with his little boy, but though he thought him a fine sort of
man he could not help feeling proud of his father when he saw them
side by side. Mr. Simmons looked as if he were ashamed of himself,
while father walked along with square shoulders and a high head as if
he had just done something splendid. The other gentleman looked like
nothing at all beside father.
When they were out of sight Jack went into the house and found mother
crying in the kitchen. As he felt more tolerant in his after-dinner
mood, he tried to cheer her up by telling her how fine father had
looked beside the other two men. Mother raised her face, all swollen
and spoilt with weeping, and gazed at her son in astonishment. "They
are taking him to prison," she wailed, "and God knows what will
become of us."
For a moment Jack felt alarmed. Then a thought came to him and he
smiled, like a little boy who has just found a new and delightful
game. "Never mind, mother," he said, "we'll help him to escape."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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