William sat in
the back row near the window, and next him sat Joan. She gazed at his
set, expressionless face in mute sympathy. He listened to the monotonous
voice of the conjurer.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I will proceed to swallow these three
needles and these three strands of cotton and shortly to bring out
each needle threaded with a strand of cotton. Will any lady step
forward and examine the needles? Ladies ought to know all about
needles, oughtn't they? You young gentlemen don't learn to sew at
school, do you? Ha! Ha! Perhaps some of you young gentlemen don't know
what a needle is? Ha! Ha!"
William scowled, and his thoughts flew off to the little house in the
dirty back street. It was Christmas Eve. Her father was "comin' out."
She would be waiting, watching with bright, expectant eyes for the
"spread" she had demanded from Father Christmas to welcome her
returning parent. It was a beastly shame. She was a silly little ass,
anyway, not to believe him. He'd told her there wasn't any Father
Christmas.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, I will bring out the three needles
threaded with the three strands of cotton. Watch carefully, ladies and
gentlemen. There! One! Two! Three! Now, I don't advise you young
ladies and gentlemen to try this trick. Needles are very indigestible
to some people. Ha! Ha! Not to me, of course! I can digest
anything--needles, or marbles, or matches, or glass bowls--as you will
soon see.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191