You know perfectly that is only a
feather which has worked its way out of your pillow."
"Why?"
The monosyllable had served Mark well in its time; but even as he fell
back upon this stale resource he knew it had failed at last.
"I can't stay to explain 'why' now; but if you try to think you'll
understand why."
"Mother, if I don't have any gas at all, will you sit with me in the
dark for a little while, a tiny little while, and stroke my forehead
where I bumped it on the knob of the bed? I really did bump it quite
hard--I forgot to tell you that. I forgot to tell you because when it
was you I was so excited that I forgot."
"Now listen, Mark. Mother wants you to be a very good boy and turn over
and go to sleep. Father is very worried and very tired, and the Bishop
is coming tomorrow."
"Will he wear a hat like the Bishop who came last Easter? Why is he
coming?"
"No darling, he's not that kind of bishop. I can't explain to you why
he's coming, because you wouldn't understand; but we're all very
anxious, and you must be good and brave and unselfish. Now kiss me and
turn over."
Mark flung his arms round his mother's neck, and thrilled by a sudden
desire to sacrifice himself murmured that he would go to sleep in the
dark.
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