I
mean I'VE got to. I wouldn't so soon if it wasn't for my legs.
But they keep right on growing--they're awful, dear!--I can't
stop 'em. Olivicia, lie right there and be thankful you're a doll!
But I wish you could open your eyes and look at me just once
more."
Rebecca Mary shut the drawer gently. It was over--no, she would
say one thing more to the beautiful being in there. She bent to
the keyhole.
"Olivicia!" she called in a tender whisper, "I shall be right
here nights. We shan't be far away from each other."
But it would not be like lying in each other's arms--oh, not at
all like that. Rebecca Mary caught her breath; it was perilously
like a sob. Then she girded up her loins and went away to meet
her fate--the common fate of all.
She was very tired. The day had been a strain upon her that was
beginning now to tell. To put all one's childhood into one day--
that is not easy.
Article VI. was the last. In a way, it was a rest to Rebecca
Mary, for it entailed merely a visit to the woodshed. She could
sit quietly on the floor opposite the knothole and wait for the
Thoughts. If the Thought of Growing Up came out tonight, she
would say: "Oh, well, you may stay--you needn't go back. I'm not
any glad to see you, but I'm ready. I suppose I shall get used to
you.
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