"I know you," she cried, turning angrily on the
Fidgets, "you horrid little things! I've had you often, in school just
before it's out, and in church, and when mother takes me out to make
calls--you've disgraced her often--" Then she stopped, really afraid
of saying too much. The Fidgets, with a wild squeal, now began a mad
sort of dance round and round the two children, giving them now a nip,
now a pinch, now a sharp pull till they were dizzy and frightened and
weary of trying to defend themselves against such unequal numbers.
All at once, above the shrill cries of their enemies, the children
heard a new sound, a crackling rustling noise in the bushes as if some
large creature was making its way through the wood. The Fidgets heard
it, too, and in a twinkling they had hushed their shrill voices,
broken their circle, and completely hidden themselves from sight. It
was all so sudden that Rudolf and Ann had no time to run, but stood
perfectly still, gazing at the bushes just in front of them from which
the noises came.
As they looked the bushes were parted, and a long lean head poked
itself through, a large black head with a white streak down its nose,
and two great mournful eyes that stared into theirs. Ann gave a little
scream and shrank closer to Rudolf. The creature opened a wide mouth
that showed enormous, ugly, yellow teeth, and said in a rough but not
unfriendly voice: "Hullo! Oats-and-Broadswords--if it's not a couple
of lost colts! Where'd you come from, youngsters?"
Without waiting for them to answer, it crashed through the bushes and
stood before them, a curious sight, indeed the strangest they had yet
seen in the course of their adventures.
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