But amid the confusion Miss Edith found a chance to say a final word
to me. "Don't you try," she said, as I was about to mount my bicycle,
"to keep those holly sprigs in your brain until Christmas. They are
awfully stickery, they will not last, and, besides, there will not be
any Christmas."
"And how about New-Year's Day?" I asked.
"That is the way to talk," skid she. "Keep your mind on that and you
will be all right."
As I rode along I could not forget that it would be necessary for me
to pass the inn. I had made inquiries, but there were no byways which
would serve my purpose. There was nothing for me to do but keep on,
and on I kept. I should pass so noiselessly and so swiftly that I did
not believe any one would notice me, unless, indeed, it should be the
boy. I earnestly hoped that I should not see the boy.
Whether or not I was seen from the inn as I passed it I do not know.
In fact, I did not know when I passed it. No shout of immature
diabolism caught my ear, no scent of lemon came into my nostrils, and
I saw nothing but the line of road directly in front of me.
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