My trousers had been changed. Afternoon school was over, and I had just
finished the last weary line in the long imposition set by Mrs.
Handsomebody. I stretched my cramped limbs, and wondered dully where my
brothers were. My depression was increased by the fact that the
freshly-donned trousers were brown tweed, while my jacket was of blue
serge.
I laid the imposition on Mrs. Handsomebody's desk, and listlessly set out
to find the others. I could hear Mary Ellen in the kitchen thumping a mop
against the legs of the furniture in a savage manner that bespoke no mood
of airy persiflage. Therefore, I did not go down the back stairs, but
throwing a leg over the hand-rail of the front stairs, I slowly slid to the
bottom, and rested there a space on my stomach, an attitude peaceful, and
conducive to clear thinking.
I reviewed the situation dispassionately. Here was I, who had scarcely been
at all to blame, humiliated, an outcast, so to speak, while Angel, who had
made the beastly mess, went unscathed. As for The Seraph! I could scarcely
bear to think of him with his tell-tale sticky little chin.
Voices roused me. Buoyant with animation, they penetrated beyond the closed
front door. A loud unknown voice, mingled with those of Angel and The
Seraph.
In an instant, I was on my feet, my nose pressed against one of the narrow
windows of ruby-coloured glass that were on either side of the hall door. I
could see three small red figures in animated conversation on the square
grass plot before the house. The largest of the three began to execute a
masterly hop, skip and jump on the crimson grass. Above arched the sanguine
sky.