THE CLOAK OF DARKNESS
The Stepmother went out and came back with a flashlight.
“Here,” she said.
The Giant flashed it into the closet, yanked out the trunk, flashed the
light in again, straight into Wendell’s face, as he crouched there
half-covered by old clothes.
“He isn’t here,” said the Giant.
“No,” said his wife.
“He’s _been_ in here, though,” declared the Giant, sniffing. “Strong
smell of him.”
“Probably the man had him crawl in there to see if there was any leak in
the connection,” suggested the Stepmother. “I hope he’ll come back and
finish up soon. This place is a mess.”
What did it mean? They were looking straight at him. The light was
shining full on him. Yet they didn’t see him, not any more than if he
were invisible.
_Invisible!_ Why, of course! The invisible cloak--the Cloak of Darkness
that he had come to find! It must be this musty old garment that he had
pulled down to conceal him in his fright. Sure enough! And now came the
terrifying thought,--in another moment the door might be closed upon
him, and he shut fast in a prison from which there would be no easier
escape than if it were a veritable Giant’s dungeon in a fairy book. He
must get out at once. He drew the musty folds securely about him,
crawled forward, dodged under the Giant’s very arm, squeezed close to
the wall to pass the Stepmother, made himself small, not to crowd the
Ugly Stepsister, all agog in the doorway, slid down the banisters,
sneaked through the kitchen, out the back door, and away. He was free!
He scudded down the street as fast as his legs could twinkle, and turned
the corner. Which way to go, was the question. A nice-looking lady was
approaching. Wendell politely took off his cap and confronted her as she
reached him. To his surprise, the lady sailed by without twitching a
feature.
“Oh, of course. She can’t see me,” said Wendell. So he slipped off the
cloak and hung it over his arm, and in a moment a grocer’s delivery boy
with a basket came around the curve.
“Say, can you tell me where to get the car for Park Street?” asked
Wendell.
“Sure, kid,” said the boy obligingly. “Keep on to a big house with a
stone wall around it. Then take the first street to the right and you’ll
come out on the car line.”
Wendell thanked him and went on, found the house and the wall and the
street, and there ahead of him were the electric wires. He got to the
corner almost simultaneously with the car, hailed it and jumped on with
a sigh of relief. It was a pay-as-you-enter car. He stood by the box and
slid his hand into his pocket for the necessary dime, to realize with a
shock that he hadn’t a cent with him. These were his cast-off clothes.
He knew it was useless to search the pockets. He remembered he had gone
through them a week ago, when the ice cream-sandwich man was going by.
He grinned at the conductor, feeling very foolish, and dropped off the
car.
Well, of course, he could walk it all right, since he had to. It would
be simple to follow the car tracks. He stuck his hands in his pockets
and started off whistling.
“Hey, kid, you’re dragging your mother’s cape,” said a young fellow who
passed him. Wendell folded the Cloak of Darkness into a better shape for
carrying, then decided to wear it. After he had it on, the inspiration
came to him to board an electric at the next white post, and ride home
free.
Perfectly simple! He got on behind an unsuspecting gentleman and took a
seat near the door. Across the aisle sat a cross-eyed man. Wendell had
always longed for a chance to see how a cross-eyed man worked his eyes,
but he had never been allowed to stare at any one. Now he sat and stared
to his heart’s content, unforbidden and unseen. He stared with such
concentration that he was unaware that another passenger had entered the
car, a very stout old colored woman, until, ouch! she sat right down on
him!
“Laws-ee!” she said, and rose up quickly, and Wendell jumped for another
seat as fast as his crushed condition would permit. The old woman turned
to apologize--to an empty seat! Her jaw dropped in surprise, she glared
all around the car, and then lowered herself cautiously into the seat,
still muttering.
Wendell felt so secure in his invisibility, that he made no attempt to
restrain his laughter. He roared with mirth, and rocked, and slapped his
knee, till he noticed that the passengers were all looking to see which
one of them was responsible for this unseemly noise. This struck Wendell
as funnier than ever. He laughed uncontrollably, but he didn’t forget
again to keep an eye on the door; and whenever anyone got on after that,
Wendell rose to his feet with a promptitude that would have earned him a
medal as the most courteous boy in Greater Boston, if the Courtesy
Contest Editor of the _Post_ could have seen him.
As the car proceeded northward, the seats were filled more and more,
till there was no room for Wendell to sit. Towards the end of his ride,
it really was too crowded for comfort, for other standing passengers
stood on his feet, and wedged him in to small spaces, and lurched
against him with the motion of the car, and then apologized to somebody
else, till he was very glad when they arrived at Park Street, and he
could run for home. He went in with the cloak under his arm and hid it
in his bureau drawer.