"So many more words," you said, and apparently this has laid a curse on me, for here we have... more words.
***
Mrs. Bickerstaff's prognostication proved true. Medraut was no trouble at all. He went to school and did his schoolwork and brought home good marks and stayed out of Gwen's way, always out tramping in the hills. "Just be home by dark," Gwen told him; and he always was.
At first Medraut tramped on his own, but soon enough Art's dog Caval accompanied him. When Art left Caval had pined; but now he was at the door with his tail wagging when Medraut got home from school. He came when Medraut whistled; he followed Medraut on his rambles; he sat at Medraut's feet at the table. He would have slept in Medraut's bed if Gwen had allowed it, but here she drew a line.
Medraut never argued, or asked for anything. But sometimes he went downstairs and slept beside Caval in the cellar, and Gwen fretted, for it couldn't be good for the child; but after all she hadn't forbidden it. And the dog seemed to make him happy.
But then Art came home on leave. Caval greeted him in a frenzy of barking, leaping and yapping and wagging his tail, moving so fast that Art, laughing, couldn't get a hold to pet him. And Gwen saw Medraut, standing at the top of the stairs, his sharp thin face wild with jealous rage; and then silent as a shadow he turned and disappeared.
"Where's this Medraut you've written so much about?" Art asked, once Caval had calmed down enough that they could settle down for tea.
"Out with his schoolfriends, I expect," Gwen said lightly. For he did have schoolfriends: he was wizard at cricket (as a neighbor boy explained), and could identify all the planes, "and he never backs down from a fight!" the neighbor boy enthused, spraying crumbs from the slice of seedcake Gwen had given him.
He came home sometimes battered and limping, and wouldn't let Gwen tend to his injuries. There seemed to be no special friend. It was hard to know with Medraut.
When he came back that evening, just before dark, Caval greeted him with his usual wagging tail. Medraut ignored him. As long as Arthur was home on leave, Medraut was out of the house except to sleep; and when Art went back to war, Medraut still refused to pay the dog the least bit of attention.
At last Caval groveled up to him on his belly, resting his head on Medraut's feet, which Medraut drew sharply away. Gwen had stayed out of it till then; but now, with some asperity, she said, "He was Art's dog first."
Medruat looked at her, the wary startled look of a wild animal. Then he looked down at his book again, one of those Biggles books that he devoured. He always held them in an awkward position on his lap, as if to hide the covers, so no one could see what he was reading.
That made it easy to see that he was not turning the pages. At last Gwen got up and went into the kitchen to make tea. She heard the back door open, and then Mordred's short sharp whistle; and after a held-breath pause there was the tinkle of Caval's collar, and the padding of the dog's feet, and the soft click as the back door shut.
They were not back till long after dark. When they returned, Medraut stood before Gwen, so stiffly erect that he shivered with the tension - although it might have been the cold.
"Wear a coat next time," Gwen told him. And then: "Caval can sleep in your bed tonight. Just because it's so cold."
no subject
***
Mrs. Bickerstaff's prognostication proved true. Medraut was no trouble at all. He went to school and did his schoolwork and brought home good marks and stayed out of Gwen's way, always out tramping in the hills. "Just be home by dark," Gwen told him; and he always was.
At first Medraut tramped on his own, but soon enough Art's dog Caval accompanied him. When Art left Caval had pined; but now he was at the door with his tail wagging when Medraut got home from school. He came when Medraut whistled; he followed Medraut on his rambles; he sat at Medraut's feet at the table. He would have slept in Medraut's bed if Gwen had allowed it, but here she drew a line.
Medraut never argued, or asked for anything. But sometimes he went downstairs and slept beside Caval in the cellar, and Gwen fretted, for it couldn't be good for the child; but after all she hadn't forbidden it. And the dog seemed to make him happy.
But then Art came home on leave. Caval greeted him in a frenzy of barking, leaping and yapping and wagging his tail, moving so fast that Art, laughing, couldn't get a hold to pet him. And Gwen saw Medraut, standing at the top of the stairs, his sharp thin face wild with jealous rage; and then silent as a shadow he turned and disappeared.
"Where's this Medraut you've written so much about?" Art asked, once Caval had calmed down enough that they could settle down for tea.
"Out with his schoolfriends, I expect," Gwen said lightly. For he did have schoolfriends: he was wizard at cricket (as a neighbor boy explained), and could identify all the planes, "and he never backs down from a fight!" the neighbor boy enthused, spraying crumbs from the slice of seedcake Gwen had given him.
He came home sometimes battered and limping, and wouldn't let Gwen tend to his injuries. There seemed to be no special friend. It was hard to know with Medraut.
When he came back that evening, just before dark, Caval greeted him with his usual wagging tail. Medraut ignored him. As long as Arthur was home on leave, Medraut was out of the house except to sleep; and when Art went back to war, Medraut still refused to pay the dog the least bit of attention.
At last Caval groveled up to him on his belly, resting his head on Medraut's feet, which Medraut drew sharply away. Gwen had stayed out of it till then; but now, with some asperity, she said, "He was Art's dog first."
Medruat looked at her, the wary startled look of a wild animal. Then he looked down at his book again, one of those Biggles books that he devoured. He always held them in an awkward position on his lap, as if to hide the covers, so no one could see what he was reading.
That made it easy to see that he was not turning the pages. At last Gwen got up and went into the kitchen to make tea. She heard the back door open, and then Mordred's short sharp whistle; and after a held-breath pause there was the tinkle of Caval's collar, and the padding of the dog's feet, and the soft click as the back door shut.
They were not back till long after dark. When they returned, Medraut stood before Gwen, so stiffly erect that he shivered with the tension - although it might have been the cold.
"Wear a coat next time," Gwen told him. And then: "Caval can sleep in your bed tonight. Just because it's so cold."