“Well, she is severe,” thought Kitty; “but she is right.”
She watched the old woman with the load of children under each arm striding down a long road that led away from Daddy Coax’s door.
“That must be the way to Punishment Land. Oh! I should like to see that land!” cried Kitty.
Daddy Coax, bruised, tattered, looking as if he had just come out of a dreadful railway accident, was picking up, with trembling hands, the fragments of his broken flute. Kitty ran to him, helped him in his search; then led him gently back to his chair, threw her arms round his neck, and gave him a kiss.
“Good-by, dear Daddy Coax, I am going to Punishment Land—just for a peep.”
She heard him give an exclamation of remonstrance; but she would not stop to listen. She ran out into the road.
CHAPTER VII
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STREAM.
As Kitty darted out of the door she could see the old woman going on with her burden of kicking children tucked under each arm. It was by no means easy to follow her tall, bony, wiry figure, for she went at a great pace, as though she had a very important duty to do, and meant to do it. The children might kick their shoes off, but on she went. She was never very distinct, yet she never entirely vanished. The road was long and straight; over it hung a mist that seemed to be getting deeper and thicker. Kitty ran along, her eyes fixed upon the old woman’s back; but she stalked on so fast there was no catching her up. At once she vanished. The country around was gray and dreary, not a tree, not a house anywhere, nothing but a gray marshy-looking plain. A little stream gurgled along, not with a happy murmur as if it were telling joyous secrets to itself; but glug—glug, as if it were sobbing in the dimness. Kitty jumped over the stream and cleared it at a leap. A few frogs croaked. What with the “croak—croak” of the frogs, and the sob—sob of the water, it was quite enough to make any one weep.