Christopher’s eyes shone with delight.
“I do hear.... And the dwarf never stops, does he?”
“Never,” said Anne convincingly, though she was not quite sure herself, “he never stops, but we must not talk about it to the grown-ups.”
Christopher repeated religiously:
“The grown-ups must never know. And this is truly true, isn’t it? Grandpa has said it too, hasn’t he?”
Anne remembered that grandpa never told stories about dwarfs and fairies.
“Yes, Grandpa has said it,” the boy confirmed himself.
The whole thing got mixed up in Anne’s brain. And from that moment both believed absolutely that their grandfather had said it and that it was really a dwarf who walked in the room, hobbling with small steps, without ever stopping. Tick-tack....
“Do you hear it?”
The peaceful silence of the corridor echoed the ticking of the clock. It could even be heard on the staircase which sank like a cave from the corridor to the hall. And then the dwarf vanished out of the children’s heads.