‘Oh, is it?’ remarked Kit.
The bright little eyes were closing sleepily, and the aching bandaged head fell sideways on the pillow.
‘He has only got to kill the giant and rescue the princess now,’ she whispered contentedly. And Kit went on stroking her hand till she was sound asleep.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE RESCUE OF A PRINCESS
Barbara was none the worse for her relapse, and she made such a good recovery in the weeks that followed, that the Doctor decided she could be moved to Crofts on the last day of the holidays. Miss Finlayson vowed she had never enjoyed her Easter holidays so much before for she had persuaded Auntie Anna and the boys to remain her guests the whole time, to save her, as she said, from the horrible feeling of loneliness that always seized her as soon as the last fly went down the drive with the last box on the top of it, and the last girl sitting inside. ‘At my age,’ she told them laughingly, ‘it is not safe to be left alone. Who knows that I might not begin talking about rheumatism and nerves, if I had a whole month to think about myself?’ And Auntie Anna, who never talked about rheumatism by any chance, though it had bent her back for her ten years ago, nodded her head wisely like the old witch that she was, and consented to remain at Wootton Beeches with her adopted daughter and her noisy young nephews until Barbara was well enough to be taken home. The boys, for their part, enjoyed themselves every bit as well as if they had been at Crofts; for Finny was first-rate company as long as she was with them, and she contrived at the same time to leave them to themselves just as much as they wished to be left. And staying at a girls’ school was by no means such poor fun as might have been expected; for it was big enough for them to make as much noise in it as they pleased without disturbing anybody, while they had the run of a capital gymnasium, and, as soon as their bicycles had been brought from Crofts, could explore the country for miles round as well. Altogether, the Easter holidays were a great success, and there were many groans when the month came to an end, and school once more threatened to darken the joy of their existence.
‘You are a lucky beast, Kit,’ observed Peter, as they sat swinging on the yard gate a couple of mornings before their departure. ‘Wish I was you and needn’t go to school.’
‘You wouldn’t like it, if you were me,’ answered Kit, shortly. Nobody ever guessed how much he wished he were like other boys and could lead the healthy life they professed to despise so much.
Wilfred, who had just strolled up, had occasional glimmerings of understanding where Kit was concerned; and he had one now. ‘Never mind, old chap,’ he said consolingly. ‘You’ve got all the genius, you know.’
Christopher kicked a stone across the yard without speaking; and Peter hastened to change the conversation, which he perceived was in danger of becoming serious. Peter never attempted to understand anybody, but he had a determined objection to anything that was serious.