Curiosity increased.
“I suppose one ought not to say,” said Mrs. Geedge, “and yet—why shouldn’t one?”
“Exactly,” said Professor Bowles, and every one drew a little nearer to Mrs. Geedge.
“One can’t help being amused,” she said. “It was so—extraordinary.”
“Is it something about the Captain?” asked Madeleine.
“Yes. You see,—he didn’t see me.”
“Is he—is he writing poetry?” Madeleine was much entertained and relieved at the thought. That would account for everything. The poor dear! He hadn’t been able to find some rhyme!
But one gathered from the mysterious airs of Mrs. Geedge that he was not writing poetry. “You see,” she said, “I was lying out there among the bushes, just jotting down a few little things,—and he came by. And he went down into the hollow out of sight.... And what do you think he is doing? You’d never guess? He’s been at it for twenty minutes.”
They didn’t guess.
“He’s playing with little bits of paper—Oh! like a kitten plays with dead leaves. He throws them up—and they flutter to the ground—and then he pounces on them.”