“All but me,” said Creepy, nodding at the doctor, with eyes still fixed upon his face.
“All but you; you thought this was your place, and kept it, eh? Well, it’s not every one who has wisdom for that, though we all have our places in the world, if we could but find them.”
“All but me,” said Creepy, nodding again.
The doctor shot another glance into his face. “You’re very much mistaken,” he said; and then turning to pull more grasses, added suddenly, “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“I never go anywhere.”
“And why not?” asked the doctor, tossing the seeds out into the air again. “What would happen if you were to go? A pain here and there? A pain in that back, for instance?”
The eyes answered again.
“And not a new pain? A pain that comes quite often, and stays as long as it likes—is there at this very moment, perhaps?”
Creepy nodded, but he could not have spoken for his life. It seemed to him he was talking face to face with a magician. How should he know, when the people in the house were never told, could only guess, and he had seen none of them this morning.
“And don’t you know that’s all wrong?” went on the doctor. “Other boys of your age play in the sunshine every hour they can get out from the schoolmaster’s clutches.”