‘Well, for my part, neither would I want it,’ said he.
‘Why?’ asked Anne.
‘Because I know, already, what people say about me.’
Suddenly Giles felt his sister nudge him—apparently to keep him from asking any further questions. Awkwardly they bade the lame boy farewell and proceeded on their way. Anne glanced back over her shoulder to make sure they were beyond Luke’s hearing before she spoke again.
‘I don’t know how I could have been so thoughtless,’ said she when they had reached the far side of the market-place. ‘Of course, the poor boy knows already what people say of him.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Giles, nodding seriously. ‘ “Ugly little imp! Misshapen little brat!”—and so on. Poor Luke! They are a heartless lot, the children of this town. I’d like to punch their heads when I hear them teasing him. Well, it doesn’t seem to me that we have got any farther with our shell, Anne. It’s not so wonderful. Maybe, after all, it doesn’t matter what people say about one?’
‘I wish we could see Agnes again,’ said Anne. ‘Perhaps she would tell us more about it.’
‘I don’t believe she would,’ said Giles. ‘People in fairy stories never tell you much. They just say, for instance, “Take this ring, put it on your father’s finger, and he’ll turn into a black swan.” They never tell you who’s going to feed him or where you’re going to get a lake for him to swim in. You can just take your choice: your father or a black swan. No, people who deal in magic don’t talk much.’
‘But this isn’t magic,’ said Anne. ‘At least,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I don’t think it is. In any case, let us seek out Agnes. It would be fun to meet her again even if she won’t say any more about the shell.’
‘All right,’ said Giles. ‘But for the present we must get home. It’s late.’