They went away together, taking cradle and all. All of a sudden they seemed as energetic as sparrows. They seemed for the moment really indifferent to Everychild, who remained in his chair alone.
When they had gone he leaned forward in an elegant yet somewhat dejected attitude, his hands clasped between his knees. Then he arose, shrugging his shoulders as if a burden were clinging to them, and turned toward the Masked Lady.
"What are you doing?" he asked wonderingly.
She set free a fine dove, which immediately disappeared through the window.
"I am getting ready for a very important journey," she said.
He watched her intently. Presently he said, in a strange, abashed tone, "You seem a very nice, kind lady, after all!"
She did not reply to this, because a dove came in at that instant and she busied herself placing it in its compartment in the cote.
He continued to regard her, though he was now studying her face, rather than taking note of her work with the doves. "Sometimes," he continued falteringly, "I have a wish to speak to you—I mean, to tell you of things which I cannot speak of to others."
"I have tried always, Everychild, to be close to you," she said.
For an instant it seemed to him that it would not be difficult at all to speak to her of what was in his heart. And he said, "You know I—I am not very happy."