“Do away, me not do wid you, me fader’s boy,” said little Job, as Katherine exerted her persuasions to bring him downstairs.
“That is quite true, Job; but father has not come back yet. Come downstairs with me, and we shall see him come back.”
Job answered with a kick from the little boot which had just come in somewhat muddy from a walk—a kick which, as it happened to touch a tender point, elicited from Katherine a little cry. The child backed against the ayah, holding her fast; then glared at Katherine with eyes in which malice mingled with fright. “Me dlad to hurt you, me dlad to hurt you!” he cried. It was evident that he expected a blow.
“It is a pity to hurt anyone,” said Katherine; “but if it has made you glad you shouldn’t be cross. Come with me downstairs.”
“I hate you,” said the child. “You punith me moment I let ayah do.”
“No, I shall not punish you. I shall only take you downstairs to see your pretty mamma, and wait till father comes back. I think I hear the dog-cart now. Hark! that is your father now.”
The child ran to the window with a flush of eagerness. “Lift me up, lift me up!” he cried. It did not matter to him who did this so long as he got his will; and though he hit with his heels against Katherine’s dress, he did not kick her again. “Fader, fader—me’s fader’s boy!” cried little Job. The little countenance changed; it was no longer that of a little gnome, but caught an angelic reflection. He waved his thin small arms over his head from Katharine’s arms. “Fader, fader—Fader’s tome back! Job’s good boy!” he cried. Then the little waving arm struck against Katherine’s head, and he paused to look at her. The expression of his face changed again. A quiver of fierce terror came upon it; he was in the power of a malignant being stronger than himself. He looked at her with a sort of impotent, disappointed fury. “Put me down, and I’ll not kick you no more,” he said.
“Certainly I’ll put you down. Will you come with me now and meet your father?” Katherine said.
He had his hand ready to seize her hair, to defend himself, but shrunk away when she put him down without any more expressions of animosity, and ran for the head of the staircase. At that dreadful passage, however, the little creature paused. He was afraid for the descent; the hall was not yet lighted up below, and it seemed a well of darkness into which it was not wonderful that so small a being should be terrified to go down. “Is fader there?” he said to Katherine, “will they hurt fader?” There were vaguely visible forms in the hall, a gleam of vague daylight from the doorway, and then it became dreadfully apparent to Job that something must have happened to fader, who had disappeared within the drawing-room. “Dhey have swallowed him up—Dhey have eaten him up!” he cried. “Oh, fader, fader!” with a frantic shout, clinging to Katherine’s knees.
“No, no, my little boy. Your father has not been hurt. Come, we’ll go down and find him,” Katherine said. When they were nearly at the foot of the stairs, during which time he had clung to her with a little hot grip, half piteous half painful, there suddenly sprung up in the dark hall below, at the lighting of the lamp, a gleam of bright light, and Sir Charles became visible at the foot of the stairs, coming towards them. The child gave a shriek of joy and whirled himself from the top of some half-dozen steps into his father’s arms. “You’re not eated up,” he said; “fader, fader! Job fader’s boy.”