But only half of the audience heard her. Master Jack was fast asleep.
“I thought I made up a very good story,” I said hurriedly, fearing the opportunity would pass.
“You see, fairy stories are better each time they are told over—and that’s why they must always be kept the same.”
We lowered our voices.
“I thought for a moment you—” I caught myself. “I beg your pardon; I was going to ask you a personal question, and I know you don’t like that.”
“You thought I disliked children, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Why, yes—”
“It was not that. Memories—” She checked herself, frowning.
“Of course. I understand,” I said hurriedly, as I saw the old expression of sadness cloud her face. “I am sorry. Don’t you want me to take the youngster? He is rather heavy.”