Таємничий сад
XVII. A Tantrum
I’vegotbackbonelumpsmyself,andtheyusedtostickoutasmuchasyoursdo,untilIbegantogetfatter,andIamnotfatenoughyettohidethem.There’snotalumpasbigasapin!Ifyoueversaythereisagain,Ishalllaugh!”
NoonebutColinhimselfknewwhateffectthosecrosslyspokenchildishwordshadonhim.Ifhehadeverhadanyonetotalktoabouthissecretterrors—ifhehadeverdaredtolethimselfaskquestions—ifhehadhadchildishcompanionsandhadnotlainonhisbackinthehugeclosedhouse,breathinganatmosphereheavywiththefearsofpeoplewhoweremostofthemignorantandtiredofhim,hewouldhavefoundoutthatmostofhisfrightandillnesswascreatedbyhimself.Buthehadlainandthoughtofhimselfandhisachesandwearinessforhoursanddaysandmonthsandyears.Andnowthatanangryunsympatheticlittlegirlinsistedobstinatelythathewasnotasillashethoughthewasheactuallyfeltasifshemightbespeakingthetruth.
“Ididn’tknow,”venturedthenurse,“thathethoughthehadalumponhisspine.Hisbackisweakbecausehewon’ttrytositup.Icouldhavetoldhimtherewasnolumpthere.”Colingulpedandturnedhisfacealittletolookather.
“C-couldyou?”hesaidpathetically.
“Yes,sir.”
“There!”saidMary,andshegulpedtoo.
Colinturnedonhisfaceagainandbutforhislong-drawnbrokenbreaths,whichwerethedyingdownofhisstormofsobbing,helaystillforaminute,thoughgreattearsstreameddownhisfaceandwetthepillow.Actuallythetearsmeantthatacuriousgreatreliefhadcometohim.
