Таємничий сад
XXIII. Magic
AtlastColinstopped.
“NowIamgoingtowalkroundthegarden,”heannounced.
BenWeatherstaff’sheadhadjustdroppedforwardandhelifteditwithajerk.
“Youhavebeenasleep,”saidColin.
“Nowto’th’sort,”mumbledBen.“Th’sermonwasgoodenow—butI’mboundtogetoutaforeth’collection.”
Hewasnotquiteawakeyet.
“You’renotinchurch,”saidColin.
“Notme,”saidBen,straighteninghimself.“WhosaidIwere?Iheardeverybitofit.Yousaidth’Magicwasinmyback.Th’doctorcallsitrheumatics.”
TheRajahwavedhishand.
“ThatwasthewrongMagic,”hesaid.“Youwillgetbetter.Youhavemypermissiontogotoyourwork.Butcomebacktomorrow.”
“I’dliketoseetheewalkroundthegarden,”gruntedBen.
Itwasnotanunfriendlygrunt,butitwasagrunt.Infact,beingastubbornoldpartyandnothavingentirefaithinMagichehadmadeuphismindthatifheweresentawayhewouldclimbhisladderandlookoverthewallsothathemightbereadytohobblebackiftherewereanystumbling.
TheRajahdidnotobjecttohisstayingandsotheprocessionwasformed.Itreallydidlooklikeaprocession.ColinwasatitsheadwithDickonononesideandMaryontheother.BenWeatherstaffwalkedbehind,andthe“creatures”trailedafterthem,thelambandthefoxcubkeepingclosetoDickon,thewhiterabbithoppingalongorstoppingtonibbleandSootfollowingwiththesolemnityofapersonwhofelthimselfincharge.
Itwasaprocessionwhichmovedslowlybutwithdignity.Everyfewyardsitstoppedtorest.
