Fear

‘No,’ she said, ‘not a bit.’

She wouldn’t be, of course. Everton teased the child with no more questions for the time being, and let her go. She ran off at once to the great empty room, there to seek that uncanny companionship which had come to suffice her.

For the moment Everton was satisfied. Monica was perfectly happy as she was, and had no need of Gladys or, probably, any other child friends. His experiment with her was shaping successfully. She had invented her own young friends, and had gone off eagerly to play with the creations of her own fancy.

This seemed very well at first. Everton reflected that it was just what he would have wished, until he realized suddenly with a little shock of discomfort that it was not normal and it was not healthy.

Although Monica plainly had no great desire to see any more of Gladys Parslow, common civility made it necessary for the Vicar’s little daughter to be asked to pay a return visit. Most likely Gladys Parslow was as unwilling to come as was Monica to entertain her. Stern discipline, however, presented her at the appointed time on an afternoon pre-arranged by correspondence, when Monica received her coldly and with dignity, tempered by a sort of grown-up graciousness.

Monica bore her guest away to the big empty room, and that was the last of Gladys Parslow seen by Everton or Miss Gribbin that afternoon. Monica appeared alone when the gong sounded for tea, and announced in a subdued tone that Gladys had already gone home.

‘Did you quarrel with her?’ Miss Gribbin asked quickly.

‘No-o.’

‘Then why has she gone like this?’

‘She was stupid,’ said Monica, simply. ‘That’s all.’

‘Perhaps it was you who was stupid. Why did she go?’

‘She was frightened.’

‘Frightened!’

‘She didn’t like my friends.’

Miss Gribbin exchanged glances with Everton.

‘She didn’t like a silly girl who talks to herself and imagines things. No wonder she was frightened.’

‘She didn’t think they were real at first, and laughed at me,’ said Monica, sitting down.

‘Naturally!’

‘And then when she saw them –’

Miss Gribbin and Everton interrupted her simultaneously, repeating in unison and with well-matched astonishment, her two last words.

‘And when she saw them,’ Monica continued, unperturbed, ‘she didn’t like it. I think she was frightened. Anyhow, she said she wouldn’t stay and went straight off home. I think she’s a stupid girl. We all had a good laugh about her after she was gone.’

She spoke in her ordinary matter-of-fact tones, and if she were secretly pleased at the state of perturbation into which her last words had obviously thrown Miss Gribbin she gave no sign of it. Miss Gribbin immediately exhibited outward signs of anger.

‘You are a very naughty child to tell such untruths. You know perfectly well that Gladys couldn’t have seen your “friends”. You have simply frightened her by pretending to talk to people who weren’t there, and it will serve you right if she never comes to play with you again.’

‘She won’t,’ said Monica. ‘And she did see them, Miss Gribbin.’

‘How do you know?’ Everton asked.

‘By her face. And she spoke to them too, when she ran to the door. They w

ere very shy at first because Gladys was there. They wouldn’t come for a long time, but I begged them, and at last they did.’

Everton checked another outburst from Miss Gribbin with a look. He wanted to learn more, and to that end he applied some show of patience and gentleness.

‘Where did they come from?’ he asked. ‘From outside the door?’

‘Oh, no. From where they always come.’