Leonie of the Jungle | Page 2

silk legs to and fro, her eyes dancing, her lips parted over the
even little teeth.
"I love sweets!" said she. "You begin!"

"My car's grey!" said Sir Jonathan Cuxson. "What colour are your
dreams?"
"Black!" was the unexpectedly decisive reply. "Black with lots of
wed--wet wed--and gween eyes--lots and lots of eyes--and--and soft
things I can't see, and--noises like kit--kit--kitty makes when she
purrs!"
"Yes?"
"Yes! and people with soft feet like the--the slippers Nannie wears at
night so that I can't hear them. And--and that's all!"
She laughed like the child she ought to have been as she bit the end off
a big pink fondant which had materialised out of one of a dozen little
drawers in the desk, then holding up the other end to the man laughed
again spontaneously and delightfully as he pushed the sweet into her
mouth.
Then he put her on her feet, tilted the little white face back till the
strong light shone into the opalescent, gold-flecked eyes, kissed the
curly head and told her to run round the room, open the cabinet doors
and look at the hidden treasures.
"May I touch them?"
"Of course, sweetheart!"
"I'm vewy sowwy you didn't win," she said in her old-fashioned way,
"because you are vewy, vewy nice. And"--she continued, suddenly
harking hack as a child will to a previous remark--"and it is all vewy,
vewy black, with a teeny, weeny light like the night-light Nannie lights,
and----!"
She stopped dead and buried her head in the middle of Sir Jonathan's
waistcoat, fumbling his coat sleeves with her nervous little hands.
"Yes, darling!" said the man, without a trace of expression in his voice

as he held up a finger warningly to the woman who had rustled in her
chair.
"And--and sometimes there's a black woman. And I'm--I'm fwightened
of her 'cause she calls me, and--and--pulls me out of bed by my head."
"How do you mean, darling? Does she catch hold of your hair? It must
hurt you dreadfully!"
Leonie suddenly stood up, nervously pulling at the man's top waistcoat
button as she furtively glanced first over one shoulder and then over the
other.
"No! she doesn't touch me," she faltered, "and I--I don't always see her.
But--but"--she laid her open palm against her forehead in a curious
little gesture suggestive of the East--"but she pulls me through my
forehead, and when she pulls I've--I've got to go! May I hold that
elephant?"
The brain specialist looked straight into the strange eyes which smiled
confidingly back into his.
"Just a moment, sweetheart," said he. "What do your little friends, and
Nannie, and Auntie say when you tell them about the dreams?"
Leonie leant listlessly against the arm of the chair, and sighed as she
flashed a lightning glance at her aunt who was turning over a periodical
on a table by her side.
"I don't tell Nannie because I think she wouldn't weally understand,
and--and----"
Silence.
"Well, darling?"
"Auntie," she spoke in the merest whisper, "got awful cwoss the first
time I did tell her. She was going out to a dance, and I was telling her
whilst she was dwessing--it was a lovely dwess all sparkles and little

wosebuds--and I upset a bottle of scent over her gloves. The scent too
was like my dweams, just like--like--oh! I don't know, and I haven't
any!"
Once more the man intuitively bridged the gulf.
"No little friends? How's that?"
"Bimba died," she announced casually. "She liked books, too. It's vewy
silly thinking dolls are babies, isn't it; that's why I love weading, it--it
seems weal!"
Lady Hetth broke in hurriedly.
"We simply can't keep her away from books when she's in town. Of
course when we are in the country she simply lives out of doors. It is
very difficult to keep her amused. She sulks when she goes to a party
and always wants to go home!"
"I don't sulk weally, Auntie, I jus'--jus' don' seem to know how to
play!"
She smiled a wan little smile at the woman who had no children of her
own, and moved away slowly with a backward doggy look at the man.
"Good God!" he muttered. "Will you come here, Lady Hetth!"
CHAPTER II
"When your fear cometh as a desolation."--The Bible.
Susan Hetth rose.
She had always intensely disliked her brother-in-law's old friend,
failing utterly to perceive the heart of gold studded with rare gems that
was hidden under a bushel of intentional brusqueness.
But as she was under an obligation to him she decided to make herself
as pleasant as possible, and to obey his orders, however irksome.

Great brain specialist, great philanthropist, she had rung him up in a
panic that morning after having vainly ransacked her memory for some
other human being in whom she could