The Obstacle Race | Page 3

a decided pause before his victim spoke. She found some difficulty in grappling with the situation, but she had no intention of turning her back upon it. She felt it must be tackled with resolution.
After a moment she spoke, with as much sternness as she could muster, "Why did you throw those stones?"
He backed at the sound of her voice, and she had an instant of sickening fear, for there was a drop of twenty feet behind him on the shingle. But he must have seen her look, for he stopped himself on the brink, and stood there doggedly.
"Don't stand there!" she said quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you."
He lowered his head, and looked at her from under drawn brows. "Yes, you are," he said gruffly. "You're going to beat me with that stick."
The shrewdness of this surmise struck her as not without humour. She smiled, and, turning, flung the stick straight down to the path below. "Now!" she said.
He came forward, not very willingly, and stood within a couple of yards of her, still looking as if he expected some sort of chastisement.
She faced him, and the last of her fear departed. Though he was so terribly deformed that he looked like some dreadful beast reared on its hind legs there was that about the face, sullen though it was, that stirred her deepest feelings.
She did her best to conceal the fact, however. "Tell me why you threw those stones!" she said.
"Because I wanted to hit you," he returned with disconcerting promptitude.
She looked at him steadily. "How very unkind of you!" she said.
His eyes gleamed with a smouldering resentment. "No, it wasn't. I didn't want you there. Dicky is coming soon, and he likes it best when there is no one there."
She noticed that though there was scant courtesy in his speech, it was by no means the rough talk of the fisher-folk. It fired her curiosity. "And who is Dicky?" she said.
"Who are you?" he retorted rudely.
She smiled again. "You are not very polite, are you? But I don't mind telling you if you want to know. My name is Juliet Moore. Now tell me yours!"
He looked at her doubtfully. "Juliet is a name out of a book," he said.
She laughed, a low, soft laugh that woke an answering glimmer of amusement in his sullen face. "How clever of you to know that!" she said.
"No, I'm not clever." Tersely he contradicted her. "Old Swag at The Three Tuns says I'm the village idiot."
"What a horrid old man!" she exclaimed almost involuntarily.
He nodded his heavy head. "Yes, I knocked him down the other day, and kicked him for it. Dicky caned me afterwards,--I'm not supposed to go to The Three Tuns--but I was glad I'd done it all the same."
"Well, who is Dicky?" she asked again. Her interest was growing.
He glared at her with sudden suspicion. "What do you want to know for?"
"Because I think he must be rather a brave man," she said.
The suspicion vanished. His eyes shown. "Oh, Dicky isn't afraid of anything," he declared with pride. "He's my brother. He knows--heaps of things. He's a man."
"You are fond of him," said Juliet, with her friendly smile.
The boy's face lighted up. "He's the only person I love in the world," he said, "except Mrs. Rickett's baby."
"Mrs. Rickett's baby!" She checked a quick desire to laugh that caught her unawares. "You are fond of babies then?"
"No, I'm not. I like dogs. I don't like babies--except Mrs. Rickett's and he's such a jolly little cuss." He smiled over the words, and again she felt a deep compassion. Somehow his face seemed almost sadder when he smiled.
"I am staying with Mrs. Rickett," she said. "But I only came yesterday, and I haven't made the baby's acquaintance yet. I must get myself introduced. You haven't told me your name yet, you know. Mayn't I hear what it is? I've told you mine."
He looked at her with renewed suspicion. "Hasn't anybody told you about Me yet?" he said.
"No, of course not. Why, I don't know anybody except Mr. and Mrs. Rickett. And it's much more interesting to hear it from yourself."
"Is it?" He hesitated a little longer, but was finally disarmed by the kindness of her smile. "My name is Robin."
"Oh, that's a nice name," Juliet said. "And you live here? What do you do all day?"
"I don't know," he said vaguely. "I can mend fishing-nets, and I can help Dicky in the garden. And I look after Mrs. Rickett's baby sometimes when she's busy. What do you do?" suddenly resuming his attitude of suspicion.
She made a slight gesture of the hands. "Nothing at all worth doing, I am afraid," she said. "I can't mend nets. I don't garden. And I've never looked after a baby in my life."
He stared at