Dickon grinned sweet-temperedly.
It was just like her, what she said, he answered. She give my head a
bit of a rub an laughed an she says, Eh, lad, tha can have all th
secrets tha likes. I ve knowed thee twelve year .
How did you know about Colin? asked Mary.
Everybody as knowed about Mester Craven knowed there was a little lad
as was like to be a cripple, an they knowed Mester Craven didn t like
him to be talked about. Folks is sorry for Mester Craven because Mrs.
Craven was such a pretty young lady an they was so fond of each other.
Mrs. Medlock stops in our cottage whenever she goes to Thwaite an she
doesn t mind talkin to mother before us children, because she knows us
has been brought up to be trusty. How did tha find out about him?
Martha was in fine trouble th last time she came home. She said tha d
heard him frettin an tha was askin questions an she didn t know
what to say.
Mary told him her story about the midnight wuthering of the wind which
had wakened her and about the faint far-off sounds of the complaining
voice which had led her down the dark corridors with her candle and had
ended with her opening of the door of the dimly lighted room with the
carven four-posted bed in the corner. When she described the small
ivory-white face and the strange black-rimmed eyes Dickon shook his
head.
Them s just like his mother s eyes, only hers was always laughin ,
they say, he said. They say as Mr. Craven can t bear to see him when
he s awake an it s because his eyes is so like his mother s an yet
looks so different in his miserable bit of a face.
Do you think he wants to die? whispered Mary.
No, but he wishes he d never been born. Mother she says that s th
worst thing on earth for a child. Them as is not wanted scarce ever
thrives. Mester Craven he d buy anythin as money could buy for th
poor lad but he d like to forget as he s on earth. For one thing, he s
afraid he ll look at him some day and find he s growed hunchback.
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