Well, well, he said to himself as he hurriedly changed his coat,
what s to do now? His Royal Highness that wasn t to be looked at
calling up a man he s never set eyes on.
Mr. Roach was not without curiosity. He had never caught even a glimpse
of the boy and had heard a dozen exaggerated stories about his uncanny
looks and ways and his insane tempers. The thing he had heard oftenest
was that he might die at any moment and there had been numerous
fanciful descriptions of a humped back and helpless limbs, given by
people who had never seen him.
Things are changing in this house, Mr. Roach, said Mrs. Medlock, as
she led him up the back staircase to the corridor on to which opened
the hitherto mysterious chamber.
Let s hope they re changing for the better, Mrs. Medlock, he
answered.
They couldn t well change for the worse, she continued; and queer as
it all is there s them as finds their duties made a lot easier to stand
up under. Don t you be surprised, Mr. Roach, if you find yourself in
the middle of a menagerie and Martha Sowerby s Dickon more at home than
you or me could ever be.
There really was a sort of Magic about Dickon, as Mary always privately
believed. When Mr. Roach heard his name he smiled quite leniently.
He d be at home in Buckingham Palace or at the bottom of a coal mine,
he said. And yet it s not impudence, either. He s just fine, is that
lad.
It was perhaps well he had been prepared or he might have been
startled. When the bedroom door was opened a large crow, which seemed
quite at home perched on the high back of a carven chair, announced the
entrance of a visitor by saying Caw Caw quite loudly. In spite of
Mrs. Medlock s warning, Mr. Roach only just escaped being sufficiently
undignified to jump backward.
The young Rajah was neither in bed nor on his sofa. He was sitting in
an armchair and a young lamb was standing by him shaking its tail in
165