Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/118

‘When did he come?’ Robert asked.

‘Last night; and he was awful. He chased mother with a knife round the house, and we put all the things against the door of our room; and at last I got the children out of the window, and we stopped together in the bush all night. He wanted to kill us all because he said mother———’

‘Mother what?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. . . . Something he said. I was glad when daylight came.’

‘Why didn’t you come up here ?’

‘Mother wanted to go somewhere else, and I said we would come here; and neither of us would give way, so we stopped where we were.’

‘Where is he now?’ Robert asked presently.

‘He’s at home asleep. Of course he will be sorry when he wakes; but what’s the good of that? Oh, Robert!’

‘Well, Lena?’

‘I wish he was dead—I wish he was dead and buried.’

The wish found an echo in Robert’s heart, but he moved uneasily,

‘It’s no good wishing I was dead myself,’ Lena said, looking at him, ‘because that would help nobody; and why should I wish we were all dead rather than him?’

‘It’s a shame, Lena; but I don’t like to hear you say that. Let me do it for you, because there’s no harm in my wishing him dead—and I do!’

There was a long silence.

‘Do you think you will be able to come to-night?’ Robert asked at length.

‘I don’t know—I might—I will try.’