The Tramp and Gypsy, whose efforts had at
length dislodged her awkward bulk, came rolling after. They had been
pushing steadily from behind all this time, though no one had noticed
them slip out.
'_We_ can do more than the smaller folk,' she said proudly, sailing up
to Mother. 'We can't be overlooked, for one thing'; and arm-in-arm,
like a pair of frigates then, they sailed about the room, magnificent
as whales that swim in a phosphorescent sea. The Laugher straightened
up to watch them, the Gardener turned his head, and Rogers and the
children paused a moment in their artificial mixing, to stare with
wonder.
'I'm in!' said the Woman.
'I'm out!' said Mother.
And the children felt a trifle envious. Instantly their brilliance
dimmed a little. The entire room was aware of it.
'Think always of the world in gold and silver,' shot from Mile.
Lemaire. The dimness passed as she said it.
'It was my doing,' laughed Monkey, turning round to acknowledge her
wickedness lest some one else should do it for her and thus increase
her shame.
'Sweep! Sweep!' cried Rogers.
But this thought-created sprite was there before the message flashed.
With his sack wide open, he stood by Monkey, full of importance. A
moment he examined her. Then, his long black fingers darting like a
shuttle, he discovered the false colouring that envy had caused,
picked it neatly out--a thread of dirty grey--and, winding it into a
tiny ball, tossed it with contempt into his sack.
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