Midnight is a Place Read Online Free PDF Page B

that the hour might be somewhat late to disturb the newcomer, but his eagerness and his loneliness were too great to bear any delay. A companion! A friend with whom he could share lessons and exercises, a friend to talk to, read with, accompany on scrambles up Grimside, the great black hill to the north of the town—perhaps even farther. If the other boy was older, and sensible, they might, at holiday time, be allowed to take the governess cart out by themselves with food for the day. They could go fishing or crag climbing, things Lucas had never done but dreamed of doing. They might even get as far as the sea. They could play tennis and battledore in the old tumbledown court; they could climb the sooty chestnuts and explore the old icehouse in the park—there seemed no end to the possibilities that might be achieved, with a real companion.
    In the most secret corner of his mind, Lucas already had such a companion, an invented one. When he went out for his solitary trudge across Midnight Park to the town moor, when he munched his lonely meals, when he lay sleepless at night with the silence of the house around him, words inside his head automatically flowed into an accustomed pattern:
    Once upon a time, Lucas and Greg started out for a walk. They had left their horses behind for once, because they were going to cross the dangerous quagmire known as Scroop Moss; in their knapsacks they carried a scanty but sufficient repast of bread, dried meat, and a handful of dates; their quest was to locate the huge and dreadful monster said to lurk at the bottom of Grydale Water....
    The features of Greg were as clear to Lucas in his mind's eye as those of Sir Randolph or Mr. Oakapple. Greg was tall, with dark hair and blue eyes; he was fifteen or sixteen, quick-minded, with a ready smile, fond of riding, reading, and swimming, better at some things than Lucas—algebra; knew more about wild birds and music, but didn't know so much French and couldn't draw so well....
    Of course it would be stupid to hope that the exact image of Greg would be waiting in the Oak Chamber. Lucas knew better than that, but still—And whatever he was like, almost certainly the poor fellow would want cheering up, Lucas thought, knocking gently on the door, remembering his own solitary and uncomforted days when he had first arrived at Midnight Court, the period of utter misery before even Mr. Oakapple had been brought in to instruct him.
    I'll just go and introduce myself, he thought, simply say a friendly word or two, and then I'll leave him to sleep. He's possibly come a long way. I wonder where from?
    He knocked at the chamber door. To his great surprise he heard Mrs. Gourd's voice rather tartly bidding whoever it was to come in and not make too much noise about it.
    Lucas turned the handle and entered. The Oak Chamber was one of the few bedrooms in which any furniture was left. What remained was somewhat stiff and old-fashioned: a four-poster bed with thick dark hangings, an iron-bound chest, a carved oak grandfather clock, a high chair, a large old clothespress; the walls were covered by aged, worn tapestries over which Lucas had occasionally exercised his mind, if Pinhorn chanced to be in a good mood and let him in while she cleaned the room, but he had never decided to his own satisfaction if the embroidered scenes depicted Hannibal crossing the Alps or the Israelites crossing the Red Sea.
    The Oak Chamber was looking slightly more cheerful than usual, due to the fact that a bright fire blazed on the hearth. In other respects the somewhat somber furnishings were unchanged. But an air of gay disorder was given by the quantity of clothes and belongings which were strewn about the room. Several boxes, uncorded, spilled their contents onto the carpet; traveling wraps hung over chairs; hairbrushes and shoes lay scattered at random; a bottle of rosewater, set down by the fireside, sparkled in the light of the flames; a canary in a half-covered