The Serpent in the Glass (The Tale of Thomas Farrell) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Thomas to remove the contents. Thomas reached in and pulled out the fist-sized bundle with one hand and the envelope with the other. The cloth was tattered and dirty and the object inside round and hard. The envelope bore similar words as the one that had held the key. It read:
To Master Thomas Farrell .
    But it was, to Thomas’s surprise, not written in the same hand. He could tell. He had studied the other envelope’s words, followed their curves and lines with his eyes every night since Mr Bartholomew’s visit, until sleep had taken him.
    Mr Westhrop, looking somewhat disappointed, thanked the clerk, as did Mrs Westhrop. Jessica, however, didn’t thank anyone because she was too busy staring at the bundle in Thomas’s hand, no doubt trying to imagine what it could be.
    As soon as they’d left the bank Mr Westhrop took the bundle and envelope from Thomas, telling him he’d keep them safe. Once back in the car, Mr Westhrop handed the bundle and envelope back to Thomas. Thomas held them, one in each hand, while Mr Westhrop continued to look at him. ‘Well, let’s not be all day about it.’
    Thomas nodded and put the envelope on his lap. He would’ve liked to open them in private, but it seemed Mr Westhrop wasn’t going to permit that. He was lucky Mr Westhrop allowed him to open them at all. But he hesitated to unwrap the bundle, though he didn’t know why. Dismissing his unfounded fears, he quickly removed the layers of old cloth from the object within — and promptly dropped the latter when he saw what it was.
    ‘Careful, it might be valuable!’ Mr Westhrop barked.
    A glass sphere, a little larger in size than a golf ball, now rested on the backseat of the car between Jessica and Thomas. But it was what it contained that had made Thomas drop it, for suspended in its centre hung a snake, or something that looked very much like one.
    Jonathan Westhrop held out his hand. ‘Give it here.’
    Thomas picked it up gingerly and handed it over.
    ‘Hmph,’ Mr Westhrop grunted, examining the snake-like creature within, ‘nothing more than some family heirloom I’d guess. Probably worthless.’
    Mrs Westhrop eyed it with a look of disgust as her husband dropped it back into Thomas’s hand. ‘Open the envelope then.’
    After hurriedly putting the glass orb back in the cloth, Thomas put it down between his legs and opened the envelope. Inside he found two sheets of paper. Jessica’s eyes played upon them, clearly as eager as Thomas to know their contents.
    Mr Westhrop tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Well, what does it say?’
    The front sheet consisted of a short letter, but it wasn’t from his father. He read it out:
Dear Thomas,
I have been instructed by the representative of your late father’s estate to provide an education for you at Darkledun Manor, School for Gifted Children. I am glad to inform you that this has been paid, and a place is open to you as of your eleventh birthday. A sum has also been arranged to compensate any legal guardian(s).
I enclose all necessary details regarding Darkledun Manor, which you should show your legal guardian(s) without delay.
Yours Most Sincerely,
M. Trevelyan, Head.
Darkledun Manor
    Before he could look at the details to which this Mr M. Trevelyan referred, Mr J. Westhrop had grabbed them along with the letter.
    Jessica sat forward, eyes bright, not a hint of weariness in her appearance. ‘What’s it mean?’
    ‘It means,’ Mr Westhrop began with that familiar look of glee in his eyes, ‘that your good mother and I will finally have some compensation for our challenges over the last few years. Which is, of course, quite right and proper.’
    But Thomas, lost in thought, didn’t hear Mr Westhrop. When younger, Thomas thought his father might visit one day, but when the visits never came Thomas began to accept that his father was no longer alive. Thomas may not have remembered what his father looked like, but he did remember the feeling of strength