The Magic City | Page 3

one always comes--and then it's broken to the family.'
'What is?' she asked.
'The misfortune,' said Philip breathlessly. 'Oh, Helen, I'm not a baby.
Do tell me! Have we lost our money in a burst bank? Or is the landlord
going to put bailiffs into our furniture? Or are we going to be falsely
accused about forgery, or being burglars?'
All the books Philip had ever read worked together in his mind to
produce these melancholy suggestions. Helen laughed, and instantly
felt a stiffening withdrawal of her brother from her arm.
'No, no, my Pippin, dear,' she made haste to say. 'Nothing horrid like
that has happened.'

'Then what is it?' he asked, with a growing impatience that felt like a
wolf gnawing inside him.
'I didn't want to tell you all in a hurry like this,' she said anxiously; 'but
don't you worry, my boy of boys. It's something that makes me very
happy. I hope it will you, too.'
He swung round in the circling of her arm and looked at her with
sudden ecstasy.
'Oh, Helen, dear--I know! Some one has left you a hundred thousand
pounds a year--some one you once opened a railway-carriage door
for--and now I can have a pony of my very own to ride. Can't I?'
'Yes,' said Helen slowly, 'you can have a pony; but nobody's left me
anything. Look here, my Pippin,' she added, very quickly, 'don't ask
any more questions. I'll tell you. When I was quite little like you I had a
dear friend I used to play with all day long, and when we grew up we
were friends still. He lived quite near us. And then he married some one
else. And then the some one died. And now he wants me to marry him.
And he's got lots of horses and a beautiful house and park,' she added.
'And where shall I be?' he asked.
'With me, of course, wherever I am.'
'It won't be just us two any more, though,' said Philip, 'and you said it
should be, for ever and ever.'
'But I didn't know then, Pip, dear. He's been wanting me so long----'
'Don't I want you?' said Pip to himself.
'And he's got a little girl that you'll like so to play with,' she went on.
'Her name's Lucy, and she's just a year younger than you. And you'll be
the greatest friends with her. And you'll both have ponies to ride,
and----'
'I hate her,' cried Philip, very loud, 'and I hate him, and I hate their

beastly ponies. And I hate you!' And with these dreadful words he flung
off her arm and rushed out of the room, banging the door after him--on
purpose.
Well, she found him in the boot-cupboard, among the gaiters and
goloshes and cricket-stumps and old rackets, and they kissed and cried
and hugged each other, and he said he was sorry he had been naughty.
But in his heart that was the only thing he was sorry for. He was sorry
that he had made Helen unhappy. He still hated 'that man,' and most of
all he hated Lucy.
He had to be polite to that man. His sister was very fond of that man,
and this made Philip hate him still more, while at the same time it made
him careful not to show how he hated him. Also it made him feel that
hating that man was not quite fair to his sister, whom he loved. But
there were no feelings of that kind to come in the way of the detestation
he felt for Lucy. Helen had told him that Lucy had fair hair and wore it
in two plaits; and he pictured her to himself as a fat, stumpy little girl,
exactly like the little girl in the story of 'The Sugar Bread' in the old
oblong 'Shock-Headed Peter' book that had belonged to Helen when
she was little.
Helen was quite happy. She divided her love between the boy she loved
and the man she was going to marry, and she believed that they were
both as happy as she was. The man, whose name was Peter Graham,
was happy enough; the boy, who was Philip, was amused--for she kept
him so--but under the amusement he was miserable.
And the wedding-day came and went. And Philip travelled on a very
hot afternoon by strange trains and a strange carriage to a strange house,
where he was welcomed by a strange nurse and--Lucy.
'You won't mind going to stay at Peter's beautiful house without me,
will you, dear?' Helen had asked. 'Every one will be kind to you, and
you'll have Lucy to play with.'
And Philip said he didn't mind. What else could he say, without being
naughty and making Helen