“He wasn’t vexed,” said Mary.  “I asked him if I should go away and he made me stay.  He asked me questions and I sat on a big footstool and talked to him about India and about the robin and gardens.  He wouldn’t let me go.  He let me see his mother’s picture.  Before I left him I sang him to sleep.”

Martha fairly gasped with amazement.

“I can scarcely believe thee!” she protested.  “It’s as if tha’d walked straight into a lion’s den.  If he’d been like he is most times he’d have throwed himself into one of his tantrums and roused th’ house.  He won’t let strangers look at him.”

“He let me look at him.  I looked at him all the time and he looked at me.  We stared!” said Mary.

“I don’t know what to do!” cried agitated Martha.  “If Mrs. Medlock finds out, she’ll think I broke orders and told thee and I shall be packed back to mother.”

“He is not going to tell Mrs. Medlock anything about it yet.  It’s to be a sort of secret just at first,” said Mary firmly.  “And he says everybody is obliged to do as he pleases.”

“Aye, that’s true enough—­th’ bad lad!” sighed Martha, wiping her forehead with her apron.

“He says Mrs. Medlock must.  And he wants me to come and talk to him every day.  And you are to tell me when he wants me.”

“Me!” said Martha; “I shall lose my place—­I shall for sure!”

“You can’t if you are doing what he wants you to do and everybody is ordered to obey him,” Mary argued.

“Does tha’ mean to say,” cried Martha with wide open eyes, “that he was nice to thee!”

“I think he almost liked me,” Mary answered.

“Then tha’ must have bewitched him!” decided Martha, drawing a long breath.

“Do you mean Magic?” inquired Mary.  “I’ve heard about Magic in India, but I can’t make it.  I just went into his room and I was so surprised to see him I stood and stared.  And then he turned round and stared at me.  And he thought I was a ghost or a dream and I thought perhaps he was.  And it was so queer being there alone together in the middle of the night and not knowing about each other.  And we began to ask each other questions.  And when I asked him if I must go away he said I must not.”

“Th’ world’s comin’ to a end!” gasped Martha.

“What is the matter with him?” asked Mary.

“Nobody knows for sure and certain,” said Martha.  “Mr. Craven went off his head like when he was born.  Th’ doctors thought he’d have to be put in a ’sylum.  It was because Mrs. Craven died like I told you.  He wouldn’t set eyes on th’ baby.  He just raved and said it’d be another hunchback like him and it’d better die.”

“Is Colin a hunchback?” Mary asked.  “He didn’t look like one.”

“He isn’t yet,” said Martha.  “But he began all wrong.  Mother said that there was enough trouble and raging in th’ house to set any child wrong.  They was afraid his back was weak an’ they’ve always been takin’ care of it—­keepin’ him lyin’ down and not lettin’ him walk.  Once they made him wear a brace but he fretted so he was downright ill.  Then a big doctor came to see him an’ made them take it off.  He talked to th’ other doctor quite rough—­in a polite way.  He said there’d been too much medicine and too much lettin’ him have his own way.”