Books > Old Books > Midnight Tales (1946)


Page 113

SAMBO

In among the brown sticks, I caught sight of a white dress. I bent low and followed. Janey was some fifteen yards ahead of me. In her arms she was clasping a doll. She was sobbing bitterly.
Through the raspberry canes I followed her-along a little track that had not been there a fortnight before, over an open space which in autumn was trenched for celery, past the deserted graveyard where generations of cats and dogs had been laid to rest, to the very end of the long garden.
It was a deserted place given over to rubbish, broken flowerpots, piles of old pea-sticks, and mounds of yellow rotting grass cut from the lawns last summer. I hid myself behind a turf stack and watched.
On a chair that Arthur had given Janey three birthdays ago, sat Sambo, wearing his usual expression of utter vacuity. About a yard in front of him was a pile of straw and dried twigs; within reach was the silver matchbox I had spent hours in hunting for the previous two days. There was also a little saw from my tool chest.
I ground my teeth as I noticed the rusty blade. Janey placed her doll on the ground, cried over it and kissed it. Then before I realized what she was doing she had sawn off its legs and arms, and placed its dismembered trunk upon the wooden pyre. From the tennis lawn came Mary's voice calling `Janey! Janey!'
It is no easy matter to strike matches on an old silver matchbox from which the roughness has long since departed. She was successful at last, and in a moment there was a blaze. The dried wood crackled with the heat. Then again came Mary's voice louder and more persistent, and Janey was gone.
I lit a cigarette, and watched the fire die down, controlling with difficulty an impulse to add more fuel to it in the person of Sambo. Before I left the place, I found the charred remains of eight dolls. One which I took to be Eric was hideous to behold, his head was featureless, one glass eye protruding from a lump of wax.
I made my way back to the house as stealthily as I had come. Under my coat I carried Sambo.

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE In among what is brown sticks, I caught sight of a white dress. I bent low and followed. Janey was some fifteen yards ahead of me. In her arms she was clasping a doll. She was sobbing bitterly. Through what is raspberry canes I followed her-along a little track that had not been there a fortnight before, over an open space which in autumn was trenched for celery, past what is deserted graveyard where generations of cats and dogs had been laid to rest, to what is very end of what is long garden. It was a deserted place given over to rubbish, broken flowerpots, piles of old pea-sticks, and mounds of yellow rotting grass cut from what is lawns last summer. I hid myself behind a turf stack and watched. On a chair that Arthur had given Janey three birthdays ago, sat Sambo, wearing his usual expression of utter vacuity. About a yard in front of him was a pile of straw and dried twigs; within reach was what is silver matchbox I had spent hours in hunting for what is previous two days. There was also a little saw from my tool chest. I ground my teeth as I noticed what is rusty blade. Janey placed her doll on what is ground, cried over it and kissed it. Then before I realized what she was doing she had sawn off its legs and arms, and placed its dismembered trunk upon what is wooden pyre. From what is tennis lawn came Mary's voice calling `Janey! Janey!' It is no easy matter to strike matches on an old silver matchbox from which what is roughness has long since departed. She was successful at last, and in a moment there was a blaze. what is dried wood crackled with what is heat. Then again came Mary's voice louder and more persistent, and Janey was gone. I lit a cigarette, and watched what is fire travel down, controlling with difficulty an impulse to add more fuel to it in what is person of Sambo. Before I left what is place, I found what is charred remains of eight dolls. One which I took to be Eric was hideous to behold, his head was featureless, one glass eye protruding from a lump of wax. I made my way back to what is house as stealthily as I had come. Under my coat I carried Sambo. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Midnight Tales (1946) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 113 where is p align="center" where is strong SAMBO where is p align="justify" In among what is brown sticks, I caught sight of a white dress. I bent low and followed. Janey was some fifteen yards ahead of me. In her arms she was clasping a doll. She was sobbing bitterly. Through what is raspberry canes I followed her-along a little track that had not been there a fortnight before, over an open space which in autumn was trenched for celery, past what is deserted graveyard where generations of cats and dogs had been laid to rest, to the very end of what is long garden. It was a deserted place given over to rubbish, broken flowerpots, piles of old pea-sticks, and mounds of yellow rotting grass cut from what is lawns last summer. I hid myself behind a turf stack and watched. On a chair that Arthur had given Janey three birthdays ago, sat Sambo, wearing his usual expression of utter vacuity. About a yard in front of him was a pile of straw and dried twigs; within reach was what is silver matchbox I had spent hours in hunting for what is previous two days. There was also a little saw from my tool chest. I ground my teeth as I noticed what is rusty blade. Janey placed her doll on what is ground, cried over it and kissed it. Then before I realized what she was doing she had sawn off its legs and arms, and placed its dismembered trunk upon what is wooden pyre. From the tennis lawn came Mary's voice calling `Janey! Janey!' It is no easy matter to strike matches on an old silver matchbox from which what is roughness has long since departed. She was successful at last, and in a moment there was a blaze. what is dried wood crackled with what is heat. Then again came Mary's voice louder and more persistent, and Janey was gone. I lit a cigarette, and watched what is fire travel down, controlling with difficulty an impulse to add more fuel to it in what is person of Sambo. Before I left what is place, I found what is charred remains of eight dolls. One which I took to be Eric was hideous to behold, his head was featureless, one glass eye protruding from a lump of wax. I made my way back to what is house as stealthily as I had come. Under my coat I carried Sambo. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Midnight Tales (1946) books

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