I can walk now."
He ran to the door of the caravan; of course it took Anton but a
moment to overtake him, to catch him by his arm, and, shaking him
violently, to lead him to an inner room, into which he flung the poor
child, telling him roughly that he had better stay quiet and make no
fuss, or it would be worse for him.
Little Maurice raised impotent hands, beating Anton with all his
small might. Anton laughed derisively. He turned the key on the angry
and aggrieved child and left him to his fate.
Poor little Maurice! It was his first real experience of the
roughness of life. Hitherto Cecile had come between him and all hard
times; hitherto, whatever hardships there were to bear, Cecile had
borne them. It seemed to be the natural law of life to little Maurice
that everyone should shield and shelter him.
He threw himself now on the dirty floor of the caravan and cried
until he could cry no longer. Oh, how he longed for Cecile! How he
repented of his foolish running away that morning! How he hated
Anton! But in vain were his tears and lamentations; no one came near
him, and at last from utter weariness he stopped.
It was dark now, quite dark in the tiny inner room where Anton had
thrust him. Strange to say, the darkness did not frighten the little
fellow; on the contrary, it soothed him. Night had really come. In
the night it was natural to lie still and sleep; when people were
asleep time passed quickly. Maurice would go to sleep, and then in
the morning surely, surely Joe and Cecile would find him and bring
him home.
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