THE END OF THE Parry Morton woke with a start to face the fs Pirpeinse the gas. Ie was January theft He looked across table on which a nightlight ha. 1a poo! of water, at the other bed. Francis Morton = a inte cL Tee lay dwn again withhiseyeson his brother ese ight. Rain tpped toimagie it was himself whom he watched, the same ain oe tprandlne of ec Bre ee the mind went back to the fact which lent the day impor, teas the ith of January: He could hardly believe a year had pat Fhe Mrs Henne-Falcon had given her last childrens pary Francis turned suddenly upon his back and threw an arm acts his face, blocking his mouth. Peters heart began to beat ft, ny Ienleasure now but with uneasiness. He sat up and called sos the table, ‘Wake up.’ Francis’s shoulders shook and he waved 1 enched fist in the air, but his eyes remained closed, To fcr Morton the whole room seemed to darken, and he hal the impression of a great bird swooping. He eried again, ‘Woke un land once more there was silver light and the touch of rain on he svindows. Francis rubbed his eyes. ‘Did you call out he ash. “You are having.a bad dream,’ Peter said. Already experinse sd taught him how farther minds efleered each other. But he ws ie ‘lder, by a matter of minutes, and that brief extra interval oleh while his brother still struggled in pain an self-reliance and an instinct of protection was afraid of so many things. “I dreamed that I was dead,’ Francis said. “What was it like?” Peter asked. 1d darkness, had given towards the other ®” ‘The End of the Barty “pid “The eo lay silent in bed facing each other, the same green eYeS, the same nose iting a ee tip the same frm lips, and the same premature modelling of the chin. The ith of Janaary Peter thoughe sean, his mind deifting idly from the image of cakes to the prizes vshich might be won, Egg-and-spoon races, spearing apples in basins ‘of water, blind man’s buff. “ddon’e want to go,’ Francis said suddenly ‘T suppose Joyce will be there... Mabel Warten.’ Hateful to im, the thought of a party shared with those two. They were older than he, Joyce was eleven ind Mabel Warren thirteen. The long pigtails” swung supercliously oamasculine stride, Thee sex humiliated him, as they watched him famble with his egg from under lowered scornful ids. And last year he eucned his face away from Peter, his checks sarlet. ‘hat’s the matter? Peter asked. “Oh, nothing I don’ think I'm wel. I've gota cold oughtn'e 10 ‘porothe party” Peter was puzzled. ‘But Feancs, is ita bad cold?" “Tell bea bad cold if Igo to the party Pethaps I shall die.” “Then you mustn't go, Peter said, prepared ro sole all difficulties “with one plain sentence, and Francis lt his neres relax, ready (0 eave everything to Peter. Bur though he was grateful he did not turn his face towards his brother. His checks sill bore the badge of a shameful memory, of the game of hide and seck last year in the darkened house, and of how he had screamed when Mabel Warren pputher hand suddenly upon his arm. He had not heard her coming. GGitds were lke that. Their shoes never squeaked. No boards whined. ‘under the tread. They slunk like eats on padded claws. When thenurse*camein with hor water Francislaytranquilleaving everything to Peter. Pate said, ‘Nurse, Francis has gor a cold’ ‘Theta starched woman laid the towels across the cans and said, Escaneado con CamScannerswithoot tuteing, “The washing won't be back tll thst end hit some of your handkerchiefs" "But, Nurs Peter asked hada’t he beter tay in bad “Weil take him for a good walk this morni “wind Now away the geems. Get up now, close the doo behind ber “Tm sory’ Peter sad. "Why dont you jus stayin bed mother you fee toillto get up But rebellion againe age ‘boc in Francis’s power. If he stayed in bed they would come ssp edited he oo tongue, and they would discover he was malingeing. It wars te el ill sick empty sensation in his stomach and sry tetingheart,butheknew the eause was only fear fear of theron fear of being made to hide by himself inthe dark, uncomponnoct by Peer and with no nightlight to make a blessed breach “Nol getup he said, and then with sudden desperation, ‘ht | wont go to Mrs Henne-Falcon's party. I swear an the Bite won't? Now suey all would be well he thought, God would no allow him o break so solemn an oath, He woud show him 3:8 ‘There was all the mocning before him and all the afternoon ui fouro'dock. No need to worry when the grass was sill esp with the eaty frost, Anything might happen. He might eu himsll break his leg or really catch a bad cold. God would manise somehow: chad such confidence in God that when at breakfast his most ‘ai Thearyou havea cold, Francis,’ he made ight of it.‘We shoul! Fomor: tn ing the nu both of you ang is happiness would have lasted lone! ings he had not met Joyce. He was alone th his murs, for Peter had leave to finish a rabbichusch inte 4- lf Peter had been there he would have cared less th ‘The End of the Party tote ety ‘nurse was Peter's nurse also, but now it was as though she were ‘employed only for his sake, because he could not be trusted to £0 for a walk alone, Joyce was only two years older and she was by igtails Rapping, She glanced -scornfally at Francis and spoke with ostentation tothe nurse. "Hello, Nurse, Are you bringing Francis to che party this evening? Mabel sulicient in the long empty road, ‘But Francis was silent, feeling again the jump-jump of his heart, realizing how soon the hour of the party would arrive. God had done nothing for him, and the minutes flew. “They flew too quickly to plan any evasion, or even to prepare his heart for the coming ordeal. Panie nearly overcame him when, all ‘unready he found himself standing onthe doorstep, with coat-collar turned up against a cold wind, and thenurse's electric torch making, fa shore trail through the darkness. Behind him were the lights of thehalland the sound of a servant laying the table fr dinner, which hismother and father would et alone, He was nealy overcome by the desireto run back into the house and callout to his mother that he would not go to the party, that he dared not go. They could not, make him go. He could almost hear himself saying those final ‘words breaking down for ever the batierof ignorance which saved his mind from his parent’ knowledge. I'm afraid of going. [won't | go. daren’e go. They'll make me hide inthe dark, and I'm afraid ‘of the dark, Pll scream and scream and scream.’ He could see the ‘expression of amazement on his mother's fac, and then the cold ‘confidence of a grown-up's retort. “‘Don’tbe silly You must go. We've accepted Mrs Henne-Faleon’s invitation." But they couldn't make him go; hesitating on the doorstep while the nurs’ fet crunched across the frost-covered Escaneado con CamScannerx The Eye of Childhood rms tothe ate he ew that. He would answet: "You cay Lt wont go. 'm aid ofthe dark.” And his mothen sil You know there’ nothing tobe afd of inthe dag ew the fait of that reasoning; he knew how they sop thar there was noting to fear in death, and how fest tpoided the idea of it. But they couldn't make him go wong “Pi scream, P'l scream. par, “Francis, come along” He heard the nurse's voice across phosphorescent lawn and saw the yellow circle of her torch og’ from reeto shrubs ‘'m coming,’ hecalled with despair; hecrnt bring himself to lay bare his last secrets and end reserve han! hismother and himself there wasstllin thelast resorts fant appeal possible to Mrs Henne-Falcon. He comforted himelt vin thar, ashe advanced steadily across the hall, very small toma herenormous bulk. His heare eat unevenly, but he had eontel nas ener his vice, as he meticulous accent, ‘Good evens. Mrs Henne-Falcon Ir was very good of you to ask me to your prt With his strained face lifted towards the curve of her breast, and his polite set speech, he was like an old withered man. As a win he was in many ways an only child. To address Peter was to spk ‘ohis own image ina mirror, an image a litle altered by 3 fan the glass, so as to throw back less a likeness of what he was than alate wished be what wuld be witourhisunesn «of darkness, footsteps. of strangers, the light of bats in dusk Baal iccovascdvc. 2 deme __ ‘Sweet child, said Mrs Henne-Falcon absent-mindedly, befor 4 wave of her arms, as though the children were flock of thickens, she whirled them into her set programme of tertsinments:egg-and-spoon races, three-legged races th ‘pearing of apples, names which held for Francis nothing worse tha _ Remilaon, And in the frequent intervals when noshine *3* and he could standalone in corners a far rem he dimly ‘The End of the Party as posible from Mabel Warren's scorfalgae, he was able to plan ‘how he might avoid the approaching terror of the dark. He knew there was nothing to fear until after tea, and not until he was sitting down in a pool of yellow radiance cast by the ten candles on Colin ‘Henne-Falcon’s birthday cake did he become fully conscious of the Jimminence of what he feared. He heard Joyce's igh voice down the table, ‘After tea we are going to play hide and seek in the dark.” “Oh, no,’ Peter said, watching Francis's troubled face, “don’t let's. We play that every year? “But it’s in the programme,’ cried Mabel Warren. ‘I saw it myself. Hooked over Mrs Henne-Falcon’s shoulder. Five o'lock tea. A {quater 0 sx to half pat, hide and sek in the dark I's all written down in che programme.” Peter did not argue, for if hide and seck had been inserted in Mrs ‘Henne-Falcon’s programme, nothing which he could say would avert it, He asked for another piece of birthday cake and sipped his tea slowly Perhaps it might be possible ro delay the game for a ‘quarter of an hour, allow Francis at least a few extra minutes t0 forma plan, but even in that Perr failed, for children were already leaving the table in twos and threes. Ie was his third failure, and again he saw a great bed darken his brother's fae with its wings. Buthe upbraided himself silently for his folly, and finshed his cake encouraged by the memory ofthat adult eftain, ‘There's nothing 1 fear in the dak.’ The lst to leave the table, the brothers came together to he hall meet the mustering and impatient eyes of Mrs Henne-Faleon, “And nowy’ she said, ‘we will play hide and seek in the dark.’ Peter watched his brother and saw the lips tighten. Francis, he knew, had feared this moment fom the beginning ofthe party had tied to meet it with courage and had abandoned the attempt. He must have prayed for cunning to evade the game, which was now welcomed with cries of excitement by al the other children. Oh, Escaneado con CamScannerThe Eye of Childhood “da ers We must pick sides. ‘ shall home" be?” "sfthink,’ said Francis Morton, approaching Mrs Hen, “prope focined unwaveringly on her exuberant bras 4 “po ave my playing. My nurse will be calling for me very ‘will ke Mob, but your nurse can wait, Francis,’ said Mrs Hemmer | hileshe clapped her hands together to summon to hers ‘aden who were alteady straying up the wide sarene roa” floors. ‘Your mother will never mind.” mt “That had been the limit of Francis's cunning. He had refused teliene hat so well prepared an excuse could fail. Allthathe ay ‘ay non stillin the precise tone which other children hated, think, ita symbol of conceit, was, ‘think I had better not play" He sal motionless, retaining, though afraid, unmoved features. But the Inowledge of his terror, oF the reflection ofthe terzor itself, hl his brother's brain. For the moment, Peter Morton could have cried aloud with the fear of bright lights going out, leaving him alone in an island of dark surrounded by the gentle lappings of stanse footsteps. Then he temembered that the fear was not his on ht his brother's. He said impulsively to Mrs Henne-Faleon, “Pless.1 don't think Francis should play. ‘The dark makes him jump so’ Tho were the wrong words, Six children began to sings ‘Coan ‘ewardy custard turning torturing faces with the vacaney of sanfloners towards Francis Morton. aged looking at his brother, Francis sai ‘Of course I'll plas ‘Tem not afraid, only thought...” But he was already foreovte? bs ishuman tormentors, The children scrambled round Mrs Het Falcon, thei shrill voices pecking at her with question i soczrsion "Ye, anywhere inthe house. We will a ot ‘ight. Yes, you can hide in the cupboards. You must sta¥ hi Jong as you can. There will be no home*.” Peter ood Peres which PC apart, ashamed of the clumsy manner it Is any ofthe house ou of, uni per idden > ‘The End of the Party 29 had tried to help his brother. Now he could feel, creeping in atthe ‘comners of his brain, all Francis’ resentment of his championing. ‘Several children ran upstairs, andthe lights on the top floor went jut, Darkness came down like the wings of a bat and sertled on ‘the landing, Others began to put out the lights atthe edge of the trl til the ehildren were all gathered inthe central radiance ofthe ‘chandelier, while the bats squatted round on hooded wings and salted for that, €00, to be extinguished. “You and Francis are on the hiding side’ tall gic said, and then the light was gone, and the carpet wavered under his fet with the tibilance of footfals like small cold draughts, creeping away into ‘Where's Francis?” he wondered. ‘If I join him he'll be less {tightened of all these sounds” ‘These sounds' were the casing of silence: the squeak of a loose board, the cautious closing of a cupboard door, the whine ofa finger drawn along polished wood. Peter stood in the centre of the dark deserted floor, not listening ‘but waiting for the idea of his brother's whereabouts to enter his bain, But Francis crouched with fingers on his ears, eyes uselessly closed, mind numbed against impressions, and only a sense of strain could cross the gap of dark. Then a voice called ‘Coming’, and as though his brother’s selépossession had been shattered by che sudden ery, Peter Morton jumped with his fear. But it was not his ‘own feat. What in his brother was a burning panic was in him an altruistic emotion that lft the reason unimpaired. “Wheres if I were Francis, should hide?" And because he was, if not Francis himself, atleast a mirror to him, the answer was immediate ‘Between the ‘oak bookcase on the left of the study door, and the leather sete.” Between the twins there could be no jargon of telepathy. They had ‘been together in the womb, and they could not be parted. Peter’ Morton tiptod towards Francis’s hiding-place. Occasionally a board rattled, and because he feared to be caught Escaneado con CamScannerThe Eye of Childhood ef the soft qusters through the dark, he bene an A tag trick he flor and the metalic sound 8 ious fet moving in his direction. But by tha ine." stockings and woul have laughed inva athe pay ise someone stumbling on his abandoned sna! heart ti No more boards ale Pete Manion so stoskngd fet he moved silently and uneringy tow xt Instinct told him he was near the wall, and. con ela the fingers across his brother's face, did not cry out, bu the leap of his own hear eta n of Francis’ terror. “t's all right,” fing down the squatting figure until he captured is only me. Tl say with you.” And geasping the listened to the cascade of whispers his utterance hac A hand touched the book-case close to Peters aware of how Francis's fear continued in Spite of his presence. |t __ wart intense, more bearable, he hoped, butt remained, He knee ‘that it was his brother's fear and not his own that he. experienced, Tedtio win was only an absence of light; the groping han! aa imiliar child. Patiently he waited to be found. matinee eet a ne eee es union By way of joined hands thought cou re auety ey lips could shape themselves round words Bi tcon, thelearof = on Progress of his brother's emotion, of ear vg Pa the unexpected contact othe steady pu beater ane ot wth the ely ofa as Aid The ge ea mens Lam here. You nei Downe nah 2 28 akan Soon ‘That se ht braked = Only Joyce, only Mabel Warten.’ He Conic tha ce ge" with thoughts of safes but he 5 ar They ested They are bepining ow! king for us. The ights will goon 500% | extending revealed he whispered, a clenched hang other tightly. he id caused to fl read and he was i ‘The End of the Party 3 ‘We shal have won. Don’t be afraid. That was someone on the stairs I believe it’s Mrs Henne-Falcon, Listen. They are fecling for the lights.” Feet moving on a carpet, hands brushing a wall, a curtain pulled apart, a clicking handle, the opening of a cupboard door. In the case above their heads 2 loose book shifted under a touch. ‘Only Joyce, only Mabel Warren, only Mrs Henne-Falcon,’ a crescendo of reassuring thought before the chandelier burst like a fruit-tee, into bloom, “The voices of the children rose shrilly into the radiance. Where's Peter? ‘Have you looked upstairs? ‘Where's Francis? bur they were silenced again by Mrs Henne-Falcon’s seream. But she was not the first to notice Francis Morton’ stillness, where he had collapsed against the wall at the touch of his brother's hand, Peter continued 10 hold the clenched fingers in an arid and puzaled grief. Ie was not merely that his brother was dead. His brain, too young to realize the full paradox, wondered with an obseure self-pity why it was that the pulse of his brother’ fear went on and on, when Francis was now where he had always been told there was no more terror and ‘no more darkness. Escaneado con CamScanner