Everychild

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10. Cinderella's Decision



Everychild's eyes beamed with delight. "Then you did come to this house," he said. "I thought you did; but you ran so fast--I couldn't be sure where you went." It is true that he was breathing quickly, but he was perfectly happy.

Cinderella stood regarding him, two finger tips pressed against her cheek. "Have I--have I ever met you before?" she asked wonderingly.

He did not really reply to this. "I was beside the road with my companions," he said. "We were lying down. I saw you hurry by. I could tell something was the matter. I followed you. I hope you don't mind!"

She regarded him dubiously. "You look like a very nice boy," she said. "But it's fearfully late for you to be out or for me to ask you to come in. Still----"

"Please let me come in," pleaded Everychild. "There's something I want very much to ask you."

After a pause she said, "Well, yes, you may come in." She stood aside, watching him with a whimsical smile as he advanced into the room.

He stopped in surprise when he saw the figure at the table, bending over the spoons. It was the Masked Lady. She had put aside her shepherdess's crook and had become a house-servant. But he was so full of the thought of Cinderella that he paid little heed to the Masked Lady.

He sat down in one of the chairs the sisters had occupied; and when Cinderella followed and sat down by him he gazed at her intently.

"Tell me--what was it you wished to know?" asked Cinderella.

He had trouble finding the right words; but at length he began, "Your mother--does she whip you? You know, you were running so, and you seemed so frightened . . ."

Cinderella looked beyond him. She seemed to speak to herself rather than to Everychild. "She doesn't whip me," she said. "If it were only being whipped I shouldn't mind so much. A whipping . . . it's soon over and little harm done. No, she doesn't whip me."

"Or perhaps she tries to lose you," said Everychild. "You were really in a dreadful state, you know, as you came running along the road."

But Cinderella continued to speak musingly, as if to herself. "She doesn't whip me. But to know that you're never to be praised or loved; to have your mother look at you coldly, and say nothing--or just to have her pay no attention at all, but to act as if a wrong had been done her somehow . . . a whipping would be easy, compared with that."

Everychild took her up with swift comprehension. "I know what you mean," he declared. "Not to have them listen when you speak, as if you were in the way . . ."

Cinderella gazed at him darkly. "Child, what do you know of such things?" she demanded.

Everychild answered simply, "Our mothers were like that too. I know what it means."

Cinderella said, "Your mothers?"

"First it was just me," explained Everychild. "And then it was Hansel and Grettel."

"Ah, those poor children!" exclaimed Cinderella. "I've heard how their parents took them out into the woods to lose them. I'm surprised they ever went back."

"They're not going back again. They're going with me. With me and the giant and----"

"But where?" interrupted Cinderella.

"And you shall go with us," concluded Everychild. "That's what I wanted to tell you. We're going to find the truth."

But this only brought a sad smile to Cinderella's lips. "Ah," she said, "I wonder if it would be really wise to do that. Sometimes I think our hearts never break until we know the whole truth."

Everychild could not understand this; and he was relieved when the Masked Lady spoke. She was still polishing spoons slowly. Now she said, without looking up, "Our hearts break when we know only half the truth. They are healed when all the truth is known."

"Come, it will be great to have you go too," declared Everychild urgently.

Cinderella slowly relaxed in her chair. She rested her chin in her palm and gazed at the floor. Her eyes presently took in the fact that she had lost a slipper.

"I don't see how I could manage it," she said. "I seem to have lost a slipper. One of the pretty glass ones. But there, you don't know about that." She aroused herself and began looking about for her old slippers. She looked here and there. She found them at last under the bed. She took them into her hands and turned them over and over, regarding them sadly. Then without seeming cause she started guiltily and fixed her gaze on the door through which her sisters had made their entrance and exit.

"Some one is coming!" she whispered excitedly,

Everychild sprang to his feet.

"It's my mother, I think," added Cinderella. "I'm afraid there'll be trouble. Please run away. No, I don't think I could go with you, after all."

Everychild stood undecided an instant; and then he could see the inner door opening. He would have run away, then, but it was too late; and Cinderella seized him by the arm. It was plain that she was trying to think of a place where he might hide.

He knew what to do in a second. He dropped to the floor and rolled under Cinderella's bed! From his hiding-place under the bed he saw the door open wide and a very pompous-appearing matron enter the room.

This was Cinderella's mother, who began immediately, in a rage:

"So, my fine girl, you are here ahead of me!"

Cinderella bowed her head. "I am here, mother," she said in a low voice.

"Without your fine clothes, I see!"

"My fine clothes, mother?" said Cinderella, with downcast eyes.

"None of that, my lass! A mother's eyes are not deceived. I knew it was you! All those jewels and silks, finer than your poor dear sisters can afford to wear, did not deceive me. And the prince dancing with you shamelessly while your poor sisters sat by as if they had wooden legs . . . did you suppose for an instant you could deceive me?"

Of course Cinderella knew she had been found out. She replied in a tone of sad resignation: "I could scarcely have expected to deceive you, mother. I've had so little experience in doing so. You know I've always been obedient--always before. Deceit isn't easy. I had only changed my dress, after all, while you had put on a gracious manner--and yet I knew you instantly."

"Precisely . . . What? Oh, you shall pay for that!"

The angry creature looked about for some means of inflicting a cruel punishment, and her eyes came upon a closet door. "Come, to bed with you!" she exclaimed. "In the closet! It will do very well for such as you. I'll have you under lock and key to-night, and to-morrow I'll look into your case, you impudent, disobedient wretch!"

Seeing what her mother's intention was, Cinderella cried in a mournful tone, "Oh, mother!"

But her mother stamped her foot violently. "In with you!" she cried. Whereupon she removed a key from its peg on the wall and unlocked the closet door. With one movement she forced Cinderella into the closet. Then she locked the door and replaced the key on its peg.

"Unless the child is a witch in disguise--which I shouldn't put apast her, for how else should she get the silks and jewels she wore to-night?--she'll not be able to show her face again until I come to let her out. I wore a gracious manner, did I?--and she knew me instantly in spite of it! There's a dutiful child for you. A dutiful child? A shameless hussy!"

And the furious creature blew out the candle on the mantel and left the room. You could hear her slam the door.

A faint cry of distress came from the locked closet: "Mother--mother!" In the darkness Everychild's voice could be heard speaking cautiously, "Wait, Cinderella--wait until I can make a light."

The voice from the closet was heard again: "Mother--mother!"

And then Everychild's voice: "I must make a light, so that I can find the key!"

For the last time Cinderella's voice could be heard faintly--"Mother!"

And then there was the calm voice of the Masked Lady: "Now you can see!"

The room was lighted again! The Masked Lady had arisen from her place. She was holding the lighted candle above her head.

Not a second was wasted by Everychild. He hurriedly crossed the room and took the key from its peg. He unlocked the closet door.

Cinderella thrust the door open and burst into the room.

"I couldn't leave you there, you know," said Everychild.

Cinderella regarded him intently. "You could not leave me there--no," she said; "and you shall not leave me in this house, where I meet only indignities and abuse. Come, I am going with you."

Not another word was needed. Hand in hand they approached the outer door. For a moment Everychild disengaged his hand to remove the bar from before the door. He opened the door, and then hand in hand they passed the threshold.

As if she were moving quite absent-mindedly the Masked Lady went and closed the door behind them. She put the bar back in its place. She pondered a moment and then she re-locked the closet door, replacing the key on its wooden peg.

There was a sound of footsteps approaching; and instantly the light went out, though the Masked Lady had not blown upon it.

Pitch darkness for a moment, then the flash of a light. The mother of Cinderella was standing near the mantel, lighting the candle, which was back in its place again. The Masked Lady was seated by the wooden table, polishing spoons.

"I thought I heard a voice!" mused the mother of Cinderella.

She inspected the outer door. The bar was in its place. She looked at the closet door. It was locked. The key was on its peg.