Chapter 4

CHAPTER IV

THE YOUNG LIFE OF PAUL

PAUL would be built like his mother, slightly and rather small.
His fair hair went reddish, and then dark brown; his eyes were grey.
He was a pale, quiet child, with eyes that seemed to listen, and with
a full, dropping underlip.

As a rule he seemed old for his years. He was so conscious
of what other people felt, particularly his mother. When she
fretted he understood, and could have no peace. His soul seemed
always attentive to her.

As he grew older he became stronger. William was too far
removed from him to accept him as a companion. So the smaller boy
belonged at first almost entirely to Annie. She was a tomboy and a
"flybie-skybie", as her mother called her. But she was intensely
fond of her second brother. So Paul was towed round at the heels
of Annie, sharing her game. She raced wildly at lerky with the other
young wild-cats of the Bottoms. And always Paul flew beside her,
living her share of the game, having as yet no part of his own.
He was quiet and not noticeable. But his sister adored him.
He always seemed to care for things if she wanted him to.

She had a big doll of which she was fearfully proud, though not
so fond. So she laid the doll on the sofa, and covered it with
an antimacassar, to sleep. Then she forgot it. Meantime Paul
must practise jumping off the sofa arm. So he jumped crash into
the face of the hidden doll. Annie rushed up, uttered a loud wail,
and sat down to weep a dirge. Paul remained quite still.

"You couldn't tell it was there, mother; you couldn't tell it
was there," he repeated over and over. So long as Annie wept for
the doll he sat helpless with misery. Her grief wore itself out.
She forgave her brother--he was so much upset. But a day or two
afterwards she was shocked.

"Let's make a sacrifice of Arabella," he said. "Let's burn her."

She was horrified, yet rather fascinated. She wanted to see
what the boy would do. He made an altar of bricks, pulled some of
the shavings out of Arabella's body, put the waxen fragments into
the hollow face, poured on a little paraffin, and set the whole thing
alight. He watched with wicked satisfaction the drops of wax melt off
the broken forehead of Arabella, and drop like sweat into the flame.
So long as the stupid big doll burned he rejoiced in silence.
At the end be poked among the embers with a stick, fished out the arms
and legs, all blackened, and smashed them under stones.

"That's the sacrifice of Missis Arabella," he said. "An' I'm
glad there's nothing left of her."

Which disturbed Annie inwardly, although she could say nothing.
He seemed to hate the doll so intensely, because he had broken it.

All the children, but