The Crick was of a
warm and passionate temperament, and was devotedly attached to the Dust.
"I love you," he whispered. "I am your husband. I protect, surround,
defend, cherish you, and house you, you poor fragile Dust. You are my
wife. You fill all the vacant space of my heart. I adore you. I am all
heart!"
And if vacant space is heart, this last assertion was quite true.
"Remain with me always," said the Crick.
"Ever with thee," said the Dust, who spoke like a valentine.
But the most loving couples cannot control destiny. The wind went round
to the west, and the Crick was emptied in a moment. In the first thrill
of agony he stretched himself and became much wider.
"I am empty," he cried; "I shall never be filled again. This is the
greatest misfortune that could possibly have happened."
The Crick was wrong. He was not to remain empty; and a still greater
misfortune was in store. The owner of the wall was a careful man, and
came round his premises with a trowel of mortar.
"What a crack!" said he; "it must be the frost. A stitch in time saves
nine, however." And so saying he slapped a lump of mortar into the Crick
with the dexterity of a mason.
In due time the wind went back to the east, and with it came the Dust.
Pages:
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64