"I wish that I might tell you," he said humbly, "but I have only
little lights in my head, instead of words. And when I say them,
they do not mean--what they _shine_. Do you not see? That is why
every one laughs. But I know what the lights say."
St. George looked at Olivia helplessly.
"Will you tell me where his room is?" he said, "and I'll go back
with him. I don't know what to make of this, quite, but don't be
frightened. It's all right. Didn't you say he is on the second
floor?"
"Yes, but don't go alone with him," begged Olivia suddenly, "let me
call some of the servants. We don't know what he may do."
St. George shook his head, smiling a little in sheer boyish delight
at that "we." "We" is a very wonderful word, when it is not put to
unimportant uses by kings, editors and the like.
"I'd rather not, thank you," he said. "I'll have a talk with him, I
think."
"His room is at the top of the stair, on the left," said Olivia
reluctantly, "but I wish--"
"We shall get on all right," St.
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