Argosy, September 1955 — page 125: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHRYSALIDS 123 ‘Can rabbits talk?’ I inquired. ‘* I’ve never heard them. . Nor have I,” he admitted. ‘“‘ Still, I suppose they’d have to have some way of telling one another things, wouldn’t they? ”’ “Yes,” I said. “‘ I suppose they would.” He limped closer, and sat down beside me, chewing on a stalk of grass from the rick. “‘ Feeling lonely? ”’ he asked “No,” I told him He frowned a bit again. ‘Wouldn't it be better if you did your chatting with some of the other kids,’’ he suggested. ‘‘ Wouldn’t it be more fun than just sitting and talking to yourself? ”’ ‘“ But I was,” I protested. “Was what? ”’ he said, still frowning. “Talking to one of them,” I told him. He looked puzzled. “‘ Who?” he asked. * Rosalind,” I told him. ‘* H’m—I didn’t see her around,”’ he said. . ‘““ Oh, she’s not here. She’s at home—at least, she’s near home, in a little secret hut her brothers built in the spinney,”’ I explained. ‘« She often goes there when she wants to talk.” He didn’t seem to be able to understand at first. He kept on talking as if it were some make-believe game; but after I had gone on for some time trying to explain, he became quite quiet, and looked very serious. After I’d stopped, he didn’t say anything for a bit; then he asked, “‘ This is the real truth you’re telling, Davie boy? ” He looked at me very hard and steadily. ‘Yes, Uncle Axel, of course,”’ I assured him. ‘“And you’ve never told anyone else—no grown-up person at all?” “No,” I told him, truthfully. He threw away the remains of his grass-stalk, and pulled another trom the rick. After he had bitten a few pieces off it and spat them out, he looked at me directly again. ‘“* Davie,” he said. ‘“‘ I want you to make me a promise.” “Yes, Uncle Axel?” ‘“ It’s this,’’ he said, very seriously, ‘* that you will never, never tell anyone else what you’ve just told me—never, it’s very important. You mustn’t do anything that would let anyone guess. Will you promise me that? ”’ His intensity and gravity were so unlike his usual self that they: impressed me strongly. When I gave my promise, I was aware that I was promising: something more important than I understood. He nodded, satisfied that I meant it. Then he went on, “ It would be best if you could forget it altogether.” I thought about that, and then shook my head. ““T don’t think I could do that, Uncle Axel. It just happens, It'd be like—”’ I broke off, unable to express what I meant. comiclbooks.conn