Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

She Other Wing by Se Blachisoad One of the almost legendary figures among ghost story writers, Algernon Blackwood is justly famous for his oft-reprinted classics,“The Willows,’ and “The Wendigo.” He makes his first appearance in the Avon F antasy Reader: series with a story not otherwise.to be found in available collections. “The Other Wing” is a strange, haunting tale of an imaginative child in a lone- somely huge mansion. We selected it not only because it is not well known, but also as an interesting and welcome contrast to what we will describe as the comparatively more blatant fantasy of our American writers. T’ USED to puzzle him that, after dark, some one would look in around the edge of the bedroom door, and with- draw again too rapidly for him to see the face. When the nurse had gone away with the candle this happened: “Good night, Master Tim,” she said usually, shading the light with one hand to protect his eyes; “dream of me and [ll dream of you.” She went out slowly. The sharp-edged shadow of the door ran across the ceiling like a train. There came a whispered colloquy in the corridor outside, About himself, of course, and—he was alone. He heard her ~ steps going deeper and deeper into the bosom of the old country house; they were audible for a moment on the stone flooring of the hall; and sometimes _ the dull thump of the baize door into the servants’ quarters just reached him, too—then silence. But it was only when the last. sound, as well as the last sign of her had vanished, that the face emerged from its hiding-place and flashed in upon him round the corner. As a rule, too, it came just as he was saying, “Now I'll go-to sleep. I won’t think any longer. Good night, Master ~ Tim, and happy dreams.” He loved to say this to himself; it brought a sense of companionship, as though there were two persons speaking. The room was on the top of the old house, a big, high-ceilinged room, and his bed against the wall had an iron railing round it; he felt very safe and protected in it. The curtains at the other end of the room were drawn. He lay watching the firelight dancing on the heavy folds, and their pattern, showing a spaniel chasing a long-tailed bird towards a bushy tree, interested and amused him. It was repeated over and over again. He counted the num- 74 = comicbooks.com