Every time
Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging
sign, and he would say cheerily:
"Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right
away!"
But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently
began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate
hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all
right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words
had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!"
Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep
back the tears, but they would come. At last she said:
"Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get
worse and worse off all the time."
"Listen!" said he.
Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were
conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the
empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that
resembled a ripple of mocking laughter.
"Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky.
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