Chapter 8
Nigel Comes to a Conclusion
made both deluded and blind."
1 Corinthians 13:11 and The Author
The following morning extra early, with his night shirt twisted about,
his hair all bedraggled and sleep crusting his eyes, Nigel padded down
the stairs. Yawning and blinking and scratching his bare bum, he
staggered into the kitchen, where his mum and dad were finishing
breakfast.
"Good morning, my little champion!" Roger greeted the boy through a
last bite of muffin, "You're certainly early up!"
Nigel silently climbed onto a chair and drowsily propped his chin on
the table.
"Here's some milk, dear," Angela said, setting a half filled glass in
front of him. "I'll fix you some toast and marmalade."
"So why up so early, Nigel?" Roger asked with a smile. "Night scares?"
"Thinking." The little boy replied simply, and cradled his head in his
folded arms.
"About what?"
"Tommy and Mrs. Whitby."
"Very said, isn't it? Such a wonderful boy, too." Roger replied,
stepping away from the table, "About the time you think you know
someone, you find out that you really don't, do you?"
"I feel horrible for thinking the things I had," Angela confessed,
"And for saying the things I did about poor Mrs. Whitby."
roly-poly."
serious?"
"I think so."
"Lord knows I've never seen the resemblance!" his father laughed,
"Unless you could say they're both crusty."
marmalade in front of Nigel.
"Here you are, dear." She said, and then turned to her husband,
"You'll miss the train if you don't hurry, Roger."
"My God, it's late!" the man exclaimed, glancing at the wall clock.
"Better run. Be good for your mum today, Nigel. No more wild
adventures and sitting in the corner."
Grabbing his case and hat, Roger gave Angela a peck on the cheek,
kissed the top of Nigel's head and rushed for the front door.
"Pill bugs!" he laughed again as he went out, "Right."
And the door closed.
"What do you think, Mummy?" Nigel asked after his dad had departed. He
licked some marmalade off one corner of toast.
Angela gave him a mystified look.
"About Mrs. Whitby being a roly-poly?"
Nigel nodded. Angela sat down and peered at her boy over her steaming
cup of coffee.
"Why do you think that?" she asked curiously.
"I don't know," he replied, "But when something bad happens,
His mum leaned over and gave him a kiss.
"Nigel, I think you're right."
Giving a small, satisfied smile, Nigel slid off the chair and ambled
toward the staircase.
"Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" his mother asked.
Without a word, Nigel turned around and walked back to the table. He
then wore a deeply serious expression, and he picked up both his glass
of milk and the plate of half-eaten, half-licked marmalade toast.
"I have to do something," he said simply, and then carried his
breakfast up the stairs.
reverie. "Roly-poly, indeed."
HMSVV2010
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