above the edge of the straw. He was wrought up to the highest pitch. Small wonder that there were deep red spots on his cheeks, and that there was a queer intense look in his eyes and about his obstinate little mouth. He threw up his arms with a desperate gesture.
"Everything," he said again, staring straight before him, "that anyone could want to learn about—everything in all the world."
"Oh, Robin!" said Meg, in quite a fierce little voice. "And we—we shall never see it!"
She saw Robin clench his hands though he said nothing, and it made her clench her own hands. Rob's were rough, little, square-fingered fists, brown and muscular. Meg's hands were long-fingered, flexible, and slender, but they made good little fists when they doubled themselves up.
"Rob," she said, "we never see anything—we never hear anything—we never learn anything. If something doesn't happen, we shall be—Nothings—that's what we shall be Nothings." And she struck her fists upon the straw.
Rob's jaw began to look very square, but he did not speak.
"We are twelve years old," Meg went on. "We've been here three years, and we don't know one thing
