I Capture the Castle

by Dodie Smith

“Good enough. Pull me up.” Stephen went to help Thomas. “But not you, Miss Cassandra,” he said, “it’s dangerous.” “I suppose you don’t mind me breaking my neck,” said Rose. “Well, I’d rather you didn’t,” said Stephen, “but I know you wouldn’t stop for the asking. Anyway, it’s you who want to wish on the angel, not Miss Cassandra.” I’d have been glad to wish on anything, but I wouldn’t have gone up there for a pension. “It’s a devil, not an angel, I tell you,” said Rose. She sat swinging her legs a minute, then looked round at us all. “Does anyone dare me?” “No!” we all shouted, which must have been very irritating. She said: “Then I dare myself. Haul me up.” Thomas and Stephen hauled. When she was about ten feet from the floor, I asked them to stop a minute. “How does it feel, Rose?” I said. “Peculiar, but a nice change. Go on, boys.” They pulled again. The carved head must be over twenty feet up and as she rose higher and higher I had an awful feeling in my stomach — I don’t think I had realized until then how very dangerous it was. When she was within a few feet of the head, Stephen called up: “That’s as high as the rack’ll go.”