"Well, yes! I was crying," Digory admitted much louder, like a child so upset that he doesn't care if people know he's been crying. "And you would cry too," he continued, "if you had spent your whole life in the countryside and had a pony and a river at the end of your garden, and then they brought you to live in a horrible Hole like this." "London is not a Hole," Polly said indignantly. But the boy was so worked up that he didn't notice her at all and went on. "And if your father was away in India, and you had to come and live with your aunt and uncle, who is mad (who would like that?), and if this happened because they had to take care of your mother, and if your mother was sick and about to... about to... die." Then he made a strange face, like when you're trying to hold back your tears. "I didn't know. I'm sorry," Polly said humbly. And then, because she didn't know what else to say, and because she wanted to make Digory think of something more pleasant, she asked, "Is Mr. Ketterley really mad?" "Look, either he's mad," said Digory, "or he's hiding some mystery. He has an office on the top floor, and Aunt Letty says I'm never to go in there. Well, that alone m
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