” She laughed softly. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. " "We'll see that, young hempseed," replied Sharples, shutting the hatch furiously in his face, and locking it. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. ’ ‘You speak it very well,’ Gerald said encouragingly. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. “You haven’t told a lot of people in school that I’m a vampire, have you?” Lucy asked Michelle in earnest. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them.
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