"I guess my heart is not very different from other men's, Philip, though it would be hard to make some people think so."
"But ever'body don't have the same kind of hearts," the child persisted. He had got up from his knees and climbed into his uncle's lap. He looked around the room in a half scared way and said almost in a whisper,
"Some people have wolf hearts."
"Nonsense."
"They do! Honest, Unker Wichard!"
"Philip," said his uncle, sternly, "where did you get all that from?"
"Mammy Cely says so. I asked once did she ever have any little child like me, and she said once she did but a man with a wolf heart came and took it away from her. Unker Wichard, do people that take little chilwuns from their mamas—gypsies and ever'body like that—do they always have wolf hearts?"
"I am afraid I am not authority, Philip, on the subject. I have never known anybody with a wolf heart. In fact, there is no such thing. You must not believe all Mammy Cely's stories."
The boy snuggled down closer.
"You haven't any wolf heart, have you, Unker Wichard? Or any stone heart either."