“Every bit as bad,” said the spook, “They’re all pointed.”
Caleb felt out of his depth. Open doors and windows that kept a person in—if it was a person—seemed to want a little understanding. And the flimsier the person, too, the easier it ought to be for him to go where he wanted. Also, what could it matter whether they were pointed or not?
The latter question was the one which Caleb asked first.
“Six hundred years ago,” said the spook, “all arches were made round, and when these pointed things came in I cursed them. I hate new-fangled things.”
“That wouldn’t hurt them much,” said Caleb.
“I said I would never go under one of them,” said the spook.
“That would matter more to you than to them,” said Caleb.
“It does,” said the spook, with another great sigh.
“But you could easily change your mind,” said Caleb.