"That is nonsense," Nesta said. "How can I help minding about a thing like that?"
"Well, but what's the good of talking?" Eustace exclaimed. "Dad has to go; we can't prevent that if we talk for ever."
"Yes; but if it is dangerous—" Nesta began in a low, awe-struck voice.
"Dangerous!" Eustace repeated. "What could there be dangerous about it?"
"You know as well as I do," Nesta replied. "Supposing the blacks were to come down on us in the night when we were here all alone!"
"Oh, do shut up!" Eustace said sharply. "Why should the blacks happen to come just because father is away? They may not even be in the neighbourhood."
"Yes; but you remember that horrid story Kate told us," Nesta said, almost whispering. "The father was away—there were nothing but women and children in the house—"
"Oh, stop, Nesta!" Eustace said. "Of course I remember all about it. I don't want to hear the beastly thing all over again. What is the good of frightening ourselves all for nothing? Don't you know that father wouldn't go if he could possibly help it? And if he must go, we've got to make the best of it, that's all. Now I'm going to read, so do shut up."
Nesta stood silently staring at him a moment, but he seemed already to have forgotten her very existence.
"Well, you are a queer boy," she said, in what the boys always called her "huffy" voice.