“Then what makes you move your mouth so queer?” she asked in writing.
“I’m talking,” he scribbled back.
“What does talking mean? That’s a word we know nothing about in this valley.”
“Then how do you understand one another? And why don’t you make words with your mouth?” he traced.
“We write to each other—like this. There would be no use in talking like you do. We are all deaf.”
“All of you?”
“Yes, everybody in the valley.”
“Oh, then this is a valley of silence,” wrote Peterkin.
“Silence? What is silence?”
“Why, silence is when there is no noise.”