“An’ I hate rain.”
“So do I! Listen to the starlings on that tree, screaming at us, perhaps. June, did you say the other day that you lived alone with your father?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“I did not mean that. It is a very excellent thing to do. But you must be very lonely sometimes.”
“Sometimes.”
“Then do you never see anyone? It must be so dull: I know how it is.”
“Oh yes, I see one or two.” She laughed.
“Who? But I never see anyone, except stewed people that Mamma serves up, when there is no way of keeping them out. And you are nicer than any of them.”
“You are a funny card.”
“Am I? Well, there are worse things to be. Isn’t it funny, though, that we should never have met in all these years? I have never seen you, June, never seen how you are.”