But his tongue was still tied, and his arms paralyzed by the spectre of the deft needle.
"Nahnya," he said shakily at last, "can't you talk to me?"
She smiled without looking up. "I not much for talking," she said. "What about?"
"You," he said.
She shrugged. "Me?" she said. "That's nothing!"
"You said when you knew me better you'd tell me about yourself."
The needle paused. She looked disconcerted, and frowned. "I can't talk," she said slowly, "just to be talking. Talking is foolish. It makes trouble. You never can tell what will be said before you are through talking."
Ralph in his right mind would have laughed and commended her sound sense. Now he waved it aside. "You said you'd tell me about yourself," he repeated.
She pointed toward the dugout. "Your paddle is rough," she said. "Take a knife and make the end smooth to fit the hand. Working is good sense."
"I won't be put off like this!" cried Ralph hotly.