Sue had hoped for greater frankness. Her own opinion of her Aunt Cynthia, while favorable, was unsettled. She thought of a thing in connection with her aunt which had given her some concern. She had been full of wonder as to its hidden potentialities.
In a moment Sue broached the subject by saying, "She's got a big mold on her neck."
"With a long hair on it," Socky added. "Bet you wouldn't dast pull that hair."
Sue squirmed a little. That single hair had, somehow, reminded her of the string on a jumping-jack. She reflected a moment, "I put my finger on it," said she, boastfully.
"That's nothing," Socky answered. "Uncle Silas let me feel the shot what he got in his arm. Gee, it was kind o' funny." He squirmed a little and thoughtfully felt his foot.
Sue recognized the superior attraction of the buried shot and held her peace a moment. Both had begun to yawn.
"Wisht it was t'-morrow," said Sue.
"Why?"
"'Cause I'm going to see the beautiful lady."
"An' the crow, too," Socky whispered.