“I see,” said little Jon, “it's dangerous.”
“You shall judge for yourself about all those things as you grow up.”
Little Jon replied in a calculating manner:
“I don't want to grow up, much. I don't want to go to school.” A sudden overwhelming desire to say something more, to say what he really felt, turned him red. “I—I want to stay with you, and be your lover, Mum.”
Then with an instinct to improve the situation, he added quickly “I don't want to go to bed to-night, either. I'm simply tired of going to bed, every night.”
“Have you had any more nightmares?”
“Only about one. May I leave the door open into your room to-night, Mum?”
“Yes, just a little.” Little Jon heaved a sigh of satisfaction.
“What did you see in Glensofantrim?”
“Nothing but beauty, darling.”