A wistful voice replied:
“Did you get tired of ’em when you was little, Mr. David?”
“No, no,” I answered hastily, “of course, I did not.”
The lad rolled over until his brown head rested against my knee.
“To-night I’d liever hear about fairies.”
“Honestly, Joey?”
“Yep! Criss cross my heart and hope to die. I like to hear about Dwainies.”
“Who calls them Dwainies?”
“Her—Bell Brandon.”
The dear homey name! I smiled down into the boy’s brown eyes. Suddenly it seemed to me that I should enjoy a talk about Dwainies.