“How’m I like unto an insect gnat?”
“Gnat jumps—this way, that, every way. So you do so. Can’t sit still, listen to beautiful stories.”
“I don’t like those kind stories. Like better stories about ghosts and—”
“Oh, you always get afraid of such stories, screaming like sea-gull.”
“Yes, but all same, I like to do that—like to hear such stories—like also get frightened and scream.”
“Gnat also bites—bites foot, same as you do.”
“That don’t hurt,” she said, her eyes askance. Then, repeating her words, questioningly, “That don’t hurt?”
“Oh yes, it does, certainly. What do you suppose I got to keep my feet under me now for?”
Her little bosom heaved.
“Let me see those foots, Komazawa.”