"I wondered why you had your ship so high above the sea."
"I don't guess hit's a very good'n," said the child, ruefully, clinging to the scrap of paper with reluctant grasp. "You reckon she'd keer fer this'n?"
"I reckon she'd care for anything you made. Give it to me, and I'll send it to her."
"She tol' me the sea, hit war blue, an' I can't make hit right blue an' soft like she said. That thar blue pencil, hit's too slick. I can't make hit stay on the papah."
"What are these mounds here on either side of the sea?"
"Them's mountains."
"But why did you put mountains in the sea?" The boy looked with wide eyes dreamily past the two men so attentively regarding him.
"I—I reckon I jes' put 'em thar fer to look like the sea hit war on the world. I don't guess the'd be no ocean nor no world 'thout the' war mountains fer to hold everything whar hit belongs at."
"I shall bring you a box of paints to-morrow if the nurse will allow you to have them. I'll provide an oilcloth to spread around so he won't throw paint over your nice clean bed," he said to the pleasant-faced young woman.
"That's all right, Doctor," she said.