But Jimmy threw himself down on the ground.
“I’m tired. It’s so infernally hot.”
“Take a nap,” said his mother.
The boy laid his head on his curved arms sideways. Mrs. Clarke leaned down and put his panama hat over his left cheek and eye.
“Thank you, mater,” he murmured.
He lay still.
Dion had stood by with an air of hesitation during this little talk between mother and son. Now he looked away to the forest.
“You go,” Mrs. Clarke said to him. “You’ll find us here when you come back. The Armenians call the forest Defetgamm. Perhaps you will come under its influence.”
“Defetgamm! What does that mean?”
“Dispeller of care.”