Sybil looked at him. “That’s where I live,” she said impatiently. “I live in Whirly Wood, Connecticut.” She ran a few steps ahead of him, caught up her left foot in her left hand, and hopped two or three times.
“You have no idea how clear that makes everything,” the young man said.
Sybil released her foot. “Did you read `Little Black Sambo’?” she said.
“It’s very funny you ask me that,” he said. “It so happens I just finished reading it last night.” He reached down and took back Sybil’s hand. “What did you think of it?” he asked her.
“Did the tigers run all around that tree?”
“I thought they’d never stop. I never saw so many tigers.”
“There were only six,” Sybil said.
“Only six!” said the young man. “Do you call that only?”
“Do you like wax?” Sybil asked.
“Do I like what?” asked the young man. “Wax.”