The man laughed. “Please,” said he, “may I play, too?”
“You are too old,” said Walter.
“No, I’m not.”
John did not mean to have any unfairness. “How old are you?” he asked.
The man held his fingers to his lips. “It’s a secret. Folks say I’m twenty-three,” he said. “But they really don’t know. The fact is I’m only twelve.”
“Swear it and hope to die?” demanded John.
“I swear.”
“And hope to die?”
“Do I have to?”
“No,” said Martha Mary. “If you want to be twelve, we will let you. Please, what can you play?”