"Ah-h," said Billy, "this is what I call comfort."
"Comfort," said a voice on the other side of the tree, "much you know about comfort." The voice was followed by the saddest-looking mortal that Billy had ever beheld. A regular sugar-loaf head—large at the jaws and small at the top, scrawny neck, sloping shoulders, and skinny legs. And such a face—weeping beady eyes, a long sharp nose and thin lips turned down at the corners.
"Who are you?" asked Billy sharply. "And what do you mean by coming up so suddenly?"
The Hermit.
"I'm a hermit, and this is my fast day, so I couldn't come slowly," said the man sadly.
"What is a fast day?" asked Billy.
"A day when you don't eat."
"Oh!" said Billy, "I thought you meant a day when time flies."