“I kin make pi’chers whilst I’m a-lyin’ here,” he cried ecstatically. “That thar lady, she ‘lows me to make ‘em. She ‘lows mine’re good uns.” David glanced at the young woman indicated. She was pleasant-faced and rosy, and looked practical and good.

“He’s such an odd little chap,” she said.

“What be that — odd? Does hit mean this ‘er lump on my back?” He pulled David down and whispered the question in his ear.

“No, no. She only means that you’re a dear, queer little chap.”

“What be I quare fer?”

“What are all these drawings? Tell us what they mean.”