things. Everything has its place in the world and its work to do. They don’t want to get out. They like to carry their bones on the outside of their bodies. They’re made so. Yes, yes, all in the order of things. They like it.”

“You reckon you can tell me hu’ come God ‘lowed me to have this-er lump on my back? Hit hain’t in no ordeh o’ things fer humans to be like I be.”

The sceptical old man looked down on the child quizzically, yet sadly. His flexible mouth twitched to reply, but he was silent. Hoyle looked back into the old doctor’s eyes with grave, direct gaze, and turned away. “You reckon why he done hit?”

“See here. Suppose — just suppose you were given your choice this minute to change places with Frale —