Prince Arvinson had made a habit of roaming the perimeter of his mother's nursery building. Even when it was raining, like tonight.
"Boz Pinz!" The shrill voice of the little boy penetrated the darkness of the night. "Where are you going? It is raining!" Mino had grown. He could speak straight words. And he was talkative as ever.
"I am just walking. It is time you sleep. Tomorrow's a busy day!" He went near the newly-built bungalow.
The child was at the opened window of his bedroom.
"Okay! You, too! You promised the old lady that she'll get her bag of fertilizer tomorrow!"
Prince Arvinson laughed at the reminder. Mino copied the frowning face of Mrs. Fergusson.
"Yes. I made her a bag of fertilizer before I went out. Goodnight, Mino! Sweet dreams!"
"Goodnightie, Boz Pinz!"
"Mino!
