Old Tom Smallways paused impressively.
“And then?” said Teddy.
“It all fell to dus'. White dus'!” He became still more impressive. “We didn't touch no more of them books that day. Not after that.”
For a long time both were silent. Then Tom, playing with a subject that attracted him with a fatal fascination, repeated, “All day long they lie—still as the grave.”
Teddy took the point at last. “Don't they lie o' nights?” he asked.
Old Tom shook his head. “Nobody knows, boy, nobody knows.”
“But what could they do?”
“Nobody knows. Nobody ain't seen to tell not nobody.”
“Nobody?”
“They tell tales,” said old Tom. “They tell tales, but there ain't no believing 'em. I gets 'ome about sundown, and keeps indoors, so I can't say nothing, can I? But there's them that thinks some things and them
