"Some fagots to keep ye warm, Screechy."

"Where be they?"

"Here by my side."

"Ye be a good Flea," cackled Screechy. "Be ye in trouble?"

"Yep. So be Flukey. Can ye tell me anything 'bout Flukey?"

The woman frowned. "Flukey, Flukey, yer brother," she repeated. "I ain't
a likin' boys, 'cause they throw stones at me."

"Flukey never throwed no stones at ye, Screechy, an' he's unhappy now.
He'll bring ye a lot more fagots sometime to heat yer bones by."

"Aye, I'm a needin' heat. My bones be stiff, and my blood's nothin' but
water, and my eyes ain't seein' nothin'."

"Don't they see things in the dark," asked the girl, superstitiously,
"ghosts and things?"

"Aye, Flea; and the things I see now I'll tell ye if they be good or
bad--mind ye, good or bad!"

"Good or bad," repeated Flea.

At length, after a silence, the girl broke forth. "Air Flukey in yer
eyes, Screechy?"