"Did I hurt you, my little one?" he said, and relaxing his embrace, held
me more gently, but did not set me down.

"No, no!" I answered. "But I've got a secret, and you mustn't kiss me
till it is gone. I wish there was a swine to send it into!"

"Give it to me, little one. I will treat it better than a swine would."

"But it mustn't be treated, uncle! It might come again!"

"There is no fear of that, my child! As soon as a secret is told, it is
dead. It is a secret no longer."

"Will it be dead, uncle?" I returned. "--But it will be there, all the
same, when it is dead--an ugly thing. It will only put off its cloak, and
show itself!"

"All secrets are not ugly things when their cloaks are off. The cloak may
be the ugly thing, and nothing else."

He stood in the dark, holding me in his arms. But the clouds had cleared
off a little, and though there was no moon, I could see the dim blue of
the sky-lights, and a little shine from the gray of his hair.

"But mine is an ugly thing," I said, "and I hate it. Please let me put it
out of my mouth. Perhaps then it will go dead."

"Out with it, little one."