Lonely, and kicked their languid heels and chewed at the sweetish white inner stalks of the Common grass.
"See if you can make goose-flesh come on Pinkie Ball," suggested Lulu Bird, encouragingly.
Pinkie Ball was an easily impressed and somewhat emotional little boy upon whom all tales of horror brought the creeps. When Pinkie's skin showed "goose-flesh," during the telling of a ghost-story, the artist knew that all was going well with his work.
"I won't stay, if it 's goin' to be about ghosts!" wailed Pinkie, showing signs of terror, yet irresistibly chained to the spot.
The central figure of the little circle grew impatient.
"It was only something that happened to me over in Cowansburg," he said, off-hand. "To me and a man-eatin' lion over there."
Lonely drank in the silence that followed. A sufficiently dramatic pause having elapsed, he went on.
"I was just pikin' home from Connor's grocery, with half a pound of allspice, and half a pound of cinnamon and black pepper,
