. quot; is it?quot; he demanded.

    quot;You o tell me everyt ;

    Co tal posit ion quot;Rigo bed. Ask me again in ting. But noo my pilloo my dreams.quot;

    I  off by eace my excitement, I dre tired glares at breakfast t morning, and only after their fill did I dare ask again.

    quot;I am ing a book,quot; I announced, quot;about ory t Speck gave me before s, and noo fill in tails. Pretend Im about to make t on ;

    quot;O; Onions began. quot;You  t;

    quot;No, no, no,quot; said Béka. quot;You are mistaken. t a  all, but one of tical t;

    quot;You are bot; said C;e, smart boy ip of t ers.quot;

    quot;ts rig; said Luc;Mary and Elizabettle curly-tops, fat as lambc;

    quot;You couldnt  or nine,quot; said Chavisory.

    quot;Seven,quot; said Smaolac;;

    quot;Are you sure?quot; asked Onions. quot;Coulda s;

    tion continued in t of tested bites of information, and trut tant cousin of trut to tely and togetimes an ansed a fact in my brain. Sloime, a pattern emerged, and my curned to me. But one tery.

    Before ter, I  off, intent upon climbing t peak in trees o to t, ty looked like toy building blocks. Off to t village cut in t, try beyond. to t, a farm or trees and stone. I sat on taintop and read, dreamt at niger, I fasted and reflected upon tence. On t in t my fat in t?   botcartled by ted te lingered, taken my place wole me away?

    I kne man  ended for me. tealer of my story, thief of my life: henry Day.