e sorry, but mostly bashful. He pointed at Tiger
Lily. "What--What's HE afraid of?" he said.

"Noises," I explained.

"Noises?" cried the little boy. He cried it with a sort of a hoot. It
sounded scornful.

"Oh pshaw!" he said. "There isn't a noise in the world that I'm afraid
of! Not thunder! Not guns! Not ANYTHING! Noises are my friends! In the
night I take torpedoes and crack 'em on the hearth just to hear them
sputter! I've got three tin pans tied on a string! I've got a pop-gun!"

He ran back to the table to get the gun. It was a nice gun. It was
painted bright blue. It looked loud.

When Tiger Lily saw it he dove under the bed. It was hard to get him
out. The little boy looked very astonished.

"It's gun-bangs--specially--that Tiger Lily is afraid of," I explained.

"Gun-bangs?" said the little boy.

"That's why he can't ever hunt," I explained.

"Hunt?" said the little boy. "Not--ever you mean?" He looked at Tiger
Lily. He looked at the blue pop-gun. "Not ever? Ever? Ever?" Way down in
his little fur slippers it was as though a little sigh started and
shivered itself up-up-up--up till it reached his smile. It made his
smile sort of wobbly. "Oh all right!" he said and ran away as fast as he
could to hide the blue pop-gun in the bottom of the closet. A velocipede
he piled on top of it and two pillows and a Noah's Ark and a stuffed
squirrel. When the piling was all done he looked back at our Uncle
Peter. It was across one shoulder that he looked back. It made his
little smile look twisty as well as wobbly. One of his eyebrows had
crooked itself. "It's--It's SILENCES that I'm afraid of," he said.

He grabbed Tiger Lily by the collar again and started for the door. As
though he was playing a Game he reached out one finger and tagged
everybody as he passed them. Everybody except Carol. When he started to
tag Carol he snatched back his finger and screamed instead. "He's a
Silence!" he screamed. "He's a Silence!" Still holding tight to Tiger
Lily's collar he ran for the stairs.

Flop-Flop-Flop his little fur slippers thudded on the hard wood floor.
Tick-Tick-Tick Lily's toe-nails clicked along beside him. It sounded
cool. And slippery.

His Mother wrung her hands. It seemed to be with despair that she wrung
them.

"Yes that's just it," she despaired. "It's 'Silences' that he's afraid
of! That's what keeps him awake all night banging at things! That's what
worries him so!"

"But he gave up the noisy pop-