"There isn't a man-size game in the lot,"
I said.
"But they are interesting--I like them," Jeff objected, "and
I'm sure they are educational."
"I'm sick and tired of being educated," Terry protested.
"Fancy going to a dame school--at our age. I want to Get Out!"
But we could not get out, and we were being educated
swiftly. Our special tutors rose rapidly in our esteem. They
seemed of rather finer quality than the guards, though all were
on terms of easy friendliness. Mine was named Somel, Jeff's
Zava, and Terry's Moadine. We tried to generalize from the names,
those of the guards, and of our three girls, but got nowhere.
"They sound well enough, and they're mostly short,
but there's no similarity of termination--and no two alike.
However, our acquaintance is limited as yet."
There were many things we meant to ask--as soon as we could talk
well enough. Better teaching I never saw. From morning to night
there was Somel, always on call except between two and four;
always pleasant with a steady friendly kindness that I grew to
enjoy very much.
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