outhful," he said. He knows very well what
he is doing when he mixes his language that way, the wicked old
darling.

"Siddy," I said, "why this gold-work? It'd be a lot smoother without
it."

"Marry, men must prick themselves out and, 'faith I know not, but it
helps if there's metal in it."

"And girls get scratched." I took a little sniff. "But don't put this
doublet through the cleaner yet. Until we get out of the woods, I want
as much you around as possible."

"Marry, and why should I?" he asked blankly, and I think he wasn't
fooling me. The last thing time travelers find out is how they do or
don't smell. Then his face clouded and he looked as though he wanted to
squunch under my shoulder. "But 'faith, sweetling, your forest has a few
more trees than Sherwood."

"Thou saidst it," I agreed, and wondered about the look. He oughtn't to
be interested in my girlishness now. I knew I was a mess, but he had
stuck pretty close to me during the hunt and you never can tell. Then I
remembered that he was the other one who hadn't declared himself when
Bruce was putting it to us, and it probably troubled his male vanity.
Not me, though--I was still grateful to the Maintainer for getting me
out of that spot, whatever other it had got us all into. It seemed ages
ago.

* * * * *

We'd all jumped to the conclusion that the two Ghostgirls had run away
with the Maintainer, I don't know where or why, but it looked so much
that way. Maud had started yipping about how she'd never trusted Ghosts
and always known that some day they'd start doing things on their own,
and Kaby had got it firmly fixed in her head, right between the horns,
that Phryne, being a Greek, was the ringleader and was going to wreak
havoc on us all.

But when we were checking Stores the first time, I had noticed that the
Ghostgirl envelopes looked flat. Ectoplasm doesn't take up much space
when it's folded, but I had opened one anyway, then another, and then
called for help.

Every last envelope was empty. We had lost over a thousand Ghostgirls,
Sid's whole stock.

Well, at least it proved what none of us had ever seen or heard of being
demonstrated: that there is a spooky link--a sort of Change Wind
contact--between a Ghost and its lifeline; and when that umbilicus, I've
heard it called, is cut, the part away from the lifeline dies.

Interesting, but what had bothered me was whether we Demons were going
to evaporate too,