“We’re going to see old Weatherwax.” “But you don’t have to come.” “Because you’ll just slow us down and probably cry anyway.” Esk looked down at them solemnly. She didn’t cry a lot, it never seemed to achieve much. “If you don’t want me to come then I’ll come,” she said. This sort of thing passes for logic among siblings. “Oh, we want you to come,” said Gulta quickly. “Very pleased to hear it,” said Esk, dropping on to the packed snow.
