Chapter sixteen
Mindi the MadThe lady Dafni, so Tilda had told us, was a vivacious girl.
Tilda was right.
Too right.
There are a couple of apocryphal squibs, not, I hasten to point out, attributed to San Blarnoi, which go something like: “Why is language called the mother tongue, because father doesn’t often get to use it; and when a woman tells a doctor she is exhausted he asks to see her tongue.”
Yes, Dafni chattered.
She recovered from what she kept on referring to as her “Ordeal.” When, the following morning, I turned up in different clothes and wearing my ordinary face, I was able to ooh and aah along with the rest as she told her story again and again. Vivacious. Yes, she was that, all right. That and a lot, a whole lot, more.
Pompino and Framco the Tranzer arrived back during
