William Merritt Chase Idle Hours

William Merritt Chase Idle HoursWilliam Merritt Chase ReflectionsJulius LeBlanc Stewart The LetterFrederic Edwin Church Jerusalem from the Mount of OlivesWilliam Merritt Chase On the Lake Central Park
know. It’s this place. It gets to you. D’you know,’ she said, sitting down on the sand, ‘there’s all kind of rules for the imps and things, they mustn’t be worn out, what
kind of food they get, stuff like that: No-one cares about us, though. Even the trolls get better treatment.’
‘It’s the way they go around being seven foot tall and weighing 1,000 lbs all the time, I expect,’ said Victor. ‘Gosh. It’s all happened so fast.’
‘It’s the best thing that’s ever happened,’ said Ginger flatly.
‘I suppose so . . . er, are we allowed to go and eat?’ said Victor.
‘No. They’ll be shouting for us again any minute,’ said Ginger. ‘My name’s Theda Withel, but my friends call me Ginger,’ she said. ‘My name’s Victor Tugelbend. Er. But my friends call me Victor,’ said Victor. ‘This is your first click, is it?’ ‘How can you tell?’ ‘You looked as though you were enjoying it.’ ‘Well, it’s better than working, isn’t it?’ ‘You wait until you’ve been in it as long as I have,’ she said bitterly. ‘How long’s that?’ ‘Nearly since the start. Five weeks.’