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. This put him opposite me, and I had Sybil on my right.
The young man's name was Roderick Lyman Culverson III; he did not manage to catch my name. I have long suspected that the male of our species, in most cases, should be raised in a barrel and fed through the bung-hole. Then, at age eighteen, a solemn decision can be made: whether to take him out of the barrel, or to drive in the bung.
Young Culverson gave me no reason to change my opinion - and I would have voted to drive in the bung.
Early on, Sybil made clear that they were at the same campus. But he seemed to be as much a stranger to the Farnsworths as he was to us. Katie asked, 'Roderick, are you an apprentice witch, too?'
He looked as if he had sniffed something nasty, but Sybil saved him from having to answer such a crude question. 'Mothuh! Rod received his athame ages ago.'
'Sorry I goofed,' Katie said tranquilly. 'Is that a diploma you get when you finish your apprenticeship?'
'It's a sacred knife, Mama, used in ritual. It can be used to -'
'Sybil! There are gentiles present.' Culverson frowned at Sybil, then glared at me. I thought how well he would look with a black eye but I endeavored to keep my thoughts out of my face.
Jerry said, 'Then you're a graduate warlock, Rod?'
Sybil broke in again. 'Daddy! The correct word is -'
'Pipe down, sugar plum! Let him answer for himself. Rod?'
'That word is used only by the ignorant -'
'Hold it! I am uninformed on some subjects, and then I seek information, as I am now doing
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