Мор - ученик смерти

           ’HesaidIcouldgooutwithhimtonight,’saidMort.

           ’You’realuckyboythen,aren’tyou,’saidAlbertvaguely,headingbackforthecottage.

           ’Didhereallymakeallthis?’saidMort,taggingalongafterhim.

           ’Yes.’

           ’Why?’

           ’Isupposehewantedsomewherewherehecouldfeelathome.’

           ’Areyoudead,Albert?’

           ’Me?DoIlookdead?’TheoldmansnortedwhenMortstartedtogivehimaslow,criticallook,’andyoucanstopthat.I’masaliveasyouare.Probablymore.’

           ’Sorry.’

           ’Right.’Albertpushedopenthebackdoor,andturnedtoregardMortaskindlyashecouldmanage.

           ’It’sbestnottoaskallthesequestions,’hesaid,’itupsetspeople.Now,howaboutanicefry-up?’

           Thebellrangwhiletheywereplayingdominoes.Mortsattoattention.

           ’He’llwantthehorsemadeready,’saidAlbert.’Comeon.’

           Theywentouttothestableinthegatheringdusk,andMortwatchedtheoldmansaddleupDeath’shorse.