"And when he does, Edna sings!" exclaimed Sylvia, turning her vital, sparkling gaze on her hostess. "You'd better hope he does;—but not to-day, not to-day!" Her voice dropped to a low, exultant note, and then she laughed and blushed, meeting John's quizzical, curious look.
"By Jove, I believe the stuff has worked and she's been trying it, Edna," he said. "It's early in the day, but she's lit up for a fact. How was your ride, little witch?"
"The grandest thing you ever knew. I'd have taken you up behind me if I'd known what it was going to be. There's nothing like a bird's-eye view of this region."
"What are you talking about, Sylvia?" asked Miss Martha.
"Why, I rode all over Casco Bay last night on a broomstick. It was like visiting a wonderful picture gallery. There was a planet that cast a path across the water as the moon sank. The headlands jutted out into the waves, the cottages nestled among the trees. I went to the Mill Farm and looked through Uncle Calvin's window and blew him a kiss as he lay asleep."
"Did he have his hat on?" inquired Miss Martha, and John and Edna laughed.
"Why didn't you bring home your clothes?" asked Edna.
"I did try to, but the broomstick bucked so when I tried to pass through my window, I saw I should raise the household, and I didn't want to startle them; so I raced away home again above the waves, while all the stars sang together!"
"Have you been taking a foolish powder?" inquired Miss Martha, cutting her beefsteak.
"You'll travel by wave to-day," remarked John. "I don't propose to go over to the Tide Mill afoot and alone."