‘They burned her for a witch.’
‘Your meaning was plain from the first,’ said the Uncle, finishing his tea and setting down his cup—a beautiful red and blue and gold one—very different from Aunt Emmeline’s white crockery. ‘Certainly you may look. But you’ll respect the field of your search.’
‘Uncle,’ said Caroline, from behind the silver tea-tray, ‘your house is the most lovely, splendid, glorious, beautiful house we’ve ever seen, and——’
‘We wouldn’t hurt a hair of its head,’ said Charles.
Again the Uncle smiled. ‘Well, well,’ he said, and faded away like a shadow.
‘We’ll find those books or perish,’ said Charlotte firmly.
‘Ra-ther,’ said Charles.
‘We’ll look for them, anyway,’ said Caroline. ‘Now let’s go and pick an ivy leaf and put it in a letter for poor dear Aunt Emmeline. I’ll tell you something.’
‘Well?’ said the others.