“You a-going, miss?” the boy asked. “No? You are a half-livered crew. It’ll be only me, I suppose.”
“You’re going, then?”
“Well,” said the boy, “what do you think?”
“I should go if I were you,” said Bernard impartially.
“No, you wouldn’t; not if you were me,” said Francis. “You don’t know how disagreeable she was. I’m fed up with her. And besides, we simply can’t get out at dead of night now. Mrs. Pearce’ll be on the lookout. No—it’s no go.”
“But you must manage it somehow,” said Kathleen; “you can’t let it drop like this. I shan’t believe it was magic at all if you do.”
“If you were us, you’d have had enough of magic,” said Francis. “Why don’t you go yourselves—you and Bernard.”
“I’ve a good mind to,” said Bernard unexpectedly. “Only not in the middle of the night, because of my being certain to drop my boots. Would you come, Cathay?”
“You know I wanted to before,” said Kathleen reproachfully.